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sunkendreams · 6 months

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WHAT COULD’VE BEEN.

( michael schmidt x fem!reader. )

༄ ⠀𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | michael schmidt x [fem!]reader.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 8.8K.

༄ ⠀𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭 | one-shot, not requested. potentially multiple parts.

༄ ⠀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | mentions of past trauma, depression, friends to lovers, confession of feelings, mutual pining, explicit sexual content/smut, virgin!mike, loss of virginity, mike is definitely more submissive here, vaginal sex, riding, making out, dry humping, hair pulling, light dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), cum play, mike moans a lot I don’t make the rules !!

༄ ⠀𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | you guys should’ve seen this coming from a mile away … anyway !! I hope you guys enjoy, I loved the movie & I love Mike even more! If this fic gets good reception, I would like to make a second part or more Mike fics! Please let me know what you think! Thanks so much for your love & support, you guys are just fantastic! ❤️

❝ “What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” ❞

Sparky’s Diner stands proud alongside the highway, a now-dilapidated fixture of a small town. Your parents used to take you here as a child, and at one point, it was your grandmother’s favorite place to eat. Now, it almost seemed forlorn, with the occasional gaggle of patrons or stragglers, but nothing more. You were seated in one of the creaking booths, slumped forward.

Cars whistle past a smudged window pane, slivers of daylight trickling through as they catch against the ceramic surface of your coffee mug. Your leg bounces — it mirrors that of the man sitting across from you. Silence fills the void between the both of you, a tenuous moment that seems to last an eternity until you hear a brief clearing of a throat.

“How’ve you been?”

You hadn’t seen much of Michael Schmidt since the incident at the mall — it was almost as if he’d become the resident recluse, and part of you couldn’t fault him for that. You were working at Auntie Anne’s Pretzels, now doomed as a paper-pusher at the career center. You’d run into Mike that way days prior.

It was a loaded question — you were unsure of how to proceed. Part of you wanted to inquire about his own wellbeing. Exhaustion glistened on his features as if they were a permanent fixture, from the bags underneath his eyes to the far-off look in his bloodshot gaze.

He kept his hands stuffed into his pockets, his stare momentarily trailing between you and the lukewarm mug of coffee sitting in front of him. Mike recalled the days of working at the mall with you — it almost seemed a little easier back then, when he wasn’t completely weighed-down by nightmares and job instability.

Mike still held this nagging sense of guilt for letting your friendship crumble after the mall. You’d tried to reach out on numerous occasions, even after his arrest for assault and battery — no one else had done the same. It was scorched earth wherever he stood, and there wasn’t a single soul willing to get close.

“I’m doing well enough,” Your answer finally emerged after a near-endless bout of silence. The warmth had drained from your mug, but it gave you something to hold onto. “How’s Abby?” Mike’s younger sister was his entire world — you often commended him for his undying commitment to her.

Gone were the days of you sneaking her free cinnamon-sugar pretzels and delivering the leftovers to Mike once your shifts were through. You missed it — it almost felt like some distant dream, when in reality, it was only a year and a handful of months ago.

Any mention of Abby often struck a chord within Mike, as if an amalgamation of memories had come back to haunt him. His countenance was a reflection of that — still anchored down by the ghosts of the past. His dreams were becoming more vivid — worse, even. A sinking feeling consumed him then, jaw tightening as he fought against the onslaught of emotion.

A grimace flickered across his visage, enough for you to become concerned. Your heart began to beat a little faster — had something happened to her? “Mike?” You prompted, voice dropping an octave, softening up as you tilted forward. The last thing you wanted was to bring up painful memories.

You knew about his brother, Garrett.

“She’s fine,” Mike exhaled, pocketed hands perched atop his lap. He hadn’t intended to sound harsh, gaze apologetic as he looked back at you. “I’m sorry. My Aunt, ah … She’s trying to get sole custody of Abby. It’s been an uphill battle.” He confessed, tone downtrodden.

“Mike,” You murmured, brows knitting together as you abandoned your mug, hands twisting themselves together. The pain etched into his face was unmistakable — and he was holding himself together through it all. “That’s awful. Have you talked to the courts?”

A humorless huff of laughter escaped him, followed by a more indifferent expression. “No,” He leaned back within his seat, hands withdrawing themselves from his pockets, splayed out across his lap, instead. “I’m definitely not fit to be raising a kid, I know that much.” Mike sighed, eyes fluttering in the opposite direction.

Protest formed upon the tip of your tongue, prompting you into action. “That’s not true. She’s been glued to your hip, even when we worked at the mall. I think if a Judge saw how much the two of you mean to one another, they wouldn’t take her away.” You murmured.

This was the you that he’d sorely missed — one full of tenderness and a gentle optimism. Mike wanted to believe you, but given the overwhelming circumstances and his Aunt’s persistence, it felt like a losing situation. At least, for now, he had time to work this new job and gain some rapport in the process.

“I hope so,” Mike folded his hands together, resting them atop the stained, plastic tabletop. He wanted to change the subject — for now, anyway. “Thanks for still sticking with me, even after all this time.” He murmured, a pang of guilt gnawing away at his insides. You were a good person — the best that he knew.

He felt like he’d squandered away your friendship to slip into this veil of reclusiveness, instead of still holding onto you, that little ray of sunshine. Mike wanted to make amends with you, and he wanted to start down that path before he’d inevitably ruin it again.

An empathetic smile crept onto your features, followed by a soft exhale. “I wish that we hung out a little more,” You mused, tucking a fist underneath your chin. “But I understand that you’re busy. Did that job work out with Mr. Raglan?” You inquired, eyes sparkling with intrigue.

Mike’s breath hitched within his throat, a very subtle noise — he missed you terribly. Jeremiah used to tease and torment him about the colossal crush he had on you, but those times were buried within the past. His sentiments hadn’t changed, but he didn’t think he brought anything to the table, admittedly.

The job.

A security gig of an obliterated restaurant franchise where the animatronics were operated by the spirits of dead children — that job? Even after the revelation delivered to him by his own sister days prior, he still felt drawn to that place, as if he needed to be there. Abby had fun whenever he took her there — it was comforting to see her laugh and smile again.

“Yeah, the security gig.” A lump formed within his throat. He wanted to tell you all about the haunting at Freddy Fazbear’s, but it almost seemed too unbelievable. He didn’t expect you to believe him anymore after he’d grown distant from you. “It’s going. The pay is horrible, but it’s the only place that’ll take me.”

Mr. Raglan was often attempting to lure people into this security position at Freddy Fazbear’s — it must’ve been a profession with an abnormally-high turnover rate. You recalled one instance of him trying to barter with some older man to take the job.

Your memory of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria was wonderfully vibrant — some of your favorite memories were spent at that restaurant as a child. Friend’s birthday parties, end-of-school summer celebrations, and your own birthday on a handful of occasions. Though, even with brighter times, there was always a splash of darkness.

One of your childhood friends had gone missing — everyone knew about the tale of the disappearing children. Your parents forbid you from going back to that establishment after law enforcement swarmed the place, with detectives scouring it from top to bottom. With a place as family-friendly as Freddy’s being involved at the center of child disappearances, it shut down.

“Freddy’s?” You asked, shifting within your seat. Mike’s countenance held a little spark of uncertainty intermingled with fear — enough for you to mention something about the restaurant’s gruesome history. “It’s supposedly haunted. You haven’t encountered any paranormal activity at night, have you?” You teased, head canting to one side.

Mike couldn’t help but smile — a sardonic, somewhat bemused expression that happened to evoke your curiosity once more. “Something like that.” It was difficult to discern if he was joking or not, truth be told. “Working the night shift, you think you see things — the mind playing tricks or something.” He was afraid of telling you the whole truth right away.

That explained his haggard, sunken look — the disheveled tresses and forlorn stare. He must’ve been exhausted from working nights. You never had the experience of a third shift, but you didn’t envy him. “You look tired,” You chimed, and then, a proposal came to fruition. “Would you want help with watching Abby?”

Max stopped answering her phone, as if she’d become wholly disinterested in babysitting altogether. He couldn’t really blame her — he hadn’t paid up and Abby could be just as reclusive as he was. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. Between you and me, I’ve been taking her to work with me. She likes it there.”

A gentle smile fluttered across your features. The animatronics were adorable — you imagined that Abby liked them quite a bit. “Sure, Mike. If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask. I have some downtime with my job, I don’t know if you can say the same.”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat, chocolate hues captivated by your softened visage. Your smile was mesmerizing — that was still a constant about you, it hadn’t changed whatsoever. Those inklings of affection were spiraling into tidal waves, as if he were back at the mall again, fawning over you from afar as you handed out pretzels.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” He chewed at the inside of his cheek, debating on whether or not he should invite you to come with him to the next shift he worked. It wasn’t a good idea — the animatronics were hostile toward adults, he realized. Maybe Abby could remedy that. “So, are you …” He trailed off.

Were you seeing anybody?

Did you enjoy your job?

Did you want to come over to his place for pizza?

Were you still planning on going to university?

Akin to a deer in the headlights, Mike’s fingers curled into the rough fabric of his jeans as he pondered on what exactly to ask you. He wanted to fully catch up, away from the public spotlight of a run-down, dingy diner — not that his house was any better, but he could clean up.

“Are you going to university?” It was a cowardly option — he could’ve chosen the emboldened route, but it felt too soon, inquiring about details of your personal life. You didn’t owe him anything. You’d talked about going to the University of Utah countless times.

Part of you wanted to inquire about the intricacies of his own life — about his Aunt, about Abby, and perhaps delving a little deeper. You really liked Mike, especially when working at the mall together, and after all this time, nothing had changed. A soft burst of laughter escaped you, followed by a wrinkling of your nose.

“No,” You sighed, tapping your fingers against the ceramic mug sitting on your left. “I don’t know if I can go and realistically afford it. I don’t want to run myself into the ground just for school, you know? I’m trying to save up as much as I can.” Your dreams were still present — just seemingly out-of-reach.

Mike could see the flicker of frustration settle into your features, and he felt for you. He’d thought about trying for engineering at one point in time, but with his parents passing away and the weight of responsibility falling upon his shoulders, it all fell through. “I understand,” He scratched at the top of his hand. “You’ve always been too smart for me.” He mused.

“That’s not true,” You protested, playfully rolling your eyes as you nudged at his shin with your foot. “You’re just as intelligent, if not more. Do you remember when you helped me fix the salt dispenser?” A sense of giddiness rippled through you when Mike smiled — nearly tangible, oozing with warmth.

“I remember,” An inkling of humor crept into his tone, accompanied by a fluctuating smile. “I don’t think you knew what the word ‘twist’ meant.” He prodded, dark eyes twinkling with mirth as the two of you engaged in banter about work — back then, at least.

A scoff left you, but your smile remained ever-present, dimples forming at either corner of your mouth. “In my defense, it was needlessly complex. You can agree with me.” You laughed, glancing outside once more. The day was still young, trees swaying with the breeze as patrons came in and out of the diner.

“Sure,” Mike chuckled, pearlescent teeth flashing in the brief hint of a grin before it began to wane. It was a disappointment, really — you would’ve liked to see more of that. “I do miss the free pretzels.” He mused, voice having lowered to a more amiable tone. Part of him yearned for the days back at the mall — it all seemed a little easier, back then. His Aunt wasn’t trying to take his sister away, and the money was better.

The Mike that you knew back during your time in the mall was laced with a wisecrack humor, as smart as a whip, and often full of conversation. You could tell that he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders — it was his eternal burden, it seemed. Selflessness and compassion were ingrained into him, a second nature or instinct, and you admired him all the more for it.

“I missed you, Mike.” You confessed, gaze seemingly forlorn as the two of you lamented about the not-too-distant past.

It was as if you’d stolen the air right from his lungs, ripped it away with your bare hand. Goosebumps formed along the column of his spine, prompting him to shift within the cracking leather of the booth. You’d rendered him speechless, enough to where he felt the need to try and recuperate, lips parting as if to speak — words turned to ash upon his tongue.

Mike missed you more than words could properly describe — he couldn’t convey whatever it was he wanted to say. He’d kick himself knowing that he let this go, let you go, when it could’ve been his all along. A bevy of emotions stirred within his chest, prompting him to dig the heel of his palms into his legs.

Maybe that lifeline, that support — it was something that he sorely needed. That was his justification, his excuse to say he needed you in a roundabout way. Finally, he allowed himself to relax, jaw clenching and unclenching within the same breath.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, gaining the courage to look you in the eyes this time. “I missed you, too.” His confession hung heavy, like a weight dragging the both of you back into this unspoken sentiment. Whatever courage was instilled in him, he decided to go the extra mile. “You should come over sometime.”

Exhilaration happened to be a mere understatement for whatever it was you felt in that moment — it was borderline ecstasy. You were wholly prepared to launch yourself at the opportunity to spend time with him again, but you composed yourself, keeping any giddiness at bay as you nodded.

“I’d like that — I’d like that a lot, Mike. It’d be nice to see Abby again, too.” You smiled, excitement dancing across your features, barely restrained as you cleared your throat. “I don’t want it to conflict with your work schedule or anything.” You blurted, hoping that he’d be able to keep up with sleep, too.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d invited someone over, but this was you — Mike had already squandered your friendship once before, and he wasn’t about to repeat the past again. It weighed on his conscience enough. “It won’t. Promise.” He reassured you, unable to keep from smiling this time. “Tomorrow night?”

Heat crawled across your features, sinking into your very bones as you cleared your throat. “Tomorrow night works perfectly.” You checked your watch out of habit, nearly cursing yourself when you realized what time it was. You had fifteen minutes to spare before you were officially late for work. “Shit. I’m going to be late for work.”

“I understand. Walk you to your car?” Mike offered, gesturing toward the weed-laden parking lot as you scrambled to toss a crumpled twenty-dollar bill onto the countertop.

“Of course.” Each night after work, he’d walk you to your beat-down, shitty Acura, making sure that you were safe and sound in the dark parking lot. It was comforting to know that his habit hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Once outside, Mike stuck close to your side, hands slipping back into the pockets of his faded jacket as he walked with you to your car. Trash billowed through the parking lot like a tumbleweed, narrowly missing the front of your Acura. “She’s still running?” He teased, patting the top of your decaying vehicle.

“Hey, don’t be mean to the car. It’s still chugging along. That’s more than you can say about your Accord.” You snickered, tossing your bag inside of the passenger door before turning toward Mike. Awkwardness welled inside of you — it wasn’t like you hadn’t hugged him before, but something nagged away at you this time.

Mike let out a huff of laughter, head canting to one side. “Touché.” He mused, visage softening as he looked you over. You were pretty — too pretty for him, but he decided to skip over the brief bout of self-depreciation. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice trailed off in something of an inquiry.

“Absolutely. I’m excited,” You beamed, and without thinking this time, shuffled closer to give him a hug. Much to your delight, he reciprocated, arms wrapping tightly around you, bringing you in against his chest. You could’ve stayed that way for an eternity — but now, you had ten minutes to spare before work. “Thank you, Mike. For everything.”

He was completely and utterly undeserving of you, but Mike counted his lucky stars that you still wanted to stick around. Instead, he accepted your gratitude, wanting to hold you just a little longer — if only. He reluctantly relinquished his grasp on you, gaze oozing with a saccharine warmth. “Yeah,” He nodded. “Drive safe.”

You smiled, exuberant and chipper before you squeezed his hand. “See you tomorrow.” You mused, hopping into the driver’s seat of your rattling, sputtering Acura as you sluggishly pulled out of the parking lot and out onto the road.

Mike lingered in the lot, glancing toward the fading pavement, and then toward the sky — he had so much cleaning up to do tomorrow.

“Help me clean up around here, and I’ll buy you new crayons.”

It was the only viable bribing he could do to get Abby to help him with picking up around the house. Given his chaotic work schedule and the newfound circumstances with the haunted animatronics, there was little time to keep the house tidy.

He’d gone to work that night after you’d departed from the parking lot, slept a little bit while Abby entertained herself with her friends, and went home when the sun came up. He was tense after the first few times he’d taken Abby to the Pizzeria — the animatronics were still dangerous, but nothing bad had happened.

Yet, anyway.

“Who’s coming over?” Abby asked, collecting remnants of trash and crayon pieces from around the living room, depositing it all into the trash can. “Why do we have to clean up if it’s Aunt Jane?” She mumbled, somewhat dejected as Mike scrubbed the dishes.

“It’s not Aunt Jane,” He cleared his throat, visage swarming with heat as it turned a light shade of pink. “You remember Y/N, right? From the mall — she worked at the pretzel place. She gave you the sugar pretzels.” Mike hoped that his sister would remember you, but there were no guarantees. It’d been awhile.

Abby gasped, realization glittering across her features as she grinned — toothy and mischievous. “You like her,” She prompted, standing by her brother as he tediously made his way through the stack sitting by the sink. “Is she coming over for a date?”

“No, it’s not a date, Abby.” Mike groaned, flicking a wad of soapy bubbles at her. She squealed, smacking at his arm before he gestured toward the closet. “Need you to run the vacuum around, okay?” He sighed, wondering if he’d end up regretting this.

“Okay.” Abby sighed, begrudgingly making her way to the storage closet, haphazardly untangling the cord to the vacuum before plugging it in. “Can we get pizza?” She asked, standing beside the couch, vacuum sitting next to her. “Please, Mike?”

“We’ll get pizza, Abs.” He hesitated, swiveling upon his heel as she sat atop the arm of the couch, watching him finish up the dishes instead of vacuuming. “Does the floor clean itself?” Mike teased with a grin, prompting his sister to hop off of her perch, starting up the vacuum as she began to run it around the living room.

By the time Abby finished vacuuming and he’d gotten the kitchen into a near-spotless state, he focused on tidying up his bedroom and getting the laundry together. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone through the entire house like this on a whirlwind just to make it tidy for you — and he’d do it all again if he needed to.

As he tucked the corner of his blanket underneath the pillow, he heard a knock at the door. Mike assumed that it was the pizza guy — or so he hoped. He wanted everything to be perfect, considering that you hadn’t really hung out together since the mall.

“Mike! Pizza!” Abby called out, sitting at the dining room table with a handful of crayons and sheets of paper. She was drawing another picture for her friends — it was all of them in a field of flowers, accompanied by a bright sun and plenty of birds.

It gave him an opportunity to check over the house as he made his way to the front door, ensuring that everything looked spotless. Admittedly, it was the best the house had looked in several months — a twinge of pride rippled through him as he opened up the door.

After Mike handed him a very weathered twenty, the man reluctantly handed the pizza boxes over before hopping off of the front steps.

The timing was perfect — ten minutes later, and the guttural lurching of your Acura could be heard pulling into the driveway outside. Mike placed the pizza onto the table, tossing a handful of paper plates beside it. Abby leaned over, peering toward the door as he lingered close by.

You were nervous — you couldn’t explain it.

Part of you felt wonderfully ridiculous, having worn something that you considered cute to his house, applied a splash of makeup here and there. As you sluggishly made your way to his front door, you smoothed your hands over your blouse, hands knitting together. You waited a beat, and knocked on the door.

