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dreaming-medium · 3 months

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Watch Your Six

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Sensory Deprivation - Han Jisung

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Word Count: 14.8k

Summary: After training for years, you finally become a full fledged agent for KDOI, the Korean Division of Intelligence. Over time, each and every agent becomes something like a family member, including the high-tech nerd who has managed to put a smile on your face since day one. What happens when he's sent with you on his first field mission?

Warnings: Violence, smut (18+) MDNI

A/N: Kinktober is a state of mind. I know its January idc lol I will finish the list of prompts even if it kills me

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Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound your sneakers make on the treadmill reverberates through the gym. The expensive, high tech plastic mask strapped to your face fogs up with each exhale and clears with each inhale.

To your right, a man holds a clipboard, glasses covered eyes watching your vitals displayed on the monitor hooked up to the mask and other various wires clipped to your body.

You’ve been running for about an hour straight, but your breathing is still even; and just by glancing down at the screen, your heart rate looks the same.

For months, you’ve been training with the federal agency to be one of their field agents. Countless nights were spent pushing yourself to the limit, physically and mentally.

Today was your final evaluation before becoming a full-fledged agent. You were selected out of the hundreds of trainees to test to move on.

It was a great honor, all your hard work was finally paying off.

Maybe you’ll get your first mission after this!

If you pass.

A small bead of sweat drops down the side of your face.

Bored, your eyes wander over to the man studying your every heartbeat.

The thick rimmed glasses that sat on his face have slid down his nose a bit. His lips seem to sit in a constant pout thanks to those pudgy cheeks of his.

Choppy, fluffy brown hair sits on his head like a mop. You can tell he’s run his fingers through it more than a handful of times to get it out of his eyes.

A crisp white lab coat rests over a hoodie and khaki pants. A few different pens and instruments sit in the pocket under an embroidered ‘J’ .

You’ve seen him around the trainees once or twice in the years you’ve been here. From what you’ve gathered, he was one of the technical experts, providing countless gadgets and gizmos for the field agents to use.

The guy that would give the secret agent a lipstick taser before embarking on their world class espionage mission.

He’s pretty and smart— what a lethal combination.

When the man looks back up at the treadmill, your eyes flick back to dead ahead of you.

Reaching forward, he hits the stop button on the treadmill and jots down a few notes on his clipboard, a tiny smile pulls at his handsome face.

The treadmill comes to a gradual stop and so do your legs. One hour exactly sits on the clock.

Nervously, you look down at the screens, to his monitor, looking at anything you can.

“You did extremely well, 586.” There’s a happy tilt to his tone while he scribbles down some more notes, flipping the page, then writing some more. “You can take the mask off now.”

Nodding, you gently take the mask off your face and drape it over the top of the treadmill.

“I have one more examination for you.” He clicks a few buttons on the computer to the side.

Patiently, you stand there waiting for instruction.

He looks up at you with amusement glinting in his big, brown eyes. “You don’t need to be so stiff with me, 586, that’s not part of the tests.”

Your shoulders relax and sag forward a bit. “Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Understandable.” He grabs a hold of the cart with the machines on it and rolls it to the side. “Most, if not all, trainees are during their examination. I can’t remember a trainee that wasn’t nervous— well, maybe M, but he’s a special case.”

“Are you J?” you ask, looking down at his lab coat.

“I am,” he answers and steps closer to the treadmill.

He reaches forward and unsnaps the wires hooked onto the leads on your chest. The sticker part stays on, but the wires are removed. Which means you’ll probably be hooked up to another machine soon.

“I’ve seen you around before,” you say to him, studying his face up close.

“I’m always around everywhere,” he jokes, unhooking more wires. “I don’t think there’s a square inch of this agency I haven’t seen.”

“Are you a field agent?”

He scoffs. “No, not me. I could never handle that.”

“But you’re an agent.”

He moves his head side to side. “Of sorts, yeah. B needed a tech guy, so technically I’m an agent. But if you were to send me on a mission, I might cry. I leave those sorts of things up to C or S, or any one of the other agents. Just not me.”

You nod with a small smile of your own.

“Follow me.”

Following his orders, you step off the treadmill and follow after him out of the gym.

“Is there only one of each letter?” you ask.

J laughs. “Actually, yeah.” He leads you towards a side room, it looks like an interrogation room with a large contraption on the center of the table. “It’s easier that way.”

He motions for you to take a seat across the table.

“And unless you fail this psych evaluation, I believe we’re going to be back to 26 again.” J starts fiddling with the machine, pulling wires and leads off the top.

A happy pang goes through your heart. Thank god he hasn’t hooked up the heart monitor yet, he would’ve seen it skyrocket.

“You think?” Nervously, you shift around in the chair.

J chuckles. “I do. I haven’t seen a perfect exam like this in a while. Plus, we saw all the extra training you were putting in.”

Your mouth opens a bit in shock. J looks over at you, holding the wires ready to snap to the leads on your chest.

“We have eyes everywhere, 586. Did you really think we didn’t see that?”

An embarrassed flush crawls on your neck and turns your ears red. “Of course, I know that.”

Again, he chuckles and snaps all the wires to the leads. His fingers are warm in contrast with the cold air of the exam room. Each time his knuckles brush against your skin the feeling lingers.

He places a strap around your head that has two metal leads pressing into your forehead. Even more wires from that strap lead down to the detector.

J looks down at the wires and then turns on the machine. It whirrs to life and a needle starts scribbling out your heart rate on the top.

It’s a lie detector. Of sorts. It looks like more than that.

You’re not going to pretend to understand anything, though. That’s his job.

His eyes watch the needle, he then reaches forward and clips a small cuff on your finger— a steady beeping follows it.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself and takes a seat across from you.

J shuffles papers around on the clipboard to rearrange them.

A large mirror sat on the wall behind him. There’s no way that’s not one way glass. Is there anyone on the other side watching your evaluation? Or is it just the two of you? Is there another higherup keeping track of your answers? Maybe it’s B? Or maybe other agents are spectating to see how you are.

You would be working closely with them, after all. If the roles were reversed, you’re sure you would watch.

“Ready?” J’s voice interrupts your thoughts.

Your eyes snap to him and you nod.

“Is your name Y/N L/N?” he asks, looking down at the clipboard.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard your real name. Two years? Yeah, two years. You’ve only been referred to as 586 since you joined.

“Yes.”

J looks at the contraption for a few seconds, taking note of the way it moves. He makes a small tick on the paper.

“Can you verify your date of birth for me?”

You do as he says, saying it like second nature. Again, he repeats the same motion of watching your heart rate and making a small tick.

The questions start out simple. Where were you born? What are your parent’s names? Do you have any siblings? All questions that you would make a security question for your bank.

“Now, let’s get to the real questions. Just answer honestly and you have nothing to worry about, okay, 586?” J’s voice is calm and smooth.

Something about this guy makes you want to tell him everything regardless of if you’re hooked up to several machines.

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

KDOI: The Korean Division of Intelligence. Your dream job since you were a young girl.

“No.”

After your answer, J watches your heart rate for even longer than before. He makes a tick on the clipboard.

“Have you ever been contacted by an external government agency after enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Another tick.

“Have you ever participated in an organized event that openly opposed KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick.

“Have you ever had malicious thoughts about KDOI or the agents working within it?”

“No, quite the opposite. I admire KDOI.” You add the last part with a sheepish smile.

J grins when he makes the next tick on the paper.

“Next section…” he murmurs. “Have you recently had thoughts of suicide?”

“No.”

Tick.

Question after question comes from his mouth. You answer honestly to each of them, not even hesitating to let the reply leave your lips.

“Did you have thoughts of suicide prior to enlisting in KDOI?”

“No.”

Tick.

“Do you ever have thoughts of harming others?”

“No.”

Tick.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N- what?” Your eyes widen and you stare at him incredulously. There’s no way that’s on the evaluation.

J feigns ignorance and points down to the clipboard. In exaggerated movements, he motions down to it and shrugs, puffing air in his cheeks and just making a meal out of this fake performance.

“I can’t believe it either but there it is. ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’”

You tongue your cheek and smirk a bit. “No, J, I do not.”

J nods and scribbles down more than just a tick while looking at the heart monitor. “Interesting…”

He makes a few last notes before his eyes widen and he looks up at you, pointing his pen in your direction. “No girlfriend either, right?”

You roll your eyes, “No, no girlfriend either.”

Isn’t this an official evaluation? For a government official secret organization that grants people a license to kill?

He asked you if you were single immediately after asking if you’ve had thoughts of suicide. Is this guy for real?

You slow blink at him while he finishes up the form on his end.

“Well!” he exclaims happily, hitting the clipboard on the metal table. You don’t even flinch. “I believe we’re all finished here.”

Your heart squeezes with nerves.

J stands up from the table and rounds the table towards you.

So badly you want to ask for the results of your exam. Are you in? Did you pass? Are you an agent?

“B needs to sign off on all the paperwork,” J trails off, his hands reaching forward to unhook all the wires from the leads stuck to your skin. “But… I don’t think there’s any issue with me welcoming you to the agency. Officially.”

Since the heart monitor was still hooked up, you can hear the needle suddenly spike and scribble large peaks on the paper.

J turns his head to look at it. An amused smirk crosses his face and a chuckle huffs through his chest. “Funny,” he says to himself and then turns back to you.

Sheepishly, you look away from him.

“That’s what gets your heart rate to spike?” J sits on the corner of the table and folds his arms across his chest.

You bite your cheek and avoid his eyes. “Well, this has been my dream job since I was a young girl; so, yes, you alluding to me becoming an official agent would raise my heart rate.”

J scoffs. His warm fingers suddenly grab your face, thumb on one cheek and his middle and pointer finger on the other. He turns your head to face him.

When your gaze snaps to his face, you see that there’s a cocky smirk on his face but his eyes are focused down on the heart monitor. The needle stays steady much to his obvious distaste.

He sucks teeth in disbelief. “Really?”

“Is this another test?” your voice comes out muffled due to him holding your cheeks.

J rolls his eyes with a frown. “Yeah, let’s go with that.” He releases your face and slides the strap off your head.

The leads on your chest are soon to come off after that. J is careful not to rip the sticky pads off your skin too fast so that it doesn’t sting. He rubs the site with a bit of rubbing alcohol afterwards to get rid of the residue.

“How long have you been at the agency?” you ask. You’re curious about him.

He defeats all the ‘Secret Agent’ stereotypes. He’s personable and warm— and a bit flirtatious. He’s not at all the cold, all-business type you were used to. That’s how more than half the trainees were.

It’s not that you were cold, no. You just kept to yourself and worked hard.

And you made sure your personality didn’t fade during that time either.

J’s nose crinkles up while he thinks. His hands slow down in the process. “Hmm,” he hums. “Maybe four years now? Yeah, sounds about right.”

Your eyes widen. “Four years? How old are you?”

He smirks. “Don’t you know never to ask a young man his age.”

“I guess if you’re not going to tell me…” you trail off. “I’ll just say twenty eight then.”

“Twenty ei—!” he stammers and takes the last lead off your chest. “I’m twenty two!”

“Wasn’t so hard was it?”

J grumbles and turns around to finish putting the machine away. But there’s an amused tilt to the corner of his puffy lips and a playful glint in his eye.

“So you started when you were eighteen?”

“Yep.”

“Child prodigy?”

“Taken right from high school.”

“Impressive.”

J laughs under his breath. “Everyone seems to think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. “Everyone here is a prodigy of some sort. It’s easy to blend in and somehow appear mediocre when surrounded by Korea’s most elite minds and bodies.”

“I don’t think you’re mediocre.”

“You haven’t met everyone else yet.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer again. J grabs your clipboard and takes the papers off it, handing them to you.

“Bring these to B, he has to sign off on the final enlistment.” You take the stack from him. “The guard outside the door will bring you up to his office.”

You look down at the papers, your heart rate picking up faster and faster the more you think about it.

J puts his hand on your lower back and ushers you towards the door. It tingles at the base of your spine. He reaches in front of you and opens the door, motioning for you to exit first. The hand on your lower back twitches and it feels like he almost scratches it twice before urging you forward and dropping it.

It’s weirdly comforting.

It doesn’t feel weird at all.

You turn back to look at him, “Thank you, J.”

He smiles. Those round cheeks get even bigger when it happens.

“Welcome to KDOI, X .”

---------------------------------------

Two years goes by in the blink of an eye when working with a government agency. Especially when a majority of your assignments can take anywhere from a week to two months at a time.

The agents you work with are the only constant in your life. Other faces flitter in and out of your life like leaves falling off trees. You don’t grow attached to anyone outside of this organization, you can’t afford to.

You’re not complaining, not at all. You love the life you have now. It’s everything you ever wanted.

Everyone at KDOI is a family, you’re all each other has. It’s an unspoken, special bond.

When you first started, you were welcomed in with open arms. Obviously, some agents were warmer than others at first— or maybe it’s just that some were better at first impressions than others.

Maybe other people would have been upset with M’s standoffishness when you first introduced yourself. But, after a hot coffee appeared on your desk not even five minutes after complaining about being cold to him and only him, you knew he wasn’t detached and icy at all.

Other agents, like F, have been nothing but a ball of sunshine. He was the one you ate lunch with every single day while you were at the agency. Whilst sitting by yourself in the cafeteria on day one, he took it upon himself to plop himself in the seat right across from you.

H is your favorite agent to go on long assignments with. He never fails to be a constant source of entertainment and intelligent conversation— with the occasional stupid ass comment that makes you question where the man you were just talking to went.

Slowly but surely, you’ve also started learning their real names. Learning someone’s real name was apparently the equivalent of leaving you in their will around here.

There was a time and place to refer to them as their real name. It was a line you tiptoed constantly.

Surprisingly, it was M who told you his name first: Minho. It was completely unprompted too. It was in the jet returning from a three week mission where you had saved him from at least five different gunshot wounds by tackling him to the ground.

The others trickled in afterwards.

Y, or Jeongin, was shocked when you didn’t know his name. And immediately told you afterwards with a cute, wide smile on his face.

Even though every single agent has become a part of you, one particular agent seems to have captured a larger part of your soul than the others.

“J,” you say casually, slipping behind him to stand on the other side of his cluttered workbench.

Jisung. He had told you his name when you had lingered in his workshop late one night, not wanting to go back to your dorm quite yet.

“Hello, X,” he grins without looking up at you. The glasses on his nose have fallen forward.

His laptop is his primary focus, several wires are running from the computer to a tiny little gadget that looks no bigger than a cell phone. It has a small LED screen with different colored pixels bouncing around it.

Jisung’s workshop was one of your favorite places in the agency. There was always music playing, a computer always had some sort of TV on silent with the subtitles on, and there were always snacks everywhere.

You consider it a second dorm, really. As soon as you’re done training for the day, you usually find yourself here.

“When did you get back?” he asks, clicking a few keys and looking over at the gadget, then back to his computer.

“Maybe two hours ago?”

“And it took you this long to come say hi?”

“I had to shower.”

“ And you didn’t invite me?” his cheeky smile gets bigger.

You smack the back of his head, the glasses fall even more. You’re surprised they don’t tumble off his face.

If one thing has remained constant since your exam day, it’s the relentless flirting. The guy can’t go more than five minutes without saying some sort of teasing comment.

It should bother you.

But it doesn’t.

At this point, you’ve gotten quite used to it. If he ever stopped, then you might be a bit concerned. You might even miss it.

But you would never tell him that.

Jisung makes a tiny ‘gah’ noise and rubs the back of his head in fake pain. He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks over at you.

“I missed you so much and the first thing you do is hurt me,” he whines.

“I wasn’t gone that long.”

“Two long months without my girlfriend.”

“ Not your girlfriend.”

He clutched his chest through his baggy black hoodie. “Another wound.”

You cross your arms and giggle a bit. “Well get used to me not being here. B is sending me on another assignment tomorrow.”

Jisung frowns. “I know, he asked me to be at your debrief tomorrow morning.” He lets out a whine. “You just got back! Usually you’re around for at least two weeks in between missions.”

Shrugging, you look around the room. The digital clock on the wall read 10:29 PM. He’s usually the only one in here past 5:30, he tends to lose track of time easily when working on projects.

“It’s part of the job,” you say casually.

Jisung grumbles again, looking down at his laptop once more. “Yeah, well it sucks. Everyone’s always coming and going. Meanwhile I’m stuck here all day every day.”

“I thought you didn’t do field work.”

“I don’t . I just also hate that I’m trapped here while everyone gets to travel with one another.”

You narrow your eyes. “You do know we’re not sightseeing, right?”

Jisung balks. “Of course I know that.” He pauses. “But I did see that picture that you and Changbin took at Buckingham Palace.”

You bite your lip to stop the smile. “Not my fault it just so happened to be by our hotel.”

“Bang said if we had a Christmas card he would use that picture.”

The smile you’re fighting gets even bigger. You hesitate before speaking up again. “It’s a good picture.”

Jisung’s head drops and he places both of his hands on the table. “See what I mean?” he groans.

“Just tell Bang that you want field work.”

Jisung’s head shoots up and he stares at you with wide eyes. “I would die in the field!”

“You would not. One of us would be there to save your hide. You really think Minho would let you die?”

“I think he would load the gun himself.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest. Uncrossing your arms, you turn around and lean against the table.

“Ji, we would make sure you were safe if you were to come out in the field with us. It’s our job.”

“Your job is to carry out the mission.”

“I wouldn’t give a damn about the mission if your life was on the line.”

Jisung’s mouth snaps shut. His eyebrows fly up his forehead.

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his knuckles turn white from gripping the counter so hard.

His Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp.

You shouldn’t have said something like that, shouldn’t you? Your job is to carry out government missions. Personal feelings should never be put first, you know that.

So why did you say that?

Fuck, you shouldn’t have said that.

The shock on Jisung’s face quickly morphs into a cocky smirk. It’s a mask. You can see in his eyes he’s still a bit shocked.

“I knew you were in love with me.”

Groaning, you roll your eyes and push off the table. “I’m going back to my dorm to sleep. Goodnight, J.”

Your hand slides to his lower back and you scratch twice over his lab coat and hoodie.

Ever since your exam day, the two of you do this small gesture to each other all the time. It could be when he passes behind you in the cafe line or comes up behind you in the training room. It’s such a tiny, personal gesture.

Sometimes on the coldest nights in the field, you’ll find yourself aching for that small touch.

“You’re so head over heels in love with me, X!” he calls after you, again, clutching at his heart and overacting like he’s swooning.

“I’m leaving!”

“You just got here!” he whines.

“Bye.”

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away, X!”

“Night!” you repeat, letting the door shut after you.

You walk down the hallway of the agency with a goofy smile on your face.

“Idiot,” you mumble to yourself.

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B’s office was at the very top of the large building, the windows overlooked the entirety of Seoul. Everything inside the office exuded money and power. The wood of the bookshelves was black and sleek and always dust free.

Inside the office was so large there was an entire sitting area with two sofas and two loveseats around a coffee table.

There was always a bergamot candle burning on a side table there.

It was just about 10 AM when you stepped inside.

“Ah, X, thank you so much for coming in.” B stands up from his large desk chair to welcome you in.

Bang Chan, the leader of KDOI, and the most unassuming man you’ve ever met. When you brought him your final exam paperwork that fateful day you thought you were in the wrong office.

This whole time you were expecting a wrinkly old man, not a twenty-something with dimples.

But, at this point, you’ve learned to not be surprised by anything anymore.

Maybe you were surprised at the fact that the other man in the room made no move to even look at you.

Jisung sat in the other chair in front of the desk, his face sheet white. Both of his hands are gripped in tight fists on top of his pants.

Your warm smile fades from your face as you take in his ghastly expression.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Chan’s lips form a tight line as he motions to the chair for you to sit in. “I was going over your next assignment with J before you got here.”

“Apologies, am I late?”

“No, not at all. I had J come in a little early to talk to him one on one.”

You glance over at Jisung who looks like he hasn’t even blinked. Alarm bells are going off inside your head. Not even a nod in your direction?

“What’s this assignment about, B?” You look back to your boss.

He slides a manilla envelope across the desk to you, you take it without a second thought. Chan picks up a tiny remote off his desk and presses a button. Shades slowly come down over the window, bathing the room in darkness. Another beep on the remote and a holographic screen projects from the floor next to the desk.

Both you and Chan turn your chairs to go over the debrief, Jisung stays still. Part of you wants to snap your fingers in front of his face to see if he’s still alive or not.

Instead, you focus on your job.

“I know you’re used to more recoup time, but I’m afraid this assignment is pretty urgent.” Chan clicks the remote. A grainy CCTV picture is displayed on the screen. “The international gang you’ve been dealing with lately, the Ice Crows, have shown their face again.”

Chan zooms in on the image. Several higher ups of the gang are getting out of a black SUV. They’re all dressed in fancy suits smoking cigars.

The last time you dealt with them was about five months ago when their trail had gone cold over in Canada.

“When and where was this taken?” you ask.

“Yesterday. Paris. Where you and J will be headed after this.”

Your head snaps over to look at Chan.

With Jisung? No wonder the guy looked like he was eight inches from death!

Your eyes slide to the engineer, he’s still staring forward. A cold sweat on his brow.

“J is coming with me?”

Chan points your attention back to the debrief. “Allow me to continue.”

You spare one last look Jisung. The poor guy is shaking in his boots. Your hands itch to reach out and comfort him, but you have to remain professional.

That’s for after the debrief.

“There’s an auction being held at the Palais des Congrès. Several large and important pieces are being shown there. Including…” Bang switches the slides and displays an expensive painting. “The Refuge, which was stolen no more than two months ago by the Ice Crows. They’re putting it up for auction when it belongs back in Korea.”

Your eyes narrow. “This seems like a pretty rookie cut and dry assignment, B. You need me to get the painting back. I don’t understand why J has to come with me, he doesn’t do field work.”

The conversation the two of you had the previous night echoes in your mind.

B nods. “I know. Let me get there, X.” He switches the slide to display the floor plan of the museum. “This convention center is rather high tech, as you can see. It’s equipped with blockers that don’t allow any outside waves to make it past their walls. Any and all technical communication has to come within the building.”

