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a-kaash-me-outside · 2 months

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˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

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prettyniji · 2 years

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authors note: aaa my first post !!!! hello i am maia and i love silly vtubers so i decided to write for them ! feel free to request anything anytime ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა also im too lazy to learn the html stuff so my post doesn’t look as fancy (╥﹏╥) and i wrote this all on my pc so i hope it doesnt look silly on mobile ......

all writing is mine and mine only !! no reposting ,,, this isnt proofread very well sorry for any mistakes hehe

characters: vox akuma; mysta rias; ike eveland; luca kaneshiro; shu yamino; shxtou

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ luxiem + shoto needy for attention ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ʚɞ vox akuma ʚɞ

i can’t decide if vox would be stubborn about wanting your attention or he would just annoy you till you give him what he wants ....

he would definitely either ominously stare at your from across the room until u ask him what’s wrong, or he would contantly poke your cheeks until you look him in the eyes, in which he then just give you the biggest, cheekiest smile you’ve ever seen he’d be like (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

if you were sitting on the bed on your phone and he had just finished up a stream or playing a game, he would definitely do that cliche thing where he just sighs over and over again until you sigh yourself, look over at ur needy boyfriend and reluctantly ask him what’s wrong.

he would only sigh again and tell you how his partner is paying more attention to their phone than him !! despicable right ? :((( how dare they !

OR ! if he’s feeling extra pouty and stubborn he would try to do anything possible to put aside his neediness, playing games with shoto, tweeting weird 5head tweets, but eventually he would get impatient (with a decision he made...) and flop beside you on the bed and lay his head on your lap

he’d grab your hand and force it towards his head, forcing you to play with your boyfriends long hair and fall asleep as you braid his hair, making him realise it would be a lot easier if he just asked for attention hehe (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

more under the cut !!

ʚɞ mysta rias ʚɞ

the fox-like detective would be another one to refuse to ask for your attention, but unlike mr voice demon he’s not stubborn, he just wouldn’t want to bother you :((

even if you weren’t doing anything in particular, mysta would still not really want to bother you, so you would have to be the one to approach him. it wouldn’t be hard to notice when mysta’s feeling needy, as he spends a lot of time staring at you, and instantly looking away when you make eye contact with him. he also sits next to you with a sligh gap in between you, fidgeting with his hands trying to form a million plans in his head trying to find ways to make you give him some attention (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

when you eventually notice his nervousness and neediness, doing any simple thing such as grabbing his hand or pulling his head to lie on your shoulder, will make him let out a sigh and mutter a “thank you”

pls treat him right and give him the attention he needs 24/7 he deserves it (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡

ʚɞ ike eveland ʚɞ

i can imagine ike being slightly open about being needy for your attention, however he wouldn’t outrightly say it. he would find ways to constantly touch you, such as sitting closer to you than normal and laying your head on his lap as he reads.

ike will have just finished up a long drinking stream, the alcohol in his system making him feel extra warm and cutesy, wanting to be held in your arms (୨୧ ❛ᴗ❛)✧

he would stumble his way towards your shared room to find you lying in bed, and he could already envision cosying up next to you and feeling warm and fuzzy from your undivided attention.

however, unfortunately for the poor novelist, whatever you were looking at on your phone (he was too jealous to look..) was slightly more important than your tipsy boyfriend. \(๑•́o•̀๑)/

ike, now glaring holes into your poor phone, laid his head on your shoulder, his cheeks warm to the touch, and buried his head into the crook of your neck

if that wasn’t enough to grab your full attention, what else was he supposed to do rather than grab your phone and aggressively sit it somewhere behind him on the bed (he didn’t care where, as long as he got your hand in his hair hehe)

the second you let out a laugh and wrap your arm around your slighly dizzy tipsy boyfriend, you feel him sigh against your neck and plant a small kiss against you (୨୧ᵕ̤ᴗᵕ̤)

peace at last for the drunk novelist !!!

ʚɞ luca kaneshiro ʚɞ

our big mafia boss is just about the biggest cuddle bug around around would not be afraid to jump into your arms whenever he feels he hasn’t had enough attention from you ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡

if you were slighly busy with work on a laptop or something, he would lather himself all over you like a koala and whine about how much he wishes he was your laptop in his next life so he could lie on your lap peacefully.

he’d bury his head in your neck so far you could smell his shampoo, and place kisses all over your neck trying his hardest to tickle you to make you give him the tiniest sliver of attention

big scary mafia boss would wrap his arms around you and slowly close your laptop like a cat that’s hoping you don’t notice him (very obviously) dramatically closing your laptop —ฅ/ᐠ. ̫ .ᐟ\ฅ —

when you snuggle into his hair asking what’s gotten him so cuddly, he simply whines “babyyyyy you haven’t paid me any attention to me on my day off!! if it’s my day off that means it’s your day off too” /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

and if you somehow resist the cute mafia boss you must have all the strength in the world to turn down his puppy dog eyes .... because i wouldn’t be able to i’d jump to give him all the attention in the world hehe

ʚɞ shu yamino ʚɞ

the cutest sorcerer in the world would probably start feeling needy after playing games on stream for a while, but he’s not the type to end stream because of his neediness. why would he when he can just make you come to him? ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

shu knew you were doing your own work in a different room so he’d text you to bring all your stuff into his room, not replying when you ask why

when you quietly enter his room hearing him talk to his chat, you see a space next to his desk that’s been obviously cleared to fit all of your work, and a chair sat next to his.

smiling like a dummy at your boyfriend clearing his desk mid stream just so you can sit next to him, you sit and immediately see him judge how far your chair is from his, and pull you closer to him.

STILL smiling like a dummy your try your hardest to go back to your work but cant find the ability to focus when your boyfriend woke up today and decided to be the cutest man on earth, his hand tracing random shapes on your thigh and his shoulder touching yours.

as soon as shu finishes up his stream you decide you can spare some time to give attention to the most cat-like sorcerer in the world, who immediately turns to you and gives you the brightest smile you need to look away before you go blind ପ૮๑ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ๑ აଓ

“are you almost done love? do you wanna watch some movies when you’re free?” and it’s impossible to say no to your boyfriend who looks like hes about to jump out his seat the second you say yes <3

ʚɞ shoto ʚɞ

this boy is the human reincarnation of a puppy,so when he’s needy you can count on the fact he will follow you around everywhere you go, asking “where are you going baby?” everytime you so much as lift a finger to go get food or leave the room at all !

your boyfriend would practically have his hypothetical tail wagging back and forth the second you even look at him ૮⍝• ᴥ •⍝ა

he would chat your ear off talking about anything and everything, slowly inching closer and closer to you until he’s sitting in your lap, arms wrapped around your neck, kissing all over your face and grabbing your hands to put them around him.

shoto would kiss every part of your body he could reach, talking about how much he misses you and bargaining anything to make you pay attention to him, even though he doesnt need to bargain anything since who wouldn’t pay attention to the cutest boy ever ??

your hyper boyfriend would lay his entire body on you and invite you to play games with him or watch any anime he can think of, telling you that you should take a break after working for so long, even if you are simply working on a hobby rather than work stuffs ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

as soon as you close your laptop and pat his legs to get him off you, he gets up and grabs your hand, dragging you to bed to watch all your favourites as you cuddle him like a big teddy ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ

thank you for reading !! have a good day ♡〜٩( ˃▿˂ )۶〜♡

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hwapetals · 3 months

Text

impulsive thoughts

pairing - best friend!yunho x reader genre - fluff warning(s) - drinking (i dont drink so im not sure how drunk people act ngl), swearing, vague hint that yunho and reader like each other??? idk i wrote this weirdly summary - after a drinking session, you and yunho end up walking in the rain together. author's note - was thinking abt yunho in the crazy form mv and decided to write something cute???? also not proofread.. erm.. word count - 1501 words

oh, dear, you just knew your liver and head was going to hate you the next day.

you had agreed to go out with yunho, your best friend, to drink because why not? it was always guaranteed to be a good way to spend time with the one person you liked the most.

yunho clinked his full glass of beer with yours, chugging at least half of it in one go. you decided to take your time, sipping on the beer. you both were already pretty tipsy, leaning against each other in front of the bar.

"we should go soon, the bartender is looking at us weird," you whispered to yunho, who turned to look at said bartender.

"you're right," he mumbled back, not very inconspiciously but it's not like the bartender could have heard your little conversation anyways. "but, one more drink."

one more drink eventually turned to three, but after several more dirty looks, you just decided to leave anyways. it was a bit disorientating in a way to get off the chair, your body twisting oddly to step onto the ground.

on the contrary, yunho seemed to have no problem, probably because his feet were already on the ground anyways. yunho was visibly tipsy, not because he was tripping but because his face was an extremely bright shade of red.

yunho took the lead, guiding you to the entrance. you kept on bumping into tables, apologizing to nothing in particular. yunho had to hold back his laughter, finding it the funniest thing ever in his drunk state.

when he opened the door, you were met with the sight of a lot of stairs (exaggerated), going downwards in a spiral arrangement.

"careful," yunho mumbled, holding the small of your back lightly as you stumbled, stepping down the stairs that lead down to the hidden entrance of the bar, literally almost falling off, although there was a railing at the side.

the familiar noise of raindrops hitting against glass and metal could be heard from inside, and it sounded unrelenting.

"did you bring an umbrella?" yunho asked, his words slightly slurred as you clung onto him, carefully stepping down the stairs (you kind of didnt want to stumble again) as your vision blurred from being intoxicated. you shook your head roughly, regretting it as it made you a little nauseous.

all yunho could do was sigh, because he had also forgotten to bring an umbrella. he opened his mouth, before closing it again, not knowing what to say.

"in my defense," you hiccuped softly, pointing to the ground. "the weather app said it wouldn't rain! it lied."

yunho chuckled at your childish reaction, squeezing your side lightly. it wasn't like he was gonna scold you anyways, you were too precious to him. if it were anyone else, he would've probably said something.

"looks like we need to walk back to mine while it rains, since it's a lot closer by," yunho replied, letting go of you to open the door at the bottom of the stairwell, stepping out under the shade as he held the door open.

when you stepped out, he moved over to the edge of the covered area, holding out his hand. yunho winced slightly, furrowing his eyebrows together as he felt how heavy the rain was.

"what's wrong?" you asked, moving over to him, looking up at him with a curious stare. "you look angry."

"no, no, i'm not angry. just worried," yunho quickly responded, almost in a defensive manner. "i don't want you getting sick, you know."

"oh, really? i haven't gotten sick in a while," you lied in a joking way, holding onto his arm. "cmon, it'll be fun to walk in the rain!"

yunho quickly gave in, knowing that you were right, and proving the theory that he would do anything you asked. he just liked you that much.

in about a minute or so, the both of you were already partially drenched from the rain, stepping through the dark alleyway. the only thing illuminating the area was some old looking streetlamps, mounted on the brick walls at constant intervals.

your body shivered slightly from the cold, but you seemed happy, kind of skipping as you and yunho's arms were hooked together.

"tonight's nice, isn't it? i really like rain," you rambled slightly, looking up at the moon. the rain was starting to sober you up, but not much. yunho laughed, nodding in agreement.

"it really is nice, rain is always so calming. until it starts hailing," yunho joked, a soft laugh bubbling out of your throat in response. "seriously! i got hit on the head once, i think there was a bump for at least three days."