Mike was there instantaneously, as if he’d somehow teleported to that very spot. The door flung open, and you were greeted by his beaming countenance. It was the happiest you’d seen him in some time, which was something of a relief. He looked attractive — the emerald sweater suited him perfectly.

“Hi,” You greeted, offering him a brief wave as you stepped inside, only to be swarmed by Abby in the process. “Abby!” You giggled, stooping down to return the girl’s hug. “You’ve gotten taller, haven’t you? You’re going to beat your brother in no time.” You teased, lips twitching into a grin.

“Did you bring any pretzels?” Abby asked, staring at you with those large, doe-like eyes. A pang of guilt struck at your stomach — you hadn’t worked at Auntie Anne’s for several months now.

“No,” You sighed, shaking your head back and forth. “I don’t make pretzels anymore. I put away lots of paperwork now.” It sounded less appealing when you said it outloud. “I did bring something else for you, though.” You unzipped your bag, revealing a very fuzzy, stuffed rabbit.

Abby gasped, taking ahold of your gift as she squeezed it against her chest. “He’s so cute!” She giggled, showing off the bunny to Mike, who couldn’t help but smile. You’d always been very good to Abby, able to forge a bond with her that he envied on occasion. “Thank you!”

Laughter bubbled forth from your lips, mirth sparkling upon your features. “Of course! I hope he keeps you warm at night.” You mused, glancing towards the pizza boxes organized in a neat row on the dining room table. “You got Greek’s? You’re spoiling me.”

As Abby hopped toward the table to dig into the cheese pizza, Mike gestured at the kitchen. You followed him over, removing your jacket as you hung it on one of the pegs along the wall. “Want something to drink?” He asked, noticing the bemused expression you wore. “I don’t have anything stronger than Dr. Pepper.”

Your nose wrinkled in amusement as you leaned against the countertop, glancing over your shoulder at Abby. The rabbit sat soundly at her side, crayons and paper scattered on the empty side of the table. “I’ll just drink Dr. Pepper.” You chimed, having a gander at your surroundings. You’d been to his place several times before, but it was abnormally spotless.

“Sure,” Mike mused, handing you a can of soda before clearing his throat. “Abby wants to watch Labyrinth, if that’s okay with you.” He’d watched the movie a hundred times before — it was one of her favorites. Unfortunately, he’d memorized most of Bowie’s quotes throughout the film.

“Absolutely,” You chuckled, popping open the drink with a soft hiss. “I wouldn’t say no to that, anyway. It’s a certified classic.” With a bright smile, you and Mike returned to the table, joining Abby as you ate pizza together. The atmosphere was beyond comforting to you — you wondered why you were so anxious to begin with.

It felt like home.

“You don’t like it, do you?”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Mike was completely and utterly bored with Labyrinth. The two of you sat a comfortable distance away on the couch, Abby laying on the floor, dozing in and out of slumber. You kept your voice hushed, knees tucked toward your chest as a playful smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

“Do you know how many times I’ve seen this movie?” Mike whispered, rolling off of the couch as he stooped down to pick up Abby, making sure to grab her rabbit, too. “I’m gonna put her to bed.” He murmured, and you decided to follow, making sure to retrieve her crayons and half-drawn doodles.

As Mike slowly crept into Abby’s room, he tucked his sister into bed, making sure that she had her stuffed animal, blankets neat around her. You stacked the crayons and drawings back onto her desk, standing at the fringes of the doorway.

Crickets chirped outside as dusk settled like a cool blanket, stars spattered across the night sky. It was peaceful, especially as you watched Mike press a kiss against the top of Abby’s head.

Once he closed the door behind him, the two of you returned to the living room. You were more than happy to help him clean up the pizza remnants and any dishes, folding up the boxes to put into the trash until you were both back on the couch again.

“I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, Mike. Thank you for inviting me over — and for buying me dinner, too.” You mused, the two of you a little closer than before. Labyrinth provided a simple background lull, the volume barely above silent. “Do you want me to pay you back?”

“I’m glad we got to do this again,” Mike felt butterflies erupt within the pit of his stomach. The sudden realization of being alone with you was tantalizing, at best. Gooseflesh spread across the back of his neck, one hand poised atop the arm of the sofa. “Don’t worry about dinner. It’s on me.”

“Okay,” A soft huff of laughter left you as you tilted your head back against the plush material, one hand within your lap as the other dangled uselessly at your side. “Could I ask you something?”

Mike nodded, swallowing the growing lump within this throat. A nervous excitement flared up inside of him, as if a match had been struck. A slick perspiration broke out on his palms — he wanted to tell you everything. About the animatronics, about Garrett, about how he felt about you — and yet, he was afraid. “Anything.”

You briefly chewed at the inside of your cheek, adjusting your position to look at him fully. “Did I do something wrong to cause you to pull away from me?” You asked, voice dropping into a soft lull. It was a question that had been on your mind since this whole rekindling.

“Absolutely not,” Mike blurted, and immediately shook his head. “It’s just — after what happened at the mall, I was afraid of what you’d think of me.” He confessed, dark hues echoing with shame. “Legal issues piled up, I was out of a job. It’s been a lot.”

What do you think of him?

Mike Schmidt was the center of your world for the longest time — and now that he was back, it was as if the Moon had come back into orbit, bright and full again. He was perfectly imperfect in your eyes, and you wouldn’t change anything at all. “Mike,” You mumbled, reaching for his hand as your fingers closed around his own. “I don’t think any less of you. I never have.”

Your skin was smooth, velveteen as he adjusted his grip, fingers twining together as you sat on the couch, closer than ever before. The distance between the both of you was steadily declining, and he didn’t mind. “I felt like I ruined things between us before,” He murmured. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Your heart thrummed within your chest, beating erratically beneath your breast. A subtle gasp hitched within your throat, producing only a sliver of sound. “You didn’t ruin anything. You’ve been through so much, Mike. I can’t blame you for needing space.”

“I felt like I lost what could have been.” He confessed, voice growing abnormally thick. Mike stared at you with those round, dark eyes of his — they were impossibly beautiful, like an inescapable maze. You wondered what he meant by that — what could have been.

Whatever he meant, you hoped that it meant one thing — something unspoken, the sentiment that lingered between the two of you. It was as if a flame had been stoked, roaring to life again as it steadily consumed the both of you.

“What could’ve been, Mike?” You whispered, absentmindedly rocking closer until your chest nearly bumped into his shoulder.

A saccharine affection glistened within his warm stare, enough to burn a hole right through you as he squeezed your hand. “Us.” He exhaled, jaw clenching and unclenching, a nervous habit of his.

Your lips were melded to his before either of you had a chance to properly absorb the weight of the moment. He was a gentle kisser — so sweet and oozing with compassion that you wanted to drown in it. His week-old stubble scratched against your visage, a sign that this was all very real.

Experience wasn’t a foreign concept for you, but Mike was — he was so tender, as if any movement might break you into pieces. Even his kisses were sluggish, as if he were really taking his time. You couldn’t complain about that whatsoever. You rocked forward, untangling your hands as your digits twisted into his sweater.

“Hey,” Mike breathed, doe-eyed and dazed as he withdrew, mere inches apart from you. “Are you okay with this?” He asked, ensuring that you were comfortable before going any further. He hadn’t had sex — maybe everything before, but nothing further.

“Yeah,” You nodded, keeping your voice low as you felt his arm wrap around you. “Are you? I don’t want you to push anything if you aren’t comfortable.” You murmured, and he shook his head, pressing another soft kiss against your mouth.

His fingers swept across your cheek, caressing along your jaw as he cradled your face within his palm. “I’m fine,” Mike reassured you, but his heartbeat said otherwise. Exhilaration and excitement were mere understatements. Everything else had paled in comparison to you in that moment. “You’re really beautiful.”

A soft wisp of air tore past your parted lips, gaze becoming half-lidded as you repositioned your hands, one slipping against the nape of his neck. The other remained stationary atop his chest, and you leaned in again for another passionate kiss.

Mike was warm — he was everything you’d ever wanted.

Distance became slim, next to nothing as you crawled into his lap, slotted atop one of his thighs as you continued to kiss him. It turned sultry, charged with a more intimate element as one hand settled against your hip, digits toying with the hem of your blouse. His scent was that of cologne and fresh linens, perhaps a hint of something sweet.

He switched the television off, holding you close, chest to chest as you broke away from the kiss. The way he looked at you was mesmerizing to behold — Mike stared at you as if you were some diamond in the rough. You pressed your lips against his cheek, reveling in the way he keened into your embrace.

Your mouth peppered a string of kisses along his jaw, tugging some of his sweater down as you made your way along his neck. A soft, simpering groan escaped him when your mouth met his neck, enough for you to shiver with delight. His hands began to skim underneath your shirt, feeling along your curves.

“S’nice.” Mike mumbled, able to feel the tangible imprint of your smile against his jugular. Admittedly, he hadn’t been kissed like that — he nearly asked for you to do it again, tugging you closer as your mouth crept back up, lips seamlessly melding against his.

He was sweet — you thoroughly enjoyed the way he touched you, with a gallant certainty. There wasn’t a singular domineering bone in his body, and you were all the more grateful for it. You nearly flew out of his lap when you heard a noise from the kitchen.

“Bedroom?” You whispered, watching as Mike nodded, moving up from the couch as he reached for your hand this time. It was a very short skip to his room, which happened to be impeccably clean, just like the rest of the house. It was dark and nondescript, but before you could analyze it all, you felt his hands fly back to your blouse.

You lifted your arms, feeling the weight of the fabric leave your body. Goosebumps followed like a tidal wave, scrawled across your flesh as Mike kissed you again. It never lacked passion — it wasn’t rough nor desiring dominance, just complete and utter sweetness.

Mike was hesitant to confess to being a virgin — it didn’t necessarily matter, but it came back to the whole notion of what you would think. He wasn’t clueless in the slightest, but you deserved to know. Maybe you’d be disappointed.

As you sank down onto the edge of the mattress, he followed suit, clamoring with you until the both of you ended up tangled together atop the pillows. Every kiss was heartachingly sweet, fused together with a blistering tenderness. Your heat tilted, deepening your entanglement as your hands clutched at his sweater.

“I’ve never done this before,” He murmured, prompting you to pause, feeling the weight of his body partially draped on top of you. “Does that bother you?” Mike asked, earthen hues scanning your expression for any sign of hesitancy.

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” In fact, you found it to be endearing — it made everything sweeter. “I’ve done this before. Does that bother you?” It wasn’t something that you wore as a badge of honor. He was a shitty guy anyway, but what happened, happened.

Mike gently shook his head, feeling your fingers slip underneath the hem of his sweater. “Not in the slightest.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper. His hands stilled for a moment, stomach sloshing with excitement and a newfound sense of giddiness. “Can I touch you?”

His asking for consent was sweet — perhaps it was the doe-eyed, affectionate look he had or the soft tone of his voice, or both. Nonetheless, you found yourself enticed, feeling his hands dance around the waistband of your jeans. You were the emboldened one, wriggling out of the snug garment without warning.

“Yes,” You uttered, giving his sweater another urgent tug, wanting to feel more of him. Mike obliged, kneeling between your legs as he removed the emerald-colored garment, letting it join the pile amassing at the foot of his bed. “You’re so pretty.” You sighed, and he blushed.

The compliment did wonders for him, and he became visibly smitten by your words. He was all lean muscle, nothing bulky or grotesque, broad shoulders layered in a light smattering of freckles. “Thanks.” It got him to smile again, dutifully returning to you as he swallowed the growing lump within his throat.

Before you had time to conjure up a playful remark, his mouth was against yours, body closer than before as his hands felt across your form. Your arms draped themselves around his neck, fingers roaming through his dark tresses as you gave them a light tug. It elicited a soft noise from the back of his throat.

He kissed you until your lips were swollen, chasing after that sensation. Even kissing you made him aroused, cock pulsating with a dull throbbing as his thigh nudged against your clothed core. It became increasingly hot and less tactful, kisses devolving into a mess of need — teeth, tongue, and want.

It was his turn to layer the column of your throat in a myriad of kisses, stubble tickling the silky flesh of your neck. Your knees squeezed at his hips, feeling one of his hands knead into your clothed chest, gently groping at your breast. A low moan escaped you, and you only wanted more.

“Keep going.” You encouraged, voice breathy and wrought with a sultry tension. You reached back, hastily fiddling with the clasp of your brassiere, flinging the garment aside. Mike’s visage was permanently tinted with a shade of rose, lips parting as he resumed his touching.

Instead, his hand skimmed lower, and he searched your countenance for any signal of disdain as it dipped beneath the waistline of your panties. Mike’s breath hitched within his throat when he touched you, fingers finding your cunt, already slick with arousal. “More?” He asked, seeking a little bit of guidance.

“Yes,” You groaned, hips canting forward into his embrace, desperate for friction. He provided it to you with a swiftness, hunched over you as two digits slipped past your folds, stroking along your slit. “Mike!” Another simpering whine left you, one hand clutching onto his shoulder.

He was so sweet, like sticky, oozing honey as he pressed a string of kisses along the side of your face, pressing himself closer as his fingers found their rhythm. They slid against your aching core, one circling around your clit, causing you to lurch forward.

Mike appeared surprised when you reached for his belt, hastily unclasping it with one hand. Another pang of excitement struck him as you delved beneath his jeans with a neediness that he so desperately craved. He was starved for contact, ministrations slowing when your hand slipped into his boxers.

His cock twitched, bleeding heat into your palm as you felt around, experimenting at first. There was a dazed, needy look in his eyes, chocolate hues glazed-over by a sheen of want. Desperation was a mere understatement — he was starving, needing the contact like he needed air. You provided, amiable as ever.

“You — You don’t have to,” Mike mumbled, attempting to mask the complete and utter bliss he was feeling in that moment. As your soft palm wrapped around his cock, he let out a guttural whine, forehead pressed into yours. “Jesus.” He groaned, trying to keep his volume at a reasonable octave.

“Don’t stop,” You huffed, feeling him sink lower onto you, heat radiating from your entangled bodies. “Mike, please.” Another moan left you when he resumed in full swing, barely able to focus on pleasuring you and his own state of enjoyment.

As his thumb pressed into your clit, his other digits sought to gently prod at your cunt, beginning to work themselves inside of you. It was perfectly in-tandem with the slow strokes of your palm around his erection, pumping at his length with a scorching level of desire. He was panting in your ear, hips snapping forward into your hand.

It was heat and desire and passion that blossomed between the both of you, like a thick, inescapable haze. His flesh felt dewy beneath your fingertips, which found residence against the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of his disheveled tresses.

He was borderline rutting into your thigh, lurching forward into your fist, cock throbbing with a dull ache as you continued to stroke him off. Mike wanted to be loud, but there was a risk involved in that. A needy, sonorous moan left him, ghosting above the shell of your ear as his fingers gently pistoned in and out of your tight cunt.

“You’re perfect,” He breathed, mumbling an incoherent string of sweet nothings into your shoulder. Perspiration crept along the column of your spine, knees occasionally squeezing at Mike’s hips as the two of you touched one another as if it were your last time. “Perfect.” Mike mumbled again.

You tugged on his hair, dragging him closer for another sloppy, obliging kiss, to which he happily reciprocated. You could hear another whimper leave him as your lips clashed, causing you to shudder in delight. He was thrusting himself into your palm, tendrils of precum slick against your fingers.

“Want me to stop?” You mumbled, and he nodded against your shoulder. Mike knew that if you kept it up, he wouldn’t last — and it seemed completely and utterly pathetic if he did so this early on. Your grasp began to slack, hand slipping out of his boxers.

A twinge of disappointment ripped through you when his hand ceased, but it dissipated just as soon as it appeared. Mike’s hands curled into the waistband of your panties, gingerly easing them down along the length of your legs, body slipping lower as he did so. His gaze silently begged for your consent, and you weren’t about to refuse him.

“Is this okay?” Mike murmured, shuddering in delight when your head bobbed up and down several times over in an enthusiastic nod. He hadn’t done this before, but thankfully, it wasn’t difficult — and he was a quick learner. He pressed a trail of benevolent kisses along your thigh, stubble tickling your flesh in the process.

Your throat became thick, feeling his broad shoulders push past your legs, keeping them parted. “Mike,” A sigh of passion left you, hand clamoring to grasp at his tresses yet again. One hand kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh, the other splayed atop your hip bone until your fingers found his.

Nervousness swelled within him as he inched closer, feeling some nagging pang of hesitation. He was terrified of disappointing you, but he remembered what you’d said earlier — you’d never think less of him. “Tell me if it’s too much.” A soft utterance emerged from him before he dipped inward, breath hot as it fanned across your thighs.

Not in the slightest.

His tongue raked hot embers across your cunt, stoking the flame that burned bright within the pit of your stomach. Mike’s head became foggy with lust, swimming with desire as he kept a more exploratory pace. Your honeyed scent wafted around him, dragging him in again as he laps at your slit.

You were in disbelief — he hadn’t done this before? It almost prompted you to ask, but his mouth happened to rip those thoughts right out of your skull. A soft barrage of licks lashing against your cunt had you squirming, hips rolling forward into his mouth. A low moan left the both of you, fingers perusing through his mop of dark curls.

A myriad of whimpers left your parted lips, causing Mike to shift against the mattress, hips grinding forward to relieve some of the friction. His cock strained against his boxers, finding pleasure just in giving it all to you.

A thin layer of dewy perspiration broke out along your flesh, provided by the continuous wave of heat drifting between the both of you. Your thighs quivered as warmth pooled between your thighs, and Mike was there to kiss it all better, tongue trailing over your cunt again and again, stubble prickling at your soft flesh.

He wanted to be inside of you so bad — there was an ache present, one that only you could cure. Mike wanted to savor you, drunk upon your very being as a soft groan left him. Your digits continued to tug on his tresses, causing him to keen forward, lips pursing around your clit.

“S—Shit, Mike!” You mewled, attempting to keep your volume at a hushed octave. It was proving to be increasingly difficult, writhing against him as he hunched inward, nearly forgetting to breathe.

Mike inhaled, kissing the inside of your thigh as he dutifully lapped at your slit again. He alternated between your wet cunt and clit, suckling on the sensitive clutch of nerves. His jaw clenched, hips jolting into the mattress again as he haplessly tried to relieve some of the mounting tension.

Your chest heaved with a myriad of throaty, high-pitched whimpers as he sucked on your clit, stars rippling past your vision. No one had ever gone down on you with such reverence and passion before, but now that you’d gotten a taste, you wanted more.

Jesus — his resolve crumbled with every sound you made, each cant of your hips as you rocked into his mouth. Mike let out a whimper — he almost hoped that you didn’t hear how pathetic it sounded, continuing to lap at your core until you were seeing white.

That coil began to unfurl, blistering heat coursing through you, a white-hot rush of sheer ecstasy that caused you to moan and cry out. Mike continued to sweetly embrace your cunt, lips lightly kissing at your clit. Your body rattled like a leaf, tremors of your orgasm shooting through you.

