#love that bitch. would love to trip him when he's walking down the hallway

[2kmps]

BAD HABIT

hitman!tōji fushiguro x reader | 17k

story summary; tōji wasn't expecting to find himself in the stairwell of an apartment complex after a hit went bad. you weren't expecting to take care of a handsome, wounded man in your bathroom. it was perfect alignment for very bad things to happen, especially once he started getting cozy on your couch and refused to leave. neither of you expected feelings to intertwine. for tōji, it was a waste of time; for you, it'd get in the way of caring for your young nephew. there's a steep price for loving a man like him.

story warnings; dark content, hitman!au, there is a plot, tōji is tōji 💀, implications of past negligence, tōji smokes, gunshot wound, descriptions of wounds, some graphic details, mc is a stand-in guardian for their nephew, mc makes bad choices but tries their best, parental abandonment, mention of institutionalization, tōji hittin' it from behind, implied stalking, guilt tripping, depression, tons of sex, prose + detail heavy, unpleasant names used (bitch, psycho, whore). dividers are used to break up scenes.

thank you, @ceruleansol for the wonderful proofreading. you're always a joy to work with 🩷

read the warnings above. events in this story are not indicative of personal viewpoints. mdni!!

if you enjoyed this piece, please reblog it!!

"Hey. There's a dead guy in the stairwell."

At first, there had been silence when Tōji walked in through a mangled-up door. He wasn't thinking about where it would lead him, only that it was pockmarked all over with indentations from someone's knuckles—a long history of them. He had put his fist into doors like that before. They weren't built as solidly as they used to be and collapsed with enough force.

He realized then, with some wrench of disgust, that the dents resembled the craters in skin. Those deep ones that some of his brokers had—ugly little men who sweat too much and smelled as bad as they looked. The sight of it no longer enchanted him, taking him from his trance to walk inside and look around.

Where he stood was lit dimly yellow, a sort of throwback to all of the sleazy hostels he had afforded a night or two in. A second or two later, contemplating it more as he backed himself into a wall and sunk down the length of it until his bottom hit the floor and knees split open, this murky lighting was just like all those backrooms where he made all his deals.

Another look around—he saw a staircase descending into darkness. The shift from hazy yellow to complete black was not a perfect gradient. The air just simply turned inky. Above him, more staircases climbed into a dark oblivion, perhaps even more ominous than the one that led down.

With spotting a couple of doors on the upper floors, numbers embellished into metal plaques that had lost their luster a long time ago, tarnished with speckles of rust as though water had sat on its face too long, he understood he had wandered into an apartment complex.

"This is fucking embarrassing." His voice reverberated back at him. It sounded as lonely as it did bitter. "Guess that's what I get for pissing off that slimebag."

Tōji had antagonized the wrong man this time, a hit gone awry. The order had been received in the backroom of some dirty bar in Shibuya. After catching an eyeful of some women nursing cheap drinks, some men crowding the billiards table while dropping yen into their pockets, he had made it through to the back at the end of a long hallway.

Whoever was hiring for this kill was too much of a coward to show his face and sent some shifty-looking guys in black suits to conduct business instead. One was broad-shouldered, bald, and wore blackout sunglasses in a scarcely lit room, while the other was a scrawny bastard with bleached hair put into cornrows. It wasn't a good look.

Either way, they said a few words—asking him who he was and who was sponsoring him before being handed a crisp envelope ready to burst at the edges.

With half the money in his hands, he didn't give a shit about any of the other details. He got a name, Morimoto Kazuma, and a couple of rendezvous spots to stake out.

He walked out while they were still talking, and now, after the fact, Tōji conceded they probably had something valuable to say. Because that sweaty jackass ended up coming with an entire army ready to grovel and suck his dick when he snapped his fingers.

What a joke. I can't believe that piece of shit managed to catch me off-guard. Now, Tōji was on the run, sitting in some decrepit stairwell with black and purple blooming beneath his clothes. He cradled thick fingers over his side, blood oozing through every crevice of his hand, filling the seams of his fingernails.

That was when he heard it—a kid's voice stirring life into the ghostly stairwell like the blare of a car horn. It was sharp and sudden, jolting him to attention, dark eyes tracking down the sound of it.

The brat was seven or eight at best, probably around the same age as—

Shit, what was his name? I keep forgetting. Hiromi? Kenji? Yuki? Nah, none of those sound right.

"Oh"—the kid frowned, tongue tutting as though disappointed by Tōji's movements—"never mind! He's not dead! He's just some bum sleeping in the stairwell!"

"Hey, who are you talking about?" Tōji still had enough left in him to put a kid six feet under. It wouldn't be the first time. "Little shit."

Heavier footfalls echoed around him, obliterating whatever semblance of quiet there once had been. Your feet moved hastily down the steps, body winding tight against the railing, hands pulling up flakes of black paint that had come loose with decay.

Tōji only looked at you once you slowed, coming to a stop on the same stair as the kid for a pulse before descending the rest of the way down to his side.

Maybe it was just the blood loss or the fact he hadn't eaten or slept in three days, but you were a sight for sore eyes. The air around him turned cold, a breeze sweeping his bangs around his face as the scent of you wafted under his nostrils.

He liked the way you smelled.

"You've had a rough go, haven't you? Holy shit—" You had scoured his body fast, suddenly keen to the crimson leaking through his fingers. His black shirt had adhered to the wound at that point, doing some little part in stifling the worst of his bleeding. "You need a hospital. You need an ambulance. Hinata, call an ambul—"

Tōji pulled you back to the floor when you tried to get up, large fist wound tight in your clothes. "No. I don't need a hospital. I need a bathroom, some antiseptic, and some food."

You sat back down to pry his dirty fingers off of your ironed blouse, surprising him by your agreeability when you lifted his armpit on your shoulder, waving down Hinata to come assist you.

"We don't need the neighbors calling the police," you said.

"I don't want to be late for school again." Hinata was two steps from the landing, palms wringing his backpack straps.

You sighed. "I'll buy you ice cream."

Tōji watched him lean his head a little to the left, just like a dog attuned to particular trigger words. Had it not been for the gaping hole nestled in his ribs and a surge of hard static filling the inside of his head, it might've been cute.

"I want cheesecake."

It was non-negotiable.

Your back teeth clicked anxiously, unprepared for the attempted bribery to go awry as it had. In the end, you agreed to get him what he wanted while gesturing viciously for him to take Tōji's other side.

There wasn't a lot an eight-year-old could do except use what little weight was in his body to push against Tōji's back. Hinata was average sized, teetering on bigger than his peers, so that leverage propelling Tōji forward kept him from stumbling back down to the beginning when his hand slipped on the crumbly railing a time or two.

"The bathroom is just over here." You grunted, barely able to keep yourself upright with the bulk of Tōji's weight now on you. He walked his palm along the adjacent wall as though it did something to help.

It was better than admitting he was at the mercy of some nobodies in their apartment.

"Hinata! Antiseptic!" you bellowed.

The front door shut and small feet shuffled across wood, a muffled thump, thump, thump following his motions until he appeared behind you with a frosted plastic bottle. "Antiseptic! Can I watch?"

You took the bottle, told him no and he obeyed, staying on the other side of the door that you nudged with your toes. Soon, Tōji was situated on the toilet seat. "Can you take off your shirt?"

He thought about making a comment; you had a nice face, so you probably looked good even when your expression twisted all around. But, instead, he followed your order and let you help slowly peel the second skin off of him. The black fabric had been so tight, gripping to sweat in every curvature, especially to where blood had seeped through and stuck to him like wet paper.

"Just about, just about"—your teeth were on show, gnashing until balls of lint were stragglers amongst a faint tint of red—"okay good. We got it."

He took a breath and picked up a pair of tweezers you had next to the sink. "Mind if I use these?"

Your teeth were dry behind your lips, licking them came naturally. "Is there something inside? Glass?"

"A bullet." Tōji smiled when you winced. "Make me feel better later. You should step out if you don't want to see this."

"I do!" Hinata cried, using his head to push the crack in the door wider. "You got shot?! What did you do? I wanna see!"

A surge of heat shot to your face, amazed by his lack of tact. All it took was a couple of flicks to his forehead and the door was slammed shut by the full force of your foot. "You're getting a day off from school and cheesecake. Chill out."

"Ugh!" he whined, weight folding against the paper-thin door. For a second, you thought it might actually collapse.

Tōji had ignored the exchange between the pair of you, background noise he found somewhat soothing in that moment. The bullet hadn't struck anything vital; that much was obvious from the fact he was alive and not spurting a geyser of rust red everywhere or vomiting it. It still went deep.

"How did you get shot?" You were coming at him with an old hand towel, fingers covered as you held it flush below the hole in his body. It wept blood and something viscous and tinged yellow. "I really think you need to get this looked at."

He kept reaching, face unflinching. "Nah."

After several minutes, the bullet was extracted and abandoned in the sink along with your tweezers. It left splatter against the white porcelain, reaching the drab beige backsplash behind the faucet and rectangular mirror just above that. You didn't want to think about cleaning it up later.

"Shouldn't you get stitches?" You weren't dissuaded yet, keeping the towel secured until it felt heavy and damp.

Tōji didn't like how much you were nagging, but this beat rotting away in a stairwell. "You got a sewing kit?"

"Wha—well, yeah," you hesitated, calling out for Hinata to get supplies from the utility cupboard in the kitchen. His bare feet padded away and returned in seconds; the door pushed ajar so he could wedge the convenience store kit through the slim gap.

"Cheesecake?" Hinata whispered into the slot, arranging his face against it so one of his eyes could peer inside. "Cheeeeeeesecake?"

Tōji took the kit from your hands, digging through it for the largest needle. "Hey, kid, you got any fishing line?"

You stared blankly. "Fishing line? No, he wouldn't—"

"Yeah! I do!" Hinata thrust himself away from the door with his arms, feet stomping all the way across the apartment to his bedroom where a greater commotion made you flinch. You were sure he was turning over totes of things in his closet, ripping them open, and spilling them out onto the floor.

It wasn't something you needed to worry about because Hinata was an impressively self-sufficient child; he liked to keep his space tidy and organized. When he was six, he had already started arranging his dinosaurs and animal toys by species. When he started school, he tucked away everything on his little desk so he could lay out his workbooks and pencils.

"He's pretty handy." Tōji said, impressed, when Hinata trotted back in. He steadied against your shoulders, hand outstretched with a spool of translucent thread that Tōji took and fixed through the eye of his needle.

He tied it off at the end, stopping short of piercing through layers of skin and subcutaneous tissue. You and the kid were observing with quiet anticipation, the whites of your eyes showing, breaths paced.

Tōji didn't think it was possible to be self-conscious, but now he felt the need to draw the shower curtain over himself.

"Weren't you getting cheesecake or something?"

Hinata used you as a launch pad and bounced upright, small fists bunched into the back of your shirt. "Yeah! You promised! I've been helping out all morning!"

"Oh my god, you're so impatient," you drawled, flicking him on the forehead again. "This is why your dad dumped you here with me and took off."

"Well," he said and puffed up, chest and cheeks inflating as he backed out the doorway, "Dad said he almost left me with Grandma and Grandpa because you have bad taste in men!"

He swiveled on his toes and sprinted away before a roll of toilet paper made contact. You had half the mind to chase him all the way into the streets, but you were already nursing a flush of heat in your face and neck when you noticed Tōji leering at you.

"Cute kid." He said, needle unsullied.

You tucked your lower lip inside your mouth, slowly letting it roll back out moistened. "I'll just—I'll just go. Do you want cheesecake?"

His shoulders sank forward, elbows perched across his knees. "Nah. I want real food. You got anything?"

"If instant noodles and fried cabbage are your thing." You expected the weird look he gave you. It wasn't the most orthodox combination to have sitting around, stinking up your fridge. "I work two jobs. I just haven't had the time to go lately. I usually just give Hinata money to grab what he wants from the convenience…"

Tōji twirled the needle between pinched fingers, dark eyes that same kind of lackluster Hinata's got when he had stopped listening to what you were saying.

"Anyway"—you got to your feet and pretended to dust off your knees—"it’s there if you want it."

"I'll take it."

A lull drifted in between you and Tōji. He had nothing else to say to you; meanwhile you were taking in the sight of everything for the first time. One thing you had always lacked in life was a sense of discernment, a simple wiring in your brain to know what to prioritize and what would inevitably put you in a corner. It made more sense to be on your toes, to act first, think as you go, try to haggle with repercussions later.

You still did it, even now, as an adult thrust into the workforce, and bills, and taxes, and looking after a kid who could already do arithmetic well beyond his age group.

A man was bleeding at the bottom of the stairs, and now he was waiting for you to leave so he could stitch shut a gunshot wound. Knowing that you had made a grave mistake by bringing him into your home—with a mouthy boy—was obvious, but now what were you supposed to do to rectify it?

"When you're finished doing that," you said, motioning to the oozing hole next to his ribs when he looked up, "It'd be best if you left."

Tōji didn't feel any conviction behind your words. There was an inexplicable attraction, like gravity pulling you towards him because you were curious—because he was something different, something fresh, something you hadn't seen before.

Life with kids meant getting swept into the endless cycle of mundane and menial things that always aged people faster. Tōji, in these moments, felt grateful he had gotten out of that mess before those kids—shit, he still couldn't remember their names—turned any of his hair gray.

You were ensnared, and all it had taken was a bleeding on your bathroom floor a little bit.

"You want me to leave?" Tōji smoothed two fingers along the length of the fishing line, tip of his tongue peeking out his lips. "Sure. I'll do that."

━━━━━━━━━━━

The whole of two weeks might as well have been consolidated into two days because you felt like you hadn't been able to take a breath. Between the demands of your jobs, and the tribulations following a school-age boy through life, you didn't have the energy to constantly confront Tōji about still being camped out on your living room furniture weeks later.

He rotated through an unpredictable schedule that had him asleep on your couch at odd hours and ambling out the front door right when you put Hinata to bed.

Some days he was a set fixture in your apartment, a lamppost equivalent meant to decorate the space between two seats—except for your couch. Other days, it felt like he had never been there to begin with, a figment you had dreamt of to take up space so you'd feel less alone.

"If you're going to stay here, you need to chip in with chores." It was a reasonable request, and Tōji must've thought so too in spite of a disdainful curl in his lip because he took the mop handle you shoved at him. "Hinata already does a lot because I'm always busy. Earn your keep."

That sort of talk went over two ways with Tōji—either he complied because it kept you from nagging him, and in turn, you'd pick up the odds and ends he asked for, or he tried flirting with you and pouted around all day when he'd be shot down.

"You need to find somewhere else to go, Tōji." At any chance you got, you'd remind him that his time in your home was short-lived, a blessed respite from whatever brought him to you in the first place. "I'm serious. You can't just keep hanging out on my couch. You're gonna make it sag."

He let his head loll sideways, arms sprawled out over the back of it. You were behind him, pinned by his eyes when he lifted his face to see you.

"You have a big enough bed to share." His smile was salacious, cheeky, even, but you doubted there was any real intent there. "It helps having me around to look after the place, right? It's not like I make it into a pigsty."

For how boorish Tōji turned out to be, you would give him the credit that he didn't dirty up things very much. Your bathroom had been an isolated incident, and one evening within the past two weeks, he left a few beer cans on the floor that Hinata picked up for recycling.

His only other offense was hovering like a vulture on the nights you'd cook dinner.

"Can't you make him leave? I want to watch cartoons but he's always hogging the remote." Hinata was telling you during an outing on one of your scarce weekends off. "He watches stupid stuff, too."

You sighed, scraping frosting from your slice of cake. It was a nice afternoon out with your nephew at a cafe some blocks from the apartment. A mellow breeze caressed the back of your neck, whipped around the hair over Hinata's eyes, and weaved through trees nearby, making the leaves whisper and tremble.

It was all beautiful, yet both of you were stuck on Tōji being a wedge in your lives.

"Why won't he leave?" Hinata tried again, fork plowing through thick layers of his strawberry cake. "Have you actually tried?"

You believed that if Hinata were ever tested, he'd probably qualify as a genius—or gifted, at the very least. His mother had been that way too, once, in her moments of clarity: smart and quick, eager to find patterns and problem-solve.

He was everything that his father and your entire side of the family never quite was.

It was hard, sometimes, to keep it in your mind that he was only eight. No matter where he was developmentally, he was still a child and still saw the world through the lens of one—not an adult, not a genius, not a boy with wisdom beyond his years—

A child.

This entire ordeal with Tōji was proof of that. It was hard enough for you to process on your own, let alone explain the complexities of it to an eight-year-old whom you asked to do basic addition and subtraction for you at the grocery store.

All he saw was a bulky, mean man who wouldn't let him watch cartoons—not the intricacies behind why that man had to pull a bullet out of his own body instead of getting help at a hospital.

"I think he's hiding." Hinata surprised you with that comment, teeth bearing down as he smiled around his fork. "I think that's pretty cool. He's like a secret agent or something."

It was an obvious angle. You weren't sure why you hadn't considered it before. "Why do you think he's hiding?"

"Well"—Hinata pulled a piece of his own hair from the next forkful he grabbed. He pocketed the cake in his cheek—"he’s super secretive and if you ask him about stuff, he'll act like he doesn't hear you. Sometimes, I get up in the middle of the night for some water, and he's leaving or standing in the kitchen eating."

You rolled a glazed strawberry to one side of your plate. "It is kinda weird, isn't it?"

"Really weird." Hinata nodded. "Do you think he's a bad guy? Do you think he's part of a gang?"

The one time you had seen Tōji's chest to help cover his wound, there had been no tattoos. It'd be lying if you said you hadn't tried grabbing eyefuls of him when you could. How often was it that you got to see something like that?

"I think we can rule out a gang." Your certainty seemed to reinvigorate Hinata as he slumped into his chair and took more eager bites from his dessert. "He doesn't really have the look or attitude. Whatever he does, I think it's solo."

"Oh, so like a hitman!" Hinata said.

Your utensil went cold as it lay abandoned next to the slice of cake you had barely carved a dent into. This was all some pretty heavy stuff you were discussing with a kid, but the insight he was giving you wouldn't have crossed your mind otherwise.

Tōji was a strange man—strange in ways that made you uneasy, made you wonder whether it'd be worth sticking Hinata into some extracurriculars, lodge him up with friends during longer shifts. That would be ideal, albeit unfair to him.

Hinata liked to play with his own toys, sleep in his own bed, and do things on his terms without your intervention into everything. He'd always been that way.

Some part of you felt so sure that Tōji, whoever he actually was, wouldn't dream of putting a hand on a child he playfully bullied with a television remote.

A week later, that conversation with Hinata still replayed in your mind while lapping your way through a tall can of beer. The door leading onto the balcony was wide, letting the brisk night air gush in, kept within earshot of the happenings inside. It was all muffled television chatter from a show Tōji had grown partial to and an occasional slosh of bathwater from Hinata capsizing ships because he was a kraken tonight.

Your apartment was on the sixth floor, a good spot just above the tree lines, so when you looked out, a glittering nightscape awaited with stuttering neon signage and warm light falling out like slanted pillars from buildings with windows. The tops of trees were thick, black silhouettes dancing fluidly with the wind, and you could hear sounds drift along with it as though ghosts whispered around you.

"Hey." Tōji's voice came with the acrid punch of smoke swirling under your nose. The wind took the smell away as fast as it had come, but you were already alert to him stepping out barefoot onto the balcony with you, the door sliding shut. "You've been out here forever. It's never a good sign if someone's thinking that deep about something."

You took a swig from your beer. "Keeping tabs on me now?"

Tōji had hijacked one from your supply as well, despite all the times you had told him not to. He pulled the tab and let it froth up. "Nope. I kept asking you to get me a beer, but you didn't hear me. Figured I'd see what was holding you up."

Your tongue probed along the back of your teeth in an act of restraint. Tōji was the type that got off on purposely antagonizing you just to see your reaction. He baited you with comments like that in his inflectionless drone—it drove you up the walls.

"How's that gunshot wound?" you challenged. "Healed up enough for you to find your own place soon?"

Tōji's eyes caught the shine off of the white fluorescent kitchen light spearing out through the glass doors, but they were still so dark—abysmal, almost. Two of his fingers were positioned weirdly around a cigarette, pinched like he didn't want the smell to seep into his skin. He kept his fist tight on that beer can.

"Still hurts like a bitch." He gave you an oily smile, a look that fit his face. "You gonna kick out a man still on the mend? That's pretty heartless."

It amazed you that he could unleash clapbacks like that without pause like he had memorized them from a book cover to cover and could recall them on command.

On rare occasions, you could do that too, be dealt a nasty comment about your child-rearing techniques from quiet tongues and sling back venom that was equally as unkind. With Tōji, on the other hand, you never could quite meet him in the middle—you'd sting with a rubber band, and he'd bring out a hammer and make you flinch.

That was how he kept getting away with using your beer to wash away the taste of smoke sticking to the roof of his mouth, how he still commandeered your living room and pantry—

You gave in.

He didn't take you seriously.

"I didn't know you smoked." Gray wisps and bright orange flickers sat right outside the corner of your eye, a good opportunity to change the topic. "Just don't do it inside."

"Yeah, yeah." Tōji's agitation was expelled with the smoke from his lungs. Despite how dark it was on the balcony, you saw the peaks of his chest sink inward as though he had been holding that breath for a while and finally needed to let it out.

Just then, he flipped the cigarette around with more of the brown filter exposed to you. He flicked ashes onto the floor. They dropped near his feet. "Here. You'd benefit from a few smokes with how uptight you are."

He wasn't holding it out to you like he wanted you to take it. You realized he was waiting for you to take a puff from his fingers, put your mouth over whatever he'd left behind.

"I'm good. I have my vice." Beer raised, you forced a smile.

Tōji pressed his lips back around the cigarette and shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Men like Tōji were plenty in the world, used to getting their way, relentless until they did. You knew this because you had already lived it before many times.

Bottom of the barrel, selfish men only looking out for their own interests. They came to you, not unlike gods descending to earth for those sad, wretched, and dying souls wanting to cling onto the fine fabric of anyone who'd save them.

You were desperate to be whisked away from the repetitious everyday grind. Their independence was revolutionary, eccentrism enticing like a starving rat lured to food molded around poison. You believed you could love them out of their egotism, and they'd give you the world because they had promised it.

But, in the end, you could bleed out on the floor while they watched red seep into grout in tile, and they would still demand more from you until your insides were dry and hollow and you were a husk.

"So, what's the story with the kid—"

"Hinata." you corrected him.

Tōji knocked ashes off over the railing. "Sure. What's the story there? He isn't yours, right?"

For a moment, you contemplated whether it was worth dredging up the past like that, especially with your audience of one being Tōji.

He had never cared before, so why now?

"My brother's kid." You said.

There was nothing better going on.

He seemed to want conversation.

Might as well.

"He showed up here one day, all dressed up in a suit with a briefcase. He said he had been promoted to an office overseas, and he couldn't afford to take Hinata with him.

"I don't know how much of it was actually because of that new job, and how much of it was to actually escape his family. Sometimes, people are willing to abandon everything to get away. He had been really good about sending money to me to help out with Hinata—in the beginning."

Tōji was hunkered down against the railing, his hulking size crunched sideways on one arm, cigarette snuffed on chipped paint. "Isn't that how it always goes?"

"Yeah, I guess"—you put your back to the railing and leaned hard—"that money was basically extra. All I had to do was work my regular job, make sure Hinata did okay, and that was it. My brother even made a point to talk to Hinata on the phone almost every night for a couple of months.

"Hinata had just turned six. He was already picking up after himself, getting dressed, making sandwiches when I'd sleep in. He was basically raising himself. I just had to handle the adult stuff." You continued, "I started wondering why a kid his age could already do all those things. Where was his mother? Why didn't he go to his grandparents instead? My life is shit; why is my brother forcing his young kid on me?"

Tōji wasn't looking at you anymore, but unlike other times, you could tell with how he paced his drinks that he was still tuned into the story. That felt good.

"The money stopped coming in about six months after I took over as Hinata's guardian. My brother stopped calling him around that time, too. I haven't been able to get in contact with him at all—phone, video calls, text, email, socials, our parents, his friends—nothing. He just… poof."

"He hardly looks bothered by it." Tōji meant Hinata, about how aloof he appeared to be to something that big looming over your lives.

You agreed. "He stopped asking about his dad a year ago. Hinata's a really smart kid, I think he knows—"

"—Dad's not coming home," Tōji finished for you. "Where's Mom during all of this? She dead or something?"

This time, you shrugged. "Last I heard, she was institutionalized somewhere. I think it started out as postpartum depression that just spiraled out of control after ignoring it for years. I don't know what the final straw was that put her in there, but I do know that Hinata does not speak about her."

Tōji had his cheek in hand. "Ah, another psycho bitch out traumatizing kids."

You didn't like how he said it but let the lukewarm bitterness from your beer settle on your tongue. "I wish her the best. It isn't easy."

"Right." He was staring at you now, a suggestive sort of look crawling up along his face. The sight of it made your stomach bunch and flutter, giving you the need to shuffle your feet around, tighten that area between your thighs to ease how much it ached. "Got any questions for me?"

"Do you have kids?" Clearly, it wasn't what he had anticipated you asking because it cleaned the expression right off his face. "The way you handle Hinata isn't the same as some other guys I've met. You have experience, don't you?"

Tōji settled back into an easygoing smile, confirmation enough.

"How old are they? What are their names?"

"He's around eight, maybe nine now. Lives with his mom outside Tokyo." If it hadn't been for him standing at full height and coming closer, you might have pressed for more. "I had a stepdaughter, but that's a mess I don't feel like getting into."

You considered widening the gap again, a wordless declaration to keep things cordial, appropriate for the sensitive situation he was in. He exuded more than an average man's mediocre confidence—this was power from knowing he had influence over you, having caught your eyes on him a few too many times lately for it to be a coincidence.

Tōji saw your longing and your discomfort sitting with it, a part of yourself you tried to deny for the sake of giving Hinata a good life—a better life than you had led for yourself up to that point. That was the thing about kids: It was no longer just about you and it never would be again. Some people couldn't reconcile that reality.

"Wait, Tōji." You couldn't look at him, the intensity of his eyes simultaneously too much to bear and electrifying. He was setting you on fire like a match to flame. "This isn't a good idea."

He had leaned down to your face, head stooped between his shoulders, lips so achingly near it would be nothing to drag him in. Hot air stirred across your skin, dampening it and smelling of stale smoke.

"So, what?" he said, echoing your thoughts aloud. "Push me away if you don't want it."

You didn't know if you wanted to be ravished by him or to assert yourself and shove him out of your space. One would lead to the ideal outcome, a solid boundary that let him know his place, but the other was what you really had your heart set on. You missed being wanted by someone.

Hinata made the decision for you by throwing open the sliding door so hard it rattled, dressed in clean nightclothes with a towel draped over his wet hair like a massive hood. That motivated Tōji to glance over, but he wasn't out of your face.

"You're not allowed to do that." Hinata said, brown eyes made smaller by a heavy brow and accusatory glare.

Tōji almost grinned. "Oh, yeah? Says who?"

Hinata stomped his foot and blurted, "The police! Kissing is illegal." He, of course, withered at the ridiculousness of his words after the fact.

"Wow." Tōji whistled, loud and slow. "That's a new one to me. You sure you're not just being a brat?"

Hinata simply bunched up his face while tossing his short hair with the towel, pieces of it defying gravity once he was finished.

He wasn't looking at Tōji anymore.

"I set three alarms for you tomorrow because I don't want to be late for school." This was a normal thing with him. Once, he had set six just to make sure you had no hope of getting that extra fifteen minutes. "I packed myself some curry for lunch. Can I get strawberry milk at the store tomorrow?"

He could ask you for water melted from the snowcaps of Mt. Fuji, and you would let your fingers turn frostbitten and black to get it for him.

"I'll think about it. I don't need the dentist to ask me why you're eight with a bunch of cavities."

Hinata spit through tightly cinched, vibrating lips, head hanging dejectedly, and led the way from the patio door and down the hallway to his bedroom. All at once, the arrest he had caused was lifted, and Tōji's weight and warmth pushed the bars of the railing deeper into your back.

His eyes lingered at the open space, maybe anticipating Hinata would come charging back to that spot. "Ballsy kid."

Your entire body flinched from the sensation of his large hand climbing along your spine, fingers squeezing together between your shoulder blades and splaying wide again to cradle the roundness of your head. He reeled your face back to him when you tried to turn away, struck with the same unease and excitement as before.

"What're you gonna do?" He could kiss you now, but your eyes were stuck to the sides, suddenly imbued with all the shyness of someone with far less experience. "Hey, you gonna look at me? You're not gonna tell me you've never been kissed, are you?"

Of course you had, just never by someone like Tōji. Something about his size, his confidence, his attitude—it just made you feel small, made you want to be malleable for him. Useable may have been a more daring word to apply here.

Tōji made a noise in his throat. It rumbled so hard you were convinced it coursed his arm and ran through his fingers on your head.

"It's pretty cute, not gonna lie." And then his lips were between yours. Your eyes shut, hands finding and gripping his strong biceps when more of his body pressed into you. Nothing about how he kissed you was gentle or clean; it was meant for him to convey how he wanted you, and that way wasn't chaste or wound in an embrace.

You let him maneuver your head however he pleased, let the strings of saliva linking your mouths snap and feel cold on your skin before he was back in for more. His tongue carried more of the smoke smell than the rest of his mouth, but you let him in eagerly and felt yourself stirring in your groin from how lewd the sounds were.