"no wonder you wore a hat so often then, you looked like a soccer mom," you teased, poking his head. yunho scoffed, sputtering softly before poking your head back, deciding to be more annoying by poking your head several times.

"stop," you whined, slapping his hand away as he laughed at you, saying a half-hearted apology. "you're such an asshole."

"i know, but you love it," yunho poked your nose, you scrunching it up and complaining. it always brightened his day, seeing your reactions to his teasing.

"you're delusional," you groaned, leaning against him, a random sharp pain hitting you in the head. "ugh, i feel like, not drunk and drunk at the same time. my head just hurts randomly, but i still want to drink. maybe we should have left later."

yunho quietly pressed his index and middle finger against your temple, letting you lean against him as he applied some pressure.

"it's fine, we can drink more when we get back. we're close by anyways," yunho reassured you, but he probably wasn't going to let you drink more.

"you better, my tongue is practically begging for the taste of beer," you pulled away, the massaging of your temple making you feel better but it was starting to feel uncomfortable.

you walked near to the road, looking down at the puddles from the rain. you had an unexplainable urge to step into it, and so, you did. the water splashed onto your shoes and the bottom of your jeans.

to yunho, it also looked kind of fun. he felt as if he was supposed to be the more responsible of the two of you, but, man, it was tempting. he stopped abruptly, letting go of your hand and just jumped into the puddle, splashing water all over the place.

you squeaked, jumping back before stepping closer to join him. it was a very questionable sight, two young adults giggling like children as they jumped into a puddle, soaking their clothes even more. but to the both of you, it didn't really matter, it felt so fun.

after a little while, the both of you came to your senses, still giggling. if your socks weren't sopping wet yet, now it was.

wordlessly, the both of you got back onto the sidewalk, shuffling uncomfortably, but still deliriously happy.

"we should do that every time it rains," you suggested. yunho nodded furiously, knowing that mostly likely, this would probably happen again. "but, ew, i hate the feeling of wet socks."

"so do i, and now we've got dirt all over us," yunho also complained. the moment you made eye contact with him, made the both of you start to laugh once again, finding the whole situation just ridiculous.

yunho continued to lead you back to his home, holding onto your hand tightly as you engaged in small talk with him. honestly, you would have liked to talk and do more dumb shit with him, but you were definitely getting drowsy, and so was he.

when you arrived at his doorstep, he stuck his hand into his pocket, trying to find his keys, the wet fabric clinging to his skin tightly. he fished his keys out, before shaking his head almost like a dog trying to dry off, water flicking onto you and the wall.

you flinched, before slapping his arm, a cheeky grin on yunho's lips. of course, he did it on purpose to annoy you.

"make sure to take off your shoes, i'll cry if you get muddy footsteps in my apartment," yunho chided, pushing the key into the keyhole and twisting, the lock unlocking with a satisfying click.

"yeah, yeah, i got it," you brushed his words off, stepping on the heels of your shoes to get your foot out, messily kicking the shoes aside as you went into his home, yunho following after you with a squeak of his socks against the floor.

"fuck, i'm exhausted," yunho grumbled, a few hiccups escaping him as he slumped over, slouching slightly.

"so am i," you replied, feeling a little odd out of the blue, before you sneezed, burying your face into your elbow.

you had a nagging feeling that you would get sick the next day, but that was a problem for you (and yunho) tomorrow.

author's note (part 2) - i kinda hate how i wrote this so i may??? try to edit this in the future but its time for a nap (it's 3 am as of when i'm posting this) i hope u enjoy it although its kinda ass :3

#yunho x reader #ateez yunho #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #yunho fluff #yunho fics #ateez x reader #yunho imagines #ateez jeong yunho #jia writes #this is so ass help me

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11x13kyle · 4 months

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christmas time is so weird for kyle in the first few years of being in a relationship with stan. he never really gets used to the way that on the day of the macy’s thanksgiving day parade stan starts getting messages from various family members with merry christmas ecards and voicemails about him being a very special boy. kyle jokes about how it’s a little early and stan looks at him in confusion, like he can’t even fathom why kyle would think this. they go to stan’s house the day before christmas eve and they’re woken up at like 8 am to start doing festivities and kyle is like “????im sorry. i was under the impression that this was a DINNER???” and stan is like “hahaha you’re so cute dude! it’s. it’s not just that, no.” and all of this he can semi-deal with until after the dinner of really dry, overcooked ham and floppy asparagus that have been boiled to death are followed up by dessert which is a fruitcake that is hard as a ROCK and tastes like absolute nothing with a hint of cough syrup. randy makes a joke about how lucky they are to have 3 fruitcakes at christmas this year, and sharon gets so mad at him and starts apologizing profusely to kyle. when they go to church for mass kyle is like “um. yeah. i’m not doing that.” and randy is like “uhhh oooookay buzzkill!” and stan is really sad that he doesn’t join but kyle is actually perfectly content to have like 2 hours to himself to sit on the couch and drink white wine in silence with a shitty christmas movie playing on tv that is full of outrageously outdated and offensive ethnic stereotypes but he’s too tipsy and tired to bring himself to change the channel.

#are catholic christmas services 2 hours???? if they aren’t please ignore it and just play in this space with me

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olderthannetfic · 7 months

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Does anyone feel like a lot of people in fandom are…. weird babies about alcohol? Like there are a lot of people who don't seem to understand that there are degrees of intoxication, and will act like someone described even as just buzzed/tipsy is automatically unable to consent and it's morally irresponsible if the writer has them have sex. Or act like just getting tipsy is wild irresponsible behavior. And then you have people overcorrect in the opposite direction and issue these obnoxious disclaimers on their fic about how their character is NOT that drunk but also CLEARLY this is still irresponsible behavior. (I feel like you're seeing people also call a lot of sex "unhealthy" that is just impulsive or otherwise not really unhealthy, in general, in fic disclaimers.) It's like, reading this I'm wondering if I'm back in high school? It feels like this very teenage mentality to act like all drinking to any degree is red-flag risk-taking behavior. Most adults drink somewhat (outside of, say, parts of the world where it's not part of the culture) and getting mildly buzzed but knowing your limits and not straying beyond that is not actually "risky" for people of legal drinking age who aren't pregnant or otherwise in situations where absolutely sobriety is mandatory for some reason. And like, I know the people writing most of these fics are adults, not teenagers. It really makes you wonder if they get out much; it's not like you have to be a drinker yourself just to know how alcohol affects people, you can learn that from reading about it or watching others who do drink.

Then again, I feel like IME, fandom - online and offline - tends to go to weird extremes around alcohol. Like it's either wild bacchanalia shit at cons where you'll have people who are way too old to be doing so making big shows of getting shitfaced night after night and pushing drinks on younger people and otherwise engaging in truly concerning behavior that just gets excused by this college-party-style atmosphere, OR it's people who are like "I don't drink and also I'm oppressed by the very presence of alcohol around me! This event with a bar is EXCLUDING me!" and misusing the language of accessibility to basically say because they choose not to drink, nobody else should get to, either (and who are not recovering addicts, just regular teetotalers). It's really not a healthy environment when those are the main options you see (and of course, there are people who drink normal amounts, or who don't drink but are not preachy weirdos about it, who just don't get as much attention for it) and I wonder if for people where that's their main social circle, it's influencing these strange attitudes in fic. Or if you think it's something else.

I think American culture has a lot to answer for.

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slocumjoe · 10 months

Note

do you think any of the companions drink? what would their habits be?

how the companions booze it 🍻

Cait; Hard drinker who, surprisingly, can't hold her liquor. She gets drunk quickly, but takes some time to drop out of the race, so to speak. Obviously, she used drink out of trauma response, but having gotten clean from the drug addiction, Cait drinks sparingly and rarely. Like, actually eats as she does so. Doesn't drink water because Cait isn't a water drinker. Her drunkenness depends heavily on her mood pre-boozing. Her booze of choice is beer.

Curie; does not drink. However, did try wine. Did not like it. She just makes sure there's water and food available for the local alcoholics, and badgers them to partake in such necessities. The worst days at the clinic are days after a party and she likes to lessen that load as much as possible.

Danse; Alcoholic. One of the alcoholics Curie is always after. Danse drinks when he doesn't have work, to sleep. No exception. And he drinks a fucking LOT. Like...opposite to Cait, he takes a lot to get drunk, and even more to fall down. He chugs vodka, whiskey, tequila...basically, if even one shot isn't for the faint of heart, Danse takes swigs right from the bottle. It impresses some people, but he isn't doing it to impress. Danse isn't that kind of person who takes pride in his alcoholism. This problem gets worse after BB, but he gradually gets better as time goes on.

Deacon; used to have a problem, so now alcohol is kind of a...soft no. He'll have a drink. A drink. And it won't be anything too crazy. A glass of wine, a beer or two, maybe a shot. He drinks as a social thing, just to be polite. Customs, yknow? Besides, he wants to keep his head clear. Also suffers from bad hangovers. The type to spend the whole morning puking even if he didn't have that much.

Gage: Also used to have a problem. He wasn't an alcoholic, but rather, weak to peer pressure. He wanted to impress all the big tough raiders by putting away as much crap as they could. And for the most part, Gage very much could outdrink most people. But being that drunk that often is not safe for a young man in his position, and he learned real quick that its better to the smart stick in the mud than the fun, cool, vulnerable target.

Hancock; the type of guy to think his problem makes him cool and fun. Im sorry, but he is. Hancock is the kind of person who's like "yeah man I was barely walking and shit, I had like, 30 shots or something? Haha I forget dude! So I'm like half crawling back to my place and its fucking...what, 10 in the morning? And I got work in 2 hours man, and everyone on the streets looking at me weird, ahah, shit was crazy!" Hancock drinks whatever he has, with no preference or complaint. However, there's a specific brand of whiskey that burns like a mother fucker that he likes to drink to show off. Doesn't eat or drink water. Curie has yet to give up on him in all but spirit.

MacCready; the most normal, healthy drinker. He likes the occasional beer, but his soft spot is a margarita. Or a sangria. Not into alcohol on its own. He doesn't want to taste it. He'll rarely have a drink without food. Drinking water is his weakness here, as he also isn't a water person. Mac will have a beer with dinner, and maybe another, and maybe another if the vibe is right, and if he doesn't catch himself, will end up tipsy. If he doesn't catch himself at tipsy, homeboy is getting pickled.

Nick; Used to enjoy a martini, a brandy, a wine, a rum. A gentleman of refined taste. At least, thats what he'll say. OG Nick bought his alcohol based on coupons or whatever was cheap. This man drinks bud light. Now, Nick mostly just babysits people who can get drunk. But he used to have his alcohol in accordance to whatever he was eating. Sub from the shop down the corner? Donuts? Afformentioned bud light. Dinner with Jenny, homemade seafood pasta? A wine. He's big on the idea that certain drinks have rules.

Piper; wine bitch. Drinks out of a coffee mug if ones clean. If not...girly gets a straw. She doesn't have a problem, but you wouldn't know it if you saw her while she enjoyed a drink. Wine is pretty much the only drink she likes. Beer is gross, moonshine has done enough to her, vodka is too strong to be enjoyed. She likes wine because it tastes good to her. Her taste sways towards the dry ones. Because she drinks for the taste, she isn't keen on getting drunk, so Piper is good about staying fed and hydrated. When she isn't, her hangovers are...demonic.