“I need you,” Mike huffed, his voice strung-out with lust, hoarse and throaty as his fingers clamped into the pliant flesh of your hips. “Please.” You were on the cusp of cumming, hopelessly aroused by his sweet pleas as you lifted his head away, enough for him to look at you.

Those sweet, doe-like eyes of his were dilated with desire, his expression one of sheer desperation, breathing having sped up. You sat up on your elbows, enthralled by the way he hovered between your legs like a ravenous man. “You can have me,” You murmured. “Always.”

Mike sprung into action, hastily tearing his jeans off as he crawled up the length of your body, pressing a string of appreciative kisses against your velveteen skin. “You’ll stop me, right?” He inquired, nearly rendered speechless when you hitched a leg around his waist, fingers grasping at his shoulders.

“Yeah,” You nodded, feeling his fingertips ghost along your hairline, idly pushing disheveled strands aside before he stooped in for a kiss. You had no intention of stopping him whatsoever, reciprocating his affections before you plucked at the waistband of his boxers. “Just go at your own pace, okay?”

He was filled with longing, bursting at the seams as he freed his cock from its confines. He feared that he wouldn’t last long at all if he went this extra mile, but there was no turning back. Mike didn’t want to turn back, either. A moan rippled through him as he dragged the head of his length through your folds.

It reminded you of a feral animal — his countenance glistened with an ardent sensuality, pupils blown-out with lust as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. Admittedly, you loved that Mike was so needy — and he wasn’t ashamed of it, either. He lacked a single ounce of dominance, even if he was on top of you.

“You feel so good,” You moaned, forehead pressed against his own as he began to move, hips awkwardly snapping forward. It was a rocky, unstable rhythm, but you didn’t mind it in the slightest. “Mike,” A wanton sigh left you as your hands found his tresses once more.

Mike’s mouth brushed against yours, thrusting himself inside of you as he gained a rather sluggish pace. His cock throbbed uncomfortably, yearning for a release as he rocked forward again. Another low-pitched whine left him when you tugged on his hair. “I—It’s perfect.” He panted, flesh searing and damp.

His head dropped toward your collarbone, face buried within the crook between your neck and shoulder. A shudder rolled down the length of his spine as you coaxed him close, hips occasionally grinding into his pelvis, creating a friction that he wanted to chase after.

A string of incoherent babbles escaped him, enigmatic and so very breathy, hot skin melding against your own body. His pace became borderline erratic, as if he didn’t know what fit — he just wanted to be inside of you. It felt euphoric, feeling your cunt tighten around his cock as he rutted into you.

Ecstasy blistered through him like a tidal wave, and he almost felt dizzy, fucking into you at a constantly-shifting pace. He alternated from sluggish to swift, unsure of what felt right, but you were mewling into his ear. You showered him with sweetly-spoken praises, mouth seeking his lips for another messy kiss.

Mike’s hips continued to snap forward, cock aching as he neared his release. Your hand snaked between the both of you, thumb circling your clit as he bucked forward again, releasing another groan. “M’close.” Mike huffed, giving you ample forewarning as he kept up the pace.

“Please cum for me,” It was needlessly filthy, the command that tore past your mouth, but it certainly evoked a strong reaction from him. He stammered, letting out a whine as he fucked into you with a lazy passion. “Cum in me, Mike.” You moaned.

He didn’t know if he heard you right, but he rutted into you again and again, cock pulsing with warmth as he came. Mike pulled out halfway through, painting your thigh in hot ropes of his cum, flesh blazing with embarrassment.

Even in the blissful aftermath, he couldn’t help but apologize for the mess. “Sorry,” He was blushing, chest heaving with excitement as he regained his composure, slowly but surely. The rush and exhilarating thrill was still present as he rolled off of the bed, scrambling to retrieve a washcloth from his bathroom. “Here.”

His apology was endearing — sickly-sweet, too. You cleaned yourself off, making sure that the cloth ended up in the dirty laundry. You were sitting up just enough for him to press in behind you, feeling his lips pepper themselves along your spine.

You twisted around, curling into his arms as you draped yourself on top of him, swollen lips coaxing him in for an achingly tender kiss. It was pure bliss — it lacked the crazed desire from earlier, lust dissipating into affection instead. “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” You mumbled against his mouth.

“Positive,” Mike assured, hiking the sheets up over the both of you, watching as you wormed your way into one of his t-shirts. “You’re really beautiful.” He murmured, digits stroking at your hair, caressing around your temples as you perched your chin atop his chest.

“So are you.” Your smile became saccharine, entranced by your brown-eyed paramour. “Your eyes are pretty,” You uttered, hands splaying themselves out against his chest as he held you close. “So warm.”

Crimson saturated his features as he accepted your doting compliments without question. He wasn’t used to it, but he could adjust. Your lips were swift this time, melding together in a seamless kiss as he took his time, committing every detail of you to memory. “Stay with me?” He murmured, palm lightly caressing at the back of your head.

“Of course.” You settled, limbs tangled together beneath the sheets as you made yourself comfortable within his arms. It was something that you weren’t bound to forget about anytime soon, dozing off to the sound of his steady breathing.

It was the best he’d slept in ages.

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #fnaf x reader #fnaf x you #fnaf x y/n #mike schmidt x y/n #fnaf movie #fnaf fanfic #slasher x reader #fanfiction #josh hutcherson

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oneforthemunny · 17 days

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surprise, surprise |eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie forgets your birthday. or maybe he doesn't.

my birthday is in a few days and i wanted to write a little birthday ficlet blurb :) no aus, just eddie.

contains: angst/fluff. birthday doom. kinda asshole eddie?? kinda asshole friends?? really fluffy sweet ending. language.

“So,” Heather leaned over, chin propped in her hands dramatically slumped over the counter. “What’re you doing this weekend?”

“Nothing,” You hummed, fingers flicking through the crinkled bills. “Why? You know something fun going on?”

“It’s your birthday.” Heather gawked playfully. “You’re not doing anything for your birthday?”

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the cash drawer closed. “No.” You shook your head, voice tight.

“Eddie isn’t taking you out?” Heather’s brows furrowed. “Or you’re not going home? Going out? Are you getting a cake?”

Your heart sank, a familiar burn rising in your chest. You didn’t speak about your birthday much, not much of an occasion for celebration to you, more of one that was dreadful. Another year closer to death, you’d grumble cynically. Still, when Eddie hadn’t even acknowledged it, when your friends had all blown you off for other plans, a new kind of ache formed in your chest. The sting of being forgotten, of being unimportant and discarded- on your birthday.

It left a bitter taste on your tongue, sardonic and painful when you spoke about your impending birthdate. “No,” You shook your head, chin ducked to your chest. You had never wanted a customer to come in so badly, save you from this painful conversation with your co-worker. “They’re all busy.”

“Oh.” Heather quipped, face falling at your tone.

“I mean, it’s my fault.” You added quickly- defensively. Why you were so defensive over the people who had discarded you so easily, you weren’t sure. “I should have planned something earlier, but… I dunno, I got busy and life got super hectic and it just slipped past me-”

“-No,” Heather shook her head, curls unmoving with the abundance of Aquanet she used, still. “That’s really shitty of them, all of them. It’s your birthday.”

You stayed silent, wiping the counter half heartedly, swallowing back the familiar burn in your throat that choked you. “I mean, if it was my girlfriend or my friend, I would be buggin’ about their birthday.” Heather shrugged.

“Yeah, me too.” You muttered. Bouts of memories pouring back into your mind. How you’d planned a party for Eddie, baked him some stupid cake from scratch that was in the Lord of the Rings. You’d gone to countless second hand stores trying to find the ancient recipe, and it took you a day to perfect. Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to take you out? Get you a cheap store bought cake?

“I’m sorry.” Heather muttered, a solemn, nearly guilty pout on her lips. “Well, you’re off tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I get off at three. What if we go out? We can go to the bar- oh, there’s this new band playing in Franklin. Tommy could drive us.” Heather, ever the bubbly optimist, grinned, eyes shining with pride. It was endearing, made your heart squeeze with an ache you weren’t quite sure how to describe.

“I’ll even get you a cupcake. A good one, from Nadia’s.” Heather added.

“You don’t have to do that.” You shook your head lightly. You and Heather were work friends, hung out on the rare occasion after work to bitch about work, about the other coworkers, the pain-in-the-ass customers of the day over glasses of Pinot. Selfishly, it felt nice to have someone excited for your birthday.

You hated that you wished it was Eddie, your own friends.

“What’s your flavor, hm? Chocolate?” Heather pressed, brushing you off cheerily.

“Don’t get me a cupcake. I’ll throw it up if we’re drinking. All the icing and liquor.” You snarled your nose playfully.

“Fine. I’m buying you a drink then.” Heather nodded. She paused, nails drumming on the counter too. “And, I mean, if you want Eddie to come too, of course he’s invited.” Her eyes cut to yours carefully. “I didn’t know if you wanted him to come.”

“I mean, I don’t know if he’d even be able to.” Your lips pursed, a cutting edge of annoyance in your tone. “He’s so busy.”

Heather cringed, shooting you an apologetic look. “Yeah, that… I’m sorry, that sucks.” She mumbled.

A stiff silence fell between the two of you over the whirr of the air conditioning blowing through the vents. “Since it’s so dead, why don’t you go early?” Heather suggested. “I can cover closing.”

“Heather, Mel will be pissed-”

“-Mel will be pissed if she has to pay both of us for standing around.” Heather gave you a pointed look. “And you came in before me. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” You hesitated. “I don’t care to stay in case there’s a rush-”

“-At seven?” Heather scoffed slightly. “Go. I’ve got it.”

“Thank you.” You smiled softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you when I’m on my way, ‘kay?” Heather chirped.

“See you then.” You waved, cringing at the sing-songy Happy birthday! Heather shouted at you.

You pulled open your cubby, gathering your purse, your umbrella. You wrote your time on the clipboard, the phone taunting you on the hook next to it. Any other day, you’d call Eddie- call home or the shop, wherever he was, just to let him know you’d be home early. He’d always reply with a silly comment that had your cheeks rushing with heat, warmth swelling in your chest.

Tonight, you decided against it. He was too busy, anyway. Too busy at the shop, with his friends, at band practice. You tried not to dwell on it, let your mind spiral and spin down a damning dark hole of what ifs. It consumed you anyways, on your drive home, the radio playing on a static filled station that you didn’t bother to change. Background noise drowned out by your own hammering heart.

Eddie’s van was parked in the gravel of his driveway, leaving just enough space for you to slide in under the covering attached to the trailer. He always let you have that spot, closer to the door, protected from the elements- so considerate.

It was hard to fathom that it was the same boy who had forgotten your birthday, brushed it off like it was just another day.

Your throat tightened around the ever growing lump, hands tight from the white knuckled grip you had on the wheel when you turned the keys out of the ignition. The stairs squeaked under your weight, the screen door hissing with the familiar soft screech when you pulled it open.

“No- Henderson, what the fuck is the matter with you?” Eddie huffed, his voice trailing in from the living room.

You paused, hand catching the door as it fell, quieting it as it latched. The air was thick, warm with a sticky, sweet smell. Music playing in a low hum from Eddie’s beloved boom box he kept in the living room.

“You said to hang it!” Dustin’s shrill tone cut through the air.

“Yeah, hang it high- Jesus Christ, I shoulda just waited until Robin got off.” Eddie was hidden by the wall, but you could practically see him pinching his nose, hand running over his curly bangs. “Can you- Can you go see if we can ice the cake yet?”

“Yeah, what do I do?” Dustin questioned, a silence falling between the two of them. Your lips curled, swallowing a giggle. “What? I’m not a master chef or something. You act like I should know this. There wasn’t a cake making class-”

“-There was, you moron. Home Ec, which clearly, you failed.” Eddie huffed in annoyance. You froze at his heavy footsteps, voice carrying closer and closer.“Whatever, can you- just make it look nice in here? Put the rest of the streamers up and- shit!” Eddie flinched, jumping at the sight of you in the doorway. Wide eyed and still, like you’d been caught.

“Baby,” Eddie’s breath startled. “Hey, uh, what are you- you said you didn’t get- you’re home already?” His voice lifted, carried high in a squeak of surprise.

“Yeah, I got off early. I thought you were working late.” Your brows furrowed at the tear of plastic, leaning to look around the corner. “What are you doing-”

“-Don’t look in there.” Eddie snapped, his hand falling on the doorframe, arm blocking your vision. You jumped, glaring at him with annoyance. “I thought you closed tonight?”

“I thought you closed tonight.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest. “Clearly that’s not true. What is this? Another campaign night?” You rolled your eyes, body burning with irritation, jaw wound tight with it.

“What? N-No, I-I thought you wouldn’t be home until later, and I’d have more time-” Eddie rambled, side stepping to block your view behind him.

“-Ed, I don’t care if that’s what it is.” Your shoulders deflated, a wave of painful exhaustion, disappointment falling over you. “I just wish you would’ve let me know before you invite all these people over to play your game, so I could-” A shimmering glimmer of multicolored sequins caught your eyes, shining in the yellowed light of the kitchen, iridescent hued droplets cast over the cabinets. There, draped over the chair in bright, glittering letters, a small sash that read Happy Birthday! in obnoxiously big letters.

You paused, eyes scanning towards the cake, cooling on the rack next to the mixing bowl of icing, the icing spatula still in it. Paper mache streamers taped to the ceiling, hung in swooping bouts mixed with the shiny streamers and balloons all the way to the living room. Eddie had brought out the folding table from the crawl space, even put a plastic tablecloth from the store over it to hide the yellowing stains that would never fade.

Dustin’s eyes met yours, wide and darting between you and Eddie, still holding the roll of streamers he’d yet to hang. “Uh, Happy Birthday?” Dustin shrugged.

Eddie huffed, shaking his head at him. “Fuck, I-I’m sorry, it was supposed to be a surprise.” Eddie’s foot bounced with anxious adrenaline. “I thought you didn’t get off until eight, and-and I had it all planned, sweetheart, I really did. Steve’s getting the pizza, and everyone’s coming over at seven thirty-ish, and I- I was even going to have them park at Wayne’s in the back so you wouldn’t see.”

Your chest felt deflated, void of any air, words, anything. Eddie chewed on his lip, hands twitching next to his jeans. “It was going to be this whole thing, fuck!” He huffed. “It was going to be a whole big thing, and…”

Eddie’s heart leapt when your eyes finally met his. His fingers still drummed against the rough material of his jeans, veins filled with icy excitement, fear, anticipation? He wasn’t sure.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, stepping to hover over you, voice dropping to a soft coo, hands sliding over your cheeks. “I’m- I wanted it to be a surprise.”

You swallowed thickly. Eddie’s touch was soft, but it left you with a tingling burn when his thumb delicately traced your cheek bone. “You- This is for me?” You squeaked.

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, brows creasing. “Well, yeah.” He said playfully. “Who else would it be for?”

Your brain was deafeningly silent, stunned at every new detail you’d discover. “You said you were busy.” Was all you could muster out, blinking up at Eddie. “You said you had to work late.”

“I might have fibbed a little.” Eddie tilted his head sillily. “Told a little lie so I could get this set up.” He nodded towards the living room, a balloon floating near the doorway.

“I just really wanted to surprise you.” Eddie’s shoulders fell. “I was trying to outdo you. Tryna out do what you did for mine. I called all your friends- even Alexandra,” You rolled your eyes at the mention, she was Eddie’s least favorite friend of yours.

“And I… I just wanted to surprise you.” Eddie blinked down at you. “Just wanted your day to be special.”

Your day, the phrase wrapped around you, swirled through your veins like a warm hug, squeezing your heart.

“I’m sorry, it… I didn’t think about work.” Eddie shook his head, running a hand over his forehead. “I didn’t even think about it, and I-”

“-Eddie,” Your voice caught in your throat.

Eddie tensed, cringing with expectant dread. He’d ruined it, blew it, the tears were coming and they were deserved. You’d done so well on his, surprised the hell out of him with the cake, decorated for his birthday campaign with lanterns and candles you’d thrifted. Gone all out for him, and he couldn’t even pull off a simple surprise party.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie whispered, head pressing to yours. His eyes cut around the room, making sure a certain Henderson pest was lurking.

“Sorry?” You repeated. “Eddie, I-I am surprised.” You choked out, looking around the room with gleaming eyes.

Eddie paused. “You are?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I thought you’d forgotten.” You admitted. “I thought everyone had forgotten.”

Eddie’s brows pinched in a confused scowl. “You thought I’d forget?” He muttered.

A watery laugh fell from your lips before you could stop it. “Yeah.” You admitted. “You were really convincing.”

Eddie’s chest boasted playfully. “Oscar worthy?”

“You’d sweep the competition.” You jested back, arms sliding over his forearms. His hands found home on the small of your waist, pulling you into him.

“I didn’t forget your birthday.” Eddie said softly. “Just… for the record.”

“I can see that.” You giggled. “Thank you. It’s-It’s really sweet.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it.” Eddie’s hands rubbed down your spine. “It would look better but… Robin and Nancy didn’t get off until later, and it’s just me and Henderson.”

“It looks great. Perfect.” Your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his t-shirt. His nice shirt, Eddie always called it. Broke it out for special occasions.

“Not perfect. Fucked up the main part.” Eddie grumbled. “I can call everyone, let them know that they can park out front since there’s no surprise anymore.”

“No, don’t do that.” You shook your head lightly, chin propping against his chest to look up at him. “I’ll leave and come back, and you can still do it. I can pretend to be surprised.”

Eddie’s lips curled, pulling back to look down at you. “You’re gonna pretend?” He tilted his head.

“My turn to act.” You teased, brow lifting gently. “Give you some competition.” You poked his tummy playfully.

Eddie grinned, pulling you back into him, lips sliding over yours in a soft kiss you savored. Melting into each other, fusing into a gooey puddle- it was corny, a cliche. One you’d roll your eyes at if it was anyone else.

“Happy birthday.” Eddie muttered, lips brushing and tickling your own.

“Thank you.” You whispered back, hands finding the base of his neck, pushing him back into you. Eddie’s hand fell against the wooden door frame, steadying himself in a rapidly heating makeout.

“Uh,” Dustin’s voice interrupted the two of you, just as Eddie’s hands were sliding under your work blouse. “Yeah, I-I finished with the streamers.”

Eddie glared at him, jaw ticking in annoyance when you pulled away. “I’m just going to grab my makeup bag, and I’ll go.” You whispered, cheeks flooding with heat.

Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes at Dustin when you left. “What? What did I do?” Dustin threw his hands out.

“Such a fuckin’ cock block, Henderson.” Eddie muttered, stomping into the kitchen. “Put the plates and shit out, will ya?”

Your performance was Oscar worthy, Eddie decided later, when you stepped through the door of the now darkened trailer, gasping when the lights flickered on and everyone jumped out. You looked positively radiant, glowing with excitement at the small crowd of friends crammed into the doorway. Eddie kissed you, sloppier than he should have, especially in front of everyone, but he didn’t care. Overwhelmed with affection for you.