It was when your hands started to roam, sinking between your bodies to sneak the tie of his sweatpants loose that he withdrew from you altogether and took all his heat with him. He didn't care that you were cold in the dark without him, only that he was able to finally have your eyes on him, the shine of them gone as though covered by a veil.

"You have to work in the morning, don't you? Better get to bed." The tip of his tongue came out to put a gloss over his lower lip, tasting where you had been. "Don't let me keep you."

You'd never wanted a man so much in your life as much as you wanted Tōji right now. Maybe, after all his patience to kiss you, it was the same for him.

"Tōji"—you watched him turn back around, hands bulging from his pockets—"you never told me your son's name."

His face never changed. "I forgot, sorry."

━━━━━━━━━━━

One particular weekend had initially left you beside yourself in boredom because Hinata had gone to stay with a friend, and you were off from work. You experienced some distress knowing how enmeshed Hinata had become in your life, how nearly every waking thought was of him—where he was, was he having fun, was he eating, getting good grades, taking long enough baths, going to bed on time—everything always was for concern over him.

He had been with you right after turning six, right after you had emerged from the trenches of another relationship where you had been trodden over, proved to be unlovable, lost another job, failed your parents spectacularly, and regressed to every slovenly habit you had struggled to correct for years.

And then, you got a knock at your door and saw your brother standing there in an ironed suit and stiff-gelled hair, a shiny leather briefcase in one hand, and his other resting atop the crown of your very young nephew. You hadn't seen him since his third birthday party, which had quickly erupted into family politics, long-held grudges souring the mood instantaneously.

Hinata didn't care because he had cake. They had taken the feud outside and left you with him. All you did was wipe his face when he got too dirty, and he did the same to your clean cheeks in return, already displaying those heartbreaking signs of self-reliance.

You were sad for him but didn't do anything about it at the time. Because you had turned into the family disappointment who no one believed would amount to much, stuck in that perpetual cycle of self-loathing so debilitating from somewhere so deep within, you wanted to flay yourself alive to make it stop.

"I can't take him." Your brother didn't have much of an explanation at the time. You wished you had been able to pull the wool off of your eyes to see it had been a lie.

He blathered on, "My job won't pay to support him and me. You understand, right? He needs to stay here. I can't lose this opportunity or the money. It'll be good for everyone."

You didn't know his wife had been admitted to a psychiatric unit in Yokohama until much later.

You didn't know it had been because she had a complete mental collapse and wept and screamed until her throat and eyes swelled. She had planned to take herself and Hinata to the Shuto Expressway in Greater Tokyo with determination to find a way onto it one way or another.

You didn't know that your brother would never be coming back.

You didn't know how to take care of a child or how loving one would be so different from loving horrible men.

Six months in, you were so scared you wouldn't be able to survive caring for a broken boy and a broken adult, too. Before, you could get by for days without food in your stomach, weeks barely bathing, haggard and fatigued by doing something as simple as putting together a cup of coffee.

It wasn't the same for Hinata. He needed more than you did, and some days, he had to provide for himself. Something that still made you shudder in shame to this day. He navigated your messy kitchen and washed the dishes, threw away bad food if it looked funny or fluffy to him, tried to wrestle trash bags half his size, and learned your microwave so thoroughly that he always had something warm.

You had lain on the couch—the same one Tōji now occupied—most times, only moving to your bed with those random spurts of energy or when you needed to use the bathroom.

It wasn't like you didn't know what was going on around you because you certainly heard him struggle and cry, drag things across the floor, and break dishware because he had to climb on countertops to reach the cabinets.

You made sure he ate and didn't stink, used the wire transfers from your brother to keep food in the apartment and lights and water on, but not much more than that.

Everything changed when Hinata realized you weren't eating and made a bowl of soup for you (instant noodles). He sat on the floor, on the carpet next to where your head rested on some stacked pillows on the couch. You had been asleep all day and only roused because he called out meekly:

"Are you hungry?" He had hot noodles wrapped around chopsticks. "I can feed you. You're always feeding me."

His perception of what always meant split your heart in half, eyes feeling red all the way around as they burned, and your chin trembled taking those first bites of cheap cup noodles.

He smiled at you, and you cried. It sounded so horrid that it scared him, and he didn't know what else to do but bawl too. That had been your breakthrough moment, what finally made you uncover your eyes and put your arms around him, apologizing with a crackly voice.

Maybe it's what he had needed all along as well because he laid his body on you, holding tight, and only let your quiet shushing while rocking him against you calm him down.

In those minutes of stillness with his little heartbeat feeling less aggressive on your chest, head under your chin, eyes closed, you realized that the world had failed you both, but he was the one worth fighting for the most.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It was that very same weekend Hinata was absent from the apartment that Tōji kissed you again, right there on the couch after bringing you close to him. This time he held you flush for a while, giving you that luxury of melting into his body, hands covering every curve, valley, and peak through his clothes until he started taking them off.

You broke the kiss with him to, one, take in all his bareness and the expanse of him, reveling in the pleasure that he was everything you imagined he would be. His chest and shoulders were broad, so strong you got too wound up thinking he could handle your weight on top of him, on his face. Further down, his abdomen was just as defined, his waist that waspy taper, and you could see the angle of his hip bones offering a tease from under his sweatpants.

Second, you leaned over him to see the wound he had faux surgically closed himself. It was better than it had been, anything would've been honestly, but the fishing line had grown a brownish crust, and parts of the wound itself were thick with scabbing and swelled and red with the profundity of infection beneath the sutures.

Tōji saw your expression change and didn't want to hear about it, so he clenched his fingers around your jaw to steer you back to his lips, to touch him, worshiping how he felt under your fingertips.

"You up for it?" He gave you agency to tell him no, well aware that you wouldn't.

He liked that bashful look of yours, one steeped in inner turmoil and uncertainty, yet unequivocally wrapped in lust. You knew that you wanted him and were fighting it every step of the way. Maybe because of the kid, maybe from something else you hadn't told him about yet.

It didn't really have anything to do with him, so he didn't care what it was. Good for you, however, was that he was patient and had all the time in the world—between now and his next target, at least—so if you wanted to play coy, he'd let you.

"Come here"—Tōji took you by one hip and then through your thighs to hoist you onto his lap to straddle him—"this is a better view for me, especially if you take off your shirt. You've been giving me peeks since we've met, but I wanna see."

The way he spoke to you was unoriginal and reminiscent of recent comments you never believed were honest. He had been easing you into it—how courteous.

You still couldn't muster a full smile. "So, you want a show?"

"Sure do, sweetheart. Want help?" His fingers beat yours to the raw edges of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head without any difficulty. Everything else covering you went with it except your pants. "Much better. I like this."

Parts of sex always felt like a blur, some sort of innate, dreamlike fog that shut down your brain for a while. You liked it because life didn't seem all that bad in those moments when you were focused on the feelings, the pressure, the heat on your skin, and boiling in your veins. Tōji liked it because sex felt good, and he liked when the people he slept with were high off him—any part of him.

It got his mind off of the whole bullshit situation hunting down all of Morimoto's incompetent fleshlights. He'd managed to eradicate more than half of them, dwindling that impressive army down to the protected few that couldn't save themselves for shit.

Tōji fondled your body, led your hips over the rise in his pants over and over until he was hard, and could tell you needed yours off just as much as him by the way you sucked on your lips.

He really liked the sheen your saliva left behind, kissing you again to taste you with his tongue, laying you down on your side beneath him as he worked away those final layers on both your bodies.

"Got a condom?" On second thought, it was dumb that he asked because of course you didn't. That kid was always around, and you were too uptight to drop him at someone's house just to get fucked. "I'll pull out. It’s safe enough if you do it right."

You weren't convinced, not with how your eyebrows flattened out. "Tōji, you have a kid."

He smiled, dismissing you with a shrug. "Second time’s a charm. It isn't something we need to worry about here."

You were easy to convince right now, unusually so, given your history with him over the past few months. The transition had been interesting to observe—your suspicion and distrust of him softening into taste-testing your meals from a wooden spoon, glassy and hot stares from the room, evenings on the balcony with two beers and a cigarette, and sometimes charging him with packing lunch for Hinata in the morning.

Tōji watched you fall apart the second his cock hitched up inside of you. It was cute that you were so moldable for him, doing whatever he asked, holding positions for him like armature for a sculpt. It was annoying that, after this, he probably wouldn't be able to fuck you again until after he showed up on Morimoto's doorstep ready to blast his brains out.

"O—oh, shit, Tōji—" you whimpered from your side, torso twisted toward the cushions to hide your face from him, smothering your moans so you didn't sound like a loose whore getting something good for once. "Fuck—fuck me harder."

"You're into some stuff, aren't you?" He was halfway inside you, too big to fit all the way without rearranging you. "Bet you're the type who likes being tied up? Or do you just like being fucked out of your mind?"

Your noises snagged in your throat; he already had you figured out.

He moved your leg from his arm to the nice little seat on top of his shoulder, opening you wider for him, making sure you felt every bit of his cock stretching you, sinking in until your pelvises knocked together and skin clapped.

After the dry spell he'd had over the months, even before meeting you, this was total bliss to him. He wanted to go wild, plow into your hole so hard that you screamed, maybe cried a little, bruised up where the edges of his hip bones smacked into you repeatedly. It'd be nice to see you wobbling around the apartment for a while, too embarrassed to look at him.

He was halfway to achieving that now, listening to you go from performative, loud moans anyone could get from the streets to hard breaths and panting, your sounds mostly stolen away unless he hit a spot in you that made you gasp and writhe.

Tōji kept a hand on your ankle so you'd stay put, the other gripping the back of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turned colorless, fingertips deepening red. The most important parts were on display for now, giving him a show with how they bounced and your skin rippled when he'd slam you down on him.

That's how he fucked you for a bit—into the couch cushions where he slept, on top of the blankets you let him borrow from the kindness of your heart, sheathing himself so deep inside your body that your jaw looked permanently unhinged from how long you left it hang.

"Breathe." he reminded you, leg now off his shoulder as he took you by the ass and picked you up. His cock slipped out of you, a sensation that made you jolt. "Take five."

Your limbs surrounded him, thighs filling the notches in his hips, hands curtained by tousled black hair that glistened blue in the midday light. Tōji leaned into the little scratches on his scalp, flexing his fingers across your ass cheeks in pulses mirroring the cold static racing parallel down his spine.

He nearly bumped you into furniture trying to navigate your cramped bedroom, kiss full of fervor, spurred on by your own deprived desperation.

"Spread out." He said it to you after putting you on the bed, mattress bending to the weight of your knees as you went down on your arms. "Better bite something. Actually, on second thought, I wanna hear how loud you get."

His cock was a better fit the second time, girth filling you deliciously. It made your entire body shudder when he started thrusting again. There was just something about having a real person fucking into you that toys just couldn't achieve, no matter what shockwave orgasms made your toes curl and eyes roll white in their sockets.

This kind of vulnerability was one you missed, being under the tutelage of someone else's hands guiding you in ways they liked—groping, stroking, testing your body to see how you'd respond. The novelty of a new partner trying to find your sweet spots, what made you moan, drew up goose pimples and raised the hairs in your skin. You loved it.

"Shit—" Tōji's thrusts turned savage and sloppy, a man beginning to unfurl, one step closer to regrasping clarity. He watched the fat in your ass jiggle, muscles in your back clenching to secure you on your forearms. You whimpered at the thick fingers circling your throat, levering you up onto his thighs that twitched under your palms.

He was in your ear, still masking his pleasure and how close he was to bursting with nonchalance. You saw through it; he didn't try too hard to hide it. "Touch yourself. I don't need to see you moping around because you didn't cum."

You weren't fast enough to stroke yourself before his hand was already there. He started to slow, pushing hard so his cock reached greater depths inside of you; the strength of his hips and thighs rolled your body like being aboard a boat crashing through waves. You rode his rhythm, bringing him closer to his orgasm while he brought you to yours none too gently, the glide of his hand slick and wet and rapid.

It was so good, so familiar, so disgusting how all of it sounded together—moist pattering of his palm on you, hips beating you raw until he coaxed out that final moan, a crescendo above all the rest. He kept you seated on his thighs through every lurch, every husky breath, every way your hands pushed down on his when it became too much. His release was a subdued groan against your neck, nose in your skin while hot ropes of him moved in a sluggish stream from your back into the seam of your ass.

"Sometimes I worry if I'm doing a good job raising Hinata." Sober thoughts had returned in full force, and Tōji lay partially covered by the sheets you had burrowed under. "It's scary taking care of a kid on—"

"Not to be a buzzkill, but pillow talk really isn't my thing." He sat upright, thinking about the red and white pack of cigarettes he left on the coffee table. "This is the kind of stuff we save for the balcony."

You frowned. "Then, get out of my room."

Tōji actually rather liked the idea of taking sleep into a proper bed again, secured by four walls and a door that locked instead of being at the mercy of a vengeful eight-year-old who'd probably try to suffocate him to get the television remote. A warm body waiting for him under the covers after a long night had its appeal too.

The tiny slither of fabric fell off him as he stood from your bed, another chance to admire him. He was hewn from marble, articulated and ambulant art that you'd never be able to forget the feeling of. You immersed in sore disappointment when he walked out, tracking his whereabouts through confident heel strikes that made the floorboards vibrate back to you.

He came back a few minutes later, gray sweatpants over an arm, cigarette in his lips, and a lighter ready to go.

Your perking up was diffused by agitation that followed him across the bedroom, just another one of those things he acted like he didn't see. There was a small window you never opened that he did, raising it so his entire hand and wrist could fit through it.

"Why didn't you dump him with his grandparents?" Tōji blew smoke out through the gap. He was asking because it would've made sense to do so, given it sounded like it had been an option before. "You could still do that. Drop him off and walk away. You'd be rid of him, probably be happier."

There was cold indifference in his voice. He wasn't saying it from the mind of a lover but rather a man who didn't see the point in making things harder than they needed to be, a man who had managed to forget his own son's name and showed no remorse for it.

Hinata would be safe. He’d be in a financially stable household, given anything and everything without begging. He'd be loved by his grandparents—

"Because no one loves him more than I do." It was an easy answer. Tōji smiled like you'd given the right one. "If, someday, he says he wants to live with them, I won't stop him. If he asks about his parents, I'll tell him the truth. Right now, I'm all that he needs and he deserves—he deserves a chance to just be a kid."

Tōji flicked off ashes with his thumb, head turning to look out the window with nothing left to ask.

You did, though, stewing in transient silence for all of a few seconds. "Are you a hitman?"

He left a black smear on the outside wall when he extinguished his cigarette, dropping it wherever it landed six stories below before making his way back over to the bed. You tried not to move, not when you caught a whiff of smoke next to you when the mattress dipped and faked not noticing that he was erect again.

"How'd you guess?" Tōji shucked the sheets off of you, not particularly petulant that he didn't tell you first. "That kid's sharp. He's gonna be a pain in the ass in a few years."

The next moment his tongue was in your mouth, one leg hiked up his bicep and jostled your body with every thrust. He figured that fucking you out of your mind would soften the blow of reality—that you were sheltering a hitman, keeping one fed, drinking beers and swapping spit, memorializing how it felt to be split on a murderer's cock.

"T—Tōji, more…"

He put you on your stomach, fist wrapped up in your hair. "Come on, you can do better than that."

━━━━━━━━━━━

Hinata had the run of the living room again by that Sunday evening, an event both jarring and euphoric because it had been impossible to tear him away from cartoons for half the night. He went to school Monday morning exhausted and dazed, a self-satisfied grin stuck on his face all the way down the stairwell and even when he spilled out onto the sidewalk.

Tōji became a frequent guest in your bedroom, usually emerging in the early evenings around the time Hinata's favorite shows aired. Nothing came from it. He never asked, only studied the traffic to and from your door with inquisitive, furtive looks before he was hopelessly entangled by chaos on the screen—bright colors, loud noises, kooky shenanigans, all his favorite things.

"Stop letting him have the run of things after I'm asleep. I got a call the other day from his school." You managed most of what you wanted to say before Tōji's hips lunged from behind, throwing your chest into the wall your bed was nestled against. "A—Ah, Tōji, seriously, listen to me."

He came down onto his arms, using them to hold his weight off of you. The tips of his hair were a microscopic touch and akin to something crawling on your cheek.

"I'm listening." He didn't stop rutting his cock into you, a leisurely smile inching onto his face hearing your breaths splinter, moans suffocated behind the meat of your hand. Sex first thing after a good sleep was always rewarding, especially when there was something at stake—

Like another noise complaint from the neighbors.

"I can't hear you. You're gonna have to talk louder." Tōji said, balancing with one arm and tight core muscles to grope the front of you with his other hand. "You just wanna focus on getting fucked out instead? You've been bitching a lot lately. You could use it."

You weren't going to get anything in wordwise right now, at least nothing that mattered to him.

When Tōji was buried up to the hilt inside you, all he wanted were your moans that hit a certain pitch he liked. The kind that he had to work for, couldn't be fabricated and kept him bricked up for as long as he needed to get it out of your lungs.

His appetite for you like this had started to wane, however, because he couldn't see you. From this side, sweat beaded and slid down the length of your spine like dewdrops after morning fog, your fingers clasped and unwound like a blooming bud, and all your noises might as well have been from some peepshow whore's cunt on the opposite side of the wall.

"Screw this." He put you down on your back, not twisted sideways or thrown onto his shoulders—simply where your thighs could hold his waist while he knelt between them and pushed the curve of his cock back in, studying how your eyebrows sank inward and teeth gnawed color back into your lips. "Now this is what I want to look at."

That had been his unmaking, one of few times in his life where he had experienced genuine regret for something he had done. It had been a bad idea to see the inside walls of this apartment, to kiss you on the balcony back then, and feed false truths to the kid over pints of ice cream at 2:00 a.m. because he had more questions than common sense to be afraid of him.

"You just gonna lay there like that?" It was a different night, one less goon Morimoto could hide behind.

Tōji had showered the carnage off his body, smelled clean climbing into your bed, and pulled down your pants. It didn't take many strokes for him to get hard once he pushed your legs open and felt you kiss him back. "At least make it worth my while and take off your shirt."

It was late. You were both tired, but you registered his request and slipped the airy fabric from your body so you were as bare as him, a curated masterpiece behind velvet barriers that only he could touch, grooves in his pads rising and dipping and bumping textures that felt intentional, belonged there and made up the wholeness of you.

What had happened was he laid down on you with most of his weight, jarring you into greater wakefulness—this sort of closeness wasn't something he did.

He liked a ruthless fuck, a good time, and something nice to look at while pounding into it.

That's what he had believed, that's what you had learned—this wasn't that.

"What's wrong with you?" It could've been a rhetorical question had Tōji not known why you were asking it.

"Does it bother you?" He was on his forearms to look you in the face, still pinning you underneath while languid strokes rocked your bodies in unison. "I'm not really in the mood to bend you over the dresser, but if you need to be dicked down that bad—"

"Tōji, stop." That got a laugh out of you, the sort of sound he realized he was liking more and more as the days went on. "I don't know why, but it's embarrassing. Stop staring, it's weird."

"Nah"—his thrusts picked up speed and depth, finally shaking something good out of your mouth—"just deal with it and lay there."

You used your hands to bring him down to your lips instead, giving him every opportunity to change the pace of things, fuck you how he normally did. It would've been easier for you to deal with than this, an indescribable thing that you were too hesitant to put an actual term to.

"Do what you want." Your lips were wet, smacking every time they met his. "I'm awake now. I can roll over."

"I didn't take you for some one trick pony," Tōji quipped. "Leave that to the professionals."

Nothing else came to mind after that, finding all the tension in your muscles and bones ebbing, mind melting away those apprehensions as you concentrated on how heavy and good he was on top of you. Easing more under him, your arms circled around the width of his back, wondering whether or not to put your nails in his skin or keep them retracted.

You liked the firmness of his muscles against your palms, focusing on how they moved with his hips pushing into yours, joggling your body in a quickening sequence. His face never went away, kisses frequent and deep, taking your moans into his throat, and purposefully angled himself to get more of them out of you.

When he got close enough, he tucked his face between your neck and the pillow, the confined space left a hot, moist film as his breath jerked, and he finished with one last, very jarring thrust.

It made you gasp, feeling a foreign warmth shoot inside of you similar to a hot drink down your throat amidst the coldest December day in Japan.

That was the first time Tōji hadn't pulled out to finish, and his first time making love to you.

More often after that night, he left an arm open for you to shuffle onto, and he'd use it to cram you into his side. Slow, intimate sex didn't become his norm, and he was never particularly gentle, but that sort of mood seemed to strike him more as the weeks went on.

"I wish I could give Hinata more than this." It was weird that you were always ready to dissect the more unsavory facets of your life to him, despite every instinct telling you he probably wasn't the right person for that. "I've been saving money. I could probably scrape together enough to move us somewhere better. But, then, what happens if I do, and I can't afford the monthlies? I don't want to lose him… He's everything to me."

You still hadn't confessed the worst parts of yourself to Tōji for any other reason than he never confided in you about his. There was a looming itch in the back of your head, distant and insistent that everything about this was wrong, and you needed to stop before it happened again—before you were sucked in so deep you were lost without a light, before Hinata had to suffer through something once again.

"Where would you go?" Tōji had an unlit cigarette in his lips, a new habit he started right after lovemaking became his new interest. It was that point of compromise where he still had the feeling of something there, but you didn't have to smell anything.

"I'm not sure," you went on, "just something a little bigger. Maybe a kitchen with more cabinets. Somewhere on a lower floor, I guess? I want—I want him to bring friends over, instead of him always going to them. Not all the time, mind you. I'd lose my mind looking after a bunch of kids. But, maybe, they could study together? Play games?"

"Didn't take you for the type who wanted a cookie-cutter fantasy." Tōji said, dark eyes on the ceiling, cigarette now loosely rolling inside his fingers. "That kid could live in a box, and as long as you were with him, he wouldn't complain about it."

You shifted in his arm, feeling it stiffen around you as though to stop you from leaving had that been your intention. Instead, you flopped toward your stomach, chin digging into one of his built breasts, legs threading.

"Hinata hardly complains, and when he does, it's just because a lot is going on." You looked at his face, trying to gauge something from it. He just kept staring up. "I want to meet your son."

That brought him back around. "Say that again?"

"Your son. I want to meet your son." This was unsafe to say. The implications of it were steeper than just letting him live here and fuck you and occasionally be made to help out with Hinata. "I'd like for him and Hinata to become friends. They're a similar age, right? Kids aren't too different from each other when they're that young. They just go along with stuff."

Trying to integrate a more permanent piece of Tōji's life into yours was exactly what you shouldn't have been doing. You knew it, thought it with painful bursts in your chest, a rush of guilt that felt cold and clogged up your ears like you had dunked your head in a river.

Tōji, to your astonishment, smiled lazily and began with long strokes on your arm. "I don't think his mom is gonna give him up. That is not a mess I'd put myself in the middle of."

You frowned. "That's not what I'm saying, Tōji. I just want them—"

"—To be friends." He flicked away the unmatched cigarette somewhere on the floor, took his arm back, and eclipsed your view of the ceiling with his mass. "I heard you. Now, I just keep thinking about how I'd have to see you and my ex in the same place. That doesn't really get me off."

"I'd really hope not."

There were certain superstitious people there who believed that the longer you focused on all the good happening in your life, taking it for granted and trying to shape it into new normalcy, the more devastating the reverse would be to happen. You hadn't had much luck in your arguably short lifetime, and it wasn't until you picked up your second job that the folds began to smooth a bit, and routine felt less tiresome and less like an assault on your freedom and more like a necessity to keep things in order.

━━━━━━━━━━━

All for Hinata and giving him the best possible chance to get somewhere in life that you'd never been able to—never would be able to. You had squandered enough of yours to know it wasn't fair to do it to him, a child who'd probably had it worse from the very beginning. His path hadn't diverged yet. Meanwhile, yours had a long time ago and by choice, however unfavorable your upbringing had been.

Tōji, sometimes, felt like a test for you—divine intervention as though meant to really try your mettle, rattle your conviction a little bit to see if you'd just cave inward like you always had in the past. Surrendering yourself to misplaced love and lust, losing everything and everyone to the great delusion because it always, always felt so right in the moment to love unfalteringly because it'd be all that mattered on your deathbed.

That you loved fiercely.

That you were loved in return.

You couldn't take the rest with you. Not money. Not prestige. Not even ashes you turned into when you'd be cremated. But those moments of final fading consciousness swathed in arms and warmth and tears—love?

It's everlasting.

But then, Hinata came into your life, and it was no longer about your pain. Suddenly, you had a purpose bigger than yourself, a purpose that actually meant something, not some desperate wish. You had been channeling every bit of your anguish, longing, anger, fear, and love into that dream to help him escape what you never could. Maybe someday, by some miracle, you'd be able to join him.

Tōji hadn't become a wrench but rather a missing oil can that slowed the gears and made them grind a little harder. The effects of him were inconspicuous, gradual, not really anything you'd believe would hinder you. In actuality, he probably had you wrapped up by the first night and completely ensnared by the first kiss on the balcony.

"We should do this more often." Tōji had both hands on your waist, helping you to ride a rough rhythm on his cock. You left prints of your teeth into the thumb-side of your hand, stifling moans so they wouldn't seep through the paper-thin walls. "It's sexier when you're loud."

You'd made it years without any noise complaints, and now you had three. The last one had been delivered not by letter or phone, but in person from property management. It had been a sheepish conversation for everybody that ended with them pointing out that's why people usually went to Kabukichō where love hotels ruled the strip.

Tōji had been standing in the doorway with you, arm over your head with a casual lean. He made sure to tell them he'd been to Kabukichō many times, and the quality there wasn't anywhere on par with what you gave.

Management scampered away, flushed and aroused, and you wanted to fucking kill him. But Hinata was at school and you weren't due for work at your second job for a few hours—so you just fucked again.

Now, you were straddling him, a sack of pudge in his hands kneading your waist, hips, thighs, gripping your ass to control how hard his cock rutted up into you.

He carried one of his hands up your spine, slow and lazy as though it were too much for him to do, circled your nape, and brought your chest down on his so he could kiss you, tease you with the stiffened point of his tongue.

Everything stuttered to a halt when Hinata's scream ripped into your bedroom from the slit under the door and made the walls tremble before you realized it was you and your heart lunging from adrenaline.

Tōji let you climb off of him, clumsily and hurriedly, to throw a discarded robe on the floor around your body and throw open the door without considering that the man was lying naked in your bed.

"What is it?! What is it?!" you tried shouting above the boy's cries. They had turned wild and dissolved into wails. The kind that only happened in response to true terror or pain.

You'd never heard him like this.

"Hinata, what is it?!" It was hard not to take hold of his shoulders and shake him. That was the first impulse, the reaction to quiet something making so much noise. But you simply crouched low, keeping your fingers tight in case he tried flailing. "What happened?!"

He sucked in greedy breaths, still crying in between them and hiccuping. Snot glistened down his nose, lips, and chin, turning the reddest you had ever seen possible in someone with his complexion. With a short finger, he turned and pointed to a brown box on the floor.

It looked like a normal parcel, just like something you'd receive from the post office that had a new toy or school supplies in it. Clearly, he had thought that was the case because he'd found a pair of scissors and opened it, all four flaps spread wide, insides speckled red. Some darker splotches had been absorbed into the tan cardboard.

"What—what the hell is that?!" You couldn't keep the quiver out of your voice. "Hinata, go to your room."

"No!" he hiccuped, wiping under his nose with a fist. "No! Don't make me!"

Your heart pulsed through you like a hammer that sent vibrations ricocheting off your bones and made your intestines squeeze. You thought you could hear the organ squelch in your ears, dampening Hinata's tantrum the closer you got.

The inside of the box was what you imagined red food dye exploding inside a microwave would look like, though darker, blacker like it'd had time to sit and settle into all the layers. In the center of it was something small, just as black as the blood and had that charred, shriveled quality to it.

You had to stare at it for a long time to figure out it was a human ear attached to a flayed chunk of flesh, likely where all the blood had originated.

"Hinata"—everything you had eaten in the past three days was journeying up your esophagus, mouth already salivating—"go to your room."

"No!" He choked through a sob.

Tōji came out of the bedroom in sweatpants and no shirt, having decided that whatever was happening was a big enough deal that he needed to be there.

He asked, gratingly, "What's all the screaming about?"

Anger rushed up your core all the way to your chest, neck, and to every last strand on your head. You thought you could sling the box at him, pick up a chair and gouge him on one of the legs, and filet him with the scissors Hinata had taken from the kitchen.

The funny thing about love is that just as fast as it could be ignited, it could be snuffed just as easily—especially when there was someone to protect, someone you loved more than you ever could him.

You were on fire. "This is your fault!"

With a forceful thrust from your toes, the box made a scuffing sound as it skidded across wood floors to him where he stopped it with his foot and glanced in at the macabre contents. He must've stared at it for almost thirty seconds, the light in his eyes never changing, never once wincing or reeling like he was appalled.

"I made a mistake." Why did it have to take something like this to see it? Why was it always so awful? "I can't believe I did it again. I can't believe I was stupid enough to let you in here."

"Calm down." Emptiness sat behind those words, neither comforting or threatening. It was one of those things you'd probably do in a room by yourself.

Hinata had never seen you flare in anger, so he stayed away but never considered going anywhere near Tōji. You didn't like that he was standing in the open.

"Go to your room." Third time.

He cried. "No! I don't want to!"

"Hinata." You never took your eyes off Tōji, and he never took his eyes off you. "Go to your room."

"No!"

