#can someone who can gif pls gif me these moments | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nicksolemnlyswears · 9 months

Note

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though.

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples.

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white.

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist.

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other.

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back.

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours.

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him.

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop."

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you.

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically.

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier.

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds.

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two.

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder.

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin.

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

#request #han lue imagine #fanfiction #fast and furious fanfiction #fast and furious #han lue fanfiction #han seoul oh #han lue x reader #han lue request #han lue #han lue imagines #han x reader #han x you #han lue smut #smut

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throwaway-yandere · 8 months

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FLAWLESS (Yandere!Various Genshin/Reader)

A/n: This is a complete interactive fic w/ CGs! There’s an HP system and 4 possible endings (yandere!Scaramouche, Alhaitham, Kaveh, and Kazuha). This is my final fanfic and I really put my best effort into drawing and writing this. Have fun!!! Your choices matter so read the evidences properly and try not to get a bad ending hahaha. (Pls answer this poll after and feel free to send me memes about who you got hAHHAHA)

Unreliable Synopsis: (Danganronpa!Genshin AU) If this is your last dance as an idol, then you do not want it. No. You’ll make the real criminal sing instead.

CW: yandere themes, blood, murders (well duh ansy–), and brief mentions of suicide.

Kazuha frowned. "For (L/n) (Y/n), this whole ordeal must seem like a flawless crime."

"They don't know the murder weapon, the suspects— no nothing." Kaveh sighed.

Alhaitham interjected. "Indeed, but the real questions will begin in a moment."

Words punctured the air in nameless accusations. Each time people enter this room, only distrust looms acting both as a safety blanket and suffocating plastic. You stared at the people left. One, two, three, four, five... You clenched your fist, and all those fingers pointed back at you.

The sixth.

There are only six survivors left.

"Say, (L/n) (Y/n)." Your Akademiyan companions stared at you as Kunikuzushi’s smirk could practically be heard in his voice. "Where were you at the time of the murder?"

You gulped.

The Teyvat Akademiya. Home only to the most renowned student of their craft. The faculty carefully picks out select groups of students to be their new freshmen- and it can only be counted by hand how many had declined such a generous offer. It was a government state university, but it was also a golden ticket to knowing people from high places.

Each student was known for contributing something in their fields of interest. In fact, both your adoptive siblings were alumni of this prestigious school. Your brother Aether was a famous "adventurer" (as he loved to call himself instead of an artifact-obsessed archeologist) whereas your sister Lumine was a remarkable swordswoman with a straight-edged track record. Even your older friends, Dainsleif, and a certain glasses-wearing individual you had forgotten the name of were graduates and now boast incredible resumes befitting of an Akademiyan. Each alumnus you've met wasn't someone any person with a head on their shoulders would dare disrespect.

But that was not the reason for your schoolmates’ evident intimidation.

“Allow them a moment to process,” Alhaitham scoffed. “The Body Discovery Announcement was approximately 2 hours ago. It’s challenging for individuals from the entertainment industry such as them to comprehend complicated matters in a few seconds.”

“I would’ve fainted at your rare attempt at empathy if it wasn't obviously pointed,” Kaveh scoffed before turning to you with a soft stare. “(Y/n), don’t listen to these two, I’m sure we can find out if you’re innocent or not later.”

You gave a short nod of assent.

Tragically, murders had become the norm for college students like yourself. No one has flinched at Kaveh’s grim mention of a suspect lurking by and none had the insanity to deny what had occurred.

It began when you first woke up in one of the Akademiya's classrooms. You stirred awake on a desk near Shikanoin Heizou, the "Detective Prince". He was a famous figure, so you instantly believed him when he said you were both hauled into this location against your will. You were enthused by his infectious desire to uncover whatever was behind the “kidnapping” you found yourselves in. He told you not to worry, that despite the barred windows and inaccessible exits, you'd both "probably" find a way out. As you both wandered around the area, you found fourteen other students (some familiar faces, some not as much). For a brief moment of hope, everyone thought escape was possible.

That was until a certain cold-eyed puppet entered the scene.

A heartless puppet you’re sure was waiting for everyone just under that elevator.

“Is… Is this everyone?” You asked like a mouse, frightened as your eyes darted for any hints of twinned cyan hair. Nothing about your recent behavior had gone unnoticed.

Senior Faruzan is missing…

Yoimiya frowned, grabbing your hand for comfort. “(Y/n)…”

Kunikuzushi scoffed. “Enough of this dumb ohhh boohoo exhibit. Let’s go.”

The most mysterious of the bunch left for the stairs immediately, punching the button on the elevator to its ground floor. Yoimiya huffed, muttering complaints about Kuni’s behavior while the three other men followed her silently. No one took the stairs two at a time and walked at a snail’s pace. A clear indication that no one wanted this to occur.

And just like in the previous cases, Kazuha’s eyes were on you the entire time but spoke nothing of this behavior.

The elevator door opened. You looked at the camera above it. If the Shogun's words are to be trusted, then the outside world is watching your every move like reality TV.

If that's the case, might as well give them a show.

Kunikuzushi stepped aside, royally ushering everyone— and specifically YOU— in.

“Idols first.”

Everyone entered the trial room. If the mood from earlier was tense, it is worse now that you’re inside. Stepping into the cold room makes the situation all the more real.

There is an execution waiting to happen, but without a hint if it’ll be “us” or “them”. Every bright person inside the room here had previously partaken in 4 of these court sessions by force. Since no one can exit the premises nor contact the outside world, the only key out was to kill and avoid getting caught. 5 people had attempted to commit murder, and considering how you’re still breathing, none of the “blackened” had succeeded in getting their way.

How… How did it come to this?

You enrolled in the Akademiya in hopes that you'd also find the subtle clues as to why Aether went missing, this wasn't in your plan.

Getting roped into this killing “game” was on no one’s to-do list. You received an invitation to enroll in the Akademiya because of your stark idol career, although your siblings being famous alumni may have greatly increased your chances of receiving that privilege. You would’ve thrown that paper into the fire if you knew you’d get dizzy upon arriving in the Akademiya and will wake up in such a heartbreaking dilemma. Hearing from a grapevine, you discovered that Kaveh was invited for his architectural drafts, Kazuha for his poems and a bit of swordsmanship in his repertoire, Yoimiya for her firework shows, and Kunikuzushi?… You don’t know. But you are wholly aware as to why Alhaitham is here as your senior— you were there when he opened his letter after all.

The “mascot” is yet to make her entrance. So, as “obedient” students, you’ve uncomfortably shuffled to the places you were meant to stand. Bile rose inside your throat as you looked at the last five students excluding yourself circling the room— with Faruzan’s crossed-out portrait to your right while Kamisato Ayaka’s on your left. It would appear that most of the dead students were on your side and the closest breathing person next to you was Kunikuzushi, who was two photographs away.

Alhaitham, Amber, Tighnari, Ajax, Albedo, Kamisato Ayaka, You, Faruzan, Xiao, "Kunikuzushi", Kaveh, Cyno, Yoimiya, Layla, Yunjin, Kaedehara Kazuha, and Shikanoin Heizou.

The deceased faces had been crossed out in bright violet paint, a nauseatingly unsubtle reminder that only six remained. Yet, the one that was meant to sit towering above was missing.

“… Where’s The Shogun?” Kazuha asked.

“Ah, so you do have a voice. And here I was about to call you a cricket. I thought our poet lost his words, considering how the previous trial ended,” Kunikuzushi mocked, rolling his eyes. “Just wait and see.”

You sighed, hoping it was quiet enough for Kuni not to have heard it.

The last trial broke everyone’s spirits and sense of camaraderie the most. Before trials, the puppet gives everyone an incentive to kill. In the Ayaka-Heizou murder case, each student was given a videotape that raised more questions than answers. Yours was a clip of Lumine, your fellow theater actors, and idol mates congratulating you for your enrollment before it cuts off to a scene of your home burned to cinders. As for Ayaka, hers was a short-lived message of her older brother asking her to come visit the clan for Thoma’s upcoming birthday— before it cuts to a gruesome scene of her brother fatally wounded on their living room floor.

“Find out what happens once you graduate!”... and then the tape ends.

Whoever was the mastermind behind this killing, you had to admit, they were an expert in psychological torture. And unfortunately for everyone, Ayaka was a smart individual— killing the most trustworthy student, Heizou, to cover her tracks better. She put up quite the fight in manipulating everyone to think that you and Kaveh were possible culprits.

You even got into an argument with the calmest person around. Kazuha was “convinced” that Ayaka was right, which led to you two entering an incredibly heated argument that left him depressed with his rejected apology. You were on "good terms" with him before, that being he would always offer to cook food and accompany you often.

… Perhaps that was a good thing. Discreetly, you thought he strangely knew you to a degree that makes you far from comfortable. It still bugs you how he knew you all too well and yet you know nothing about him other than his aspirations: traditional Inazuman poetry writing with a bit of karuta on the side.

Maybe he used to be a big fan of yours? Even so, the foundation of your music, choreography, and persona was weaved through a tapestry of feel-good lies. And yet, he was wise enough to speak your true thoughts before you even hesitated to voice them in your cheery idol tone.

But that’s not the issue right now.

The issue on your plate was that you had no evidence to prove your innocence except for the list of school rules on your E-Handbook because you were convinced someone will kill you during the investigation.

You laughed to yourself bitterly. Might as well review those rules now.

You opened the E-Handbook.

As per “school rules”, there are regulations to be had in a murder game, but none stick to you as these three. Rule #10 and #7: A class trial will commence after three or more students have discovered a corpse, and a Body Discovery Announcement will play as soon as it occurs. However, a trial will be held if and only if every survivor is present; failure to do so will result in class “expulsion.”