He couldn’t tell if you were still pretending when he brought out the cake, the room singing in a harmonious tone to you, candles lit and glowing in the dim light. Eddie didn’t miss the way your eyes sparkled, fingers pressed to your lips at the now iced cake. When your fingers curled under his chin, sharing a fork-full of cake with him, kissing him after so quickly it left his head spinning.

His birthday girl, it was your day. Eddie never thought he’d love a random day as much as he did. He had no idea how important that day would become when he’d first met you, how it would engrave itself in his mind forever.

He was glad it did. Looking at you, giggling with your friends on the couch, then again, the next night, singing with Heather at the crowded bar- Eddie’s chest heart swelled. Proud that he’d surprised you, hopeful that he’d get to for the rest of his life.

Next year, he’d do it right. Really pull off the party you deserved. He’d start saving now, planning too. He decided it that night, tucked between the sheets, your head still on his sweat soaked chest. He could still taste you on his tongue, lips numb from the time he’d spent between your legs. Lashes fluttering in sleep, curled into him, Eddie pulled you closer. He’d get it right next year, you deserved it.

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stevenssticks · 8 months

Text

based on a combo of these asks from earlier in my inbox<3 thinkin of this james!

he would be pining after you for years!! and no matter how many other girls he’s fucked it’s never good enough bc it’s not you. he’s head over heels for you and also so sexually frustrated every time he sees you walking around in a pair of leather pants or a cute little skirt he has to run to the bathroom to get himself (and his dick) to calm down.

one day, after a show, he’s really wound up. he’s all frustrated and angry and he doesn’t really know why, he just knows that all he can really hear is his blood pumping in his ears and his fingers are twitching, curling into fists and then splaying back out again. sweet, adorable you, notice him sitting on his amp, and of course you come over to ask him what’s wrong.

“i dunno, sweetheart, i’m just in a mood today, i guess.” he hangs his head.

“there anything i can do to help you?” james immediately softens, eyes glancing up into yours. even all worked up and sweaty he looks so good, so beautiful.

“i uh… not really.” yes. there is something you can do to help him. let him fuck your brains out. but you’re his best friend. and he can’t ruin that with you as much as he yearns to do so, as hard as it’s getting to resist.

“how bout you come back to where i’m staying after you get all sorted? go shower, come over. i’ll have drinks?” james smiles at you, standing up and nodding. stretching. looks like a plan is a plan.

***

james gets one knock at the door before youre swinging it open, embarrassingly excited about seeing james again. your crush on him will doom you for eternity with how much you love him.

“i’ve got beer! your favorite too.”

james smiles at you, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek in which you wrap your arms around him, hugging him close. james lets out a little grunt that immediately leaves his face on fire as he feels you press against his crotch. he hopes you didn’t hear that.

you drag him over to the couch of your hotel room, it being a nice spacious little place. you crack open a beer and hand it to him, then opening and taking a swig of yours. james surveys you. glancing up and down at you from your tiny, tiny top that shows off your tits so nicely. to the little shorts you’re wearing that barely conceal anything. ones you wouldn’t dare wear out of the house but are rather comfortable to lounge in.

and that’s when james realizes he doesn’t know if he’s gonna be able to control himself tonight. you looking like this, all relaxed from the alcohol. he’s embarrassingly hard in his pants, and he crosses his legs as to not draw attention to himself. you’re leaning on him, talking away about miscellaneous things, james nodding along but not really listening. instead thinking of what it would feel like to fuck your tits, play with you til you’re crying. make you pay for all the years he’s spent wasted on other girls when he could been with you.

he gets snapped out of his thoughts when you literally do snap in his face.“james! hellooo? woah, you really are out of it today.”

he can’t take it anymore, he abruptly gets up, blabbering out how he’s gotta get out of here, how he doesn’t wanna do anything he regrets, and then you’re grabbing him by the waist and turning him around before he can reach the doorknob.

“what is it that’s bothering you this much?” you look him up and down, and then you spot the hardon in his jeans. and yeah, now you know what’s been bothering him so much. james groans when he realizes you realized, and covers his face with his hands.

“can i please just lea-“

“you want me to help you with that?” okay. woah. james is paralyzed, mouth moving but no sounds coming out, until you make a move for him, taking your hand and pushing on his hard on, rubbing in slow circles and james’ brain immediately blanks. and then he’s leaning down and kissing you. it’s sloppy, wet, and with too much teeth and tongue but james couldn’t give a fuck. he’s got you. he grabs onto your waist, hoisting you up and dragging you over to the bed, sheets still unmade from when you left in the early morning. james keeps kissing you, fucking your mouth with his tongue and groaning into you.

he only lets up when you push him away for air. whimpering out a little “please, james…” and then he’s kissing and sucking on your neck, tearing your clothes off and not even bothering to unbutton his shirt, just ripping it and hearing buttons go flying.

“you know how fucking crazy you make me” you whine as james cups a hand over your pussy, covered only by thin lacy underwear now. “gonna make you pay for all those nights i haven’t been able to touch you. lay back.” you do exactly as you ask, and james acts on those sinister thoughts from earlier, removing his underwear and straddling your stomach, feeling up your bare breasts. he opens his mouth, sticking out his tongue and letting spit dribble down to the valley between your tits, getting you all wet for him there. he grabs your breasts in his big hands, pushing them together and then he slides his cock in between the little space left, groaning as he starts to fuck your tits.

“holy fuck, you’re such a dream.. look at you. have barely touched you and you’re already gone. stick your tongue out.” you do as you’re told of course. and james slides his cock all the way up until the tip pushes on your tongue on the upstroke. you swirling around the pink tip every time you get a chance. james keeps moaning, saying the filthiest fucking things to you. his thrusts get sloppy.

“fuck, ‘m gonna cum. keep your mouth open. gonna empty myself in between those pretty lips of yours.” james lets go of your tits to shuffle further up your body, jerking himself off quick and tight, before coming with a groan into your waiting mouth. you stay still, letting him do what he wants with you, pushing the droplets of cum that missed back into your mouth.

you’re mewling for stimulation. and james of course will give you anything that you ask. he shuffles down your body, face right in front of your pussy and blowing air on it. making you kick your legs out and squirm. he grabs your thighs to make you stay still, and then licks a stripe up your cunt. your squeal, closing your legs around his head now that he’s let go of him, which he lets you do enthusiastically. you grab at his hair and hump his face, whining and moaning and then screaming when james pushes two fingers into you at the same time he sucks your clit into his mouth.

you’re gonna cum so quick. james can feel it. he won’t let it happen. your moans get more high pitched, and when you start to pulse around him he pulls his fingers out quick. making your legs kick out again and slam down on the bed. crying at being denied. “james..! please!”

“not yet. told you i was gonna make you pay.” james is already hard again. he pushes his fingers back into you and immediately goes back to fucking you relentlessly with them. repeating the cycle of pulling away over and over again.

“tell me you’re sorry for making me wait.”

“fuck james.. ‘m sorry. didn’t know you liked me like that. wanted this f-for so long.. so sorry. wanted you so bad, i’m sssorry!”

“i’m not convinced.” james taunts. pulling out again. tears fall from your eyes. hands gripping the sheets of the bed hard, and you vaguely remember you’re in a hotel room and you’ve got neighbors, but the thought leaves your mind as quick as it came.

“please jamie… wanted it for so long i’m so sorry. i’m sorry. please… fuck me. want your cock so bad. wanna cum. i need you. i’m so ffucking s-sorry!” you’re full on sobbing, mascara running, hand thrown over your eyes as james’ fingers slow again inside you.

you get ready to be denied again, but instead immediately after you feel james’ fingers leave you, you feel something bigger in its place pushing at your entrance. james comes up to lean over you, resting on his forearms above you. pushing in without a word of warning and you wail again.

“ffuck… this pussy is so fucking tight.. oh god. gonna make me cum so quick. you want that? want me to fill you up?” you nod frantically when you realize he’s finally gonna let you get yours after being denied time and time again. bringing your legs up to wrap around his waist as he starts to nudge impossibly deep into you.

“shit.. yeah you do. first i want you to cream all over my cock. think you can do that for me? can feel you squeezing me. so close, aren’t you?”

you are. you really are. james leans down and gives you marks all up your neck, licking and sucking. grinding hard into you, hips pressed against each other. you bring a hand down to rub your clit, and it only takes a few tight circles before you’re gone. your other hand wraps up around his neck, pulling him down so he’s pressing you into the mattress.

“fuck.. there it is baby. that’s it.. f-feels so good. oh..” james keeps thrusting into you, faster, harder, fucking you through your orgasm so he can get his. he pushes your head to the side so he can kiss you, moaning into your mouth as you feel him spill into you with a groan before pulling away from your lips. “auh.. fuck! oh shit…” james leans back on his knees, hips still making tiny jolts in you. he pulls out almost all the way, leaving just the tip in and reaching down to jerk his cock, pushing out the last of his orgasm.

when he pulls out he groans at the sight of you leaking with his cum, reaching down to push it back into you. you whine, grabbing a pillow and holding it to your face. you’re exhausted, thoroughly worn out, but he doesn’t wanna let this be done yet. he’s already twitching again. you’re gonna be in for a rough night.

——

can y’all tell i’m ovulating.

#asks and replies #p’s thots(^ ^*)#metallica #james hetfield #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fanfiction #metallica smut #metallica fanfiction #kirk hammett #cliff burton #lars ulrich #jason newsted

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13as07 · 2 months

Text

Patience #3.5

(Jiraiya Smut)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to Ibuo]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 6,231

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Part 3 from Jiraiya's POV

Sorry it’s so long but not really cause I love writing his prospective

Nicknames/Name Calling: Little One, Sensei, Sweet Girl, Princess, Sweetheart, Obedient Girl, Sir, Sex Addict

Exhibitionism (public sex)

Age Gap/Power Indifference (teacher/student)

Creampie

Spanking

Little rougher domination

Improper use of a hairbrush (Yes, in that way. Still not sorry)

———————————————————————

The whimpers my kunoichi spills out only make the next few days seem even more looming. It's been driving me crazy, knowing I can't treat her like I have been. No random quickies everywhere all the time, no cuddling up in public or drowning her in affection. We're back home now, I have to be at least somewhat professional.

Plus, there's the small hovering doom of talking to Tsunade. I can only imagine the lecture and string of profanity she'll use once I tell her I did - and have been - sleeping with my student. Not to mention the black eye I'm sure I'll get since my old squad mate has a habit of responding with her fists before her words.

Once she does calm down, Tsunade will probably tell me I'm playing with fire, that I'm ruining my kunoichi's future, that I'm injuring my reputation, that I've managed to reach a whole new level of perverted. But it's so worth it.

If I have to I'll give up the shinobi life, I'll retire, I'll focus on writing my books, and my kunoichi can continue living her life like the badass little ninja she is. Or we can both quit and buy a nice little cottage on the outskirts of town with a private hot spring.

My mouth clicks shut, cutting off my Princess's praises long enough to get my thoughts straight before I start them up again. That's a long-term idea. A long-term idea that has no room in our blooming relationship. I haven't even taken the girl on a proper date and I'm already planning my retirement with her. We've been doing stuff so backward it has my thoughts in knots.

"Little One?" I call, dipping my head down long enough to get the words out. I tip my head back up, taking in the sight of my student. She looks so hot, back arched with her pants around her knees as I have her pressed up against the tree. Her hands seem small under mine, another reminder of our size difference. I think my Princess is making me form a size kink.

"Sensei?" She whispers back, glancing at me for a millisecond before they're back in place. My Sweet Girl is focused on the entrance of our home village, the closeness both exciting and terrifying her. It's cute, seeing my student wrestle with herself over how wrong but good the situation feels.

I press kisses behind her ear, matching them to the thrusts I make into her pussy. Every bottom-out I do gets rewarded with a gentle kiss, pulling more pretty noises from my Sweetheart. "We..." I start, my climax coming quicker than I want it to.

I'm worn out already today, courtesy of me stopping and pushing my Sweet Girl against a tree every thirty minutes or so. I keep trying to convince myself it's to get it out of her system, but I'm pretty sure we both know it's to get it out of mine. "We can't..." I try again, stopping when my dick twitches.

My Little One bucks her hips backward, pushing me over the edge way before I'd like. I want to enjoy our last bout of freedom, I want to stay in this moment until I have her skin memories and damn it, I want to last longer than two minutes. "We can't what?" She whispers as if the trees outside the village will voice our sins.

"We can't..." I try again, shoving myself back into my pretty Sweetheart, soaking in the feeling of her wrapped around me, the feeling of her pussy leaking down my balls, the feeling of her, as I fill her cunt again today. Marking my territory in my new favorite way. "Be all over each other," I finally manage to get out, my mind a bit clearer now that I've finished.

"Why not?" My Sweetheart whimpers as I pull out of her.

My Sweet Girl looks beautiful like this. Her legs are spread wide, giving me the best possible view of her pussy. It's pinker than normal, from my overuse of it today. She's gapping, desperately clenching from the new emptiness as I spill out of her, coating her gorgeous thighs in the thick white of my cum. I swear I could spend a whole chapter explaining this view alone, maybe I will.

"It's unprofessional, Sweet Girl," I softly explain, giving into my want and bending forward to scoop myself off her skin. She looks nice coated in my semen but it looks so much better in her. "Besides, I need to talk to Tsunade about... this," I add, thrusting my fingers into her. My Sweetheart might look gorgeous gapping for me but it doesn't mean I like leaving her needy.

She whines as my fingertips toy with her, disappointment in her face. At least this time I know it's from my words and not my seeming inability to keep up with her sex drive. "You're fine, Sweet Girl," I mutter, kissing her shoulder in a failed attempt to muffle my laughter. I love the mess of whines and whimpers my student becomes when she doesn't get her way, and almost every time I can't help but laugh with joy at the sight.

The moment doesn’t last though, the weight of today setting in. God, I'm too attached, way too quickly. The thought of my Little One sleeping alone in her apartment makes my chest ache. She should be sleeping with me, in my house, in my bed. I should be able to roll over and hold her in the middle of the night like I've done for the past few weeks.

The thought is upsetting, it makes me anxious. My hands jump forward to cover her up again. I don't need someone to see my student with her pants down, literally. My attention quickly shifts to repeatedly squeezing her hips to counteract the anxiety weighing on me. My anxiety only seems to grow as I heard her towards the village entrance.

When that doesn't help my anxiety either, I change pace to feeling her skin against mine again. My hands grasp at her, my lips just as hopeless as I brush new kisses into her neck, desperate to press the feeling of her skin into my mind.

"Sensei?" She giggles, starting to silence my anxiety. "You're pretty all over me for it being 'unprofessional'."

"Hush Princess," I whisper, shifting my attention away from her. I scan the entrance, my fingertips dancing over her skin, helping more of my anxiety seep away.

I hate the thought of being away from her. What if something happens and I'm not there to help? When we're on a mission we spend twenty-four-seven together. That's not going to happen now that we're home.

My head dips down, placing another marking on her skin in our last few seconds of true alone time. I cup her pussy too, tapping my fingers against my Sweetheart before I tug away. My temporary goodbye to our very active sex life.

I feel like a schoolboy once again. The anxious attachment young boys experience with their first girlfriends. So distressed, so upset at the thought of being apart from my Sweet Girl. Maybe some time apart won't be too bad, as long as she's safe.

The thought of this being a healthy space makes me feel better and makes it easier to let go of my grasp on her and pull away.

"Sensei? Are you going to ignore me again?" My student asks, distraught covering her face as I pull away. My Sweetheart doesn't like me pulling away, which is evident from her wrapping around my arm. She looks small, wrapped around me like this. She looks even smaller when she squirms from my fingertips brushing over her pussy. I'm definitely developing a size kink.

The distraught she's feeling quickly gets replaced. My kunoichi's mischievous glint fills her eyes as a pout forms on her face, promising a bratty tantrum to follow. "What if I get needy? Then who am I supposed to do?"

I take it back, I don't feel like a schoolboy. I feel pissed off like I'm ready to throw down with any man that dears to glance at her. It's the same anger I had at dinner with Riku, jealousy that I can’t seem to control.

Before I can stop myself, I tug my arm away from her, jumping forward to grip her face. This is another new thing between us. Since my Princess doesn't like my hand around her throat, I've started gripping her face to keep her attention on me.

I snap her head upward, forcing her eye contact with me as I glare down at her. "Don't you dare," I husk out, soaking in the way my Sweetheart's eyes soften. They're round and glazed over, tempting me to break my temporary hardness. "Go ahead, try your little act. See how far that gets you," I continue before dipping my head down, making sure the next sentence stays between the two of us instead of the villagers eavesdropping on the street. "See how empty everyone else makes you feel compared to your Sensei."

My Little One's hands snack up my arm, her fingers clinging to my wrist as her breath picks up. I enjoy the view, the way she seems so eager for me as I pull away from her face. It's cute, her eyes, how easily I got her roaring again, how she tries to pull my hold off her even though she knows it is useless.

"I'm just kidding, Sensei," she whimpers, a whine bubbling in her throat. My student flutters her eyes down, focusing on my fingers clinging to her cheeks.

That only pisses me off more, making me shift her head again. "Joke like that again and I'll beat your ass back into obedience, you understand me?" I mutter, watching for her reaction.

My Sweetheart's thighs rub together, only encouraging my roughness. Her eyes are drowning in lust, tongue almost hanging out of her mouth in a pant. "Yes, Sensei," My Princess says softly, quickly making my dick hard again. I need to talk to Tsunade.

"That's my Sweetheart. Be an Obedient Girl," I praise, debating on kissing her or not as a reward. There are a lot of people out and about though, and I really should bring Tsunade into the loop before I'm public about my relationship, or lack thereof. I need to take my kunoichi on a date.

"Yes, Sensei," she repeats, satisfying me. I rub her cheeks for a second before letting her go.

Date ideas swirl around my head as I continue walking. I shouldn't take her out to eat, we already do that all the time, so it wouldn't be any different. Well, if I take her somewhere fancy but I should probably put a little more effort into it.

My Sweet Girl's hands collide with my back, balling up my shirt once I'm in her grasp. "Sensei, where are we going?" Her sweet voice rings out, silencing my thoughts for a second.

"We have to report to Tsunade, Little One," I answer, slowly my paces so the chance of her tripping goes down.

Her fingers tap against my back, tapping out some melody as she trails after me. "That's boring. Are you going to talk to her while we're there? About us?" She asks, making my anxiety claw back into my chest.

"No," I answer quickly, my prediction of Tsunade reaction rolling around my head. I don't need my student seeing Tsunade hand me my ass.

My Little One clings to my shirt, the material balled in her hands again. "Why not?" She's upset, actually upset and not her whiney 'I'm needy, fuck me' upset. It makes my heart ache. I don't want to disappoint my Sweetheart.