“So, you’re sending J with me because he’s the only one that can operate field equipment? S can operate simple transmitters and trackers.”

“It’s more than that, X. The painting will be behind several different firewalls and security systems that not even S can hack through. J needs to be with you and he needs to be in that building.”

You take a deep breath and look over at Jisung. His hundred yard stare has moved from the window and is now focused down on his lap.

“He’ll be in your hotel room the entire time. You’ll be doing the recon and walking through the convention center to get where you need to be.”

Jisung pulls his lips between his teeth. His body finally came back to life. “I won’t need to leave the room?” His voice is hoarse.

“No,” Chan answers quickly. “Not until you’re leaving to come back home.”

Jisung shifts on his chair, unfurling his fists and swallowing thickly.

“I understand your apprehension, J, I do. But I need you on this.”

Jisung watches him closely and then offers a weak nod. He glanced over at you.

“I wouldn’t put you with X unless I was sure that she would watch your six.”

You nod and steel your expression. “I won’t let anything happen to you, J.”

Color returns to J’s cheeks at your words. He gulps and takes a deep breath, his shoulders rolling back and remaining stiff.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay, I’ll do it.” He’s more confident the second time.

“Good.” Chan clasps his hands together. “Stay safe, agents. Amusez vouis bien!”

---------------------------------------

You and Jisung were the only ones inside the cabin of the agency’s private jet. It took off the runway only about four minutes ago.

The brunette sat across from you, his eyes focused out the window at the clouds below. His posture is anything but relaxed. He’s sitting ramrod straight in the large cushioned chair.

You don’t think his muscles have released since you both were in Chan’s office. Even through the thick layers of his comfortable traveling clothes you can clearly read his uneasy body language.

“You okay?” you ask gently.

“No,” he mutters back. Duh.

You bite the inside of your cheek, completely unsure of what to do or say. This was never a part of your training. Maybe you should’ve picked up a copy of ‘ Comforting Friends for Dummies ’ when you had the chance.

Killing targets? Easy!

Provide detailed surveillance on a suspicious person? Done!

Soothe an anxious friend? Not so simple.

Jisung’s cheeks seem even puffier than usual, lips pursed in a pout. There’s no sparkle to his eyes like you’re used to.

Taking a deep breath, you lean back in your seat and look around the plane. You crack your knuckles, displaying your own nerves.

“Do you know the best part of staying at hotels during missions?” you ask him to break the silence.

Jisung hums in acknowledgement, he continues to watch the clouds below.

“You get to order all the room service you want— it comes out of the agency’s card.” You smirk.

He shifts around in his seat. His hands that were tightly gripping the armrests relax a bit.

“Last assignment I was on with Hyunjin, we were in a seaport town, the hotel made these bacon wrapped scallops… man… I ate so many I thought I was going to explode.” You pat your stomach.

Jisung finally looks at you. “Bacon wrapped scallops?”

You nod and smile at him. “You’ll be in the room the entire time. Think of all the room service you’ll get to order.”

“I’ve never had bacon wrapped scallops.”

“It’s Paris, who knows what they’ll offer there. And it all goes on Bang’s card.”

Jisung finally smiles. It wavers for a second, like he’s sheepish to do it. It’s paired with a breathy chuckle. He looks down at his lap and lets his body fall forward a bit, elbows resting on his knees.

His knee bounces anxiously and the exhales he lets out are shaky.

“God, Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing his face. “I can’t help but freak out.”

“Understandable.”

“It’s my first time out in the field.”

“I know.”

“What if something happens?”

You roll your eyes. “I would be more surprised if something didn’t happen, Jisung.”

His head shoots up. The color drains from his face. His pouty lips part a few times like he’s trying to find the right words to say.

“But I’m prepared for it, Jisung.” You lean forward, mirroring his posture and take his hands between yours. “I’m prepared to take care of whatever pops up to keep you safe, okay?”

His jaw clenches and he stares deeply into his eyes. The hands in yours are so warm in stark contrast to your always-cold ones.

“And if anything terrible happens then I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of it. Trust in me, okay? I have to take care of KDOI’s resident nerd, after all.”

“Resident nerd…” he scoffs.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Did I ever tell you what happened on my first mission with Minho?”

Jisung shakes his head.

“It was supposed to be easy! The intel that KDOI had gotten was that there was going to be a large drug exchange somewhere in the States, Minho was sent with me. And my lord, our intel was off.”

Thinking about the memory makes you giggle to this day.

“It was an international, high profile cartel that Bang has been trying to nail down for years. Well, during a small scout, I got my ass captured. I wasn’t watching my six like I should’ve.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. Obviously, he wasn’t told about this. It’s not like you enjoy flaunting the story around.

“I had a gun to the back of my head, the leader of the cartel was screaming for Minho to come out from where he was hiding or he’d kill me. God, I’ve never been so afraid in my life. My first assignment and I already had a gun to my skull.

“Minho, being the amazing agent he is, found the right vantage point and took the guy out. I was able to evade the crossfire after that, but honestly those bullets weren’t what scared me, it was the idea that Minho was disappointed in me.”

He was the agent you looked up to the most after all. He was the one that all these great stories and tales were all about. Minho was the harrowing hero of KDOI who was able to ace every mission handed to him.

“But he didn’t even say anything about it. Even when I apologized over and over again, he just shrugged and said it was part of the job. And I get it now. It is just part of the job. So don’t worry, okay?”

Jisung swallows once, chin dipping down with a stiff nod. He turns his hands around in yours to grasp your fingers.

A playful smirk creeps up on his face. “I can’t believe it…”

Your head cocks to the side and you watch him closely. He’s studying your manicured nails, his thumbs swipe over the digits softly. It’s a tender movement.

“What?” you ask.

“I can’t believe how in love with me you are.”

You rip your hands out of his and swat forward just as fast.

With a barking laugh, he moves out of the way of your slap. You swing again and again, each time his laughter gets louder and louder.

“First last night, now this? Are you going to propose to me next?”

You know this is just his way of evading thinking about how scared he is, but if that’s what it takes to make him feel better, you’ll allow it. If a distraction is what he needs, then you’ll give it to him.

“Love hurts!” he cries out when you land a solid smack on his arm. “They were right!”

“It’s going to kill you, that’s what it’s going to do.”

---------------------------------------

By the time you and Jisung get to the convention center and check into the hotel it’s nearing seven at night. The gala isn’t being held until tomorrow, so you both have some time to relax and settle in.

It leaves Jisung plenty of time to set up everything he needs inside your hotel room.

You both checked in without a hitch, getting your keys and practically falling into the room. Jet Lag is pulling your eyelids shut and weighing down on your chest like an elephant.

Flicking the lights on, you blink your bleary eyes a few times, staring down at the large bed sitting in the middle of your hotel room.

One king sized bed.

You’d love to say this hasn’t happened before but you never know what to expect on missions. There have been places where there’s been one bed, two beds, bunk beds , and even separate bedrooms once or twice.

On one occasion Hyunjin slept on the floor since you were only given one twin sized bed and you were not about to share that tiny space with the man who likes to spread out all of his limbs and hog the blanket at the same time.

So, at this point, you don’t even care if there’s only one bed.

You shrug it off and plop your bag next to the dresser and let your body fall back onto the plush mattress with an ‘oof!’

Jisung, on the other hand, hovers around the doorway, both hands still gripping the two rolling suitcases full of his equipment. “I can sleep on the pull out couch,” he says thickly.

“Ji, it’s fine, we can share a bed, we’re both adults here,” you tease him. “As long as you don’t put your cold feet on me, I don’t care.”

“I don’t have cold feet,” he grumbles and wheels his suitcases towards the small table on the other side of the room.

You let your eyes slide shut on the bed. The gentle hum of the air conditioner already lulling your brain to sleep. With how exhausted you are, it wouldn’t take much for you to give into the pull anyway.

Jisung opens up the suitcases and starts unloading every piece of technology that he has brought with him. Various wires and computer parts thud against the wood of the table.

He stops for a second.

“And how would you know if I did have cold feet?”

A laugh is punched from your chest at the abrupt question. It’s a deep belly laugh. “Let’s just say there is a loose lipped agent among us.”

Jisung pauses. “Minho said he wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“He wasn’t going to until I started teasing him about his purchase of fuzzy socks.”

“You were with him when he bought those?”

“I helped him choose between two different pairs.” You crack one eye open to look at him. “The purple pair was my idea.”

Jisung groans and slides his laptop open, the typing on his keys is a lot more aggressive. You giggle again at his outward display of frustration.

You let your eyes close again, listening to him shuffle his things around the wooden table muttering in between movements about how his feet aren’t that cold, they’re just colder than the rest of his body.

An easy smile finds its way on your face and you listen to his quiet ramblings until sleep finally washes over your tired mind.

---------------------------------------

“You were right,” Jisungs voice says in your earpiece. “Room service is fucking awesome.”

A waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes passes by, you grab one as he strides by your side.

“I told you,” you say quietly while bringing the glass up to your lips to take a sip. “What did you order?”

“I think the better question is what didn’t I order.” His mouth sounds full when he answers you.

He’s up on the 14th floor of the convention hall while you’re downstairs at the gala in a sleek, red silk dress. Your hair and makeup done exquisitely well, beautiful silver heels match the diamond jewelry adorning your skin.

You blend right in to everyone around you.

“I heard that their oysters are fantastic.”

“I think that’s part of what I ordered.” You can hear several dishes being pushed around. “Yep, right here. Although, they don’t look as appetizing as I thought.”

“They’re not really a lounge snack.”

“For rich people they are.”

The mission started about an hour ago when you made your way into the main event hall. The auction for the painting is going to begin in about another hour.

Your first task of the night is to locate the painting before the auction and place a minuscule tracking device on it to locate later once it’s sold.

There was only one way you knew to get close enough to The Refuge.

“Oh. Three tables back to your 8 is your first target of the night, X.”

Paternino ‘Pink Panther’ Cardi. One of the Ice Crows inner circle members. He can’t resist swiping whatever paintings he can get his grimy fingers on; but, he also can’t resist bragging to an attractive woman.

You turn nonchalantly to find him already eyeing you up with dark eyes.

He’s your typical mafia member. In fact, if you had to draw a cartoon of a mobster, it would look like Paternino.

You hold his searing eye contact while taking another sip from your champagne. The mobster lowers his chin and lets his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

At first, seduction wasn’t a part of the job you particularly excelled at. But after doing it for so long, it comes naturally.

Batting your lashes, you smirk at him and then turn to walk towards his table, your hips swaying in the process. Maybe you exaggerate your movements a bit, but it has the exact effect you need on Paternino.

He’s sitting at a large round booth all by himself, legs spread wide in a show-of-power manner. A large swig of whiskey is taken out of his glass before you get to him.

“Don’t you know that a beautiful woman such as yourself deserves a better drink than the venue provided champagne?” He motions to the booth seat next to him.

You place your glass on the table and slide gracefully next to him. The effort you put into this is going to need to be quick, you don’t have long to locate the painting.

“And I suppose a handsome man like yourself knows just what to order a woman like me?” Your voice is coy and seductively low.

In your ear, you hear Jisung take a tiny, shaky breath. Does he know the intercom is still activated on his end?

Paternino slides towards you a bit more so now you can smell the expensive cologne wafting off him. It’s almost too overpowering.

“A woman like you, hm?” He rests his arm on the booth behind your shoulders, lifting one hand to signal a waiter to come by. “Look into my eyes, let me see if I can guess your drink of choice.”

You rest your chin on top of your folded hands, your elbows resting on the table. His eye contact is intense and vivid, it makes your skin crawl.

Paternino hums again. “A sapphire martini.”

“Nope,” Jisung says with a chuckle.

You give a tiny, fake gasp. “How did you know?”

“I know a woman with taste when I see her.” He takes another swig of his whiskey while staring at you. “A sapphire martini for the lady.”

There must have been a waiter next to the table. You fight the urge to turn and look, instead opting to look at Paternino through your lashes.

“Your turn, Beautiful. Why don’t you make an assumption about me?”

“I assume you’re an asshole with a tiny dick.”

Humming, you scoot even closer to Paternino, your fingers come up and walk up his chest to come around his tie.

“I think,” you whisper lowly, coming closer to his own face, forcing your eyes to look down at his lips for a split second then back up at his eyes. “That you’re a powerful man around here, and that you don’t take no for an answer.”

His lips curl up in a cocky smirk. The arm that was previously on the booth, comes around your shoulders. His fingers feel clammy on your exposed skin.

“Very observant, my lady. Anything else?”

The sound of a glass being delicately placed reaches your ears. You reach out and grab the martini glass without looking, bringing it closer to you.

“No, no, it’s your turn.”

He smiles. You’re so close to his face you can hear his exhales, smell the whiskey on his breath.

You sip your own martini. God, it’s awful. You hate martinis.

Paternino slides a finger underneath the spaghetti strap of your dress. “I think you would look gorgeous without this in the way.” He tugs on the strap.

“Zero out of ten. Horrible pick up line. Try again.”

Jisung’s snarky words in your ear are oddly calming to your racing heart. He keeps bringing you down to Earth.

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about your clothes.” You tug his tie. “The auction doesn’t start for some time. How about you show me somewhere private we can go and we can see if both of us are right.”

“Uuuuggghhhhhhh…”

“I like that idea, I know just the place, Beautiful.” Paternino slides out of the booth and holds out his hand, which you grab a hold of gingerly to stand up and be led away from the main gala floor.

---------------------------------------

It takes five minutes for Paternino to lead you to the room where The Refuge is being stored. It only takes you ten seconds to knock him out cold with one solid hit to the back of the head.

His body hits the ground like a sack of potatoes in the dark storage room.

“Fucking finally,” Jisung groans in your ear.

“Sorry, it was the only way I knew to get back here.”

“That was torture, X. I’m never doing this again.”

You roll your eyes and pick up Paternino’s ragdolling body under the arms, dragging him across the room and stuffing him inside a storage closet with his arms and legs tied together and duct tape over his mouth.

“Now, which one is The Refuge?” you mutter looking around at all the art around the room. There’s sculptures, painting, glass blown pieces, everything you would see in a museum.

“I wonder if The Refuge is the only stolen thing in here?”

Sighing, you walk around the room, trying to recognize anything. “Probably not. But it’s the only one we know about.”

You find the painting eventually sitting at the very back of the room covered by a large sheet. When you walk up to it, you take your earring out of your ear and slide the back off— which is where you were keeping the tracker.

You tuck the tracker in the back of the painting between the canvas in the wood. It wouldn’t slip out nor would anyone notice.

“Perfect.”

“I can see it on the map still, you’re all good. Now get out of there.”

“Anyone coming on the cams?”

“No, you’re clear.”

You take your other earring out and throw it in the garbage can by the door. They were fake anyway and you don’t feel like looking like a freak with one in.

---------------------------------------

When you returned to the event hall, people were taking their seats for the auction, so you followed suit. Grabbing another drink from the bar before you sat down.

“Vodka tonic?”

“Always,” you say under your breath.

You watch the bartender make your drink with close eyes.

Now you just needed to wait until the auction was over to get the painting back. Your job was half over.

Through the earpiece, you can hear knocks on Jisung’s hotel room door.

“More room service?”

“I… I didn’t order anything.”

Alarm bells go off in your mind. “Don’t answer it.”

Jisung stays silent for a few moments. You’re no longer watching the bartender, you’re focusing intently on what you can hear in your ear.

“J.” You state, trying to get an update from him.

“I think they’re gone.”

Before you can even think about being relaxed there’s a loud bang on the other side of the intercom and Jisung shrieks from surprise.

“X! X, they’re in the room! X!” His voice shouts into your ear.

You’re already running out of the event hall, your dress hiked up in your hands.

“J, there’s a gun strapped to the bottom of the table, use it!”

You can hear gruff voices screaming at Jisung not to move, that they’d kill him if he even twitched a muscle.

“X, there’s five of them.” He whispers quietly.

“J, listen to me, stay calm, I’ll be there in five minutes.” You burst through the stairwell and start climbing two at a time, even in your heels. The elevator would’ve taken too long. “Do what you need to stay alive, fuck the assignment. Stay alive.”

“X.” It’s a whimper and it stabs you through the heart. The yelling gets louder and louder.

Jisung begs for mercy. You can hear the desperation in his voice, it pushes your legs to move faster and faster up the stairs.

“Si—“

The earpiece goes dead after a gunshot.

Your knees wobble and you lose your momentum.

Oh my god, no, fuck, please.

Reaching out, you grab the railing to keep your balance on one of the landings.

“J?” you scream. “J, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not a single voice comes through. Not even static.

Maybe they just shot the equipment. That has to be it. They didn’t shoot him. They wouldn’t. Right?

You steel your nerves and launch yourself up the remaining steps. By the time you reach the 14th floor, you’re not even winded.

The long hallway is colder than the stairwell. You take off sprinting towards your room, sharply rounding the few corners that you come across. Right before your own stretch of hallway, you slow down to a walk. It kills you but you have to do it.

In the distance, right in front of your room, you see two large men in black suits standing guard. They take notice of you immediately.

“What are you doing up here, ma’am?” One asks as you walk closer.

“My room is up here, honey.”

He looks to his partner and then back at you. “Turn around and walk the other way.”

“Why?” you ask, only about ten feet away.

“Just do it, sweet cheeks.”

Your eyebrow cocks and before he can react, you walk up and throw a sharp right hook into his jaw. The bone in his face cracks and he stumbles down onto the ground.

His partner yells in surprise and starts fumbling for his gun. When his hand raises to shoot you, you grab his arm and aim his weapon down so when he discharges it, it shoots right into his partner.

Then, you pull his arm so he falls forward into you. You swing the heel of your palm upwards right into his nose. With your free hand, you reach down and grab the tiny pistol that was strapped to your thigh.

Before the second goon could recover, you shoot him right in the head.

The sound of gunshots obviously alerted the remaining three gang members in the room. Two of them come barreling out into the hallway with their weapons drawn.

Immediately, you shoot the first one in the head, he hits the ground before he even knows what hit him. The other gang member yelps in shock before you shoot him too.

Within two minutes there are four bodies in the hallway.

Carefully, you walk into your hotel room, keeping your back against the wall and your gun cocked.

“Shut the fuck up,” a gruff voice says roughly.

Jisung said there were five of them. The fifth must be the one holding him hostage.

Quietly, you inch closer and closer to the corner of the wall. Once you turn around, he’ll be right in front of you.

You gulp and take one deep breath before coming around the corner, gun pointed forward.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” That same deep voice calls out.

Your heart drops.

Another typical looking crook is pointing his gun at the closed wardrobe doors in the corner of the room.

Where is Jisung? Where is he? Is he in the wardrobe? He has to be inside the wardrobe.

“Why don’t you drop the gun, sweetie.” The mobster says darkly.

You stay still with the gun pointed at him despite his words. The trigger seems to burn your finger. It's aching to be pulled.

Is Jisung in the wardrobe? Is he in there and you can’t see him?

Or is this guy trying to pull a fast one on you to get you to drop your weapon?

Fuck, is Jisung in the wardrobe?

“I said drop the fucking gun.” He moves to pull the hammer back of his own pistol and you don’t hesitate even for a second.

You pull your own trigger.

He drops to the ground with a bullet wound directly in his head.

You sprint across the room and rip open the wardrobe doors.

Empty.

It’s empty.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you repeat under your breath frantically. You blink your eyes over and over again hoping that he would suddenly appear.

You even go so far as to open and close the wardrobe door three more times, each time more frantic.

“Fuck!”

Where the fuck is he if he’s not inside this room?

The equipment on the table has a bullet hole through Jisung’s main laptop but no blood anywhere near it. But his glasses are. They’re lying on the floor with a crack through one of the lenses.

Did they move him to another location? He doesn’t have a tracker on him like you do.

With a yell of anguish, you turn and kick the dead mobster at your feet. His limp body rolls over and his jacket pocket falls open.

A hotel room key tucked inside the pocket catches your attention. You crouch down and pick it up.

‘1833’ is written on the back of the key.

It’s not a great lead, but your legs are running out of your hotel room before you even think twice. Obviously they moved him somewhere else to lead you into their trap and it didn’t work. Not with how well you were trained.

You burst through the door leading to the 18th floor, heeled shoes sprinting down the hallway towards where room 1833 would be.

As soon as you’re in front of the door, you click the hammer back of your gun and hold it out in front of you, swiping the key in the handle with your free hand.

The lock clicks open and you push the handle down slowly, trying to cause the least amount of noise as possible. All of the lights are off inside of the hotel room, save for one lamp. The yellow glow radiates on the wall.

There’s no noise.

Everything is completely silent save for the quiet hum of the air conditioning pumping through the room.

Until you hear a sniffle, a huff, and then another sniffle.

Inching across the floor, you slide your back against the wall like you did previously, listening for any more key sounds that would alert you that there are more people inside the room.

Taking one last deep breath, you round the corner and point your gun forward.

Even in the dark you know exactly what you’re seeing.

In the middle of the room stood Han Jisung; his hands tied together with a rope coming from the ceiling, a blindfold around his eyes and earplugs shoved into his ears. From here you can see the wetness from his tears being absorbed by the blindfold. There’s a gag tied around his mouth muffling tiny sobs.

You don’t allow yourself to fall victim to false security, you look around the room closely, making sure no one else is lying in wait for you to fall into yet another trap.

No other soul is inside this hotel room with you.

Dropping the gun onto the bed, you cross the room towards Jisung as quickly as possible.

He must sense another presence in front of him, his entire body stiffens and another louder sob is swallowed by the gag. He backs up away from you as much as his restraints allowed– which was next to nothing.

“Jisung,” you say in relief. “Oh god.”

Without thinking twice about it, you reach around and brush your hand on his lower back, scratching twice.

Jisung’s chest heaves with another sob, even through the gag in his mouth, you can hear him whimper your name. His entire body relaxes and he falls towards you, the ties on his hands tugging even more.

You reach up and yank the gag out of his mouth.

“X,” he rasps with a dry tongue. “Oh my god please say it’s you. I-I can’t hear anything— fuck, Jesus. Thank god you’re alive, oh god.”