Preston; drinks occasionally, and never wants to get drunk. He doesn't like the feeling of being drunk, though he doesn't get hangovers. Even when inebriated, Preston mama-hens and keeps everyone eating and chugging water, so he ends up taking care of himself as well. His taste is both broad and limited. He'll drink anything—provided its local. Preston will not drink a name brand. He doesn't want Heineken, he wants Craig's magic wheat poison. He doesn't want Franzia, he wants a bottle of whatever the twitchy lesbian living in a boat house has fermenting amongst the seaweed and barnacles.

X6-88; the only alcohol you could get this man to drink is alcohol disguised as dessert. Ole Smokey banana cream moonshine comes to mind. He'll know its alcohol, you can't hide it from him, but provided its tasty enough...you might get him to indulge a little. If only for the fact that its basically candy. Otherwise, he isn't drinking. He probably can't even get drunk, not without causing a shortage.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #paladin danse #preston garvey #nick valentine #x6-88 #piper wright #companions react #robert joseph maccready #porter gage

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8aji · 1 year

Text

even if you don't notice, how do i get closer to you? // s.s.

pairing: best friend!Shinichiro Sano x reader

wc: 1.1k

synopsis: both your stupidity and his combined should, in theory, cancel each other out. in practice, it gets squared and multiplied by a thousand.

tags/cw: fluff, very very suggestive, kinda friends to implied lovers, kinda childhood friends to implied lovers, idiots to implied lovers??, very subtle pinning, mention of alcohol consumption and smoking (both reader and shin), reader is tipsy and its implied that shin is as well,

a/n: this can be read as a continuation to this or on its own, though tbh it makes me kinda happy that im unknowingly building a universe around best friend!shin, and both his and reader's idiocy TT i didn't mean to connect these two scenarios it just kinda happened pff anyway! thank you @mosviqu for beating and validating me enough to post this !!

m.list ˖ tags ˖ byi/dni

There hasn't been a moment in your life where holding Shinichiro's hand felt foreign to you.

You'd hold his hand while Crossing the street when you were kids, pulling at him to walk faster just in case the lights would turn green on you.

You were always paired up during school trips—much to Takeomi's dismay, who you had pushed out of the way multiple times before he was able to get to Shin; he wasn't going to take your partner away from you, ever—holding hands as your teacher guided you through different sights, you'd swing your intertwined fingers back and forth and giggle.

No one ever seemed to question it. Neither did you, or him for that matter. The both of you had internalized the habit to the point it became like second nature to you.

Hanging out with friends, still swinging your hands as you walked down the street to the convenience store, while sharing popcorn as you watched movies. Over the table, under the table, it wasn't like you guys hid it from anyone.

In fact, a little voice inside your brain encouraged those mini public displays of affection, something about people knowing he was yours and you were his but not really because this is what friends do and you are totally friends.

Of course with time, and as all things do, holding hands evolved into other things. Constant touching, grazing shoulders or thighs, holding your hip if he was feeling bold enough. Wearing each other's clothes like no big deal. Indirect kisses through shared cigarettes and bright red plastic cups. Making out, though that only happened once and that's ok because the both of you swore it was platonic.

It brought you here, sitting on the L-shaped couch surrounded by your friends, the bright floor lamp dimming the blue LEDs lighting up the rest of the room. The music bounced from one wall to another wall, deafening yet not loud enough to prevent you from indulging in conversation.

You sat next to Shinichiro, head leaning against his shoulder, both of you intently listening to whatever anecdote Takeomi and Benkei were retelling. Your intertwined hands rested on your lap as you played around with the silver band you had gifted him a while back—you don't think he's ever taken it off since then. Sometimes you'll stop and caress the back of his palm with your thumb and you swore you could feel his body slightly jolt every time you did; it gave you some sort of weird satisfaction.

He was warm against your cheek, the contact made you want to purr like a cat, bask in everything that made him, him. And, fine, maybe you lied about intently listening to whatever it was your friends were talking about, their voices turning into white noise the more you got distracted by his existence.

No one could blame you really, your best friend was entrancing; charming in a way no one was to you, only him.

He moved his shoulder, lightly, so as not to hurt you, pulling you out of your Shinichiro-induced daydream, like he had noticed the way you slipped further and further away. You could probably blame it on the slight buzz from the drinks you had, but truth be told, it was just you wanting to look at him; just like he wanted to look at you.

The sudden movement made you look up at him, pretty black irises staring back at you. You hummed in acknowledgement, understanding what he meant without him needing to speak; you good? he meant to ask.

“Okay but, do you guys need us to leave?” Takeomi intervened, a smirk on his lips as he indulged in the satisfaction he got from bursting your bubble. His question had the both of you turn your attention to him, eyebrows pursed in confusion. “You’re looking at each other like you wanna fuck.”

Your protests got mixed with your friends' laughter, and almost instinctively, you pulled away from his body as if it burned to the touch.

“What?” Shinichiro asked, sitting on the edge of the sofa. He is really, really hoping the blush on his face is barely noticeable, or at least, that you blame it on the alcohol. “We’re not!”

“Yeah!” You intervened, crossing your legs again to dissimulate the way you squeezed your thighs together. “That’s so fucking gross.”

Your best friend was about to speak up, further support your argument against their baseless, absurd, ludicrous, and nonsensical claim, yet, after properly processing what it was you said—and it did take him a while to do so, he looked like a 2000s computer loading; Shinichiro.exe has stopped working—he couldn't help but turn to you, appalled at your response, a subtle pout grazing his lips.

“Wait— You wouldn't fuck me?”

“Huh?”

“You said he was gross,” Wakasa chimed in, reminding you. A smile ghosted his lips at his two dumbass friends who, somehow, still haven’t figured out they were in love with each other. It was disgusting, in your own words undeniably ‘gross’, but also slightly endearing in a way that made everyone want to groan in disdain but also melt because it was sweet.

"I— what? Of course I'd fuck you!" you fumbled, confession prompted by Wakasa's revelation because even if you wanted to keep your not-crush hidden for as long as possible, you could never let Shinichiro believe he was unfuckable; you wouldn't become his 21st rejection even if indirectly.

“You mean it?”

You nodded, the tension from your own revelation dissipating at the dumb smile forcing his eyes to close into half-crescent moons; it made you giggle.

“I’d fuck you every single day if I could.”

“Yeah, we’re well aware, every time you look at each other’s like a porno’s playing behind your eyes.” You could hear Takeomi laughing, slapping Benkei’s chest and running out of air before choking on absolutely nothing; deserved. Wakasa could only sigh, satisfied at Benkei’s seemingly out-of-character statement. You and Shin tried to protest again, defend your honour and all that, but it didn’t take long for your attention to switch focus to the song now playing on the massive speakers; you didn’t hesitate to get a hold of Shinichiro’s hand, fingers molding perfectly against yours, and drag him to the dance floor before he could protest, though it's not like he would’ve even had he gotten the chance, he was too whipped for that.

“They’ve been pinning after each other ever since they met,” Wakasa whispered to his side, stretching his arms and accommodating them against the back of the couch and around the guy he had been chatting up all night. Maybe he’d get as lucky as the both of you, hopefully, will.

#master collection.#tr collection.#shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano fluff #shinichiro fluff #sano shinichiro x you #shinichiro x you #tr fluff #tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers fluff

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usercupid · 2 years

Text

party girl

elliot x reader

short blurb cause i’m not writing a part 2 to wishful thinking unless i think it’s good and as of rn, i don’t think it’s allat lmfao

also i wrote this in like an hour and 30 minutes just to get smth quick out bc ive noticed lack of elliot x reader so now i have to take matters into my own hands

prompt: “how about a kiss before i go”

1.6K words

you’d wish it was like this every night. the music blasting so loud to the point where you can only hear the bass, the sweaty bodies dancing in the middle of the room, and you and your best friends doing shots for the 3rd time tonight. everything was perfect.

you’d been bored out of your mind for the past few weeks so maddy wanted to invite you out. she hoped this night would lift your spirits again. you had told her all you really wanted was a bit of excitement in your life and you needed something to help and so far, this night was making you forget about how miserable you’ve been feeling for a while.

“(y/n), i’m goin to the bathroom to fix my makeup! don’t go too far, ‘kay?” maddy yelled to you as she finished pouring your drink.

“yeah okay, i got it! i’ll tell cassie if i’m going anywhere” you yelled back after you took a sip of your drink.

“alright!” maddy shouted her reply as she squished through everyone on the dance floor. her stunning black dress made her stand out from the crowd and you were debating if you should go in the bathroom with her until someone came up to you.

“hey (y/n)! it feels like i haven’t seen you like…forever!” kat exclaimed as she wrapped you into a bear hug.

“oh my god, wassup kat! i didn’t even know you were here!” you exclaimed, “how have you been?”

“huh? can you repeat that..”

“i said, how have you been!” you yelled, leaning in closer to kat.

“i still can’t hear- actually, let’s go somewhere more quiet. i wanna catch up with you some more!” kat yelled as she started pouring herself a cup of hennessy with cranberry juice.

“alright, lemme just tell cassie where im at..- wait where did she go???”

“i dunno, but last last i saw her, she was walking in the bathroom. she’s probably shittin her brains out right now.” bb chimed in as she took a puff from her vape.

“i thought nate was in there?” you questioned, but shrugged the weird coincidence off after no less than 2 seconds of thinking about it.“well, if you see maddy, tell her i went with kat to the backyard, ‘kay?”

kat started to drag you through the dance floor and into the backyard. after a grueling minute and a half of pushing through sticky, sweaty teenagers, you both finally reached the quietest part of the yard so you and kat could sit down and catch each other up on what the actual fuck was happening in your lives.

after about 25 minutes of talking, drinking, and smoking, you decided to get up and start looking for maddy again, but it felt like the house became even more cramped and you quickly got lost

it was a lot like you being in a mirror maze. you were pretty tipsy and the crowded house didn’t make you feel any better. to escape the crowds and noise, you walked down the steps to a basement.

you started knocking and opening random doors until you opened one that revealed a very peculiar person.

“maddy? you in here- oh shit, sorry.” you said as you realized that there was a boy in there, getting ready to snort something.

“nonono, don’t be sorry, i wasn’t doing anything soo…” the boy croaked as he shifted his position on the washing machine to a less suspicious one. albeit, it made him look even more weird.

“mkay… whatever you say.” you leered as you slowly started backing away from the door

“yeah, it is whatever i say. cause i am telling the truth.” he dryly uttered

“you cannot be lying to me when i saw you getting ready to sniff somethin’. it’s cool though, im not a party pisser.” you sneered as you opened the door wider to get a better look at the weirdo who you were speaking to. the only thing is, you didn’t expect to see someone like him. his dazed, heavy-lidded eyes were a calm shade of brown, strands of his curly, dyed hair were stuck to parts of his forehead due to the sweat, and the cute apple tattoo under his eye all made your face heat up and your head feel lighter than it already did.

“are you just gonna keep staring at me or..” he questioned as he started looking around.

“i wasn’t staring?” you denied as you walked further into the room.

“yeah you were.” he persisted.

“was not”

“was too”

“i wasn’t! i don’t know know why you’re lying”

“i don’t ever lie”

“oh so you saying you saying that you weren’t doing drugs in here earlier isn’t a lie?”