That was the final prod to send your temper cascading, ears burning the hottest you'd ever felt them, and that uneasy stillness within the apartment shook with the sound of your screams. "I said go to your room!"

He shrank and obeyed, feet pounding away on the wood floor to let you know he was going. A door slammed, reassuring you that the only people left in your living room were you and Tōji, an unequal standoff.

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Tōji had shoved aside the box with the ear, standing a little closer to you than he had been before. This wouldn't have a fair outcome—he was twice your size and strength, what could you do? "He's just a kid. He didn't understand what he was looking at."

"You're explaining child psychology to me now? Don't act like you give a shit." you said, walking backward to keep the space. "I should've kicked you out, Tōji. I should've kicked you out when you told me it was a gunshot. I should've kicked you out when you said you were a hitman."

Tōji's pockets protruded, round with his thick hands moving around inside. "Yeah, you really should've. You didn't, though. We're all selfish sometimes."

"You could've left on your own," you continued, "you could've healed and walked right out and left us alone. There was never anything for you to gain by staying here."

"I needed a place to stay." he said, shrugging one arm to his ear and kept advancing on you. "I could come and go how I wanted. Could sleep when I wanted. Free meals. Free beer. Eventually, good sex. Why would I leave?"

It wasn't like you to cry anymore, not like how you used to when there were days getting out of bed was too laborious. A permanent indentation of your shape had molded into the mattress from how long you'd lay there sometimes, dried tears tight streaks on your skin while staring out that little window in your bedroom where Tōji liked to frequent to smoke out of.

Once Hinata came along and fed you cup noodles from the floor, that overflowing well behind sore red eyes suddenly sucked dry, and there was no time for you to wallow, no time for you to try to stop to remember why it had hurt so bad to begin with. You had a sweet, gentle soul who needed strength and reliability.

Something, in the end, you now understood you weren't able to give him because you had relented to Tōji, likened sex as the only way to have love reciprocated. Nothing had changed from the last man you loved to Tōji, except for your desperation making you turn a blind eye to everything he was, all the danger you were bringing into that boy's life.

How utterly, disgustingly selfish.

"You're crying?" Tōji's expression rearranged as though startled, possibly the only time you'd ever seen it. "Is it because of what I said? What if I told you it was only half true?"

Each tear that wetted your face felt like it was burning an imprint into your flesh. "It doesn't matter. I should've put you out the second you finished stitching yourself up."

"That would've been the smart way to go about it, yeah." He smiled, though not confidently. "You love me."

If he had said that to you an hour ago while you were on top of him, stifling moans while being fondled by his rough hands, you would've fallen apart and confessed everything. You would've been stupid enough to kiss him again and again, gasping through raspy breaths that you'd never loved any man more than him.

And that was every bit true even now.

"I do, Tōji, I really do." You wouldn't give the luxury of a shallow smile but rather a dour look with eyes glaring determination through him. "But, I love Hinata more. More than I ever could you. It's time for you to leave."

His head leaned a touch to the left, still unperturbed by it all. "You gonna be okay?"

It was an unexpected response, not one you had an easy time holding a stiff upper lip to. "For him, I'll find a way to be. Goodbye, Tōji."

Once you walked away, you didn't stop to check what his reaction was, if it had even changed at all. Somehow, you doubted he did much besides follow you with black eyes and a swiveling neck, and that was fine. You left no room for him to doubt you this time, no chance to believe that he was still welcome in your bed, your and Hinata's apartment, or your lives.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you." To be safe, you locked Hinata's door after you entered and pushed into the floor with your knees to sit on them. "You were scared. I was scared. People who are scared sometimes do things they shouldn't. It doesn't make it okay, but it happens."

His face was completely dry, a damp washcloth twisted in his fingers as he peered down at you from his bed. They were still watery and red, but the worst of his fear had passed. Now, you guessed, he just wasn't sure what was going to happen next.

"Where’s Tōji?" He didn't ask fearfully, more bewildered since you had accused him of the ear in the box earlier. "Is he a bad guy?"

The impulse was there to paint him as the villain of this story, an effortless way to weasel yourself back into Hinata's good graces because children generally understand things were either all good or all bad. However, your nephew wasn't like them and could gather some of those more nuanced things, though still with much less perceptibility.

He would believe you, but your words were not gospel to him. That's the way it should be.

"Tōji's gone. I told him it was time to go." you said. A couple hairs on his head had fallen into a strange arrangement. You wanted to reach out and move them but stopped yourself and sat still. "I love him, so I'm not sure if he's all a bad guy. Tōji lives a different kind of life from us. It’s not meant for us. He's not meant for us."

Hinata put his feet on the floor and came over to sit on your lap. You crossed your legs so he had a spot, fingers already at work on his head.

"But, you love him. Shouldn't he stay?" he asked kindly. You prayed to whatever existed out there in the universe that he'd lever lose that part of himself to cynicism or cruelty. "We keep people we love close, right?"

"Maybe"—you nuzzled him, forehead to forehead, feeling that hot pressure build behind your eyes again—"but I love you so much more, Hinata."

"You're not mad at me?" He asked so hopefully, so brittle that you had to inhale sharply through your nostrils. "I'm sorry if I made you mad because of the scissors or opening the box. I know you said not to touch them."

You let out a laugh equal parts pained and humored, arms coming up to tuck him against your chest, and just cradled him there. He was almost too big to fit against you like that now. "No, baby, I'm not mad at you. I couldn't be mad at you. I just still have a lot of work to do on myself."

His head shifted away from your chin so he could see your face. It was a relief to see him smiling. "You're doing a good job. I'm really proud of you."

It took you a good, long while to stop crying after he said that to you. He fit awkwardly in your arms. Soon, he wouldn't be able to sit like this with you, and, almost as close as that, he wouldn't want you to hold him at all. Teenagers were just that way, pretending to be too jaded to be loved.

"He really left." Hinata walked into the living room with you later on, hand holding yours, a needed comfort at that moment. "Do you think he'll try to come back?"

"Maybe," you said. The possibility wasn't zero. "If you see him, just tell me so I can run him off."

"Okay—" He noticed something on the coffee table a few feet away. "What's that?"

You approached it first, getting a good look before giving Hinata the chance to come up along your side to also see it. On the table in front of your eyes was a clip of ten thousand yen banknotes. Even folded up and clamped with a piece of smeared metal, you could tell that's what they were. They were that shade of light yellow-green that reminded you of vintage photographs from the sixties or seventies with much less yellow and no curled edges or water stains.

"Holy shit!" Hinata darted from your side to pick it up, removing the clip to count through them all, missing a piece of white scrap paper that fluttered off of it. "This is so much money!"

You glanced uncomfortably at him, unsure of whether that money was safe to touch given the only person whom it could've come from was Tōji. But why?

Hinata counted while you looked around the apartment as if taking it in for the first time. The most important thing was that the box with the roasted ear was gone, and your front door was locked with the spare key in the doorknob. A certain look about it was a blow to your chest, crushing your heart in a vise as the finality of what it meant settled over you.

Tōji really wasn't coming back.

It was odd knowing there'd be one less person to pad around the floor, open the refrigerator, or even flush the toilet. Tōji had come into your life with nothing but the clothes on his back and a bullet in his ribs, and he had left much the same way.

"Oh my god!" Hinata's heels drummed into the wood underfoot with glee. Next, the money was shoved in your face. It smelled brand new. "There's two million yen! That's so much money! We're rich!"

"Not quite." You didn't want to deflate his enthusiasm, but this was not something you wanted him boasting about outside these walls. "We should really turn it in to the police. We don't know where Tōji got it, or if it's real."

Hinata spun around to a window filtering in the golden glow from midmorning light. Pulling a banknote taut in his thumbs, he held it up and, sure enough, all three vertical watermark bars appeared. "It's real! We're so rich!"

"I don't believe it…" You looked at the ground after finding a chair to lean on. It was then that you saw the scrap paper below, torn from the corner of an envelope, you assumed, and picked it up. "Did this come off the clip, Hinata?"

He was on your arm, gawking at it. "Uh, I guess? I dunno. What's it say?"

You flipped it to the side with black scrawl on it, finding that you couldn't read it aloud because of a snag in your throat.

Hinata did it for you. "'For the cookie cutter fantasy.' What's that mean?"

It was all you could do not to cry again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

No one ever said that raising a kid would leave you without time to spare forever. For you, that came much sooner than expected, and you hadn't been prepared for it to happen. Hinata was nine years old now, going through a growth spurt, and wanted more to do with after-school extracurriculars with his friends than he did sitting at home or exploring a new town with you.

It wasn't anything you blamed him for. You were old and grounded in reality, plodding through the monotony of adulthood and sticking to things you knew now instead of always reaching out for everything—everyone that was different. People liked to say that, to thrive, you needed variety and change in your life, that next big move to circumvent stagnancy.

The thing about it was that your life had been in such constant motion you never learned how to slow down until the brakes were put on for you and forced you to sit in the unpleasantness of yourself and things from the past until you saw the patterns, the behaviors, and the thinking that always kept the wheels spinning.

Now, you were just lonely and comfortable in an apartment that felt too big for you most days. Hinata was still home every night for dinner, waved groggily in the morning before heading out the door for school, and brought his friends around to play games—it just wasn't the same.

"You should get a boyfriend and stop working so much." he told you during a train ride home from the sea, Kanazawa in Ishikawa Prefecture, a nice weekend getaway to get some distance from an endlessly bustling town and the emptiness of the apartment. "Akio's dad is single. Maybe…"

"He's, like, ten years older than me!" You flicked him on the forehead. "What are you trying to say? I'm old? That I should get together with old men?"

"No! No!" Hinata laughed, leaning out of your reach. "I just feel bad because you're home by yourself a lot. It makes me sad that all you do is work."

There was no simple, cheerful way to tell him it was better than the alternative. To regress into old habits.

"That money isn't infinite, Hinata. It got us someplace nice, but it's my job to keep us in it." you said, briefly glancing at another passenger walking the narrow aisle closer to the front. "I take that seriously. I plan on keeping us ahead."

His chest collapsed with a sigh, feet touching the floor even when he sat back in his seat. You didn't think you'd ever get used to it, nor just how suddenly kids can grow. It was torturous to think that one day, sometime soon, there'd be another adult sitting across from you.

"Whatever, I guess." He looked at you like he had something else to say. You could anticipate what it was about. "Do you think Tōji is doing okay?"

It was inevitable that he'd be brought up when the money was mentioned. Life had improved thanks to him, and in that way you were grateful he had come into your lives. He took a piece of you with him when he left. Hopefully he knew that and treated his memories of you kindly rather than embittered.

"I don't really know, Hinata. It's been six months." Hardly any time had passed, yet the seasons had turned several times, and it felt like years of wear had settled into the knobs of your joints. "What do you think?"

He shrugged all the way to his ears, peering out into the aisle hearing squeaky wheels on a food trolley approach. "Probably good. Oh, can I get a taiyaki? Please? Pleeeeease?"

You smiled at him, opening your wallet for a couple of banknotes so he could pick a few things he wanted. It made you happy to do things for him that made him resonate with such joy.

A six hour train and forty-five-minute taxi ride later, you were handing off a duffle bag to Hinata to take on ahead up the stairs to the second floor where your apartment was. The fact that you had an easy climb up and down from your front door was probably one of the best perks of a new place, slightly second to a fully remodeled kitchen and bathroom.

You had your own bag in tow, plus a few totes with souvenirs and snacks from the sea that made some pretty ugly scuffing sounds, drowning out the echo of your footsteps on the stairs.

Hinata's voice came barreling down to you, incoherent at first but in that high-pitched intonation that kids usually had. "He's back!"

You didn't miss the urgency. "What?"

"The freeloader is back!"

Just then, your heart gave a jolt as if renewed with vigor, thrashing to escape its confines behind your ribs, hurting for all of the five seconds it took to trudge up the stairs with your baggage. You stopped breathing once you reached the next landing.

Tōji stood there in front of your door, a much shinier one with gleaming numbers that caught too much light from fluorescent bulbs descending from above. This was entirely familiar to you yet completely different all the same.

"Hey." His smile was a little bit off and looked so handsome on him, just like you remembered it. A plastic bag rustled at his side as he lifted it into view, bringing your and Hinata's eyes to it. "There's a place here in town that has good takoyaki. Want some?"

"Oh, yesssss!" Hinata snatched it from Tōji, ducking around his large body to wiggle a key in the doorknob and burst inside.

All had been forgiven. All was well to a nine-year-old boy that evening.

Tōji held a hand out horizontally at about waist height, then raised it a few inches higher. Puzzlement moved his face around.

"Did he get bigger?"

You could do nothing except nod. What was the right thing to do here? Run him off or scream for help? This wasn't the kind of place where people turned a blind eye to ruckus. It wasn't an affluent area, just another company concerned about appearances and meeting the standards of everything they stuck in a brochure. They touted a safe and quiet neighborhood.

Tōji looked comfortable in a black sweatsuit several sizes too big, fabric hanging off him in a way that was slouchy but not unattractive. His hands ballooned in the pockets, something else that hadn't changed about him.

When you found the courage to speak, you did so cautiously. "What are you doing here, Tōji?"

"Morimoto's dead, so I decided to take a vacation." He said it like it was the most obvious thing, gave a little shrug in the same way you'd tell someone a friend had gone off somewhere.

None of it made sense to you right away. That name had never made an appearance in any conversation. A few seconds later, you understood that whoever Morimoto had been, he was the one who shot Tōji all those months ago and delivered the burnt ear to your doorstep.

It didn't alleviate all of your anxieties, but the swell of it in your chest abated somewhat. Looking at Tōji now felt less of a daunting task and more of an unwanted interaction between an ex you'd had less than an amicable ending with.

"That doesn't answer my question." The bags on your shoulders were beginning to feel like lead pulling you down into the floor. This needed to end quickly. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. Just get out of here, Tōji."

"I need someplace to stay." he said.

You bristled. "No, you don't. You left two million yen sitting on my coffee table. Stop trying to make me look stupid."

Tōji shifted then, hands still burrowed deep in his pants as he curled his back slightly for a quick peek past the front door that Hinata neglected to shut. He wouldn't be able to gauge much of the inside from that view, but even that was too revealing for you.

"Looks nice. Is that what you used the money for?" His eyes were back on you, his form growing in size as he came closer. "I want to hear about it."

You wondered how much it would stroke his ego if you told him that his money had truly been what afforded you and Hinata this modicum of comfort. A part of you worried that he'd try to weaponize it, use it like ammunition to wedge his way back into your lives.

"It's comfortable. Hinata has a bigger room, and his friends come over to play games." You didn't think it was necessary to tell him anything. It was simply a courtesy. He had invested and wanted to know what that investment went to. "I actually have enough kitchen space for my pans; remember how they'd have to stack on top of the oven?"

His lips were dry, pulling up tight and pale with the easy sprawl of his smile. "Yeah, that was a pain in the ass."

"Do you remember how small the bathroom was at the old place? Your knees would basically touch the wall when you sat on the toilet," you continued, "It's double that size now. Not the biggest, but Hinata and I can brush our teeth at the same time now."

Tōji stood inches away, hip braced against the railing that was made of stainless steel and glowed under all the lights. It was always cold beneath your fingertips, worse in the wintertime.

He didn't seem to notice it, though. "What's the view like?"

"Not my favorite thing about the place, but there's a lot more light that comes in. The patio is pretty small, but I have a folding table out there and a couple chairs. I like to sit out there and drink coffee in the morning, beer at night."

You let the bags slide from your shoulders down the length of your arms. "There's not a lot to see from the second floor, but it's nice to people-watch, I guess."

"It sounds like you got that dream life after all." Tōji reached for the totes on your arm and took them onto the bulk of his. "Good for you. Good for Hinata."

Hearing him use your nephew's name so casually with a sort of softness you had never known from him sent ripples down your spine. It was hard to navigate yourself through the tempestuous storm of thinking of how much you'd missed him this entire time versus reasonably distrusting his intentions with flashbacks of everything that had happened playing like flickering reels of cinema in your head.

"Mind if I come in? That takoyaki was expensive." Tōji had the nylon shoulder strap of your duffel bag wrapped in his hand now. He wouldn't be giving it back.

You told him he could.

The real answer was much more nebulous and complex, filled with uncertainty and waning courage and exhaustion from a life that had just never gone according to plan.

Tōji didn't go inside immediately, instead turning to block it with his body and the bags. You were just now taking notice of a dimming red scar over the corner of his lips, maybe from a knife of some kind. It was new enough to still have color, old enough to be completely healed.

"Ah, I almost forgot. I want you and Hinata to meet Megumi." he said, giving his temple a tap with two fingers. "Should be soon, I think."

"Wait. Who?"

Tōji guided you inside with a hand on your back, door clicking shut after him.

"My son. His name is Megumi."

━━━━━━━━━━━

a/n: alrighty, story notes time:

this was a challenging piece for me for a lot of reasons. the biggest was probably including a child character and giving him actual significance to the storyline. I've written kids in the past, but usually only in passing or very briefly. arguably, most of mc's personal growth came from wanting to give their nephew a better life, but I also believe that hinata becomes somewhat of a coping mechanism for mc. sort of, like, mc drops one bad habit (bad men) for another (obsessed and worried about hinata's wellbeing).

my idea for tōji in this one-shot was keeping some canon elements (forgetting about megumi and his name), but also diverting quite a bit (e.g. megumi's mom is alive and well; tsumiki and her mother are a part of his past, but there's no current involvement with them. the scar on his lip resulting from morimoto and not something earlier on in his life.

I left the ending a bit ambiguous and slightly concerning bc I really wanted to drive home that progress and change are not linear. I think, for a character like mc with their history, being able to think more critically about the decisions they make vs acting impulsively as they had in the past is growth. it's all very nebulous and uncomfortable bc the ending doesn't imply something overly good, or overly bad. it sits in the middle where you know it could feasibly just turn back into a cycle, or it could be a chance at something better.

the door clicking closed could be as damning as a funeral bell, could be as hopeful as church bells during a wedding. it's up to you.

there are, obviously, some morals and ethics that go into this, namely the idea mc should let tōji around at all because of what he does—despite him never once causing (physical) harm to mc or hinata. could even be debated that the money he left for them was a way to keep his foot wedged in the door to get back in when he thought it'd be a good time, that may be giving too much credit to tōji tho lmao.

if y'all enjoyed this tho, please consider reblogging it so it gets around!!!❤️

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #2k write

[imrllytootiredforthis]

any thoughts abt yandere beomgyu or taehyun? 👀

gn!reader

warnings: yandere subs, dom reader, reader is kinda (really) mean, bully beomgyu (for beomgyu's part), bully reader (for taehyun's part), it's smut with a sub yandere so more stuff along those lines, etc.

beomgyu:

i will preach the sub bully yandere beomgyu until the day that i die-

he's such a spoiled, conceited brat that feels like he can step on anyone he deems 'deserves it' and get whatever he wants with the point of his finger

until he meets you,

who will put up with none of his bullshit, giving him none of the reaction of what he wants but maybe that's what makes him so interested in you

maybe it's the fact that he doesn't know how to deal with his emotions in a proper manner

or the fact that he's head over heels for you but doesn't know how to show it other than jeering at you in the hallways, calling you names as you walk by

but he quickly realizes that maybe you're not the best person to try to torment (pt.1 and pt.2 of previous bully!beomgyu)

because as mean as he can be, he knows you can be so much meaner than him

but maybe he likes that a little too much

even after all that he continues his little games, seeing just how far he can go, just how far he can piss you off until you're on him, making him 'regret ever being such a little bitch'-his words, not yours

he starts rumours about you, nasty ones that you can't seem to shake from the others susceptible to his influence

they'll believe anything he tells the, all because he has a pretty face and a self-acclaimed big dick

(which is, admittedly, partially true but you'd never tell him or anyone else that)

it would be a shock to anyone, really,

that beomgyu,

the guy who badmouths and bullies you on a daily basis,

tripping you in the halls and sticking crude things to your locker, causing problems and pointing the finger in your direction.

no would suspect that he,

is nothing but a whore on his knees for you behind closed doors, willing to do anything and everything for you to call him a few names.

that he sits on his knees on the tile floor of the dirty bathrooms after school, long after people have left for the day but not late enough that there won't be a few who've stayed behind for whatever other reason

that he gets off to this very idea, face red with the humiliation of it all.

moaning and whining under the eyes of the once again beomgyu - acclaimed 'school slut', fisting his cock as he desperately tries to get off,

begging, pleading with you to just touch him, just please, please, please bring him some relief.

you only roll your eyes, tugging his head back by his hair.

and he loves the fact all too much that he can see the anger that's been simmering in your eyes for weeks finally bubble to the surface. the sadistic mean side that you keep hidden from everyone else

"and why should i touch you?" your voice is a sneer that makes his cock throb in his hand. "because i'm a whore who slept with the teacher to get good grades?"

his eyes are wide, needy, greedy.

he's too used to getting whatever he wants. he's too used to people falling to their knees around him just because he's a rich boy with a pretty face.

"just, didn't want anyone else to want you-" he pants, your fingers threading through the all too soft strands of his hair. "you're mine."

"No."

he lets out a yelp when your shoe nudges against his dick,

rough and so fucking dirty but it's you and you're finally, finally touching him

you need to teach him a lesson.

"i'm not yours. and you're fucking dumb if you think i am."

one that he won't forget

"because why would i be if i was just a 'good fuck' but had some weird kinks." you laugh dryly, remembering the glint in his eyes as he stared you down, whispers formulating all around the hall about you and him.

"the irony, that you're spread out on the ground of the bathroom floor like some kind of dog, panting and begging for a treat from me? calling you a pathetic whore? and i'm the one with the weird kinks here."

you scoff

"you wish i let your pathetic dick anywhere near me, much less fuck me down into a mattress."

he can barely focus on what you're saying,

only on the feeling of your foot grinding down onto him.

he should find this demeaning,

disgusting,

wrong.

he should shove you away and get the fuck out of here with whatever decency he has left.

but he doesn't have any.

he enjoys this more than he could ever shamelessly admit, being here under your mercy

forced to be down onto his knees, stepping down on his dick as you degrade him

he could never say it aloud

but it isn't that hard to see from body language alone

the way he looks up at you with hearts in his eyes, as if you're some kind of god, blessing him with your very presence

adoration

and awe

and pure and utter love.

every cruel word dripping from your lips like honeyed venom, making his heart beat faster and his cock throb harder.

"you're fucking disgusting."

his hands fly around to grip onto your thighs, fingers digging into the fabric of your pants,

eyes lidding in bliss

"imagine if they could all see you now, spread out like this. would they idolize you then?"

he could lie and say that he didn't like it when you pulled his head back, fingers pressing into his jaw to open his mouth up,

before spitting on his tongue.

be it would be so obviously a lie.

he could also lie and say that he didn't go dumb at the taste of your saliva on his tongue, swirling around with his own before dripping down his throat

-it's the closest he's ever gotten to actually kissing you

he could say that he didn't, embarrassingly cum all over himself from it, letting out a strangled cry as ropes of it stain onto his ridiculously expensive shirt and pants

and your shoe

all while his eyes never leave yours.

looking up at you with the devotion of being the only thing that can manage to make his heart beat this fast

"now lick it off, you dog."

taehyun:

and you know what?

for the sake of these, let's just have it the opposite way for taehyun.

mean, bully reader who taunts him all day, calling him names and cornering in the hallways.

shy, lone tae who lets it happen, his head turned down, his cheeks stained pink when you do,

you didn't even realize him in the beginning, scurrying past you when you were mean to others, laughing with your friends

but he always knew you

watching you as you disinterestedly twirled a pencil through your fingers, two seats away from his

he could say from the very beginning that you interested him far beyond what was probably appropriate-but he couldn't help himself

not when he couldn't stop thinking about you, imagining the condescending tone you used directed at him for once

that sneer on your face, the look of disgust or the sadistic smile. you were gorgeous every way.

and he couldn't even restrain himself picking up his old digital camera he'd used years ago before getting bored, blowing the dust off it

and using to take pictures of you

people noticed him a bit more after that, not by much but the big camera always present in his hands or around his neck garnered it's fair share of attention

you noticed him, finally

glanced at him out of the corner of your eye in the hall or in class, but you never fully acknowledged him, never talked him

but for awhile a few looks were enough, his pictures were enough

until they weren't.

he needed more.

he needed you to look at him.

to be mean to him.

to notice him.

and you definitely did when he seemed to trip out of nowhere right in front of you and your friends,

pictures spilling out of his bag from the impact, spreading out all of the linoleum floor for everyone to see

You.

you smiling, you laughing, you frowning and glaring and sneering.

in class, on your route home, in your home.

pictures taken through a window of you half undressing, getting into bed, eating.

you stared at the photos...

before your gaze turned to him...

with everything he'd ever wanted.

finally your sights were set on him.

the word perv was thrown around, stalker and creep.

he liked them when they were from you

but those were nothing compared to the other things you'd do to him.

things he'd do for you without a second thought.

taunts were not enough. rumours he'd done a well enough job creating on his own. the rest was left up to you to fill.

you took his camera. he hasn't seen it since.

he doesn't care.

he has something much better now.

you. in the flesh. in front of him.

you had your own name for him too.

"dog."

that was perhaps his favourite.

yours too it seemed.

you thought it fit well to him.

his eyes wide, almost puppy-like when you approach him in the hallways.

you're not supposed to be here, technically he's not supposed to either.

not a peep of protest when face to face with you,

smirking toothily as you back him up into a wall, so close your nose nearly touches his, your hand resting on the wall over his shoulder, successfully trapping him in place.

he likes this position too much, even if he squirms away from your touch.

"Do you have it?"

taehyun is the type of guy you could bully for the answers to the homework or a project, but that would be too easy

you could steal his things and beat him until you were satisfied but that would probably be easier, still

it wouldn't appease that fire curling in the pit of your stomach when you see his lip quiver and his eyes flutter with unshed tears,

coincidentally it didn't appease that masochistic side to him either, the side that liked that fire in your eye when you made him do another embarrassing act

but maybe part of him that you liked so much was the willingness he had, the devotion he had to you,

following you around like a lost puppy,

at your beck and call whenever you wanted or needed him and even when you didn't.

he sits alone in his room, staring at your contact in his phone waiting for the next time you decide you're bored and want to make his life a living hell once more

coincidentally, lighting his life up once more

in some ways he needed you

and in other ways you needed him

the power trip that it gave you, knowing he'd get down on his knees in front of you and kiss your shoes, not because he was scared of you but because he loved to do it just as much as you loved to order it

"y-yeah, i have it."

he pulls something out of his bag, holding it out to you.

a small device, nothing special but the small plus and minus on it

you smirk. and slowly you let your eyes travel down the length of his body.'

"good boy~"

was it natural to feel a chest palpitation

when you call him that?

when you look at him with those eyes?

when you're so mean to him?

why does it only make his heart flutter?

"so what happens if I..."

you click your tongue at the exact moment your slide your finger down to click the plus button up,

click,

click,

click,

his body jolts, a rush of heat spreading throughout his body.

the toy vibrates inside of him, just for you.

click,

he clenches his jaw tight, trying not to make a sound under your eyes

"too much!" he squeaks.

you tilt your head to the side.

click.

he lets out a dry sob, body trembling against the wall, shaky legs only being kept upright by your hips pinning him to the surface.

"oh baby," a finger pushes his chin up, brushing over his pulse point and adam's apple before forcing his eyes onto yours.

"don't be a wimp now~"

you move in, close and for a momentary second of bliss he thinks you'll press your lips against his and fulfill the nasty wish of being touched by his bully for all too long

his eyes fall shut, lips parted in quiet pants

but you don't come.

you only laugh.

click.

"it's only too much when i say it's too much, puppy~"

his head spins. his eyes squeeze shut harder

and suddenly he hears a different click, more of a flash if he had to place it-

-a shudder?

he pries his eyes open to see you standing there still, somehow seeming to tower above him despite being the same height.

with his camera in hand.

"look at the camera puppy~"

and so he does

he whines, glazed over eyes staring directly at the lens, the utter adoration seeping through into the photo when you eventually print this out and keep to look at whenever you want

and he pants, just like the pathetic puppy he is

but he's your puppy now

click.

a/n: :)

#hard thoughts #dom reader #sub txt #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader #sub!txt #sub beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #sub!beomgyu #sub taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #sub kpop #sub idol #sub!idol #sub!kpop #dom!reader #gn!reader

[tigertales9]

Hard Reset XIII

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Fluff

Description: This is the conclusion to the LSU Valentine's Day flashback fic. First part is here -- Hard Reset XII

Time/Place: Thursday, Feb. 14, 2019 (Valentine's Day) / Baton Rouge, Louisiana

A/N: This is the thirteenth fic in the Hard Reset series.

I've tweaked this thing to pieces, and I'm still not super happy with it. It is what it is, as Joe would say. 😋

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday, Feb. 14, 2019 (Valentine's Day) - Baton Rouge, Louisiana

5:00 pm

You pull into a parking space just outside Joe's apartment, grabbing two reusable grocery bags and a small duffle bag from your trunk before opening your passenger door; you lean in and unclasp the seatbelt that's holding your vase of roses upright, briefly wondering if you should make two trips as you nudge the car door closed with your foot. "Nah," you mumble, quickly making your way up the sidewalk and a flight of stairs before coming to a stop in front of Joe's door.

You set the vase down on the ground and dig your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door and grabbing the vase before making your way into the cool, air-conditioned apartment. "He's got the damn a/c cranked," you grumble, depositing the grocery bags and roses on the kitchen island before walking down the hallway to the bedroom.