You scratch his lower back again, looking at the restraints. How the fuck were you going to untie that knot?

Jisung’s tongue darts out to lick at his dry lips. His weight leans into you as much as he can. It must’ve been horrifying to be tied up like this, he couldn't hear or see or scream for help.

Gingerly, you reach up and cup both of his cheeks so as not to startle him. Even with how gentle you were, he still jumps in shock.

“Everything happened so fast,” he rambled. “They shot out the laptop so the communicator was fried. Next thing I knew I had a bag over my head and I was being tied up.”

Using your fingers, you push the blindfold up his face to rest around his forehead.

Jisung’s big, brown eyes blink and squint a bit before focusing on you. He searches all over your face, taking in every detail as if you’re a glass of water and he’s been crawling through the desert.

His eyebrows pinch together and he gulps.

“God, I’m always glad to see you, but now I’m really glad.”

You laugh under your breath, the stress from just the last thirty minutes alone lifting off your shoulders.

He’s okay.

Jisung is okay.

Using your hands, you wipe the tear tracks off his puffy cheeks. God, he must’ve been horrified.

He’s probably never going to go out into the field again. You look up at the restraints, analyzing the knot closely. You’re going to have to cut him down, there’s no way you’re untying that. He’s secured to a pipe that runs across the entirety of the ceiling.

“You know,” Jisung starts. His voice already has that teasing tilt to it. “If you wanted me tied up this badly, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

Your eyebrows twitches. Mr. Humor-Is-My-Coping-Mechanism decides to show his face now of all times, huh?

Slowly, you look down from his restrained wrists to his dark eyes. A smirk is already plastered on his face, his lips still wet from licking them.

“You must want me so bad, hm?”

With your own crooked smile, you tongue your cheek and make a ‘huh’ noise, it puffs through your chest. That’s how he wants to be, huh?

He can stay tied up for a little longer then. It’s not like anyone’s coming into this room nor do you have anything to do until after the auction.

Really, you have nothing but time to kill!

You take a step backwards away from him and cross your arms over your chest.

His eyes widen when you distance yourself from him. “Wh…” His cheeks puff a bit as his lips purse in confusion. Jisung tugs on the rope still around his wrists.

You cock your head to the side and stare at him with one lifted brow.

The bed behind you dips down under your weight as you sit down on the edge. It gives you a perfect vantage point to watch Jisung grow more and more confused as to why you’re not cutting him down yet.

Slowly, his ears start turning red, the flush crawls across his face and down his neck, disappearing into his black hoodie.

“X,” he says hoarsely. “Aren’t you going to cut me down?”

You shrug, knowing no matter what you say, he’s not going to hear you. If he wants to tease you, you can tease right back.

The gun on the bed beside you is picked up in your hand. You nonchalantly click the safety on and toss it to the side again.

He tugs even harder, the ropes chafing his wrists a bit. You watch as JIsung’s Adam’s Apple bobs with a gulp. The blindfold is pushing his bangs up in wild directions.

The helpless look on his face shouldn’t be making your blood pump this way. Excitement shouldn’t be tingling at the base of your spine from the power trip you’re getting from this. This is only teasing between two best friends, nothing more.

It’s just teasing, right?

Right?

You cross one leg over the other, leaning back on your hands. The plush blanket underneath your fingertips feels cool and soft. It’s a complete contrast to the way your skin is heating up under Jisung’s desperate gaze.

“Aren’t you going to…” he trails off. Several times his eyes flick from yours down to your exposed leg. When you had crossed them, due to the slit up your dress, the entirety of your leg was exposed to the cool hotel room air.

“Going to what?” you ask him, exaggerating the movements of your mouth for him to understand.

Jisung gulps again while watching your lips. He squints his eyes closed and tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose, his chin tilts back a bit.

You allow your gaze to wander down his body a bit. He’s always in relaxed clothing, including now. An oversized black hoodie draped over his shoulders with gray sweatpants on his bottom half.

Gray sweatpants that you now notice seem a little… tight .

Oh.

It seems as though you’re not the only one whose thoughts seem to be a bit… derailed.

When you look back up at Jisung, he’s staring at you with slightly glassy eyes and a heaving chest. Nervously, his tongue comes out to lick his drying lips again.

A tight band of tension stretches between the two of you; you can practically feel it connecting your bodies together. The hair on the back of your neck stands up.

Is he thinking the same thing you are? Is he allowing his mind to wander the way that yours is?

Slowly, you uncross your legs and stand up from the edge of the bed.

Big brown eyes flick down to watch the movement absentmindedly, his lips part and a shaky exhale leaves them.

Your hips sway from side to side with each slow step you take towards Jisung.

The eye contact he makes with you is sharp; his thoughts being conveyed through them. He wants you, and he wants you bad. It’s like he’s practically begging for it with those brown puppy dog eyes.

And you’ll be damned because you want it just as bad.

There’s only so much of his teasing that you can take. Only so much desire the dam within your heart can take before it bursts. And right now, with how high your adrenaline has spiked, nothing is stopping you.

The last two years of nonstop flirting is taking its toll on your self control.

Licking your own lips, you look up at Jisung, a shaky breath coming out afterwards.

Your fingers come up and grab the blindfold that’s still around his forehead and tug it back down over his eyes.

“ Fuck, ” Jisung murmurs. Your face is so close to his you can physically feel the words splay out onto your own lips.

With the gentleness of a butterfly landing on a flower, you brush your lips against his. Jisung immediately brings his face closer to yours, smashing your mouths together even more.

A sensation you can’t quite describe washes over you. It has the same level of completeness that you had felt when you became a full-fledged agent; like you just did something that the universe has been waiting for you to do.

His pouty lips start moving against yours faster and faster with more urgency, like he can’t get enough of you, like he’s experiencing the same emotions that you are. Were you the piece he always needed too?

Both of your hands begin to explore. You cup his cheek with one while the other grabs at the front of his hoodie. He’s leaning into you so much that the ropes holding his wrists squeak as they tighten and rub.

With a teasing smirk against his mouth, you take a tiny step back. This way he wasn’t able to reach your lips but could still feel the heat from your body in front of him.

A tiny whine leaves his throat as soon as you pull away. You watch as his lips chase after you just to be stopped by the ropes.

“Y/N,” he whispers, pleading. You lightly tap his cheek twice.

Pulling the collar of his hoodie to the side, you let your mouth hover over his neck.

Since he doesn’t have sight or hearing, all of his other senses are on high alert. Jisung feels your warm exhales so close to his skin and squirms around, little noises leaving the back of his throat.

You tease him more and more by letting your deep breaths fan over his flushed skin but never actually letting your lips actually meet with his neck.

Jisung pulls and pulls on the restraints, each exhale driving him insane.

When your lips finally meet his neck, a long mewl exits his own wet mouth. His head tilts to the side to give you more access. Greedily, you let your mouth explore his soft skin.

His hips buck forward into yours, his hard length grinding into your hip to bring himself some relief. Jisung whines again at the sensation.

At the same time, you open your mouth and suck down where his shoulder meets his neck. His body tenses up and his head tilts back in pleasure.

“Jesus, fuck,” he curses, grinding into your hip once again. “Oh, god. Shit– please, fuck, Y/N.” His incoherent babbling only increases in pitch and frequency the more you run your tongue up and down his neck, never going lower than the collar of his hoodie would pull or higher than his jawline.

You let your free hand travel up to thread in his soft, chocolate brown locks of hair. You scratch at his scalp a few times, letting your nails drag along his head. A low moan emanates deep within Jisung’s chest, it almost sounds like a purr. His head leans back into your touch.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs. Every noise that comes out of his mouth is louder than you expect thanks to the earplugs. “Y/N, please– oh fuck , kiss me again, please, oh my god, please, Y/N.”

Pulling away from his neck, you capture his lips in the middle of his babbling. The rest of his words are swallowed by your own mouth. His tongue darts out from his mouth to lick at your lips and coax yours forward.

Your own moans slip between kisses, Jisung can feel the vibrations against his mouth and they drive him absolutely wild. His hands ball up into fists; he wants to touch you so bad.

“Y/N,” he says your name in between kisses. “Please, c-cut me down.” Your kisses travel down to his jawline. “I want to– Fu-huh-huck! ” You bite down on his neck harshly, sucking a bright purple hickey underneath it.

Jisung rolls his hips into yours. You can feel how absolutely rock hard his cock is through his sweats.

“N-Need to touch you. Hah! I’m going insane, Y/N.”

Begs sound so good coming from his lips.

You run your hands down his chest to tease at the hem of his hoodie before sliding them underneath the fabric and up his bare chest. The muscle that greets you underneath it is a pleasant surprise.

The hard lines of his abs and chest run along the pads of your fingertips. He flexes and tenses under your touch.

Jisung throws his head back with a groan, his weight shifts around on his feet. It feels so fucking good . Every single touch to his body is heaven sent.

At the top of his chest, you curl your fingers and rake your nails down his skin.

The wail that tears from his throat makes your heart rate pick up ten fold. It sends a lightning bolt of pleasure through your body.

“Oh my god, please do that again! ” Jisung begs, his mouth hanging open as he pants over and over again. It seems like he can’t catch his breath.

Who were you to deny him?

With a featherlight touch, you let your fingers trail up, up, up his body. The closer you got to the top, the faster Jisung’s breathing picks up.

Right before you curled your fingers again, you smash your lips together in another searing kiss. When you claw down his quickly reddening skin, his cry is swallowed up by your own mouth.

You don’t stop your fingers on their downward descent, you tease the waistband of his sweats, letting your fingers curl around the top of the band and touching the taut skin underneath.

“Ah, hah.” Jisung pants into your mouth. He leans forward and sucks on your bottom lip, pulling it back for it to snap against your teeth. “I want to touch you so bad, Y/N, please .”

“Be patient,” you say against his lips. He doesn’t hear it, but he feels it. A pathetic whine responds to your words.

You kiss his lips a few more times before dropping down to your knees in front of him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out. “Oh god, oh my god.”

You grab his legs with both of your hands starting at the knees and run them up his thighs, taking your time on your ascent.

“Fuck, fuck , this is really happening.” Jisung gulps. He pulls harder and harder on the ropes.

When your hands reach the top of his thighs, you run one closer and palm his erection over the top of his sweats. A deep, guttural moan is Jisung’s only response. Even through his sweats you can feel how his cock twitches in your grasp.

His hips buck into your hand when you squeeze him. “F-Fuck, I– Oh god– This is really happening and I can’t even fucking see it .”

You smirk. Maybe you should show him a small bit of mercy. Just a small amount.

Leaning forward, you kiss his cock over his sweatpants. Jisung gasps and twitches again.

You stand up quickly, coming nose to nose with him. Your hands come up to cup his cheeks, they’re so warm from his flushed face.

“Y-Y/N,” he gasps. You peck his lips, letting them linger on his while your hands come up to his ears to take the plugs out. “Y/N,” he repeats on your lips.

“Hi, Jisung,” you breathe against his mouth before kissing him again, letting the earplugs drop to the ground.

You don’t linger for too long, you kiss down his face, down his neck, and then you fall to your knees once more.

“Jesus, Y/N.”

You don’t tease him too much this time, you grab the waistband of his pants and tug them down, his rock hard cock finally coming out. His tip is red and angry. God, how can a dick look so pretty?

Just as quickly as you got his cock out of his pants, you wrap your hand around him, pumping your hand up and down slowly.

“Ohhhh my goood,” Jisung mewls. His thighs tense up and flex each time you stroke up and down. “Fuck yeah, Y/N. God, your hands are so fucking soft.”

You tighten your grip and Jisung whines.

“Yeah? Does that feel good, baby?”

His cock twitches in your hand at the nickname at the same time a tiny whine escapes his throat.

“Does it?”

“Y-Yes,” he answers shyly.

“Louder, Jisung.”

“Yes, it feels good!”

“Good boy.” Without warning, you lean forward and take the entirety of him inside your mouth.

You can feel his knees buckle and if it wasn’t for the restraints keeping him suspended from the ceiling, he probably would’ve fallen to the ground.

“Oh, oh m-my, f-fuck, Y/N!”

You’re relentless. You bob your head back and forth on his dick, letting your tongue swirl around the tip when you come up just to go back down and swallow him completely. Jisung’s hands are balled into such tight fists that his knuckles are turning white.

So many different pitches of whines, moans, and groans fall so easily from his lips. Compliments come out in between each one.

“So good,” he cries. “I can’t fucking– holy shit.”

In some part of your mind, you always knew he would be vocal during sex– but never this vocal. He hasn’t shut up once. Not that you’re complaining, quite the opposite really. You fucking love every single noise that he makes. Each one sends a shock down between your legs.

Too often you’ve been with partners that conceal how you’re making them feel, but not anymore. Jisung is making sure you know exactly how well you’re doing.

“Such a perfect mouth, oh god. So fucking warm.”

You let your hand travel up his hoodie again, his abs are clenching and releasing over and over again with how hard he’s panting, you can feel each one under your hands.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he pants as your hand goes up. “Fucking hurt me, yeah, please, scratch me, Y/N.”

God, the way he’s talking to you is fucking sinful. It’s perfect .

You scratch down his chest just as harshly as you did twice previously.

Again, Jisung lets out a wail, his hips bucking and fucking his cock down your throat. You gag around him but keep him down your throat regardless.

“I-I-I’m gunna, holy shit, Y/N, I’m g’na– g’na—”

Now, you can’t have that yet, can you?

Quickly, you pull off his cock, letting yourself take a gulp of air.

Jisung cries out from his ruined orgasm. “No! Shit! Fuck! Why?”

You look around the room while he throws his mini temper tantrum. There’s a small kitchen off to the side of the suite.

As if you have nothing better to do, you meander over to it, looking around.

“Y/N?” Jisung asks, hearing you walk away.

“Hm?” you respond.

“W-Where did you go?”

“Still here, baby, why?”

He shifts around, pulling on the ropes. The red color on his ears is getting deeper and deeper. “Just um– Why did you leave?”

You giggle. “Looking for something.”

You open one of the drawers, close it, then open another until you find what you’re looking for. It glints and catches your eye in the third drawer you check. You pick up the knife that was inside the drawer.

You’re walking back in his direction with the knife in your hand.

“D-Did you find what you needed?”

“Yep.”

With frightening grace, you reach up and slice the ropes holding his wrists in the air.

He almost drops to the ground, but you grab a hold of him before he has a chance to fall into the carpet.

Jisung wastes no time, he grabs at your waist with both of his hands. Through the silk fabric of your dress, you feel the heat of his touch. It scorches into your skin and you wish he would brand his very handprints there.

His lips are already on yours again, feverishly kissing you as if you would disappear if he stopped even for a moment. He takes one second to rip the blindfold off his eyes and then he’s back on your mouth.

The hands on your waist don’t stay there long. They run all along your figure, up in your hair, over your neck, grabbing your ass, gripping your hips, he’s everywhere.

You back up a bit, pulling Jisung with you until the back of your legs are about to hit the bed. Quickly, you spin the two of you around, pushing his chest so that he falls back onto the bed.

When Jisung finally blinks the confusion from his eyes, his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you at the foot of the bed.

You’re looking at him like you’re about to devour his very soul. Your hair is frizzy and tousled, the straps of your dress falling off your shoulders, your lipstick smudged over your puffy, kiss swollen lips.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs. His fingers curl into the blanket.

You straddle his legs and crawl onto the bed, hiking the skirt of your dress up enough for Jisung to see the strong muscle of your thighs.

“There’s no way I’m awake right now,” he whispers, hands grabbing at your bare legs and running them up to push your dress further up your body. “I must have been shot. I’m in Heaven right now.”

With a sultry chuckle, you cup his cheek and let your thumb swipe over his lips. “I’m real, baby.”

“Oh my god.”

You reach down and take a hold of his cock, pumping him up and down a few more times. Jisung moans and fights for his eyes to stay open, he can’t get enough of the sight of your hand wrapped around him.

With your other hand, you reach down and pull your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt.

“Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” Jisung whines. His fingers run up your folds, collecting your wetness on his digits and bringing them up to his mouth. He moans around his own fingers at your taste, his eyes rolling back in his skull. “Please, I need to–”

You cut him off by squeezing his cock. “Next time. I need you now .”

“Yes, ma’am,” he squeaks out.

As if he would ever complain.

You line his cock up with your entrance, Jisung grabs your hips with both of his hands, his thumbs pressing against the bone so hard. His breathing is getting faster and faster with each passing second.

Slowly, you sink down on his cock.

Both of you moan out in unison. The stretch feels fucking marvelous inside of you. Jisung’s eyes roll back in his head once more.

His moans dissolve into silence as his mouth stretches open in an ‘O’. He throbs inside you right before you lift your hips just to drop them again.

“Oh god,” you moan. “Jisung, you feel so fucking good.”

“Move, please ,” he begs and you bounce up and down again and again. Each time you drop down, it shoots pleasure down through your thighs and into your toes.

You grab his face and smash his lips with yours once more. His tongue immediately finds yours.

Jisung’s hands wander from your hips all the way around your body to grip your ass while you ride him, his fingers dig into the flesh, kneading it with each bounce.

“Fuck, fuck,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Pussy so fucking tight.”

“Just for you.”

“O-Oh, fuck yeah . Just like that, baby.”

Jisung pulls away from your lips to kiss down your neck the way you did to him earlier. He takes his hands off your ass to pull the straps of your dress down your arms for your breasts to fall out of the top.

“Shit, baby,” he whines before taking a nipple in his mouth.

Moaning, you pull his hair tighter, keeping his face buried in your chest– not that he seems to mind. His eyebrows pinch together, moans vibrating against your chest as he licks and sucks at your nipple.

His other hand comes up to pinch and pull at the other. Each tweak and flick of his tongue makes your walls clamp down on his cock.

“Your cock feels so good, Jisung,” you moan, clenching on him again. “Stretching me so good, so fucking big.”

He moans, sucking a hickey on the underside of one of your tits.

The pitch of both of your moans begin to get higher and higher the closer you get to your peaks. Jisung’s heels dig into the carpet and he starts fucking up into you.

“Fuck!” you cry out, holding him tighter. His thrusts are so much wilder than your bounces were. Each one fucks right into your g-spot. “Ji– Jisung, oh god!”

“Yeah?” He pulls away from your chest and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. “Does that feel good? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, yes! Keep going, Ji!”

Every single thrust is driving you wild. Everything about him makes you feel crazy, everything down to the sweat beading on his forehead.

He reaches down and presses his thumb against your clit, making you cry out. He rubs circles in the same tempo as his thrusts.

Closer and closer you approach your own climax, his touch feels too good.

Jisung looks down, watching where his cock disappears inside you over and over again. The very sight of it makes his mouth go dry.

He groans and falls into your chest.

“Say it for me, Y/N, say it,” he pants into your neck. “Say you’re close. I-I’m going to fucking bust, say you’re close, I need you to cum on my cock. Need it s-so bad.”

“I am, I am,” you repeat like a mantra. Your own pleasure is making you feel inside, his cock is abusing your walls just right, his thumb on your clit adding an extra level of insanity.

You pull more at his hair.

Close, close, close. It’s all you can think of. Jisung is enveloping all of your senses. He’s everything in your mind and body and even your soul.

“Gunna cum!” you cry out. “Cumming, cu– cumming!”

With just three more thrusts, your walls clamp down on Jisung’s cock, triggering his own release.

“Jisung, fuck!”

He bites down on your neck, crying out and grabbing you tightly with his free hand. He clings onto you like he would die if he let go.

Hot, sticky cum drips over your walls, leaking out around his cock.

Both of you are panting heavily, unable to move and detangle yourselves from one another.

Slowly, you release your death grip on his hair, letting your nails drag along his scalp like you did earlier. He hums against your neck, his hands finding your hips again, thumbs massaging you over your dress.

The gentleness of his touch makes you clench around him, your cunt still going through the aftershock of your orgasm.

“Jeeesus…” Jisung moans out, a bit overstimulated. You giggle and pull back to look down at your best friend. He looks up at you with a delighted smile across his face.

You giggle and continue to comb through his hair.

His eyes fall closed happily and he leans into your touch.

This should feel awkward. You should be having some sort of ‘post-nut clarity’ where you freak out for sleeping with your best friend, but you’re not.

Right here, right now, you feel safe and content. And your relationship with Jisung feels the same– if not better.

“I knew it,” he hums.

You cock your head to the side. “Knew what?”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

Laughing, you lean forward and press a long kiss to his lips. “Yeah.” You kiss him again. “Maybe I am.”

---------------------------------------

“So J was captured and tied up in another room in the convention center?” Chan asks.

You and Jisung had safely returned to Korea with The Refuge about two hours ago. And, per protocol, you both immediately went to Chan’s office for a debrief.

“Affirmative,” you answer.

“And you got him back, obviously. No problems after that?”

“No, sir.”

Jisung shifts on his chair next to you.

“Uneventful beyond that one hiccup?”

You tongue your cheek. “Yes, sir.”

Chan eyes the two of you curiously from the other side of his desk. But, the mission was complete and everything was done. There was nothing he needed to be wary of. For now.

“Understood. I’ll read about the mission more in your reports. You’re both dismissed.”

The two of you are leaving Chan’s office with thinly veiled smirks on your faces. Just as you’re about to close the door behind you, he calls out.

“Might want to cover the hickeys next time!”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #han x reader #jisung x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n #han jisung smut #jisung smut #han smut #han jisung x you #han x you #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids kinktober

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st4rfckerz · 28 days

Text

Late Night Call | Nerdy!Anakin x Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: MDNI 18+, masturbating (both), voice kink, praise, nerdy!anakin is a whiny little mess.

summary: Your voice is enough to get Anakin all worked up.

The silence of the night seemed to be swallowing the entire city as Anakin lay sprawled in his bed, staring at the ceiling. With a yawn, Anakin lifted the blocky landline phone off its cradle, the dial tone echoing through the receiver. As he recited the familiar numbers, he couldn't help but feel butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

"Hello?" a gentle voice answered on the other line.

"Hey, I didn't wake you up did I?" Anakin mumbled into the phone, his voice barely above a whisper. The soft sound of rustling sheets and a yawn came from the other end of the line.