“touché.” he said as moved away from the machine “so would you like to stay in here and keep me company or are you still looking for your friend?”

“i’m pretty bored so i might as well stay. besides, maddy can handle herself for a few more minutes. what’s your name?” you asked as you took a seat on the floor next to him

“elliot.” he replied as he got back to whatever drug he was doing.

“mm, you look like an elliot” you said as your speech started slurring.

“are you drunk?” he questioned as he turned around to look you in your eyes. he saw your captivating (e/c) eyes and ruffled hair. you looked absolutely breathtaking.

“yeah just a lil bit, the patron is coming back to me and i can’t tell how bad my hangover’s gonna be tomorrow. i’m also just the teeniest tiniest bit high if that counts for anything.” you rambled as you started to pick the dirt from under your painted acrylic nails.

“okay well before you can change the topic, can you tell me your name?”

“(y/n). and i am not that drunk! i am perfectly fine!” you stuttered, shifting in your spot on the floor

“that’s a real pretty name.” elliot complimented as he observed you for a 100th time tonight.

your face immediately heated up. not only was this boy cute but he was charming too. lord, you hoped you didn’t get too wasted to forget and ask him for his number

you both spent an hour and a half talking to each other about the most random shit imaginable until nothing you said started to made any sense to elliot. but even though he couldn’t understand a word coming out your mouth, he still listened to you blabber about how wyoming wasn’t a real state for 10 minutes straight. he genuinely believed you would’ve gone on and on about this if your phone hadn’t rang when it did.

19 missed calls from ; madz 🪐

13 missed calls from ; kitty kat 🐈‍⬛

madz🪐: bitch wya

madz🪐: pick up the phone

madz🪐: u getting dick or smth? pick up the phone dummyyy

kitty kat 🐈‍⬛: maddy is thinking ab leaving, you wanna leave w/ us?

kitty kat 🐈‍⬛: omg pick up

kitty kat 🐈‍⬛: how do you get lost in this tiny ass house

“shit, my friends are calling me. i gotta go” you said as you grabbed your purse and fixed your dress

“mm do you really have to go?” elliot asked, tilting his head up at you

“yes, i do. my only ride home is about to leave” you sighed

“i can take you home.”

“a drug addict offering to take me home sounds like a wonderful idea.” you mused, grabbing your bag.

“okay, okay. i get it, you gotta leave” he said, slouching further onto the floor

“thank you, now if you’ll excuse me-“

“before you leave-“ elliot started, “can i get a kiss before you go”

you stood there stuck. it felt as if your brain just malfunctioned and gave out. your mouth felt dry, your legs almost gave out from under you. he couldn’t be serious.

you immediately started laughing. he had to be joking. nobody could be that bold, that cute, and that stupid

elliot stood up as he stared at you with smirk on his face, waiting for you to come towards him

“oh, you’re serious?” you asked, stopping your laughter

you walked closer to him, staring at his face. you were speechless, no words would come out your mouth no matter how hard you thought. you felt your face get hot and your breathing was labored. you didn’t have to kiss him, but you wanted to.

you stared him in the eyes for a few seconds before standing on your toes to whisper in his ear “it isn’t very polite to ask ladies you've just met for a kiss, lover boy. maybe another time?” you then wrapped your hand around his torso to take his phone out of his back pocket to write your number in his notes app.

“call me, ‘mkay?” you smirked as you left the room, leaving the curly head boy alone with his thoughts. after about 30 seconds of replaying the scene that just happened, he finally shook his head and picked up his phone to save your number in it.

elliot thought you’d be easy. just a one night stand. he couldn’t deny how beautiful you were and how he thought to himself that he should try and keep you in his life for a while but ultimately decided against it. he expected you to mindlessly kiss him and when tomorrow would arrive, he’d invite you over, you guys would fuck, and then never think of each other again.

as you were in the car with maddy and kat, you had hoped he’d end up calling you tomorrow. even thought you wanted to kiss him more than you’ve wanted anything else in your entire life, you wanted to keep him hooked, too. i mean, what’s the fun in immediately giving him what he wants? you wanted fun and this is the exact excitement you were looking for.

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oscpaistry · 1 year

Text

Shit.

Ft :: João Félix and f! reader.

Summary :: João went out with his team and u decided to stay at home. João came home tipsy and told u things u never would expect to leave his mouth.

João was clubbing with his team. U decided to stay at home to relax and have some 'me-time'. You missed João but you didnt want to disturb his night so you left him alone. You walked over to the kitchen to get some snacks, then you heard the front door open. You get all excited to finally see him again. The door slammed shut and heard him shuffling closer to the kitchen.

You saw you boyfriend, to be exact. Your tipsy boyfriend, he shuffled through the hall and went to the kitchen. He sat down on a chair. He didnt notice you until you spoke up.

"Hey my love, how was your night?" You said, sitting on the opposite side of the table. He looked up at you and opened his mouth to speak.

"Yo, it was amazing. I saw my boy's and saw some pretty fucking girl's there. Fucking hell, they were gorgeous." He replied, he talked to you as if you were one of his 'boys'.

Your eyes widened at his reply. Shocked about what he just said.

"João Félix. Are you hearing yourself?!" Your voice now filled with anger. He looked at you with a confusing look on his face.

"Yeah? I said that i saw my boy's and some pretty fuckin' girls at the club. I just wanted to grab them and push-" he answered. Whenever João got tipsy or drunk alone he acted different, he didnt know where he was or who you were. But when the Portuguese man got tipsy or drunk with you, he would be very touchy, kiss you and whisper into your ear. When he got home alone tipsy, you know you were in for a treat. You knew that he could act weird. But this, this is something completely new and different.

"How could you say that, to me especially. João, i know you're tipsy right now. But i need you to knew that i am your girlfriend." You tried to remind him, but he looked at you as if you were a mad women.

"No you aren't? Okay, if you are my girlfriend, wich i doubt. What's my full name, age and when did we start dating?" He replied, one eyebrow pulled up and eye's popped out. What his wrong with him? You were starting to feel angry. Angry how he could forget about his own girlfriend in a matter of 5 hours.

"Okay, you wanna play like that huh? Your full name is João Félix Sequeira, you are 23 years old and we started dating on the 17th of august 2017. But y'know João, i dont care anymore since you wanted those club-girls so badly. Go and get them." You said, watching realization hit him. He just realized that he lost his girlfriend of 6 years.

"Shit." He cursed out. You just walked away, still hearing 'shit' and 'fuck' and 'im sorry baby.' over and over again. 6 beautiful years, flushed down the drain. All the unforgettable moments you two had. All the dark secrets you shared with him. All down the drain in a matter of minutes.

João just lost his pretty girl of 6 years...

#tumblr2023 #football #joao felix #joao felix angst #light angst #portugal #atletico de madrid #chelsea fc #trentssaint #trentssaint rambling

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linaselandbasil · 1 year

Text

The Bottom Of A Bottomless Mimosa-Valkyon/Ykhar

It's been a while since I started writing and I'm happy to announce, it is here, it is finished, you can read it!

It gets a little bit weird, but I think it's okay. There's weirder. After I was done editing, it ended up being 5800 something words, so it's long. I intended it to be long as hell, because come on, it's Valkyon!

The full work is below the cut if you don't like clicking on links.

Have fun reading~

Ykhar was a wee bit tipsy. She stumbled after Valkyon, who seemed to always be strutting like he's on the catwalk. She was a little confused when they didn't go towards HQ, but she quickly realized what Valkyon meant by 'his place'.

Kassvin's house.

This made her feel so dirty. Like a homewrecker.... She... likes it, actually! She rarely does adventurous things like this nowadays, but she certainly wouldn't mind. She wouldn't mind being.... Like Valkyon.

She's so obsessed with him.

The door opened with a deafening creak and they stepped into the dark foyer.

"Does Kassvin mind?"

"He doesn't. But don't tell him we did it in his bed." He stripped his cloak off and looked at her. "Take your shoes off, he doesn't like it when we track dirt in."

She took the red shawl off and put it on the hanger. Valkyon was a watching her like a hawk. His smoky eyeshadow was a tiny bit smudged from their earlier kisses.

She could feel her legs getting weaker already...

She bunched her dress up as they went upstairs, the hem was long enough that she could trip on it and going to the infirmary would be an embarrassing end to their one night stand.

The bed wasn't made.... the blankets that Kassvin slept in just this morning were strewn about. Valkyon you whoooore! YOu WHorE!

Ykhar unbuttoned her bodice and threw it to the side. The dress was now lose around her frame and Valkyon pulled it over her head in one go. She had a shift on underneath, slightly tinted blue from a disastrous blueing incident.

Valkyon was quick to push her on the mattress. He let her watch as he took his crop top off... He had a bunch of jewels on too because he's a crow. He likes shiny stuff.

"Hey... " He said. "Are you alright?"

"I'm alright. Are you?"

"Yeah... do I look not alright?"

"You look tense."

"You look straight up scared."

"Im a little scared. I kind of have a huge crush on you." He laughed and undid his belt. "And this is your boyfriends house."

He smirked. "What about it?"

She blushed. "Nothing..."

"It doesn't seem like it's nothing. Enjoyin' it I hope?"

"Very much." She watched him undress. He took his jewels off one by one and put them on a chair that Kassvin endearingly dubbed 'the nightsit'......

Damn it, that's so funny.

Valkyon used to think Ykhar was the most adorable thing ever to exist. He tends to find people like her attractive and she tends to find people like him attractive so it's obvious that they ended up together.

He held her chin up and kissed her, slowly and tenderly. He's tipsy, and when he's tipsy he gets all soft.... Or is he always soft? Probably. He could go a little more rough though.

"I'm not made of sugar."

"Why so sweet, then?" She chuckled and pulled his other hand closer, into her hair. She's acting all coquetteish.

"You know what I like." He smiled.

"Mhm." He sat down on the mattress and she crawled right into his lap. Valkyon's lips quickly found hers and he kissed her until her skin was flushed red. His hand held the back of her head, fingers buried in her hair. The smooth bastard slid his hands right under her shift, caressing her thigh.

She reached down, palm sliding across his strong abdomen and coming to a halt at the hem of his underwear. He pulled her back by her hair and looked at her.

"Really? So impatient." She giggled as he took her hand and kissed it. "We got all night."

"Soo-reee!" She said, snaking her arms around his neck and scooting closer. She rode one of his thighs, grinding down just right. "Mmh~"

He wrapped her up in his arms, smelling her neck. Cigarette smoke and floral perfume. The usual after being in a bar all night.

Oh? Wouldn't you believe, she also smells like Lance. That slut, he's almost as bad as Valkyon.

He kissed her until she was dizzy then let his hands explore. They traveled far and wide, to her back, her stomach, her breasts and her neck, then they mysteriously found their way right back under her shift. The way his warm, calloused palm traced it's way up and down sent shivers and goosebumps all over her body.

The warm buzz of his charm made her want to just lay down and let him have anything of hers. She pulled her shift off, even as the cold pricked icy needles into her skin. It's worth it, his skin will warm her through in no time.

Her strawberry lip gloss was all gone with the wind by now. She moaned and whined as he inched his hand down between her legs. He was slow but oh so precise. He remembers exactly how she likes it. She wrapped her legs around his waist to give a better vantage to his hand. He's very welcome in there.

After all, he knows exactly how she wants it.