And the last rule that never left your mind was Rule #8: If the guilty party is exposed during the class trial, they alone will be executed.

By the end of Trial #4, she did not receive a proper execution. Ayaka was compelled to restore her honor and raised her sword to…

…

… You couldn’t hate her for it. Even though you were close friends with Heizou, you couldn’t hate any of your fellow students. They all had family, hopes, and visions for the future. Each one here was "a fledgling barely out of the nest." You couldn’t deny that you would’ve done the same.

"Since the Shogun isn't here yet, let's get a headstart," Kaveh gripped the court fence, eyeing everyone with a nervous stare and stiff posture. "What's your alibis?"

Nobody raised their voice initially. You cast a pitying glance toward Kaveh. When it comes to your closest friendships, he comes in second only to Heizou. As someone who had seen the horrors of the media which is essentially a mirror of the world's social issues, Kaveh's one of the few decent individuals left on the planet, in your opinion. In moments of quiet, you, Kaveh, and Faruzan used to chat together, with Heizou periodically interrupting to share his findings regarding everyone's entrapment.

Considering how Kaveh is your last true friend left, you volunteered yourself.

"I never left my room," you spoke audibly depressed, no longer caring that you appeared un-idol-like. "And I refused entry as well. I heard a couple of angry knocks at 9:37 p.m., but I didn't open my door for anyone."

You looked at Kazuha, hurt and accusingly.

You'd never forget how Kazuha called you a murderer. That intense argument made up 30% of Heizou's class trial. He lost his composure and called you a "dishonorable monster". The whole back-and-forth was very much unlike him. After the trial, neither of you talked– and you never left your room unless it was to get something to eat without anyone in sight.

If he was the one who killed Faruzan because he can’t get to you, then you’ll…

"9:37 eh? You got a watch now?" Kunikuzushi pointed at your wrist.

You snapped out of your aggression and nodded, which made him break out in a fit of laughter.

"HAHAHA!!!" Kunikuzushi grinned, wide. "Learned your lesson, huh?!"

You scoffed, but your ego was humbled and your heart sank at his harsh words.

Everyone in the room nearly lost their lives because of your time-blindness. It's precisely what made Kazuha suspicious of your motives. You were always unsure of the time, hence, you didn't have the most watertight alibi compared to Ayaka. Before you entered your room to lock yourself, Alhaitham blocked the door with his shoe and handed you his spare wristwatch. He was the last person you saw before your self-isolation.

"Good," Alhaitham said. "And you, Kunikuzushi?"

"Are we going to ignore that angry knocking thing?" Kaveh rightfully asked.

"Let's complete the first task first," Alhaitham answered. "Let's follow the circle; it's (Y/n), then Kunikuzushi, Kaveh, Yoimiya, Kazuha, then I."

"Conveniently putting yourself last," Kunikuzushi snarled. "But whatever. I was napping in my dorm. Woke up when I heard footsteps outside and decided to investigate. The discovery alarm rang off when I entered the nurse's office the second time."

Kaveh fell silent, his face pale.

"I… never went to m dorm that night"

"Oh?" You and Yoimiya curiously said in unison.

"I-I was with Alhaitham, patrolling!!!" Kaveh defended; his arms in the air. "I swear on my life, I was with him! We're probably the footsteps Kuni heard."

He spoke as if it was a good thing with his mouth, but he was whispering that it wasn’t with his eyes.

"Can't be certain," Kunikuzushi threw in a quick grumble and snapped his fingers. “But I think that's probably the case.”

"That makes sense. I mean, if Kuni was telling the truth then that just means there's more chance it's just those two hopping around. Oh, and I was actually on the second floor at the time. I was in the recreational room cause I wanted to get tokens for the cute little Shogun Stall.'' If Kuni’s side comment lasted a month, then Yoimiya's would be a year– but her good cheer is just what everyone needed to alleviate the tension.

"I wasn't in my dorm room either," Kazuha said. "I was in the cafeteria. I couldn't sleep so I decided to fry fish."

"True, I think. When I checked the cafeteria a knife was missing from the shelf."

"We’ll keep your fact-checking in mind, Miss Naganohara."

No soul was sure if Alhaitham was being genuine about it except for you. And the answer was yes, he was being warily appreciative. Admittedly, you don’t know any of these people before this killing game started, except for one person…

Alhaitham looked away, conscious of how you looked at him.

In all fairness, Alhaitham was closer to Lumine than you and Aether, and he wasn’t your favorite neighbor either. As a kid, he was the type who would leave in the middle of hide-and-seek simply because the ordeal wasn’t “stimulating” to his developing intellect. He had a habit of causing uncomfortable situations just to “observe” your reactions with an emotionless stare. Alhaitham had once given you a sumeru rose with a startling grasshopper to see how you would behave, and the worst part is that everyone knows he did these without malice. His grandmother had to force a sorry out of him for your tears to dry. “He probably has a crush on you, you know how boys are,” was the excuse the old lady tried, but your twin siblings were quick to shut that thought down. You and he were simply oil and water, nothing more, nothing less.

But there were times you two got along. When you aired out loud sentiments regarding how stuffy his room must be, you snatched the book he was reading and dashed up the nearest tree. Despite his grumbling reservations, he was thankful that you taught him how to climb that afternoon. That was the first you saw him smile wider than usual and offered to narrate the book you stole: The Little Prince.

However, that version of Alhaitham you’ve come to love remains awol amidst this killing game.

"As for my whereabouts: Kaveh is correct. He and I were patrolling just the first floor and exchanging conversation. Neither of us could sleep. We started at 9:15 and ended abruptly at 11:05, when we, along with Kunikuzushi, found–"

"The body." Kunikuzushi finished.

"Yes," Alhaitham said.

Kunikuzushi smirked. From your perspective, the worst part about this was not Kunikuzushi’s inappropriate smugness, but the look in his eyes that mirrored what Heizou used to have— what your good friend used to be. The light in his eyes, his more forward demeanor, the way he crossed his arms and snapped his fingers– it was as if he was copying him.

Mocking him.

You hate Kunikuzushi. You detest just how much you don’t know why he’s in the Akademiya or anything else about him other than his first name. You loathe how he had made it his job to be the antagonist of every damn class trial. You hate how he looks at you as though you’re beneath him. You despise how much he is willing to withhold vital information till the very end.

Kunikuzushi is like a commedia dell’arte stock character. A Scaramouche. An unreliable servant. You can’t trust a man who said he was moved by your acting in all your filmography only to act like he wants nothing more than to crush your spirits once lives were at stake.

After listening to everyone’s alibis, your intuition screamed from something deep within a place you had begun to trust after experiencing these trials:

Out of six survivors, FOUR of them are hiding something.

“Is everyone present?”

Before you could speak up, a low and refined woman’s voice stole everyone’s attention. All turned to gaze at the long synthetic-haired lady with a katana by her side. She returned the stares with an unfathomable coldness as she strutted to her throne, the silk of her grand kimono touching the floor.

There she is. The lone audience and judge. The puppet: the Almighty Raiden Shogun. Undoubtedly made of metal and not flesh. Xiao had learned that firsthand when he sacrificed his life in an honorable duel against the captor— but seeking freedom by force was of no use when she herself is capable of the murders she wished to witness.

“Very well. We shall begin.”

“W-Wait, hold up, ma'am!”

The last vaguely extroverted cheerleader raised her hand; her bravery to interrupt the Shogun was acknowledged.

“... Can I share my E-Handbook data with (Y/n)?” She asked, high-pitched.

The medical and criminological technology of this era eluded everyone. Trapped inside the Akademiya with no phones or any signal to the outside world, each student only has their E-Handbook to rely on. It contains information the owner investigated regarding murders and records testimonies made by their peers. A handbook is only “handy” for both people who were hoping to survive and those who were hoping to twist the facts.

And that offer is exactly what you need.

“You see– they didn’t leave their room during the investigation period– probably worried that the killer might be after them next and they kinda turned into a hikikomori for the past few days. I’m kinda worried they wouldn’t be able to defend themselves on this trial so… So, uh… Pretty please?” The blonde girl smiled nervously.

The Raiden Shogun stared, calculating.

“I shall allow it.”

“Thank you so much!” Yoimiya tapped her E-Handbook as fast as she could, more eager than you were in watching the loading screen fill up.

(SYSTEM: RECEIVING NAGANOHARA YOIMIYA’S E-HANDBOOK DATA…)

(SYSTEM: TRANSFER COMPLETE.)

You smiled at Yoimiya but it came out crooked and jaded. She didn’t complain that you weren’t at your top form today, but she did send you a loud “Do your best!” in her native tongue.

The Shogun walked to the throne and took her seat.

“Now then, let the class trial begin.”

Out like a bolt of lightning, the doors behind you were completely shut with metal bars in her flick of a wrist. In her twisted form of justice, she hammered the circular surface with her gavel.

“Court is now in session.”

(SYSTEM: TAP HERE TO CONTINUE)

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cyberm4n · 2 months

Note

could you pls do lucifers' oldest daughter x adam, and lucifer disapproves of it and adam rubs it in his face and the reader is innocent and has no idea whats going in between them and is absolutely in love with adam, and smut and possibly daddy kink if possible??♡♡

combined these two cause they work together really well! im so glad i got adam requests cause i am in LOVE with his man rn

cw: daddy kink, smut, readers first time, reader doesn't know of the history between lucifer and adam and i don't explain how, mentions of past tense bad father lucifer, adam is a little shit, not proofread

adam with lucifers oldest daughter reader!

■ OKAY FOR STARTERS

■ if Adam is genuinely interested in a relationship with you, like it's not just to get at lucifer then he's the biggest softy

■ im a firm believer he is a sweetheart in private moments in a relationship

■ to everyone else he's a total jackass but when you two are alone?