"You don't need to be present during that conversation, Sweet Girl," I answer a laugh following my words. I can only imagine her face while I'm getting my shit rocked. "Don't worry your pretty little mind, I'll talk to her soon, have some patience," I coo, trying to ease over her emotions.

"Promise?" My Little One asks, her voice softly as she clings to my shirt harder.

"Promise."

————————————

My heart seems loud in my ears as I search the hallways for my student. Today's anxiety is a mixture of the speech I've been practicing to confess my situation to Tsunade and because I can't find my Sweetheart.

I left her for ten minutes, only ten minutes, long enough to talk to the Head Anbu. Long enough to fill him in on the new information on the Akatsuki. Ten minutes and she's gone. On the plus note, she can't be in too much trouble. After all the Hokage palace is the most secure place in the village. My Little One can't be getting into much mischief... I think.

I roll over my speech, rehearsing it again so that when I finally talk to Tsunade I have it down. Tsunade who already seems suspicious. Tsunade who seems to have noticed every whine, whimper, and grasp my kunoichi has tried in the past week. Tsunade who asked why my student spends so much time at my house.

Tsunade who I've avoided talking to because she's terrifying. I know I've been putting off our conversation. I know it's disappointing my Sweetheart. I know my Sweet Girl is getting upset from the lack of me, from the lack of sex, the lack of my time and attention, and from the lack of us having a proper relationship. From me sucking at relationships and putting off asking her on a proper date. I need to stop putting stuff off.

"Oh my God. You thought... oh my," my Princess's voice rings out, distress evident in her voice.

My body jerks, panic washing over me at the sound. My pace picks up, scanning the hallways and rooms for her. What situation could she possibly be in? Why couldn’t she just obey me and stay put?

"No!" Someone barks, making me stress even more. "Well not at first but when you said you were training under Jiraiya I just... I wanted to be sure you weren't..." The voice continues, making it easier to figure out where the possible threat to my kunoichi is.

I scurry forward, turning down the hallway I'm pretty sure the voices are coming from. I was right, which is good, but so bad.

Genma, one of Tsunade's guards, is hovering over my kunoichi. My Little One that has her hand down his pants. My Sweet Girl who told me when we got home that if I ignored her, she'd find her wants somewhere else. My student who's looking up at Genma with those big beautiful 'fuck me' eyes that should be looking up at me. My Sweetheart that's enveloped in Genma's frame that doesn't make her seem as small as she seems under me. My Princess and Genma who are making my blood boil.

"I'm not a pervert," Genma continues, pissing me off even more. How can he say that? He has her caged, has her stuck under him, has someone young enough to be his student pressed up against the wall as he humps my Sweetheart like some street mutt.

I know it's hypocritical of me. I've spent the past month sleeping with my Little One, I'm older than both of them, I am known for being a pervert. But she's my student, my kunoichi, my Sweetheart, which means I have dibs. Dibs that I fully use, constantly.

"Could convince me otherwise," I huff, my voice coming out louder than I meant. I can feel my anger seeping off of me, I can feel the heat of it on my face and crawling across my chest.

Despite that, my Little One doesn't seem to notice. "Hi, Sensei!" She calls, shifting out from under Genma's arms, her hand still buried down his pants, which only pisses me off more. "How was your meeting?" She continues, her soft sweetness soaking through the heavy situation.

That upsets me even more. My Sweet Girl is so happy to have my attention, so happy to see me, all because of my lack of affection towards her. I storm down the hallway, Genma getting paler the closer I get and my student getting happier.

Genma jerks away from my student, bowing once I get closer. "Jiraya, Sannin, sir," he shrieks towards the ground. He's as nervous as I'm pissed. It's would funny if I didn't have the image of my kunoichi clinging to him burned into my head.

"Genma," I call back, focus set on my bubbly student. She's all smiles with her usual mischievousness in her eyes. She's happy I caught her. It almost hurts, knowing even though I'm angry my Sweetheart is joyful to have my attention. "My student is too young for you." That's a lie, Genma is a more fitting age gap than her and me, but I'm choosing to ignore that.

"She's only... ten years younger... sir." The sentence snaps my anger back into place, completely counteracting the soothing my student unknowingly started.

My Princess shifts, mirroring me as she shows off her smile. "That's not so bad, Sensei. After all, you're thirty years older than me," she points out, as cocky as ever.

I crouch down, locking eyes with her before I start speaking. "Ya, well, I don't have you pinned to the Hokage Palace wall, rubbing my boner against you."

Somehow her smile grows even more. Her curved mouth opens, a promise to throw a comment about us into the open. I jerk forward, wrapping my hand around my Sweetheart's mouth to cut her off. "You're being a disgraceful shinobi," I hiss out, deepening my glare.

Genma moves, pulling himself out of his bow. "Sannin, sir?"

"Get out of my presence," I hiss, burning my student's cocky face into my mind. She looks cute and inspirational. Maybe I'll put this scene in my new book too.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," Genma mumbles before darting away, leaving me alone with my cocky attention hungry student.

My Sweetheart jerks away from me, mouth running as soon as she's free from my grasp. "You know good and well you'd be thrilled to be humping me against the wall too. Or maybe not, since you seem to not be into me anymore."

She's right, about the first part. I'd give anything for a few uninterrupted minutes with her. My skin burns from not being able to feel hers, my fingers are impatient with the yearning to feel her hair running through them, and my balls are so heavy it feels like I'll nut just from her stare.

The second half of my Little One's rant isn't correct, nowhere near it. It ticks my anger even more. Can't she tell how much I want her? Can't my Sweetheart see how desperate I am for every part of her? Hasn't she noticed how much I crave her touch? Her voice? Her eyes? Her laugh? Why can't my pretty kunoichi see how addicted I am to her? How much I adore her sass, her attitude, her personality, her very being?

"Little One," I grumble, terribly failing at hiding my anger that I know truly isn't her fault. I'm upset at the situation I put us in, at the fact I keep putting off talking to Tsunade. "If I had it my way, we'd be locked up in my house for the next week doing nothing but practicing scenarios for my new book," I confess my little fantasy to her as my hand cups her cheeks again. I cling to her face, soaking up the softness of her skin rubbing against mine.

I have thought about it a lot, reenacting scenes from my past books, and recreating situations with her so I can take them in better to be able to describe them perfectly in my next novel. I've been rolling over the plot of my next story, thinking of mirroring it to ours.

My Sweetheart will make a fantastic read, an amazing heroine. I can't help the fact that my recent writings have curved around her, that I'm set on giving her to the inked paper, all to share my small piece of heaven with others that occupy the living realm. It would be sinful not to share her with the world.

"But," I continue, shifting closer to her with the hopes it'll stop my wandering mind. "We have a very important job for our village. I cannot drop everything every time your pussy aches for attention. Stop acting like a spoiled Princess." The words seem harsh, even as I say them, but she pays no attention to them.

My Little One goes straight into her tantrum, further proving to me how little of my longing I share with her. "You haven't paid any attention to me, Jiraya! You said you'd talk to Tsunade but you haven't. It's all your fault we're not having sex, much less anything else. I can live awhile without you in me but you won't give me any undivided attention."

"Oh ya? Is that your issue Sweet Girl?" I mock, my ego completely rubbed from her whines. "Is that why you're acting out? You miss me? You miss my attention? My dick, you sex addict? You miss my little kisses and touches? You miss our dinners alone?"

My Sweetheart wraps herself around my arm again, her fingers clinging to me as those big dewy eyes of hers look up at me. It's tempting, to give away to my jealousy, ball her up under me, fuck her against the wall like Genma so desperately wanted to.

But I can't. She needs to learn there is a time and place. The Hokage palace is neither the right time nor place.

Her fingers dig into me, clinging to my wrist. "Yes," My Sweet Girl whimpers, as pouty as ever. "Like me back, Jiraiya. Pay attention to me. Like me back," the repeated sentence comes out soft, almost a cry as the words tumble from her lips.

Her last sentence rings in my ears, making me feel better about whatever this is. This isn't some fling for my student, it's something she wants. Something she craves just as much as me. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I know I've been busy. I'll make it up to you, I promise," I voice, loosening my fingers.

I tip my head, brushing long-awaited kisses across her face. My Princess feels nice against me, only encouraging my addiction even more.

Despite the attention, she's still huffy. "Sure you will."

"I will," I reiterate, shifting my head closer to her ear. "Because I like you back," I whisper, brushing more kisses across her. "We'll go out tomorrow, okay? A nice dinner all alone, and I'll give you all the attention you want. Just be patient, Sweet Girl." I know it's unfair of me, I know she has been patient, I know. But, events of the day are already in motion and I can't put them off. Not unless I want Tsunade on me.

My kunoichi clings to me tighter, trying to tug my hold off as she whines. "You said that earlier this week. I have been patient. We're not going to get to eat alone, we never do. Hurry up and talk to Tsunade." She gets to be a pouty mess because she's right. We can't go anywhere - much less sit down to eat - without bumping into someone who wants or needs something from me. The life of a famed shinobi and a high-selling author.

"I will. Today. I promise," I mutter, the anxiety of talking to Tsunade already sliding up my spine. I shift my gaze, soaking in the color of her eyes again to help calm myself. "But, tonight I'm going to beat your ass red since you want to be such an unobedient girl," I continue, scanning for her reaction.

From the way my Princess has been reacting recently, she likes it when I'm a little more rugged on occasion. This time isn't any different. Lust pools her eyes as her legs rub together, a tell-all sign that I've turned her on. "Why?" She peeps out, her fake innocence covering her face as she looks up at me.

I can't help but laugh at her little act, at how see-through we both know it is. I dip back down, barely letting our lips touch as I talk. "Why? Because, Little One, you went and acted like you're on the market for anyone to have. You are mine. My student, my kunoichi, mine, and apparently filling up your tight little cunt and marking you up isn't enough proof for you."

My words turn me on just as much as I'm sure they make my Princess brew. Just the thought of my cum dripping out of her pussy is enough to make my dick ache. "You are mine," I say again, watching the way her eyes light up. "Repeat it," I order, desperate to hear her agree. Desperate to know for certain that my Sweetheart does want to be mine.

"I am yours."

I am not a religious man, but I swear to whatever God I can find in the time I have left, I will thank them every day for getting to hear those three little words.

My eyes shoot down, quickly followed by my hand, as I watch my Sweetheart attempt to stimulate herself. She doesn't get to do that, she doesn't get to get off after she's spent the past few minutes teasing me, tempting me.

I grip her inner thigh, tugging her legs apart as I start my next order. "I have to run an errand for Tsunade. You, Sweetheart, are going to go home, strip, and sit on my bed with your head in my pillows and your ass in the air." The thought of my Obedient Girl actually obeying me strains my pants even more.

"You are going to wait, and wait, and wait until I am done. If you even dare to touch yourself, I will overstimulate you until you feel like you can't breathe, am I understood?" It's harsh, like I was before, but I intend to stay true to my words. If my Little One wants to prance around with Genma, she doesn't get to cum on her own. She gets to be reminded of how well I know her body, how easy it is for me to satisfy her, and how quickly I can become too much for her.

"Yes, Sensei," she mumbles, still trying to rub her thighs together. The plushness of her fills my hand, her tissue soaking through my fingers, turning me on even more. I swear this errand and my conversation with Tsunade is going to feel like an eternity.

I litter her lips in soft quick kisses, digging in my pocket for my keys. "There's my Obedient Girl. Use those patience I've taught you," I murmur, giving her my keys as I soak in the feeling of her mouth against mine.

"Yes, Sensei," She repeats a bit louder this time, making the fit Tsunade would throw if I pushed off her errand seem worth it. It's not, I have work to do, I can wait. I can wait. I can wait.

"Sweet Girl," I praise, tilting my head as the words spill out. I deepen our kiss, keeping us connected longer this time. I can't wait. "Go home and wait," I order, pulling away from her beautiful face. I can't walk away, and if she doesn't, I'm going to get one hell of a beating from Tsunade.

My Princess does as she's ordered, playing with my keys as she walks away from me. I stay put, watching the way her hips sway as she walks away. I swear this girl is going to be the death of me.

————————————

The closer to home I get, the more my anxiety seeps out of me. I did it, I told Tsunade about my student and me. She didn’t attack me, she didn’t even yell. All she did was sit there and glare, which somehow was worse than anything else. It means that tomorrow she’s going to have one hell of a reaction. Oh well, that’s tomorrow’s issue.

My balls ache when my front door falls into view. My Sweetheart is waiting for me in there, my Sweetheart that’s about to get her pussy destroyed and her cunt filled. It’s been too long since I’ve left my load in her.

My actions are quick, anticipation fills my balls more than my semen does. It’s a blur, getting into the house and making my way to my bedroom. “Little One?” I call, swinging my bedroom door open.

A groan brews in my throat at the sight of her. She’s laid exactly how I asked her, her head buried in my pillows and her butt in the air. My Princess’s pussy is on display, her wetness glistening and walls clenching for me. “There’s my Obedient Girl,” I coo, walking across the room.

“Welcome home, Sensei. How was your errand?” She asks, knuckles white from clinging to the pillowcase. God damn, I want to shove my dick into her dripping cunt, I want to fuck her until tears coat her face, I want to fill her pussy so much that I’m leaking out of her all through tomorrow.

“It was fine,” I finally answer, eyes still locked on her pulsing cunt. “How has my bedroom been?” I ask, settling on the bed. I run my fingers through her folds, enjoying the warmth and her juices oozing from her.

“Good,” she whimpers, pussy clenching even more from my small touch.

I shift my focus, messing with her hole to see it gap even more for me. I’m a jerk about it, barely pushing my fingertips into her. My focus stays on this spot of her, ways to describe her core running through my head.

After a beat, I tug my fingers further up, focusing my teasing on her clit. “You've been very bratty, Sweetheart. I'm worried my spoiling of you is making you rotten, Princess,” I confess to her despite not actually being that worried about it. I like how bratty she is and how needy she can be. It’s nice having a partner that can keep up with my urges.

My Little One bucks backward, her pussy unsatisfied and upset with my teasing. “I’m not,” she whimpers, his desperately trying to get me to finger her pussy.

“Hush, Little One,” I mutter, smacking her pussy before completely pulling my touch away. I pay attention to how she reacts, partly for her good and partly to describe this scene in my next book. I’ve finally settled on a plot, and beating her ass is going to be the opening chapter. This is going to be the first chapter, her pussy dripping for me and aching even more from the small slap I gave it.

I stand up, off to go find something to spank her with. I could use my hands and watch the way her butt easily fits in my grasp, but if written that scene a hundred times. I need something new, something exciting for my readers.

I settle in front of my desk, shifting stuff around in search of something to use. “Sensei?” My Sweetheart calls, dividing my attention for a second. “What are you doing?” She asks as my eyes settle on my hairbrush. That could work, it could work very well actually.

“I told you, Sweetheart,” I start, heading back towards her. My student has shifted her position, head tucked down to watch me under her pressed-together knees. “I'm going to beat your ass red.”

My eyes jump between her pussy and her face, enjoying the sight of her like this. When my knees collide with the bed, I’m back to action instead of just admiring her. My hand settles in her hair, clinging to her locks as I fix her position. I know I won’t be able to beat her ass if she’s looking at me like that. “Stay like that, Sweet Girl. I don’t need the neighbors hearing you.”

I release her hair, my sights set on the arch of her back. I love how pretty my Princess’s back looks when she’s bent like this. My fingers tumble down, sliding over the bumps and valleys of her spine. I change my mind, I could spend a chapter describing the curves of her back instead of the sight of her pussy.

When I run out of valleys on her back, my attention shifts to her butt. My touches are gentle and soft, toying with her skin to prep it for the spankings it’s going to receive. Once I’m satisfied with my cooing, I focus back on the reasoning for her position. I pull the brush backward before letting it swing down, smacking the plastic of it into her behind.

“Sensei!” My kunoichi squeals, jumping forward from the blooming pain.

My eyes skirt over the blooming pink of her behind, the outline of the brush head stamped into her cheek. “Oh, you’re fine spoiled Princess,” I mutter, scanning her body language, making sure she’s not uncomfortable and that the smack wasn’t too hard. I grip her waist, tugging her back into position.

I go back to calming her skin, toying with the pink skin as I watch the way her pussy clenches from the touch, making sure I’ll be able to describe it perfectly in my rough draft tonight. When I’m satisfied with a description, I turn back to spanking her.

I coat her behind in more spankings, switching between her cheeks as I coat them with pink ovals. It’s intoxicating, the sound of the hard plastic colliding with my student’s skin, the sound of her whines and whimpers, the sight of her pussy clenching.

Her juices drip from her cunt, starting to cost her thighs. “Aw, look at that. You like this, don’t you, Sweetheart?” I tease, landing another smack as the fingers not wrapped around the brush dips into her. “Your pussy is all wet from your spankings,” I continue the mockery, sliding my touch through her pussy. “Let me take care of you, Little One,” I hum out, satisfied with the rest run, though we might have to try again if I struggle with my writing process.

I bend down, sliding my lips over her sore skin as I toy with her, ideas of how to spice up the story tumbling around my head. My eyes flicked to the abandoned brush, an idea forming in my head. I’ve heard stories of women getting off with their hairbrushes, I wonder what that would look like, how my pretty Princess would react.

“Sensei?” My Sweet Girl whines, the sound going straight to my dick. She thrusts backward again, only encouraging the growing boner in my pants.

My fingers wrap around the brush again, tugging it up before I line it to her cunt. “Princess?”

I tip the end of the handle into my Sweetheart, getting her to jump forward in response. “What are you doing?!” She yelps, head snapping down between her legs again.

My student is beautiful, with eyes that enchant me every time I see them. God, I’m addicted to this girl. “You need to learn to listen, Little One,” I start, lining the hairbrush against her again. I tip it back into her, moving slowly just in case. I don’t think it will hurt, but it’s a different plastic than a dildo so I’m still going to be careful. “I told you I wanted to practice scenarios for my new book.”

Her pussy shifts open as I press the plastic further into her. My Sweet Girl’s walls clench around it, trying to sink it further into herself. It doesn’t work though, making me a bit smug. “You’re a pervert,” she mumbles, hips rocking in need.

I give her what she wants, slowly thrusting the brush in and out of her. “I’m not a pervert. I can’t write a scene I haven’t acted out, and you, my Sweet Girl, made it very clear you don’t want me doing my research on other women. So, that leaves you.” It’s an honest observation, even from before we were screwing. It’s gotten worse since we started sleeping together, my kunoichi’s jealousy being just as bad as mine.

My eyes drop at the same time my hand does. I snake it between her legs, quick to find her neglected clit. It doesn’t take long for my Little One to come undone. “Sensei,” she whines, her pussy clinging to the brush as she coats it with her cum.

“Princess,” I call back, dipping my head down. I go straight to licking up her mess, enjoying my fix of her as I occasionally brush a kiss or two against her thighs. “This will make a wonderful chapter for my book,” I mutter, thrusting the handle of the brush into her again. I need to make her orgasm with it once more, just to be sure I can describe the situation perfectly. What an obedient student I have, one that’s perfect for my research.