Feathery caresses at first, and ummm.... You know. Bed breaking later.

She couldn't keep her hands to herself, she just had to try again. She reached down once again and this time he let her get into his underwear without a word.

Her fingers raked through the silver hair, looking for his massive choking hazard of a monster cock. She found it, wrapped her tiny hand around it and enjoyed the barely audible grunt that came from the amber eyed beauty.

He stroked her through the light fabric of her panties before reaching underneath and dipping one just barely into the warmth of her. She gasped, which made Valkyon want to mess with her. He needed to hear that again.

"Nghh~" He pulled his hand away, grabbed her thighs and turned her around. A little bit forceful, but Ykhar quite literally wants to be beaten up in bed like a pro wrestler, so it's quite alright. It's always the girls with short nails who's the freaks.

She sat astride his thigh once again, leaning into his chest and enjoying the embrace.

"See that mirror over there?" He asked, whispering in her twitching ear. He kissed her scalp just behind it, giving her goosebumps all over her pale body.

"Yes."

"Look how beautiful you are. You could have anyone, yet you only want me. Get over me." She burst out laughing because that sounds quite silly while hes preparing to fuck her into tge sunrise. She quieted down when he started rocking her back and forth. The friction was just perfect, and it didn't fail to remind her that she should be trying to stay in his good graces.

"Yet here we are."

"You're not special to me anymore, but you could be to someone." Ouch.

"Vaaaal! That's mean!" He chuckled, sliding a hand down to rest on her belly, inching downward at a torturous pace. She felt her cheeks burn. Her heart ran wild like a frightened deer.

"You know what's mean? You also smell like Lansegra." He pressed his nose into her hair, breathing in. "You're still fucking my brother."

She was honestly speechless, but Valkyon didn't seem too turned off by that, so she wasn't going to deny anything. It was absolutely turning her on though. "I'm sorry." She managed with a trembling voice.

"I know you aren't.... But you can make up for it if you're pretending to be sorry." He then reached into her panties and resumed working her open. She could feel his hard dick poking her thigh as she helplessly dangled her leg off of the side of the bed. She was holding onto his hair, reaching behind herself as she was fingered exactly the way she liked.

Her panties were soaked, she was moaning loudly. He hooked his free arm under her knee and hoisted her up to have a better look at her in their reflection. "Look at you." His tone was teasing, a bit playful. "A bigger whore than I am."

"I'm sorry! Please!"

"For what?" He kissed her neck. "For fucking my brother again? You do whatever you want, i don't care anymore."

"Im- I-"

"Or for getting railed by me on my boyfriends bed? Is that what you're sorry for? He'll live." He kept kissing her neck and shoulders, smirking devilishly every time their eyes met in the mirror.

"Mmh! Faster!" Oh how it pleased him to hear that. He obliged, letting her squirm in his arms until she came. He felt her squeeze his two fingers while he kept fingering her through the best 8 seconds of her day. Best 8 seconds so far.

He chuckled, looking at her face in the mirror. He lifted his finger to her mouth and stuck it in. "Clean it." She sucked, putting her tounge between the two fingers and getting her mess off with maximum efficiency. Again, she's a freak. She has had plenty of practice, her methods are next level.

"You've got the nerve to walk around in his shawl? What if someone realized it was his?" Valkyon finally spoke, forcing her to face the mirror with his still wet hand.

"Your brothers shawl?"

"Obviously, dumbass." He smiled as he said that. She's into degradation, don't worry.

"It was so cold! I'm sorry!"

"Hmm. Don't worry about it. Now that you know how stupid it was, you won't repeat it." He ruffled her hair before taking a fistful and pulling on it lightly.

"Hmm~" She gave him a long look. "More."

"Dont worry, I wasn't gonna stop now." She chuckled. She stood up and pushed him on his back. She hastily shimmied out of her panties, which Valkyon just noticed they had little heart shaped carrots on them! So fucking cute. He scooted backwards and got comfortable looking at her naked form in the dim light of the moon. "You're excited, it seems."

"You're like if crack cocain was a person." She climbed on top of him, knees on either side of his hips. She looked down at him. "I need more, I'm begging you!"

He smiled. "Tell me, what do you want?" He had his hands under his head to prop it up.

"Mmmmmm." Her grey eyes traveled from his glowing amber ones, all across his scarred neck and abdomen and finally down to his- "Dick."

His brash grin never faltered as he snapped his fingers to ignite the lantern by the bed. "This lighting suits you."

She was hungrily starting at his member, barely hearing him over her aggressively vivid imagination. She wanted to cry from pleasure, to be filled to the brim with him. She wanted to choke on all he had... Just like in the good old days. "Do you still know that ward spell?"

He scoffed. "Yes, I'm still using it pretty often." You see, a condom is basically a penis shaped ward. Valkyon saves fortunes by using a modified combat shield spell instead of buying overpriced boxes if them bitches just to not spread herpes like a witcher.

He did his thing, conjuring the thinnest ward imaginable and putting it on his little guy. Little is a relative term.

She gasped. "Aaaw, he's going to battle in his little armor! Cute!" He was normally a patient man, but he's getting to the end of his rope.

"Ykhar."

"Yes??" She looked like a deer in headlights. "Oh I'm so sorry!"

He laughed at her as she somewhat clumsily lined the soldier up and sent it to the trenches in one go. She moaned and took his hand in hers. He reached up and firmly gripped her thighs to keep her from falling. She had other ideas and took his hands and placed them on her breasts.

"Val... I feel guilty." She shifted side to side, enjoying the initial stretch, feeling every last bit of it all up in her. The feeling was so strange, like nothing else. Like something cold in her veins raced back and forth through her guts, like a lightning bolt of goodness bloomed in her.

"For fucking my brother?"

"For doing this to Kass." He smirked and thrust his hip up. Her surprised yelp mixed with a whine of pleasure.

"You like it." He pinched.

"I do." She slowly went up, enjoying the way it slid out of her. She's so damn wet. This man is a coochie wizard.

He went to grab her hips and pull her back down. He groaned, feeling so relieved that he's finally getting some attention. She was enjoying it as much as him, judging by how fast she was trying to go. She bounced up and down with his hands keeping her from falling.

But lets not forget that she's not in peak physical prowess.

"Vaalll! My legs are sore!" He wasted no time flipping over and pinning her to the soft mattress. She giggled, admiring him from below as he realigned himself and thrust in. "Ah! Go hard~" He scoffed, then he threw her legs up on one of his shoulders and fucked her so hard the bed started moving with them.

Good thing Kassvin has no neighbors.

Ykhar gripped the sheets, knuckles white. Her moans were almost screams, each of them making her throat hurt a little.

He kept going, relentless, merciless and so fast. Just like she wanted. Her eyes began to water from all her emotions. She was feeling a lot and she was feeling them strong. He leaned his weight on his legs and slowed down.

"Yo-

"Keep GOING!" She yelled, and Valkyon did exactly that. He resumed his rough pace, ramming into her and fucking her through her tears.

"You worry me."

"Shut up! Keep doing this, I need this!"

"Alright sweetheart." He emptied his mind, robotically railing her into oblivion. He's so turned on, but he has to wait. He has to be patient. The guest goes first. He thought about Kassvin. He fucked the little human just like this, only.... Kassvin didn't want to be destroyed quite this much.

He came apart like a braid without a tie, the warrior had touched every inch of him and found all the buttons he could press to turn his little prince into a mess.

The best part was probably the story he told Valkyon about how he found out that he didn't have a gag reflex. That was his favorite part because the little blavian followed it up with a demonstration.

Hmm, he should make Ykhar do that too. She's magnitudes better at it than anyone he's ever laid with.

"Val! Ah!" He looked down and found her face beautifully red, her teary eyes fixed on him. "I'm! I'm-" Cumming. She squeezed her eyes shut, falling silent as a very happy teardrop rolled down her temple. He kept going at the exact same pace to let her enjoy it to the fullest. Another amazing 8 seconds. "Valkyon. Thank you." Her chest rose with her labored breaths. She went limp underneath him.

"You can show me how thankful you are, just rest a bit." He has a beautiful rough voice to match his beautiful rough everything. Ykhar felt the sound of him rumble through her neck as he spoke. She whined as he pulled out, missing it already.

"Give me a minute...." She sat up. "I'm dizzy."

"I would offer you some water, but I can't climb the stairs with this thing, it would hit the steps and that hurts." She giggled so hard she almost rolled down the side of the bed.

"I can certainly help you with that, good sire~" She scooted over and brushed her hair out of her face. She opened wide and swallowed the thing whole like it was a magic trick in a circus. The warmth of her body embraced him once again, and he almost thrust up into her throat. She must have noticed because she looked up through her still wet eyelashes and puffy eyes and pulled off of him.

"Get to work." She blushed, a tinge of arousal coursing through her.

"I'm sorry." She certainly loves apologizing. It's probably the mommy issues, Lance has something like this as well. Her mouth opened and she took him in again, slowly this time. She relished in the taste of herself and the slightly metallic zap of magic coming from the ward. It stuck so close to the skin that it wrapped around the foreskin as if it wasn't even there. Her tounge lapped at the veins on the underside, still looking him in the eye.

He moaned and laid back, head hitting one of Kassvins seven pillows. "You're still good at this." He muttered, looking down. He caught a glimpse of her tiny tail wagging from happiness. Adorable...

He reached down and grabbed her ears in his fists and guided her by them. She whimpered from the pain she loved so much, letting him use her like a toy until he came a few seconds later.

The ward. Seemed to give out at the exact moment, letting him spill on her lips.

"What a coincidence!" Valkyon said, smirking with self satisfaction.

"Indeed...."

"Good girls swallow."

"Do I look like a good girl?"

"You do look like one, but your a liar and a whore." The nice little tingles of desire returned as shame seeped into her. She opened up and licked the cum off her lips. "Wasn't so difficult, was it?" He pet her head, scratching behind her ears.

She tried to smile, but her emotions were so conflicted. Valkyon sighed and pat the space next to himself. She crawled into his arms and relaxed her body. So sore, so tired... Thirsty.

"That was really good, thank you." She said.

"Are we done? That was only one round."

She laughed. "Do you ever get tired??"

"Occasionally."

"By the gods... Can you get that water now? I'm dying of thirst.." She rolled away, flinging a cream colored thigh over a bunched up blanket.

He sighed. "Sure." He went to the kitchen, naked as the day he was born. He stood above the sink for a short while, letting the reality of his ex in his bed sink in. The reality of his ex, who fucked his brother and is continually fucking his brother while his brother was supposedly dead for three fucking years.

'Whatever.' He thought. 'It could be worse. Like if she was fucking my actually dead brother. Now that would be really bad.'

By the time he came back, Ykhar was on her feet admiring herself in the mirror. She was poking at a light bruise on her hip, he didn't notice he left that. She turned around to look at him when he entered, tail wagging and ears perked up.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked.

"A little bit." She went for the water, chugging the whole thing in one go.

"Cheers..." When she finished, he put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her down. Her knees hit the parquet, she dropped the metal cup, letting it roll away on the creaky floor. "You know, Kassvin hates to sleep with this mirror turned to the bed like this. He feels he's being watched."

She was grinning like a fool, tail wagging at maximum speed. He pushed her bottom lip with his thumb. Put the ward up, taking his sweet time. She was on the edge of her seat and he wanted to push her patience as far as it would go.