There was a pause before you replied. You knew that voice. "No, you caught me at a good time. What's going on?"

"Oh, well, nothing really I just wanted to talk to you," he stammered, trying to mask his nervousness. "I'm putting off writing this paper too actually," Anakin admits almost sounding like he was ashamed of himself. "I don't know, I just don't feel like its good enough." He brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he could feel the small migraine coming in through to temples of his skull.

"Hey, it's alright," your soft voice reassured him from the other side of the line, sending a wave of calm washing over his senses. It was enough to ease his nerves, even if just a little. "You're human, and mistakes happen. You can't expect perfection from yourself all the time."

As the comforting voice continued speaking into the phone, Anakin's breath hitched in his throat. His heartbeat pulsed rapidly in his ears, matching the cadence of the soft whispers. Slowly, the warmth that had started in his chest spread through his limbs, igniting a fire within him. His thoughts raced, his imagination running wild with images of you on the other end of the line, your voice painting vivid pictures in his mind. The soothing voice was a siren song, drawing him in deeper with each passing second.

"What're you writing about anyways?" your voice rings softly through the line. Anakin clenched his eyes shut, his grip on the receiver tightened, as if he could somehow draw strength from the cold plastic. This isn't right, he chided himself, yet he couldn't resist the pull.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Well, it's about a new tech startup in Silicon Valley, something boring like that." Anakin managed to amswer, his voice cracking slightly. His hand subconsciously rubbed against his crotch, and he discreetly adjusted his pants, feeling the bulge growing bigger. He needed to calm down. Fast.

You hum slightly, the topic taking your interest. "That's sounds intriguing, I'd read it. I'm writing about the use of real fur in the fashion industry." Anakin's heart skipped a beat hearing your reply. Real fur? That sounded controversial, edgy, something that would definitely get you a passing grade.

"Oh, really?" he managed to choke out, trying to keep his voice steady. "Do you think it's... you know, ethical?"

"Not at all, there's always faux fur y'know?" you scoff. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. This was school-related, he reminded himself sternly. "Well, I mean, if the demand for real fur decreases, the industry will eventually adapt," he reasoned, trying to sound rational. "Plus, there are ways to ensure animal welfare during the process."

"See! You're so good, it's not even your paper and you're already shooting facts." you praise him innocently. God, he could've came in his boxers if he wasn't being so careful. His head was buzzing with ideas of how he might prolong the conversation so that you could carry on speaking. He just needed to hear you voice.

"Thanks." Anakin laughed nervously, trying to deflect the compliment. "So, um... how's everything else been? Anything exciting happening in your life besides your classes?" He couldn't shake the image of you in that little skirt you decided to wear to class the other day, your tits swaying enticingly in the tight sweater you wore. If it was up to him, he would've fucked you in that classroom in front of everyone. His cock twitched in his pants, growing harder by the minute.

"Not really, my roommate's gonna be out of town for a family thing, so I'll have a whole boring week by myself." you explain.

"Oh, really?" Anakin's eyes widened in delight, his heart racing faster than ever. He shifted in his seat, his cock throbbing against his pajama pants "So, uh, want to meet up sometime? Just you and me?" He forced himself to sound innocent, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying his true intentions.

His hand reached down his pants, feeling the head of his cock peeking out from his underwear. He wrapped his fingers around it, stroking slowly, trying to calm down. He had to focus on their conversation, at least until she agreed to meet up with him. He inadvertently let a whine slip out of his mouth as he swept his fingers across his sensitive tip.

"Anakin? Are you ok?" you ignore his question. Is he? No, he wouldn't. You think to yourself.

"Y-yeah just keep talking, 'm listening." Anakin stammered. His hand continued to stroke his cock unabashedly, increasing the speed slightly. He was so lost in the mind that he didn't even think about the possibility of you being able to hear the quiet slick sounds coming from his end of the line.

He is.

"Ani, I know what you're doing." you state bluntly. His eyes spring open and his hand slows down its movement on his cock.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't help it, y-you can hang up if you want I just-" he blurts out his words but you instantly interrupt him.

"Why would I want to hang up?"

"What?" Anakin couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was sure you'd call him a sick freak and never talk to him again.

"I'm not hanging up," His heart raced wildly, his cock throbbing harder than ever. He couldn't resist your voice. "Does it feel good Ani?"

"Mhm, wish it was you." he admits breathlessly, his fingers tightening around his cock. Anakin's heartbeat pounded in his ears.

"Yeah? Tell me what you're thinking about baby." you chide. You could feel your cunt getting increasingly wetter as you continued to speak to him, it makes you squirm as the heat continues to spread through your body.

"Just you, 's always you," he confessed, his voice cracking with lust. "I wanna touch you and taste you everywhere." His hand picked up speed, and his cock twitched violently in his pants.

"You wanna taste me?" you egg him on. His voice sounded so desperate it was almost pathetic.

"Uh huh, I wanna taste you," Anakin's voice trembled with desire. "Everywhere. Mmph- your lips, your neck, your pussy, everywhere."

He couldn't help but wonder how you would sound, how you would taste, how you would react to his advances. His hand moved faster, his cock throbbing violently in his pants. He needed relief, needed you to stop teasing him.

"Are you gonna be a good boy for me Ani?" you whisper, your voice dropping down an octave.

"I'll be anything you want me to be," Anakin panted, his voice hoarse with desire. "Just please keep talking." He couldn't contain himself anymore, his hand moving faster. "I'll do anything you say, just tell me what you want."

"I wanna hear you beg to cum." you demand as you begin to slowly graze your beating clit over your panties, soon dipping your hand underneath them to be met with your soaking cunt. "You're making me so wet Ani." Your fingers swirled little circles against your tiny bud, causing you to let out a small moan.

Anakin groaned, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please, I need it so bad." He couldn't stand it anymore, he had to release the pressure building up inside him. "I'll be good I promise," he pleaded, his voice breaking. Anakin's heart stopped for a moment as he heard the wet sounds coming from the other end. "Are you touching yourself?"

"Mhm, feels so good." you moan as you curl your delicate fingers inside your drooling pussy. His cock jerked in his hand and his mind filled with images of you fingering yourself.

"Ah- fuck." His hand moved faster, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants. He bit his lower lip, trying to control himself, but his body betrayed him. "I'm close, so close-" he panted. His hips rocked back and forth in sync with each stroke. and he could feel his orgasm building up, he knew it wouldn't be long now. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and his breathing became shallow and erratic.

"Cum for me pretty boy, I wanna hear you." He couldn't hold it back any longer. With one last hard stroke, he came, his balls tightening and his cock spurting a warm stream of cum onto his blankets. He let out a loud groan, his entire body shaking with pleasure.

You can feel your own orgasm creeping up inside you as you vigorously pumped your fingers into your cunt. "Shit Ani 'm cumming!" you squeal. Anakin's eyes widened, a low growl escaping his lips as he heard you ride out your orgasm. His chest heaved, little beads of sweat trickled down his face as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, you both sat there, panting and recovering from your orgasms. Then, finally, Anakin found the courage to speak again. "We should... we should probably hang up, huh?" he said hesitantly.

"I guess we could," you chuckle at his awkwardness. "I'm tired now." Anakin smiled weakly, wiping away the remaining streaks of sweat from his forehead. "Yeah, I guess so," he agreed, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm. He looked at his watch, noting the time. "There's no way I'm finishing this paper tonight." He laughs at himself.

"Me neither, I'll do it eventually." you smile at his awkwardness, you always found it cute. "Will I be seeing you in Callahan's tomorrow?" you ask him, hoping he'll be there waiting on you with an empty seat next to his like always.

Anakin chuckled softly, feeling a bit embarrassed but relieved. He quickly cleaned himself up and took in a deep breath. "Yep, I'll be there," he replied, his voice steady once again. "Maybe we could grab coffee afterwards? If you're free, that is."

There was silence on the line before you spoke, but he hoped you'd accept his invitation. He needed to see you again, to be near you.

"That sounds great Anakin." you beam.

He smiled, grateful for the chance to talk to you without all the tension hanging over them. "See you tomorrow, then." he added, his voice friendly and casual.

You said your goodbyes and Anakin ended the call, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him. As he hung up the phone, he glanced down at his sticky pants, a small smile playing on his lips. He couldn't wait for tomorrow's class.

#nai writes ୨୧ #nerdy!anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #st4rfckerz

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toji-girl · 2 months

Text

red riding hood | t. fushiguro

synopsis: Toji is willing to do anything for you most of the time and if that includes indulging in one of your fantasies who is he to say no?

wc: 3.4k

tags: dark content + 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI +fem reader + not beta read + repost from my old blog + dubcon (aphrodisiac pill) + role-playing + primal play + he's the big bad wolf and you are red riding hood + slight dry humping + teasing + he picks you up + mutual masturbation + he uses a fake plastic knife + unprotected sex + creampie + any missing tags please lmk!

was for kinktober '23 | I've posted this before but it's one of my favorites I've ever done so I'm reposting it!

“So we really have to stay here at this lame-ass party?” Toji asked as he trailed behind you, one hand possessively on your hip as you led him through the foyer of the frathouse that hosted the yearly campus Halloween party.

“Yes, just for a bit, it would look bad that I didn’t even come when I was invited, right?” You replied turning to look at him with a smile as you looked at his costume, the both of you decided to come dressed as Red Riding Hood and the big bad wolf, for only one reason though.

Him complete in a red flannel shirt that was ripped and strained over bulging muscles, blue jeans that hugged thick thighs, and a curvaceous ass, the werewolf mask stuffed in his back pocket along with your panties.

You played your part as well, dressed in a satin red dress that hugged everything perfectly, a matching cape in color, and fishnet stockings with shoes that may or may not be dangling from Toji’s fingers later.

He shrugged and slid his hand further down to grip your ass cheek in one large palm. “I thought we already had an idea for Halloween?” He asked gruffly as you weaved through the decorations.

“Mhm, yes, but I need to speak to someone for a quick second. Will you get us a drink? We’ll dance then kick off our festivities.” You stopped in the living room and turned around holding his hands.

Toji’s eyebrows pinched together in the middle. “Someone? How long is it going to take?”

You did a quick scan of the room finding Satoru who waved with a sly grin wiggling long slender fingers, he wore a dark silk robe and a Ghostface mask sitting on top of his white hair.

“Two minutes, not even, find me on the dance floor?” You asked, pulling him closer as a group of girls made their way through giggling, their arms linked as they eyed Toji up and down.

You didn’t blame them but decided to kiss him giving him a taste of the cherry lip gloss you applied earlier.

“Gladly, be ready for a wild ride later.” He whispered with a smirk as he wrapped one arm around your waist making sure you were flush against him, Toji couldn’t resist giving your ass one more squeeze.

He left you with a chaste kiss on your forehead, you barely got a chance to blow him a kiss before he bled into the crowd leading into the kitchen.

You made your way over to Satoru who nursed a red solo cup. He waved with a smirk this time waiting until you came closer to reaching into his pocket and pulling your gift out.

“Miss. Red Riding Hood, how do you do?” He asked slyly.

“Can’t complain, except that it smells like unwashed feet and BO in here.”

Satoru chuckled lowly as he watched you open the top lid to your basket which was stuffed full of everything else for your and Toji’s plan, minus one thing, and he made sure to place the small bag where you could grab it easily.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday for class and do not forget your book!” You chastised him playfully giving his arm a squeeze before walking away to the living room in search of Toji until you found him standing close to the doorway leading into the kitchen, his head craning each way as he looked for you.

Weaving through the crowd again you stayed hidden staring at Toji and the way he filled out his shirt, the material hugging his thick arms and chest, you hummed softly to yourself as you made your way over to him with a smile.

“Hi there big bad wolf, what big teeth you have.” You whispered clasping your fingers around his wrist and grabbing his attention as he smiled wolfishly at you.

He smirked and gave you your cup first before wrapping one arm around your waist again, his signature move for a few reasons, to make sure you’re safe and protected, and a warning to anyone who looked at you like prey just waiting to make their move.

“Want to see something else big I have?” He whispered in your ear, his breath fanned over the shell as he kissed it softly chuckling deeply when you shivered and looked at him.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you opened the lid of your basket grabbing the pill as he did a quick scan around the room before he nodded, the signal that you could take it real quick.

Before anyone noticed you placed the pink pill on your tongue showing your boyfriend who grabbed your tongue pulling it out more as he bent down to get a better view pulling you closer to him, his hand drifting down to your ass giving the plush flesh a squeeze. “Good girl.”

Excitement bubbled in your veins as you looked at your boyfriend giving him another sticky kiss before grabbing the tube from your basket. He grabbed it holding your ass still as he screwed it open with one hand.

“Pucker those pretty lips for me.”

Instantly you did as you were told and let him paint your lips in the cherry-scented gloss before putting the tube between his teeth, the hand that cupped your ass was now holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You really do make a good red riding hood.”

His praise melted you like liquid heat that rushed between your legs and spread into your limbs as you grabbed the lip gloss from his mouth with a giggle leading him to the dance floor, the bass from the music vibrated the floor as Toji kept one hand possessively on your hip letting you grind your ass against him.

He let go of your hip and rested both hands on your waist pulling you closer to him watching the bottom hem of your short dress get caught on his jeans raising the fabric up a bit and giving him a view of your ass, his cock strained against his thigh as you danced seductively, trying to entice your boyfriend wasn’t a lot a work, just a little smirk while giving him bedroom eyes was a sure-fire way to get him naked.

People around you were too lost in their own world to care about you and Toji grinding against each other, large hands smoothed up and down your back as you bent slightly dancing. “We should take this somewhere more private.” He said fisting your hood and pulling you upright before he turned you to face him.

His eyes scanned your face as you rested one palm on his chest while opening your basket handing him the item Satoru gave you earlier feeling the muscles ripple and flex. “Mr. Wolf, you just can’t wait, can you? Our game starts……now.”

You dropped your palm before you walked away blending in with the crowd, your heart pumped hard in your chest, thrumming against your ribcage seeing the door that led to the patio in the backyard, whoever's house this was, it was nice, decorated to the nines in Halloween decorations, colors of black and orange and purple, scary cutouts, fake cobwebs and the people dressed in costumes filled the place.

Fresh air filled your lungs once you stepped outside into the night looking at the forest that lay at the edge of the property, trees acted like a fence keeping everyone out, but you wanted to go in, and with your heels on you walked slowly at first holding the basket close to you.

Your breath came out in white puffs as you made your way closer to the edge, branches broke under your feet as you put one hand on a tree trunk feeling the bark against your palm while you whipped your head left and right looking for Toji, he was supposed to watch from a window inside the house to make sure no one was following you, only him, tonight with the full moon the plan you two cooked up only made sense.

When you saw his outline and the signal you pulled your hood up shivering slightly at the harsh wind that picked up carrying the scent of fall and the fallen leaves. You gulped down the small lump that formed in your throat finding the dirt path lit by the moon that hung low in the inky sky that glittered with stars.

In the distance you could hear the woodland animals chirping, talking to one another, then the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and the feeling of being watched settled over you, Toji was close enough to keep a watchful eye on you as he moved from tree to tree, making sure to stay back a few feet, the last thing he wanted was for you to pinpoint where he was.

You whistled letting it bleed into the air as you held your basket closer seeing the small cottage nestled between dead trees, the branches twisted and turned into each other, almost like they were reaching for each other reminding you of yourself late at night seeking Toji out who was next you to while you were in the throes of sleep.

He got closer and watched you from behind a tree that gave him the perfect view as he watched you put the basket down bending over, the hem of your dress was pulled over the curve of your ass and your pussy was on full display and thankfully the person who owned the cottage wasn’t at home and kept a few lamps lit to keep the path filled with light.

His dick jumped at the sight and his mouth watered as he grabbed your panties from his back pocket pressing the fabric to his nose and inhaling deeply before he balled it back in his palm and grabbed his mask, the cheap rubber material smelled funny he thought as he focused his attention through the eye holes on you.

By now the aphrodisiac worked its way through your system, directing all blood flow to your cunt that ached to be touched or sucked, you almost reached down to rub your clit before stopping and crouching down in an attempt to direct your attention elsewhere.

You were busy looking through your basket for a blanket when Toji emerged from his hiding spot and he made his way over to you. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here?” He asked bending over and pressing his chest against your back.

A squeak squeezed its way through your lips feeling him, your ass and cunt exposed to the cool air was now hidden by Toji, his warmth seeping from his shirt through your dress that made you shiver in delight.

The whole plan was talked about beforehand, a little bit of role-playing and monsterfucking was a wonderful way to kick off Halloween.

He grabbed the plastic fake knife from his pocket as he snaked his arm to support your torso holding it upside down, the tip pointing at the ground as he kicked your ankles apart.

You opened your mouth to weakly protest when your balled-up panties were stuffed between your lips, the sound died in the back of your throat. Goosebumps blanketed you as heat rushed between your legs.

Salvia saturated your underwear as you caught your breath gripping his large forearm. Toji chuckled panting against your neck, his harsh breath from the mask sent chills down your spine.

By this point your clit was almost throbbing as he trailed the end of the plastic knife up between your legs and up under your skirt, the tip rubbed against your bare pussy pulling another whine from you.

“You smell so,” he stopped and buried the rubber nose into your neck inhaling deeply, “sweet, sweet enough to eat.”

His words made your knees weaken as you rolled your head back and looked at him, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth as your hood fell exposing your face.

“My, what a pretty face you have,” Toji whispered as he kept playing with your clit, only soft enough to keep you wanting more, the pressure never enough.

With slowed precision moves he angled the knife and rocked it making you moan, the tension slowly cracking as you whined desperately trying to hump whatever you could.

He chortled watching you try to reach climax. His name muffled through the panties as tears stained them, your mascara ran down your cheeks in fat clumps.

“Remember this was all your idea, you wanted this, and now you’re going to take everything I give.”

Toji ripped the mask off and looked at you with a sinister gleam in his eye and a smirk as he unbuttoned your hood letting it fall to the ground. “Lay it out then get on your back.”

Your legs felt like jelly as you dropped to your knees spreading the thin fabric out on the dirt before you laid on your back hurriedly hiking your dress up over your hips.

With panties still stuffed in your mouth it was impossible to reply to him, only obey. He followed suit and dropped to the forest floor in between your spread legs.

His palms rested on your knees as he looked at your pussy. “Play with yourself a little bit, show me how naughty you can be.”

What was supposed to be role-play turned into something else completely different, you didn’t care for the plan any longer, and the only thing that riddled your brain was the need to cum.

With deft fingers you splayed yourself open to him, greedy eyes ate up the view, your pussy wet from the pill, and having Toji this close to you, his own desire evident that strained in his jeans as he sat back a little too enjoy the show you put on, his name rolled off your tongue umpteenth time as you slid two fingers inside your cunt.

They weren’t even close to your boyfriend's thick fingers, the ones that always curled and scissored against the silken confines of your pussy while his thumb stroked your clit before replacing it with his mouth making sure you came on his tongue before splitting you open on his cock.

“Feel good?” He asked gruffly as he popped the buttons to his jeans, the dull throbbing that radiated down the length of his dick all the way to his heavy balls was getting to be too much, he licked his lips slowly unzipping his zipper then finally, his cock sprang free, thick and long leaking pre-cum from the bulbous head.

You nodded wildly and propped yourself up on one elbow working your fingers faster inside you, wet suctioning could be heard as Toji matched your pace, his fingers wrapped around his shaft pumping up and down. “You’re so fucking hot like this, and you want me so bad, don’t you? Red Riding Hood wants the werewolf to fuck her dumb, isn’t that right?”

Your answer was a whine as you arched your back off the ground, even though the air was chilly due to it being late October you were still hot, burning up alive it felt like almost the way you ached for Toji to touch you.

“Oh, that’s right,” he laughed looking at your ruined panties still stuffed in your mouth, “you couldn’t even say anything, now scream my name.” He growled bending down and settled his weight on top of you, his mouth slotted over yours, his tongue stroked against yours as he kissed you deep and messily.

You moaned into his mouth using your free hand to grasp at his inky hair before pulling your fingers out mewling at the loss. “T-Toji, please! Just touch and fuck me! Need you so bad!” You begged and teared up, the ache blossomed into a heat that overtook you, your skin was on fire, and your blood boiled.

“Good job with the begging but my name isn’t Toji, remember?”

“Just-” You moaned and broke off with a sob, snot, and tears caked your face as you felt his cock press against your stomach, he chuckled and ground his hips making sure you felt it.

“Just what? Just feel how hard you make me, I think instead of taking what's in your basket I’ll just take you instead.”

His threat made your cunt clench around nothing as he leaned back to grab your calves in both hands pushing your legs to your chest and glanced down at your pussy, slick and swollen he knew you needed him and he was tired of waiting too, the role-play leaving his head as he hooked both arms under your knees before he stood to his full height with you in his arms.

You gasped and held his shoulders, there was nothing you could do, your legs were spread wide as he rubbed the head of his cock lifting you higher in the air. “I got you.” He whispered leaning in to kiss you as he thrust inside you, slowly making you feel every single inch of him.

Toji groaned tightening his arms around your waist and using his brute strength to bounce you up and down while bending his knees and meeting each wet sloppy thrust, he slid in and out of your cunt with agonizing movements, and for a moment you swore you could feel him throb inside you.

With weakened limbs, you wrapped your arms around his neck seeking his mouth in a wet kiss, your tongue tangled with his and you could taste the need for you, it was hot the way he fucked you, his passion to be inside and taste you could never compare to anyone else you’ve been with, and at the moment you pulled back to look at him you knew you wanted to marry him.

“I love the way you feel,” Toji grunted, his neck strained with his burning orgasm as he ground your clit against his pubic bone, the soft hair tickling as you clawed at his shoulders wanting him closer than he already was, you kissed your way up his neck to his jaw then his mouth again claiming him in a passionate kiss.

His fingers dug into the plush of your waist as you tried to milk him, your cunt fluttered hard and tight around his cock that was buried all the way to the hilt inside you, his head flirting with your cervix mixing a small brush of pain with the pleasure that overtook you.