———————————————————————

#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #naruto shippuden smut #jiraiya #jiraiya oneshot #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya smut

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weaselle · 2 months

Text

actually after adding this story to another post i got so mad i'm making it a separate post

when i was a kid in a musical production of Peter Pan I got a largish role which was awesome, but i was already self conscious about my voice and during rehearsals for one of the songs the director came up onto the stage squinting like he had a mouth full of lemon juice and stalked up and down in front of us until finally he zeroed in on me and had us all stop singing and then had just me alone sing a couple lines and nodded and said "yeah, you don't sing anymore, just mouth the words silently" and then told the kids on either side of me to sing a little louder to cover it...

and no amount of knowing logically that he was wrong for doing that has helped me overcome my fear of singing in front of people after that

and there have been some other times people (looking at you, mother) have said things to similar effect

the real hell of it is, i'm like... i have a lot of songs in me. i'm constantly writing original songs that i'm too afraid to sing for anyone

here are a few. they each have a specific melody.. I wish you could hear them

i don't feel like complainin' 'bout my life today and i ain't got a lot to brag about so i'm just usin' this music to keep movin' and i don't mind if i'm a part of your show so look at life all over and it can be rough if gettin' is your goal you won't get enough but i got me and i'm free an' warm spinnin' and grinnin' in the eye of the storm

i don't need to be winnin' while i'm gamin' and i don't feel like a losin' man no winnin' or losin' i guess that leaves playin' and i don't mind if i'm a part of your band

they say this race of rats is crazy it's dog eat dog they need a sheep to be a workhorse and go whole hog well i'm no genius most of the time but at least i can be nobody's fool but mine

at least i can be! nobody's fool but mine

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I don’t care … I don’t care if this minute is our last you can bet I’ll be living it before I let it past

(repeat)

Plan in command like a band with a marching tune, dooming our duo when you go embarking soon, damn I’m just glad that we had this hot interlude, hoping we’ll pause and not stop ‘cause I’m into you! checking the phone when alone for the text – that gives me this feeling I’m reeling I’m blessed – the sex is appealing for real but the rest of the sum of your parts makes my heart beat its chest

I don’t care … I don’t care if this minute is our last you can bet I’ll be loving it before I let it past

(repeat)

a decade ago we met lost and were friends christened our roads and then crossed them again we played and we dated like it ain’t a thing but lately our hook-up is more than a fling the two of us truly unduly effected - direction of goals that we hold gonna wreck it but check it I’m with it I’m livin’ it reckless to be where you’re breathin’ is leavin’ me breathless

I don’t care … I don’t care if this minute is our last you can bet I’ll be loving you before I let it past

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

I went to bed lonely, found waking I’d only held dreams of you… In Dreamland I dwelt, but those feelings I felt still seem so true… I dreamt you still wanted me, that’s what’s still haunting me deep in my heart… though awake I believe in the many good reasons we’re keeping apart…

I cry diamonds! I weep songs of may never be I cry gemstones! each one a good memory each action taken, all of the fine bad and more I’d never trade them, these tears are my dragon’s hoard

I’m happy to see you, I knew that would be true our love never could end… I would swear an oath, this is best for us both and you’re still my good friend… but some nights my soul just doesn’t feel whole when I’m not by your side… so I add to and hold, all the jewels and the gold that I’ve already cried…

I cry diamonds! I weep songs of may never be I cry gemstones! each one a good memory each action taken, all of the fine bad and more I’d never trade them, these tears are my dragon’s hoard

So I’ll seek out adventure, eventually enter a time. when. I… leave this treasure heap, spread my wings and leap into the sky… I’ve dreams I believe in but please know that even when I. reach. them… I’ll visit these memories, loving and tenderly holding each gem..

I cry diamonds! I weep songs of may never be I cry gemstones! each one a good memory each action taken, all of the fine bad and more I’d never trade them…

these tears are my dragon’s hoard

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

i wanna go off… i’ll go on the run- i wanna go big… go off like a gun they tell me come on just do as i’m told stop dreaming of hot find joy in this cold but i want the heat (oh yes) i want to feel warm! don’t want to repeat (this mess) don’t want to conform

still i pay my taxes i jump through the hoops it never relaxes: life lived in a loop

I want to go off… go off like a gun! a bright shooting star- as hot as the sun

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

my best my best is what i give i never rest i never live but i don’t die i try to grip this liquid life inside my fist is this a test what must i learn if this is hell oh well i’ll burn and use my body as a meal is this what godly beings feel?

so come the worst i’ll curse and taaaake it if i don’t try this life is waaaaasted I’ll struggle puzzled cold and naaaaaaked and hold to hope that i will maaaake it and if i don’t then may my bones out in the garden over-grown be turned into some little home for those as lost and as alone

the stars all wheel over head it’s always heal or be dead i must i know let go of dread and trust my questing steps instead

the day will play and i will daaaance it i’ll set my bet down and i’ll chaaaaance it with danger hurtful flirt romaaaaaaantic make my own wish, insist i graaaaant it

my best my best is what i give i never rest but do i live still i don’t die i try to grip this liquid life inside my fist…

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

i said i'm a tramp hobo and bum an' one mean son an' that's okay i said i'm a tramp i know but lovin' keeps on comin' my-y way

some times i'm just a drifter who's down on his luck but a smile from the Lady tips my own lips up!

down and out i ain't got nothin' but my laugh and my tough an' my-y name down and out my main skill bluffin' it's enough in thi-is game

my rhymes are just a whistle i'm hummin' along but with some help from the Lady i can sing this song!

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

maybe i'll find a singer or some musicians to partner up with

#song #songs #song master list #poem #poetry #all songs are poems i guess

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my-toh-theories-2 · 1 year

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Ik people talk a lot bout Caleb being doomed by the narrative but I don't think we talk enough bout Belos being doomed by the narrative. He's someone who wanted to be the main character so badly that he became the villian. In a story and another realm that couldn't give less of a shit about all of that lol.

TOH is a fantasy story that breaks both the fantasy and the fantasy genre. Playing with what you'd expect of it. Of what you'd expect from a fantasy story n world. It's pretty realistic too and not in a dumb grim dark way it's like, genuinely realistic. Sometimes the heroes loose. Sometimes shitty people get off scot free. Sometimes things change, permanently, for both the worse, neutral and better. And again not in a grim dark way there's still beauty to behold here. There's still love to be found.

So where does that put Belos? Someone who wants and demands that kind of story for himself in a world that couldn't give less of a shit about it giving that to him? He gets angry, bitter and spiteful. He blames the world for not meeting his entitled demands. He holds such a strong conviction in his beliefs and values as well and is so goddamn arrogant that he's immune to change. All of his problems become entirely self made. Made worse by his guilty conscience and with each choice he makes it spirals, getting worse and worse. A bit of a "I'm in too deep" attitude going on here if you get what I mean.

Look. He knows, deep, deep down that what he's doing is wrong.

"Go on. Go be a hero." -Belos Young Blood: Old Souls

But he'll never admit to that. Because admitting to that guilt means taking a long, very long uncomfortable hard look into the mirror. It means acknowledging everything.

There's a reason he started wearing gloves after killing Caleb..

He is his own worse problem. He keeps making worse and worse decisions for himself. Spiraling further and further down due to his own worse vices, guilt, fear and entitlement. He is doomed by a narrative that doesn't care about giving it's characters that kind of fantasy and narrative. His fantasy. And in any other fantasy story, let's be honest, he would be the main character. But not here. Luz, a bi Latina neurodivergent gnc girl is the main character, not him. And the Demon Realm isn't going to give him any special treatment cuz he's a cishet white human man. It's not gonna give him special treatment at all lol. In fact him not having a bile sack puts him lower on the totem pole and you know that irks him SO MUCH (lol suffer harder Bitchlos)

He's also doomed by a narrative about love, acceptance, family, friendship, community, growth, compassion, change, moving on, etc. etc. He's a looser, loner, incel, hero wannabe Christo-fascist dictator who's last person in his life that genuinely loved him, died; 300 years ago by his own hateful hands.

I have many other thoughts n feelings bout this but idk I just wanna get this out there. I have Many Thoughts bout this show that I only let ruminate in my head cjsjsks. Figured I should get them out there so yeah. Lemme know your thoughts lol

#just wanted to finally start getting all of my thoughts out of my head cjsjsks #toh #the owl house #toh belos #belos #toh analysis

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petrenocka · 4 months

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Maybe that's a hot take, but I do think Wrathion being absent in Legion is a great writing choice.

Sure, entirely sidestepping the character who self-fulfilling prophecy-ed the expansion into being might seem silly, but for Wrathion's own ark it makes perfect sense.

Because at this point Wrathion is absolutely convinced that Azeroth is doomed. His plans to muster an army capable of dealing with The Burning Legion could not have been more of a failure. He has every reason to believe that his vision of the end is guaranteed to come true and that he is the cause of it. Just from him touching the problem, even with the best intentions it got worse in every way.

That's entirely too much to take in for a person who's entire purpose is proving to the world and more importantly to himself, that his nature and heritage is NOT that of a world ending monster.

Not going to lie, big mood checking out of trying after fucking up so bad it reinforces every single doubt you have about your worth.

This is exasperated by Wrathions self perception as a ""smart guy who sees the reality for what it is"". When you conclude with certainty by using cold facts and logic that you are a failure, are always wrong and break everything you touch, a depressed mind won't catch the contradiction between "I'm always wrong" and "my self assessment is correct".

Not only does Wrathion's pride feed his faith in his doom prophecy, the irreversibility if his mistake. It most definitely makes him completely unpreceptive to the possibility that whatever he is currently thinking bout himself may not be true.

Makes sense why Wrathion would be paralyzed in a dark corner somewhere the entire expansion.

But then the unthinkable happens: mortals beat The Burning Legion, and we beat it so hard Fell is now more or less off the multiverse politics chart for the time being. We kill a Titan for god's sake!

Which for Wrathion was probably such a relief and, barrirring actual therapy, exactly what he needed. Not only could he rejoice that his mistake literally wasn't the end of the world, it meant his prophecy was wrong. More importantly here he has the best possible proof that mortals of Azeroth can stand up for themselves. That he doesn't need to be the one hero to save the day, but that perhaps just participating in the process is enough.

My headcanon is that it was enough to let Wrathion put himself back together somewhat and after climbing out of that hole he jumped into Void research as an outlet/distraction. Hence why he is suddenly the best specialist on protection against Old God corruption in VoN.

And after all of that Wrathion gets character development that allows him to be content with playing a secondary role in defeating N'Zoth. He was invaluable yes, but he allowed us to take center stage, puts his trust in us to do our thing. And in my opinion self isolation and paranoia/need for control where the main things that left Neltarion vulnerable to old god influence.

Which makes it so neat that this is how Wrathion finally gets an oh so needed W. As well as quite literally allows black dragons to return ro Azeroth.

#world of warcraft #wrathion #analysis

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todayisafridaynight · 1 year

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masumi and jo are like fathers to me .....((

Legally can only ever refer to masumi as papa arakawa because he really is just Father to me i love him like he were my own dad. after committing crimes all day he goes home and bakes cookies none of which masato will eat out of spite but ichi’s always happy to eat them :) masumi tells ichi not to smile with his teeth because masumi smiled once and no one could take him seriously anymore because of his beaming smile. Hes so scarynin the dad and everyones afraid of him and thats what he wants but he also wants his son to answer his phonecalls so he knows what flavor of cake he should pick up from the bakery :(

meanwhile jo that awkward as hell parent your friends are scared of but unlike it being an unfortunate case of Resting Bitch Face they usually have really good reasons like the time he stabbed jimmy’s hand for breathing near an expensive vase but when he does Parent Things then its the harshest 180 of your life. he’s wearing a frilly apron and trying to fry chicken but he keeps burning it but he looks so focused and hes really trying guys give him a break or he’s breaking our bones

#snap chats #sorry need to be cursed a second every time i think of jo i think of that vid where like #some geezer’s yelling at some kids and one of them holds up his hand like ‘daddy chill :(‘ and that just makes me man angrier LMAO #anyways me playing Y7 #I didnt think id type up so much in response to this- maybe im just bored of the wedding already #but i do love papas masumi and jo.... i love thinkin bout them bein dads.....#love it when rgg makes dads that love their kids it means i get to project so much sappy shit onto them #arakawa moreso than jo but ill find a way. ive seen mr tsutsumi play an adorable father enough to know its possible #hm.... i love them.....#this ask has doomed me now my brains gonna mold while im supposed to be happy for my sis gettin married ☠️

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tooxmanyxships · 5 months

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Nonie, can u make a ‘never have I ever’ fic with the old grid, and it ended with the admission of almost everyone’s not so secret crush on Nico? Lewis and Nico also eventually admitted to being in a relationship then 🤭

P.S. Inspired with that compilation of post where Mark, JB, even Seb, admitted to finding Nico beautiful 🤭🥰

Sure can! 😉

They all blamed Daniel (and Valtteri and Kimi) for this.

It was Daniel's idea, of course it was, to get 'the ol' gang' back together.

But what's a 'get back together' night without alcohol?

Absolutely nothing.

So here they were. Back together and getting drunk by a fire pit.

The night was filled with voices and laughter, which could only mean it was a great evening.

But when they saw Daniel and Jenson huddled together at some point, they knew the peace and quiet wouldn't last long.

"Guys!" Jenson piped up, trying to catch everyone's attention. "Daniel and I decided that we're playing never have I ever!"

A collective groan could be heard.

"Guys, come on. It will be fun!" Daniel backed up his partner in crime. And who could resist that smile?

So, they all settled down around the fire pit, ready to play this game of doom.

~**~

The game starts off really mild. Some would even call it boring.

The only exciting part is that they have to take a shot every time they've done the thing that's been asked.

But then it's Valtteri's turn and his shared look with Daniel should be enough to send them all running.

"Never have I ever had a crush on another driver."

Daniel drinks, so do Jenson, Mark and - - - Seb?

"Okay, now I have to know." Daniel's grin looks shark like. "We all know about Mark and Jenson's man crush on each other." He ignores the sputtering from both mentioned men. "But Seb? Who did you have a crush on?"

"That's not part of the game, Daniel." Sebastian tries, trying his hardest not to take a sip from his drink again.

"I'd like to know too."

Sebastian glares at Kimi. Of all the times he decides to speak, it has to be now.

They're all watching him expectantly. Waiting for him to actually answer.

He mumbles something, a name that no one can make out.

"What was that?"

Damn you, Daniel.

"I said... Nico." He clears his throat and stares everywhere but at the people around him. "Nico Rosberg."

There's silence. Sebastian wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

"Good choice." Sebastian's head whips around towards the blond man who's name he just mentioned. He gets a grin from him and a shrug. "Didn't expect that though."

"The crush was over pretty quickly." Sebastian answers, receiving laughter from the others.

"You can't be the only one who's had a crush on Nico." Daniel again. Of course. "Who else had a crush on him?"

Surprisingly, or maybe not that surprising actually, most of them put up their hand.

"What can I say," Jenson grinned, "Britney is beautiful."

"Especially when he's in the wall," Mark added.

Nico rolled his eyes while the others laughed.

Well everyone but Lewis.

Seb noticed too and nudged the Brit.

"What's wrong, Lewis?"

"He lied."Everyone looked over at Valtteri when he spoke up." He didn't put up his hand. "

Lewis scowled at Valtteri, but Valtteri just stared back at him challengingly.

"I didn't lie, first of." Lewis answered, taking a big swig of his drink before putting it down. "Because I never had a crush. He was always mine."

To prove his point, Lewis, blaming it on the alcohol, stood up and draped himself, unceremoniously, over a dumbstruck Nico's lap.

Nico blinked when Lewis' slightly cold fingers caressed his cheek, and then he felt lips connect with his own.

On instinct, his lips moved against those all so familiar ones, his arms wrapping around that familiar body.

There were cheers and bouts of "fucking finally!" being uttered all around them, but they didn't even seem to notice.

Finally Lewis pulled back, smiling at Nico before turning his body a little to look at the others.

"See. A crush means nothing. I've got the complete package."

Nico chuckled and buried his face into Lewis' neck, kissing his skin there.

He was right.

This meant so much more than any other man having a crush on him.

#brocedes #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf #my writing #lewis hamilton/nico rosberg

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rage-against-the-cistem · 1 month

Text

autistic guy needs rent money. the job hunting been a pain in the ass, waiting for a call with the final offer is like waiting for godot

hi peeps! i recently moved out out of my parents house to avoid the abuse. i thought i could get a job fast, but given my limitations (autism, anxiety, depression, not having a car, not having a college degree) and lack of experience, it has been hard.

i wish i did better at job hunting but rn im burning all my saved money from my first and last job, to buy food and pay rent. Im getting into a depressive bout bc well that is what happens when u have such a tight budget that leaves no space for treats.

honestly, the donation goal is 210 euros just to cover rent, the other expenses i can manage them. i just don't want to be homeless.

you can donate here

i stream playing DOOM (1993) and Silent Hill on twitch and write poems, if you want one made for u, i do commissions on ko-fi

if you can't donate, have a cute possum pic^^

#mutual aid #donation #signal boost #queer #trans #adhd #ocd #non binary #trans masc #anarchism #dono post #trans mutual aid

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embossross · 1 year

Text

The Devotion of the Girl in the Mirror

Chapter 4 >> Chapter 5 >> Masterlist

✣ Pairing: Rindou x AFAB fem!Reader w/ a chapter cameo of reader/yuzuha

✣ Warning: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI

✣ Series: part of the In the Belly of the Beast fic universe

✣ Chapter CW: bdsm play feat. reader/yuzuha (gasp!), bondage, overstim, vibrators, exhibitionism, group BDSM feat. 2 other subs getting masturbated (one fem!AFAB and one fem!AMAB, idk crowd jeers, a little bit of degradation, bad communication & angst, drinking)

✣ Story CWs: BDSM dob/sub relationship; sex (oral, ptv, pta, etc.); genre typical drug use, alcohol, smoking

✣ Synopsis: A story of two lonely people find love for better or worse. Or, dom!Rindou is sweet on his girl. Or, on paper, you and Rindou have nothing in common. But sometimes chemistry defies logic, and with every conversation, you find yourself more bewitched until all you see, smell, or hear is Rindou.

✣ Word Count: ~8.5k

The black dot may have been nothing but a circle, a representation of the sun or an eye, except it is written, which makes it punctuation. As a symbol of punctuation, it may have been a period at the end of a sentence, except there are three, which makes it part of an ellipsis. As an ellipsis, it may have indicated a trailing off of a thought except it accompanies a blank space on his screen, an auto-generated signal from his phone, which means you are still typing, as you have been for the last five minutes with no message yet in response to his text.

It should not take this long to respond to an invitation to dinner.

With every minute that passes, his ire rises higher.

Rindou strains through another set of lat pulls, refusing to let you and your silent treatment slow him down. Opposite him, Benkei deadlifts a stunning 300 kg. When the bar hits the floor, the clang echoes off the mirror-lined walls.