She let him push his finger past her bitten, red lips, opening up obediently.

"Go ahead, put on a show for his ghosts. Let 'em see." She reached up and delicately held his calloused hand, she sucked on each finger, still tasting herself. She moaned. "Kassvin would never do that."

He let her work until he felt her saliva get thick and stringy around his digits. She gagged as he pressed down on her soft tounge and dragged all the way out. He smeared the mess on his already hardening length and got out of her way so she could work.

And work she did, looking at her reflection and feeling the burning shame of an imaginary crowd of ghosts gawking at her. Naked, defiled... Mostly dirty, literally and figuratively.

Valkyons quiet grunts and soft moans kept her grounded in reality. She felt him grab her ears, he just wanted to feel their velvety texture. They're nice.

She looked up as she bobbed up and down, jaw wide open, face dripping with drool and eyes filled with tears.

"Look at yourself. Beautiful." He purred down, eyes glinting in the dark like a wolf. His face is mostly obscured by shadow, she feels like she's in the spotlight, the moonlight seems to be focused completely on her. She looked at herself again. 'Kassvin would never do that.'

She's so incredibly jealous... But she likes him, and she's really turned on by getting fucked in his bed by his man.

Valkyon grabbed some of her hair with her ears and yanked her off. He was rough with her, just like she wanted it, but he still looked at her if she was okay or not. She smiledt him, ears twitching upward in his fists, wanting to point upward. She's alright. "Bed?"

"Bed." Kassvins bed.

She hopped on, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Valkyon pushed her all the way to the headboard and pulled her ass up in the air. She didn't protest, instead she grabbed a pillow to hug and lowered her shoulders to the mattress.

She heard the faint sound of the ward spell being cast again and felt relieved, because she completely forgot that she could get pregnant. She wondered how long it lasted... Valkyon didn't seem like the best sorcerer, but lasting a while seemed like his forté.

The pillow smells like Kassvin... Oh the shame... It was awesome.

Valkyon ran a finger over her folds and was happy to find her still wet. He pressed in, making her moan. "Put it in already!" He scoffed, but he obeyed, the lady gets what she wants.

He set a slower pace this time, but he still slammed in hard. Her whole body rocked back and forth, she pressed her ass backwards into his hips with the last shred of clarity and strength left in her. Her back arched and she breathed in heavy, smelling the humans sweat on the pillow.

"Valkyon... Are you thinking about him?"

"Right now I'm thinking about breakfast, he makes... he makes good breakfast." His mind s a bit clouded right now. Wonder why. "Why, are you jealous?"

"Hmmmh!!!" He thrust into her extra hard. "A little bit~"

Hes a"You gettin' off on being fucked in his bed? In his house? Enjoy it. I bet you loved to fuck my brother in the same bed you fucked me." He had a firm hold on her hips, fingers pressing right on her already darkening bruises, adding a small whisper of pain to the generous pleasure. She found that she was throbbing for another touch and reached down to sate her desire.

"I bet he's not this good in bed."

"And I bet you're terrible in the kitchen."

"Gah! Whatever!"

He laughed, speeding up a little bit. She also went a little faster, and made louder and louder noises.

She grabbed the bars of the bedpost for stability as she came. Good job Valkyon!

She gasped for air, like she just ran a marathon. She felt him get more erratic before also cumming. This time the ward spell was somehow effective at holding itself together.

It did break a few seconds later however, so now the duvet is pregnant. Good job Valkyon.....

Ykhar turned over and beckoned the warrior into an embrace. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that he wanted a hug and let her breasts cushion his tired face.

Man, I love boobs.... Valkyon feels indifferent to boobs as a dragon, but they're undeniably a lot of fun. Like, who in mother nature's design team came up with built in stress balls with baby food in them. That's so dumb, and yet it works!

After a short while, the sweat dried on their skin and Ykhar really needed to pee, so they washed up and changed the dirty sheets before going to sleep. Ykhar on one side, Valkyon on the other, as far away as possible..... But they still woke up snuggled up with each other.

The morning came, as usual, way too soon for Valkyons liking. Neither of them had a hungover, since Ykhar had literally two drinks and Valkyon is like if Rasputin didn't stink.... as often. And was more fashionable.

He could chug rat poison and be okay.

They found a bite to eat while perched on the couch, blinds still closed for some reason. Valkyon prefers to live in houses that look like caves and he's been brooding about his dear Kassvin leaving, so he kept them closed.

Which was literally yesterday, might I remind you after 3000 words of nasty smex and fornication.

Ykhar had bedroom eyes again. She's a bottomless pit for cock.

"Do you want to go one last time?"

"Again?"

"Yes?"

"..... Sure, but you lead. It's too early to top."

Ykhar had taken the day off, because she thought she would be too hungover to work. This outcome is much more pleasant to her.

She pulled her shift off, feeling the nip in the air. Her hairs stood on end as she held his perfect face in her hands. He was really groggy looking, but undeniably horny as well. The heavens made them just for each other, it's a shame they fell apart.

"You're so pretty." Kassvin says that too. Especially when he's in his dragon form. Makes him feel truly seen.

She kissed him, tasted like buttered toast and black tea. Slow and lazy touches crept across their bodies. They tenderly held each other and went from vertical to horizontal really quickly.

Ykhar pushed his head down and he dutifully went down on her with a small smirk. He's in his element.

"You wipe that off your face you horndog!"

He laughed, kissing her thigh. She propped her leg up on the coffee table, opening up like a heavy tome with a cracked spine. He didn't say anything, he simply began by licking her opening from bottom to top, which made her whine.

"You sound like him." He said. "He reminded me of you, he's just as bad at flirting as you." He licked again. Her small hands reached down and tangled in his silver hair. His badly washed off black eyeshadow still clung on, it's a good look on him.

"And you remind me of Lance."

"It's almost like we're related." They laughed softly, still half asleep. He placed his lips back on her and began licking her without a break. She mewled and sank into the couch, limbs getting weak and her blood fizzing into her groin. She pulled his hair, tightly gripping it. He grunted, relishing in the sharp sensation. She pushed him into herself, yearning for more.

Her moans filled the small room, barely leaving any space for his own sounds of pleasure. She pulled him up by his hair and climbed into his lap again. Her mouth met his in a passiobate, breathtaking kiss. His hands went to embrace her, while hers went down to continue where he left off between her thighs.

"You're so selfless, Valkyon."

"I am. You should try it too." He jabbed at her immediately as he saw the opportunity for it. "I made you really happy last night, now it's your turn."

She shoved his shoulders back, a little offended, but being a good sport about it. "Two years of dating and you dare say I don't serve you? Valkyon, that is so mean of you!" She lightly scratched his sides with her short nails, leaving red marks. She barely grazed his leaking member with her palms before leaving him completely without touch. She kicked the coffee table away and took a step back. "You keep your hands to yourself then, if you're so tired of working!"

He rolled his eyes and put his hands behind his back, manspreading proudly to feast her eyes. I certainly hope you're as blessed with imagination as I am, because he's a beauty. "As you wish."

"Thank you." She climbed back into his lap, immediately going for a kiss. His face was cupped by the woman's palms, they were soft, they hadn't seen a day's worth of hard physical work in years.

She kissed him all over his face. He got smooches on his nose, his cheeks, his forehead and when she was done professing her annoyingly undying love, she moved on to kiss his neck. She bit down on his hot skin, drawing a soft 'nmh!' from him.

She found that her hands were drawn downward and wrapped around him. He made such sweet sounds under her hands and mouth that she couldn't help but bite him harder. He deserves the best.

She found his knifeplay scar and began sucking on it, making him moan. She slowly pushed the foreskin down and circled around the head with her thumb, enjoying his burning need for her. He wouldn't move, he's not going to back down. He's not a little bitch, he can do this!

As she found another spot on his neck to mark, she began stroking with one hand, nice and slow. She could feel herself fill to the brim with lust as his muscles tensed and shifted, he was trying to stay still and he was struggling.

She sped up, enjoying how he lost himself in the experience. He was more than willing to let her do everything, knowing that she also knew exactly how he wanted it.

Dark bruises littered his neck, he panted and gasped as those tiny hands of hers pumped him towards completion. She scratched his side, clawing red marks into his tan skin and then she stopped. She stopped everything.

"For fucks sake!" He said a wee bit too loud. She chuckled and sat down on the couch, spreading her legs to temp him. His gaze found itself fixed to her pink lips, I'll let you decide which lips for yourself. She beckoned with the flick of a finger. He went hands first, caressing her hips before pulling her toward him suddenly.

"Ah! Bastard!" Now, that, he didn't like. Because he's actually bastard. Didn't let it get him down though.

"You're also a bastard." He leaned down and kissed her while she greedily reached down to feel him again.

"So cast your spell before we become like our parents, smart-ass!" She said, forcefully turning his head to the side and finding a beautiful forever home for the newest hickey. "I certainly wouldn't be an awesome mother."

"Kassvin would kill me." Ykhar giggled for a few seconds before she felt herself be cradled in his arms tighter. She wrapped her limbs around him, kissed and bit his neck and moaned as he pushed in.

He moved nice and slow, it was way too early for bed breaking behavior. The floor still creaked underneath the couch, even if he was all slow and gentle this time. It's probably older than both of them combined.

Valkyon raked his fingers into her ginger hair and gently gripped her soft silky ears right at the base.

"Pull it, big boy." She said, heaving hard. Who is he to deny her? He pulled, not so hard as to cause damage, but enough to make her squeeze around his cock, whining.

She suddenly felt the urge to touch him. She needed to leave more marks... She hoped Kassvin would see them, as petty as she may seem. She marred his back like a hawk, almost drawing blood, he groaned and went faster.

"Go harder. I won't break."

"You should be happy I even got out of bed this early." She got even redder, not that he saw her face from this angle. He pulled her ears again, just to make her squirm a little.

"Please!" She clawed down his chest, where she could see her work. They were almost as red as the hickeys.

He had a smirk so smirky you'd want to slap the shit out of him right there, because you see, he would have been more than happy to go harder, he just wanted her to keep begging. The bastard! "Ask nicer."

"Pretty please?"

"..."

"I'll do anything, just please, please, please go harder! I need more!" He peeled her arms off of himself and straightened up to look her in the eyes.

"You'd already do anything." She groaned, covering her eyes. Her whole body rocked with the torturously slow rhythm.

"Please!"

"Promise me one thing and I'll wreck you, m'kay?" Her ears perked up at that.

"What is it??"

"You tell my brother to go to hell for still fucking you. That's a low blow." He smiled, imagining Lance's reaction. He's already regretting that he can't see it for himself.

"I will." She chuckled, opening her arms for him to return.

"It's not funny." He pulled out, flipped Ykhar over and railed her from behind hard enough to make her scream into the cushions. She likes it from behind. I know I would, I'm really socially awkward and I'd prefer my ruthless fucking without accidentally making eye contact.

He grabbed her hair and pulled it, she propped herself up on her elbows to avoid much of the pain. Valkyon then pulled even further, let her suffer if she likes it so much. Her screams were now unobstructed by anything and they could probably be heard from outside.

Valkyon recalled hearing Kassvin mutter to himself from across the whole house sometimes. He really wished he understood blavian...