■ he's so respectful and loving to you

■ but if you're innocent

■ this man has the biggest corruption kink in the fucking world and the fact he gets to have his way with the daughter of his "enemy" satisfies him more

■ but it does make him feel a bit warm when it becomes obvious just how in love you are with him

■ and anytime you tell your dad about your boyfriend he lights up! so happy his daughter has found someone :)

■ but shit goes down when he asks to finally meet him, he figures if his daughter is in love he should definitely know him

quick recess from that train of thought

■ adam! who's got you laid out on his bed, working his shirt off

■ adam! who hears your little murmur about being a virgin

■ adam! who is immediately rock fucking hard at the fact he gets to take that innocence from you

■ adam! who hovers over you, kissing your neck as he helps you out of your pants, his other hand tugging impatiently at your shirt

■ adam! who can't get over how fucking beautiful you are, all other motives thrown out the window, he just wants to make this good for you

■ adam! who growls when he works a finger into you, feeling how tight you are and hearing you whimper

■ "princess you gotta relax, gonna stretch you out. i know baby, i know. just let me make you feel good"

■ adam! who scissors his fingers in you, desperately trying to make this easier for you

■ adam! whose cock makes you tremble when you see it finally, he's big. i think he'd be above average, 7-8.5ish inches, girthy too.

■ "baby don't worry ill make it fit, daddy's gonna take care of you, okay?"

■ adam! who audibly groans after you don't even bat an eye at his slip up

■ ugh he'd be so sweet as he's guiding it in you, kissing your face, maybe even rubbing your clit to try and get you to relax

■ but just as he's about to bottom out hears a little "s'too much daddy" from you and he swears he could have cum right there

■ if this wasn't your first time he'd be pounding the shit out of you now

■ but he's gentle, at least at first

■ "okay sweetheart, i need more, can you do that?" he'd murmur, so sweet.

■ and then he fucking rails you

■ HEAVY BELIEVER he's gonna try and go atleast 2 rounds with you, maybe more

■ you're just too perfect he can't help it

ANYWAYS

■ so like, you're really oblvious to the beef between your dad and adam

■ like it's just never been expressed

■ plus lucifer doesn't have a great relationship with his kids!! so the fact you've even told him about your boyfriend makes him happy

■ so you go out for dinner! it's a classic! you have no idea why you're boyfriend is acting so weird!

■ what does NOT make lucifer happy is seeing you walk in with adam, his arm slung around your waist

■ he's in denial for a moment, standing from his spot as he meets you halfway

■ "dad, meet my boyfriend, adam!"

■ there's a beat of silence, and you're not sure why

■ but lucifer extends a hand "adam, it's so nice to meet you" he says through gritted teeth

■ tbh both are pretty quiet, only exchanging niceties until you leave for the bathroom

■ adam squeezes your hand as you stand up, watching you walk off.

■ then he turns back to face lucifer, a smug smirk plastered on his face

■ "you motherfucker" "well actually technically im a d—" "shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up"

■ lucifer genuinely has to convince himself not to fucking kill adam right here. reminding himself that his daughter is in love with him.

■ lucifer decides he doesn't have to like adam for him to support you

■ but adam is such a little shit, once you get back to the table he will not shut the fuck up

■ but you seem so happy, lucifer sees the way you look at adam. he sighs.

■ even when adam tugs at your collar a little "fixing it" supposedly but lucifer knows it's definitely just to flash that little love bite he left there

■ and to you it seems like your boyfriend and dad are getting along great! you're so happy

■ at the end of the night your dad pulls you aside, doing the whole dad talk thing.

■ "if he breaks your heart.."

■ but you hug him for the first time in a long time, and he decides he can tolerate this for as long as im happy.

■ your dad loves you, maybe not your boyfriend, but you.

■ and adam.. deep down knows there's a little bit more to his facade. he cares about you, how could he not? this started out as just a way to get under lucifers skin but he's found himself genuinely hoping your dad doesn't try to sour the relationship

■ so when you take his hand as you part ways with your dad he sighs in relief

■ you're all his, and he wouldn't want it any other way <3

taglist: @reaper-of-light-12 @mxxny-lupin @wisteria-songs @t3llas

#hazbin hotel adam #adam smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel smut #smut #dad lucifer #lucifer morningstar

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bonny-kookoo · 2 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐄𝖝𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗 | Teaser

When second chances are wasted, there's only one thing left to do.

Tags/Warnings: Dystopian AU, Werewolf AU, Alpha!Jungkook, Omega!Reader, Angst, Some fluff, romance but he's a bit weird about it pls let him cook he's awkward okay, Violence, crime and.. bad stuff.

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: oh look another werewolf fic oops. BTW if you do not like any of the tags or the trailer doesnt vibe with you, don't read the story. I literally have tons of other content for you instead. Thanks.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

“Do you think that people can change?”

No. Jungkook does not believe that people have the ability to shed their dark desires once they've shown their ugly faces to the world. Once someone has lost control over themselves and their inner demons even just once, it’s over. A wolf's inner beast set free won’t be tamed again, by anyone. There is no coming back from that- and a crime committed has to be punished, especially when there’s not even any effort put into areas trying to redeem one’s self. second chances should always be valued highly if given-

Because everyone has to face judgement for their actions, and if those second chances are wasted, he is the man who will execute the fitting punishment.

Jungkook doesn't believe in second chances.

A man who’s laid his hand on his wife will never truly change his mind and put the shackles onto himself after the line has been crossed. A cheating spouse will not suddenly become loyal as a dog again just because they realize the hurt they’ve caused. A murderer can’t give back the life they’ve taken even if they desperately want to. A young wolf lost to a frenzy can’t gain back their sanity with the snap of a finger.

He is part of the new world’s law.

Violence is the punishment put on people who can’t seem to keep themselves in check even after second chances. Violence is the final answer to the worst of the worst, the people who will never change.

Violence is the thing that changes people- from being alive to no longer being a threat to anyone ever again.

To Jungkook, these people are like maggots, infesting the cities and homes of families who just want to exist and live. Jungkook is the pest control, he removes those insects, cleans out the infestations.

Saves potential victims.

“I didn’t do anything!” the man slurs a little, alcohol in his veins causing him to visibly struggle with his bodily functions, even if he wants to desperately be sober in this moment. You’re sitting in the corner still, watching, well aware not to interfere with a man sent by the people in charge of the wolf’s law to carry out the final judgement.

“Evasion. Armed robbery, twice. Domestic abuse, twice. Attempted kidnap of a child while intoxicated.” Jungkook lists, having memorized what this person is being accused of- or rather yet, has already been judged for in the past. “You’ve shown that you do not aim to change.” He says, not even looking at you once. Instead, he just walks closer, like a predator, staring down his prey. “And now, keeping an omega hostage? Not exactly the actions of a man innocent.”

“I-“ the man tries, but he doesn’t get far with his words. “-There’s- nothing happened- Tell him! Nothing happened, right-?” He asks you, who’s staring him down.

Jungkook looks at you as well now, awaiting your answer.

You’ve got a life in your hands.

Your lips part, but you can’t speak- when suddenly, the man moves again, lifts his hand as he steps towards you, ready to intimidate you into answering if needed- but Jungkook is faster, having seen enough. Even if nothing happened- yet- surely if he was to leave, you’d be another body found. “Where- where are you taking me?” the man begs to know, unable to really go against the hand that holds the back of his head by the hair, fingers tightly dug into the locks to have a secure hold on him as he drags him into a corner or the small, run down house.

In this moment, Jungkook looks like a different person to you. There’s no trace of the man who just wants to help others. The hands that force this stranger to his knees aren’t the same that helped you stand earlier that day, hold gentle and without any intention to hurt. Those eyes are dark as coal, like two black voids swallowing any reflection whole.

“I'll take you straight to hell, where you belong.” Jungkook simply answers the man, before he lets go-

And takes out his gun, to fire the first shot of many.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader

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roosterr · 6 months

Note

Heyyy! I’m not sure if you’re taking requests rn.. BUT if you areee, can I just please get a john price with the prompt “why are you avoiding me?” (Bc I’m a slut for angst) with a large fry on the side? IF NOT I TOTALLY COOL

outside it starts to pour

note: two posts in one month? who am i? i hope this is angsty enough lol, i re-wrote it 3 times bc i wasnt happy with it, its a love hate relationship 🥲 but anyway pls enjoy anon!!!

pairing: john price x gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

summary: in your dreams, you're more than just someone who warms john's bed

warnings: fwb, implied smut but no actual smut, angst, miscommunication (i cant help myself), hurt/no comfort, no happy ending

ao3

"why're you avoidin' me?"

the question echoes in your ears, drowning out the war drum of your heartbeat despite the heavy silence that settles between you.

john has a hand around your arm, gentle and barely there but still anchoring you in place like a vice with just his light touch. the back of your mind screams for you to rip yourself free, get as far away from the familiar timbre of his voice and the near-stifling comfort of his smoky scent as you can before he can get you in his web again. but just like always, he's got you right where he wants you.

how many times have you been pulled behind the door he was halfway out of? and how many times have you been ushered back out again with your hair and heart a mess, just to pretend like nothing happened? always one foot in your little secret and one in his reputation, never fully with you; that's how the captain operated, and you feel like a fool for ever believing otherwise.

a squeeze to your arm brings you back to the present, suddenly all too aware of his fingers against your skin and his eyes boring into your own with an intensity that has your heart fluttering – against your mind's better judgement.

"i'm not." your response is a mutter, your gaze dropping from his to the hardwood ahead of you. it's unconvincing, even to you, but he had no right to question you like this.