There is a gym in the basement of his apartment complex, guaranteed to be empty in the early pre-dawn hours, which he prefers for the privacy it offers. Wakasa’s gym is never empty. Fighters practice boxing, MMA, and jujutsu with retired pros morning and night. Most of the customers sport tattoos from one syndicate or another, and Rindou often recognizes the guys on his own payroll by the free weights or sweating in the saunas. Rindou only started returning to Wakasa’s gym for the occasional practice bout or strength training session in the last few months. Wakasa’s been filling his ear with the idea of taking you and his girl on a double date, a vacation to the mountains when your semester wraps, and Rindou has been coming by to talk the details.

A text finally lights up his screen, and Rindou forces himself to ignore it for a solid minute while he finishes his set even as his eyes dart back against his will.

I can’t do dinner. Plans with Naoya. But I could do drinks.

Wakasa lopes forward, hands in his pockets, before Rindou can answer. It’s his turn to leave you with the ellipsis of anxiety and doom. He locks his phone and tosses face-down on a bench.

“Wanted to tell you we got the goods through Nagoya yesterday,” Wakasa says tonelessly. “Ushioda’s really come through. My guy says customs not only didn’t check, they agreed to decrease security personnel during offboarding. Ran is going to be a menace about being the one to make this happen, but he’s worked his magic on this.”

Rindou matches Wakasa’s subdued attitude beat for beat, but in his mind, he runs through a month’s worth of memos and emails to recall if he knew about this plan. “You sent a shipment of girls through the port? That’s fucking brazen.”

“Mochi wanted to test the limits early with something cheap before we put our expensive shit through there,” Wakasa said.

According to Takeomi, Ushioda begged on bended knee for clemency for his son. It was hard to say whether love or shame drove the father, but the outcome was the same. Acme Corp would smuggle Bonten contraband through the Port of Nagoya, so long as they streamlined into their regular shipping schedule to avoid setting off any alarm bells.

This was the second shipment received through the port after moving a little marijuana through a few weeks earlier. Rindou tries to keep his expectations in check as operations continue smoothly, but his hopes rise against his better judgment.

“Mochi says he wants to do a few more runs, but that you should start thinking through where you could source the heroine,” Wakasa relays.

They could source through the triads as the Chinese and Russian gangs already have inroads with the producers, but they would each take their cut and ruin Bonten’s margins. The drug would be new on the market. Rindou doesn’t want to price high outright. Start cheap and once the clientele can’t live without their fix, then drive the prices up. They could run a deficit to start, but that would mean Koko up his ass. Cutting the triads out completely isn’t an option either as they would need to ship out of China, but if they could build their own supplier network, they could negotiate a better rate.

“It’s gonna be too obvious if we have guys coming in and out of Afghanistan all the time. They don’t even run direct flights out of Seoul. We’d get picked instantly. I’m thinking we could get away with sending someone through to Turkey though. With a little palm greasing, they can cross into Iran without getting their passport stamped. The IRGC run the heroine trade through Afghanistan, so we could develop our own connections from there,” Rindou says.

Wakasa nods along at what he already figured. “Who you gonna send?”

“Not me if that’s what you’re thinking. I hate plane rides,” Rindou says.

“Of course, not you. We need you. I was thinking Hanma.”

Rindou groans. “I fucking hate that guy.”

“We all fucking hate that guy. But that’s why he’s good at this shit. He’s done great work in Hong Kong. Send him over there. He knows how to make the coldest man sweat,” Wakasa suggests.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll think about it.”

He finishes another set of lat pulls, while Wakasa and Benkei chat away about the insipid rise of Peloton. Endorphins rush to his brain, and he feels magnanimous enough to finally shoot you a reply.

See you at 5.

If he has anything to say about it, Naoya will be eating dinner alone tonight.

Two people could not be dressed more oppositely. Fresh from his post-workout shower, Rindou wears nothing but a pair of sweats. Droplets of water scatter across his bare shoulder blade as his long, wet hair drips freely. Strong chest and arms still pumped from muscle training great you at the door. You, meanwhile, dressed for an Arctic exploration in a floor-length parka, bulging in all the wrong places, a fluffy scarf wound three-times round your neck, and an equally fluffy, fur-lined hood. A mask completes the look, so the only skin he can see is a sliver of your forehead and your narrowed eyes.

“Just looking at you makes me feel cold,” you scowl.

“Just looking at you is making me cold.”

You barge right past him into his apartment. The heater works overtime to keep the entire complex a toasty 23 degrees. Past the entryway, where you slip out of your boots, the dining room table is lined with boxes of Chinese takeout; Unsure what you’d want to eat, Rindou opted to order a smorgasbord of options.

Beneath the unflattering coat, you wear a black dress. The long sleeves and tasteful length contrast a daring vee that dips down to show off the swell of your lovely, little breasts. You’re packaged like a delicious gift for the unwrapping, and Rindou can’t resist planting a soft kiss to the back of your neck as you hang your coat. He expects the battle tonight will be a long and painful one, but still you dressed up for him.

“Good to see it’s you under there. For a second, I thought it might be an assassin,” Rindou jokes.

“Easy for you to laugh all warm in here! It’s freezing outside. They’re calling for snow tonight into tomorrow, which sucks. I can’t miss class at this point in the semester,” you complain.

“Well, I’ve got everything you need to warm up,” Rindou says. He gestures at the table laden with food, and then, more critically, brandishes the bottle of wine bought just for tonight. “And if the weather’s too bad tomorrow, I’m sure they’ll cancel. You can just hang out here all day.”

“My professors are all sadists. I wouldn’t put it past them to host class as they get double-bypass surgery. They’d have the surgeon right there in the lecture hall,” you grumble.

Rindou half listens as you launch into a prolonged rant about your upcoming finals. His attention is understandably split as he searches your lively expressions for the ugly shadow of jealousy. Behind every word, he hunts for double meanings.

The look of pure betrayal on your face when he ran into you yesterday in Chiba will not soon leave his mind. It colored his scenes yesterday with Mayuri, turning him mean and unmerciful as he bound and belted her ass red. She deserved his full attention after putting her trust in him, but Rindou twice almost walked away to call you. Had you answered, he might have berated you for daring to look at him like that, like you’d caught him fucking your mother or murdering the family pet. Like he’d done something unforgivable to you.

Now, as you gripe about exams, every bit the picture of the beleaguered uni student, your words ring false. Like you are filling time and space to put distance between the you of yesterday, so judgey and offended, and the you of today. You tell him how exams are two months out, and like a good student, you are already studying in earnest in the pits of what you dub “flashcard hell” as Kii has taken to posting flashcards over every expanse of wall in her apartment, springing prep questions on unconsenting listeners, and crying periodically about how she should have spent fewer hours sleeping and more time reading the supplementary materials. Rindou hums in sympathy in all the right places, and he almost, almost begins to relax into the conversation. Like an idiot.

“Are you feeling the dumplings or the pork?” Rindou asks, plating up a hearty helping of food for himself.

“Neither. I can’t eat, remember?” you say.

“Oh, come on. Stay the night. It’s too cold to be going out.”

“True, but I promised Naoto. We’re going to this really fancy curry restaurant, and he said he’d pay, so I’m planning to go all out and get dessert,” you say.

Noticing his wine glass is running low, Rindou drains the last dregs and pours himself a healthy portion. This will be easier drunk. He debates pouring you more as well, wondering if a little tipsiness would make you spunkier or mellow the worst of your impulses. Because he senses the fit approaching, the moment you break your pretense that everything is fine and well and force a confrontation.

“You know, I don’t like playing games,” he says.

“I don’t like playing games either.”

“Then, don’t.”

Rindou says it shortly, definitively. The barest hint of command reinforces his voice, and he watches the way you receive the order, squirming in that delightfully submissive way of yours before you reject your inclination to obedience. You set your jaw.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say.

Rindou sighs. He expected you would be difficult but not passive aggressive. Not like this.

“You have dinner plans with Naoto? Seriously?”

“Yes?”

“Bullshit,” Rindou snaps. “I expected you to be immature about what happened yesterday, but this? You’re better than this. Forget your conveniently timed dinner plans, and let’s act like adults. Then, we can have a nice night.”

“It’s a work event. Naoto was nervous about going alone, so he asked me to come with him. This was planned weeks ago. I just forgot until he reminded me,” you insist, standing up from your chair, like the added height will strengthen your lie.

“Convenient,” Rindou sneers.

In the six months you’ve been together, you have never had a genuine fight or even argument. Seeing your smiling face typically puts Rindou in too good a mood, curbs the worst of his temper, so he is slow to pick fights. You, meanwhile, listen so well, adapting your behavior without him having to utter a word. Bickering typically becomes flirtatious banter in a matter of minutes, the kind that ends with your panties in his pocket.

So, Rindou doesn’t know what to expect from you in a real fight. He half expected you to fold at the slightest correction. You are still young, so he doesn’t write off the possibility of some kind of petty manipulation either, the silent treatment maybe, or more probably breaking into a mess of tears, the kind that bring so many men to a panic; Unfortunately for you, Rindou doesn’t capitulate to a woman’s cries or begging, going cold at any miserable attempt to manipulate his emotions.

Faced with you now, the tendons in your neck pulse as you square of against him without any sign of crumbling. You worry your lower lip between your teeth until it is red and swollen. It is the only sign of anxiety. Otherwise, you stand strong.

“If you feel like I’m somehow attacking you, it must be a guilty conscience. Because I haven’t said or done anything to you.”

“What do I have to feel guilty about?” Rindou demands coldly.

“You’d have to tell me. Because I thought about it all day and night –”

“See, I knew you were wound up about yesterday –”

“I thought about it all day and night,” you raise your voice to drown him out. “And, yes, it was weird to see you with someone else. Yes, it hurt. It was so unexpected. But, if you think I’m trying to punish you over it, you’re out of line because my eyes are wide open. You’re not my boyfriend –”

“No, I’m not. Which is why you shouldn’t –”

“I know, I know. How can I be hurt or angry when you’re not my boyfriend? You didn’t cheat on me or break any promises. I have nothing to be upset about.”

“Right.”

Confused and more than a little wary, Rindou sits back down at the table. He has held conversations like this a few times in his life. Most subs understand the importance of negotiation implicitly and take him for what he is. There have been a handful of in the past, however, usually inexperienced women like you, who struggled to work through the limitations of their relationship with him, crashing futilely against the boundaries of what he offered.

Because he doesn’t do relationships. Blame it on the dangers of his work, the secrecy inherent in the lifestyle, or some intrinsic flaw in his makeup. Regardless, he never plans to tie himself down to one woman. All that road offers is the erosion of his freedom.

“Since you wanted to talk about it so much though, bringing it up and all, I would like to ask about what I should expect,” you continue. “Because I didn’t realize you were seeing other people, and that raises questions. Like, are you practicing safe sex with these women? Have you been getting tested for STDs? Should we be using condoms? And, are you looking for more long-term subs? How would you even fit in another sub? Would we have to see each other less, so you could make time for a new one? What should I expect going forward?”

Each question is too reasonable to deny, so Rindou answers plainly, “You’re the only person I see regularly, so I use condoms with everyone else and get tested on the first of every month. If you want to use condoms together, that is entirely your decision. I’ll accept whatever you decide. I’m not looking to train anyone else right now. If I found someone that suited my tastes, I might consider it though, and yeah, that would mean adjusting my schedule around because I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you would not be open to training together.”

“No!”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Rindou says.

“How many women have you been with since we got together?” you demand.

There is no good answer, and Rindou groans, “Seriously? Don’t start overreacting now.”

“I’m cool! I’m being so cool. Just answer the question,” you smile, but it is a mockery of your normal, gleaming smiles. Teeth clenched tight together, it is more like an animal baring its fangs.

“No! I don’t owe you a fucking itemized list of every woman I’ve fucked. Just like I don’t run around town telling them about you. I haven’t cheated on you. I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I just wanna know how and when you’re finding time to meet other people.”

Rindou rolls his eyes. “Because that’s rational. You don’t actually want to know the answer to that.”

“I just don’t know where you’re possibly finding the time to meet all these women –”

“Again, you’re exaggerating. Not all these women. Some, like Mayuri, I knew before you. Some I meet through work. Straightforward stuff.”

“Mayuri is the woman from yesterday?”

“I think we’re done with this conversation now,” Rindou says tightly.

A shininess blurs the color of your eyes then, and Rindou sighs. He wants to wrap you up in his arms and praise you for being such a strong, beautiful girl because despite all your tough words, this isn’t easy for you. If he could be a better man for you, he would consider it, but there is only so much he can offer, and the burden of accepting that is on you.

“Thank you for being honest with me. I really do need to head out and meet Naoto, but I’ll think about the condom thing,” you murmur.

“Baby, don’t leave like this,” Rindou tries. There is no more fight in your stance and now that the threat of conflict is ended, he finds the energy draining from his whole body.

“I’m fine! We’re fine. Seriously, Rindou. I’m not going to overreact or stamp my foot at you like that might change something. My eyes are wide open like I told you. I understand where you’re coming from completely. We can hang out soon,” you say.

Rindou doesn’t like the idea of you leaving when your foundations are so shaken, wants to stuff you full of gone-cold Chinese food and cuddle on the couch until you fall asleep on his shoulder. Even if neither of you yelled or descended into insults, he feels like he fought a war, and the only way to recover is in your arms.

He follows you to the entryway.

You redon your winter gear in a hurry. The puffy coat is plush and cozy as he pulls you close and kisses you long and slow. You return the kiss with wind-chapped lips not fighting him at all. The heat that always explodes between you blazes, and he cups and caresses you through the barrier of the coat.

He wants you to stay.

You break the kiss after only a minute and smile.

“I’ll call you, ok?”

And then, you are gone.

When Rindou sleeps, he dreams of shopping malls built like mazes, window shopping displays of the finest goods, and he understands without knowing that to obtain even one miraculous product from these stores would spell his salvation; But whenever he tries to enter one of the stores, the maze shifts, redirects him until he is walking forwards again, searching. Still searching. During the slippery seconds between sleep and waking, that liminal space where dreams and life converge, he stews in resentment for what he can’t possess. That resentment often follows him into the day, though he tries not to dwell on it. The recurring dream started sometime in his early twenties. He remembers that dream joining him in sleep on at least a monthly basis, but for all he knows, he dreams it every night only to forget with the rising of the sun.

The weeks that follow the lingerie incident remind him of that dream only there is no supernatural force reworking the architecture of time and space to prevent him from entering the store. It feels like he’s piloting a plane headed straight for a cliff. There is still time to push the emergency button and eject to safety if he is only willing to abandon the plane to its solitary, fiery fate. But, he is a pilot, and the plane is all he’s ever known, and the longer he goes without pushing the button, the slighter his chances of escaping unscathed.

Because you are not fine.

The three weeks that follow pass at a crawl. Time reshapes itself into molasses around the giant you-sized absence in his days. It is easy, at first, to deny the obvious as you offer such convincing excuses to blow him off. After all, your friends do often lean on you for emotional support, and finals are drawing close, and your mother does deserve a break. So what if you leave his texts on read for hours at a time?

On the fourth day, he calls you in the free period he knows falls between your Wednesday lectures. When you answer, Rindou mistakes your sing-song hello for the voicemail you have relegated him to recently. You apologize for not having time to talk, squeezing more words into a breath than humanly plausible as you explain your packed study schedule. You promise to see him soon before you hang up.

You sounded fine on the phone. The same voice, light and airy like spring personified, that Rindou knows so well.

But you are not fine.

The ice wall between you thaws a little in the second week when Rindou reminds you that he bought tickets to the Inaba/Salas tour. Again, you surprise him by joining as planned at the stadium. Throughout the concert, you smile and cheer along, and the open delight on your face as you groove to the music invites him to join in the fun. At the end of the night, he drives you home to where you swear your mom is waiting. He kisses you breathless in the front seat of his car. You sigh hot and sticky into his mouth, notched into the crook of his shoulder like you have carved a space for yourself there, and whisper “Sir” with more fervor than a prayer. Everything seems fine.

But you are not fine.

Only a few days later, you agree to a date. The familiarity as he texts you details and soaks up your liberal usage of emojis relaxes him into thinking all is well. He takes you ice skating at Tokyo Midtown Gardens. With your little gloved hand in his, you half carry each other around the rink, equally graceless without the surety of solid ground. Rindou laughs more than he has for two weeks. You both fall again and again, Rindou toppling each time so as to shield your body from the worst of it. As you sprawl on top of him, padded from head to toe in winter wear, you promise to kiss his purple bruises better and call him your hero. Back at his apartment, you do just that, licking and kissing every part of his body, losing track of time. The trains stop running, so you sleep where you belong in the cradle of his arms. He wakes up at 6AM to the sound of you shuffling, halfway out the door citing an early start to the day. You would have left without a goodbye, but at his groggy inquiry, you tell him you are fine.

But you are not fine.

Rindou wants to confront you about the change. He hates playing stupid games more than accusations or tears and would rather have it out at this point. But, whenever you visit, he never broaches the subject. Because you are so singularly you! And fuck it. He misses you. The contrast between seeing you fives time a week and this drought is stark. Now, when you leave, you don’t send him dumb memes or answer his calls to talk about your day. You don’t rush to make plans to see him again either, and Rindou knows he can’t accept your lame excuses anymore. Something is fundamentally broken.

For the first time in maybe ever, Rindou throws himself into his work. The timing is convenient with recent developments, so he offers to take the meetings outside the perimeter of Tokyo when before he might have dragged his feet. He personally briefs Takeomi every day. When Kakucho mentions a security threat in passing, Rindou volunteers to help even though it falls well outside his purview. Anything to keep the body active.

You had come to fill up the hours of his day, to be the dessert he could look forward to after a meal of veggies. Rindou can’t comprehend how he used to fill the interminable hours between six PM and sleep without your assistance.

So, he works, and he tries not to think about anything much at all.

The plane soars onward without any assistance on his part. The details of the exposed cliff face, jagged and unforgiving, grow clearer by the hour. There will be no escape. When he crashes, Rindou knows he is going to explode.

Ran once said all of Bonten has PTSD in one form or another. Overexposure to high stress, life-or-death situations puts too much stress on the adrenal system, so now half the executives drop to their stomachs when a car misfires, stand with their backs flat to the nearest wall in every new room, avoid crowds like some people avoid traffic tickets. Rindou considers himself free of this affliction, but on the road, hands flexing on the steering wheel and eyes split between mirrors like a car might strike out into his lane at any moment, he is every bit as activated.

The hour is late, creeping towards midnight when Rindou pulls onto the expressway. There are predictably few passenger cars sharing the road. Semitrucks kick up a mist of rain that obscures his windshield.

To fill the sleepless hours, Rindou is developing all kinds of new habits. Driving, brain preciously blank to all but the threat of traffic, is one of them. So is going to the office. Just today, he went to the Ueno office of all places rather than watch the hours of the day tick by in his apartment. There is no email unanswered, directive unissued, or memo unread to keep his brain occupied. He wishes there was because his apartment holds as little allure now as it did this this morning.