“Cum! I wanna cum!” You babbled throwing your head back and letting him fuck you harder while spreading his legs to have more leverage, at this point, you didn’t have any objections to him using you as his personal fleshlight, your skin slapped together mixing in with the heavy panting and moaning as you finally gave in.

Toji could feel your pussy sucking him deeper as he stilled keeping you flush against him as he filled you with thick hot ropes of cum that leaked out from where you two were joined, you both panted heavily as you kissed him once more. He slowly kneeled down on your hood and helped you wrap your legs around his waist, the position he had you in earlier left your legs feeling like jelly.

He stroked your head softly as he stared at you, the stars and moon lighting his handsome face up while he stayed buried deep inside still hard and ready to go. “T-that was so amazing.” You whispered and giggled still drunk off the orgasm he gave you, the need to have another one set ablaze between your cum filled cunt as you rocked your hips holding his shoulders.

“My cock drunk slut just can’t get enough.” He teased cupping your ass giving you the support to slowly ride him, the mixture of cum soaked into his jeans that rubbed against you, the fabric irritated you a bit but it didn’t matter when Toji lifted up holding your thighs now fucking you again while capturing your lips in another kiss that stole your breath.

“Happy Halloween.” You whispered pulling him closer with your heart thrumming hard against your rib cage knowing tonight he was going to fuck you good and dumb, just what you deserve.

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wordstome · 5 months

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What are the dads’ favorite bonding activities with their kids? 🥺

hello friend!!

Price: I like to imagine Price's girls are engaged in all sorts of extracurricular activities from ballet to the school play. I think his favorite bonding activity with them would be taking them out to eat after a recital or a performance. Just his little ladies and some good old greasy spoon diner food: what else could a man want? And you know that when the girls grow up, those nights are going to be some of their fondest childhood memories.

Ghost: Caden is a parallel play kind of kid. He's quietly doing his little crayon drawings next to Simon watching a tv show. I could also see them bonding when Simon takes Caden out to run errands with him, groceries and stuff. Caden gets a bit of socialization, and Simon is there if he gets overwhelmed and needs a bit of comfort. It really brings them together: the kid knows that no matter how distant his dad can be, he can always rely on Simon.

Soap: JOCK ALERT. His favorite bonding activity is taking his kids to the park. Impromptu soccer games, roleplaying on the playground equipment, buying them ice cream on a hot summer day. When Elodie's older, she stops going, preferring to hang out with friends or do her own thing. But I can see wayyyy in the future when she's an adult, she'll have a lot of nostalgia for those days and will love going on walks with her dad.

Gaz: Kyle is a planned activities kind of man, a very take the kids to Disney World and make lifetime memories sorta guy. Every summer the family gets an airbnb by the lake, and every winter they're off at a ski lodge. (Here's to that delicious, delicious dual income household.) Violet and Elliott are always the kids blowing into the first day of class full of stories about all the fun stuff they got up to over the summer.

König: Dress-up. Come on, you knew this was coming. He's so girldad. Ava can't keep her hands out of her dad's luscious locks, and loves making him paper crowns because of his callsign (he definitely speaks German with her at home so she knows what it means). He also buys Ava those big plastic playsets that are a grocery checkout or a little kitchen and roleplays little scenarios with her. Ava's a militant chef, by the way. She would make a great line cook.

Horangi: Concerts with his daughter, Ryujin. Probably a few raves, as well. Ryujin's a punk rock and indie scene kinda gal, but she'll listen to anything, and has a few favorite kpop groups whose concerts she's dragged Hong-jin to. He's a diehard Once (fan of the girl group Twice) himself. They've also definitely gotten a few tattoos/piercings together, which would be an odd thing to do with your dad if Ryujin's dad were not so cool.

Keegan: Same as Johnny, except instead of taking his kids to safe parks and soccer fields, he takes them into the woods. Camping, fishing, teaching them a bunch of useful skills. It's such a "things your divorced dad does with you when he doesn't know what else to do for the weekend you're staying with him" activity, but Jason and Cecelia have never had someone do those things with them before, so they're having a good time. Other than that, laser tag and airsoft is a big one. Keegan was hesitant to get them into stuff like that, but they've always been curious about his military career and things just sort of escalated from there. I saw this tiktok of a cosplayer in a Logan mask captioned "when you're playing airsoft with your 15-year spec ops dad" and it's the cosplayer plastering themselves against a wall in terror: that's Keegan's kids. He's not going to hold back when he plays, and they don't want him to.

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avatar-anna · 1 year

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Shopping Spree

i keep seeing videos of parents taking their kids to target and letting them buy whatever they want as long as it fits in their little shopping cart, and i just had to do that for my favorite family!

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

“Okay, Maeve, you know the rules, you can get whatever you want, as long as it fits in the shopping cart.”

Maeve nodded, her little four year old hands gripping her shopping cart like she didn’t need the instructions and just wanted to get started. Still, she smiled at where Y/n was holding her phone up to film. Her nose crinkled as she moved from foot to foot. “Yes, Mama. I know.”

“Alright then. Go crazy, my love.”

Giggling, Maeve set off down the main aisle. “Makeup section first!”

“Makeup section? She—She’s four she doesn’t need—”

Y/n turned her phone camera toward her husband for a moment. “Anything she wants, remember?”

Harry was the one who suggested this little shopping spree. Ever since the world began to open up again, Y/n and Harry started letting the kids out of the house more. They were adjusting to the normal world again after being locked up, wearing masks to school, washing their hands, making new friends, dealing with the separation from their parents after being with them 24/7 for so long. Everyone except Maeve, who Harry and Y/n were told was having a hard time at school socially. She didn’t want to participate in class and cried throughout the day, sometimes wouldn’t let Julian play with the other children, and not making any effort to make friends. “It’s not uncommon. Lots of children are struggling to adjust, and she’s just used to a specific way of living,” her preschool teacher said when she asked for a meeting with Y/n and Harry.

So to cheer Maeve up, Harry decided she needed a shopping spree. Y/n all but rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but he insisted that retail therapy worked wonders for him. She finally caved, but only until they agreed on finding other ways to help out as well. Harry just kissed his wife before putting his wallet in his bacl pocket. “Well duh. Now come on. Today’s gonna be great.”

So now they were trailing behind their four year old as she pushed her little red shopping cart.

“Ooh. This looks pretty!” Maeve said, grabbing an eyeshadow palette with all sorts of sparkly pink and purple shades and dropping it into the cart.

Maeve continued on, working through the makeup section, the clothes, where she found some very cute sunglasses and a denim jacket, then the toy section. The three of them spent a lot of time in the toy aisles. Barbie dolls, a Rapunzel costume, plush candy hearts, and—

“Shopkins we have to get Shopkins,” she said, reaching on her tip toes for a collection of toys in bright pink plastic wrapping.

“You’re running out of space there, sweet pea,” Harry said, eyeing the cart. It was his idea to let his daughter roam free throughout the store, but he didn’t expect her to fill the cart so much. Or be so good at fitting everything just right.

“It’s fine,” Maeve said, then continued on to the next aisle.

Before long, Maeve was stuck with making decisions on what to keep in the cart and what to leave behind. Which Barbie to keep, where to fit that stuffed animal. For a moment, Maeve stood and stared at all the things she piled into her shopping cart, another box in her hands. Then, she turned to Harry.

“You can just hold this one,” she said, handing the box over to him.

Harry nearly took it from his daughter’s outstretched hand before Y/n stepped in. “Hang on there, Maeve. Those weren’t the rules,” she said, trying to hide her laughter.

Maeve pouted at her for a moment, and unsurprisingly, so did Harry. But then she shrugged and switched out one box so she could fit the other one in and carried on.

“Tyrant,” Harry muttered.

“Pushover,” Y/n muttered back, then kissed his cheek.

As they were heading back to the front of the store, Maeve stopped as she saw a pair of sparkly blue shoes hanging up on a rack that was well within her reach. She immediately grabbed a pair, and Y/n almost said she didn’t have any room for the shoes when Maeve simply hooked them onto something else in the cart. “There! All done!”

Harry had to hide his face in Y/n’s shoulder so he wouldn’t laugh loudly and bring attention to them. Y/n covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled quietly and continued to film. She had to hand it to her daughter, she was as crafty as Y/n was and as willing to do anything to buy what she wanted as Harry. A perfect mix of the two.

Maeve strolled up to the cash register, slipping some last minute candy into her cart before she began placing her things on the conveyor belt. She had a smile on her face the whole time, especially when the cashier marveled at all of the things she’d crammed into the little shopping cart. Harry had to admit that he hadn’t seen his daughter this excited or social in a long time. Maeve showed the older woman behind the counter all the things she found, pulled out the bills from the pockets of her little jean shorts that Harry gave to her a few aisles back, and put the change in the brand new purse she bought once the woman handed it over to her.

Y/n and Harry helped Maeve get her bags into her shopping cart, and all three of them waved goodbye to the cashier as they left the store. Maeve skipped the whole way, ecstatic about all the things she bought all by herself. When they got to the car, Harry lifted her up and into his arms and kissed her cheek.

“Have fun today, peach?”

Maeve nodded. “I got so much stuff!”

Harry helped her into her car seat while Y/n slid into the passenger seat. She turned back to look at Maeve, who was already asking Harry to open toys sealed in plastic. “You know, Maeve,” she said. “There’s some really cool stuff you could show to your classmates, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” she said, not sounding particularly excited or daunted by the task. “I think I’ll just show Collette and JuJu.”

“Why don’t you want to show your friends at school, peach?” Harry asked, smoothing her hair back.

“I don’t need friends. I have JuJu and Collette and Simone and Mommy and Daddy,” she said, kicking her feet in her car seat.

Harry glanced back at Y/n, who just motioned for him to continue. She got the ball rolling, now it was up to him to take it home. He looked back at Maeve and gave her a small smile. “I love that you love your brother and sisters, Maeve, but there’s some really nice boys and girls at your preschool that could be your friends too.”

“Everyone already has friends at school.” Maeve said, looking down at her hands.

“Well, who do you sit next to during circle time?” Y/n asked.

“JuJu.”

“Okay…so maybe you and Jules can sit next to another kid during circle time,” Harry said, kissing her forehead. “You are the coolest four year old I know, and your family is so lucky because we get to see that all the time, but I think all those kids in your preschool class should be lucky too.”

Maeve was quiet, her brow furrowed as she thought about what Harry said. Both Harry and Y/n watched with bated breath, not sure where to go from here if she said no. Y/n had brought up seeing a specialist, but Harry wasn’t sure that was necessary yet, thinking she just needed to come out of her shell. And maybe they would have to have Maeve start seeing a behavior specialist, Harry would do anything to make his baby happy and healthy, but he didn’t think they were there yet.

“I think that would be okay,” Maeve finally said. “But not Samuel. He picks his nose. Bleh.”

Harry chuckled and kissed her again. “Not Samuel, then. Someone else. Maybe someone who likes Rapunzel like you do.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Y/n’s grin was wide as Harry slid into the driver’s seat. He buckled himself in, then lifted his hand up toward her. She high-fived him and held his hand as he pulled away from the parking lot and began the drive home. Squeezing his hand, she turned up the music on the radio with the other, then murmured to him so Maeve couldn’t hear, “Another excellent parenting moment.”

“We could write a book,” Harry mused.

“Mm. How to raise six—six—children,” Y/n said, correcting him when he tried to imply they might raise more than six children in the future. That would not be happening. “How to raise six children during the pandemic when you were already living in secret.”

Harry pouted, but Y/n let him. Then, he said, “Might have to work on the title. It’s a little clunky.”

“You’re a little clunky.”

“Oh. Very mature.”

“Mommy, can we make pizza tonight?”

Y/n looked back to where Maeve was holding one of her new stuffed animals. “Of course we can, peach. What are you going to do at school tomorrow?”

“Sit with JuJu and someone else during circle time.”

“And snack time?” Harry added.

“Don’t push it,” Maeve said.

“All right, all right,” Harry said. Then, quietly to his wife, he said, “If only she was that sharp at school.”

Y/n giggled. “Give it time. She’s our baby. She’ll be just fine.”

“Can we do that again tomorrow?”

At a red light, Harry and Y/n shared a look. They were both thinking the same thing, but only Harry said, “We’ve possibly created a monster.”

#harry styles #young dadrry #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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sukunasstomachtongue · 5 months

Text

The Race: Lap Two

Pairing: Sukuna x Bunny (black fem OC)

Rating: Mature | Minors leave me alone

Warning: Cursing, houseless character, light smut that I couldn’t follow through on, OOC Sukuna (don’t say anything I need comfort), my brand of humor, barely edited

Series Masterlist | Previously

“Well, if it isn’t little bunbun. Why are you here? Got fired for being a bad role model to the youth?” Gojo shifted his weight to rest his elbows on the counter. The harsh fluorescent lighting all government-funded buildings had washed out his complexion, yet he still managed to look nothing short of ethereal to Bunny.

She tsk’d, a habit of her boyfriend that she unfortunately picked up. How she managed to quietly slam the book in her possession closed would be a mystery to Gojo.

“If you’re not here to clear your debt, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, Gojo. Technically you’re not even ‘sposed to be allowed within 20 meters of our doors.”

Both individuals refused to break eye contact, waiting for the other to chicken out and avert their gaze. Bunny had to fight off her signature sinister grin, the one she displays in the backstreets while riding shotgun in a barely street-legal car. No, she had to save that smile for the right time and place. The local public library barely surviving and on its last two legs hardly fit the criteria.

She gave him what Shoko called her ‘librarian smile.’ Kind and sickeningly sweet, giving the impression that she had all the time in the world to help a patron in need.

Gojo conceded after a few seconds of being on the receiving end of that smile. Her brown eyes glinted with victory.

“What if I did come to pay off my debt, hm? I can stay?” Bunny said nothing but went to work on her computer, lazily tapping the tablet on the patron side of the counter, prompting the man to move and look at the information displayed.

Gojo, Satoru

Amount Paid: $3.86

Amount Due: $834.98

Will you be paying: Cash, Credit/Debit Card, or Check?

“Fuck me, Bunbun! This is insane! What type of operation are you running?” Gojo groaned into his hands, ignoring the harsh glares aimed his way for his loud voice. Long nails tapped rhythmically against the keyboard, before clutching the side of the monitor and swinging it around to show more of his account.

“You have a bad habit of renting movies and never returning them. You rented ‘Return of the Mask’ and ‘Belly’ five years ago. Should I ask why those two movies were rented at the same time?”

Her taunts only drew more groans from his throat. Quickly slapping his face, Gojo reaches into his pocket, grumbling about unsuccessful hookups and drunken mistakes. The slam of his plastic card made no impact on Bunny. As quickly as he presented it, the librarian ran it through the system, clearing his debt.

“You know, now that you’re clear we can take down your mugshot on the bulletin board. Wanna take it home?”

The wide grin was all the answer she needed.

***

“Bunny, we need to restock our hygiene packs tonight. Glen said we’re down to five and it's only getting hotter out there.”

“I’ll get on it after I take my break.” She replied, busy logging books back into the system. After Gojo left, the library returned to its usual hushed business. Citizens came and went through the automatic door, focused on their own tasks.

Filling out job applications, playing computer games, writing an essay, meeting up for study sessions, and inquiring about citizenship classes, the library serves as a vital organ in the community. Its value is what made Bunny want to work there in the first place. All her tasks served a purpose for the greater good.

That’s what she had to tell herself to not lose her mind and go ballistic on the inconsiderate patrons and lazy coworkers.

Those hygiene packs were a task given to Glen, who passed it to Asano, who decided to drop it in Bunny’s lap before leaving for the day. Granted, at this location, Bunny didn’t have the authority or sway to go against an order.

Still, Bunny gritted her teeth and got to it like she said she would. The supply room had a table and old worn-out chair that could have been from the 70s, providing a workstation to build the packs. They were nothing lavish. A few water bottles, dental care, deodorant, a towel, new socks, and other necessities to ease the constant dingy feeling of being unhoused and exposed to the elements and the city’s unpleasant side.

She got into a grove after the first two packs were done, head bopping to city pop that fought the static out of the old radio in the corner to be audible. Every few packs, her neck would tilt to the side to lightly stretch the stiff muscles there. When she reached for the last pair of socks, her stomach grumbled. The few snacks she stole from the vending machine were not enough to tie her over until dinner.

Would Sukuna make his rendition of her grandmother’s red beans and rice tonight?

Thoughts now focused on food and related topics, she unchecked the box next to ‘socks’ on the supply list on their worn board. Hands full with the large bin they used to transport the packs outside, Bunny made her way outdoors.

In his earlier years, Glen had old lockers from a high school repurposed to look presentable along the inside of the exterior wall. They stood under the protruding concrete covering, shielded from harh weather conditions, visible from the central help desk inside where someone could keep an eye out. Opposite of the lockers was a poster from the early 70s, faded but still legible, inviting everyone inside to access resources everyone needed in the modern age.

For the last few hours of her shift, Bunny led story time in the children’s section, several coming from the school she worked at which led to many tears of joy and anger directed at her by children who were not happy to see her absent that day. Ending the story time with a nice group hug and a promise to return to her rightful post had her back in their good graces.

From there, she remained stationed at the help desk, offering book suggestions and recommendations to classes the library offered to the colorful clientel. The short hand on the clock had begun nearing 5, signaling the end of her time here. Making her rounds, Bunny waved her goodbye to the others as she walked to the back to retrieve her purse.

Stepping outside the automatic doors, the sight infront of her made her pause to confirm the person digging a pack out of the outdoor lockers was who she thought it was.

“Yuji?”

***

Dropping her bag on the table, Bunny released a loud sigh. Her shoulders ached after hours of shelving new and returned books all day. The local library had a much larger stock than the one at the schoolhouse, with more genres outside of children and young adult. It had been her first challenging shift in a long time, not including the last hour.

The smell of garlic invaded her nose, making the muscles flex as the button of her nose scrunched up. There was no reason for something out of season to smell so pungent.

“Come here and taste this broth, I’m not sure if I added enough paste.” There, with one hand tucked into the tie of his apron with the other clutching the ladle above the pot, stood her boyfriend, hard at work trying to feed them. The sight warmed her heart.

The onions brought tears to her eyes.

The surprise she had in store for Sukuna sent shivers down her spine.

“Suki…” He grunted and twisted at his waist to look back. Before she could open her mouth to continue, the hot ladle was at her lips waiting for entry. The tip of her pink tongue dipped in the liquid, coating her tastebuds with flavor.

“Good. Could use some lemon or citrus for some tang.” Sukuna eyed her with thought, taking her suggestion as he slurped the remaining broth, smacking his mouth to extract any hidden flavor.

“No. That’ll mess up the balance. This is why we can’t cook together.”

“We can’t cook together because you like to hog the front right burner.”

“It’s the best one.”

“It’s the biggest one and is supposed to be used for big pots, not frying a single egg.” Bunny grimaced as her shoulder tinged in pain, the already tired nerves becoming more agitated as she danced around her surprise. Just like a bandaid, Bunny coached herself. “ Suki-”

“Agree to disagree. Why are you wincing? Got into another fight with that old hag?”

“Fortunately no. She learned her lesson the last time.” Or maybe not like a bandaid at all, maybe like removing shrapnel from a wound. Nice and slow, and gently to not lacerate any nearby blood vessels.

“Good. I know you want to be a lady of leisure but right now we still need your income. Unless you wanna end up on the streets like that brat.” Or maybe not like a bandaid or like shrapnel. Instead, just like a rug being ripped from under her orthopedic loafers.

“Come on Yuji, he knows.” At her beckon, the pink-haired kid slid into the kitchen, back against the nearest wall. His arm was in a dingy cast and he looked weary. “How’d you know?”

An exasperated sigh came from the stove, followed by a slurp, hum, and finally, the click of the burner being switched from high to medium.

“My sweet stupid Bunny, did you already forget that we installed cameras last month? Set the table. And you, brat. Sit down and get ready to tell us everything.”

As she followed his demand, Bunny fell even more in love with her boyfriend.

****

Sukuna, Yuji decided after smelling the first decent meal he’s been given in three months, was not as bad as everyone on the scene said he was. Sure he had a temper and really didn't care for the community of street racing like most did - like Yuji did after losing his grandfather- but it didn’t make him a horrible person. In a way, Sukuna was on the other side of the same coin as Nanami. They both were serious about their chosen illegal interest but also had a life outside of it. Nanami with his day job, and Sukuna with-

“Fucking Martha decided she wanted to flirt with Geshin instead of completing her tasks. So guess who had to cover her thirsty ass instead of making the itinerary for the career workshop that’s happening in a week?”

“You?”

“Me. I wanted to cuss the bitch out for pulling that shit but I’m scared she might have a degradation kink or something. Y’know last employee evaluation I swear to god that hoe had stars in her eyes when Boss yelled at her about her performance.” Bunny ranted as her hands set the table, paying no mind to the opening notes of pork being cooked.

“Geshin… that's the guy who just had a baby, right?”

“Yep, and that’s his fifth baby this year. Man needs to get locked up at this point. He’s trying to become the next Genghis Khan. I don’t know why Martha would want his ass when she was just at his last baby shower. Eating that dry-ass cake like Betty Crocker made it.”

“Damn, that’s crazy.” At his commentary, she cut her eyes to look at the back of his head.

“What did you do today?” The roar of the pork being seared and fat popping against the heat of the pan set the ambiance in their kitchen.

“Nothing. Worked on my jobs, bought some shit online, got a call from the old man for the next race.”

“Oh yeah? When and where?”

“Next Weekend. It's a collab with some other organizers in the outskirts. The track is legit.” Calloused hands worked swiftly to cut the pork into manageable pieces while Bunny opened the kitchen window to air out the smoky atmosphere building up. Sukuna scoffed at the action, he thought Bunny was overdramatic for opening the window every time he cooked using fire.

He had a house, a business, someone to come home and compare days to, Yuji watched. It was a shock to him and anyone on the scene if they found out, except Gojo he assumed. Gojo poked and prodded at Sukuna like an old zookeeper who’s been tending to the same wild animal for decades.