"you are." he shoots back, gruffly and without a second of hesitation. from the corner of your vision you see his brow furrow, casting shadow over those eyes that always captivate you so mercilessly.

a sigh escapes his chest at your lack of response, his eyes darting from one end of the hallway to the other before giving your arm a miniscule tug, nodding his head back towards his office.

that's how it always starts. the thought makes your heart clenches painfully. "stop. i don't want to–"

"no." he interrupts firmly, with a shake of his head so resolute it almost has you believing that was never his intention to begin with. your eyes gravitate towards his again, and there's a spark of something, under the surface, when his thumb strokes your skin, dipping just below the hem of your sleeve. "talk to me, what's wrong?"

the urge to give in is tempting, to fall into his arms like you always do, just how he wants, how he expects you to. this time, however, you're determined to avoid his trap.

"it's nothing," you avert your gaze again, sighing in the same moment you take his wrist and slowly pull his touch from your arm, "just leave it."

john tuts. "it's not nothin', though, is it?" he asks, sidestepping into your line of sight again and ignoring the pointed look you give him. "talk to me."

if he cared for you the same way you do for him, his persistence would be endearing, but you know better. you're a good soldier who just so happens to be a good fuck too; that's all you are to him, and that's all you'll ever be.

"i told you. drop it." you shake your head, face creasing into a frown as you turn on your heel. if you have to endure any more of his deceiving sympathy, you know you'll only end up caving to his desires. you're not that strong, and that's why you need to keep as much distance as possible between you.

"you're somewhere else, lieutenant." he calls after you, stopping you in your tracks before you can get too far. you don't bother to turn around, but he continues anyway. "if you can't get your head back in the game, i can't risk havin' you out in the field."

your indignant laugh bounces off the walls.

"it's just that easy for you, isn't it?" there's a lump in your throat as you force the last two words over it, one you hope neither of you will acknowledge.

"and what's that supposed to mean?" he scoffs, the sound of his boots taking a few damning steps closer to where you stand, still with your back to him.

"i don't know why i'm offended, you always do this." you mutter, bringing your hand up to smooth over the crease of your brow, the tremble there barely noticeable but telling of your fragile state.

he doesn't respond this time, waiting for you to elaborate with what you're sure is a glare directed at the back of your head.

"you find something to take, and take, and take from," you spin around to face him again, which proves to be a mistake because the second you meet his concerned eyes, you can feel the sting of tears in your own. "and as soon as it's not useful to you anymore, you chuck it away like yesterday's leftovers."

the silence that follows your outburst is so tense it weighs you down. you can't will yourself to move, to tear your gaze away from him even when your vision blurs. it takes a moment for you to realise just how ragged your breathing has become, feeling the hard rise and fall of your chest over your racing heart as you come down from your anger.

"that… that's not what this is." john utters, his face morphing into something you coin as pity, and it makes your heart squeeze all over again.

"don't. i told you to fucking leave it…" your voice is weaker than before, and you curse yourself for showing this amount of weakness in front of him, because now you know he knows that it was never just sex to you. he never meant that little to you.

by some miracle you manage to blink away the tears before they can fall and embarrass you further. you wait for him to say something, in a painful sense of awkwardness that's never been there before, but all he does is stare at you.

"i can't do this anymore." you whisper, the words muffled through the blood rushing in your ears. you fix him with another scathing look before turning to leave for the second time tonight.

"wait." he calls your name as you walk away, quickly moving to catch up with you, but you have no desire to listen to him, not anymore. he gives you no time to react when he rushes to stand in your path, grasping both your shoulders to stop you when you try to sidestep him. "for fucks sake, just hold on."

there's a conflicted look in his gaze that seems to pull his expression down with it. if you had anything left to give you might've felt bad for being the cause, but it's been months of this game of cat and mouse, and you're drained.

"it was a mutual arrangement," he urges, his eyes search yours, something you can't discern muddying the deep blue as they dart across your face.

you give a watery scoff, rolling your eyes in an attempt to rid yourself of the ache his touch brings you. "there was no arrangement. you're not an idiot, john, you knew how i felt about you."

"what?" he has the audacity to sound confused, and you have to resist the urge to scoff again. "how you felt about me? what're you saying?"

"i think it's pretty obvious by now." you mutter, folding your arms over you chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. he hasn't taken his eyes off you once, your skin prickling under his intense stare. "i'm an idiot for thinking this would go any other way."

there's another heavy pause, john opens his mouth and closes it again like he was fighting with himself on what to say. the way your throat has constricted makes it hard to breath without sobbing, your breath coming out laboured and uneven.

"do you regret it?" he finally asks, his fingertips pressing into your flesh almost imperceptibly, leaving your skin tingling even though your shirt.

it was self-destruction, giving in to him every time even though it felt like a thorn in your heart. to allow yourself to live in the fantasy that he loved you while you were in his arms, just to have that warm feeling shattered when he told you to get dressed.

"yes."

you regret falling for someone who would never love you back.

"it's over. let me go, captain." you whisper, a plea for him to release you from whatever spell he's got you under, even if you don't really mean it.

his hands drop from your shoulders, letting one curl into a fist at his side and bringing the other up to scratch his beard in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture. you know it's for the better, but the knowledge couldn't stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. you brush past him, feeling his gaze burning into you as you lean away to avoid touching him.

he doesn't stop you when you walk away this time.

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #roosterr writes

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midnightfictionlibrary · 9 months

Text

Better Man - Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Content : angst, fluff, friends to lovers, jealousy, sexual tension

Word Count : 2.4k

Summary : Anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever.

A/N : I’ve been reading/watching Bridgerton again, so I had to write for my lovely Anthony. As always, pls like and reblog if you enjoy!

Anthony raised his glass to his lips as he watched the rest of the “eligible young ladies” at the ball circle him, grateful for your presence at his side.

“My, my. It is almost as if you are a vulture's prey.” You tease, fixing a delicate button on the wrist of your perfectly crisp, white glove.

Anthony snorts at your comment. “Please, my lady. Vultures are much more interesting than the ladies circling my person.” He pauses, looking down at you fiddling with your button. He reaches out gently, “If I may,” he mutters quietly, reaching out to fix the offender. An electric jolt passes through you, and you have to keep your eyes on your glove to resist the urge to pull away quickly. You did not wish him to know how you felt about him.

“Thank you, my lord.” You respond, nodding your head politely and giving him a small smile. He regards you for a moment before bowing and offering you his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

“I suppose.” You say, taking on a teasing tone again. Anthony outright smiles at this, leading you to the ballroom floor. It always came easy to dance with you, Anthony realized. It was as if you both could read each other’s next movements perfectly. After all, you had been friends since you were wee babes, crawling through the Bridgertons’ lush garden. You regard him slightly before saying “Have you found a suitable wife yet, Anthony?”

Anthony’s dark eyes settle on yours, and he has to keep from swallowing thickly. Something about the way you settled all of your attention on him had always made him nervous, always making his heart beat a bit too fast. “No.” he says quietly. “None of them are suitable. This is not to be a love match, strictly business, but I cannot imagine any of the women here as my life partner.” He looks down at you again, unable to read the look on your face for the first time in what felt like quite a while.

“Well.” You say. “On my front I do not have any prospects. No one seems to wish to marry me.”

“Why would that be?” Anthony questions, too quickly, he thinks.

“It may have something to do with the fact that we seem to be attached at the hip at every ball we happen to grace with our presence.”

We. Anthony wants to shiver at that word, thinking about you being attached to him was too good to be true. You were much too good for a rake such as himself. His eyebrows knit together and he tilts his head slightly. “Should I leave you here amongst all these people on the ballroom floor?” Now he took on a teasing tone, secretly satisfied that he can pull an eyeroll or annoyed look from your otherwise prim and proper stature.

You do roll your eyes, shaking your head at him slightly. “You leave me on this dancefloor by myself and I have no doubts even the most boring high society lady here would turn their nose up at you.” You pretend to sniff, as if your feelings were hurt. “And to think, I was under the impression you were my dearest friend.”

Anthony dips you slightly as the song draws to a close. The vanilla perfume wafting from your exposed neck and up to him. It’s intoxicating to him and he rights the two of you quickly, clearing his throat as he steps back. “I thank you rather kindly for the dance, my lady.” You nod to him, watching as he walks away with a broad step.

You furrow your brows, wondering why his attitude had changed suddenly, when you are approached by Lord Nikolai Andros, who asks you for a dance. You smile at him graciously, pleasantly surprised that he had approached you, and you would be able to dance with someone other than Anthony for once.

Dancing with Anthony just made your feelings all the stronger, and you did not know how much longer you could endure being his dearest friend. You curtsy to Lord Andros, following gracefully as he spins you across the ballroom. You wondered idly why he so suddenly expressed an interest to dance with you, but it was exciting to dance with someone else. And yet, you couldn’t help but feel guilty, as if your dance card was to be filled by Anthony Bridgerton and Anthony Bridgerton alone.

From across the ballroom, Anthony had his hands clenched at his sides, watching Andros spin you across the ballroom. You were much too good for Andros, and if he was a rake, Andros was a bigger one, known for not being particularly faithful to his late wife.

Benedict slides up next to Anthony, following his gaze. “I say, is that Andros?”

“Yes.” Anthony replies, voice clipped and tight.

“Hm.” Benedict huffs, “She seems to be rather enjoying herself, wouldn’t you say, brother?”

“It would appear so, yes, Benedict.” Anthony replies, trying to keep his voice from sounding too strained.

Benedict smirked. “Yourself, however..” clamping his mouth shut with an innocent shrug when Anthony gives him a look suggesting he could kill. However, Benedict continues on, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “You love her.”