A notification lights up the display. It’s a reminder that the BDSM club in Roppongi – the one where you first met – is open for play tonight. Rindou palms his cock, and it feels like an animal, a dead one, in his pants. Not even a stir. His mood is too black and distracted to responsibly dom anyone, so he dismisses the notification.

Screeching the tires, Rindou almost misses his exit. He brakes hard down the ramp until he shoots out on a quiet street. At the drab buildings, he does a double take, recognizing the north entrance to Nakano Station.

He has driven straight past his real exit and an extra twenty minutes without noticing to arrive in your neighborhood.

Rindou feels drunk despite not taking a sip of alcohol all day. He pulls into a gas station and refills the tank. While it pumps, he pops his contacts out of sore eyes. Everything blurs like a photograph in soft focus. He closes his eyes against a headache and breathes deep for 120 torturous breaths. Back in the car, he unearths his glasses from the glove compartment. They’re the same style, though a stronger prescription, that he wore as a teen. Catching his reflection in the rearview, Rindou sees the boy he once was. Just as lost, letting things happen around him without a thought, only leaping to action when stronger powers (namely Ran) prompted). Someone who watches as life happens.

Nothing is in his control.

The BDSM club is five minutes closer to Nakano than his apartment, a negligible difference, but after the driving mix-up he changes course. Nostalgia takes the wheel to lead to where you first met, where he has not visited since.

The ticket takers at the theater don’t recognize him, hesitating until he points at the tattoo on his throat. He looks unkempt: hair ratty and unbrushed, jacket slung over his shoulder and button-up crumpled at the ends, and his glasses highlight the eyes of a man who has barely slept in days. It is no surprise that subs don’t flock to him when he enters. He doesn’t look like the all-powerful dom tonight. Best he sits back and watches.

Rindou pays for a full bottle of bourbon, served neat and hard on the taste buds. The club is busy as it’s Saturday, and couples and groups clog the four stages. There are no tables left close enough for a view of the action, so Rindou stands in the corner, taking heavy swigs straight from the bottle until his stomach cramps.

There is little variety on stage. Three doms whip, cane, and flog their subs. All older man with younger women. They are impersonal, showing perfunctory delight at the infliction of pain. These are the kinds of scenes that bore him when done without finesse.

On the fourth stage, he recognizes Lady X, a domme he knows from many shared nights spent just like this, bringing women to their knees. Lost in his memories is Lady X’s real name. Yuzu something…Yuzuriha? Yuzuyu? In the clubs, she always goes by her alias or is called simply Lady, but Rindou remembers her vaguely as the sister of the tenth gen leader of the Black Dragons.

Lady is the antithesis of Rindou as a dom.

If Rindou finds control in manipulating a pliant body and acceptance in a sub’s embrace of his touch, whether it offers pain or pleasure, Lady finds release in giving her subs what they want. Where Rindou hoards women’s orgasms like precious jewels, flaunting his ownership of them only to hide them away again, Lady distributes them like cheap birdseed, doling out orgasm after orgasm to her thankful subs. Eventually said thanks turns to pleading, as one orgasm becomes four and the pleasure twists to something monumental. Lady then ups the vibrator or nips the woman’s clit with blunt teeth because, as she told Rindou once over a drink at this very bar, her goal in every scene is to create a world where her subs’ worst problem is the existence of too much pleasure, not its absence, nor its inverse, pain.

Tonight, Lady commands the largest audience of patrons. No surprise there as she strikes quite the picture herself, tall and lovely in a pencil skirt as she brings three subs on stage to piteous tears. Rindou slides closer to her stage for a better look.

Suspended in a harness of ropes, the first sub weeps wretchedly. There is a hitachi wand held to her clit. The setting must be high because the buzz travels from the stage to his ears. The woman cries but does not beg for mercy. There is the sheen of the acolyte behind her eyes, like she might commit unspeakable acts if they only bring her back here to Lady’s ropes and generous toys.

A second sub at her side stands restrained but not suspended. Her arms are tied above her, so that she can do nothing while Lady strokes her cock. Lady’s little hand smears messily over the tip, which is an inflamed red. There is a puddle of cum on the floor from the woman’s past orgasms. Little drips of semen harden on her legs. Every touch must hurt, but Lady keeps playing with the tip, forcing her back to hardness whether she likes it or not.

The third sub is just an ass in the air. A perfect ass at that.

Bent over a wooden block and shackled at the ankle, so that her legs are to the audience, the sub’s pussy is spread wide around a vibrator taped to her clit. Her feet kick ineffectually against her restraints, little trembles jiggling her thighs.

Rindou enjoys watching Lady work, so self-assured, so competent at bringing her subs to the brink and past. His eyes stray again and again to the pretty ass in the air. A stir in his pants makes him question his decision to abstain tonight. It has been over a week of his own hand.

After fifteen minutes of more of the same, Lady releases the first two subs from their ropes and cuffs. They are felled heaps on the stage, panting in puddles of their own slick and cum. Lady rounds to the third sub, leaning toward that hidden face in private conversation. Then she stands, and sighs for the audience’s benefit.

“Here I am being so generous, telling this slut to cum as many times as she wants, and she hasn’t cum once! What to do?”

Lady answers her own question by crouching down in front of the sub’s spread pussy and burying her whole face in it. There is a lull in the music, and Rindou can hear just how lewdly Lady laves that pussy with her tongue. Her fingers stretch the sub’s hole at a brutal pace. The woman keens loudly and kicks her feet again. Everything from her little naked toes to canting hips look beautiful in the throws of overstimulation.

Of course, Rindou knows without knowing. A presentiment colors the scene. He leans forward with interest, compelled toward that wet cunt, not wanting to miss a moment of the action, but his stomach sickens too. He ignores the sensation, blames the bourbon warming its way down his belly.

Lady tuts as the sub continues to hang on the precipice without teetering over.

She turns to the audience and says, “Little slut is having a hard time coming without permission from her old dom. Isn’t that the most pathetic thing you’ve ever heard? Why don’t you let her know she has permission to cum? Tell her to squirt all over my hand.”

Eager to join in more actively, the crowd of about thirty hoot and holler in encouragement, mixing in obscenities about the sub’s wet cunt and place beneath Lady’s toys. Rindou claps along.

Four fingers slam in and out of that sloppy hole, and the time between shakes and cries from the sub evaporates until she is blubbering at the stimulation. Lady yanks her up by the hair to gift her the added sting at her scalp, and it pushes the sub over the edge.

Correction: it pushes you over the edge.

Because Rindou knows that ass, and he knows those toes, and even at a distance with the lights too bright and a row of people in front of him, he knows that pretty pussy, too. That pretty pussy now clenches around Lady’s fingers in an orgasm far too long and powerful for your overstimulated body.

Rindou watches your face screw up in pain and tears, an expression just as familiar to him. It is an expression that should belong solely to him.

All three subs follow Lady dutifully off stage after your orgasm finally settles. She bundles you all in blankets, heaping compliments and affection down on you as is your due after such a trying scene. Rindou hovers within earshot as Lady pets your head and rubs a tear from your check. Twenty minutes elapse as you come out of subspace, during which time Rindou drains half the bottle of bourbon.

“I look like a racoon. I’m gonna head to the bathroom and fix my makeup,” you laugh, pointing at the streaks of mascara that paint your cheeks.

You replace the blanket with an overcoat to shield your nakedness then weave your way through the crowd. Compliments on your performance rain down from all sides. Rindou shadows your step. Not far from the bathroom, you drop your phone. When you turn to pick it up off the floor, Rindou is there, already scooping it off the ground.

“Rin – Rindou!” you yelp.

“Not trying to scare you,” Rindou says immediately, defensively, and he passes the phone back to you without even scanning the lock screen for a peek at your messages. “Just saw you and wanted to say hey.”

“Well, hey…um…”

“You might wanna fix your makeup. You’ve got…” Rindou gestures at the cakey residue you already know is there, and you curse.

“Yeah, sorry. I need to go to the bathroom and deal with this.”

“I’ll come with you,” Rindou says, opening the door for you.

“Rindou, you can’t come in here with me,” you whisper.

He almost tells you it’s his club and he can do whatever he wants, but Rindou wears his secrecy like a second skin and only smirks at your worries before following you into the women’s bathroom. It is a six-stall affair with a wall mirror above the sinks. He can hear a woman pee behind the door of one stall, but he ignores the stranger’s presence as you ignore his, turning to the mirrors.

“You did good up there. Looked like you had a lot of tension to work out, which isn’t surprising considering all the studying you’ve been doing. Didn’t you have a paper due this week?” Rindou prompts.

You rub dry fingertips against your cheeks. When that doesn’t work, you wad up three paper towels, wet from the sink, and scrub.

“Yeah, I had a paper on Bashō’s references to music and instrumentation in his poems, which was due on Thursday. It could have been a lot worse honestly. I like the subject, and I thought my first draft was good for once. Of course, I had a complete breakdown on Wednesday after dreaming that the paper was really supposed to be about Nishiyama Sōin and that I’d miscited every source in there, but um, I managed to calm myself down.”

“Good. I don’t know why you always have nightmares about your papers. You always get an A.”

“Not always,” you say darkly.

The woman in the occupied stall hurries out, casting a few curious glances Rindou’s way as she washes her hands. She doesn’t dry them, leaving little splatters of water on the counter. Then, they are truly alone.

“Are you planning to stick around now that you finished your scene? Can’t imagine you wanna do another after that? It looked intense.”

“You really watched that?” you ask.

“Most of it,” he confirms. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” you say without looking at him. You dry your hands while staring at your now streak-free reflection in the mirror.

“If you don’t wanna stay, I could take you home. Or, if you’re hungry, I know a 24/7 breakfast place not far from here. You never eat enough after a scene,” Rindou says.

“Um, I’m good…Have you been coming here often?”

“No, it’s my first time in forever. You?” he asks in a tone that just misses casual.

“It’s my second time in the last two weeks. I’m kind of trying out stuff right now,” you say.

“Trying out stuff…” he tests the words.

“Are you okay? You look a little tense.”

Normally, Rindou chooses his words with precision, but he finds himself unable to process his surroundings. He exists somewhere outside his body, outside his brain, outside this room entirely. He peers down on the scene almost like a security camera, removed and distant. No, rather more like footage from a security camera, viewed days after the fact in a little room by someone who neither knows nor understands the context of the scene. Trying to think through the likely consequences of his words or choosing an alternative phrase, he finds his thoughts vaporous and ungraspable. So, he simply speaks.

“I didn’t like it.”

“Like what? Watching me with someone else?” you say quickly.

He grunts because that’s easier than searching for any kind of answer.

“You said we could fuck other people.”

“I know. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Rindou agrees. It is the correct and automatic response, but he can’t resist tacking on the truth at the end. “I didn’t like watching.”

“Well, that’s flattering at least,” you mutter.

In a different reality, one where he sent you up there with a pat on the ass, he might have liked watching Lady work your cunt up to a waterfall before returning you to him, still hovering on the precipice, edged and needy. He might have liked teasing you all night with the possibility of an orgasm. But he did not like watching you cum for someone else. Not without his permission. Even with a filmy gauze slowing down his brain from the half bottle of bourbon, he knows that much.

“We’re not okay, are we?” Rindou asks.

“No, Rindou. We are not okay.”

“Well, can we talk about it?”

“I don’t know. Can we talk about it without you making me feel like a complete idiot?” you snap.

A woman pushes open the door to the bathroom, but upon hearing the direction of your conversation, she turns right around, leaving you to a privacy tinged by history. The door creaks back into place with a choked slam.

“Like a…? You’re not an idiot?” Rindou insists.

“I know I’m not an idiot! I have spent the last few weeks going back and forth between feeling so sad and then so goddamn angry with you! Because I know that I could not have been more chill about things if I had a lobotomy to remove my frontal cortex first! I was so cool about everything, so understanding, so kind, and you treated me like, like some fucking bother you had to get out of the way!”

The first feeling to reemerge from the confused pit you dumped him in is embarrassment at himself as he is admittedly slow on the uptake, stuttering out, “Wait…this isn’t about…? This is about our conversation at my apartment?”

“Yes!” you hiss, hands flapping emphatically and voice echoing off the tile. The overcoat swallows you whole, a sea of black fabric trailing the floor, but somehow you stand tall within it. “Yes! I came that night so prepared to listen to your side of things and be reasonable and empathetic and all the rest, and you treated me like I was a hysterical child that you had to manage. Far be it from me to criticize the great Rindou! Not that I even did criticize you before you were jumping down my throat. I am not unreasonable. I am not hysterical. And I am not a child. I did not appreciate being treated like I was.”

Rindou remembers back to the hours before you arrived at his apartment that day. How he’d been so sure you would accuse him of cheating or play mind games to negate your own jealousy. The whole time you were there, he maintained that sureness even when you acted contrary to those expectations.

It, he admits, hadn’t been fair.

Worse, it may have been patronizing.

He groans, not at you but at the memory, and rubs a hand over his face. “Fuck, yeah, yeah, you’re probably right. I see that. I didn’t want you to blow things out of proportion, so I tried to shut you down before you could. But I guess I acted like a prick.”

“A prick might be understating it. I came to you to have a conversation in good faith, and you made me feel so…small. Insignificant. Like, I’m just this easy thing to you. Like you could use and discard me, so I better shut my mouth before you throw me away.”

Rindou opens his mouth to give a rebuttal-like reassurance that you are wrong about your supposed disposability to him, but you plow forward, pointed finger punctuating every word, which is a welcome distraction from the look of raw pain on your face. It is like the sun. Too painful to look at directly.

“I know what that feels like, Rindou, because I’ve been treated that way before. I’m young and people call me sweet, and that means people think I’m stupid or superficial, but I’m not. I’m capable of dealing with the hard things and having the hard conversations, and I do not deserve to be treated like I’m too naïve to know how things work.”

There is a layer of grime on his tongue. He focuses on how foreign it feels in his mouth rather than the thumping organ in his ribcage. The way his heart races and the room feels too small is not dissimilar to the sensations he feels when someone fires a gun, when his life is momentarily suspended. A kind of physical panic that quickly settles into alertness.

He breathes deep, calming. Rindou smells the antibacterial soap and weak air freshener blowing from the vents. The colors of the room appear saturated, more contrast and more details accessible to the eye. Most importantly, he sees you clearly. The veins of your throat strain as if bursting with tension your body can’t contain. There are new smudges at the edges as tiny tears wet your eyeline. There is every emotion in those eyes from disgust to anger to sadness, but most of all, there is a question lingering there as you silently beg him to answer: where can we go from here?

“I have never thought of you as some easy thing. I fucked up. I don’t know what was going on in my head that day, but you’re right. I wasn’t seeing you. I should have shut my fucking mouth and listened. I’m sorry.”

Relief warms your eyes.

“I accept your apology,” you say.

“Really?” Rindou asks. After weeks of brewing resentment and your impassioned speech, he didn’t expect a speedy turnaround no matter how many pretty speeches he made himself.

“Yeah, I don’t like being angry. It takes a lot of energy,” you half laugh.

The abrupt about face from anger to laughter throws into stark relief that the is very drunk and very tired. Beneath that, Rindou recognizes a more abstract emotion, too: happiness.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner. I didn’t realize what you were upset about,” Rindou says, and then he adds helpfully. “Because I’m stupid. Thanks for forgiving me.”

“Yeah, you are stupid, but I figure you deserve a little grace because this was the first time in six months that you disrespected me. So long as you never treat me that way again. Seriously. My mother taught me to never put up with that from anyone,” you say.

“On my honor,” Rindou vows. “So, can I buy you something to eat now?”

The happiness explodes out like a shaken soda bottle. One second, he’s filled to the brim with it, and the next it’s gone, bubbling to nothing on the tile because you don’t say yes. Instead, you stare grimly at the wall, all traces of reconciliation gone as you clutch the sleeves of your overcoat tight.

He wonders if his apology is not enough, if he might prove his sincerity to you in some other way. If you were Mikey, he would cut off his pinky. He would gladly gift you the ring, index, and middle fingers of his left hand, too, if you demanded them. But fingers out of the question, he has nothing to give you to prove himself, and you don’t say yes.

“Rindou…I do accept your apology for insulting me, but that’s not all…The truth is, I tried to be cool about it, but I’ve had weeks to think, and…I’m not okay with things going back to how they were if you are dating or hell, sleeping with other people. I’m jealous and hurt. And I can’t accept it,” you say.

“It’s normal to be jealous,” Rindou tries, tone bracing and supportive. “I got jealous today, but I worked through it. I’ve been a dom since I was nineteen, and I’ve never been tied down to one person before. It’s not the way I know how to do things. That’s why I didn’t make any promises when we got together. I didn’t cheat on –”

“Please don’t start that again! I know! I know you technically didn’t do anything wrong. And I know that I can’t make you stop seeing other people. It’s your relationship, too, and you can have your boundaries, but…”

“But?”

“But if I can’t ask you to stop seeing other people, then you can’t ask me to keep loving you.”

You clap a hand to your mouth as if shocked by the confession, or like you might herd the words back into your mouth where they will remain unspoken. But it is too late. He can count on one hand the number of times anyone has told him they loved him, and he will not forget this.

“Baby…” Rindou tries to reach for you, but you scramble away, and now tears fall down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, but that’s the problem, ya know? It hasn’t just been sex or hanging out for me. What we were doing, for me at least, was love, and it hurts too much to love someone who…I tried to take a step back, just have fun with you every once in a while, but there’s no medicine for falling in love, and every time I saw your stupid face, my heart started doing backflips. It doesn’t listen to me when I tell it we shouldn’t love you anymore. And that’s why…”

Your face blurs. It takes Rindou several confused seconds to realize his eyes are wet and blink the moisture away. When you reappear, you have steeled your nerves for the finishing blow.

“That’s why I don’t want to see you anymore. I need space and time to get over you, so um, please just stop calling and texting and all the rest. Just stop.”

Your face blurs again, and this time Rindou knows it’s because his eyes are watering. He blames his stupid glasses. He needs a stronger prescription.

There is no such excuse for your tears that drip past your chin to land on your collar. You wipe fruitlessly at the leakage, too slow to stimmy their fall.

If you say anything after that, Rindou doesn’t hear you over the ringing in his ears. Three women enter the bathroom arm-in-arm and immediately jabber at him about how he isn’t welcome, like three harpies sent to drive him away. Rindou doesn’t fight them as they push him out the door with their words.

Outside in the club, in the dark and music, far from the bright quiet of the bathroom, Rindou feels like he’s stepped onto the surface of Mars. Like he’s planets away from where you are, and he might as well be.

He doesn’t know how to find his way back to you because he stands now amid the wreckage, engine on fire, wings cracked. The plane has finally crashed.

A/N: entering my villain era

"'I was always watching you.' This could have been a breathless declaration of love or a final farewell." - Yōko Ogawa, The Diving Pool: Three Novellas

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #rindou smut #rindou x reader smut #rindou haitani

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