You set your duffle bag on the bed and unzip it, pulling out a wrap dress (a slinky, blush-pink short-sleeve mini dress) and a pair of nude, peep-toe stiletto heels. You quickly hang the dress in Joe's closet before heading back to the kitchen to pop the groceries in the fridge, stopping to turn the a/c off on the way.

Several minutes later, you step back and assess the simple tablescape you put together with a few items from the craft store -- two pink placemats printed with conversation hearts along with several clear candle holders with bows tied on them that you cut from a large spool of pink satin ribbon.

"Cute," you grin, grabbing the lavish bouquet of pink roses Joe sent you and setting it on the table before adding the simple place settings -- white plates plus silverware wrapped in "fancy" white disposable napkins tied with more pink bows. "Even cuter."

You tilt your head as you look at the table, chewing on your bottom lip while thinking out loud. "Love it, but it needs something else," you mutter, grabbing the spool of pink ribbon and unwinding the rest, grinning when you end up with about four feet of it; you wind it down the center of the table, weaving in between the candle holders and around the vase until you're satisfied with the result. "What else?" you mutter, giggling when a thought hits you.

You hurry to the hall closet and pull out the Scrabble box, rooting around to grab the letters you need to spell a few phrases to mimic the conversation heart placemats. "Thank goodness for pinterest," you mutter, giving a nod to where you got the idea.

You're just finishing the tablescape when you hear the front door open; you walk toward the entryway, smiling when Joe rounds the corner, your heart skipping a beat when his face lights up when he sees you.

"Hey babe," he greets you, wrapping you in a hug as he leans down to press his lips against your ear. "Can you believe it's 70 degrees in mid-fucking-February?" he grumbles, pulling back to look at you when you cackle.

"I knew you were gonna bitch about it," you grin.

"I'm not bitching," he argues. "Just stating a fact."

"Mmm-hmm," you hum, yelping when he playfully swats your ass. "Come here, grumpy cat," you order, walking back toward the dining table while beckoning him to follow. "Look at these gorgeous roses some hot stud sent me," you tease, waving a hand at the roses and laughing at his cocky smirk.

"Hot stud, huh?" He holds eye contact with you while leaning down to sniff the fragrant flowers.

"The hottest," you wink. "Do you like the tablescape?"

He finally breaks eye contact and takes in the table. "I love it," he states. "It's pretty cool that everything matches the roses."

"Yep, pink, pink and more pink," you giggle. "And I bought all of that before you sent me the roses, so we were on the same wavelength, as usual."

"Of course we were," he murmurs, capturing your gaze for a few heartbeats before returning his attention to the table. "The Scrabble tiles are a nice touch," he grins, reading them out loud as he walks around the table. "Be mine … love you … hot stuff … yes sir … zaddy." He flicks his gaze back up to yours. "Nice Z word," he purrs.

"Thanks," you grin. "Do I get triple word score on that one?"

"Oh, you're def gonna get triple something later."

"Can't wait," you sigh, rolling your eyes playfully when he spots the cupcakes sitting pretty on the kitchen island and instantly heads that way.

"Damn," he breathes, "these look delicious." He leans down and takes a hearty sniff as you walk up behind him. "Smell delicious, too," he continues, hitting you with puppy-dog eyes. "Can I have one before dinner?"

"Has anyone ever told you no?" you ask.

"Yep," he nods. "This gorgeous goddess told me no several times. She even used a jigsaw puzzle as an excuse to curve me."

"And how did that turn out?" you ask, picking up one of the plump cupcakes and peeling off the wrapper before handing it to him.

"Amazing," he grins, taking a huge bite of the confection, eyes rolling back in his head as he chews and swallows. "Ridiculously good," he mutters before taking another big bite.

"Ridiculously good, huh?" you tease. "You talking about the cupcake or the relationship?"

"Both," he mumbles around a mouthful, leaning down to press a chocolate + raspberry flavored kiss on your lips.

"Spoiled ass," you grumble playfully, spinning around and walking toward the bedroom, grinning when you hear him following close behind. "I'm wearing this tonight," you continue, pulling the short, slinky dress out of his closet.

"Damn," he mutters. "You're gonna look hot as hell in that. I mean … you always look hot as hell, but …"

"Babe?" you interrupt.

"Yeah?"

"Focus."

"Yes, ma'am."

You grin at him as you pull a pair of slinky black shorts and a pale pink tee out of his dresser. "Wear this," you order, laying the clothes out on his bed.

"Yes, ma'am," he repeats, slowly licking the frosting off of his fingers as you watch. "I'm gonna get a quick shower," he continues.

"I'm gonna change then start dinner," you state, your pulse picking up at the sight of his tongue sliding against his long fingers.

~ ~ ~

A little while later, you pull the oven door open and pop the garlic bread in before giving the boiling pasta a quick check, noting that it still needs a few minutes before going into the sauce; a blur of movement catches your peripheral vision, and you turn your head toward it, your eyes going wide when you see Joe leaning against the wall a few feet away, his gaze slowly sliding down to your bare feet before reversing course.

"You look amazing," he murmurs, pushing away from the wall and walking toward you.

"Thanks, you too," you mutter, stepping into your high heels as he closes the distance between you.

"You don't need those," he states, dropping to his knees to pull your shoes off, his big hands gripping your ankles as he eases the heels off.

"Okay," you breathe. "I was just trying to be sexy for you."

"You don't need to try to be sexy," he states, standing back up to his full height and looking down into your upturned face. "You are sexy."

"Okay," you repeat, licking your lips before giving him a grin. "We've got a few minutes before dinner is ready, so I want to give you something." You hurry to the hall closet and grab the jigsaw puzzle that you hid there earlier, smiling when you return to the kitchen and hand it to him.

"Nice," he grins. "Pillars of Creation. Is it a shot from Hubble?"

"Yeah, with a super hot heat signature."

"Super hot," he agrees. "You gonna help me put it together?"

"Of course," you answer, watching as he sets the puzzle box aside before returning his attention to you.

He gives you a quick kiss before pulling back. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"You're welcome," you whisper, grimacing as a thought hits you.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I just … I wonder …" you trail off.

"Wonder what?" he asks.

"What if we hadn't seen each other at the outdoor food court? It's crazy that we came so close to not ever getting together after I gave you the jigsaw brush off."

He gives you a knowing smile. "I would've come back into the bookstore eventually. I'm a stubborn asshole. No way was I gonna give up on you that easy."

"I'm glad you're a stubborn asshole."

"And I'm glad you decided to give me a chance," he grins.

"Me too," you return his grin. "Even though it means I've been to more LSU football games in the last few months than I'd been to in my entire life."

"And not one drunk asshole harassed you, right?"

"Well, yeah. Prob because you very publicly threatened to "deal with" anyone who bothered me."

"Anyone who messes with my woman messes with me."

"That sounded super caveman, but I ain't even mad."

"Because you know I didn't mean it in a bad way; I'm just as much yours as you are mine."

"You're getting laid tonight, babe," you grin. "No need to work for it." The timer on the oven goes off before he can respond, and you quickly drain the pasta before adding it to the sauce, giving it a thorough stir before pulling the garlic bread out of the oven.

~ ~ ~

Ten minutes later, most of the overhead lights are cut off, and y'all are eating dinner by candlelight, Joe making num-num noises as he tucks into the spicy pasta.

"This is so good," he groans, winding a generous portion of linguine around his fork before popping it in his mouth, grabbing his glass of blush wine and holding it up as he chews and swallows. "Happy V Day," he murmurs, smiling as you clink your glass against his.

"Happy V Day," you echo, taking a hearty gulp of your wine and giggling as he continues to tell you a story of something silly that happened earlier at the gym.

Y'all continue to trade small talk as you eat, his gaze devouring you in a way that sets off a steady throb between your thighs. You open your mouth a few times to let him feed you a succulent bite, the sexual tension between you so strong that the simple act of eating dinner together feels like foreplay.

"Sooo, I've got something else to give you," he eventually says, polishing off his pasta and draining the last of his wine before leveling a no-nonsense look at you.

"I know," you purr. "I've been waiting all day for it."

His deep laugh sends a sizzle of heat down your spine; he gives you a wink as he stands up. "I wasn't talking about that, horndog. I've got something else to give you first."

"Okay," you pout," grinning against his lips when he leans down and gives you a lingering kiss. "Patience, beautiful," he teases. "I promise to make it worth the wait."

"You always do," you admit, watching as he walks to the bedroom and quickly comes back out holding a slim black case; he pops it open, grinning as you gasp at the sight of the dainty, white-gold bracelet with two intertwined pavé diamond hearts.

"Oh my gosh, it's gorgeous," you whisper, shaking your head as you continue, "but it's too much."

"It's not enough, in my opinion," he states, lifting the bracelet from its velvet nest. "These are real diamonds, but they're small, and it's not like it's Cartier or something. One of these days, I'm gonna get you something truly outrageous."

You lift an arm up so he can fasten the bracelet on your wrist. "I don't need outrageous, and I don't need Cartier," you mutter, watching closely as his long, agile fingers easily work the delicate clasp. "It's really beautiful and sparkly," you sigh. "I love it, and I love you."

"I love you, too," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a lingering kiss for several heartbeats before pulling back and locking eyes with you. "I want you to think about me when you wear it."

"I already think about you all the time," you admit. "I don't need a reminder."

"You're getting laid tonight, babe," he echoes your earlier words while giving you a naughty wink. "No need to work for it."

You giggle as he stacks your dinner dishes and heads to the kitchen, quickly rinsing them off and popping them in the dishwasher before returning to the table with the bottle of wine; he pours the rest of it into your glass and gently pulls your chair -- with you still sitting in it -- out from under the table before dropping to his knees at your feet.

You take a sip of the wine, your pulse reacting as he spreads your legs, his sensual lips teasing your inner thighs as he pushes the hem of your dress up, nibbling and sucking, moving back and forth as you sink a hand into his hair. He makes eye contact with you as he unties your wrap dress and spreads it open, baring your body to his hot gaze.

"So gorgeous," he murmurs, licking his lips as he flicks his eyes from your bare breasts down to your naughty panties. "Fuck," he groans, running a thumb up the length of the center seam a few times before replacing his thumb with his mouth, sliding his tongue up the seam, over and over, pushing the thin, see-through pink fabric into your slit.

"Yeah," you breathe, draining the rest of your wine before setting the glass on the table and sinking both hands in his hair; you roll your hips into him as he continues to tease you, grinding against him for several heartbeats before he pulls back and locks eyes with you.

"We need to slow this down," he states," hopping up and walking behind you. "Lean forward and put your hands behind your back," he orders, waiting for you to do his bidding before snatching the long, pink ribbon off the table and using it to bind your hands behind your back. "Good girl," he murmurs, watching closely as you lean back in your chair, wiggling a bit to get comfy as he strips his shirt off before dropping to his knees between your spread thighs. "I wanna take my time," he explains, "and I can't do that if you're pulling my hair and grinding against me."

"I thought you liked that," you pout.

"I love it, but it gets both of us off super fast, and I wanna take my time tonight, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper, gasping as he hooks a finger in the crotch of your panties and pulls it to the side, burying his tongue inside you.

Over the next several minutes, he gives a master class in edging, bringing you to the brink over and over as you whimper and moan, your pulse pounding and every inch of your body begging for release.

"I'm so close!" you whine for what seems like the 20th time, groaning in frustration when he pulls off of your clit and makes eye contact with you, his lips and chin glistening wet with your arousal.

"I know," he soothes, rising up on his knees as you pant for breath; he leans forward and presses his slick lips against yours, nipping and sucking your plump bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside when you open up for him. You moan into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, relishing the taste of your arousal on his hot, velvety tongue as it tangles with yours.

He continues the sensual kiss while sliding his hands up your thighs and over your hips and waist, barely ghosting his fingertips over your skin, leaving chill bumps everywhere he touches. Your already-hard nipples harden even more in anticipation as his big hands approach your breasts, making you squirm as his fingers inch oh-so-close but stop just before reaching the sensitive peaks.

"Please," you beg against his lips, your breath catching in your throat when he brushes his fingertips over the aching nubs, teasing you with gentle, barely-there caresses before pinching with the perfect amount of pressure to make you whimper. He smiles against your lips as he repeats the action, and you're more than a little lightheaded at the feel of his tongue in your mouth and his talented fingers teasing your sensitive nipples. All you can think about is wanting more.

He reads your body language and lowers his head, replacing his fingers with his mouth and moving back and forth between your breasts as you watch him pleasure you; he licks and sucks your nipples so good you can feel it between your thighs.

"I'm so turned on it actually hurts," you whine, chewing on your bottom lip as he captures your gaze.

"You want me to finish you?" he asks, the carnal promise in his deep voice causing your core to contract.

"Yes, sir," you plead. "It won't take much," you continue, your pulse pounding as he reaches a hand behind your back and unties the ribbon holding your wrists, making a sound low in his throat when you immediately bury both hands in his hair.

You briefly admire the glittery sparkle of your new bracelet as the candlelight hits it, all coherent thought leaving your brain a few heartbeats later when he tugs the soaking wet crotch of your panties to the side and slides two fingers into your slick heat.

"Don't stop!" you urge, grinding against him as he crooks his fingers inside you, bulls-eyeing your sweet spot while he latches his lips onto your clit, his cheeks hollowing out as he gives the aching bud a thorough suck.

The tension that's been building inside you for what seems like ages finally erupts, the powerful climax washing over you in waves, literally taking your breath away for several seconds before you manage to draw in a ragged gasp of air. "Fuck," you whisper, a little dizzy at the feel of your core clenching and rippling around his long fingers as he continues to stroke you through the orgasm.

After waiting a few minutes for you to catch your breath, he slides his fingers out of you and immediately slides them in his mouth, licking and sucking them the same way he did the cupcake frosting earlier.

"Taste good?" you ask, your breathless voice bringing a naughty smile to his face.

"Better than good," he answers. "It's my fav flavor."

"I need you inside me," you whisper, watching as he grabs the pink ribbon and wraps it around your neck before quickly picking you up; he heads for the bedroom as you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his fragrant neck.

A few heartbeats later, you're on your back on the king-sized bed with him on top of you, both of you now fully naked. He leans his weight onto his left forearm and hovers over you, his chest barely touching your nipples as he reaches down and grasps his erection, teasing the lips of your sex with his plump tip while staring into your eyes.

"I need you inside me," you repeat, squirming underneath him as he drags his tip up and down your slit several times to gather moisture before pushing inside. You wrap your legs around him and arch up, wanting all of him at once, craving the feel of his thick shaft filling you up.

"I'm not gonna last long," he grits out once he's fully seated, a hiss escaping his lips when your core clenches him, your body reacting to the hot, hard intrusion. "Fuck me, please," you beg, your eyes fluttering closed as he starts to move.

Almost immediately you feel the tension building again as your body continues to react to the feel of him inside you, to the delicious thrust and drag of his thick cock stretching you to your limit. "I'm gonna cum again," you mutter, opening your eyes and giving him a slightly desperate look as he picks up his pace. "I got you," he promises as he leans down and latches his lips onto your neck, sucking the sensitive skin as he pounds into you, gracing you with a low-throated groan when you rake your nails up the long, muscular expanse of his back.

"Don't stop," you plead, lightheaded with desire as your entire body strains toward another release. "I got you, baby," he repeats, reaching down between your sweat-slick bodies to press his thumb against your clit, adding the perfect amount of pressure to set you off.

You let out a yell, and Joe gives a groan of pure male satisfaction when your second climax hits, filthy praise spilling from his pretty lips as the waves of pleasure roll through you; your slick heat clenches his shaft over and over while you pull his hair and whimper his name, your entire body trembling as fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids.

Once you somewhat catch your breath, you flutter your eyes open, a blush rising in your cheeks when you realize he's gone completely still and is watching you closely. "I love to make you lose control," he purrs, his husky voice caressing you like a physical touch; it only takes you a second to realize he's still hard inside you, tension radiating from his big body at the effort to hold still while the aftershocks of your climax continue to fire, giving his thick cock intimate squeezes as his hot gaze stays locked on yours.

"Your turn," you whisper, digging your heels into his back and arching up to take him deeper, the primal noise he makes as he starts to thrust -- part groan/part growl -- encouraging you to be more vocal, begging him to fuck you harder and deeper as he chases his pleasure. You eventually slide the pink ribbon out from under your neck and wrap it behind his neck, using it to pull him down for a kiss, swallowing his groans as he buries himself inside you and comes apart.

He eventually pulls out of you, both of you gasping at the friction before he plops down beside you on his back, a satisfied smile on his face as he turns his head and gives you a wink. "That was intense," he murmurs.

"For real," you agree, returning his smile as your entire body continues to hum with pleasure.

"I'm almost too wrung out to eat another cupcake," he grumbles playfully.

"Give it a few minutes, and you'll be good to go," you giggle, heaving a happy sigh as he reaches over and grabs your hand, lacing his long fingers with your shorter ones and giving a gentle squeeze. You study his face for several heartbeats before breaking the silence. "What are you thinking?"

"Just about how lucky we are that we found each other," he answers. "Feels like fate."

You try to blink back tears as he rolls up onto a forearm and looks down at you. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he whispers, leaning down to kiss a tear as it slides down your cheek.

"They're happy tears," you sniff, poking your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout before continuing. "But a cupcake would def make me feel better."

His deep laugh brings a smile to your face; he leans down and drops a kiss on your lips before sliding out of bed. "You want me to open the other bottle of wine?" he asks.

"I think I'll just have water."

"Me too," he agrees, quickly walking into the bathroom before coming back out with a damp washcloth; he gently cleans you up before tossing the cloth back in the bathroom and giving you a big grin. "Water and cupcakes coming right up," he states, his long strides quickly taking him out the bedroom door.

You push up into a sitting position and try to tame your hair a bit, smiling as you catch sight of your new bracelet. "So pretty," you sigh, rocking your wrist back and forth to let the diamonds catch the light from the bedside lamp. You roll your shoulders a few times and stretch your arms overhead, your eyes coming to rest on the pink ribbon laying on the bed beside you. "Oh," you mutter, your eyes going wide as a naughty thought hits you. "Ohhhh," you whisper, quickly snatching the ribbon and winding it around the bottom slat of the headboard, looping it into a tight, center knot that leaves two long strands free.

You grab a pillow and hide your handiwork just as Joe breezes back in carrying two bottles of water and a plate with three cupcakes. He sets everything on the bedside table before peeling one of the cupcakes and handing it to you.

"Thanks," you grin, taking a bite as he peels his own cupcake and plops down beside you.

"These are so good," he mumbles around a huge bite, holding a hand in front of his mouth so you won't see his partially-chewed food.

"Thanks," you repeat, both of you falling into a comfortable silence as you each polish off your cupcake.

He eventually licks his fingertips before grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to you. "Oops," he grimaces. "Was it gross to lick my fingers and then touch your water bottle?"

You take a swig of water before smiling at him. "I'm literally covered in our combined body fluids. Def not worried about a bit of spit on my water bottle."

He laughs along with you before taking several gulps of water, his prominent Adam's apple drawing your gaze as it bobs in his throat. So fucking sexy, you think to yourself, admiring the view for a few more seconds before raising your eyes back up to his face; his hot look causes a shiver of desire to run through you.

"Are you cold?" he asks.

"No," you admit, scooting over and patting the bed. "Why don't you lay down and let me massage you a bit."

"Face down or face up?" he asks.

"Face up," you answer, trying to suppress a naughty grin as he does your bidding, stretching out and resting his head on the pillow that's concealing the ribbon.

You straddle his waist and dig your fingers into his shoulders, giving him an innocent smile when he flicks his gaze down to your bare crotch nestled against him.

"You know where this is headed, right?" he asks, voice husky with arousal.

"Yes, but I wanna take my time," you state, repeating his earlier words as you grab his wrists and slowly press his arms over his head. "Relax," you soothe, quickly pulling the satin ribbon strands out from under the pillow and wrapping them around his wrists, tying a knot before he even figures out what you're doing.

He pulls against the restraint, one eyebrow climbing toward his hairline. "Payback, huh?"

"Maybe a little," you concede, leaning over and grabbing the remaining cupcake off the bedside table. You swipe a finger through the fluffy frosting, smearing it on his Adam's apple before leaning down to lick it off. "Oh fuck," he groans, instinctively knowing where you're headed with this. "Oh fuck, indeed," you giggle, dotting a dollop of frosting on each of his nipples before licking them clean, grinning as he squirms underneath you. "I think I'll do that again," you purr, adding more of the sweet pink fluff to his hard nubs, making obscene noises as you slowly lick and suck it off.

"I'm hard," he announces.

"I know," you grin, giving him a filthy wink. "But I wanna take my time."

"You're going to hell for this," he chuckles.

"Save you a seat," you tease, sliding farther down until you're sitting on his thick thighs, strategically ignoring his impressive erection as you paint a few stripes of frosting on his abs; you lean down and make a show out of licking the frosting as he watches you with hooded eyes.

"I need to be balls deep in you right now," he rasps.

"Still taking my time," you whisper, swiping some frosting around his belly button before rimming it with your tongue.

"Untie me so I can fuck you," he orders, groaning when you slide a finger through the precum pooling under the tip of his cock, bringing your finger to your mouth and sucking on it while giving him a loaded look. "You better stop playin'," he warns, bucking his hips up when you lower your head and lightly suck his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around a few times before pulling off.

"Just relax," you soothe, scooting farther down, smiling when he spreads his thighs for you; you crawl between his thick thighs and run your fingers through the last of the frosting before smearing it on his balls, a flood of liquid heat rushing into your core at the noises he makes as you slowly lick it off.

"Untie me or I'm gonna break something," he grits out, the headboard giving an ominous creak as he pulls against it.

"Don't hurt yourself," you warn.

"I'm not gonna hurt myself, but I'm gonna wreck this fucking headboard if you don't untie me."

"Okay, Mr. Impatient," you chuckle, tossing the cupcake on the bedside table as you crawl out from between his thighs and quickly scoot up to untie him. "You made this knot way tighter by pulling against it," you mutter, finally working a finger inside the knot and giving a sigh of relief when it gives way.

Your sigh is quickly followed by a squeal as he flips you onto your stomach, pulling you up onto your knees and sinking his cock inside you in one smooth motion. You press your forehead against the mattress and arch your back, digging your fingers into the sheets for leverage as you fuck back against him, a steady stream of whimpers spilling from your lips as he rides you hard.

Several minutes later, you feel the tension building inside you again; you draw in a breath to tell him you're close, but he's already reaching down to play with your clit. You grind your face against the mattress as the pressure continues to build, his fingers and cock pushing you toward the edge, his husky voice coaxing you to let go and cum for him. You take in a gulp of air and moan his name as your climax hits, a thrill shooting through you when he moans your name before following you over the edge.

~ ~ ~

You flutter your eyes open, briefly wondering what woke you up as you turn your head to check the clock on the bedside table -- 4:33 am.

You push up into a sitting position and grab your water bottle, chugging about half of it before setting it back down, your gaze drawn to the tall, gorgeous man in bed beside you as he stirs in his sleep.

I'm living a dream, you think to yourself as you give a quick glance at your new bracelet before stretching back out beside your man, your heart overflowing with love as he instinctively reaches for you even though he's sound asleep. You snuggle against him, your back to his chest, a smile of pure contentment gracing your lips as you drift off to sleep wrapped in his arms.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

[goddessofwaifus]

Honestly, how shinichiro managed to worm his way into my heart still surprises me...

He deserves love too! Nobody is "normal" by any standard so how does such a cute weirdo like him get rejected 20 times?! Whatever if none of the girls who rejected him want him, I guess that means no competition for being his one and only 😏 This one is for my shinichiro lovers!!! He may be a loser but he can get a w while being a lovable dork. If takemichi can get bitches, then it shouldn't be out of the question that the same can apply for Shin!

Premise- You're walking in the usual crowded halls and there you bump into the boy who every girl gossips about at school. He's weird, he doesn't know how to talk to women, he's been rejected 20 times... Wait what? How does that happen?!

The only real thing I should note for this little fic is that you and Wakasa are familiar with one another. The relationship can be familial or platonic. Might give some background in a follow up part if anyone is interested in exploring that aspect in detail. Reader,as usual,is gender neutral for inclusion of all who read.

Lose to win

Shinichiro Sano x Reader

How many dates would you go on with this guy? Honest answer for the shinichiro simps out there, I know you're out there!

Personally, I'd go on however many dates he wants. If none of those girls want him, I'll take him myself 🙄 their loss

Honestly school is shit. Especially when you're the subject of gossip and your friends have better luck with pulling than you. That was the case for Shinichiro Sano. Poor guy had been rejected 20 times, he was about ready to give up and just fully dedicate himself to the gang life with his love for bikes. Walking down the hall with him were his friends Wakasa Imaushi, Takeomi Akashi, and Keizo Arashi (Benkei).

"Honestly Shin, I'm starting to worry about ya bud. You are just woman repellant, I feel so sorry for you."

"Maybe his charisma just doesn't work on girls? You really need to stop letting your intrusive thoughts win, man... Girls avoid you like the plague and I don't need you scarin' off the bad bitch I snagged this week..."

"You'll find someone eventually. Girls are picky. If it doesn't work out, who knows? Maybe datin' ain't it for you. If not, you got us! We can go out and kick some ass! Cheer up man!"

Shinichiro gave a small smile to Benkei 's attempt to lighten the mood. He gave a frown to Waka and Takeomi, feeling the white-haired boy give him a light punch to his arm with a chuckle. Some friends they are, he joked until he felt an impact with his chest that prompted him to stop with his friends pausing as well. You had bumped into him on your way to class and bowed your head, embarrassed for getting in his way.

"Sorry... I wasn't watching where I was going. I didn't mean to bump into you! I'll get out of your way... Sorry for the inconvenience. I'll-"

"No no you're fine! This hallway is pretty crowded so it was inevitable for this to happen."

Shinichiro laughed, rubbing the back of his neck while his friends looked down at you. You were going to move aside and continue your trip to your classroom when Wakasa spoke to you.

"Yo y/n, before we let you go off to class, I got a question for ya. You got a type?"

The question was completely out of left field so it flustered you a bit. What kind of question was that? Wakasa is prone to asking odd questions, sometimes to perform his own personal social experiments among other students or simply for his own personal reasons. Maybe to try and see what kind of person they are? You'll never know, Waka has always been aloof and a bit mysterious in your time of knowing him. You shrug and figure maybe this was a test of his, so you'll bite.

"In partners? I guess it doesn't really matter as long as they're not an absolute dickhead or douchebag just looking for some ass. I can't stand people like that..."

You trailed off as you had glanced up at Shinichiro who looked like he wanted to be swallowed up by the floor beneath him. You slowly put the pieces together as you remembered overhearing girls giggling and laughing or gagging in over exaggerated disgust about some boy named Shinichiro who had supposedly asked them out, but they either blew him off or he somehow screwed up his chance by saying something weird that creeped them out/ turned them off from pursuing anything with semblance to a date. You then glanced over to Wakasa as you were now curious to see where he was going with the question now answered.

"You've probably heard around the hallways, but this guy has had an unlucky streak with the ladies. Unlike everyone else, you're one of the nice ones here on campus. You can probably see where I'm going with this."

You nodded, looking back at the embarrassed delinquent busying his gaze with the floor to avoid looking at his friend who was smirking slightly at the response. A gentle tilt of the chin upwards was almost enough to put the boy into cardiac arrest as he instinctively swallowed against your hold. His charcoal eyes meet your (e/c) ones in hesitation,you can see the anxiety building behind them. He watched your lips as you spoke your next words, his ears at attention.

"Shinichiro Sano. 20 rejections? What did you do to scare them off?"

"Too honest and open."

"Speaks before he thinks."

"Being himself is apparently the worst advice to give him..."

You weren't expecting the three boys to list every fuck up the guy made for every girl he potentially had interest in. You almost felt bad for his string of bad luck, but you figured Waka chose you for the most obvious reason.

You didn't have the best track record with dating either. Although you don't like to admit it, you can sympathize with the guy. Girls, as a joke or genuinely, have warned/told you not to get involved with Shinichiro. Social suicide they said, you'll never be able to eat with the little friends or acquaintances you have due to associating with the weirdo, he's not worth it, and so many other disheartening things they spewed from their mouths.

Who were they to tell you not to give the guy a chance? Half of the girls spouting that crap are either dating his friends, fucking with them, or haven't gone out with the guy and are simply regurgitating what everyone else is saying so they don't get the side-eyed by the ones who started spreading the information around. Some say he's bad in bed, others say he's not loyal, one girl said she couldn't stand the smell of smoke from his cigarettes, another said he's impulsive, and so on. They all had something to say about him, never positive things. You would decide, not them. You had a mind of your own and you could tell a person's intentions based on their behavior.

So what if he's bad in bed? Sex ain't everything in a relationship after all.

Most of the girls couldn't say anything about being unfaithful to their lovers when the hypocrisy in their words couldn't have been any louder.

You honestly couldn't say anything about the cigarette smell, but he should quit while his lungs are still healthy and taking in oxygen as they should. The smell is an easy fix, just spritz cologne lightly and it should overpower the nicotine. Some girls don't mind the smell or taste.

As for the impulsive part, that comes with being a teenager. Hormones play a part as well as other factors. You were a bit impulsive yourself so maybe every now and then you say something wild or out of turn that would have the class eyeing you like hawks and wishing you could vanish right then and there in the moment. Perfectly natural for both men, women, and those in between. Nothing new, nothing bad.