Anthony opens his mouth, then closes it again, his perfect jaw set in anger, denial, or perhaps both. He shakes his head at Benedict, as if to say not here. He knows he has to be a better man for you, but the thought is too painful to bear at the moment, while you spin across the floor in another man’s arms.

Benedict raises his hands slightly as he backs away from his brother, nodding his head in your direction again, where you were curtsying to Andros. Anthony feels heat rise in his chest as Andros maintains eye contact with you, and before he can comprehend what he’s doing, he strides back over to you.

“My lady, would you like to promenade with some of the other young men and women in the garden? They have taken to admiring the rose bushes.” Anthony doesn’t wait for an answer before he gently grasps your elbow and steers you towards the open doors to the garden. Both of you pretend not to feel the butterflies that appear when the two of you touch.

“Anthony, whatever are you doing?” You half whisper. “You did not even acknowledge Lord Andros.”

Anthony leans in and whispers, almost harsh with you. “You cannot court that man.”

You stop walking, pulling your arm out of his grasp. “I do not believe you are the authority on that matter, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Do not use my title because you are vexed at me, little bird.” Anthony says, his childhood nickname for you slipping from his lips effortlessly. You narrow your eyes at him, and he knows that this is you demanding an explanation. He licks his lips and glances around at the other ball guests milling about. None of them seem any the wiser of the tiff the two of you were beginning to have.

“I will stand here for as long as I possibly can. This overprotective nature is not unlike you, but you have never outright sought me out to tell me to not court a gentleman.”

Anthony sighs, starting to become frustrated. “He..is of the rakish variety.”

You snort.

Anthony’s perplexed eyes meet yours and you shrug. “And you are not, Anthony?”

“He is worse. He had many a mistress while his wife was ill in their marriage bed.”

You grimace and Anthony nods almost smugly. “See. You are much too good for a man like that.”

“If I am much too good, why am I yet to be wed?”

“I…” Anthony starts, faltering over his words. He had no answer.

You step closer to him, your voice low. “I will tell you the reason. It is because of you.”

Anthony swallows, looking down at you. You are much closer to him than he usually allowed himself to be, and your intoxicating scent and god, the way the light in your eyes trapped him made him more than nervous. “Me?” he questions.

“Yes, Anthony. You. Every person in the ton believes me to belong to you. They pity me. Oh poor girl,” You start to mock, affecting your tone “that Lord Bridgerton is just stringing her along.” Your nostrils flare. “However, here you are, deciding to marry, using me as a pawn to get these most delightful young ladies to leave you alone.” You feel tears starting to sting your eyes, the hurt of not being the object of Anthony’s affections threatening to spill over. “I am not willing to be your pawn any longer, Anthony.”

Anthony watches your face, devastated as he realizes that you feel the same longing for him as he feels for you. “Little bird, I-”

You hold up a hand. “No. I do not wish to hear what you have to say to me any longer. It is time I retire, anyhow. Goodnight, Lord Bridgerton.” You say, turning on your heel quickly, just as hot tears begin to flow down your cheeks. Rushing out to your carriage, you ignore your mother, choosing to spend the ride home in heartbreaking silence. Your mother says nothing, just clasps your hand gently, which makes you cry all the more.

The next morning, Anthony is pacing in his study, wondering if he should call on you. Would you even want to see him? Should he just leave you be? Would it be better to give up everything the two of you shared so he did not cause you such pain again?

Before Anthony can make up his mind, you walk through the door to his study. His back is turned to you, and you can hear him audibly sigh.

“Benedict, I truly do not have the mind to-” He stops as he turns around, mouth dry. There you stood, a beautiful pale purple dress accentuating the very air of loveliness that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

“Hello, Anthony.” You say quietly, watching as he fumbles, setting his bourbon glass down shakily and coming around the front of his desk.

“You have given up calling me Lord Bridgerton, then?” He asks, his voice sounding strangely strained.

“Yes. I apologize for being cross with you yesterday evening. I just..” You pause, and Anthony takes this as his opportunity to come toward you. He comes close, looking down at you with his beautiful dark eyes.

“What is it?” He asks, afraid of what your answer may be. He was expecting you to tell him that you never wished to see him again, and he would have to accept that and let go of you. He desperately prayed that you did not come to lock him out of your life forever.

“I have fallen in love with you, Anthony. I know how you feel about love, because of your father. But I cannot sit by idly while you look for a wife that is not me. I am going to court Lord Andros, and you will have to accept that, because I cannot allow you to look over me, when all I have wanted for as long as I can remember is the reciprocation of my feelings from you.”

Anthony stood there, shocked beyond belief. You did feel the same way about him. He was not making up the pained look you had on your face at the ball the previous night. He felt as if someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart, and he could hear his ears ringing. He did not know what to say.

“I will take my leave from you.” You say, turning and making your way back to the large oak study door.

Suddenly, Anthony snaps out of his stupor. “No!” He almost yells, quickly moving to place his hand on the door, barring you from opening it. This is the closest the two of you have been in quite a while. Your bodice touching his chest, his nose almost touching yours. You inhale sharply, gazing up at him. “Let me explain my wretched behavior darling, but please do not take your leave of me.” Anthony pleads, his voice dripping with desperation. Taken aback, you give him a tiny nod, still mesmerized by the proximity in which the two of you stood.

Anthony glances at the door, then to your face, and then he gently brings his hands up to cradle your face. Your eyes widen, and his brows furrow.

“I…”He bites his bottom lip, his eyes flicking to your lips before sighing. “I long for you. I long for your attention. I cannot sleep without thinking of you. I cannot read a book or discuss politics without thinking of what you may say or how you may react. I long for your company when I awake in the morning and long after I have gone to bed. My soul desperately aches for you as if you are a piece missing from it. Seeing you with Andros solidified this feeling for me even more. Watching another man take your hand in his…I could have sobbed at the sight of it. You haunt every part of my being and I cannot deny it any longer.”

“Anthony…” You breathe out, eyes roaming his beautiful face.

“I love you. I love you, I love you.” He says, bringing his face closer to yours each time he says it. “I am terrified of love, my little bird, but I love you so deeply that if you will have me, I will spend the rest of my days cherishing you.” He breathes out, as if he had been holding in a breath, and he leans his forehead against yours gently.

You reach up, using a finger to smooth the furrow in his brow. “I love you most ardently, Anthony Bridgerton.”

Anthony is so relieved, he leans in and captures your lips in his without thinking clearly. Worried he may have made a mistake kissing you before you were to be wed, he tries to pull away.

You grab his lapel and keep him close, smiling into his lips.

“Marry me.” He breathes out, running a finger along your bottom lip after you’ve pulled back from him.

“The answer has always been yes.” You whisper back, gazing at him lovingly. Anthony grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead, cherishing the feeling of having you in his arms. He cannot wait for you to be by his side for the years to come. He hums contentedly, hugging you as he should have done so very long ago.

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #best friends to lovers #jealousy #longing #love confessions

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underoossss · 10 months

Text

Tell me – Miguel O’Hara

pairing: jealous!miguel ohara x f!reader

warnings: none

an: had a lot of fun writing this, pls laugh with me when you see the little crossover I included lol. anyway, have some pining!miguel that gets jealous when he learns something from your mission and a pining spiderwoman who gets on his nerves

masterlist

—-

“So, there you have it guys, another fun adventure for Spider-Sting.” You say as you step back into the Society, a rogue Scorpion trapped next to you and your phone help up high to frame the two of you. The displeased villain rolls his eyes and you laugh. “Bye!”

A frustrated groan comes from your watch a second later, and you smile knowing who it belongs to. You shoot a web towards the trap and hold it over your shoulder, dragging the Scorpion behind you on your way to Miguel’s lab. “Let me guess,” You say, pocketing your phone and knowing what Miguel’s going to say next.

“No social media use while on duty.”

“Live a little, babe.” You smile, taking your mask off and waving at Webslinger when you spot him dropping off a villain of his own. “Hosting a live while working won’t hurt anybody.”

The Scorpion is taken away by Margo to be sent back home when Miguel speaks again. “It can hurt you.”

“Aw, Miguelito. You do care about me!” You smile at one of his cameras, hand over your heart, as you pass by on your way to his lab. “Anyway, I gotta tell you something. You’re not busy, are you?”

“When has that ever stopped you?” Miguel’s voice gives away the likely eyeroll he’s giving you through one of his glowing orange screens. “You need to file your report anyway.”

“Say, here’s a suggestion,” You start, grinning widely when Miguel’s no comes from both your watch and above you once you’re in his office. Feigning being upset you mutter, “You didn’t let me finish.”

“I’m not filing your report, pulguita.” Miguel says, not looking at you but lowering his platform so you can step on it. As always the yellow and orange glow of the screens bathe him in their light, making it hard not to stare at his handsome features. The bridge of his nose, his bottom lip, the sharp edge of his cheekbones.

“Worth a shot.” You tell him as you stand next to him and sit on a free spot over his desk. Your friend turns slightly towards you, sending an amused look your way before he goes back to typing away on a keyboard. It’s his way of saying go on, so you do.

“Anyway! The mission started off alright, the bastard almost got me –can you believe he wasn’t amused by my jokes? I mean what are odds he has a stinger and he’s fighting someone calling herself the Spider-Sting– whatever, the thing is I had it like 70%–”

“Seventy huh?”

“Hush! 70% under control and this dude shows up out of nowhere, white suit with like gold moons what worked just like boomerangs? He tries to kill my villain!” You throw your hands up in exasperation at the memory.

“Uh-huh, so what did you do? You brought the Scorpion back with you, so you must have won.” Miguel is still looking at whatever he’s messing with on the computer, tsk-ing every time he messes something up. His tone holds something like fondness mixed with pride, it makes your whole body warm.