Ykhar came, squeezing him even more than before. She was also saying things in her own native tounge, which Valkyon didn't understand any better that Kassvin's blavian. He thought about his dearest human, the pleading eyes he had looked at him with, as if Val wouldn't have given him anything in this wretched world, how he tried to make a joke to lighten his mood and lastly, how he moaned 'bruh' and how he felt so terribly embarrassed about it. Valkyon spent himself thinking about the human, because fuck you Ykhar, that's what you get.

They staid there, in Kassvin's house, not thinking about the day ahead of them. Valkyon never gave much thought to the stares he got after a night of whoring himself out. Somehow everyone always seemed to look at him a little differently, even if they had no way to know.

Until they had to step out that door, they didn't have to worry about any of that.

...

#eldarya #valkyon #eldarya ykhar #smut #fanfiction #eldarya fanfiction

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moonysbeloved · 1 year

Text

Calling him Sammy - Sam Winchester x Reader

(WARNING - alcohol mention paired with weak tolerance and drunken shenanigans)

“Dean I’m not gonna say it he’ll get upset” you say to Dean, sitting in the motel room you’re sharing with the brothers. “He won’t care, he likes you y/n he would probably be happy that you call him Sammy!” Dean replies. You two have been arguing about this for days, he is convinced that his brother, Sam, likes you and you’re convinced that he does not. Sure you like him, and Dean knows this because he is a thieving bastard who went through your phone messages, but there’s no way he could like you back! “I don’t want to ruin our friendship or make things weird or make whatever bad thing that could happen, happen.” You say, and just as Deans about to make some comment back the door to the motel opens and in comes Sam. “Hey you two!” He says as he walks in with takeout. “Hey Sam!” You say, happy to see him, and to have that conversation over. Dean just nods and smiles, turning to glare at you for a moment. You guys eat the takeout and put on a movie. Later when you’re done, Dean says he’s gonna go to the bar and invites you two to come with him. “Sure! I mean if you want to” Sam says as he turns to you. “Yea, why not!” You say as you get up to get your bag ready.

You are 3 beers in and are getting tipsy already, meanwhile sam is still a fully functioning person sitting across from you. Dean is off who knows where most likely trying to get some chicks number. “You know what, fuck it” you say, starting to slur your words. Sam looks at you confused, and you continue, “Sammy, do you like me?” You ask as serious sounding as you can considering you sound like you’ve been drinking since morning. He smiles wide, “y/n I think you’ve drank too much” he says with a bit of laughter. You start getting confused and upset, “I have not! Dean said you liked me, do you?” You say, trying to sound serious again. He just looks down and then back up to you with the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen plastered to his face, “I do like you y/n, and I’m also gonna take you back to the motel because you called me Sammy and that is how I know you have definitely drank too much” he finishes the sentence with laughter as he gets up and comes over to your side of the table, handing you his hand. You take it and he pulls you up, “lets go find Dean and tell him we’ll meet him at the motel” he says as he walks you over to the counter.

The next morning you wake up with a pounding headache and a pit in your stomach. “Oh god what did I do last night” you groan as you pull yourself out of bed. Dean and Sam are already up which you don’t notice until all of the sudden Dean says “I can’t believe you actually called him Sammy!”. “What are you talking about?” You say confused as you sit at the table with the two of them. “You called me sammy and asked if I liked you last night” sam said to you, a little red in his cheeks. His red cheeks are nothing compared to yours however as you look shocked, “IM SO SORRY OH MY GOD” you say very loudly. Sam and Dean start laughing, “it’s ok y/n, I’m guessing you don’t remember what I said last night anyways” Sam says. You shake your head, looking panicked, bracing yourself for the im sorry I don��t feel the same way monologue, only to be met with a kiss. It was short, but you could feel the smile creeping onto his lips while yours were together. When he pulled away you were somehow even more red. “I don’t know why you would be so worried anyways, I mean that’s not the first time you called me Sammy you know” Sam said. “What do you mean?” You asked, “I don’t recall ever calling you that before..” you said. “Well, you kinda talk in your sleep..” Sam said with a wide smirk on his face. Dean burst out laughing once your face showed your reaction. “WHY DO YOU THINK I KNEW HED BE SO OK WITH IT!?” Dean said practically wheezing. You were shocked, “how often did I do it?” You ask. “Often.” Sam said plainly with a smile on his face. You looked horrified to say the least. “By the way, you’re allowed to call me Sammy” Sam started, “but only if I can call you my love” he finished with a smirk. You turned red and nodded, “sounds good with me, Sammy.” You said.

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #SPN #supernatural

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bulletproofscales · 1 year

Text

monster fucking march 5 - bulbs, spikes and bumps (namkook)

oh i took my sweet time with this one because it was SO out of my comfort zone!! but i ende dup really liking the dynamic i was able to wrtie. which is kinda what the challenge is about!! tho fr now ill preassur emyself to psot everyday for the rest of march to get to all 10 prompts!! wish me luck :,)

tags: intersex jungkook , jungkook has both genitals , mentions of female genitalia , monster genitals , monster pussy , trans man namjoon , ftm namjoon , post-phalloplasty namjoon , trans dick namjoon , first times , chubby namjoon

3.4k (no wonder it took me forever )

AO3 LINK

“Looking for someone into cock biting-”

No.

“Is there any sadist dtf my ass that has this weird medical condition-”

No!

Jungkook’s hands abandon the keyboard as if it were on fire.

He can’t do this. But he has to.

Already in his mid twenties, Jungkook hasn’t gone past the occasional hand job back when he was just starting college. Back when he knew something was off but never had the urge to experiment and find out exactly what.

Needless to say, it was a very painful first fingering experience, for all the wrong reasons.

Yes, he’s heard people with vaginas say it can hurt the first time. But he didn’t expect his fingers to barely fit. Scrunching up his face as curling them forward and back only seems to make the squeezing worse.

Jungkook knew he was intersex, his mother made a very conscious effort to explain it to him. He has both genitals and he’s gone his life mostly in normality. All of his biology was male except for the vulva behind his sack; so he lived his life normally. Intersex people exist and he doesn’t have to go around telling people, he doesn’t owe that to anyone!

Though… He does panic when in a wild tipsy night by himself he wants to experiment fingering himself, copious amounts of lube as he reaches between his lips; thighs spread open and anticipation pumping his heart.

And when he pulls out to see his fingers swollen and red. It was a bit of a moodkill. If not, the thing that sent Jungkook into cardiac arrest.

Yes, he knows the rest of his biology is all relatively normal. That he could easily just have standard sex in any position without having to involve the anomaly on his body. But now, as if being intersex hadn’t been enough of a stigma for him to overcome, now he has to worry about people finding said pussy he shouldn't have in the first place, has weird hard bumps in it!

His mom was a fumbling mess when he interrogated her over the phone. Something about her making a mistake, falling for some succubus-like man thing, and some of his genes passing onto Jungkook!

So Jungkook’s vagina has bumps, apparently.

He hasn’t had much sex at all after that.

Though redacting this message was becoming a harder task than he had anticipated. Not even anonymity and a strong vpn were enough to make the shame he felt wash away. Writing and deleting and re-writing just to delete again in exhaustion.

And he’s becoming desperate. And lonely.

That's where he finds himself now. In a very deep corner of the internet. An old abandoned website with only a few people in it, describing different genitalia anomalies. As if he was gonna find anyone like him. Jungkook didn’t need to find anyone like him though. He just needed to find someone… willing.

He needs a drink.

It ends up being 5 drinks until Jungkook’s drunken inspiration takes hold of him. Writing an obscene message and posting it shamelessly before he plops on the bed; knocked out by the weird cocktail of anxiety, and alcohol that tired him out.

At least he is relieved he didn’t actually post his number online for a group of strangers. But still inside this obscure forum thing, a little bell shows on his chats. Flinging already, he reaches to click it.

With horror, Jungkook is reminded of his last night’s endeavor when a notification of a message from the same dark website shows up on his phone.

“Hello Im JUngkoook, my vagina has liek bumps in it or sumthing! you dont have to be into it!!!!! as long asd youre down with having sex w me in anywway shape or form (i ahve a penis too ;))) !! im just despedrate ok? text me if your interesdted!! !! :DDD”

icantfeelmydickwhenimwithyou: hi! i dont know if you were serious or not, but if youre from seoul, im a bit desperate and more than ok with… your situation.

icantfeelmydickwhenimwithyou: we wouldnt have to like fuck on first encounter but if you wanna chat im interested :]

Well she fell for a succubus. She can’t tell Jungkook shit.

He stares in awe. Jungkook’s parents have given him so many talks throughout all of his teenage internet friendships about the dangers of the internet and all the creeps that lay within. But Jungkook is actively seeking them out now. Not only that, but he wants to meet with one too. Have sex with them!

Jungkook’s mom would not be proud.

jkabtthecockbiting: i /am/ from seoul

jkabtthecockbiting: honestly…if youre ok to fucking right away id skip the chitchat.

His confidence dissipates when the stranger replies immediately.

Jungkook wasn’t dumb enough to give him his address. Or too agree to go to “Namjoon’s” as he learnt is his supposed name. So they agreed to a love hotel on the outskirts of Seoul. Not the safest place around, but Jungkook can defend himself! He hits the gym! He boxes! That's what he tries to remind himself at least, as he finds himself outside the sketchy area on a random Thursday night.

icantfeelmydickwhenimwithyou: cutting straight to the point huh

And maybe this stranger online posing no hesitation to meet him, should've been a red flag. His mother would be very disappointed. But Jungkook needs to feel wanted. And if a creep sadist perv on Reddit is the one to make him feel that way. Then they meet.

He does regret not having asked for some sort of photo or social media. Jungkook may not be desperate enough to fuck a 70 year old man. But he doubts an old man would’ve figured out a way through underground fetish chat rooms, right? Right.

“Jungkook, right?” Oh.

It's cold, he has his arms crossed over himself trying to protect himself from the falling snow while keeping contact with everyone who passes by. 10:30pm outside, that's what they had agreed on. Of course Jungkook not only got there at 9:50, but had booked a room in the hotel for the night. And now has to think about how he will tell Namjoon that he expects him to pay half of it too… Is Jungkook even allowed to request that? This stranger is the one doing a favor for him.

Even if he hears the steps approaching him, making his head snap up, Jungkook is startled anyways. The stranger must recognize that same jitteriness on himself.

Out of everything he’s imagined, this isn’t what he considered Namjoon would look like. Gentle but broad rounded shoulders, only a slimmer bit taller than Jungkook. Padded chin with some patchy stubble and pillowy body showing through the thick layer of clothing. Pear shaped body clinging to his shirt and jeans; despite the flannel and jacket, it still shows. He smiles a bit, plump lips catching Jungkook’s attention more than his body; dimples showing through.

“I uh… I already booked a room.” He speaks from behind the broad expanse of soft shoulders. Namjoon turned to look over his shoulder, smiling surprised.

“Y-yeah.” He can’t help but grin, feeling the release of tension of seeing this real life 20-30 something person with him; a real, friendly-looking, human. “Namjoon?”

“That's me.” Namjoon offers his hand and Jungkook eagerly takes it, satisfied with the warmth emanating from this man. “Oh you’re freezing. Come on, let's go in.” He says it so casually as if they were getting into his home; it's a bit relaxing as he follows Namjoon without letting go of his big warm hand. Like the rest of him.