Half of the things they listed weren't heinous or anything worth slandering his name for. If not to put these stupid rumors to rest, then just to satisfy your buzzing questions and learn more about the boy who supposedly repels girls away instead of attracting. You don't know what the fuss is about, he's a good looking guy and from the times you've passed by him and his friends, he's a pretty chill and easygoing person. He's never caused trouble, his grades are decent, has no problem with making friends, and you wouldn't assume he's the type of guy who goes around beating up other students to assert his dominance and show off his strength. Shinichiro Sano seems like your average guy who might,one day, work as a mechanic.

"You're L/n-san, right? Y/N? Y-you don't have to if you don't want to... I wouldn't want to waste your time or bring down your reputation by asking you out. I'd only cause problems for you and the guilt would eat at me..."

"What are you talking about? What reputation? I'm not losing anything from going out with you. If anything, I think I wanna be the first girl to ask you out for a date~ If that's alright with you."

You stopped his train of thought right then and there, a smile he swore took the breath from his lungs and made his heart thump hard enough to nearly trigger a panic in him. You asking him ,out of all the guys at school, on a date? He swears up and down his face has never been so hot and red like a cherry tomato before. The smugness of his best friends couldn't have been so loud and visible to the raven-haired delinquent.

It's a big deal because, while you aren't picky about who you date and go out with, you still have standards and on top of that, major trust issues as a result of relationships that have crashed and burned for many reasons you don't want to think about or remember right now.

"Is it cool if I join you guys for lunch period? For once, I don't wanna eat by myself like I usually do. Maybe I can also get to know the gossip topic himself better so I have a better read of him. I have a fairly good idea of who he is,but I wanna hear it from his mouth for myself."

"Y-yeah! It's perfectly fine for you to hang with us! T-the more the merrier right?"

He can't get any cuter or be more of a dork, you thought to yourself with a soft smile. The boys walked you to class and you breezed through most of the lectures with ease. Before you can even squeeze in a little nap, it's lunchtime and unlucky for you, you completely forgot to make yourself lunch this morning before you took off towards the school grounds. You sighed in disappointment,trudging to the roof as you also didn't have enough money for even a little snack to suffice. All you brought with you on the way up was your sketchbook for doodling while you ate, but maybe today was looking up for you.

"Hey. You made it...Did you forget to make yourself lunch before you went to bed again last night?"

The look on your face gave Wakasa his answer, he chuckled as Shinichiro had been telling Benkei that he was saving the extra bento he made to hopefully give to someone (preferably someone who was a good cook) as a taste tester for his cooking. Ever since his little brother and sister started teasing him about being a bad cook, he had become determined to improve his culinary skills in the kitchen to get his rotten little siblings off his back and prove he was a good cook. The lunch he made tasted fine to him, however a second opinion was needed due to his taste being an "unreliable source" to his siblings and grandfather. No more takeout, he would learn to cook for them. Plus, it makes good practice.

"Alright, what idea kept you up this time? I'm assumin' ya jotted it down in your handy sketchbook so let me have a look and see."

While Benkei was distracted by whatever you had stayed up late to work on instead of getting your precious sleep, Takeomi saw the extra lunch Shinichiro made as a perfect opening for the two of you. He nudged their leader and nodded his head over to you to signal him into seizing the golden opportunity to learn more about you. The messy haired bundle of nerves that was Shinichiro gave a subtle nod to his friend's encouragement, sighing deeply as Wakasa sat on one side of you and Benkei sat by Takeomi. You and Shinichiro were sat in the middle as the five of you sat against the fence walls along the school rooftop, Waka seeming to get the same idea that Takeomi had when he remembered the extra bento his friend was holding onto.

"Uh hey Y/n? So I've gotten into cooking recently on account of wanting to get better at it for my lil siblings and grandpa. S-since you forgot to make lunch for today, I figured maybe you could try the extra one I made and have that if you like it. If it's cool with you, I wanna see what you were working on last night too in exchange. If you're not cool with that, I'll still give you the lunch either way!"

You nodded, a bit nervous about showing him the doodles and pieces you scribbled away in the confines of your sketchbook, but you figured it wouldn't hurt for him to see. You didn't think you were the best artist and admittedly didn't think you were good at cooking to really be a good judge of taste testing. Wakasa would shut down any and all belittling of your skills, be your number one cheerleader, and encourage you to pursue your hobby. If you didn't think you were the best cook, shut up. How dare you call his friend a bad cook? He should have you cook something for him and he'll judge it for himself.

Shinichiro traded you the lunch for your sketchbook under the single condition that he didn't laugh and make fun of what you worked on until 2 in the morning before finally falling asleep upon satisfaction of your finished product. Let it be known that you rarely show anyone your work on account of being laughed at and/or bullied for the subject matter of your pieces. You were an anime fan, you liked to watch anime at night and often imagined scenarios between you and your favorite characters from the media, if inspiration struck (more often than not as you're getting ready to go to bed) you would draw said idea in your sketchbook, erasing and redrawing line after line until it looked exactly like your daydream or was close enough to it.

Watching with held breath as the charcoal eyes of Shin glided across the page where your latest piece from the night before sat. He admired each line you drew, the expressions, poses, no space on the filled canvas was left untouched by the observant eyesight of the gang leader. You were so worried about what he thought about your artwork that you hadn't touched the lunch he gave to you. What did he think of the doodles you made? Was he gonna laugh at you too? So many questions flow into your mind, filling your stomach with dread and slowly regretting handing over your sketches.

"I recognize this character! I've seen the anime before, but I can't remember the name. God... What's it called? Oh! A/n (Anime/name)! It was really good!"

"You've seen that anime? Y-you watch anime? I didn't think you were the type to be into that."

"Well, I remember reading the manga for it and thinking 'what's the anime like?' so I watched it and I got invested! This art is really cool! I like the way you drew them, is this your character in the anime? They look really nice."

You smiled, nodding as Shinichiro didn't need you to tell him what was what. He did notice you hadn't touched the lunch he made yet, he looked through the other pages before he was satisfied with taking in your work and committing it to his memory.

Eventually, you opened the bento and found delicious food inside,wafting to your nostrils and making you salivate from the aroma. Shinichiro watched you drool over what he cooked this morning,pride blooming in his chest at the sense of accomplishment but he needed to know if you would eat it. He needed you to take a bite and give him your thoughts on how it came out. Now you were the one being observed closely with bated breath by Shinichiro as you thanked him for the food, bringing a portion up to your lips taking a bite of what you grabbed. The flavor made you tear up with a smile, chewing thoughtfully to savor the taste in your mouth.

You won't forget the looks on their faces as Wakasa cackled from the range of emotion in his friends in response to what you said about Shinichiro and his food. Shinichiro was redder than a strawberry and trying to cover his face, Benkei nearly spit out his food from how wild your response to the food was, and Takeomi was just as flabbergasted if not in utter disbelief at what came out of your mouth. Once Wakasa could breathe somewhat and finally wipe the laugh tears from his lavender eyes, all the snow haired boy had to say was:

"I told you you weren't the only one who blurts out weird shit on impulse! I tooold you!!!"

You hadn't even realized what you said until you saw Shin turn into a tomato with his coal eyes wide open in shock and other things in the mix. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't flattered by the comment on his cooking. It meant he was improving and his practice was starting to pay off. Did you really love what he cooked that much? If so, he'd make a personal note to try and cook more for you in the future. Maybe he could even taste your cooking one day if the date was still gonna happen and it went well. The date was still on and you'd make sure it was fun for the both of you. This date would be the best one that you and Shinichiro had ever been on.

"Ready to go?"

You gave Shinichiro a nod, looking forward to how this date would pan out. Even if the date didn't go well, you would give him the opportunity to take you on another one to make up for it. The two of you had fun riding around together, watching the world pass by as you were behind him on the bike. He'd check on you every few minutes to make sure you were okay, slow down if he felt you were nervous about the speed he was going, he was very accommodating and that alone made the afternoon all the more enjoyable for you.

Shinichiro took you to the movie theater, you had tickets but wouldn't tell him what movie you were seeing. You wanted it to be a surprise,and you had good seats in the back with a perfect view of the screen as long as no one blocked it in the middle row. You two had all kinds of snacks and the best part about this theater was the security doing their job to ensure the watchers had a good time which meant they made sure everyone turned off their phones or put them on silent. If they didn't, well they would "mysteriously lose signal" on their phones and would be forced to go outside to get better reception. If they brought noisy kids, quiet them down or leave. If you stepped out of the viewing room for any other reason besides going to the bathroom or getting more snacks for the movie, you weren't allowed back inside to avoid disrupting the movie for everyone else.

If the adults who were disregarding the viewing room rules of turning off their phones brought kids, the children would have to leave with the parents or whomever the adult in attendance was. They were serious about their jobs and they too respect the rules of the viewing rooms. You had gotten mildly annoyed because as the movie was getting good, that's when the wailing of upset babies, ringing phones, and loud talking began.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Wakasa happened to be in the watch room with the two of you, acting as the discreet wing man once he spotted you both on the way in. Waka did his part and helped jam the signals of any moviegoers who were on the phone when they shouldn't have been. Many complaints followed by irritated teens and adults alike exited the theater to get better reception to their dropped calls or messages they couldn't send, falling into the trap of being kicked out via signal jammers. If they came with kids, the kids would be escorted to their families to avoid the risk of leaving them unsupervised. It's not like they would be allowed to come back inside once they were out anyway.

With the amount of noise now back at acceptable levels, you could hear the movie and enjoy your large shared bucket of popcorn that you got for the two of you to share. Although you both weren't focused on the movie, moreso on one another as you both softly conversed in the back row while munching on your snacks and sipping your respective drinks. Really, you two were using the time to get better acquainted with one another by learning about your common interests and what lives you two lived. By the time you two noticed the movie was nearly over, you felt kinda bad for not watching it because you didn't know what the movie was about.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding when Shinichiro admitted he wasn't really focused either. He'd already seen the movie several times so it didn't really matter, but he still had a great time with you and that's all that really mattered at the end of the day. The movie could have been absolute garbage and he'd much rather talk with you than watch it because he really liked you. You'll admit that,on some level, part of you is happy that other girls aren't attracted to Shinichiro and think they're out of his league. Because you aren't too sure you'd have been able to compete otherwise if there had been anyone else that was interested. If it were up to you, you'd keep this handsome,dorky sweetheart of a boy all to yourself and Shinichiro wouldn't mind it. If this is what being loved feels like, then he's all yours and how can he refuse someone as sweet as you if you ever suggested being his one and only lover? He can't and he won't.

I hope I did Shinichiro justice 👉👈 Same with Wakasa and the other boys too, they haven't been animated yet but with how they act in the manga, I assume they're a couple of bros that fuck around and tease their leader about his failing love life. They might shit on him for it but hey, they aren't your friends if they don't at least try to help set you up with someone they think you have a shot with or try to cheer you up if you've been rejected back to back. Bros roast each other but they've got each other's backs when they need it.

#tokyo revengers #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro sano Tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #wakasa imaushi #Benkei #takeomi akashi #arashi keizou #tok rev

[ashwhowrites]

Bitchy & mean reader

Y/N was a spoiled brat

She got what she wanted

And she destroyed whoever got in her way

She wasn't nice

Popular because people feared her

Never bothered to have many friends

She doesn't do the fake shit

Boys wanted her

And wanted her bad

But she'd ruin them in seconds

Leave them wishing they never tried in the first place

The day she set her eyes on Eddie Munson

She knew he had no option but to be hers

She fucked him on the first date

Had him crying and begging in seconds

He was a gorgeous crier

Didn't bother to listen to the rumours when he came to school, neck covered in hickies

His puppy eyes following her every move

It happened to every guy in the school

Many felt bad for Eddie

Until they noticed he got special treatment

She actually talked to him the next day

Shoving her tongue down his throat in the middle of class

Grabbing his hand and moving it under her skirt in the bathroom stall

He felt like he died and went to hell

This girl was no way making it to heaven

She loved that he was a soft boy

Quickly protecting him everywhere they went

Two boys were shoving each other in the hallway, one ended up smacking Eddie into a locker

He groaned as he held his head

"WATCH WHAT YOU ARE DOING YOU PRICKS" she screamed. Shoving both boys as hard as she could.

Both smacking into the lockers behind them

Her heated glare disappeared in seconds when her eyes landed on his puppy eyes

"you okay baby?"

Or when a girl decided to trip Eddie in the cafeteria

Laughing as he landed harshly on the ground

She marched over to the table in seconds

Grabbing the girl by her hair and yanking her off her seat

"YOU TOUCH HIM AGAIN AND I'LL KILL YOU!"

Her eyes and tone soft as she helped him up

"it's okay baby. Let's go home"

Or when a server had the nerve to get his order wrong

Eddie excitedly took the bun off of his burger, preparing to drown it in ketchup

A small frown took over his face

"baby what's wrong?" She caught on quickly

"it has mustard. I hate mustard" he admitted quietly

Grabbing a knife and preparing to scrape it off

But she snatched the plate away, marching up to the counter

"BABY ITS FINE" he yelled quickly

Not wanting her to cause a scene

Her pink heels clicked on the floor as she waited

"can I help you?" The server asked

With a polite smile, "my boyfriend asked for no mustard. Would you be able to make him a new one please?"

She may be a bitch but she had manners

Unless they didn't have manners back

"I'm sorry ma'am but he never said that"

"you calling my boyfriend a liar?"

Eddie heard her voice getting mad

Quickly sliding out of the booth to calm her down

"baby it's fine" he said sweetly. Kissing her cheek

"no baby. You want no mustard and you ordered it with no mustard" she said sternly

"no he didn't" the server snapped back

"YES HE DID! HE WANTS A BURGER, SLIGHTLY PINK WITH NO FUCKING MUSTARD!"

Another time they forgot his extra pickles

"is your food right baby?" She asked sweetly

Her pink nails holding his hand

He nodded and lied through his teeth

"perfect"

She eyed his plate

"did you get your extra pickles?" She asked, noticing his plate didn't seem to have a single pickle on it

"no but that's okay. I don't really want them anymore"

But her ass was already walking away

Her tiny skirt flowing on her hips as she walked with purpose

Seconds later coming back with a plate of pickles

Free of charge :)

Eddie simply got whatever he asked for

She had money and she'd buy him anything he wanted

The blue guitar he kept seeing at the mall?

She bought it a day later

The leather jacket he tried on but put back when he saw the price?

She yanked it right off the rack, shoving it in her cart

If he wanted three types of candies at the movie theater, her baby got all three

She was a bitch

A stone cold mean asshole

But with Eddie?

That was her baby

And she would cherish him for life

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanon #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie Munson x rich reader #Eddie Munson x bitch reader

[naveries]

call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

Pairing: non-idol!beomgyu × f!reader

Synopsis: Within the walls of your academy, you unfortunately find yourself targeted by jealous peers due to your relationship with the campus' sweetheart, Choi Beomgyu. Enduring the harassment, you begin to struggle to shield yourself from the malicious rumours, harsh judgement and pranks being pulled by his fangirls. And worst of all, you couldn't even bring yourself Beomgyu about it either.

Word Count: 7,801

Warnings! petnames (baby, beomie bear, my love, sweet girl), mentions of relationships reader and Beomgyu are already in an established relationship, mentions of heavy bullying, mentions of violence, mentions of harassment, mentions of school (y/n is quite smart), mentions of hugging and a lot of physical affection, mentions of school, reader can be really sad, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of sensuality, mentions of kissing, actual kissing, beomgyu gets upset, a lot of hugging, crying, pretend that Beomgyu and Taehyun are the same age!

[Friday, 7:32PM]

@ my beomie bear🧸: heyy you 👀 you called? @ my beomie bear🧸: sorry baby, i was at soccer practice.

@ my love 💘: it’s okay, don’t worry about it. but can u come over?

@ my beomie bear 🧸: like... right now? 🤨

@ my love 💘: yes now. it's IMPORTANT!!! @ my love 💘: this isn’t a want it’s a NEED 🤧 @ my love 💘: …unless you’re busy which is FINE. just FINE.

@ my beomie bear 🧸: you're cute hehe. im there soon, count on it ❤️ @ my beomie bear 🧸: [Attachment: 1 image]

(photo of him outside and his hand is holding on the handle of his bike about to leave)

For the past few weeks or so, you had been the target of multiple petty, jealous girls’s humiliating pranks because of the mere fact you were dating the campus sweetheart.

And that left you in a constant state of stress and anticipation, feeling as if everyone is staring at you, judging you, comparing your flaws that even you can’t seem to grace yourself for having them.

You were always greeted with either the cold glare from girls in your class or hallways, trying to figure why the hell Choi Beomgyu had chosen you over them.

Or maybe that he had no idea of who you actually were before you had been pulled into a secluded corner of the school being told that his heart found solace with you by the latter himself.

But people thought otherwise of you. This self entitled bland bitch. Someone who had no right holding his heart.

And while you were doing a good job at concealing your reaction, feelings from everyone else who would find satisfaction in your crumbling, today you just felt fed up.

You shouldn’t keep this from him, especially with how these girls claim to not stop until you stop seeing him all together.

And you didn't want that, not over any kind of pride you stood on.

Yet these girls were relentless, and took whatever chance to harass you and make you feel miserable as hell whenever they could. Despite the attempts you made to confront them and getting them to stop, it was almost comical how they acted as if you were the crazy one for asking such a thing as apparently, it’s entitled of you do so when you already have Beomgyu.

The shoving and tripping in the hallways, the nasty rumours about how Beomgyu is dating you on a bet or how he doesn’t even like you that much anyway. You knew that they weren’t true but it was still hard to walk around school for the past few weeks. Uncomfortable to around halls, classrooms, filled with these people who assumed the worst of the worst of you and your relationship with Beomgyu.

You were once so cheery, greeting friends with Hello’s and curious How are you doing today?’s, you found yourself now held down by the hate being expressed towards you daily.

You were torn, you imagined the moments you began noticing you had begun developing feelings for Beomgyu, and then the time Beomgyu had taken you to the music room to confess to you through a song he had been working on, and then the flashes of those girls holding you down against the sink as they laughed at your distress.

"Ha... you're really low. Can't even get me without cornering me. What? Safety in numbers?" You spat, trying to wringle your arms free but there was no use.

"Shut up" a girl from behind came in front of you and slapped you. Your cheek searing with pain from the slap, your expression was unrelenting to give in. But they laughed anyway "says the girl tied down to the sink."

You were unable to move anything as they pulled at your hair and mocked you for looking so helpless, not being able to defend yourself despite them holding you against your will. The words felt more like physical torture as they continued on. deserves better You couldn’t help but feel so disgusted in yourself as this whole thing dragged on for what felt like hours.

“Beomgyu deserves someone, anyone better than you.” The girl holding you down against the sink chuckles, you tried to say more but they held your face under the running cold water. “Look at you, you can’t even defend yourself, let alone him.”

And you believed them.

It was as soon as a Teacher walked in from all the noise inside the bathroom and caught the girls, you dashed out of there so fast and went straight home. Not caring about your bag you left behind, Taehyun who would probably wonder where you were or the fact that you were gonna be marked absent for your next class. You couldn’t take it anymore, it was as if your insides were being crushed and tormented and you can’t do anything about it even if you pleaded for things it to stop.

Your Mom saw the distress twisted into your usual smile and decided to not question why you were home until you’ve processed things for yourself.

You locked yourself in your room for about an hour or three, unable to move from your bed. It was only until your Mom carefully knocked on your door, asking you if you wanted to speak to Taehyun who had stopped by with your jacket and things.

You decided that getting up and saying a simple Thank you wouldn’t hurt, you didn’t want him to worry either. You’ve enough distress anyway. You just needed something different right now.

But what surprised you the most wasn’t that he was still here sitting on your couch waiting for you or that his expression changed as soon as he laid his eyes on your distraught eyes, but what he says next, “What did those girls do to you?”

You stood there facing him frozen and your eyes wide, “But… how did you know?” you asked, unable to process the shock that he knows.

Looking at you, he could tell that this had been weighing down on you for so long and that you had no idea what to do about things up until now. And so without a second thought, you watched Taehyun as he stood up and carefully walked over to your shaken figure. And without even hesitating he pulls you into an embrace.

You were expecting a lecture that would claw at your insides further on how you had dealt with everything so wrong and that the people around you deserved better than what you were making of the situation. You were mentally preparing yourself up until now. And right now, you felt as if you had been acknowledged for what you were feeling and who you are in this whole situation.

And instead of you trying to hold it together up until now, you finally let yourself break from everything you had withheld, tear after tear until they wouldn’t stop flowing and you let out a choked out sob. Taehyun’s arms held you tighter at the sound of that. “You’re pretty incredible for holding out this long you know,” he said as he patted your back. Still hugging you in the middle of your living room. “but I promise were not the type of people to not take in your feelings over other people’s opinions on our lives. Especially when they choose to take it out on someone else involved with us, especially you Y/N”, letting all the l guilt and shame that you had been drowning yourself in.

“Beomgyu would want to know.” he says his voice calm, you can hear the sense of urgency through his voice.

“I didn’t wanna bother him. This whole thing is—”

“This isn’t your fault Y/N.” he interrupts you, knowing you were about to blame yourself.

“I’m his girlfriend! I should’ve done something more than… this” you stress, struggling to get the words out but somehow he understands you. “I hate that I feel so useless throughout this whole thing.”

Taehyun isn’t as good with feelings in comparison to Beomgyu so it takes him a minute to catch up. But as he takes a moment to piece everything you’ve expressed to him from his perspective, he tries again.

“Our academy is highly populated, even 2000 students alone in out grade and only the best of the best can survive.” he says, you not knoeing where he’s taking this but you patiently wait for him to continue.

“Beomgyu is pretty well known to almost each and every student in the building. And from what I’m aware as well, you’ve also been part of the top highest grading students in our year since we started at the academy.” Still lost in what he’s trying to get at.

“So with a competition of a thousand girls, possibly even boys, he chose you from the many. And with good reason Ms. Top Student.” he teases you but from his confident, well thought out delivery, it makes your heartache from how he took the time to find the right words.

You stood silent for a second letting his words digest into your system and you exhale.

“It’s still not top in the whole school.” you’re perfectionist self reasoned before sniffling again. Taehyun in response, was that he dropped his forehead dramatically on your shoulder with an exaggerated sigh in exhaustion and you giggle.

“Thanks Tyunie.” you say with a light hearted tone, your mood better than what it had been before. You pat the top of his head and he lifts his head to face you. You can never tell why someone like him would be mistaken for someone cold and unapproachable when really, Kang Taehyun was just quiet.

But that didn’t mean he was cold-hearted, because once you got to know him, the way he displayed his affection towards you and his friends, through physical actions rather than words, was so raw and genuine that it never left you to doubt him for a second.

Even as someone who found it hard to break your shell around even your closest of friends.

“You should really tell him though, he deserves to know and I really think that this would help not just you but this whole thing as well.” Taehyun says and you’re able to match the seriousness he put the atmosphere comfortably, rather than if this was happening a few minutes before.

“But what if—”

“And no more ‘but what ifs’, you have to talk to him first.”

He’s looking at you with a look that says you know I’m right and not knowing what else to counteract with, you just sigh in admission.

“Alright.”

A few minutes after your talk with Taehyun, your Mom finally came back out from the other room and into the kitchen where you had begun brewing tea for Taehyun and possibly some hot chocolate for him to bring on his way home.

Your Mom adored Taehyun and was happy to engage in some small talk with him about how his school had been and how he has been as well. Taehyun on the other hand really didn’t have much issues talking with your Mom either because just like you, and also from what your other friends have claimed in the past as well, your warmth and welcoming personality was definitely a trait you got from your Mom.

And soon enough, you bid Taehyun another Thank you to which he responded that he was happy to help you anytime.

[Friday, 08:00 PM]

And so here you were, after mulling over your talk with Taehyun and what had you been doing the past week, the inability to complete any task because of the plague that had been burdening your peace of mind, and several panic attacks throughout the day.

You decided that over anything else, you wanted— no, needed to see Beomgyu. You needed to tell him everything.

And after a few miss calls on his end, you wait for what felt like forever (in reality was actually just 3 minutes), he sends you a message saying that he was in soccer practice, but was able to make it to you.

And with little to no patience today you couldn’t fight the urge to just sit there and wait until he got to you. So you went ahead to put on any kind of thick sweater and socks to keep you warm from the cold air and went outside to sit down and wait til Beomgyu got there. You watched as cars and people pass by until maybe the next would be him. You felt a bit silly making eye contact with unsuspecting strangers, but you couldn’t help the anticipation that was eating your heart away.

And in a grey hoodie you knew all too well, relief that took over your mind overwhelmingly, butterflies that came swarming around at the bottom of your stomach at the sight of the stature pedalling on his bike up to you.

You couldn’t see his entire reaction to you sitting there waiting for him, one reason because of the mask and the other being because your eye sight is shit from all those all-nighters you’ve pulled, to your mother’s dismay, watching those rom-com movies all night until the sun came up.

But that changed until after he parked his bike at the bike rack, and pulled his mask off to find your favourite sight in the world, Choi Beomgyu.

"Y/N." Beomgyu called out to you in a shaky breath, probably from biking from school all the way to your home, no doubt in a rush looking at his slightly disheveled sweater and uneven breaths. His tone was much different to his usual energetic personality, you can see the comfort that overtook his eyes seeing you there already waiting for him. Jogging up to you as he engulfed you in a tight hug, spinning you around. Both sighs of relief and laughter were what was exchanged between you two. Your hoodie falling off of your head from being spun by him and it took you a quick minute to go against the quick wind and wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face onto the crook of it and the sweet scent of his shampoo.

His spin slows and your words are muffled by his grey sweater. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Putting you down, you pulled away thinking that he would just follow you back to the bench or inside where a heater is, but he immediately engulfs you in an unexpected hug.

You're standing on the tips of your shoes with your arms still hooked under his shoulders. If he were to let go right now then you would probably topple over on your bottom. But his arms are wrapped so tightly around you, your body is flush against his chest.

"Y/N… Taehyun mentioned that you went home early, Is something wrong?" he asks his voice is soft and quiet. You can hear both the curiosity and concern laced in his voice and your whole mood flips back into anxiousness.

With one arm still holding you, his hand goes up to the back of your head and threads through each strand of your hair. "There's been something bothering you all week and I didn’t wanna pry but-" Your muscles tense up and your body freezes, and that confirms his worry as he can feel you tensing up against him.

You slowly push yourself from his embrace and he helps steady you on your heels again. Your head is hanging low, unable to move yourself as you can't bring yourself to look him in the eye yet when tears are threatening to spill out from your eyes. Beomgyu frowns as he watches you shy away from him. He's holding onto you by your elbows and you're holding onto him for your body's support.

"I know we haven’t been dating for long," He speaks up, his low voice so calm but still enough that you could hear the seriousness in his tone. "but I can still tell the difference in how you’re feeling Y/N."

Beomgyu had figured out that you had been hiding something from him, before you can tell him. What was he gonna think now? That this won’t work between you two because you didn’t tell him?

Beomgyu picks up on the fact that you don’t know what else to do in this moment and gently places a finger beneath your chin, raising it up so that you could finally meet his eyes again. You expected him to be upset, a frown that didn’t belong on his lip. But instead you’re met with his endeared expression, an assuring smile that calms the turmoil inside of you. The worry dissipating from your features was all he needed to see before this look in his eyes, that you cant seem to read, watches as his hand cups your face and his thumb moves from beneath your chin to rub over your cheek gently. You flush in response to his sudden change in demeanour.

Still with his thumb gently caressing your flushed cheek, his eyes meets yours again. “I’m your boyfriend for a reason you know.” he says and you’re still frozen in place.

Your gaze subconsciously trickles down to his lips afor a split second and you scold yourself internally for not having any sense of decorum or decency during a time like this. The pink that was already staining your cheeks worsened to a crimson. You drop your forehead to his chest, shying away from the temptation that came along with his annoyingly beautiful features.

"L-let's go inside first…" You mumble, barely loud enough but he hears you anyway.

You rest the side of your head against his sweater where you could feel the beating of his heart, Ba-bump, ba-bump. You wanted to relish in the calm before the distressing, lengthy explanation you owed him came, better to talk about it in the comfort of your room.

He moves his head up, spacing out into the distance and rests his chin on your head. Nerves prickling over his skin by the thought of what it is you want to say to him. Had he done something he didn't realize he was doing? You usually tell him everything, what was so different now?

His hands running up and down over your arms for another moment until a strong wind gust pass the two of you and he feels your figure shiver in response. He gently pulls your bodies apart and takes ahold of your hand. "It's much more warmer inside, let's get my baby inside." Beomgyu says, flashing you a soft smile and you just watch as he turns his head around, your hand in his, leading you inside.

[Friday, 08:13 PM]

Once inside your room, Beomgyu lets go of your hand and went to your dresser and opened the top drawer where he kept his own clothes if ever he stayed over.

You on the other hand quietly tip-toed into the room, cautiously closing the door behind you, a careful click, careful not to wake anyone up.

The last thing you would need was your famiky assuming that you and Beomgyu were up to anything else that could possibly result in the terror that would haunt your Mom and Dad, and quite possibly Beomgyu’s parents as well, to know that Beomgyu was sneaking into your bedroom in the middle of the night, doing something that would require little to no talking. It was hard enough to convince your parents to let him stay over, let alone in your room, in the middle of the night.

You insisted he stayed over quite oftenly to the point it was easier for him to leave clothes at your place instead of bring a bag of his things. He even had his own toothbrush, his own brown slippers with bears on it.