“So, I had to tell him, I have to take this guy with me, and he goes I can’t let you do that.” You continue, hopping off the desk and walking to Miguel’s other side. When you lean over to look at his face he looks down, eyes meeting yours briefly, waiting for whatever you’re going to say next. “Babe, he sounded just like you! I’m not even joking; I got it on video ‘cause I was live –as you reprimanded me for– but Lyla can tell you!”

“It’s true.” Lyla blinks into existence over Miguel’s shoulder, messing around with her phone for a moment before smiling teasingly at her boss. “He was all: sweetheart, I don’t care if I sound like your boyfriend, and Sting went–”

“What?” Miguel pauses his typing and turns to look at you. “What did he say?”

“I didn’t tell him you’re my boyfriend.” You wave him off, crossing your arms and looking away; your defenses go up immediately. Despite all your teasing and flirting, the last thing you want is for Miguel to find out about your dumb crush on him. Dumb in the sense that he’s never going to feel the same. “He just assumed you were–”

“He called you sweetheart?” Miguel asks, voice low and turning back to his screens.

“Well yeah, I–” You stop yourself short, glancing over at the tall man in front of you and taking in his stance.

Miguel’s hands are clenched into fists on either side of him, his neck muscles tense from whatever he’s feeling. Both his brows are pressed together in the middle of his forehead and his full lips are pulled down in an upset frown. In a moment, your body lights up as hope settles on your chest. Is he?

“Are you jealous?” You ask slowly, dragging out the word as you tilt your head.

“I think he is.” Lyla blinks in front of Miguel’s face, laying on her stomach, chin on her palm.

“Lyla.” Miguel grumbles which causes her to go away, out of mercy you’re sure. “I’m not jealous.”

“Hmm.” You scoot closer to him, letting your hands fall to your sides. Curious to see where this goes, and because you can’t help yourself, you exaggerate the end of your story. “Anyway, he was really flirty, but I distracted him enough that I captured the Scorpion and came back here before he could give me his number.”

“What?” Miguel’s eyes betray his emotions when he meets your gaze. He’s incredulous at your retelling of your adventure, but even more so outraged at your last words. His mouth is still twisted in a sneer, though at what you don’t know.

“What’s the problem? The fact that he called me sweetheart or something else?” You place your hands on your hips, done teasing and very curious. “You call me nicknames all the time.”

“They’re not nicknames.” Miguel tells you before he can stop himself and looks away when he realizes his mistake. “I’m busy. Go file your report.”

“Oh, not nicknames, then what are they?” You don’t back down, rolling your eyes when he turns his back to you. “That’s it you’re going to be annoyed out of jealousy? I flirt with you all the time.”

“That’s different and you know it.” Miguel says turning around, eyes scanning your face and the surprise that you actually got a reaction out of him.

“I don’t think I do. Why is it different?” You don’t back down walking into his space and looking up at him — damn him for being so tall. If he’s going to act like being hit on (which didn’t really happen, bless his heart) is such a problem for him he has to tell you why. For selfish reasons, you hope it’s because he likes you. “Tell me.”

Miguel looks down at you, his eyes boring into yours in a way that makes your next breath stutter. They’re still guarded but less so than before, and the sliver of emotion he lets through when he’s with you, grows the tiniest bit to show hesitation and nerves. The easy smile you were sporting falters, and your lips drop open slightly when you realize how close your faces are. When did Miguel lean so close to you? Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, and you panic.

“Or don’t.” You back down, shaking your head as you wonder if this was a good idea after all. You decide to lie through your nerves. “I’m just teasing you.”

As you begin to turn your face to put some space between you, Miguel’s hand goes up to your cheek to keep your gaze on him. “They’re not nicknames. I’ve been calling you endearments.” He murmurs, voice low as he looks down at you. “Just like you.”

“You mean, you’ve been flirting with me?” You ask breathlessly, your mind trying to compute what the man in front of you —who you never imagined liking you back— is saying. When he nods in an almost reluctant confession, you roll your eyes. “Then that’s the worst flirt—”

You’re cut short by Miguel’s lips pressing onto yours, effectively shutting you up with a world altering brush of lips. Then as if that wasn’t clear enough for you, he murmurs Shut up before leaning in and kissing you again, a real kiss this time. His hand on your cheek goes to the back of your head and your sighs are exchanged into each other’s mouths when they leave you in a rush. You’re surprised to find the same painful yearning you’ve been harboring for months in Miguel. It’s obvious in the way he deepens the kiss, the way he gathers you into his arms and pulls you closer, in the way his tongue tastes your mouth and leaves you dizzy.

“You were jealous then.” You say when you part momentarily, brushing the tip of your nose against Miguel’s.

“Yes.” Miguel confesses begrudgingly, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“A waste of time.” You shake your head fondly, looking at him with a healthy dose of unrestrained adoration and attraction. “The guy assumed you were my boyfriend, and you know why?”

Miguel kisses the corner of your mouth and lingers there like he doesn’t want to part. His affection is hitting your system like a shot of adrenaline to the chest, you feel drunk on it. “Dime.”

“I couldn’t stop talking about you.” You smile, leaning in to kiss him again. “I think half the audience in my live already guessed I like you.”

“Half the society too.” Lyla pops up next to you, holding up a phone and taking a selfie with you. “Some of which are coming to your lab right now, so…”

You take a step back from Miguel, beaming at the conflicted look on his face. “Do you mind if I file my report here? I assume you’re not busy.”

“Wouldn’t matter if I was, princesa.” Is all he says before he pulls up some feed on his computers, getting ready to brief the Spider People on a new mission. You move to sit on the desk next to him, and smile when his hand squeezes your thigh affectionately.

—-

Let me know if you liked this! Reblogs are appreciated 🥹 motivate an unmotivated writer ✨

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pulguita - ok taken literally it's a flea, but it's an endearment like lovebug for those who are short hence why miguel uses it.

dime - tell me

princesa - princess

—-

#miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x fem!reader

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clairdelunelove · 1 year

Text

Things Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley Finds Attractive About You Pt.II

simon 'ghost' riley x reader, mentions of soap, price, gaz, and alejandro

genre: fluff

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing

synopsis: a couple more cute quirks that you possess that ghost can’t get enough of! headcanon edition!

a.n. was this on your christmas list?? if it was then santa’s back in town babes :P but seriously, I hope that the holidays have been treating you well. stay warm! if you can, pls consider checking out my kofi and thank you for your continued support <3

when you glance at him and smile

you were doing it again

it was the fifth time ghost caught your bright eyes glancing in his direction

and it wouldn’t have come to his attention, after all eye contact was given in accordance to common courtesy if you were discussing matters with someone, but you were lounging halfway across the room

ghost sat alone at the main table

a couple members surrounded you,, occupied in light banter and small talk

alejandro lightly nudged your shoulder, murmuring a casual joke that has soap roaring in laughter

their boisterous voices carry throughout the room which causes ghost to peer up at them

he couldn’t afford to lose concentration,, needing this alone time to debrief about the previous mission (i.e. which formation was most efficient, how many soldiers he still had left, if there were enough food rations)

but

taking a sneak peek couldn’t hurt

fiddling with the strap of his holster, he wordlessly tightens the garment along his waist and watches as the corners of your lips curl into a polite smile while engaging in small talk with the group

he spots soap place a gentle hand on your shoulder, the male twisting himself closer to you, as a way to balance himself while heaving over in laughter at another quip that alejandro shares

before he can think better of it, a ragged breath leaves ghost’s lips at soap’s blatant display of physical affection toward you

fortunately unfortunately his balaclava doesn’t muffle the noise of disdain which causes soap’s attention to snap to him

“somethin’ you want to add, Lt.?” soap challenges with a raised brow, “might need to come closer so we can hear ya.”

soap graces a sly smirk, inadvertently mentioning how ghost was literally the only one that strayed away by being halfway across the room

and soap’s attempt at pestering the other male is glaringly obvious,, especially from the way his hand still lingers around your shoulder

there’s a soft chorus of chuckles that erupt from the rest of the members but you simply await the lieutenant's reaction to the lighthearted prod

ghost doesn’t take the bait though

“I’ll bear it in mind,” he bluntly acknowledges while readjusting in his seat

he wasn’t entirely against the idea of mingling but found that restocking/readjusting his equipment was the first priority

the lieutenant’s casual response leaves the squad speechless,, most expecting him to reprimand soap from the insinuation and their astonished gazes are fixed on him

ghost, however, continues to nonchalantly estimate the amount of ammunition left in his weapons

that is– until a subdued giggle fills the empty air

and he’s aware of that specific sound, doesn’t need to glance up to affirm his belief because it always tugs at his heart in an unfamiliar way

yet, his dark gaze still deviates to find yours

“my apologies. it was just really quiet.”

your voice is meek in comparison to earlier now that ghost’s scrutiny is trained on you and the detail leads to him raising a light-toned brow

the top of his balaclava crinkles due to the action,, a small humane feature that you desperately cling onto

soap also dropped his hand in response to your small outburst and satisfaction creeps up at ghost

he nods once, ease swelling within him at the sight of your untouched shoulder, before returning to concentrate on the equipment in front of him

“yer aff yer heid, bonnie,” soap whispers to you once light chatter erupts again, “I’d sure fix his problem.”

“what’s his problem?”

“the mask,” the scottish male huffs like it was obvious, “it’s always on–”

“I quite like it.”

you quickly interrupt soap’s rambling and he groans upon seeing your infatuated smile and usual faraway glint in your eyes that you adorn whenever you stare at ghost

much like you were committing now

“it’s the mystery,” soap wildly runs his fingers through his mohawk while attempting to explain your interest in the lieutenant, “that’s why the bonnies like him.”