“Next week?” Bunny pouted, the table was finally set with everything but the protein. She sat next to Yuji, still facing her significant other as they rambled on. Briefly, Yuji wondered if he took the older man’s seat, but made no move to relocate when Bunny began pouring water for three cups and opening a bottle of wine to pour into two glasses.

“I know, you have that convention.” For the first time all night, Sukuna looked at the kid at his dinner table. He looked hungry and noticeably thinner than the last time he was seen before that race. His arm had been set in a cast that took on a reddish-earthy brown. Their hair had the same disheveled look, but for two different reasons.

Briefly, the two males shared a thought.

Are we related, they thought to each other, with Bunny none the wiser as she placed portions on their plates.

“Thanks for the food.”

Yuji had not finished closing his mouth around the first bite before the older man probed him.

“Alright brat, start talking.”

Shifting the hot pork to the side of his mouth, Yuji spoke. “Got pulled out the car and an ambulance took me to the hospital. The doctors said it was a miracle I survived without any serious injuries. The only thing I really injured was my wallet.”

“They say we’re all one emergency from being homeless,” Sukuna muttered. Yuji took a stab at another piece of greasy steaming pork. Bunny quietly placed more food on the kid’s plate.

“They were right. I don’t have a dollar to my name. My car got compounded. No family. This is the first meal I’ve had this week.”

“Oh Yuji…” At her sorrowed tone, Sukuna’s lip pulled in one direction. Good thing they never threw out her old futon.

***

“What a day,” followed by a long yawn was how Bunny started her night routine. Stepping into the shower to wash away the past eighteen hours, she let out another loud yawn to emphasize her energy levels to Sukuna who stood at the vanity, completing his skincare routine.

No funny business tonight.

“I bet. On top of your job, now you want to become a mother.”

“Not a mother. A helping hand, that’s all. A fun auntie at most. Yuji is only 16, too young to be on the streets.” the shower door slid down its track, wide enough to allow another body to slip in behind her. Rough hands sheltered her shoulders from the water, radiating heat through the layers of melanin-rich skin.

“You and your bleeding heart. I can’t even begin to understand how you end up in these situations. He better not steal shit out of my office.” Sukuna talked, hands massaging along the muscles of her neck. Bunny sighed in relief, her lazy bun hitting the top of his pectorals as she relaxed.

“He’s a good kid. On the train, he basically sat between me and everyone else like a guard dog.” Her body wash added the mellow scent of cucumber melon to the humid air. As her sudsy cloth scrubbed her skin, her ass nudged the lazy weight of Sukuna’s dick.

“Oh, so thats what this is? You wanna take in a stray, huh? Thats it. Is this about the cat from last week? I know you were sad when it went back to its owner but you-”

A sharp about face interrupted his ribbing. Sukuna suddenly found it hard to concentrate with a steaming soapy woman clouding his retinas. Fuck Martha and Geishin and every single person at the stupid library for tiring his girlfriend out with their bullshit. She probably wouldn’t even take a simple cockwarming session with her energy so low.

“C’mon, Kuna. Be serious. Tell me you would have left him on the street looking like that?”

“I could have.” A glare had Sukuna retract his statement. Lifting a hand from her frame to wipe the droplets from his face, he ceded. “I get it. Fine, lets take the kid in for a bit, until he’s back on his feet.”

A downpour of water thudded at their feet as Bunny wrong out her cloth. Adding his soap, unscented for sensitive skin, she began working a lather on his abs. “He can help you in the shop.”

“Mmm, no. Sorry Bunny. This is your stray, your responsibility. Ask ‘im if he ever finished school. Get him a GED or some shit.”

“Like trade school.”

“Fuck, go ahead and adopt the kid.” The couple fell quiet after that. Sukana placed a few kisses on her temple when they took turns standing underwater to rinse. His hands slid down her skin and rested for a beat on the sides of her asscheeks. This was intimacy. Pulling her cheeks apart to let the water wash any trapped soap was the most intimate shit he’s ever down.

A ding from the towel warmer signaled the end of their shower. Before she could reach to turn the water off, Sukuna had pressed her against his body, their flesh conforming to each other. His dick twitched awake as he inhaled her scent. Cucumber melon, warmth, and smell that was purely her. He couldn't help but land a few kisses and nips along her neck as the water continued to spray.

The water bill would definitely be in the triple digits this month, much to Bunny’s chagrin.

“Y’so tense, Bunny. I think you need a massage.” He huffed into her ear, finally ready to turn off the water. The sudden cold goaded her into pressing herself tighter against her significant other, seeking more external warmth.

“Mm, that sounds nice.”

“C’mon pet, lets get you dry, huh?” Together, they exited the shower, steam spilling at their feet. Bunny detached from him and lazily bounced over the warm towels, wrapping one around herself and bringing the other to Sukuna to wrap around his hips.

“Go lay on the bed, pet. I’ll get the body oil.”

***

“Oh fuck, Kuna. Thank you, baby!” She moaned into the cotton sheets, her breath caught on the last syllable and making her high-pitched at the end. Sukuna’s hands were strong from his day job, and all the strength was being used on her, working knots and stagnant energy out her muscles. He had her belly down, with his thick thighs trapping her torso under his straddle. His fingers dug into the flesh of her upper back, bullying the blood up towards her neck and down her arms.

“Welcome baby. I gotta take care of you since you insist on taking care of that brat. You were already tired before. You gotta stop that bleeding heart of yours.” Sukuna let his drool drip freely on her oiled back, making the trip every few minutes to collect the saliva and massage it into her pores.

His dick was no better, beading at the tip and collecting in the small of her back. Bunny could feel it. He knew she could feel. She knew he knew she could feel it. Though her libido was rising to the occasion, her body yearned for rest. True rest. But she was too tired to dissuade Sukuna. Hell, as long as she didn’t have to ride she wouldn’t protest all that much.

His hands moved from her upper back back to her hips and the swell of her ass. Her skin gleaned under the big light. Under his touch, the oil, saliva, and cum mixed to create a new concoction.

“Oh fuck, bunny. I know you feel me.” He groaned as he bucked his hips, his dick sliding along the crack of her ass.

“I do but- I’m so tired, Kunabear.” the shake of her hips contradicted her words. Soft lips planted scorching kisses on her tattooed shoulder and warm hands moved from her ass to slide under her hips. “And, Yuji might hear us.”

“So just spread those pretty legs, toot that ass up for me, and bite down on a pillow so the kid doesn’t hear his savior getting fucked.” His fingers ran up her slit, collecting the escaped slick to rub against her clit. “Shit,” his hips bucked again, mindlessly rutting his dick against her oiled flesh. “Always wet for me, no matter what your mouth says, that pussy will always listen to me.”

“I-ah, fuck me. Here, damn.” Her hip rose as she arched her back perfectly. With more space to move, Sukuna trailed to her opening, keeping his thumb on her aching nub. A whine escaped her throat. He fingered her frantically, barely prepping her hole to take his heavy cock. “Gimma a kiss at least”

“How about ten?”

***

Bunny stared at the fresh coffee dripping down into the pot. Her body was enveloped in the robe Gojo got her from his last trip overseas. It was nice and fluffy and the cause of Sukuna’s hairy eyeball from across the room. It took everything in her to not laugh at him angrily stabbing his breakfast quiche.

“Don’t give me that look.” She scoffed. Her boyfriend rolled his eyes, too tired to start shit with a sleep deprived Bunny.

“Just make me a cup too. Gotta finish a couple projects today so I need to head out in a few. You going anywhere today?”

“No. I’ll be doing laundry and picking up after your mess.”

“That’s you hair in the drain baby. Don’t put that shit on me.” As they went back and forth, the stairs creaked under the weight of a body coming downstairs.

“Morning. Coffee?” Bunny offered him before yuji stepped foot into the kitchen. His eyes pingponged between the two adults before nodding, giving a grunted hello as he sat down at the same chair as last night.

Bunny busied herself with pouring three mugs, concocting hers and Sukuna with their usual cream and sugars. At the sight of Yuji’s eyebags, her hands reached out for the pot again to pour a little more into his mug.

She dispersed the mugs, keeping hers in one hand and digging the other in Sukuna’s wild hair. Wordlessly, he offered her a piece of his quiche.

“Sleep okay? I know the futon is old and seen better days?” She asked her ward. Yuji gave a brief shake of his head. He barely let the coffee cool before tilting half of the liquid down his throat.

“Futon’s fine. You guys were loud.”

Sukuna had to place his mug back on the table to avoid spilling it at the brat’s words. Red eyes attempted to meet his girlfriend’s but she had her head turned down to avoid any contact.

Yuji wanted to apologize for his comment, which was actually an understatement. From Yuji’s perspective last night, he’s surprised Bunny was fully functional today.

He could see why Gojo talked so much perverted shit about the woman. Megumi let it slip once that Gojo had a chance to get with the sassy librarian but Sukuna swooped in at the last second.

“Close your ears next time.” Bunny choked out, swooping down to take another piece of the quiche before leaving the kitchen, fluffy robe flouncing in the air.

The two males sat in silence, the sound of Sukuna scrapping the last of his breakfast up filling the void.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t give a rat's ass if you hear.” Sukuna replied, collecting his dishes and sipping the last of his coffee. “We do fuck loud and often. So if that’s a problem you should probably leave now.”

Yuji grimaced. He and Sukuna both knew putting up with a little noise was infinitely better than sleeping outside again.

“Bunny, I’m out!” Sukuna yelled, his rough voice reverberating through the room to wherever his girlfriend ran too. His keys were in his pocket and he was almost out the door before she responded.

“Take ‘im with you!” The men looked at each other again. Sukuna scanned the kid up and down, eyeing Yuji’s build and hands before grunting.

“You ever worked on cars?”

“Yeah. I can do the basics.” Yuji offered, hurriedly stuffing his feet into his shoes by the door.

“Yeah, well you’ll be doing filter changes and refilling wiper fluid. Let’s go.”

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alfiely-art · 4 months

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God I fucking hate Makoto Kagutsuchi so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid baby face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking pants? Who the hell makes a homunculus with purple pants. His dumb flaily fucking twink arms? His shitty, baby bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking VACANT FOREHEAD that no homunculus has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Makoto or a Makoto gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Makoto the fuckshit masked man, I like warm baths". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Izuru Kamukura summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking pink tongue and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking sympathetic villain character in a stupid fucking video game, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the masked dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking mask. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional twink

#copypasta #shitposting #yomi hellsmile #makoto kagutsuchi #if you want the original post ill tell you just. be prepared.#rain code #master detective archives: rain code #raincode #mdarc #meme #shitpost #copypaste #raincode spoilers #mdarc spoilers #long post

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bouncybongfairy · 9 months

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Hidden In Plain Sight Part 1

Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem Reader

Summary: You were on your way to class, finishing up some last-minute homework on the subway. The train derails, causing mass chaos. The subway car you're in is badly mangled, leaving you trapped behind a bent hand railing. While getting saved by spiderman, his mask gets caught on a jagged piece of metal. You come face to face with someone you'd never imagined and ever since then, you can't keep him off your mind.

Work Count: 3k+

Part 2 is now posted! <3

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was raining out, dark clouds were covering the sky. The subway was incredibly sleepy today. Everyone seemed like they were still half asleep. It was peaceful, hearing the rain hitting the roof of the train. You finished up a math assignment that should have been done last night. Your statistics class was really kicking your ass. To make matters worse, you spilled a bit of your coffee onto the corner of the page; it was bugging the hell out of you. You were watching other passengers exit one by one. There was a mother with a baby stroller that was draped in a plastic lining. Two teenage girls who were holding hands, giggling with one another. After finishing the last equation, dusting off the eraser bits off the page and admiring your work, you put it away. It wasn't until then that you noticed that you were alone in the car. You smiled to yourself a little. Normally the train was always packed, so it was cool to have the entire space to yourself. You notice that you're pulling up to your stop, so you put away your phone and headphones into your bag. Before you could even register what happened, you were pinned underneath a bar of metal.

Your vision was now blurry and the ringing in your ear was so loud that it was making your eyes water. You start moving your limbs around weakly, trying to detect any pain or blood. You looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. It was like one second you were existing and the next you were so disoriented you can't even speak. There was shattered glass everywhere, drops of water coming from the roof. The metal that made up the train car was busted in several areas, yet you were still completely enclosed. Your bookbag was near you. You try reaching for it, to get to your phone and call for help but couldn't quite reach. You began screaming for help; you were straining your voice so hard that barely any sounds were coming out. Quickly your screams turned into sobs. You were beginning to get claustrophobic. Using all your force trying to pry all bars off you, it was like pushing on a brick wall. The doors were getting pried open; you noticed, but were more worried about getting out from underneath the crushed metal; you were becoming frantic.

"Hi, it's okay I'm gonna help you out of here. Just try to stay relaxed while I figure out a way to get you out of here," he said.

"Please get me out of here!" you cried out starting to hit the metal out of desperation.

"I am, hey just listen for a second," he said, grabbing your face with his hands to get you to focus, "I think I can get you out by lifting you through the bars, instead of having to pry them up. It won't take as long. You really need to calm down though, okay?" he said, you nodded your head and started taking deep breaths in.

He crawled up to the ceiling positioned himself above you, his feet were attached to the wall. He then reached down and grabbed you underneath your arms. He started to slowly pull you out from the space you were lodged in. He was giving you simple instructions while encouraging you. Saying things like 'strengthen your legs a little' or ' you're doing great, you're practically out'. He used his webbing to grab your bag, his other arm was wrapped around your ribcage. Once he pulled you fully out, the adrenaline was starting to ease up a little. You looked up at him and saw his mask, focusing on the stitch lining; taking in every detail. A jagged piece of metal catches the top of his mask and pulls it off. His face was red, like he'd been working out for hours. His hair wasn't soaked but you could tell it was damp with sweat. Due to it being cold outside, when the mask first came off condensation was coming off his head. When you made eye contact, you literally saw his pupils change his eye color from blue to pitch black. You were only making eye contact for a couple seconds but it felt like much longer than that. You could hear the clanking of police gear, their footsteps getting closer and louder. You grabbed his mask and pulled it over his face without saying anything. He adjusted it on his head before leaving you with the police who escorted you to an ambulance.

Other than a few flesh wounds and a mild concussion you were fine. You were told to take it easy for the next week. Ever since the interaction with Spider-Man you couldn't stop thinking about him. You kept looking at videos of him on the news, where they were filming him while in such dangerous fights. He couldn't have been much older than you and it made you feel bad for him. You were in college and worked, even that made you feel like you were being suffocated with obligations. You couldn't help letting your mind wander a bit, thinking about how his eyes widened; how vulnerable yet strong he looked. You were sitting in the bathtub, it was Saturday night but the last thing you wanted to do was go out.

The water was so hot it was steaming, it took you a moment to adjust yourself to the hot water. Once you did, you could feel your muscles loosening. You had just finished your homework for the week and you didn't work in the morning. It was nice being able to relax without subconsciously being worried about going to work the next day or an assignment you forgot to do. Music was playing from the speaker, you had a towel next to the tub to dry your hand whenever you wanted to change the song or take a hit from your pen. The bubbles were beginning to lose their battle with the water and were slowly disappearing.

After getting out of the tub you dry yourself with a towel and make your way to your bedroom. You change into some sweat pants and a tee shirt and order something off uber-eats. The last thing you wanted to do was make yourself dinner after such a hectic week. You ended up settling on walking to your local deli instead of ordering out. The bodega was only three blocks up the road and there was enough light outside to walk there safely. You throw on a pair of shoes and grab your purse before making your way down the stairwell. You saw your neighbor Amarita who was sweeping the steps, she is such a sweet lady.

"Y|N! I'm glad I caught you, I wanted to let you know there's a new neighbor moving in tonight. All I know is that it's a younger guy, I just wanted to let you know in case you think it's a stranger or creep," she said, supporting her weight on the broom.

"Thanks for letting me know, do you want anything from Mitch's? I'm going down to get some dinner," you offered.

"Oh thank you babe! Can you please get me a Tuna sub with lettuce and onions please? But only half, it's so big I can never finish it," she complained and gave you a kiss on the cheek before you left.

'I love that little old lady' - you thought to yourself.

Once you got to the deli you were greeted by a couple workers, you were a regular there. You ordered the subs and then strolled around looking for drinks and a couple snacks. You grabbed a Diet Coke, a pickle and some chips. You got Amarita a coconut water and a chocolate bar; you also ordered her a 12 inch so she would have something to eat later if she got hungry. You walked back quickly because of how cold it was outside. When you got back to your apartment, you knocked on Amarita's door to give her dinner. When she didn't answer even after the third knock you thought about walking in but she came up the stairwell before you could.

"Oh Y|N you're back just in time. This is Peter, he'll be moving into the apartment in between us," she said beaming.

The minute you locked eyes with him you immediately recognized him, he seemed to remember you as well because his eyes said it all. They widened just as they did on the subway, you swallowed and took a deep breath. You snapped out of it and handed her the food you bought her. She was playfully scolding you about how much money you spent on her. You broke away from eye contact and assured her that it wasn't a big deal and that it was more important to you that she was fed. When you looked back at him, he was still staring, like he was waiting for you to react.

"It was nice meeting you Peter, I'm Y|N by the way," you said smiling while rummaging through your purse to find your keys.

"Yeah I uh- It's nice meeting you too," he stuttered out.

You went back inside and had to check your heart rate. You knew that was him, there was no doubt about that. What would be the benefit of you confronting him about it, it's not really any of your business. It's not like he was doing anything illegal and putting him would be pointless. It did make you a little nervous living next door to Spider-Man. What if he attracts a villain here and you get caught in a dangerous crossfire. You sat on your bed and turned on Jersey Shore eating your food while thinking about the fact that one of New York's top crime fighters was snoring next door.

The next morning when you got up, you were thrilled to see that you slept in till 11. You got dressed and opened up your laptop, scrolling through your emails. There was none that stuck out to you and ended up closing the computer out of boredom. It was raining again today which made the view out your fire escape look like a windows lock screen. You hear a couple of teenagers shrieking from the ground, pointing with smiles on their faces. Suddenly a blue and red blob flew right past your window. You gasp and jump back before going back to your window to investigate. It was him, flying through the air using his web. Making different poses as he hit his peak height. You looked at the rim of your window and noticed webbing that was left behind. Without really thinking about why, you opened the window and grabbed it. Pulling into your room like a rope. It was sticky but because of the rain, you could tell the adhesive was worn off. You leave in on your window seal, you were mad at yourself for caring so much. You go into the kitchen and pull out the other half of your sandwich before going back to your bed. You turn on your T.V and scroll through documentaries to fall asleep after you enter your food coma.

Your only day off ended as quickly as it started, it was nice to spend the entire day in bed though. It felt like your body needed all that time to catch up on rest. You got up and showered, you had to get ready for your statistics class today. It was one of the first times the sun had been out in a week and a half. After getting out of the shower you began blow drying your hair in the bathroom. Your laptop was sitting on the vanity, playing Jersey Shore. It was blasting through a portable speaker, you kept humming the theme song as it played. You were thankful that the rain had let up because you could finally go out with your hair flat ironed. You bite through your closet and settle on a pair of jeans and a fitted long sleeve shirt. After applying a bit of make-up, you get all your things together and make your way to the subway. As you walk, you take a moment to appreciate the weather. There was a slight breeze, but still enough sun to prevent it from being too cold. Ever since the accident you were hesitant to use public transportation. You're a very practical person and know the likelihood of anything happening again anytime soon is fairly low. It still scares you, like a mild ptsd or something.

The ride was short and packed which helped take your mind of the ride itself. Once you get to the campus you enter the coffee shop that is adjacent to your classroom. You were grateful that you chose to get your homework earlier this week. It gave you time to browse the library before you had to be there. You weren't looking for anything in particular, just something to read in your pass time. You admired some of binding of the book, some were so used you couldn't even read the title while others looked like they'd never been opened.

"Ma'am I'm sorry but we don't allow food or drink in here," an older man with white hair, mustache and thick glasses informed you.

"Oh sorry, I'll be on my way," you said.

"Don't feel too bad, some of these books are so outdated, they could be improved by a coffee spill," he said with a thick New York accent.

Once you got to your classroom, there were about 15 students loitering outside the door. This told you that the teacher was late, you expected this of course. She was the type of teacher that would waste half the class talking about her kids or messy divorce. All the other students would talk trash about her if she left the room for any reason. You felt bad for her, teachers that always ranted about their personal life always struck you as lonely. Why else would they be ranting to their students about their problems? You move your straw around your cup before taking a sip. Mrs.Claski finally walks up the stairs towards the classroom. She was rambling about how she was 'so sorry' that she was late. Apparently she was at the vet with her cat, you didn't bother paying attention to all the little details explaining why. You take your seat and pull out your laptop, Claski had to leave to make copies of the assignment we were working on today. As she walked out, Peter walked in. You made eye contact, and it only reaffirmed that he was the guy from the subway.

He broke eye contact and made his way to a chair, the classroom was full at this point. Only one or two seats were open and of course both were in front of you. Luckily there were still those outdated hulky P.Cs on every desk which put a barrier between you and him. When you saw him, you immediately thought about the web you pulled from your fire escape. Like him being so close was putting you at risk of him finding out. Maybe that's why he looked so freaked out when he saw you at the apartment building. Because he recognized you from not only the train but the building as well. It's crazy because until everything that happened, you didn't even notice that he was in any of your classes. Now it was almost impossible to ignore. Like he had been hidden in plain sight this entire time, right under your nose. The teacher didn't end up coming back to class until there was only 15 minutes left. She apologized and let everyone go earlier, seeing that there was no way the class could get an assignment done at that time.

When you were on your way home, you knew that if he wasn't busy he would have to take the same train and walk to get there. Your anxiety was through the roof, and what was even more frustrating is you weren't really sure why. The tension between the two of you felt so thick, like it was wrapped around your throat and was tightened when you saw or thought about him. You gathered your stuff and made your way out of the classroom. You put your headphones in and started making your way back to the apartment. You had to stop at the store on your way home, your refrigerator looked like it belonged in a frat house. You decided on making pasta and ground beef, that way you could take some left-overs to Amarita. You Ubered home so you didn't half to carry your groceries from the store all the way back to your building. Once you got there, Peter was walking up to the building. You took a deep breath before entering the building. This was like a sick joke or something. Once you get to the top of the stairs you hand to pass him to get to your building. As you passed him, your bag got caught on the hand railing causing it to rip and send your groceries tumbling. As you began gathering all the food back up again, you looked up and saw Peter begin to help. You looked in his bag that he set on the floor and saw that all it had in it was frozen burritos and some Gatoraids. This made your heart sink and again without really thinking about why you opened your mouth.