“Oh! You prepared for everything! Nice.” Even if his reaction is positive, Jungkook can’t help but feel that familiar anxiety slip through. Is he being too eager? Overprepared? He can only smile timidly and nod as Namjoon makes his way to the desk, asking for a reservation to his name for him; and Jungkook lets himself find refuge behind the mass of the other man. Feels nice.

Namjoon’s smile at him is also very reassuring. “No, no you’re alright.” There's a chuckle attached to the end of his sentence and everything. “I’m not particularly into it. Or I mean, I never tried!” He adds quickly.

Namjoon maneuvers his way through the awkwardness easily. While Jungkook only speaks when they’re in the privacy of the hallway together.

“So… You're into bumpy holes?” He doesn’t bother being subtle. Though he does feel a bit guilty in the way Namjoon chokes on his own spit; but not guilty enough to hide his giggling. “Sorry, too much?”

“I’m your first I get it.” Jungkook reassures smiling.

“But uh… I had bottom surgery about a year ago. And it's safe to have sex, but I still need a bit… uh, more, to really feel anything. Until the nerves heal at least.” Jungkook can only stare a bit wide eyed nodding.

There's something so… relieving about hearing Namjoon isn’t ‘normal’ either. A smile slowly grows on his face. He’s never been with a trans person. But walking with Namjoon now, it just makes perfect sense that they found each other.

“Hopefully I’ll be of help then.” His smile must be contagious because Namjoon is grinning back at him, gentler than last time. “Won’t it hurt the stitching?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Oh no no. Most of the stitching is gone, and the scarring made the skin really tough.” He explains before his smile widens more, a little bit of confidence oozing off him. “You did your homework.”

“You’re not the only one that looked for bottom surgeries!” Jungkook accuses with a finger that pokes at Namjoon’s pillowy bicep. Their giggling rudely echoing through the hallway.

“This is our room.” Laughter still clings to his voice as he gestures to the room. “I’m kinda scared, never been in one of these.” He confesses.

“I can still appreciate it!” He whines but the laughter makes it less serious. Jungkook is starting to worry less about their night together, and more about if the other customers will file a complaint about them. Which feels a lot better. The door opens and Jungkook prepares himself to be grossed out.

“Does it look like I have?”

“That was the anxiety, Namjoon.” Jungkook deadpans earning another wave of giggles.

They turn to each other in pleasant awe, smiling softly in the brief moment of silence. Jungkook catches Namjoon’s eyes glancing down towards his lips before their eyes meet again.

“Oh!” “This is so much better than I expected.”

“Me too.”

He wouldn’t be able to tell you who leaned first, all Jungkook knows is it is his own back pressing the door shut close; once the eager weight of Namjoon’s body presses flush against his. Softened belly and chest engulfing him in warmth as Jungkook cups his face, feeling big hands cup at his waist and squeeze. Coaxing a moan to vibrate for his lips to be swallowed by Namjoon.

This is where he would start to feel nervous, jittery over not letting himself get to enjoy too much. Jungkook would have to stop them before it gets too far, before he has to explain himself; make excuses for his body. But he doesn’t have to, not when Namjoon’s hands softly caress the hem of Jungkook’s shirt. Stripping his jacket and shirt alike, leaving him bare.

Goosebumps break down his back from the feeling of the cold wall against his skin; but Namjoon’s warm hands tug him closer and away from it. Jungkook’s muscular thigh slots between Namjoon’s thicker ones in an attempt to stabilize himself. A bit harshly but it seemed to do the trick for the other; moaning deeply into Jungkook’s lips.

Jungkook doesn’t feel like covering up, he feels like revealing Namjoon too.

His own hands strip his jacket off before letting his hands get a feel of his tubby torso, pudgy and soft to the touch. Jungkook’s hands are desperate trying to memorize the curve and thickness of his waist, and Namjoon’s chuckle into the kiss does nothing to help. Confidence making his dick twitch in desperation; which he is sure Namjoon can feel, from the way they’re pressed together.

“F-fuck… Fuck can I?” He whispers as his hands trace to Jungkook’s belly, settled on the waistband of his pants; where Jungkook’s bulge is beginning to show. He nods urgently, his own hands aggressively tugging down at Namjoon’s sweatpants; everything on his body jiggling softly with the strength of Jungkook’s pulling. Too preoccupied licking his lips at the sight of Namjoon’s semi to worry about himself.

“Pleasantly surprised.” The flirty giggle clings to his voice as his hand curiously caresses the chubby bottom of Namjoon’s belly, trailing down to wrap around his dick. Both of them looked down at Jungkook’s tattooed hand.

“You’re hard.” Jungkook whispers with an awed smile and very shameless staring.

“Surprised?” He retorts with humor and endearment.

Harsh, he’d told Jungkook. So biting his lips, he squeezes Namjoon’s shaft, letting his nails sink a little into the skin in a way he’d never dare to try on himself. But Namjoon seems to melt into it, his thick thighs shivering in what Jungkook can only assume is a mix of pleasure and pain? He moans like its only pleasure.

“We don’t have to do anything.” His thumbs rub soothing circles along his squeezed knees. And oh, how could Jungkook pass up an opportunity like this? When is he ever going to find someone like Namjoon again?

“I wanna see too…” His voice sounds significantly deeper than Jungkook remembers it. Making his heart skip a beat as he looks up to Namjoon; whose half lidded eyes do nothing to calm his stammering pulse. Warm hands squeezing gently at his waist; so much softer than Jungkook’s treatment.

Guiding him towards the bed, their legs still tangling together as Jungkook lets himself fall on the surprisingly soft mattress; Namjoon standing in front of him. He instinctively presses his thighs together in an attempt to hide his vulva. But those same big hands are rubbing at his knees as Namjoon carefully kneels on the bed. The hunger in his eyes dissipated for something softer.

Jungkook has to really bite into his lip to stop a shaky whine from slipping, so many years of self neglect leaving him needy and so sensitive. But even so, a choked whimper slips past. “Can I?” Namjoon asks, regardless of the desperation in Jungkook’s eyes when he snaps up to look at him again.

“I want to.” Jungkook confesses vulnerably. “Just, uh… force of habit.” He chuckles a bit at himself, taking the first step as his thighs begin to spread for the dreamy man. The rush of adrenaline makes his breathing already a little heavy. Biting his lip preparing himself for the worst.

But Namjoon’s expression only melts with lust, exhaling as he doesn’t take his eyes off Jungkook’s crotch. “Oh look at you…” He whispers and it feels like his voice could rattle at his insides. Warm hands still very much secured on his muscular thighs. Jungkook can feel his face burn as he forces himself to look up once Namjoon’s fingers abandon his leg to caress his lips, tentatively. Only the tips of fingers feeling him up.

“You're so wet…” He mumbles against Jungkook’s lips. Only getting a desperate moan in response. His jaw dropping, looking up at Namjoon with eyes that struggle to stay open. “I can’t finger you but–but we’ll take it slow, yeah?” His thumb presses against his clit, and Jungkook’s eyes roll with a trembling whine.

“Yes!” All self control leaves him, body trembling, begging for Namjoon to do something more than to caress the shaven lips of his pussy. “Yes Namjoon, please-” The sentence dies in his throat as Namjoon’s fingers press between his lips, rubbing up and down without pressing in just yet. Wet and sloppy noises coming from within him; only more accessible as his dick hardens against his flat tummy.

Namjoon smiles at the shivering man beneath him, taking the liberty of leaning closer and really making Jungkook’s legs spread. Opening to fit the girth of Namjoon’s hips; calves squishing into the chub a bit. Plump lips take a hold of his, greedily kissing as Jungkook is engulfed by the softness of Namjoon’s torso.

He has to make an effort to stay lucid enough to respond. Nodding quickly before he can even coordinate to speak, stuttering as his own hips grind against Namjoon’s fingers. Stabbing jabs of pleasure spreading through his navel. “Yes–Yes please!” Shaky hand presses to Namjoon’s cheek just to pull him in for another kiss, to let his weight press him down to the mattress. For the first time in a while, Jungkook allows himself to feel empty, to yearn for the warmth he so desperately craves. Worsening when Namjoon pulls his fingers away.

Something in his stomach tightens in anticipation, for it all to go invariably wrong. But Namjoon aligns himself, taking a curious look at where their crotches meet, sliding on a condom before he starts pressing in. Frowning in concentration, while Jungkook’s heart goes rigid. Gasping quietly at the stretch, he feels his bulbs press onto Namjoon’s dick in a tight fit. Jungkook can only imagine the pressuring squeeze they’re pushing onto Namjoon’s dick; even if he feels more stretched than he ever dared to try.

Even as his heart raises to Jungkook’s throat he stares at Namjoon wide eyed. Taking in his groans, trying to read if it's the pain or the pleasure overpowering his senses. Though Namjoon’s continuous, even if slow, sliding into him is somewhat of a good sign. Regardless, he asks.

“G–Good?” The insecurity shows in his voice even throughthe heavy breathing and fucked-out stutter. Namjoon opens his eyes for him with a haze of their own; his voice sounding a little breathless itself when he responds.

“I won’t.” He whispers leaning to take Jungkook’s lips into another kiss, both of them smiling into eachothers mouths before his hips begin to grind. Their kiss is sloppy enough that it's not able to silence the moan of pleasure out of Namjoon’s throat. Unable to help himself as a rhythm begins to build. As Jungkook begins to lose himself, his insides churning in a pleasure that takes him from within. Feeling through the nubs inside him every inch of Namjoon’s skin, his own bumps, his own imperfections. Filling him to the brim with quickening thrusts.

“Oh Jungkook… It feels amazing.” He whispers leaning so their noses brush, fully bottomed out he can feel the way Namjoon’s entire body shivers in pleasure. “Y-you?” His smile is giddy even if it's shaky; like he is holding back.

It feels ridiculous for him to even ask! Jungkook is nodding before the words come out again. “So, so good, keep going!” He can’t help but grin excited, nodding in encouragement; seemingly contagious as a wider smile spreads on Namjoon’s own face.

He is beyond controlling the string of moans that Namjoon coaxed out of his chest with each thrust. Warmth, all he feels is warmth. From the inside out, form the jiggling soft body pressed on top of his, weighting on him like a blanket. Namjoon’s own moans, deep and lustful, making his eyes roll back as his legs hang heavy and useless at either side. Dick rubbed against the bottom of Namjoon’s belly, sinking into it deliciously.

Jungkook never could’ve imagined, he could ever feel this good. That he could ever cause this much pleasure to someone else.

It's pointless to try to warn Namjoon about his orgasm. Legs squeezing into the sides of his chubby belly as he spurts against the very bottom roll. “D–Don’t– Don’t stop!” Is all he manages to say. Hands cupping Namjoon’s thick neck howling in pleasure as he continues. Shamelessly enjoying after so many years of deprivation.

He never wants it to end.

“F-fuck –fuck don’t say that, Jungkook. I’m – I’m going to-” Namjoon’s own speech is cut off with a shivered moan, his entire body trembling and spasming as he grinds his hips into Jungkook’s bumped heat.

And for a moment everything stills, looking at one another with widened eyes. Like it's the first time in a while either of them have been able to feel this amount of pleasure.

The first, but definitely not the last.

#omg posting this was a PAIN #tumblr i hate you #monster fucking march #monster fucking #mosnter genitalia #instersex jungkook #trans man namjoon #depictions of female genitalia #bottom surgery namjoon #first times

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