You couldn’t hide the excitement and adrenaline rush that came the first time Beomgyu had been snowed in at your house. After spending the whole day with you, a bad storm came down on your town to the point where the snow had basically covered the entirety of the front door, also the only way for Beomgyu to leave. Both his and your parents agreed that it was fine as long as Beomgyu slept in a different room. Although much to their dismay, they found you dozing away, curled up, tucked in his embrace under the same blanket as him the next morning.

The kind of relief and fulfillment that over took your body when waking up next to him was a joy you never would get tired off. Him enveloped in your arms, or his arms hugging you close from behind every morning and doing mundane things by his side was why, tangled limbs under your silk mattress.

This was never for the sake of sex since you both were still virgins. But that could also change any time soon judging from how quick chaste kisses on your bed turned into you straddling his waist and his hands pulling you flush against him by your waist. Devouring your sweet whines with such fervency. Who was to tell? But that was a story for later.

Right now you needed to focus on calming your nerves before explaining the situation with these girls at school.

Turning around to face Beomgyu but your eyes widen as you stumbled backwards, a thud against your door loud enough to probably wake up everyone in the house. Leaving any attempt at being sneaky and quiet quite literally out the door. The culprit being the sight of Beomgyu’s bare chest as he is seemingly changing into a new shirt.

Beomgyu jumps at the loud thud of you hitting the door. “Holy shit Y/N, are you o—” He tries to make his way to you before you quickly raise your hand in protest.

“Put on your shirt first! Are you crazy? Why are you changing here when usually change in the bathroom?!” you quietly yell at him, loud enough that he can only hear.

“Calm down, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You were doing your best to be really quiet earlier I didn’t think want to make anymore noise.” You’re astounded by genuinely confused he’s being and the fact that he thought you would have expected him to change here to save the noise. He had a point but still! “At least a warning Choi Beomgyu!”

“Here I thought it wouldn’t be a big deal anyway.” He says unbothered and aggravatingly calm. “You’ve seen me shirtless before haven’t you?”

“When have I seen you shirtless?” You exclaim quietly yet agitatedly. Getting up from the floor, covering your eyes with one hand while the other pushed you up.

He takes a moment putting on his shirt and lets you know that you can look now before he continues. “Those baby pictures you asked for that my Mom sent last week?” he says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your eye twitched.

He’s not being serious now… “That’s so different! Baby Beomgyu then not wearing a shirt in contrast to teenager Beomgyu now is so freaking different!” you shrieked quietly, grabbing the sweater hanging by your door and you flail it in his decision. He catches it and chuckles at your fuming fury.

“Okay, okay I get it! My shirt is on now. Now c’mere so I can hug and kiss these silly nerves away.” he said, pulling you into his arms and wrapped one arm around your head and one around your waist. Obviously amused from how flustered you’ve become from simply seeing him shirtless. He hadn���t intended to be so bold with you, but your reaction was so adorable to him he couldn’t resist teasing you.

“You’re amazing.” you roll your eyes, you both know that you didn’t at all mean that in a good way but still he huffs proudly. You don’t see his face, but you can tell by his simple huff and tone that he has the most smug expression on his face. He’s honestly the worst.

You pull apart from Beomgyu as you went outside to wash up and also to give yourself a breather because you’re heart was still racing from the sight of Beomgyu’s bare chest. What the hell was he thinking you didn’t have an answer to them in the moment but he really does like getting you worked up just to get a reaction out of you.

You have to explain to your Mom that Beomgyu was just trying to tease you by scaring the crap out of you. And well, for some reason (your Mom knowing Beomgyu’s personality well enough) that was all she needed to hear and then after excusing herself back into her bedroom to sleep.

You could swear you can hear her holding back laughs from the other side of the door. You sigh and storm back to the bathroom to wash up as you were going to earlier.

You’re now just watching him as he moves around so comfortably in his home clothes, clad in a lazy oversized white shirt and some jogging pants, nothing special but you did love seeing him in white. He just looked so at home whilst manoeuvring around your bed and that made your heart skip a beat at the thought of it.

Patting down and airing out your sheets before flattening it again for you both to lie in.

Because to you, no matter how sad you were, where ever Beomgyu went, as long as he was there you. Your heart felt unbelievably full at the sight of him, the way you would simply just exist and how he would respond to it, it made you feel like you were really living your youth the way it was always suppose to be.

He turns around finished, taking a double take at the bed and plushies before he looks to you across the room. And you’re looking like a deer caught in headlights.

He gives you curious look, “What is it?” he breathes out a laugh. Wondering why you’re staring at him as if he’s still so far away when he’s finally beside you again.

You take a moment to take it in longer before your gaze wanders elsewhere. Your hands coming up to the sides of your arm to hold and ease the nerves.

“I just didn’t want anything else other than being with you right now.” you say, your eyebrows furrowed. You weren’t looking at him but to the left of his general direction.

You could tell that the atmosphere was building up to talk about what had been happening to you this past week and though you were still nervous, you know you needed to talk Beomgyu about this.

“I… didn’t wanna…” Tears already welling up in your eyes as you tried recounting each and every thing you’ve endured the past week. “I've just felt so disgusting this past week” your pride hanging low the moment you’re finally able to say something coherent you cant hold back whatever begins spilling out of your mouth at that moment.

“They were just rumours and a couple of mean girls... So what?! I thought. And here I foolishly thought it wouldn’t become worst from there.” You said, swallowing the lump that had been building up at the back of your throat.

“They cornered me in the bathroom," your vision blurring, you brought your hands to your elbows from how disgusting you felt.

"They pushed my body against the sink the whole time to the point where it was digging into my skin. They just kept pulling on my hair while they were telling me all these… things. I couldn’t… how terrified I felt in that moment and it was entertainment or something for them" your voice trembling, breaking into incoherent parts. Somehow he still understood what you meant, watching you attentively.

"How pathetic I looked in that moment, how someone like me... how we could ever belong together.” A deep breath steadied your composure but you were still dripping with guilt.

You look away blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill out "Fuck, I just feel so disgusting now. I let them get under my skin, and I began thinking that maybe they're right I-"

Your voice breaks in the middle of your sentence as a tear strays from your eyes, your expression searing with anger and frustration.

“Especially with everything being such a catastrophe I- it’s so petty and frustrating I just-” you press, “I really- I just need help.”

If it wasn't for the fucked up things you had just told him about, simply the sound of the word "help" leaving your mouth would have done enough for him to know that this is bad. He feels as if all movement in the world had stopped.

Beomgyu knows better than anyone else how much you hate asking for help. The only time you ever ask for help is when you feel like you can't twist and squeeze anymore energy out of you to cater to your own heart and well being.

But he also wishes to step in when he could, as your boyfriend he wants you to depend on him to pick up the slack not only to have the work out of the way for you but because he loves doing things like this. Especially when it's just for you.

Still looking at you, your eyes trail up his figure, your eyebrows in a knot, your eyes pulling at his strings. And his heart sinks at the thought of you carrying something so painful, so unfairly heavy on your own. Knowing how you never wanna be like other cruel people you've met in your life and blame others, probably blaming yourself for these people being mad at you when it isn't something you can control.

He walks up to your figure, and feverishly gently takes the side of your jaw in his palms and brings your lips to his. Eyebrows furrowed as his lips taste yours, he gently on your bottom so fervently and pull you closer to him. His hands snaking down to your waist as he pulls your body against his, your arms flying to the back his neck serving as your only means of stability.

You’re surprised by his sudden fervency, you kiss him back anyway. Tilt your head to the side, you deepen the kiss and he presses into you a little bit more, his lips move against yours so skillfully it makes your stomach swarm by how good he’s gotten since you stole his first kiss not too long ago.

“Beomgyu-” you say against his lips, trying to catch a breath but his lips chase yours a few more times, leaving you breathless.

You could tell you by whenever his lips attached to yours there was something different he was feeling inside. It wasn’t excitement exactly, it wasn’t lust either, but you could tell that something was stirring inside of that pretty head of his.

He then sudden breaks the kiss, his forehead resting on yours. You see how swollen his lips have gotten from the unusual aggression he put into the kiss, his lips plumped in a deep magenta. And the sight suddenly leaves your head feeling as light as a balloon.

He then rests his chin on your shoulder as he pulls you impossibly closer, your body arching as his hands pulls the small of your back flush against him.

The room is filled with the sound of your air conditioning and the sound of both you trying to catch your breaths again, you can feel how fast he’s breathing against your chest too.

“Y/N” His voice low resonates in your ears and you can hear the urgency tied in with his tone as well as the sounds of yours and his breathing being filling the loud silence in the room. You still feel a bit surprised to his sudden change in tone, first the kiss and now his seriousness.

Beomgyu gently pulls away at the sound of it and he quickly takes your face in his palm and wipes away the tear that escaped, "Don't keep things like this tp yourself," he reassures you.

He stares at eyes full of concern and his brows in knot. You place your hand onto his arm that's cupping your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You shouldn’t have to deal them, not anymore, I know and I'm here now." he reassured

Beomgyu's arms wrapped around you more, patting your back, a bitter frown etched on the corner of his lips. If on a normal day, you would've found it to be a bit too tight for your liking, but given that your nerves seemed to have a mind of its own poking at you, his embrace served as an anchor.

But much to your dismay, you watch him as he slowly pulls you away farther. You're about to ask what's wrong, but he hides his expression with his fingers pressed against his temples.

“I'm sorry, I just-" Beomgyu lets out a bitter laugh. His hand falling from his face and you're faced with an expression that was hard to read.

"When I heard some guys in the locker room chuckling about the rumours that had been going around you, I nearly lost my mind because I was so angry." he confessed, letting out an emotionless laugh, the words slipping out with a controlled restraint.

His voice, though measured, hinted at a seething frustration. You frowned at the sight of his frustration. He isn't the type to lose his genuine cool easily. He goes along with whatever and fixes what he can because he's the type who wants to keep moving forward. Even when he was overreacting with his loud nature, it was always humorous and he was always gentle under all that energy.

But right now, an uncharacteristic calmness settled over his features. A chilling intensity in his gaze, a strain was visible from the subtle twitch of his jaw.

Your heart panged in your chest at the sight of this side of him, the thought of his rare anger bubbling out all because of you made you feel an overwhelming amount of guilt.

“had' a ton things I wanted to say to those guys talking about you so crudely. Give em' a piece of my fucking mind-."

"Beomgyu." Your voice an anchor.

It was a quiet whisper but with weight behind it. You approach him and place a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, you can calm down. I'm here, see?"

Beomgyu sighed heavily, as he reached for your hand, taking it in his. "I just... I hate that you went through all that alone," he confesses, his voice sounding guilty, breaking through his previous frustration. "I can't control what people will say or do about me, but coming for my girlfriend is another story"

His words hang heavy, you gently took his shoulders as you turned him to face you.

"You couldn't have known. If anything, it's my fault for keeping this from you," you tried to reassure him as you searched for his eyes, eyes that were too ashamed to even look at you.

Beomgyu's face hardened at the sound you taking responsibility for everything that had happened to you, his brows furrowing in disapproval as if it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

"None of this is your fault Princess." he says with resolute in his voice. "I can't control what people will say or do about me, but coming for my girlfriend is another story" he say with determination, his eyes meeting yours again with protectiveness in his gaze.

"You've done all that you can, I love that you wanted to keep up a fight but let me take it from here, okay? Both as your best friend and as your boyfriend I'll set things straight.”

You attempted to summon your usual bright smile in response, a testament to your resilience. However, the weight of the situation proved too heavy, and your expression faltering. "Thing is," you began, your voice carrying a hint of exhaustion, "I just knew something like this might happen because of your reputation around campus,"

Beomgyu listened attentively, his eyes filled with concern as he listened to how you had put so much pressure onto yourself when none of this wasn't even your fault. "but I wanted to handle this because I knew I wouldn't be able to live with myself knowing anyone, especially you, thought that I can't defend myself as your girlfriend."

"It makes me hate myself even more since I’ve only just made things worst for everyone.” your voice tinged with drain and a vulnerability that you rarely showed.

Beomgyu's heart ached at your confession. He cupped your face gently, guiding your gaze to meet his.

"Hey," his tone gentle yet firm. "You're not alone in this, you have me, remember? "Your well-being is my priority, hm?" leaning up to pressing a kiss to your forehead. An overwhelming sense of comfort and ease washing over you. Closing your eyes, a couple tears fall from your lashes.

He then moves down to kiss the wet skin under your eye and then pulls you into a comforting embrace. offering a tender smile. "And, love, you haven't made things worse for anyone. If anything, you've shown incredible strength in facing this head-on."

His face full of concern, you couldn't bring yourself to move feeling as if one small step would leave you falling through your carpet and into the core of the Earth.

Noticing this, his arms enveloped you in an embrace, a safe haven amidst the chaos of emotions.

You stood still for a moment but you slowly your head rested against his chest, the tension you had been holding onto slowly began to melt away in the warmth of his embrace.

You found a sense of security you hadn't realized you needed. The weight on your shoulders lifted. And for the first time that night, you let yourself relax, finding solace in the warmth his arms.

After a moment, it took everything in you to find the feeling, the words that carrying the weight of the emotions you were grappling with.

"Thank you," you say against his shirt. Yours glistened with unshed tears, but this time, they were tears of relief.

"My big crybaby," Beomgyu laughs softly, endearment in his voice. His laughter dives down and he pulls you away, taking a minute to examine your face for a moment, leaning forward as he presses two more kisses over your eyes, shutting your eyes tight before his lips meet your skin.

"You're okay baby, don’t be too hard on yourself. You have me for that”.

Your eyes widening as you processed his words. You pull away from him and slap his shoulder and he breaks out in a fit of giggles. You groan loudly, now of all times you think to yourself. Despite your glaring, it doesn't stop the sudden twist in your stomach that came at the sight of his gorgeous smile.

"Seriously?" you press, as he calms down and your own laughter mingling with a playful exasperation. "Can't we have a moment without your cheeky comments?"

He couldn't help but chuckle again at your reaction, his laughter a welcome relief amidst the heavy atmosphere. "Hey, I had to lighten the mood somehow," he teased, "Besides, I can't let you drown in all this seriousness. Gotta keep you on your toes."

You barely suppress a scoff as he's coaxing you back into his arms again, he hums despite your annoyance and squeezes you gently.

You shake head, but a small smile plays on your lips. "You're insufferable, are you aware of that?" you say. Your tone a mix of annoyance and affection.

He winks at you, his tone still light. "But you love me anyway."

"Unfortunately" you let out a soft sigh, leaning into Beomgyu's embrace, appreciating the lightheartedness he brought to the heavy situation.

Beomgyu chuckles, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

[Friday, 12:53 AM]

After your breakdown, you and Beomgyu layed curled up in each others arms between your silk sheets for hours, as the rest of the world slipped away. A tranquil refuge from the cruel reality you had been fighting, laid to rest.

Beomgyu gently traced circles on your back, his touch a soothing balm to your emotional recovery. In the quiet intimacy of the moment, his arms a gentle touch that was so comforting you can almost hear it echo through the room.

"How are you feeling?” he hums, swiping away the hair fallen onto your face. You feel like swooning with how gentle his skin is against your features.

“I mean, the stress is still there, like what might happen on when we get back to school but…” You drawl.

“But I just want to stay here now, my body wants to stay close to you” You say looking up to him. You notice a look in his eyes, his eyes that seem to have been focused on you.

You thought back to that bitter feeling of fore-lonely-ness lingering inside of you earlier today, it was when you dragged your eyes back up to his eyes you realized, Not anymore.

"I'm right here" his voice as soft as linen, he smiles so gentle, yet sweet, the whisker under his eyes appear.

A soft smile played on your lips as your heart swelled with devastating affection towards the boy in your bed.

“You are” you say, your fingers brushing against his cheek, his left eye closest to your hand squinting a bit and your heart twinges at the sight of him doing that.

You felt incredibly vulnerable yet comfortable as he left himself entirely open to you as well. Your body felt as if it was floating,.

“I really am lucky that it was you that I ended up with” your voice a whisper and muffled, your eyes closing as you nestle into the curve of his neck

"I think I'm the lucky one baby," he replied with a casual nonchalance, as if trying to one-up you. The sound of him failing to suppress his laughter reverberated through his chest.

You pulled away slightly, looking him dead in the eye. His laughter only intensified as your eyes met, his eyes tightly shut he looked like that one laughing emoji.

"Really?" you question, an annoyed glint in your eyes.

His laughter subsided as he leans down to rest his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed before relaxing again. "Yeah, really. You're everything to me, Y/N." he confessed, his eyes opening to look at you with a tantalizing gaze, unwavering.

Your heart sank to your stomach at his words as you stared at him in awe, not being able to move, not even inch away from his gaze.

You think back to how earlier, you were in the same bed except you felt like you were falling so painfully slowly into a grey void. And now, you've found yourself home again. Beomgyu’s arms around you being the only thing you need.

A voice inside you spoke to your heart, it was from realization on who your heart really belonged to.

Sorry honey, but I'm no longer yours, you're his.

BONUS I [Monday, 07:51 AM]

The following Monday, you were walking through the halls that morning towards your locker, the weight of the previous week's events still lingering in the air. Hushed whispers and stifled laughter echoing from the students around you, the same hurtful rumours circulating like wildfire. Everyone seemingly taking a more malicious pleasure in the whispers that followed you.

As you passed by the groups of gossiping students, you couldn't escape the feeling of judgment piercing through your back, no doubt reminiscent of the scene that had taken place in the bathroom last Friday.

Your nerves tensed even more as you spotted those same girls down the hall, their nasty smiles perhaps signalling another potential scene.

Your heart was beating loud inside of your ears and your anxiety reaching another high when a familiar voice called out your name from behind. And before you could turn around to see who it was, a familiar hand slipped into yours.

Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced up to see your boyfriend.

He had a serious expression on his face. He shot an intimidating look at, quite literally, anyone who dared to glance in your direction. The hallway, once filled with judgmental gazes, now held a palpable weight of authority that radiated from him.

Dare even say you found this side of him a bit hot.

You notice Beomgyu stare holding in place at a specific place in front of the two of you and it wasn't hard to figure out who he was eyeing down as you looked toward the culprits.

Their once confident smiles were now unsure glances between each other, his presence alone seemed to have cast a shadow over their intentions. Beomgyu his gaze was enough to let them know that you are, and always has been, his choice.

And without a moment longer, they quickly dispersed into different ways except for the path that led to you and Beomgyu.

Letting out a heavy sigh, the tensity in posture relaxing as his shoulders fall down.

"May I walk you to class fair maiden?" he teased, wagging his eyebrows and offering you a knowing smile.

A genuine smile broke across your face. "You may, fair knight."

BONUS II [Monday, 8:00 AM]

As you both reached your locker, Beomgyu continued the banter. "So, my princes, any quests or dragons that need slaying with today?"

Your giggles resonates through the room and Beomgyu can't help but fall smitten at the sight of your beautiful smile. "Not today, fair knight. Your presence alone is enough."

He hums and smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

Taking the last of your books out of your locker and slamming it shut, he walks you to your first class. The hallways seemed to part as you walked with Beomgyu hand in hand, the whispers of gossip shied away into the background.

Reaching your class, you're about to bid him a Thank you and Goodbye when he leaves a chaste kiss on your cheek, catching you by surprise.

And as if that wasn't enough, he tells you an, I love you Y/N!, loud enough for everyone around you the two of you to hear. You watch his back he runs down the hall to his next class, in no doubt he's late for, as a smitten smile makes its way onto your lips.

You sit down beside Taehyun, a teasing smile on his face. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes in annoyance and he gets back to what he's doing.

Throughout class you think about everything Beomgyu has done for you since last night till this morning in the hall, confidently showing you off and defending you. And thinking back to what he had said before he sauntered off to his own class, you're whispering what you wish you had said before he turned the corner, a reply,

an I love you too.

A/N PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR A WHILE SO YK, FUN LITTLE DRABBLE 😞 LMK IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!

#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x y/n #choi beomgyu fanfic #choi beomgyu angst #txt choi beomgyu #txt beomgyu

[hannah-h-pleb]

Back with some more Cartman content because I love him 🤭

I’m going to give y’all some “Bully Cartman” headcanons. This is basically a scenario in which Cartman bullies you but only because you make him, “frustrated” if you catch my drift

Once again, everyone depicted in this is 18, so this will take place in late high school. Reader is female (or AFAB). There will be NSFW content so minors, dni

Bully! Eric Cartman x Reader Headcanons

Content Warning: NSFW content (minors dni), aged up character

In a scenario where Eric bullies you, just know that he doesn’t actually hate you, he hates what you DO to him

He watches you and how you interact with others. How you laugh with them, how you let loose and act all silly, how you smile with them, it disgusts him. Because you’re not doing it with HIM

It doesn’t help that you’re as attractive as you are either. He glares at you while staring you up and down. He likes what he sees, but that bulge in the front of his pants gets painful after awhile. You get him so turned on it hurts and you’re not even trying

Can imagine late at night when he’s thinking about you, he’s jacking himself off with a scowl on his face muttering about how stupid you are and whispering “I hate you…mh..I hate you” over and over until he cums all over himself. That’s when he finally draws the conclusion that he’s indeed attracted to you…

So, instead of taking a rational approach and trying to get your attention by acts of kindness or trying to initiate a conversation, he starts to act like a dick towards you to get your attention

How he does it varies day by day. One day as you’re passing him in the hallway he might knock your books out of your hand and tell you to “Just pick them up, it’s not fucking rocket science”, another day he might trip you as you’re walking to your desk and go “Aww, did the stupid bitch fall down and hurt herself?”

Hes not BRUTAL towards you, but he definitely harasses you every chance he gets. Here’s what he doesn’t realize though: While he’s acting like a pure ass (because he’s sexually frustrated af), you’re absolutely eating it up

You had secretly thought Eric was a very good looking guy despite how he acted towards people. But when he began to target you, that only added fuel to the fire. There was something about how cruel he could be towards you that gave you butterflies

In a way, he was winning. He had gotten into your head which is exactly what he wanted. What he didn’t account for was that you were going to play his game with him

So you fight back and mouth him off. Oh boy. He didn’t like that. Well, he did but only because it spurred him on even more knowing he was getting to you. What he didn’t like however, was how you were trying to take back power that was his

Can imagine that at some point he shouted “RESPECT MY AUTHORITAH” at you and you responded with, “Fuck your fucking authority 🙄✋” (you don’t know who you’re messing with do you.)

Eventually he finds out he’s right, you do like him back. And in true Cartman fashion he would devise a plan to get you alone and make you his (and force you into submission). And when he does…

He degrades you. He spanks you and smacks you around. Bites you. Chokes you out with his hands, and his cock. Absolutely ruins you by any means necessary. Most of all…he makes you cry. Whether it be by edging you or overstimulating you to the point of which you become so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can do is cry and babble about how it’s “too good”, he will ruin you and he just loves it (corruption. kink.)

Remember how I said he’d make you get off on his shoe? Well, in this case he would probably say something about you being so desperate for him that you’d get off on his shoe. And when you do, oh best believe he won’t let you live it down

Don’t think he won’t punish you for all the times you mouthed him off either. Through orgasm denial yes, but he would make you cum on one of his toys before he fucks you because “only good sluts get his dick” (Harley you inspired this one too I know you’re reading 🥰)

“Awww, you DO like me~” he would whisper as you moan out when he slowly slides his cock inside you

Pulls on your hair as he takes you from the back. Leans down and gives you hickies all over your neck. He wants people to ask you about them so you’ll get all embarrassed before telling them who gave them to you. He wants people to know it was him and you were his

As he fucks you he would remind you that you’re just a needy little slut who loves his cock. Not only does he bully you in school, but he’s a bully in bed too. He would mock you for even wanting him, someone who was oh so cruel to you, and he would remind you who had all the power. Who made you feel good. Who owned you. And it was him

Wooooo. Definitely feed y’all a whole meal here. I had even more written than this but I had to cut out lots because it was super long. Needless to say a one shot is definitely in order so stay tuned 🤭

#eric cartman #eric cartman headcanons #eric cartman x reader smut #cartman x reader #cartman x reader smut #south park #oops i did it again

[soft-for-them]

Green first aid kit - Billy Hargrove x plus size reader

Summary: Back at school you find Billy worse for wear.

Trigger warning: This part does mention Billy's abuse and him having an injury from a fight, the fight isn't described or shown though.

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated and help more people read my works.

Part one - Part two - Part three

Come Monday morning Billy Hargrove wasn’t at first period History sitting near you passing notes, neither was he hanging around before class waiting for you with a big grin, nor was he slipping in after the teacher had left so he can talk to you, he was nowhere to be found at all.

Deep down you wished for him to be hiding near your locker in between the small nook where a fire extinguisher and fire alarm sits, him dressed in his denim jacket, his hair fluffy and curled. He would come up with a reason why he wasn’t there, something along the lines of hating your history teacher with all his heart or sleeping in late and missing most of the lesson. But no, when you rushed over to your locker he wasn’t there, he wasn’t anywhere.

He wasn’t in for the whole day, you knew for sure for you overheard a cheerleader bitching about it like she was entitled to flirt with Billy, like he was expected to come to school every day to flirt with only her.

To think you wore a nice peach sun dress to school just so maybe he’d see you and call you princess again.

So the next day you’re uncharacteristically angsty, every second your eyes flicking to the clock above the chalk board then to the nearest door wondering if he’d walk in all smirks and no apologies. Normally you love second period English Literature but you're too fidgety to listen in to your teacher talk about Shakespeare and sonnets, the Tuesday morning classes dragging on too long.

You are leaned into the small desks more than normal, the wood of the table pressing into your stomach more, your mind stuck on Billy fucking Hargrove’s face and not on the bold writing on the board that states you have homework due in next week.

Truly you would be lying to yourself if you said last night you didn’t have a dream of Billy, that the dream felt so real that you worried somehow it was and that something terrible had happened whilst you were sleeping. It’s stupid and frankly untrue having such a vivid dream about waking up at the bottom of a swimming pool only to be saved by Billy, the sky a dark purple, the grass coloured like burnt ash and Billy looking like the living dead could never be true.

Well you hope it never does.

If you were one of those zodiac sign, gem stone collector, ‘what time where you born?’ women then maybe you could deduce a meaning from the dream but really you’re too tired and too on edge to think up one.

Maybe you’ll ask a stoner friend about the dream’s meaning, minus mentioning Billy, then maybe you can get some answers about it.

Lunch time comes along and you feel too sick to eat any cafeteria food, so with a brief ‘goodbye’ to your small group of friends paired with a weak excuse to ditch gossip time you hurry out the double doors of the cafeteria, down the many hallways and out the nearest exit only your purse in your pockets.

Technically it’s still summer but the impending autumn winds are slowly coming in, a warm gust of air jostling your baggy jeans, bits of white thread from the rips at your knees and on the inside of your thigh blowing upwards, the sleeves to your t-shirt whipping around your chubby upper arms. Really your outfit today is the bare minimum, you’re trying to look like you’re not having a bad day, a stark opposite to yesterday’s dressed up outfit. The thigh hole in your ancient jeans are from years chub rub and the holes in the knees from before you hit puberty, younger you having to buy bigger sized jeans from the adult section thus tripping over the bottoms of them every five minutes for you were a middle schooler who hadn’t had a growth spurt yet.

The joys of being plus size am I right…

For a moment you wonder if you can sneak out and find the nearest shop to get a snack, you’re used to walking long walks in short amount of time, most days you do that because you don’t own a car. You could really go for some overly sugary candy from a gas station or a pre-packaged baguette (which you’d only eat half of, the rest of it getting crammed into your locker for later on), anything other than the grey school lunch burgers with watery ketchup or stale vending machine crisps that coast too much.

Like always there’s a decision to be made; walk to the nearest shop most certainly being late for maths after lunch or just take a breather outside on an empty stomach, not being late for the next class.

Whilst some would call you a goody two shoes for always being in all your classes, the overwhelming feeling of dread, that feeling of hunger mixed with the sickness that comes with not wanting to walk back into the school building until you feel better takes over you. Everyone gets it one way or another, the people who are too worried about attendance tend to stay in the classrooms until they explode and break down while others frequently skive off school opting to smoking weed and kiss girls to chill out. You’re of sound mind and sound idea that calming down before heading back inside is the best course of action, maybe even touching some grass will get you mind off Billy Hargrove and maybe quell the gargling nervousness in your stomach.

But then again you need to eat, that and you fucking hate maths.

So it’s decided that you’re going to the shops, the walk and food will make you feel better in no time!

Scuffed shoes pick up gravel as you walk across to the car park, a hand digging into a pocket to make sure your purse is securely in place. You’re in no rush however you do dodge around the many parked cars in a certain way to make sure no teachers see you sneaking away, not that they’d really care all that much but there’s always that one teacher who likes to snitch on students.

You walk pass familiar cars of classmates, narrowly avoiding eye contact with a band kid you know inside his car trying to make moves on his girlfriend. You clamber up and onto the grass nearing an exit to the school, hands in your pockets and eyes looking out for moving cars.

The sun shines on the exit like a place maker in a video game, so you speed up your steps to get out as fast as you can not wanting to explain to any faculty why you’re sneaking out but then you see it.

Parked underneath some over grown trees, shielded by chunky pickup trucks and station wagons borrowed from parents is a car so familiar that it makes you stop mid step. The grey 79 Camaro sits dormant and shaded, from where you stand you can see the driver’s sun visor flipped down and the car is completely turned off, the engine not revving or spluttering.

Now the right thing to do is just to carry on your walk not going over there to see if it’s actually Billy’s 79 Camaro and not somehow another Camaro some jock copying Billy has bought to seem cool but you’ve been worrying about the ‘king’ of the school for the last two days so you shift your step and head over to the low down car.