"I- do you want to come over in an hour and have dinner? I'm making pasta and I bought way too much stuff," you said as he handed you a can of tomato sauce.

"Def- that- I would love too but are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, like I said, is an hour good?" you asked

"I'll be here, thank you," he said. You both walked to your doors and let yourselves into your apartments.

"What did I just start," you mumbled to yourself before starting dinner.

#spiderman #spiderman fluff #tom holland #tom holland spiderman #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman x reader

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ohbrightnewday · 2 months

Note

Janis and Damian headcanons?

Jumps up and down!!! Thank you!!!! < is thinking excessively about Janis and Damian

To note, I mix Barrett!Janis and Auli’i!Janis into a weird mix and Damian is whoever you want

Janis specific hcs:

• Autistic but doesn’t mask anymore, mostly out of spite. Also anger issues. And depression. And trauma.

• Go to coping mechanism is firstly punch a wall and regret it, then it’s do art.

• Her love language is physical touch. She loves to be physically close to people and just drapes herself over whoever’s closest.

• Speaks really good French but frequently doesn’t actually work in the class. She skips classes all the time because they’re just So Much.

• She gets headaches constantly. Whether it’s because she’s stressed of because she doesn’t drink water, that’s not something she’s willing to check.

• Her favourite food is burgers with everything on them.

• Janis’ mum dyes Janis’ hair whenever she’s having a really bad time. Janis struggles to do it herself, so it just becomes a Thing her mum does for her when she’s struggling and needs to change something. Her mum also taught her all the elaborate hair styles she does.

• Following from the above, in the movie musical specifically, I hc every cool hairstyle Cady had, Janis did for her.

Janis and Damian:

• Planned so much of their revenge at 3am on call with each other. Damian has a whiteboard in his room and they would just write the most batshit insane things they might do to get revenge and see what sticks in the morning. This is how they came up with calling Regina&Co “the plastics”.

• Have genuinely known each other forever.

Damian:

• Really good relationship with his mum, but not a very good relationship with his dad and doesn’t see him very often.

• Trans, came out mid-middle school and his mum was so supportive, absolute hype-woman when he chose his name.

• Gets super attached to people far too quickly and doesn’t really know how to deal with the rejection of when people don’t get the same level of attached back.

• Favourite food is pizza.

• Post-spring fling, ends up really good friends with Karen. They’ve always been sort to friends until Regina put a hard stop to it, but he just loves her vibes.

• He has ADHD!

I probably have more but this was getting so long but I am !!!!!! Also not to self promote but I have a Janis angst hurt/comfort fic on a03 [my a03 is Letalloursingingfollowhim] which has Janis and Damian!! Also sadness

#Yelling thank you!!!! I love asks #sorry if this is too long or that I focused on janis too much #many thoughts and feelings #mean girls

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writingfics-passingtime · 1 year

Note

Dandelions - Ruth B.

Peter Parker x reader

Thank you, @manyfandomsfanvergent 💜 This story came to me almost instantly. Hope you like it !!

Forever in Your Eyes

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Dandelions

Pairing: (AG) Peter Parker x reader (no pronouns used)

Words: ~1500

CWs: minor swearing, mentions of Gwen’s death, some kissing

Sunset light bathes the battered desks and vinyl floors of the art studio, discussions of weekend plans and new movies hums lowly through the room; Thursday night classes had that effect on everyone, but especially those with no classes on Friday.

Those like Peter Parker - who’d only made the Friday Class Mistake once so far in his college career. The young college student, and part time masked vigilante, slides into an empty plastic chair just as the tutor enters the room.

“Portraits!” The tutor, a vibrant bespectacled man named Robin, reminds everyone of the plan for the class as he takes attendance in his head. There were only about sixteen people in this time slot so it’s an easy task.

“Your assignment was to find some portraiture you really connected with, take it apart, make it your own, I don’t need to remind you guys,” he waves a hand as a shrug. “Let’s jump in so we can all get on with our weekend. Who wants to go first for crits?”

The girl sitting next to Peter, an eager beaver named Marie, puts her hand up to have her work picked apart. And so it begins.

Person after person shares their screen to the projector and explains why they chose their setting, the subject, the colouring, why it was edited the way it was. Peter ends up being last, and he’s feeling pretty good about the photos he’d taken of you.

He’d had to bribe you, of course. Because you hated being in front of a camera but not more than you loved a burger from that place just outside of town - the place near a secret patch of wildflowers that Peter wanted to capture you in.

He’d been careful to make sure the flowers treated carefully and with respect. Then, he’d done the same with his camera-shy best friend.

You’d needed a lot more reassurance than the flowers had.

“I’m doing a terrible job.”

“No, you’re doing great,” Peter encouraged as he peaked out from behind the lens. “Tilt your head a little to the left, just a- perfect.” He snapped a few more shots before seeing you subtly squirm and draw in an uncomfortable breath. He lowered the camera and caught you in a gentle, level stare. “Hey. Just look at me.”

“You’re not the problem,” you argued and crossed your arms over yourself, “It’s that thing in your hand.”

He grinned at you. “Don’t look at the thing in my hand.” He saw you take another shaky breath in before you met his eye with an intense vulnerability.

“Yeah,” his smile softened, he pointed and clicked as he kept your focus on him. “Just keep looking at me…”

The photos turned out great, and it’s his turn to have his work critiqued.

He clicks a few keys, types in the screen-sharing code, and your face fills the large screen at the front of the room.

It’s an objectively beautiful photo of you. The colours of the earth and the flowers bring out that sparkle in your eye that Peter’s come to know as the starlight that appears when you’re laughing, or thinking of something cheeky to say in response, when you’re truly at ease and happy where you are. Your expression says peace. The flowers around you bring out something wild in your soft smile. Your stare is just above the lens, fixed on Peter.

Before he can explain why he chose this field, why he chose his best friend, Robin makes a noise of approval and turns to the class.

“Okay guys, see now this is the advantage of doing portraits with a romantic partner- with someone you have a real connection with. See that depth in the subject’s eyes, and see where the eyes are fixed? On the photographer, right? Now, that’s something that can’t be faked.”

The sun had set. The room has darkened. But Peter is caught too off-guard to worry if anyone can see the way his cheeks were burning, or the way his drying mouth was hanging open. But you don’t feel the sa-

“The trick, Peter, is going to be figuring out how you can pull this from other subjects going forward,” Robin throws the words out so nonchalantly, painfully oblivious to the way his student’s head is spinning. “Now let’s take a look at the setting.”

The rest of the feedback is a ghost to Peter. It drifts by, vacant, untouchable, warping time and reality. All he can think of is you and that look in your eyes. How long had you looked at him like that without him noticing?

Or, more accurately, how long did he notice but not really know what it meant?

Needless to say, he broke land speed records sprinting out of the building the second class ended, and ripping his skateboard down the sidewalk towards your apartment just off-campus.

Oblivious to Peter’s crisis, you pick up a fork and make your way to the fuzzy blankets calling your name. Your roommates were out and it was the perfect night for Doordash and a marathon of that show you’d been wanting to see. You settle onto the couch, ready to press play, when you hear a frantic knock at your front door and Peter shouting your name through it.

“I know you’re in there!” He yells, still pounding. You lower your brow and practically vault over the couch trying to get to the door before he breaks it down with his fist.

“I’m coming! Jeez, Pete!” You yell back right before your fingers flip the deadbolt and you pull the door inwards. “What the hell’s the matter with y-”

“How long?” He demands, waging a glare so intense you suddenly feel like you’ve done something super wrong. Your mouth falls slack as Peter brushes past you to enter your apartment.

It takes you a moment to recover, to try and put together what the hell he was on about, and by the time you realise that he’s out of line coming in here with vague accusations, so you close the door and turn to face him, you’re met with the sight of his open laptop screen on your kitchen counter.

It’s a photo of you, from the wildflower fields. Something deep in you wants to internally cringe but… it looks real. Honest.

When you meet Peter’s eye, he looks the same way. Except there’s something desperate in his gaze.

“How long?” He repeated, breathless and wanting.

You open your mouth to respond and quickly realise you don’t know how to. Thankfully, Peter fills in the blanks.

“How long have you been in love with me?”

It’s a punch to the gut. That question. It sucks every bit of air from your lungs, from your throat, tears spring to your eyes and you don’t really know why. Maybe because it’s so out of left-field and you have no time for any other reaction. Maybe because of the despairing way he was looking at you, and you had no idea why he’d be doing this.

“Peter, please,” you choked out. It was useless to lie to him. “I’ve never expected anything more from you, I’m happy with-”

He takes a step forward. “How long?”

You cover your eyes with the heels of your palms and sniff in a cry. “I don’t know. A while, I guess.”

You feel him take another step towards you and you’re sure you’re done for. He’s going to step around you and walk out and never come back and-

“We’ve wasted so much time,” his gentle whisper comes. His touch comes too, weaving through your own, tugging your palms from your eyes just far enough for him to place his hands, cradling either side of your face.

You brave meeting his eye, and… peace.

Your shoulders release their tension, your jaw unclenches, your hands find rest around his wrists. In a feeble attempt to explain, you mumble, “I didn’t know if you were ready.”

The metaphysical mention of Gwen sends a bolt of grief through Peter’s heart. But it’s a grief he’s grown to greet like a friend; one that will always be with him, one that wants him to grow.

His thumb traces the warm blush on your cheekbones, wiping away a tear in the process. He didn’t do this right. He should’ve done this better but the pain and recognition and the want all melded into one and-

He stops overthinking and doesn’t waste any more time.

Peter ducks his head and kisses you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he already knows the contours of your skin, like he’s memorised the steady beckoning in your breath.

He’s a welcoming home. Under his hands, you find a refuge. When he steps into you, closing the space between your bodies, the heat of him is an all-encompassing embrace. You kiss him like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times before. It feels so right. The taste of forever is sweeter than any time you’d ever dreamed of it.

Because this time it’s real.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #andrew garfield peter x reader #tasm!peter parker fanfiction #tasm!peter x you #JJ’s mixtape #Peter Parker drabble #gender neutral imagine #peter parker x gender neutral reader #Peter Parker x you #no y/n #marvel x reader #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #marvel drabble

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pascalsbby · 8 months

Text

Just You / Joel Miller

I just wrote fluff (kinda). YEAH! ME! It’s really just for my own comfort but thought I’d share it anyways.

Warnings: Joel helps traumatized (mommy & daddy issues, best of both worlds bitches) neurodivergent reader not feel so bad about doing the small things that help her, like smoking a joint here n’ there. Ya know?

You filled up your water bottle and huffed at the ice tray, hating the way it’s burning your touch from lingering fingers. You can’t not have cold water for when your throat dries. Can’t have outside time without it. You had filled the tray up too far, again. Well this was again, again. You’d only used it a few times since Joel stumbled into the kitchen with it last week. “So your water’a be cold when you’re swingin’.” He presented it to you with his crooked grin.

Now, he was looking at you from the back of the couch. “Bring it ‘er baby. It’s been overfilled a little too much. But thats s’okay- now we both know.” It wasn’t a reprimand pointing to you, with a “you weren’t smart enough to know that? ice expands…?” tone. It was a suggestion, just something he happened to notice… something he wanted to help you with.

You were grateful that despite the really shitty past couple of months, he still didn’t shy away from recentering you- guiding you, more so. The facade of your trauma being ‘not that bad these things happen to everyone,” never really faded behind the memories, but in college it fell drastically. Not being to sit through a class in the lecture hall because (Mr.) Professor’s voice was echoing the walls of the lecture hall (your mind) too loudly. Getting out of the four walls of your bedroom forced a lot of realizations towards you. But it wasn’t until your mid-20’s that it just completely collapsed- watching other people’s father’s grow the fuck up (age) and apologize to them, their mothers, their little brothers- maybe sometimes you. But not you- you. Narcissism feels too good in his proud chest.

Mom went to therapy, so she thinks she’s done her part. She did, for herself. Sure. But they were never meant to save you, you knew that.

It wasn’t until you got to know Joel that you saw there were parents who tried to understand, and a safe (even if just inside their own four-walled house) environment really did make the difference. Sarah, for example. He was considerably older, stern, and gentle. He looked like he could take care of you- not just by the thickness of his arms and veined neck, but the width of his grasp upon you- around you, inside of you. You dirty thing, you, shhh.

You hadn’t been able to smoke in a couple weeks and it felt like it was catching up to you. Yeah, yeah, it sounds bad even while I stumble through this validation. But it helped and you were sick and fucking tired of pretending it wasn’t. Finally something was helping. You’d put it off in guilt for years until finally trying it and realizing that your thoughts quitely deduced themselves to leaving your own mind and joining the waves on the back of the singing cicadas. Or the sound of the night sky above your neighbors air-conditioner box. It was 106 degrees today. Don’t think about it too deeply. You begged of yourself, then thought how long you begged for someone to listen to you and magically solve the problem. A diagnosis feels good until it starts being ignored, again. And then the thought passed and that was all. Deep breathes, cool air rising from the ground.

You spent twenty-plus years stuck inside the shell of yourself, pulling on whatever mask needed to be worn. A lot of the time the plastic behind them stuck to each other and creaked like sharp rocks screeching against glass. You wore so many masks all the time. The shoulders of the character were always the same though; staunched upwards and perpetually flexed.

The breeze of wind feels like Texas summers against the back of your neck. The warmth of the breeze furthering the condensation below your eyes and above your cheeks. You’re not in Texas anymore- although sometimes it feels like it with him. These memories were happy. They feel like resurfacing-s of something, someone. You. Little you.

This was your diary, the swing on the back porch of y’alls house, halfway on the concrete and hallway into the world. Big Dipper to the right, always. Joel usually to the left, neck bent backwards laying against the swing as his long legs gently pushed off the warm and resting ground. He had one hand over his stomach, resting, the other pointing in front of both of your eyes towards whichever constellations he’s telling you stories about tonight. Poetry, him.

He noticed your hesitation, holding the water bottle to your chest and quickly drinking it instead of taking the joint out of it’s tube. The fact that something so calming to your psyche should make you feel so guilty? “You know you’re not in trouble, sweet thing. I can go inside if ya’wanna be alone.” He started getting up and you chuckled at him, lovingly.

“I know.”

Unspoken but perfectly clear. He settled back, put one of his fingers around the top of the container and popped it open, taking out the Barbie pink lighter you had hid in there a couple weeks ago, too. He handed it to you, watched your lips as you rested it between them and then the lighter flickered against his warm skin. You breathed in the fire and slowly exhaled all of the bullshit stuck inside of you back out into the world, off to dissipate before your eyes.

“You’re okay here, baby. I got ya, rest some,” he paused, his eyes meeting yours, making sure you’re paying attention to his words of care, “okay?” He nods.

“Okay.” You nod back. Not even followed by an ‘I’m sorry’ on your part. You didn’t have to be sorry around Joel. You just had to be you, and it turns out that she’s still in there somewhere, and she feels like she’s clawing her way out of you. Will be she 9 or 17? Probably anything but 25.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡

This is utterly and completely written for myself. I’m trying to write and get things out so they aren’t sitting in my chest, ya know? (I am so okay! Just growing ((that frontal lobe y’all, they weren’t kidding))). I’m really happy I feel like writing about it, it’s easier to conceptualize my feelings and recognize them as important and real when I write them like this.

It’s Apple Friter btw (flower strain). Hehe.

I did live in Texas for a long time. Sometimes I wonder if my Joel talking in a Texas accent sounds too much like Joel talking in an actual Texas accent/way and it looks obnoxious. Lol. But I’m thinkin’ of how all those old men talk, every time I write his voice HAHA.

Love you. And you. And I hope you sleep so well.

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itsscromp · 8 months

Text

Jaime Reyes/Blue beetle X reader platonic

Happy early birthday to me :), Have a blue beetle birthday fic on me. Word count: 1K

"Hmmmm"

"Jaime I don't understand how looking at plastic cases are going to help" Scarab spoke up

"Again scarab it's y/n's birthday tomorrow, I need to find them a gift" Jaime whispered.

It was your birthday tomorrow and Jaime was in the video game store trying to find you a birthday gift, and he needed to hurry.

"Immortals of aveum... Oh Final fantasy 16 ??"

"No Jaime that's what you like" Scarab interrupted

"Right right, ok I guess Immortals it is"

He picked the game, paid for it and went home, The Reyes's meanwhile were preparing a surprise party for you courtesy of Jaime.

"Mijo what took you so long ??" His mom spoke up as she pulled out the cake from the oven.

"Sorry, Mom, the... Bus was running late" He had to make an excuse for being gone for almost twenty minutes staring at a shelf.

"Jaime no le mientas a tu madre" (Jaime don't lie to your mother) his grandma spoke from the living room.

"Conozco a la abuela que conozco" (I know grandma I know)

Jaime immediately went to wrapping your gift while his dad set up some decorations.

"Jaime, is y/n spelt with a Y or an N ??"

"Hang on dad" Jaime got up and fixed the decoration for him.

"Aaah gotcha now"

Everything was coming together, the decorations set. The cake was baked, and the gift secured. Now all that was missing was a you. Jaime was so so excited to celebrate your birthday, his best friend deserved this day. But the annoying thing that happened that almost ruined it was silverback attacking the streets of El Paso.

"Happy birthday y/n !!!"

"Hey Jaime, thanks dude" The two then did their secret handshake.

"Oh before I forget, My abuela has made these kick-ass cookies, she's even made you some." Totally not lying about your surprise party.

"Oh awesome, we'll head to your after school then" You smiled as the bell rung with the two heading off to class.

3PM rang and the two were on their way to his, Jaime was getting more and more excited as the two ventured to his house.

"Oh man I can already taste the cookies dude"

"Oh you'll love them, she uses certain sugars and spices you can only find in Mexico"

"Must be expensive importing them."

"Don't worry about they, just once your tongue tastes the pastry..."

The two heard gun shots and an explosion just not far from where they were walking, Hearing their notifications ding. Y/n pulled out their phone and read and emergency alert.

"Anyone around the listed suburbs need to stay inside and not go out until the danger is clear"

As you read the suburbs, Jaime's was one of them, so he needed to clear the threat and fast.

"Ok just head on home y/n, I'll take care of this" He activated his blue beetle armor and flew off.

"Be safe Jaime" You said to yourself before heading back home.

"Scarab who are we dealing with ??"

"From what data I have collected, It looks like a cyborg gorilla by the name of silverback, Be careful Jaime it has an array of weapons."

"So do we" Jaime smirked under the mask as he found silverback, causing destruction across the streets.

Landing, He then readied a sword and shield.

"Hey, Big guy !!, the zoo's been looking for you"

Silverback turned around, seeing blue beetle. Roared and beat his chest, grabbing an LMG and firing at Jaime. Thank god for the shield. Once the LMG ran out of bullets, Jaime changed to an arm cannon and blasted silverback on the ground.

"Scarab what's its weakness ??"

Scarab scanned Silverback extensively, finding any source of weakness before he could get back up.

"Got it, Just keep distracting it long enough for the police to shoot a tranquillizer."

"Why didn't they do that from the start."

Jaime then continued to fight and dodge bullets, He needed to finish this fight, not only to make the streets safer again, but to get you to the surprise party. Then as Silverback was about to fire a bazooka at Jaime, It felt a sting in Its neck and slowly grew tired, swaying from side to side. it fell on the floor, He saw the dart in his neck.

"Ok well... crisis averted"

"The local authorities are on their way, you should get back home if you want to surprise y/n"

"I know scarab" He rolled his eyes and flew back home.

Meanwhile, back home you stayed inside with your dad until the danger was clear. Jaime sent you a text saying that the streets were clear and you could come over now.

"Dad I'm just going to go see Jaime, And yes I'll take the safe way I know."

"Just be back soon ok kiddo ??"

"Got it"

Heading over to the Reye's you wondered why it was a bit quiet, usually you could hear a record playing, strange. You knocked on the door once making it.

"Jaime ??, Mr or Mrs Reyes ??."

The door opened but no one was there to greet you, even more greet you. Even more strange, entering inside you noticed everything was dark. what was going on ??

"Jaime..."

Then the lights turned on and everyone shouted "SURPRISE !!" his dad blowing the party horn as Jaime popped streamers in your face.

"You got me their" You laughed, "Did you do all of this ??"

"Come on, you thought I wouldn't want to throw my best friend a surprise party." He smiled placing an arm around your shoulder pulling you close.

"Y/n hice esto para ti" (Y/n I did this for you) His abuela came up to you and handed a box of cookies. That part was true.

"Oh and of course your gift." Jaime then rushed to his room then came back out with the gift in hand, handing it to you.

"Jaime..." You smiled opening the gift, seeing the game you've always wanted. You smiled your brightest and hugged him tightly, Jaime returning the hug eagerly. "Your the best y/n, You really are"

Hearing that you hugged him a little tighter "Thanks buddy"

"Alright, who's ready for cake ??" His mom brought the cake out with the candles already lit. Everyone singing Happy Birthday, You couldn't stop smiling the whole time, Jaime and his family pulled this off, just for you. You were like another member to the family to them. Again, you couldn't have asked for a better best friend like Jaime.

Taglist: @callofdudes

#platonic #jaime reyes #blue beetle #jaime reyes x reader #blue beetle x reader #DC #my birthday #reader insert

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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hey congrats on your 5k!! i wanna request wildflowers (i didnt think that this classify as another, sorry if you think it does) of being in an escape room with spencer and in one room there's a jumpscare and reader got scared? also, i think that he would solve everything in no time lol so if you wanna include that it'll be a plus point :)

thank you and once again congrats!!

come visit my flower garden!!

thank you!! he would absolutely DOMINATE in an escape room oh my god i'd love to go with him

"Spencer," You peered cautiously at the closed curtains on the false door beside you, "Something just scratched the door."