“well,” ghost’s listless eyes reach yours and you finish your confession in a wishful exhale, “I don’t blame them.”

and ghost recognizes the look you’re casting him

that bashful yet alluring glimmer in your stare that has him placing down whatever equipment he was holding so he could rightfully return your gaze

and of course he hears your breathy disclosure,, revealing more than he’d bargained for

but he’s steadfast, not planning on tearing his gaze away, when you abruptly break eye contact with him

ghost blinks– once, twice, three times– upon losing your heated scrutiny an emptiness threatens to swallow him,, his body maneuvering to repose in your direction

legs stretched in front of him, he edges closer to where you stood while crossing his hulking arms

but you’re caught in conversing with someone and his finger taps idly on the table to patiently await the moment your gaze sweeps over to him again

it’s almost pathetic how he waits for your eyes to fix on him

however, when it does, he almost lets out a frazzled breath from beneath his mask

restocking his equipment could wait for another time because you grace him with one of those beguiling smiles that beckons him over– inviting the tempting risk and enticing danger that accompanies ghost wherever he goes

he catches you red-handed when you give him a slow once-over,, dragging your half-lidded eyes across the expanse of his massive physique but finishing your scan with an appreciative simper

and that’s when he finally moves

firmly pushing out the chair from beneath him, his robust legs carry him towards you in a resolute stride

a knowing grin dances on your lips due to his advancing,, the sight as clear as day when ghost shoulders past the members surrounding you

he doesn’t mumble any apologies

instead, he presses himself so close to you that he can distinguish your rapid heartbeat from beneath your fitted shirt and the cadence causes his head to tilt

his ebony eyes narrow upon seeing the growing blush, a shade of rouge, overtake your cheeks and the innocent reaction would’ve fooled him if he didn’t know what you secretly were

a vixen

he dips his head lower and the next words he utters drips from his tongue like smooth ambrosia

“see somethin’ you like, doll?”

your voice

ghost had a love/hate relationship with missions

on one hand, he was going in blind about the amount of recruits he’d lose

It was a constant risk of precious lives, one’s that had family/friends/people waiting for them back at home, with every mission

yet, leading the squad through missions kept his mind still,, rendering him too busy focusing on basic survival than fighting the incessant thoughts within his mind that strangled him during his free time

the loneliness, mental exhaustion, and emptiness eating at him until he could no longer stand it

but there was also you

“bravo 0-7, how copy?”

filtering through the radio’s static, your voice is carried through as a gentle melody in ghost’s tactical headset

the question cuts through the debris that he crushes beneath his heavy boots

he recognizes a heavy exhale from one of the recruits following behind him and he raises a hand to silence them

hearing your voice directions is crucial

but secretly, he’s glad that the higher ups invested in the latest technology so he could hear your voice clearly

especially the soothing inflection of his alias

“this is bravo 0-7,” he replies, never one to delay his responses to you

“lieutenant.”

and he’s familiar with that pleased tone that’s shared in the troop’s comms

the teasing purr of his rank visibly causes some of the newer recruits to freeze in their movements,, mind straying to less than innocent scenarios from the way you uttered it

before he can control himself, he casts an annoyed glare at them that (of course) goes unnoticed by you

his haunting eyes narrow considerably to wordlessly serve as a threat for their childish behavior

“(y/n),” he directs his attention to the seedy enclosure before him, “give me a reading.”

there’s a minute of silence, which ghost anxiously listens for any background noise that indicates if you’re in danger, before your voice crackles, “enemy ground cluster spotted. wiped them out asap.”

“atta girl.”

unbeknownst to him, your finger hovers above the communication button so the shaky exhale you let out from his praise isn’t heard

and he’s aware you had to excuse yourself due to his subtle approval

“target destruction confirmed,” captain price’s authoritative voice reminds ghost to refocus on the task at hand, “heading to the next destination.”

the squad synchronizes their movements to head south, in accordance to the enemies’ location

“where are your sights at, (y/n),” ghost implores while readjusting the mic so it sits snugly over his mask

unfortunately, his finger unknowingly bumps against his equipment and puts the two of you in a private channel

which you decide to take full advantage of

he casts a cautious glance in all directions before gesturing to the recruits to fall in behind him

it’s silent besides the branches that ghost prods away while he trudges through a clearing

steadying the throwing knife in his hand, he recognizes the cool metal while the weight of the weapon is slight in his grasp

as light as a feather

he’s more than accustomed to the ridges, grooves, and feel of the knife,, using it in necessary combat situations

but his dependable grip, the one that’s effortlessly shoved the weapon into countless enemies, falters when you answer his inquiry in a breathy voice

“my sights are locked on you, lieutenant.”

and it’s a line that could be taken two ways: you were watching ghost’s six or you were solely engaged on him for personal reasons

the fact was– your gaze was trained on him

it causes satisfaction,, scorching hot which spreads through him and keeps him warm in the chilly weather

and your utterance is as sweet as sugar that ghost is certain that you spout liquid honey when you part your lips

he reasons that’s probably why your lips are always so glossy whenever he sees you

ghost shifts, eyes trailing to the distant watch tower that you’re situated at, and slowly shakes his head

you were up to no good

“you’re trouble,” he reprimands but there’s no bite in his tone, “be good, will ya?”

“and if I’m not?”

there it is again, the sultry tone that drips from your voice to infer that there’s a double meaning

he halts to a stop, dragging a gloved hand over his face in an attempt to regain his self-control, and fights back a strangled groan

“come here then, pup,” his voice is so low-pitched that it serves as an inviting taunt, “say it to my face.”

and his self-restraint is thinning, becoming nonexistent because of the dangerous game you were playing

the desire to remind you of the high risk that accompanies cheeky comments floods within him

turning away from the other recruits to maintain some privacy, he’s initially pleased when he doesn’t hear your immediate retort

it seemed like you were finally learning that fueling fire wasn’t always the safest decision

but goodness did it create an indulgent buzz

and he curses under his breath when your brazen response crackles through the comms

“you serve our country,” your lips curl at the ends as you breathe out, “I just want to serve you.”

when you laugh at his jokes

honestly ghost wouldn’t coin himself as being a “jokester”

prefers if the other members told jokes to keep the mood lighthearted,, which he knows is essential to keeping up morale during missions

but if the time comes then his quick thinking is perfect for him to conjure up a joke or two

granted, it wouldn’t be the best jokes

ghost’s humor could be described as— interesting

very interesting

and a consensus that the other squad members agree with is that his jokes lean more towards dark humor >.>

like don’t get them wrong! dark humor could be used to transcend heavier emotions and share stronger emotions,, which is especially the case for ghost but they prefer to keep the jests easygoing (for the most part)

and ghost doesn’t really mind when his humor is overlooked in most situations since he understands it’s an acquired preference

but boy do you live to test him

“please? can’t you tell me at least one?”

you were at it again,, forcing your hands together while you conjured up all your effort to make your bottom lip quiver in a dramatic pout

leave it to you to corner ghost in the hallway right when he exited the maintenance room

caught him by surprise too! had to abruptly halt to stop the front of his tactical vest from bumping into you since he almost didn’t spot you because you were tucked so close to the doorway

he had raised a single, sharp brow to wordlessly ask if you needed anything from him,, mostly expecting that you’d usher him somewhere else to gather next mission’s intel

but ghost didn’t predict that you’d practically raced across the base just to ask him to tell you a joke

“just haven’t heard you tell one to the task force,” you casually explained which only added to his confusion

and he doesn’t know what aided in your curiosity to hear one of his jokes since you never disclosed how it had been a topic discussed among the group,, about how hearing a joke from ghost was a rarity

a part of you wished to prove them wrong

so you drew your lower lip between your teeth and dragged your eyes up until they were leveled with his

“please? for me?”

he can hear the lighter pitch of your voice when you’re pleading like this but he remains unmoving,, only crossing his arms to watch the act you put on

the corners of your mouth fall almost unceremoniously upon noticing ghost’s impassive front,, the goal of hearing one of his jokes slowly floating further and further away from your grasp

when you press yourself close enough for him to get a whiff of your sweet perfume, however, he rasps, “don’t do that.”

“what?”

“you think every time you say, ‘please? for me?’ I’ll do whatever you want,” ghost chides while slowly shaking his head, “well, not this time.”

because he knows better than to give in to your every whim– no matter how insignificant it was

it would build a bad habit if he always agreed to taking on your work or tasks,, which would evolve into small demands that he’d be burdened to complete along with his personal work

at least, he thinks he knows better

but then you nibble on your bottom lip and softly ask again, “please? for me?”

and he finds himself huffing out a heavy breath, dragging his gloved hand across his face, and uttering, “fine.”

so he stiffly stands there, lost in thought, until a couple awkward moments of silence pass

by this time you weren’t expecting much, assuming that ghost would rely on a cliche joke to tell you since you hadn’t given him much time to prepare in advance

but his throaty voice knocks you out of your stupor, “what do you call someone who just got run over by a tank?”

and there you go– you had all that you desired since ghost managed to tell you a joke

he observes how you tilt your head,, mind racing in response to his joke before you ultimately give up with a small shrug

his eyes follow the gentle curve of shoulders before meeting your gaze again

ghost figures that he’d answer for you

“crunchy.”

a beat of silence,, ghost glances away

there’s no way he would’ve envisioned the feedback you’d give him in return to his (rather) dark humor but hearing your overjoyed giggles made him think he’d hit the ultimate jackpot

“that’s a good one,” you manage to compliment between your fit of laughter, “I liked it.”