*Tap* *Tap* Tap*

You lean over somewhat, the bumper of the car pressing into your legs as you tap the wind shield of the car, a very asleep Billy Hargrove in the front seat. His denim jacket covers his face from beams of sunlight that cut through the trees through the front window, his hands balanced on his toned stomached, fingers knitted together.

You shimmy around to the driver’s side squishing in between his Camaro and the truck next to it tapping on the side window.

“Billy.” you call quietly not wanting to blow your cover to anyone else sitting in their car. You look around before banging the window some more, your knuckles hurting just a bit as you knock on the thick glass.

“Billy!” whisper shouting isn’t doing it, “BILLY!”

Your voice turns stern but almost needy, the fear in your head that someone might catch you and drag you away ever present as you bend down slightly so you’re at eye level with the sleeping man. Your body presses against the other car, your face turning sour as you stop knocking.

Stepping out from the cars, still close but no longer trying to wake up Billy, you debate whether or not you should leave a note or something like him.

You frown at the idea, firstly because you only have a purse on you but also because what would you write to him if you did have a piece of paper and a pen?

“Hey, you missed history – (y/n).” no, he never promised that he would be there, you just assumed he would be.

“Sleepy head see you at the pool. – (y/n).” no, no, no. You don’t want to seem weird, you don’t want him to think that you’re planning on going back to the pool on the weekend just for him. Anyway you have work this weekend so it’s not like you could go either way.

Maybe you could just leave you home phone…. Fucking hell no, that’s the worst idea you’ve had yet.

Really when you saw Billy’s car you didn’t go other there to flirt, really you’re just worried. Whilst your interactions with the Cali man have been all positive as of late you’ve heard things, you’ve seen the things his so called ‘friends’ do, you’ve seen his dad around town and you keep clear of him.

The family members you live with have told you about Neil Hargrove and well you do not like the sound of him one bit.

You hover around still wondering what to do before spinning around and walking away from the car, your plan to get food foiled, the frown on your face now permanent for you know you’ve wasted enough time banging on the car window that you can’t go to the shop without missing maths.

“Fuck!” you mutter, your eyes going back to the Camaro.

Now sat up, jacket off his face, his eye wide and staring right back at you, Billy Hargrove looks out of place, no thoughts in his head, not like the normal smirking flirt you’ve come to know. You raise a hand to give him a little wave which snaps him out of his momentary mind blank. He lifts a hand up back which prompts you to walk back over.

“Roll the widow down.” you say with a little hand gesture once you get to the car.

He does so.

There staring up at you with the eyes of a scared child, his baby blues so watery and wide that they look like the sad sea, his left eyelid a deep purple bruise.

His left eye must have been swollen shut at one point for his eyelid is still a bit droopy.

“Billy…”

You don’t intend your voice to be so wobbly when you say his name, your own (e/c) eyes watering up but your voice wavers and your eyes fill with salty water.

“I’m fine princess.” he barely gets out, “Just lost a fight Sunday night, that’s all.”

Fuck. You don’t want him calling you princess when he’s so sad. You selfishly want him calling you princess when his eyes are filled with mischief or even lust, not when he’s about to burst into tears.

He must think you’re pitying him for he looks away his forehead hitting the top of the steering wheel.

“Billy-“ his eyes flicker to yours, his curly blonde hair half covering the side of his face, “- I was going to walk to the shops but-“

You try to think of how to say your next words without sounding like you’re demanding a free lift from the obviously dejected man in front of you.

“-Do you want to come with me? I, well, we can share some food.”

He nods his head ‘yes’.

You don’t have a lot of money, that is clear, but today you have enough loose coins and crunched up dollar notes to pay for the things you need.

You enter the small out the way shop, the bell above the door stuck and not ringing. The shop used to be a petrol station before the chain company that owned it went bankrupt, now it’s just a shop with the worst painted parking lines you’ve ever seen.

The man behind the till tilts his head up from his newspaper, his puffy eyes staring you down as you shuffle past a rack of crisps into an aisle filled with cupboard food. The metal shelves that tower above you are packed with every kind of dry food you’d ever need. Your eyes flicker from boxed yellow pastas to dusty lidded jars of red unnamed sauces. You move along, wallet tightly in your hands as you walk down the aisle to the very back of the shop where the wall to ceiling freezers and fridges sit. For a moment you look in the freezer a frozen mac n’ cheese catching your eyes.

Whilst the family you live with do cook the odd meal for you most of the time they’re out the house so you have to cook for yourself and well, the fridge-freezer at home is very much empty at the moment. There is probably some stuff in the cupboards but normally you don’t bother with that food for the last time you ate some cupboard food (some half stale frosted flakes) you were yelled at.

It would be nice to have a warm meal tonight, even if it’s a microwave meal, but you have to go back to school and having a frozen ready meal in your bag does not sound like a good idea.  You cringe at the thought of the flimsy plastic getting pierced by a rouge pencil and spilling throughout your bag.

Ew, no thank you!

Instead you walk over to the fridges filled with soft drinks.

Up close you can tell the fridges aren’t actually on, the little orange filament lights off and the drinks bone dry. It doesn’t bother you that much, you’re only planning on getting some drinks and not a whole meal of probably gone off food. Anyway, from working at shop yourself you’ve seen much worse things, you just glad that there isn’t any fuzzy mould on the bottle caps.

Quickly you open the sliding door and take out a boxed grape juice and a bottled flavoured water, the inked words ‘summer fruits’ smudged. You would love to have a milkshake right about now but you stay away from the milks on the bottom shelf, you face scrunching up in disgust.

You walk around the shop some more, not caring for any of the junk being sold. You do however find yourself at the sweets section. The little shelf is filled to the brim with colourful candy and plastic junk toys, everything from chocolate bars to lollypops shaped like diamond rings.

A small packet of hard boiled sweets catches your eyes, the red and white striped plastic bag reminiscent of the paper bags at fun fairs or cinema pick n’ mixes, the little clear window showing individually wrapped sweets in every colour known to man.

A yellowed price sticker sloppily placed over the logo says it’s only a dollar fifty so you pick the bag up to buy. You shove the bag between your fingers and the drinks, you other hand free with your wallet lodged between your arm and chest.

Slowly but surely, your eyes flickering all around to see if you’ve missed anything you might want as you arrive to the front counter.

The front counter is high up, a thick plastic pane with hand prints and unknown splashes of stuff shielding the man and the shelf filled with cigarettes from grabby hands and angry eyes of disgruntled customers. There’s a big enough a hole in the plastic that the man, a forty something year old with red irritated eyes and a bold spot a monk would be jealous of, can look at you with judging eyes whilst scanning your items.

“You better not want any alcohol Miss.” says the man. Despite his less than stellar looks he sounds more sad and fed up than judgemental or creepy, he probably get too many teenagers with fake ID’s coming in along with out of towners with visible guns on their hip.

“No alcohol just these-“ you say with an awkward smile, “-oh, but um is that for sale?”

Your eyes catch onto a flash of green hung sat snug in between a giant jug of vodka and a line of off brand cold remedies.

It’s a small first aid kit.

You point to it hoping that your finger isn’t pointing to the vodka.

“The first aid kit, yeah, it is.”

“How much?”

The man says the price making you visibly frown. The price isn’t much considering it’s a first aid kit but you’re not sure you have the right amount for it.

“I’ll take it.” you say as you place your items down and begin taking out handfuls of coins.

You know you are a dollar short as you recount your crumpled dollar bills. You look up to see that the man has already bagged your stuff including the first aid kit.

“I might have to put something back.” you sheepishly say.

“Nah, have it.” He passes you the bag, “If you’re needing a first aid kit then you’re needing it, you know? I don’t want anyone bleeding out because you were a dollar short and didn’t have it.”

“Thank you.” you’re really at a loss for words but you get you thanks out.

“I don’t own this place anyway, I only work here.” he says with the smirk of a man who often nicks a pack of smokes off the back shelf without the shop owner knowing.

You talk some more before walking out the shop, the pack of sweets already in hand, your fingers digging into the bag to find a sweet that isn’t strawberry flavoured. As soon as you pull out a bright green sweet you look up to see a pair of red rimmed steely blue eyes staring right at you.

Billy, eyes wide like a deer in the middle of a road watches intently as you walk over to his 79 Camaro (which is parked somewhat awkwardly in the wobbly lines of the parking space.) The car is parked close to the shop, right at the front of it in fact and ever since you were in the shop his gaze has been locked on the front door for the shop windows are covered in posters and adverts blocking any view of you inside he could have had.

For ten minutes Billy has been frozen still waiting for you to reappear so he can finally let out a long breath. He looks like he hasn’t blinked in the short time you were inside, his baby blues watery, the welling of tears threatening to spill once more.

“Want one?” you ask as you slide into the passenger seat, the bag of sweets shoved on the centre console closer to Billy.

Billy does not say anything, he just breathes like he just run a mile his chest heaving as large amounts of air enter his lungs.

“Billy?” you ponder, your voice small and quiet, “Billy.”

His eyes snap onto yours. For a moment you see something, a glimmer of fear maybe, in his eyes before his face droops.

“Hey, hey, hey-“ you begin, your body leaning over the centre console, hands grasping onto his arms as lightly as you can, “- you’re ok, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He looks like a wounded animal.

“Billy-“ you go to say something, something that probably wouldn’t help in the long run but something so he can hear you over his very present running mind.

Before you can though his right hand shoots up and grabs your forearm, his digits digging into your soft skin.

He doesn’t know if he wants your hands off him or if he’s forcing you not to move. Billy thinks for a long time his fingers flexing and relaxing but not letting go of your arm before said hand grabs at your own hand, his longer thicker fingers intertwining with yours in a death grip.

With you other hand, which you quickly take off his arm, you rifle through your plastic bag and pull out the two drinks along with the little first aid box.

“Here, take ‘um.” With your fingers aching from clutching three things at once Billy eventually takes the drinks and the first aid kit, his eye focusing on the first aid kit especially, “I have no clue what’s in the kit but I thought you could keep it in the car if you got in another fight…”

“…How do you know it was a fight?”

“Bruises that big don’t come from bumping into corners or falling down stairs.” you should know, you’ve bumped into many table corners and tripped down the stairs too many times to count and you’ve never gotten an injury that big and angry.

The car goes silent for a while the only sounds of you trying to quietly crunch the sweets and Billy unzipping the first aid kit to look inside it. There’s the normal inside; plasters that are an odd pale peach colour, gauze and safety pins, a couple individually wrapped antiseptic wipes, old yellowing instructions printed on thin paper and a small gel compress to help with swelling and aches.

“Thank you.” Billy whispers, his hands now clutching at the green first aid kit rather than your hand.

His eyes are trained down on the cross adoring the kit, the two drinks on his lap long forgotten.

“I-I know that home life ain’t that good-“ you start, not knowing exactly where you’re going with the conversation, “- but I’m here for you.“

“You don’t know what’s going on princess, you can’t help.” Billy says now looking at you.

“But I know about your dad, that’s how you got that isn’t it?” you vaguely point to his bruised eyes.

His eyes flicker away from yours giving you the answer you didn’t want but already knew.

“I don’t know much Billy-“ you duck down to catch his eyes, a small smile forming on your pretty face, “- but I do know that I wouldn’t piss on him if he was on fire because men like him wouldn’t even say thank after saving them, they’d just carry on like normal hurting and breaking everything in their way.”

Billy would have smirked at your words but his eyes have gone too wide in shock.

“Why don’t we skip maths hey?” you ask grabbing his hand in a warm but tight grip.

“Sure princess.” He finally replies with a small smile.

.

.

.

A/N: If you want a part four please send in an ask rather than commenting for another part, this is just because asks are an easier way for me to track requests. Comments are still welcomed and requests are open!

#not proof read #billy hargrove x plus size reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things x reader #stranger things x plus size reader #stranger things #plus size reader #x plus size reader

[sunshinereddie]

i love the idea of eddie moving into richie’s place after ch2 and eddie’s divorce and being all domestic together, you know cooking dinner together and falling asleep on the couch together and pretending they’re not in love with each other and all that, BUT i also love to imagine that period of time when they first move in together and they’re still getting used to each other’s quirks and habits and learning how to live together in the same space

imagine eddie’s reaction to richie’s bachelor apartment that he does not clean enough. richie has to remind himself that all of eddie’s bitching about not letting the dirty dishes stack up in the sink and putting dirty clothes in the hamper instead of on the floor comes from a good place. richie has to admit that his place IS nicer when it’s clean, but does eddie really have to wake up at 7am on a saturday to vacuum?

it takes richie a while to get used to the fact that he’s living with another person now, and to not shit his pants when he gets up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and sees eddie sitting on the couch in the living room bc he can’t sleep. (on a bit of a sadder note, it also takes eddie a while to get out of the habit of saying “morning, myra” when he sleepily walks into the kitchen in the morning and sees somebody there…. richie tries not to take offence)

eddie goes into absolute shock when he sees the contents of richie’s fridge- not a vegetable in sight!!!!- and then learns that richie orders takeout almost every night. eddie refuses to keep this up so he forces richie to the grocery store- except this is not a fun domestic trip to the grocery store, eddie has his list of nutritious food and ingredients and that’s all they’re getting, so no richie, you can’t buy another bag of chips, i don’t care that they’re on sale, you already have two unopened bags of cheetos at home.

richie realizes that now that he’s not living alone, he can’t really walk around……. indecently, as he used to. it takes a lot of mental reminders to put on pants before he leaves his bedroom in the morning, but he thinks its for the best after the time he accidentally walked naked back to his bedroom after his shower and ran into eddie in the hallway and eddie's face had turned more red than beverly's hair. (eddie also has to get used to the fact that richie usually just walks around with a towel around his waist after he showers, and eddie tries not to think about the reason why he gets all warm and his stomach feels tingly whenever richie does that. eddie is sure that he is feeling Normal Friend feelings.)

sometimes their difference of opinion on certain things do lead to arguments- but this is healthy for them. eddie is used to having arguments with his mother and myra- and in those arguments, he was never right, he learned to just listen and agree with whatever they said. but with richie, he listens to eddie's side, and even if he doesn't 100% agree, he'll try to understand eddie's side, and they'll work together to come to a solution. richie on the other hand, he's been living in his own world for so long, that it's refreshing for somebody to knock him down sometimes and remind him that he's not always right about everything. and while their first couple of arguments do hurt ('we're best friends, we shouldn't be arguing!'), over time they learn how to healthily argue and debate and most importantly- apologize and forgive.

but despite all these new changes to the way they live, neither richie nor eddie would have it any other way. eddie is just so relieved to finally be out of that marriage and he feels so lucky to be able to live with somebody like richie, who really cares for him and who eddie can feel safe around. and for richie, living with eddie is a reminder for him to take care of himself. living with eddie makes richie actually get out of bed in the morning (if not because eddie is a light in richie's life, then definitely because if richie's not up by 11:30 eddie will come into his room and turn on the lights and open up the curtains), to feed himself and drink water, to laugh and to sincerely enjoy life.

it takes some time for the two of them to get used to living together, but when they do, it's the best arrangement they could have asked for.

#them moving in together is one of my fav hcs so lets add a lil something something #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie hc #reddie headcanon #it #it au #it hc #it 2017 #it 2019

[wheredafandomat]

For Better or For Worse

Chapter 6 Next Chapter Series masterlist

Loki x female reader

18+ | this fic contains angst, swearing, adult themes

The tears had subsided, your head still pounding as you dried your eyes. Your body felt weak, you felt defeated. You wondered why you even came back, it wasn’t worth it, none of this was. It felt like you had just fucked everything up. You wished you had just stayed home, continued putting Loki to the back of your mind because despite how harsh he had treated you since you arrived, you still felt giddy when your eyes would meet. You still felt his voice reverberate around your body. You still had goosebumps whenever his skin touched yours. You felt safe in his arms when he helped you up in the garden, a safeness you hadn’t felt since you were married. He made you feel secure, worthy, loved. You had convinced yourself that you didn’t need these feelings, that they were futile but it was because you were alone. Being back only made you realise you missed them, craved them, you missed Loki, you craved love.

You decided it was time to go. Perhaps this trip could just have been for closure. You managed to see Loki again and his knew beau, despite how unhappy they looked together. You saw Thor again and Frigga which was good. Hopefully this was enough, enough to stop the nightmares, the dwelling, the regret, the pain. This had to be enough because once you left today, you were closing this chapter of your life, forcing yourself to forget Loki. You knew deep down you’d always love him but you couldn’t let that longing consume you any longer. He had moved on, why couldn’t you? This was the end now. You’d carry the pain of your love with you forever but this couldn’t go on so you packed your things.

Loki stood silent, staring at the spot you were just standing in once you left. He regretted his words, wished he had bit his tongue. He wished you hadn’t come back in the first place so he could at least pretend to forget. You being here was a constant reminder of the betrayal. The loss. When you first walked into the room at the will reading, he wanted you to hurt, how he hurt, but seeing the expression on your face, he knew his words were heinous, malicious and he knew that you did hurt. They were horrible and yet he still said them.

Finally leaving the attic, he made his way downstairs, entering the kitchen before raiding the liquor cabinet and settling for a whisky as he mulled over the events. As he thought, he realised that he had never truly seen it from your prospective, the fact that maybe you wished you hadn’t practically given up your child, he was too self absorbed. At the time, his heart was shattered but as time went on and he weighed up the variables, he realised that perhaps there were other reasons for your decision, maybe you couldn’t face your mistake so he stopped hating you or at least tried to and yet he still spoke to you so harshly, treated you so harshly. Sometimes he hated himself too. Despite his progress, something about actually being in your presence again irked him. When you were gone, it was easier to hate you but seeing you again, he couldn’t bring himself to and so he forced it. Emotions were confusing, he confused himself with them. He brought the glass to his lips again and realised that this anger towards you, this resentment was a deep seated love, a love for you that had never quite left him. A love that he tried to recreate with Rose but she just wasn’t you.

After you packed your things, you swung the door open to leave only to be met by an angry faced Rose. You couldn’t be bothered to give her the time of day and so you simply pushed past her and made your way down the hallway.

“Don’t just ignore me you bitch.” She hollered after you, following you down the hall.

“Just leave it Rose.” You huffed, not turning to look at her.

“I’m talking to you.” She spoke, placing her hand on your shoulder to stop your movements before you dropped your bag onto the floor and turned to her.

“What?”

As Loki poured another drink, his eyes glanced up at Thor who walked in. Thor took a seat before pouring himself a drink too. Despite Thors downfalls and how much Loki despised him, Loki still sought a confidante in his older brother, particularly when he was inebriated like he was now. He began to speak, Thor nodding along as Loki explained what happened in the attic.

“I don’t know why I said it, maybe I wanted a reaction or I wanted her to feel something—I don’t know, she just seemed so unbothered when she first arrived.” Loki explained, now knowing that he was wrong.

“You think she doesn’t hurt Loki?” Thor queried, brows knitting.

“I-I”

“She mourns Loki, more than you’d ever know.” Thor shook his head, Loki slightly confused at Thors choice of words. “She lost two people.” He mumbled.

“So did I” Loki exclaimed “and not by choice unlike her.”

“No Loki you left” Thor argued “you left her and she had to pick up all the pieces.”

Loki felt his heart hammering for a moment at the realisation of his speedy departure, he didn’t even give you a chance to speak to him, to explain, he was so angry. He felt himself slouching before he remembered his late fathers words and sat straighter. She found out so she had to get rid of it. She couldn’t face the consequences. With a newfound determination, a newfound bitterness, Loki spoke again.

“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you. I bet you helped her pick the pieces up good and thorough.” Loki spat.

“Loki?” Thor replied, almost questioning.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her, the way you’ve always looked at her, you think I didn’t know.” Loki continued, gritting his teeth as he thought about whether Thor even knew what he did.

“Loki stop.” Thor tried to calm him down.

“You care for her deeply, too deeply.”

“That’s enough!” Thor insisted, smacking his palm against the table.

“Is it love? Do you love her? You do don’t you? I knew it!”

“Have you gone quite mad?” Thor shouted, standing to his feet.

“You’ve ruined everything!” Rose shouted, pulling your hair as you struggled to break away from her, she was crazy. She practically launched at you when you turned around and now she was fighting you.

“Get off of me.” You screeched, managing to nestle your hand into her hair too as you yanked her off.

“I hate you.” She roared, charging at you again as you pushed her away. The both of you drew further down the hallway as you steadied yourself on the railing on the landing.

“Loki, you need to calm down.” Thor tried to manage the situation, Loki angry as he threw his glass against the cabinet, the sound of it shattering reverberating in the room.

“Just leave me alone!” Loki yelled before storming out of the room.

“You think you’re so prissy with your stupid pictures and that ridiculous—”

“Bitch.” You cut her off, slapping her across the cheek when you realised she was referring to the picture she found in Lokis pocket. That picture was precious.

“Do not call me a bitch!” She roared, pushing you against the low railing, leaning over you as the back of your legs pressed against it. “I don’t know what he ever saw in you.” She scoffed as you tried to push back against her only for her to push you again, rougher this time as your eyes widened as if you knew the outcome of this situation before it happened.

“Rose” you gasped, time speeding up as well as slowing at the same time as you were pushed over the edge, eyes closing as you began to fall.

“What a cun—Y/N!” Loki gasped, seeing the struggle as he sped towards you, knowing you were about to fall. He raced towards the bottom of the landing, falling against the floor as you crashed into his arms.

Anyone else a little confused? I’m a tiny confused 😂 not a tiny bit just a tiny confused. It’s also 3am and it’s been a busy day already 😂 what are you guys thinking? Despite my tiny confusion I know what’s going on. Anyways goodnight or good morning wherever you are. Have a great day! 💚

Next

Tags:

@michelleleewise @ladymischief11 @vickie5446 @12-pm-510 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @somewiseguy @xorpsbane @wolfsmom1 @huntress-artemiss @kikster606 @ozymdias @crimson25 @bunny24sstuff @dillie60 @mcufan72 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @lokiprompts @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @plokis @eyesbluelikethetitanic @blog-the-lilly @lovingchoices14 @johnmurphys-sass @lokibadguy @kingtwhiddleston @princess-ofthe-pages @elooo0ooo @lilibet261 @mischief2sarawr @simplyholl @marygoddessofmischief

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #oc fiction #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki angst #loki imagines #loki imagine #loki x female reader angst #thor x reader #loki x you angst #loki of asgard #loki #loki odison x reader #loki odinson

[iveseenstrangerthings]

secrets of the upside down - a Steve Harrington imagine

summary: a steve harrington x reader angsty/fluff imagine where the reader finds out steve, and the group, have been keeping a massive secret. And yes I did steal some dialogue from the scene with eddie and the guys when he finds out about the upside down. this discusses Billy’s death, but then I do jump to a random trip to the upside down and I know they don’t match up in terms of the actual sequence of events from the show but let’s just pretend !!

warnings: mentions of death and swearing

word count: 3.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you walk through your front door, the warmth of your home engulfs you. A deep sigh escapes your lips and you feel a tension lift from your shoulders, as if you’d been carrying it around with you all day. You drop your bag on the floor with a dull thud and close your eyes, taking in a deep, satisfying breath which you hold for a moment, then exhale. After a shitty day, you only want to talk to one person, so you walk to your phone which sits on your dark wood, slightly scratched, hallway table and punch in the number you know by heart. After a few rings, the receiver clicks into place.

“Hey, it’s Steve.” His voice radiates into your ear and a smile instantly forms on your face.

“Hey, it’s me.” You start, twirling the telephone cord around your index finger. “How’re you?” A general start to the conversation.

“Hey, pretty girl. Yeah, I’m good, how’re you? You had a good day?” He sounds tired, not his chirpy usual self.

You twist your mouth up in disagreement and trail your finger along the countertop in your hallway, picking up a fine line of dust. “Hm,” you start, rubbing your fingers together to release the dust, “not particularly. Had a performance review with Jan and it was just- she was brutal.”

A sigh travels through the receiver, “Oh man. Hey, you should know not to listen to her. She’s a spiteful bitch.” This makes you audibly laugh, “No, I’m serious! Whatever she said, just fuck it. You’re amazing.” His words of reassurance warm you, but you can’t help but notice the vacancy evident in his voice.

“Steve, you sure you’re okay?” The line goes silent, too silent and you’re afraid you’ve disconnected. “Steve?”

“Sorry. I’m here.” He clears his throat, “Hey um, I have to tell you something.”

Uh oh, you knew there was something. Almost instantaneously, your stomach tightens as if someone’s reached in and twisted at your organs with their bare hands. “Sure, I’m listening.”

Another quick silence, but this time you let it pass uninterrupted. “Last night uh, Billy – Billy Hargrove – passed away.”

Your eyes widen in shock and your hand covers your mouth, not enough to mask the sound of the quick inhale you do, “Oh my God Steve... how?!” You knew of Billy, you knew he was Max’s older step-brother, but to your knowledge he was a bit of an asshole. Still, that didn’t take away from the shock of his passing.

Steve knew you’d ask so he had a story ready, “He got into a bit of an altercation at the mall and someone pulled a gun on him. They don’t know who it was but, he was tied up with some messed up people.”  

“Jesus…” The new mall?! “God, is Max okay?” Your eyes well with tears for the girl. You knew her relationship with Billy was turbulent, but he was still her family.

Steve swallows loud enough that you could hear over the phone, you knew he was upset. “I haven’t spoken to her today but, I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

“Shall I go see her tomorrow? D’you think she’s up for visitors?” You think over what you would say and how you could comfort her, there really are no words to use in a time like this.

“I think she’d really like that.” He clears his throat again, “Listen, I need to go but, I’ll call by later?”

You nod quickly, then realising he can’t see you, you reply, “I’d love that.”

He doesn’t reply, and instead just clicks the receiver down. Something deep in your gut feels terribly wrong, something you’ve never felt before and you just can’t place the feeling of sheer discomfort.

A few months later, steady flickers of light carefully illuminate the lounge of Mike’s house. The ambiance is cosy, comfortable, and calm and you relish in moments like this. You’re pleasantly surprised at how calm it is since everyone is currently at Mike’s for a real chilled out evening, even Dustin seems really subdued.

The mood within the group is different, usually Dustin is constantly cracking jokes or is on Steve’s case about something, but tonight there’s been none of that.

Yesterday, unbeknown to you, a few members of the group, including Steve, found a new gate to the upside down. Reluctantly, they decided to see what it was like, so they spent a few hours checking it out, making sure there was no imminent threat to them or the rest of Hawkins. You’d asked Steve if he wanted to go see a film last night, but he’d made up an excuse that he was covering a shift for Robin whilst she went on a date.

Now, back at Mike’s house, you look at Robin with a smile and lift your brows up in a playful manner.  Thanking yourself that you’ve thought of something to fill the silence. “Well, Robin. How was last night?”

She parts her lips slightly, looking momentarily confused. “Last night…?” She trails off, looking at you, to Steve, then back to you. You find that quite odd and you turn to Steve and furrow your brows.

As you turn your head back to face Robin you point to Steve with your thumb, “Steve said you had a date last night.”

“No, I’m pretty sure Robin was with us last night?” Dustin pipes up, an innocent mistake. He hadn’t been paying much attention to any conversation before now, so it’s typical that he decides to join in during this one.  

You laugh slightly, a feeling of uneasiness settling on your shoulders like a weighted blanket. “You were all there?”

“No.” Robin quickly interjects, “Steve and Dustin went to get pizza after they dropped me off.”

Now you feel disconcerted. Steve was lying to you; you knew that for a fact. You look at him out of the corner of your eye and you can feel everyone else’s on you.

“But Steve said he was at work last night, covering for you.” You look around at everyone else, searching for some help, but all you get back are soft eyes and awkward looks. You swallow the lump that has formed at the base of your throat as you start to peel yourself away from Steve, who has stayed quiet during this whole conversation. What was a feeling of unsettlement has turned into a deep pit of fury in the base of your stomach. “I’ll let you guys get your stories straight.” You pat Steve’s knee as you get up and pad through to the kitchen, pulling the sleeves of your jumper down over the palms of your hand for added warmth.

When you’re out of ear shot, Steve leans forwards and speaks to Dustin. “You idiot, she doesn’t know jack shit yet! I haven’t had the conversation with her.” His voice stays quiet, but his annoyance is evident.

Dustin turns around slowly, a dumbfounded look painting over his face, “It would help if you kept us in the loop with your little white lies, so then at least we know what you’re fucking talking about.” He waves his hands around between the room, motioning to him and Robin. His voice never moving above a loud whisper.

A few of the group grimace at Steve, they know he kept the upside down and everything that came with it a secret from you, but they all figured he’d have told you by now.

“Dude,” Robin starts, “You need to tell her. It’s only gonna make it worse. Plus, she’s gonna feel like a total idiot when she finds out she’s the only one that doesn’t know.” Steve runs a hand over his forehead, he’s wanted to tell you, he really has. But the last thing he wants is for you to end up like Billy, or him for that matter. He’s plagued with nightmares and anxious thoughts that are eating away at him and turning him into a ghostly version of himself.

“She’s like family to us, Steve. She’s one of us.” El replies, holding his gaze. “She deserves to know.”

“No, I know, I know.” He waves his hands up dismissively and closes his eyes, biting the tips of his fingers. “I just need to do it when the time’s right.”

“Which will be when, exactly? When is the right time to ever tell someone this?” Max snaps back. She’s insisted, along with a few others, that Steve should’ve told you months ago and has grown in annoyance with him when he refused to tell you. “This should’ve been done months ago.”