"Y/N," He chuckled amusedly at you, turning from where he'd been sifting through loose documents scattered on the messy desk in the room, "It's not real. Whatever it is is just some cheap jumpscare. It's probably some animatronic arm that-"

Before Spencer could continue assuaging your fears, the door burst open, and a masked man charged you. The knife in his hand was very fake, clearly plastic and cheap, but your heart still leapt out of your chest, and you nearly tackled Spencer to the ground trying to get through the door behind him.

Your scream probably could have shattered the dingy class paneling in the door you ran through, Spencer grabbing as many papers as he could and rushing in behind you. He shut the door, pressing his back up against it with wide eyes, his chest heaving.

"Cheap jumpscare, huh?" You quipped, your hands on your thighs as you bent over, trying to catch your breath.

"Shut up," Spencer grumbled, "That was a distraction. Did you see the key tucked into his waistband? It's to the second door we found, the color matched the lock. We need to befriend him."

"Befriend him?!" You glared incredulously at Spencer, "You wanna befriend the maniac with a knife?"

"I mean, we could try to knock him out," Spencer mused, "But I don't think the other employees would be too happy about that."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one-shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid dialogue #spencer reid x reader fanfiction

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banjjakz · 4 months

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the grim reaper's wife; hananene oneshot

“...McDonald’s?”

Hanako smiles at her like she’s just told him a terrible joke.

“McDonald’s.”

(Or, in which Nene goes to college and meets the... janitor. Groundskeeper. Gardener? He works there. She thinks.)

wc: ~4k warnings: horror; graphic depictions of violence; serial killer!au; psychological thriller; emotional manipulation; major character death

🖤 read on ao3 🖤

Her lungs burn. Like running a marathon in the middle of winter. It hurts to breathe, it hurts so badly that she holds her breath and counts and waits and counts and waits and counts until the numbers melt away, along with her mind.

If, Nene thinks, she were to be anybody else right now other than herself, she would like to be the grim reaper’s wife. Then she wouldn’t have to drive herself dizzy with the held-breath business. What must it be like to exist so intimately with her own death? The idea excites her. When she can breathe again, she’ll remember to scribble it down on her Thought Wall.

“Hey. You’re doing it again.”

The sky knits itself back together. The clouds right themselves. The trees are next, sprouting up from the ground and defiantly raising dark, jagged limbs against the fluorescent inferno of the city’s setting sun.

And at the center of it all is him: pale and slim and dark in all the worst places. The mask from that foreign horror film she had to watch for her world cinema class. Ghostface.

“Hi,” Nene exhales, shuddering.

“Hey there.” Why is he smiling? She hates when he does that. She hates it so much that she holds her breath and counts and waits and counts and waits and counts until the ardor of her fury threatens to burn her alive.

The sight of him makes her want to shut her eyes against all else. She doesn’t. She bears the brunt of him, even as he grins and extends his hand. “Need some help?”

“No, thank you.”

“I’ll leave you here.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t. Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

He refuses to retract his hand. Something tells her it’ll never leave. She reaches out to take a hold of it, and ignores the way their skin slips and slides together with a disturbing familiarity.

“McDonald’s?” asks Nene, exhausted.

“McDonald’s,” answers Hanako.

He’s still smiling.

When Nene first arrives on campus, she is already exhausted. It’s hot. She’s in the heart of a metropolitan playground. She almost killed herself trying to wiggle her way into the lucky little sliver of 17% of all applicants that get to attend this bustling, elite microcosm of academic prestige. And now that she’s here, she mostly just wants to take a nap.

This goal would be easier to accomplish if she hadn’t already lost her keycard. You know -- the tiny, four-by-four piece of cheap plastic that acts as her means of entering literally any building on campus.

The breakdown isn’t quite yet at the point of boiling over, but it’s a very near thing. She can feel her internal temperature beginning to rise with each measured breath she struggles to control. It’s the first day, thinks Nene, the first day and I’ve already done something bad.

Move-in is stretched over the course of a four-day period. No more than 25% of a residential building’s populace is present at one time, at least not for today. Her building is at the southernmost corner of campus, a good twenty minute walk from any kind of support service. There is nobody around to let her in. She really wants to take a nap.

Suddenly overcome with a wave of frustration, Nene rams her fist thrice against the locked double doors. It is a testament to her self-control that she doesn’t shriek out in rage. It is an even larger one that she continues to breathe -- deeply, evenly -- through the upset coursing viscous and molten through her rigid, tremorous body.

“Wow.”

It takes her a moment to process that there is now a presence here, in this volatile space she’s created, that does not belong to her.

Woodenly, Nene turns around. fists balled tightly into muted remnants of her momentary lapse in judgement.

He stands there in a white T-shirt and jeans. Beat-up old trainers. A red windbreaker tied around his slim, wiry waist. Double knotted. The fabric is red and frayed at every conceivable edge.

“What’d he ever do to you?”

The joke falls flat, but the dark haired boy pays it no mind as he bustles around in his pockets, pulling out a large keyring. Quickly, assuredly, he swipes one of his many apparatuses against the black swatch of plexiglass beside the left door. A telltale click echoes in the otherwise heavy quietude. He hefts the door open and holds it for her by the handle.

“If you really wanted to fuck him up,” he continues, “you’d have gone for the jugular, or the solar plexus. A solid hammer strike would take any fella out of commission, even if he were as big as this nasty brute.”

“Do you live here?” asks Nene, dubiously.

He flashes an ID card with his free hand. “Maintenance.”

She scans the few characters she can catch before he shoves it away. “Yugi Amane.”

“Yes, Yashiro Nene?”

Every cell in her body goes cold and still all at once. She can’t even speak. The synapses in her brain are just beginning to fire again -- propelling her desperately towards flight flight flight -- before the strange boy nods at something on her chest.

Despite herself, she looks down.

At her new student name tag, pinned to the front of her shirt.

Sheepishly, she meets his eyes again, this time with a little less unguarded accusation in her gaze.

“Come on, give me a little credit,” says Amane, amicably. “If I were a creep that would have been a rookie mistake. Now you know too much. I gotta kill you. Game over.”

“I could take you,” she argues, against her better judgement.

“Really?”

“Sure.” She feels the lingering jitters from her initial wariness melt away into something gentler, something placed decidedly lower in her gut, something colder than fear, so cold that it threatens to brand the very core of her. “Wouldn’t be too hard. Jugular, solar plexus.”

“My oh my. I’d better be careful of you, then.”

“You do that,” Nene hums, gracefully sliding past, “Yugi-san.”

“Call me Amane.”

He doesn’t move from his spot amidst the doorframe, one hand gripping easily onto the slab of steel, the other waving in the air, bidding her adieu. He doesn’t move even as Nene makes her way into the elevator. He doesn’t move even as Nene raises her own hand in farewell. He doesn’t move even as their field of vision is severed and Nene rises up, up, up and away.

It’s absurd, she knows, but she can’t help picturing the image of his thin, wiry, bobbleheaded self, rooted to the spot, holding open the door, waving at nothing, frozen still and solid well into the night.

And in this fantasy, his grin never falters.

The Thought Wall is an entire stretch of plain, white drywall that she’s cleared off in her single suite room and dedicated to thousands of post-it notes.

Not all of the stickies are significant. Some are grocery lists. Some are doctor’s appointment reminders. Others detail traipsing, loosely connected plot points narrated by fragments of her mundane schedule: Lunch is with Aoi @ 12:30 p.m. Meeting is with Professor Tsuchigomori @ 4:00 p.m.

They are all the same color, and they all fall into neatly gridded lines across the expanse of her wall. If she wanted to, Nene would be able to catalogue each and every individual experience dating back to the day she moved into the dorms -- which, to be fair, was only a mere two weeks away from where she currently reflects, but retrospect tends to cloud her view with a hazy, dissociative glaze.

Amongst all of the transient variables of her newfound independent, adult life, there is one constant:

Amane takes out the trash at 9:00 p.m.

The bins are right underneath her second-story window. If she parts her blinds just so, she’s able to catch a glimpse of that familiarly sparse frame lugging gargantuan black bags that dwarf him near comically in size. The noise of him struggling through the task would wake her, if she were one to sleep early and well.

Amane takes out the trash at 9:00 p.m.

Come to think of it, Nene doesn’t think she’s seen him wear the university’s trademark navy jumpsuit reserved for custodial staff. It’s always those same jeans; that same iridescently bright shirt; that same frayed, crimson jacket, double-knotted around his waist. Falling apart at the seams.

Amane takes out the trash at 9:00 p.m.

Tonight he is whistling. She doesn’t recognize the tune.

Amane takes out the trash at 9:00 p.m.

Tonight the moon is full. Autumn swiftly approaches. She wonders if he ever gets cold, out there, alone. In darkness.

Amane takes out the trash at 9:00 p.m.

She wonders where the custodial staff live on campus. Is it close to her building? Is that why he’s always lurking around on the grounds?

Amane takes out the trash at 9:00 p.m.

She saw him today, with a bucket and a mop outside of her lecture hall. He winked at her, and raised a finger up to his lips. As if there was anything to say.

Amane takes out the trash at 9:00 p.m.

Where is his jacket?

At first, Nene thinks he’s cut off the sleeves in some bizarre, avant-garde fashion statement. And then she realizes that it is his t-shirt he wears -- the one that’s supposed to be white, but is now dyed a horrifically deep shade of carmine. The entire garment is soaked through with it, oversaturated to the point of streaking down his lean, pale arms in red rivulets.

What meagre light filters down from the street lamp above highlights the pop of color bright against his usually washed-out palette. He is wraithlike. He is gorgeous. He is hefting a black bag into the dumpster with frighteningly considerable ease.

He is meeting her gaze through where she peeks between two blinds.

He is smiling.

He is red there, too.

Amane takes out the trash at 9:00 p.m.

“Campus should be shut down. I mean, this is just ridiculous.”

“What is?” Prompts Nene, sidling down into her usual seat beside the other girl. Aoi blots the lipstick so violently onto her thin, pouting lips it’s almost as though her intention is to bring forth a fresher, brighter burst of ruby. The image makes Nene shudder.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about the bathroom stall.”

“I can’t say I have.”

A pause. The lipstick slides shut and away, for now. Nene breathes a silent sigh of relief. “Nene, I don’t know whether to weep or scold you. Anyways. You really haven’t heard anything? Nothing at all?”

Nene shakes her head.

“Well, in the girl’s bathroom on this hall -- this hall! -- someone was…”

Before Aoi has the chance to finish her sentence, Professor Tsuchigomori interjects from the pit of the amphitheater, announcing the beginning of class. His voice, too, is stretched thin in the same way that Aoi’s is, as she hisses under her breath in consternation.

“A girl was murdered,” she whispers, heatedly. “And we’re having class the next week like the crime scene tape hasn’t just been removed. It’s horrible. The girl who did it-- perpetrator, whatever -- even signed her name. Hanako-san. Like, what is this, some sadistic role-play fantasy?”

“Miss Akane. Is there something you feel compelled to add to today’s lecture?”

“No, sir.”

“Alright then.”

“When,” murmurs Nene after a moment has passed.

“Two days ago, Saturday. At night, too. Right before all the buildings lock at nine. Makes you wonder who could’ve gotten away with it, at that time.”

And wonder Nene does.

“Hanako-kun,” she greets him, which is her first mistake.

She beat him out to the bins tonight. Instead of observing from the relative safety of her bedroom, Nene elected to stand out in the mid-October cold and wait for thirty minutes, with thinly-veiled anticipation that made her toes twitch and shiver with more than just the chill in the air.

He doesn’t expect her to be standing there. He certainly doesn’t expect her to say that name, but he manages it well. “Yashiro Nene,” he chirps, hefting one large black bag up and over his shoulder.

“Are you gonna kill me now?” She asks, which is her second mistake.

Laughter. He’s -- laughing, possibly for the first time Nene can remember after all the weeks she’s spent observing him. Quietly. Studiously. Obsessively, if she’s being honest with herself.

There is just something so illustrious about the darkness that clings to his alabaster skin like a magnetic field of sin and dread and enticing ambiguity. He is bright, but there are shadows that tuck themselves away into the hollow of his cheekbones, the crook of his lethal elbows, the depressions beneath his abrasive, beady eyes; he is slim, but there is an unannounced strength that emerges when he slinks out beneath the moon every night to fill the dumpster; he is dangerous, Nene knows he is dangerous. And yet, still she is drawn like a moth to flame.

“I know too much,” she continues, “You’ve got no choice. It’s game over.”

His back is to her. Something about the absence of his ever-present grin sets her on edge.

“There’s worse things than death.”

“Like what?” She prompts, which is the final nail in the coffin.

Hanako turns around, then. The straggly lighting of the street lamp does little to properly illuminate his features, but Nene thinks that there is nothing that could obstruct this view from being permanently etched into her memory. He’s a basket case, hands coated in red, his teeth a stark strip of grim white amidst the impenetrable inky black of the city limits. Nene feels nauseous. Her feet move on their own accord, drawing her closer, impossibly close. Close enough to smell, to touch.

To burn.

“I can’t wait to show you, Yashiro,” says Hanako, mouth wide, eyes bright.

Foresight is not one of Nene’s strong suits. Neither is thinking in retrospect. Seemingly the only kind of self-preserving thought Nene has mastered the art of is fight or flight, and even that survival instinct fails her at some notably terrible times.

If she were a better person, she wouldn’t have ignored the red flags. No, that’s not quite right. She didn’t ignore them. She was excited by them; charged headlong straight through them like a bull incensed with bloodlust, throwing herself straight into the impending gore.

If she were a smarter person, Nene would have figured a way out of the spider’s web into which she’d so foolishly fallen. She would have escaped before it got too serious, too scary, with consequences all too material. She would have clawed her way back to the mundanity of her former life. She would have lived to tell the tale. Or, at least, this is what she likes to believe. It helps her sleep at night.

If she were perhaps anyone other than who she is, Nene might have done better.

Unfortunately for her, she’s stuck with her own fate.

This is how she finds herself on a double date at McDonald’s. An empty, grimy, liminal McDonald’s.

At eight-thirty in the evening. On a Saturday.

“That’s so funny, Yugi-san,” hums Aoi into her medium seltzer water with lemon (ordered at the counter of this decrepit, run-down, understaffed McDonald’s. Really. She’s a wonder.) “I didn’t know you went to our school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, before? What program are you in?”

“Business and finance. And please, Amane is more than fine. No need for formalities. A friend of Yashiro’s is a friend of mine, yeah?”

Akane raises his double-patty in solidarity. “Hear, hear! Y’know, I quite like this guy, Yashiro. Where’d you dig him up at?”

“The dumpsters behind my building,” Nene answers truthfully.

The raucous laughter that rounds the table is undercut by a sharp pang of discomfort in Nene’s gut as she catches Hanko’s eye; for a moment, they are the only two in this restaurant, in this city, in this country, in this world, and the way he holds her gaze captive in a merciless chokehold lets Nene know that if he could keep it this way -- just them, forever, suspended in an indefinite, impenetrable solitude -- he would.

Give to me what you love the most, he’d told her last night at nine p.m, and I’ll return the favor.

So. They’re on a double date with Nene’s best friend and her best friend’s boyfriend. It’s rapidly nearing her own personal witching hour. It’s a Saturday.

She recognizes the irony inherent in one’s last meal being soggy fries and a limp bun from a McDonald’s straddling the edge of the city limits, no help, no contact, no hope in sight. Just one long strip of highway to the east and an extreme abundance of shadowy, secretive forestry an innocuous ways away.

“Nene-chan? You there?”

Blinking back into focus, Nene meets Aoi’s eyes. Her kind, gentle, sweet eyes.

“I’m here,” says Nene. “I’m right here.”

It’s hard to believe that, though, as the conversation ebbs and flows around her and all she can do is soak it up and let it leave her like a grimy, worn out sponge. She feels old. She feels tired. She feels more alive than she ever has in her whole life and the evening has barely started.

“Good.”

Aoi reaches across the table and risks her dainty elbows against the greasy surface, all just to grab Nene’s hands in her own smaller, paler, softer ones, and squeeze. “I’m glad.”

There is little else Nene can bring herself to do other than nod jerkily.

TO: XX Univeristy Class of 20XX, 20XX, 20XX, 20XX, VP XX, Shinjuku Police Department

Subject: Regarding The Bathroom Stall Incidents

Good Afternoon,

There has been much speculation and rumor spread amongst the student populace as of late. We’re sure you all are looking for real, conclusive answers.

Our administration writes today under the express permission of the Shinjuku Police Department to confirm the discovery of two bodies in the third floor bathroom of the Arts Center for Creative Development. This is the second instance of homicide on school grounds in what has now been confirmed to be a slew of serial murders, marked by the signature ‘Hanako-San of the Toilet.’

In light of recent events, all students and faculty are to adhere to the new curfew implemented Sunday morning, effective 8:00 p.m. tonight. The Arts Center for Creative Development has been shut down until further notice. Anyone caught trespassing will be subjected to a fine and potential lawful investigation.Class re-assignments will be posted on campus portal later today.

On behalf of the families of the victims, we ask that students refrain from circulating the names of the victims. Until legitimate identities can be confirmed by the police, neither the University nor any other unaffiliated party may comment conclusively on the identities of the victims at this time.

Stay safe, stay vigilant, and care for one another amidst this tumultuous period of fear and uncertainty.

Thank you.

XX UNIVERSITY

“You hungry?”

Nene remains silent. Squeezes her eyes even more tightly shut.

“Because it’s been a while for me. I’m hungry. I’m starving.”

Curls her fingers into the comforter. Sinks into her mattress. Pretends she isn’t there, not really. This isn’t her life. It can’t be. It’s not. It’s not.

“It’s been McDonad’s these past few times, but we could switch it up, if you’re bored. You just say the word, Yashiro, and we can go anywhere. Anywhere you want. Pizza, Chinese, American, Traditional--”

Holds her breath and counts and waits and counts and waits and counts.

“Korean--”

And waits.

“--Mexican--”

And counts.

“--Italian--”

And--

“God,” Nene bursts out, shooting up from her corpse’s lay on her bed. “We just ate this weekend. It’s been three days, you can’t possibly be hungry again. Don’t you ever get full? Are you not satisfied?”

Hanako hates sitting in chairs. The only time he does so is when they go out to eat; and even then, he’s fidgeting the entire meal. With cagey, restless energy. Today he’s twisted pretzel-like on top of her work desk, one arm leant for balance against her lamp as the other fiddles idly with a pen and a sticky note. “Satisfaction is the furthest thing from why humans eat. Survival. Baser Instincts. Satiation, more like.”

“Okay,” she bargains, “well, I’m done. I’m full. I’ve had enough, Amane. Really.”

“Really-really?” He huffs out, amused.

“Really- really. I’m not hungry. I don’t think I can ever eat again in my life. So please, can we just--”

“But you were the one who killed her. Or don’t you remember?”

How couldn’t I, screams Nene’s stilled posture, her held breath, her glassy eyes.

“You held the knife.” He is smiling. How can he smile and say disgusting things such as these? It’s almost impossible to believe. Nene wouldn’t be able to wrap her head around the juxtaposition had she not already bore witness to Hanako’s grin present in much darker, much more twisted deeds than simply telling the horrible truth.

“You stabbed her. In fact, you wanted to go first. And right before you took the plunge -- right before, just right before, remember, Yashiro? -- what did you say?”

That wretched, awful night comes flooding back into the forefront of her mind regardless of how hard she tries to suppress it. Sharp flashes of images awash in murky technicolor, stained a muted burgundy by her subconscious’s feeble attempts at guarding her sanity; Aoi’s long, slender legs quivering in fear from where they were bound together at her pretty, petite ankles; her grey face stripped of its normal flush by a slab of crudely-torn duct-tape; her luscious amethyst curls scattered around her quaking shoulders; and her eyes.

Those eyes. The same eyes that twinkled at her, not just an hour before the tragedy, which then begged -- pleaded -- for a second chance. A last chance. Any chance at all.

“I’m hungry,” whispers Yashiro.

“Louder.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Did you mean it? Do you mean it?”

“I’m hungry!”

“Are you? Can you feel the craving? Does your stomach ache with it, Yashiro?”

“I’m hungry! I’m hungry! I’m hungry!”

“Exactly right. You’re just like me. We’re no different. We’re the same.” Hanako unfolds himself to hop off of the desk and approach the bed. She remains still as a statue, even as he touches her at her jugular, her solar plexus. A light, fleeting, feathery caress. “The same here, and here. And here, too,” a touch at her lips, then. He tastes chemical. Sterile. She fights the urge to lap at the pads of his fingers, and then forgets why she’s ever resisted in the first place. When it was so inevitable to fall into him, into Amane, into Hanako, into the strange abyss that lay between the two.

When he pulls away, it feels all too soon. Hanako slips something from his pocket and sticks it in the next free space on the Thought Wall:

Lunch is with Hanako @ 6:qkjewkn right now.

“Come on,” he beckons her. “Date night.”

“Double date?”

“Double date.”

“...McDonald’s?”

Hanako smiles at her like she’s just told him a terrible joke.

“McDonald’s.”

Maybe he was right, in the end. Maybe they were just alike.

Maybe Yashiro is just as bad as he was, or no better. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?

When she asks the bathroom stall, she receives no reply. Not even when she calls his name three times -- Hanako, Hanako, Hanako! -- echoing and staccato and cacophonous and desperate and tragic in the worst of ways. He doesn’t answer not even when she shakes him, not even when the knife slips from her grasp and into the sea of blood that pools around her ankles, tepid and viscous, as though she’s wading through the world of the undead.

What facts Nene knows definitely are these:

She is hungry. She will never not be hungry, now that she’s learned what an appetite she possesses.

The name on the bathroom stall is hers to keep.

And,

The jugular was easier to hit, in the end.

All she needed was a solid hammer strike.

#hananene ao3 #hananene #hananene fic #hanako x nene #hanako x yashiro #amane yugi x yashiro nene #amanene #jshk #tbhk #jshk ao3 #tbhk ao3 #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk fic #tbhk fic #my writing

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