The group can tell that Steve has really exhausted himself with this, he is ridden with guilt and has tortured himself with the idea that he’s pretty much lived a complete lie since he started dating you.

“Would it help if some of us explained it with you?” Robin chips in.

Steve looks up with grateful eyes, it would sure take the pressure off.

“I’d be happy to assist.” Dustin says, patting Steve on the leg, reassuringly.

“I would too. I know Billy’s death is something that (y/n) knows about but, just not the whole truth.” Max looks passed Steve, almost towards the kitchen door, looking out for you coming back through.

“Yeah.” Steve nods, “Yeah okay, let’s go.”

You stand with your back against the counter, facing the doorway. Your fingernail in perched between your teeth and you’re willing yourself not to bite them. It was a habit of yours that took years to break, and you haven’t bitten them for months. Snap. Your teeth glide through the soft tip of your nail and you look down in disappointment. Now your nail sits, snapped in half, with a clean break down the middle. You can hear the hushed whispers next door still, different voices pitching in at different parts of the conversation. The pit of irate anger has been bubbling away in your stomach and your skin feels as if it’s crawling with rage. You let a small huff out and rip off the nail you’ve just bitten. You rip it off with such force that it pulls away at the soft tissue, where your nail meets the pad of your finger underneath. Immediately, a small trickle of blood comes away from the little nick you’ve created on your finger, and you watch as the beads come to the surface.

The sound of other footsteps towards the kitchen brings you back and you pull your hand back into the sleeve of your jumper and cross your arms. Steve, Max, El, Dustin and Robin all come through, with Robin closing the kitchen door softly behind her. You stay with your face straight, staring at each of them individually before returning to Steve.

“Wanna tell me what the fuck’s going on?” It came out far more aggressive than you intended, but you just roll with it.

“(y/n), I’m sorry.” Steve starts, his eyes look tired, and you feel a sense of hurt for Steve, mixed amongst the fiery emotions that are coursing through your veins. “We-” He stops and puts his hand on his heart, “I haven’t been honest with you.”

Has he been seeing someone else, and the guys have been covering for him? No. Surely not. You look to El, whose eyes are glazed over with tears. What the fuck is going on?

“Guys, please. Please tell me what’s going on.” Your voice sounds weak, almost pathetic. Begging and pleading with them to share with you what it is they’ve kept secret. Your face flushes with an intense heat and your eyes well with sadness, “Steve?” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s sit.” He says, gesturing towards the small table in the kitchen and you all take a seat around it, nobody saying a word. “(y/n), I need you to know that I kept things from you for your own safety. I had your best interests in mind, but it’s gone too far and I’m sorry. I should’ve told you earlier.”

Again, your eyes scan everyone else’s, Dustin is the only one not engaging with eye contact and you reach over and pat his arm, offering him a small smile when his eyes eventually meet yours.

“He’s right,” El starts, “We just wanted to protect you.”

“Guys, please. Protect me from what?! You’re scaring me.”

“Hawkins hasn’t exactly been normal recently, right?” El says and your expression has morphed into one of confusion. El continues, knowing the longer she draws it out the more chance she has of losing your interest.

“Right.” You reply, not seeing how this has any relevance.

“Well, we’ve had a lot to do with that.” Dustin drops in, keeping his voice soft.

“I don’t understand.” Your eyes continue to dart from one person to the other.

El places her hand on yours, “There’s another world, (y/n). Another one just like this, just like Hawkins, and our world connects to that in ways none of us ever would’ve imagined.” Her finger is tracing over your knuckles as she speaks to you, you’re grateful for El whilst Steve sits quietly, looking helplessly at you both. “I have the power to open ways to travel from our world to the world we call the upside down. But sometimes, what’s in the upside down makes its way into our world, into Hawkins.”

“You mean like, like ghosts?” You reply, a headache becoming an intense throb that you can feel it settling behind your eyes.

Max shakes her head, “Some things are worse than ghosts.”

The group spend the next half an hour talking you through the upside down, how they came to discover it, what happens there and some of the near misses they’ve had. You take in every single drop of information they give you, not taking your eyes away from whoever is directing the information towards you. Part way through, when it was obvious you were becoming distressed, Steve took your hand in his and hasn’t let go since. They told you about Billy, about how his death was not a mall fight gone wrong, but how he was murdered by something they called the ‘Mind Flayer’. By this point in the conversation, the thumping pain in your head has intensified and you nip the skin in between your brows tightly, willing it to cease.

“Oh my God.. Max I’m so sorry.” You hold your head in your hands with your fingers swirling through your hair and scratching patterns onto your scalp. “This is so fucked up.”

“I know.” Steve whispers, placing a hand onto the back of your neck, gripping it softly. He knows when you’re in an anxious state of mind you like pressure, a pressure on the back of your neck or shoulder helps calm you. “I know, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

You stay with your head in your hands and thankfully your face is hidden because your face screws up and your shoulders shake. Small, quiet sobs escape and your tears stream down, dropping onto the surface of the table.

Dustin mouths “We’ll go.” to Steve and moves his head in the direction of the door to signal to the others that they needed to leave you two alone.

Once they’ve left, Steve moves his chair closer to you and places his hands on top of yours where they’re still wrapped up in your hair. “Hey.” He whispers as he comes in closer to you, applying a firm amount of pressure onto your hands, enough to show you he was there but not enough so that it was painful. Lightly, he places a kiss on the crown of your head. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” All he can do is sit here and be there for you. It was so much information, information that meant your relationship with everyone in this house would never be the same.

After a few minutes, you move your hands and wipe your eyes, sitting up and sorting your hair back behind your ears.

“So, last night?” You question, and Steve knows exactly what you mean. “We had to go to the upside down.”

You shake your head, tears continuing to fall though your sobs have subsided, “Steve, what I’m pissed off at is, these trips to the upside down, they’re dangerous.”

“I know.” He says, matter of fact.

“No, no. Listen, if anything happened to you, God forbid something like what happened to Billy?! How was I supposed to find out?! Were you gonna let the guys tell me how a supernatural being ripped you to shreds and your body was gone forever in another dimension?!” You had no energy to shout, you had no energy to raise your voice, so it stayed quiet, but firm.

Steve looks directly at you, his own eyes reflecting the same sadness held in your own. “I know. It was a real shitty thing for me to do.” He runs his fingers over his mouth and then brings them down to his lap, playing with the tips of his fingers. “The guys, they all told me to tell you. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wanted to protect you; I didn’t want you getting caught up in it all.”

You appreciate him trying to protect you, but all you can think of is if he went on one of his trips and never returned. “I get that Steve. I do.” You take his hand in yours, bringing it in close to your chest. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

He gives your hand a hearty squeeze and leans in to rest his forehead on yours, bringing his hand up to support your neck. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” His fingers trace back and forward at the nape of your neck and you close your eyes, letting the rhythm of his fingers soothe you.

After a few still moments pass, you open your eyes and lean back to look at each other. The sadness pooling his eyes seems to have dissipated and that makes you feel slightly better.

“I want in next time.” You blurt, looking him dead in the eyes.

You see his facial expression morph and change, one of confusion, then defeat and then just simply still. He knows you will insist, no matter how often he argues it with you.

“Steve.” You say, squeezing his hands in yours. He nods gently, giving in, “Okay. Okay.” He sniffs. Part of him feels devastated. His protective side feels like it’s been crushed having you brought into all this. He feels such a strong need to protect you, to keep you safe from everything he’s faced. “Everything I do we do together now, okay? We do it as a team. That’s how we work, as a team.” He’s almost laying down the rules.

You nod as your eyebrows knit together. Steve must’ve been through some shit, more shit than he’s prepared to tell you at this moment in time. “Deal.”

His eyes are dark, like pools of ink swirling in a soft current, not focussed on anything. “I fucked up.” His fingers circle his lips as he puckers them slightly, trying to hide the fact his top lip is starting to tremble. You’ve seen it, you’ve registered it, but you’re just letting it happen. “I really fucked up.” He says quickly and quietly before taking in a deep breath.

“No.” You reply, holding his hand tightly. “No, you didn’t. I can understand why you wouldn’t want to tell me, and I appreciate it.”

His eyes close softly as a tear drips down his cheek and rolls straight off. Gently, your thumb wipes away the residue and you leave your hand resting softly against his face. “Telling you all of this makes me realise actually how close I’ve been to losing you. How close you’ve been to losing me.”

You will your brain not to play a spectre of images of Steve dying in unimaginable ways in their upside down, but still a few roll over. Tightly, you close your eyes and hope they dissolve like a picture set on fire, curling away at the edges.

“Shall we go back through?” Your voice comes out hoarse, the tiredness lacing your voice box like thick treacle. Steve simply nods and you both get up and wander back through to the living room, one after the other. When you enter, everyone’s eyes avert to the two of you and the quiet murmur of their conversation quickly comes to a halt.

“(y/n)”, Dustin starts, “We all just wanna say how fucking sorry we are.” His eyes are glazed with tears and hold the evidence that he’s just finished crying.

Steve walks you both over to the couches and holds Dustin by the shoulder before bringing him into a hug, Dustin’s shoulders shake as soon as Steve envelops him. “You don’t need to apologise, buddy.”

Suddenly, it is apparent to you just how paramount their hurt is. As a collective, they have all changed. Now, the small things start to make sense. The cancelled plans with phoney excuses when things went to shit, the disappearances of people you went to school with, the sudden relationship with Hopper, everything now seems to fit into place. You quietly make your way to Dustin and take him from Steve’s arms. You’ve always been close to him, and now you feel even more so.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You whisper into his curled hair as his tears start to subside. Even though you know yourself you can’t guarantee it will be okay, you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

On the drive home, back to Steve’s, he’s awfully quiet, emotionally drained. You follow the stars, glowing bright in the bleak, black night sky and replay every bit of conversation you can. You know it’s going to be hard to fall asleep tonight and you realise it will be for Steve too, you assume you’ll be up for hours talking and falling into silences that won’t be awkward.

Steve looks over to you briefly before returning his gaze to the road. He knows he’s just let you into a dangerous part of his life, one he wishes he was not part of. But, knowing he has you by his side, he feels like he can take on anything the upside down throws at him. Now he’s not just trying to save himself, he’ll be saving you, too.

#masterlist #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve Harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things preferences #stranger things imagines #stranger things blurbs #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington fic

[p1-f1]

Protective

Pairings: Damien Thorn x Mean Girl!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her, AFAB

Warnings: swearing, and content people may not like. (I don't like this as much)

Notes:I'm so so sorry but I can't stop imagining edgy boy strolling around with his hot pink blonde bimbo gf. This is basically for me.

Word count: 765 (short one lmao)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The thing about love is that two people, whether opposites or not, could fall for each other. That's the case for this couple.

Y/N L/N. A popular girl who people thought would date a popular guy. They were wrong. She's polite when she wants, rich as hell, pretty stereotypical.

Damien Thorn. Prince of hell, not as popular in the high school sense. People thought with the way he acted he'd never waste his time on a girl like Y/N.

That wasn't the case. In fact, they were quite happy. Y/N in her little pink outfits strolling with Damien's arm around her waist in his all black outfits.

Sometimes you'd even catch him with pink hair clips in, not that you'd bring it up. Lord knows you make Damien annoyed, one of them will deal with it. Even though he's protective of her, the feeling isn't one sided.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ.:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆*⋆.*:･ﾟ

"Nice clips, Mimi. "

"Shut the fuck up.. "

The black haired boy said, rolling his eyes with a scoff.

"Seriously, you take a trip to Claire's? "

"CLAIRE'S?"

His girlfriend screeched, walking up to the random boy.

"I do NOT shop at Claire's! Repeat that and I swear to God I'll make you into my next purse! Now shoo, you dog!"

Damien would never admit it, but be thought you were hot as hell in these moments. The way you didn't really stand up for him as much as you, how you werent afraid to stand your ground, he fucked with that 100%.

"Didn't have to do that, sweets."

"That wasn't for you. That was an insult to me. Nobody. And I mean nobody. Will say something of mine looks like it's from Claires."

There were these moments, short, sweet, and not as violent. And then there were others. Someone says something they regret, Damien gets pissed off, the person gets beaten into the ground.

Y/N hated this. Sure she was a bitch sometimes and threatened people but it was all harmless. People knew her next heels wouldn't be made of the skin and ashes of someone's grandparents.

But when Damien threatened someone, it was a warning or he meant it. She may not be able to burn and torture someone but he sure can.

So a situation like this is childs play.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ.:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆*⋆.*:･ﾟ

"Damien! Stop!"

The teen girl yelped, pulling her tall boyfriend back from the boy on the ground. His red eyes almost glowing, as he glared at them. She desperately pulled him back, and down the hallway, which luckily ended in success.

"What the hell?!"

She said to the edgy teen, watching as he looks down. The look she could give was one that even the prince of hell couldn't handle.

"Well?!"

"He was saying shit, doll.."

"Okay?! That doesn't mean you beat the guy to a pulp!"

He rolled his eyes. He'd regret that. The girl raised her eyebrows, looking up at the boy.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?!"

"Yeah."

She scoffed, letting her hands that were once pointing at him fall to her side in disappointment.

"Whatever. I'm not bailing you out of PC's office. office."

It was her turn to roll her eyes, walking away from the tall boy as he was left standing there.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ.:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆*⋆.*:･ﾟ

Later that night, Y/N was in her room, picking out an outfit for the following day when arms wrapped around her waist.

"M'sorry sweetheart.. "

The teen mumbles into her neck, as his hands rub her hips. She puts her hands on him, not phased that he had teleported into her room. It was a normal thing between the two.

"It's okay Mimi…You were standing up for yourself."

He hadn't responded, and she decided to add to the sentence.

"You want me to lay down?"

"Yeah."

He responded, lifting her up and laying her back on the soft light pink sheets. They're cotton. He could never forget because she never let him.

Their legs entangled as Damien rested his head on her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Y/Ns fingers ran through Damien's black hair, stroking his head and rubbing his back with a kiss to the head.

No matter how many disagreements they got into, it always ended fast. Even if they were both protective, and sometimes overly, they loved each other. And me and you both know this seems like a forever relationship.

#damien thorn x reader #pifi writes

[calxide]

⋆⁺ [ 000 ] scaramouche? such an ugly name

word count: 0.4K

warning(s): none

“What the fuck.” Those three words came out of Y/N's mouth as a statement more than a question.

She quickly stood up from bed and ran her hands into her hair furiously. Grunting in annoyance, she realized that her temporary roommate wasn't with her anymore. She curses under her breath, clearly enraged by the fact that her friend didn't even bother waking her up.

After taking a quick shower, Y/N took bread from the table. She ran to the door and closed it quickly.

Such a cliche way to start my day! She thought as she continued running through the silent hallways of Teyvat High.

Y/N sighed as she swallowed her food. When will I experience a Wattpad mome–

Her thoughts quickly trailed off soon after she felt as if she was about to fall. What–

She was aghast and she felt the bread that was in her mouth fall as she also fell on the cold concrete floor, face first. Oh was it embarrassing, luckily, only a few were present in the scene.

A vein popped on her head as she curses under her breath, “Fucking hell.”

A stifled laugh was heard across the corridor, it was clear to her who the culprit was. "You little…"

Before she could finish her sentence, a helping hand was brought near to her face so she could stand up properly. She gladly took it and stood up, dusting off the dust in her uniform.

"Young miss, are you okay? The name's Childe, by the way," the ginger, who was named Childe, said with a closed-eye smile.

Completely ignoring the ginger head, she gave the purple-haired student a sarcastic smile and spoke words interlaced with venom, "Fuck you." She cracked her knuckles and groaned in irritation.

The short fellow in front of her raised an eyebrow, acting as if he didn't cause this whole commotion. "Scum," Y/N whispered.

"Why did you do that?"

Scaramouche scoffed at her sarcastically, "Why not? I thought it'd be funny. Besides, you looked stupid. You should have seen the look on your face," he stated, trying his best not to laugh. He didn’t even dare to deny it, great.

"Wow, what a bitch. Would you like a slap? A punch? Or both?"

Childe knew he has to intercept before the two starts a fight. "Woah, woah, calm down you two."

The two shorter figures glared at him, "Fuck off," they said in unison.

As much as Childe loves fighting, he'd rather not get caught in the commotion the two have. "Scaramouche, leave the girl alone," Childe whined.

The said fellow rolled his eyes at him, "God, you're such an annoyance."

Scaramouche? An ugly name for an ugly guy, I guess… I will fucking kill him.

Y/N watched the two walk away from her, gritting her teeth in utter disbelief that they could just leave like that.

ABYSSAL LOVE ✰ masterlist ♡ next

⋆⁺ synopsis — Scaramouche, the person who tripped you on purpose just to see your despair expression on your face, hates how you always appear so happy in front of other people. He hated the fact that you find life enjoyable, unlike him. You, of course, hated him back. You don't understand why he goes to the extent to see your face crinkle in pure dismay. But what if you realize that the person who always laughs at your misery isn't so insufferable after you get to know him?

#genshin imagines #genshin smau #genshin x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #genshin x reader #abyssal love smau #◇ーsmau: abyssal love #◇ーcalx's collection

[boliv-jenta]

A little fluff and smut with Modern Oberyn and sick reader.

Things with Oberyn were pretty good. Most of the time he spent absolutely destroying you. Whether it be by railing you into oblivion or teasing an orgasm out of you until you couldn't think straight.

Sometimes you were able to keep him out from between your legs long enough to actually go out. There was a dinner at a very fancy restaurant, the fact that he knew the owner was the only reason you got in. Since she was a very well coiffed, European woman, you didn't dwell too long on how they knew each other. Especially, after he pulled you into the bathroom to fuck you against the opulent marble walls. His fingers, stuffed in your mouth to muffled your screams, tasted like the strawberries he insisted on feeding you by hand. He watched intently as the fruit burst between your teeth, instantly there to lick up any drops that spilled from your lips. He was the same when he'd fill your mouth with his come. You gotta love a man with an oral fixation. Even your brain that would normally have freaked the hell out at the thought of getting caught, did not care one bit. Mmm oxytocin.

There was a museum trip. He walked you around sharing his own information on some of the artifacts. He recited the facts with such confidence, with that voice, you didn't even care if he was making them up. On that day he restrained himself from taking you in public. Instead he teased you through the thin fabric of your dress. By the time you got back to his apartment, your nipples were sore from rubbing against your dress with being so hard with arousal. Oberyn soothed them with his tongue as soon as his front door was shut. His cock was barely free from his jeans before you began to ride him. Hard and fast, chasing the release you so badly needed. Mmm yeah that's the stuff.

Things were going really well. Until you got sick. Ugh, we're all feverish and achy. Not to mention feeling gross. Body needs to get it's shit together. Like he's going to wait around for us to get better. He could have his pick of people.

You groaned at your stuff nose and bitch of a brain. Sending a text to Oberyn you explained that you'd have to cancel your lunch date. He still hadn't seen the message an hour when you decided to take a mid morning nap. Hey, did we dream that? Wait, I hear it again.

Someone was knocking at your door. Grumpily you shuffled to the peep hole. Oberyn stood on the other side carrying a grocery bag. No, we can't see him like this. We haven't showered, we're all icky. He knocked again, reluctantly you cracked the door open a touch.

"What are you doing here?" Your voice came out croaky.

"Am here to look after you." He smiled, his eyes were warm.

Look. After. Us??

"You don't have to." You began.

"I know." He left no room for argument as he gently pushed his way passed you.

Setting the groceries down on the counter he fished a few things out before heading to the bathroom. It had been a while since someone took care of you so you awkwardly hovered in the hallway until he was done.

"The bath is running. I'll make a start on lunch. Chicken soup. My grandmother's recipe." He threw over his shoulder as he set to work preheating and preparing his work space. "As much as I would love to scrub your back, and other places, I feel like you should enjoy your bath alone. I wouldn't be able to control myself and I wouldn't want to tire you out." He placed a kiss to your temple.

He's good. Even when he's rejecting us, he makes it sound sexy.

Slipping into the warm water was bliss. It soothed your muscles. Whatever the fragrance was in the air, it managed to unblock your nose. By the time dinner was ready you were feeling much more human. The flu had dulled your taste buds but even in their weakened state they savoured the first mouthful of soup. Can we lock him in here? Don't let him leave. He's a human happy chemical factory.

It was hard to argue with your brain. After your relaxing bath and nourishing soup, you felt a lot better. Tired again but better. A yawn left you and Oberyn instantly stood. "Come. Let's tuck you into bed."

Once you were under the covers, he tucked them in around you. "Is there anything you need before I leave?"

"You're leaving?" Of course, sex isn't on the table.

"I thought you'd want to sleep. I can stay if you want me to."

"Yes." You completely failed at trying not to seem desperate.

He laughed lightly before climbing on the bed next to you. Picking up the remote from your bedside table, he put on Netflix.

"Shall we watch a movie?" He asked.

As the familiar 'dun-dun' sounded, your 'Continue Watching' section popped up. A blush crept onto your cheeks as the latest 365 movie sat half watched on the screen.

"You didn't finish this. Did you not want to or did you not need to to?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

The jigs up. "I was done...watching it. And I was tired. So I went to sleep."

"After you were done...watching it." He palmed himself through his sweat pants.

"Look. I don't think I have the energy to do anything right now. Even though watching you do that is giving me all sorts of thoughts."

"Watching me do what? This?" He palmed his large bulge again before tugging on it lightly.

The fever that was a bit more under control since your last dose of medicine, began to rise again. "Do it again? Please?"

"Do what again? Use your words." He gave you a challenging look.

"Pull on your cock again."

"Like this?" His hand traced his length in the fabric, highlighting it's size. "Or do you want me to pull it out?"

You nodded before correcting yourself. "Pull it out. Please. I want to see you."

His hand dipped below his waistband to free his cock. It really was so pretty. You longed to suck it. Between no energy and your cough, it was not a good idea.

"Is this what you want? To see how hard you make my cock? Look at you. All cute in your sleepwear. Those little shorts and knee highs. You look so innocent. Like your waiting for a man to show you want you like. To teach you how to find your pleasure. " His hand have been slowly, steadily pumping his cock. The veins in his forearms popped with the effort of his grip.

"More." Was all you could manage.

"More? Hmm? My greedy little girl. Even when you're sick you still want more." His hissed as he picked up speed, flicking his wrist with each pass of his hand over his fat, dripping head.

"Always want more of you." You confessed. Damn, no more flu medicine for you. That shit is like truth serum.

"Me too. I came here to take care of you. To make you feel better. Look at me. The thought of you naked and wet on the other room. How good you look. Got me all worked up."

"This is definitely making me feel better. Knowing the affect I have on you. That such a gorgeous man wants me so badly."

"Fuck. I do. When you're better, we can do whatever you want to do." He sounded desperate as his fucked his hand.

"Right now, I want to watch you come. Come for me Oberyn." A sharp bite to the thick column of his neck was all it took to set him off. He arched of the bed, spilling his load across his stomach, over his t-shirt.

When he came back down to earth, he stripped his t-shirt off before offering you his chest as a pillow.

"Now let's see what else we can watch." Another movie was left half watched as you both drifted off together.

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #modern oberyn martell #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x f!reader

[thorniest-rose]

yes that was the same anon! it me! (crybaby steve and cum drippng down the thighs)

and i love the idea of eddie being the bully. especially if steve is still apart of the “popular” crowd and eddie is kind of a mysterious bad boy kind with a intimate circle of lackeys of, and he is inexplicably drawn to steve. steve is just such a pretty, fragile little thing, and his tears (which come so so easy) are precious. he can’t even pretend to be tough around eddie, one sharp pull on his hair, a toothy grin, (maybe a hand circling his waist so he falls right into eddie’s lap) and he’s tearing up with little hiccupy sobs.

also eddie calling steve “stevie”??? a traditionally feminine name that eddie uses religiously to make steve blush and stutter and squirm?? and maybe he uses it so much that steve’s friends start unconsciously referring to steve as “stevie” and wow steve can’t even begin to explain how that makes him feel

oh my goddd YES YES YES. I can see this so vividly too: Steve walking through the cafeteria, doing everything he can to ignore Eddie and pretend he doesn't even see him, when Eddie's hand shoots out and he tugs Steve towards him, who trips and falls into his lap. And Eddie's so pleased with himself of course, like the cat who got the canary, and he's grinning against Steve's ear and stroking his hand down his tight stomach and he's like, "Stevie, baby, this is where you belong." Maybe even licking the back of his ear? And of course Steve is off his lap in an instant. Like Eddie holds him close, but then lets him go, and Steve almost falls into another table, as everyone watches and snickers. And Eddie just blows him a little kiss as Steve huffs and goes red. Trying not to cry from embarrassment.

I'd love to see a scenario too where Steve needs to buy drugs from Eddie (maybe more than just weed, he needs something to help him with anxiety after his first experiences with the Upside Down monsters), so he goes to the spot behind school where he can always be found, and Eddie's there with his lackeys smoking and once he sees Steve he tells the others to scram so he can be alone with the princess, and they all do as they're told. Like I love the idea of Eddie still being a DND metalhead nerd, but he has this big crowd that just love him and do everything he says. This Eddie would definitely hike up his prices just for Steve and Steve would be outraged like, "It can't cost that much!" and Eddie's all like, "Oh don't worry, pretty boy, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement." Reaching out to draw a finger across Steve's zipper or play with his belt. And it hits Steve what Eddie's insinuating and he says no way. And Eddie grins and says, "Okay, well the offer stands. Let me know when you change your mind."

Ugh and yes @ all of Steve's friends starting to call him Stevie because of Eddie. Like not even realising they're doing it, but using the nickname anyway. Maybe subconsciously there's a shift in the group dynamic too, like Steve isn't the leader and doesn't garner the same respect he once did, and as a joke one day Tommy calls Steve princess, and Steve feels like he's going insane. Like this can't be happening. And it just spurs Eddie on even more, catching Steve in the hallway one day and breathing in his ear, "Even your friends see that you're a little bitch, baby." AHHHHHHHHH.

#asks #steddie #crybaby steve anon

[jansae]

Gnreader x scaramouche school au

A little bit of A hate-filled relationship

Scaramouche was your bully since your elementry school, he's been bullying you nonstop since then, of course you were fed up with him bullying and embarrassing you infront of everyone, now you're in the last year of collage unfortunately scaramouche was also there like a magnet stuck in your ass. He was literally a pain in the ass, but one day it all changed he FINALLY CROSSED THE. LINE. He embarrassed you infront of your colleagues pushing you as you were walking down the hallway making the popular girl's cup of coffee fall down on your head covering all your clothes and books with the brown stain of coffee, everyone staring at you, as that blonde bitch started bragging about her so called expensive stained-t shirtshe was wearing. you stared back at scaramouche as he was snickering with his friends like he did something so good that he would be voted to be the president.. you got up like nothing happened as you pushed all the students away from your path to go to the washroom to clean up. You were so gonna take revenge on that motherfucker.

After walking down the hallway when scaramouche appeared behind you with his usual smug expression it was not a big deal since you were used to his stupid but handsome face (eheeh). "Well...well...well...look who is there all alone in the hallway huh?" Scaramouche said with his usual smug expression. You weren't scared of him, just....tired of his stupid shit. always tripping you or pushing you down the hallway. But your plan to take revenge on him made you smirk as you stared at him confidently. "So what...like you have real friends?~what do you want?" You asked as you mocked his frends hinting that they were all fake. Something inside you told you to move foreward so you did just that. Making him a little flustered from your sudden confindence boost. He slowly backed away, hitting his back on a random locker, since there was no one on the hallway this was the perfect opportunity to take revenge on him for what he did to you, you thought. you moved even further and locked your eyes with his gorgeous violet eyes. "Oh..I just love to take a big revenge on you" you smirked. "Oh shut up you think I'll be afraid of a bitch like you?" He scoffs. "Never" he spoke again while looking away from your eyes.

You then grabbed his chin making him look at you.

"What do you think you're doing bitch?" He spoke with a blush covering his face, clearly curious of what you were going to do. You then smirked while walking closer to him pinning him to the wall. the Height was clearly seen that he was taller than you obviously you were a girl, but he was so...so...urgh!. Arrogant? No. Attitude. Yes. That's the word. You just wanted to slap him and make him apologize for what he did to you. You groaned looking at him while placing your right hand on the locker trapping him, leaning closer, your hot breath almost hitting his already reddened cheeks, he gulped. then exhaling as if you were tired of him being all so bratty about everything which of course the truth, Placing a finger under his chin and lifting until his gaze was cleary on you. "Why do you bully me so much?"

How is he gonna tell you why just, he liked the attention and the glares that he gets from you when he does something bratty towards you. He just sighed and slapped your hand away that was trapping him. "J-just fuck off" he said pushing you off of him. Looking at him with a questionable and an irritated look, you groaned rolling your eyes, now he looked like an innocent person as if you just bulied him what the fuck is wrong with him.

"We'll see" you shouted as he sprinted down the hallway.

How ever two days went by

without him bothering you for some reason him not follwing you to dump a milkshake on your head kinda felt lonely well, he was the only one who had interest in you practically the whole school didnt like you, tch.. whatever you continued walkin down the hallway when you noticed a pair of voilet eyes looking at you of course you know who it was, scaramouche. Raising a brow when he avoided your gaze and walked faster to his class. "Did I make him uncomfortable?..

Nahh this is kinda cringe. I didnt have anything to do so this is my first post of this blog if you have requests ill be okay to write anything that lol...

#genshin imagines #scaramouche #bullying #genshin x you #standing up for yourself #confident #fem reader #submisive and breedable