your hand outstretched to gently shove at ghost’s arm,, aware of the solid mass that served as the top of his bicep and you immediately withdraw your hand at the realization

peering back at you, he recognizes the mirth that swirls in your eyes and notes the pride that swells within him

because you’re laughing at his joke

the intensity grips at him,, threatening to never let him go so long as you’re next to him

it’s addicting

he quietly continues staring at you as your mouth curves into a delighted smile

and he tries to memorize the action,, comparing your smile to the brilliant half-moons that he’d spot in the dark skies during nightly missions,, and the sight is almost too beautiful to avert his gaze from

similar to how a person that enjoys art ogles at intricate and exquisite paintings

before he rethinks his decision, he decides to speak up

“don’t smile at me like that.”

and although it sounds like a reprimand, the words leave his lips almost tenderly as he gazes at you

saying “please”

you weren’t typically one to complain about a long, drawn-out day because learning how to cope with them was part of your job

but today just wasn’t your day :(

from hauling extra equipment across the base, getting a light scolding from the higher-ups, and waiting for directions while in the frigid air– it was exhausting

not to mention that the oncoming headache, as well as chills, indicated that sickness was upon you

and as the back of your head hit the couch’s plush pillow,, your relieved exhale was a huge indicator that relaxing was the dream for you

yet, having time to rest was too good to be true

as price ushered the rest of 141 to gather around, there was a debate to enforce lookout duty for the night

just the usual scouting for any navigation marks, ships, or hazards,, which was more difficult to spot in the dark

there were clear directions given to the members on who would be put on lookout duty

and what do you know, it was your turn to lead

so you’re absolutely dreading your shift, desperately attempting to shrug the burden off to someone else

“soap,” you hesitantly call out before the task force members could waltz to their own rooms, “do me a solid and trade shifts with me, will you?”

there’s a flicker of consideration in soap’s cerulean-colored eyes when he notices your lack of energy and enthusiasm towards lookout duty but he’s unwilling to give up his few hours of rest as well

“am pure done in. I can’t stay awake,” soap explains with a grimace, “sorry ‘bout that, bonnie.”

forcing the frown on your face to turn into a stiff smile, you allow him to brush past you while you reassure him, “I understand.”

then you were onto your next victim comrade

“how about you, gaz,” you shift closer to the sergeant just before he leaves, “mind taking lookout duty from me?”

he pivots using the heel of his foot, not quite expecting that you’d ask because you were usually the first to volunteer for the shift, and raises his brows

gaz tips his cap in your direction to serve as an apologetic gesture, “afraid I can’t, (y/n).”

and just like that, the entirety of the squad leaves you standing in the main room

defeated

your eyes catch the burnt-orange hue casted along the horizon, signaling that dusk was upon you and your stalling would be inevitable

with a huff, you’re about to leave the room to situate yourself at the observatory deck when you catch sight of a lingering figure

“lieutenant?”

upon hearing his rank, ghost glances up from his task of dusting off his handgun and crumples the dirty rag in his hand

he’s leaning against the edge of the table, feet spread apart to stabilize himself

his dead-set eyes wordlessly prods you to continue talking and you force down the lump in your throat, “sorry. I was just surprised to see you still here, that’s all.”

he’s clearly exhausted

the usual tenseness in his shoulders has slowly diminished to where he appears withdrawn

yet he thumbs at the weapon’s magazine and your eyes watch as the design on his gloves seem to dance at the action

ghost nods once,, not one for small talk and you internally groaned at that late realization

silence ensues

when an idea pops into your mind– why not ask ghost to take your watch duty?

he’d understand, right?

inklings of doubt begin to gnaw at you but you were utterly desperate for rest tonight and your headache was worsening by the second

“sir,” you meekly initiate before you have the chance to back down, “would you be willing to take my lookout duty shift?”

your voice wavers, it’s blatantly obvious, and the anxiousness urges you to ramble on, “sorry! I don’t usually ask others to switch with me. it’s just been a really long day and I think I could benefit with some sleep. which, now that I’m thinking about it, anyone would benefit from sleep since everyone’s exhausted from the mission but what I’m trying to say is–”

ghost raises a gloved hand

it’s a silent command to get you to halt and he rises to his feet

you note the way his eyes deliberately scan the room before taking a step in your direction

his tactical gear rattles,, the clasps slightly swinging due to the movement but he crosses the space between the two of you with ease

the close proximity is perfect to get a glimpse of his opaque eyes which are obscured from smudged eye paint

tucking his index finger underneath your chin, he lifts your face so you’re forced to maintain his stare, and his pale lashes flutter when he narrows his eyes

“use your words.”

the command is throaty, gruff, and deliciously low

it takes you a second to regain your composure, inwardly stunned at how enticing his voice sounded, and decide to take a moment to gather your thoughts

his touch is warm

and ghost’s gaze was specifically fixed on you

however, his hard stare flickers when your teeth gently tug at your bottom lip while you ponder the most effective way to get your point across

you would need to use your final resort to sway ghost into covering your shift!

“I’m just not feeling the best right now and would really appreciate it if you took lookout duty instead.” you explained in sincerity

it’s a good tactic– great even, but it wasn’t the final trick up your sleeve

but it didn’t matter what you were explaining to ghost (whether you were giving him a half-assed excuse or ultimately feeling unwell) because he wasn’t listening,, too focused on the glimmer that shined within your wide eyes

and the sparkle became more apparent under the dim light

ghost’s grasp tilted your chin upwards,, he’s silent and awaiting your next ploy

he, however, wasn’t expecting the next word to tumble from your lips in a soft, pleading whisper

“please.”

his restraint runs alarmingly thin,, his finger that’s tucked underneath your chin twitches and the desire to encourage you to say it again is evident

“what was that?”

the question is uttered so dangerously low that you gulp before softly repeating, “please, lieutenant.”

and goodness did you look alluring while voicing it

he’s at a standstill

not to mention that he delights in the unwarranted swipe of your tongue over your plush lips,, wetting them just enough to shine

and as he’s staring down at you, you’re peering up at him but he’s so unbelievably tall that you crowd yourself closer

bloody hell

the warmth radiating off your body reminds him of your proximity and before he can fall victim to your coquetry he reels back

who was he to tell you no?

“fine.”

it’s a simple response uttered by ghost that immensely pleases you and you can’t help but wonder how permissive he was about it

“really?” you question, brows shooting up in surprise because it was rare for the lieutenant to willingly volunteer to cover someone else’s lookout duty

he drops the hand holding your chin and nods once

busying himself by rechecking his handgun for full ammunition, he chastises how easily he made his decision

can’t blame him though

ghost would’ve been a goner if you continued pleading to him using your expressive eyes,, the ones that cause his fingers to inch closer to hold you

the most dangerous weapon he’s faced (in all honesty)

and he’d rather NOT be rendered speechless in front of you

he tucks the gun into the proper spot on his holster and turns to leave in accordance to his end of the compromise

but not before he coolly mentions, “you should do that more.”

you’re confused but ultimately satisfied to have finally issued your shift to someone else

head tilting due to ghost’s comment, you decide to clarify what he meant

“do what more, lieutenant?”

“beg.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon riley #call of duty x reader #call of duty modern warefare 2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley imagine #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley headcanons

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tteokdoroki · 4 months

Text

THE PERFECT SHADE OF PURPLE - suguru geto.

✩ — about. “i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.” suguru geto never thought he’d end up here. in a new city with a new job and a new life. he never wanted to lose his little sister to his best friend. he never wanted to replace her. never wanted to fuck someone who looked exactly like her. but here you are, and geto can’t help but want you the same way he wants her. he just had to get that off his chest… ( 11.4K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! dark content, nsfw, smut, hurt-comfot, open ending - video banner ! AITA-verse!au (read part one here !), bakery!au, italics mean the characters are speaking in japanse, situationships, co-dependency ( on suguru geto ), manipulation, gaslighting, praise, use of oni-chan/nii chan/imouto, fingering (f!receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, creampies, bilingual!geto, japanese speaking + fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hehe hi everyone!!! pls im reposting this again :( it was written as a gift for @todorosie and the very idea spawned from her love for geto in my AITA gojo fic !! it’s sort of a continuation and set in the same universe so you might need to read to understand the plot. special thanks to @antizenin for beta reading n helping me come up with some ideas !! enjoy guys, mwah mwah - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

look, i know it’s bad… but my adopted sister and i were always close. she looked up to me and needed me for everything, up until a month ago when she betrayed my trust and fucked my childhood best friend. i got a therapist, went low contact and moved to a completely different country in order to avoid w everything. but nothing helped, i think of my sister every day and sometimes… i picture bad, dirty things. recently i met this girl, she’s the spitting image of my adoptive little sister. they look the same, act the same — i think i’ve started falling for her. i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.

TLDR: i’m fucking and have feelings for a girl that’s a carbon copy of my adopted younger sibling.

the city of new york is meant to be the city of dreams.

at any given moment, your fate can change. anything can happen here, you can make it big and live out your life or you can go home and lead one of regret. suguru geto feels like neither are true for him. the bustling city and flashing lights, busy concrete streets and honking taxis bring the dark haired man anything but joy. suguru isn’t happy here, in new york, despite all the wonders that it holds — irregardless of the grand job opportunity he has waiting for him just around the corner.

suguru geto had the chance of a lifetime to develop his career as a criminal defence lawyer in one of the most opportune cities in the world. his dream since he was old enough to understand the wrongs of the world.

but that’s merely not enough to keep him content, to make him want to stay.

he doesn’t want to go home either, he’s sure he would hate himself for thattoo. it would be a waste of suguru’s talents to return to japan prematurely, with its nauseating air and sense of betrayal that follows him everywhere he goes. home is supposed to be where one is happiest and safest — it’s where his family is, where he was raised and first opened his eyes. but for the lawyer, japan no longer serves to comfort him and only constantly reminds the man of his little sister, who’d fucked his best friend just a month prior.

that very instance was enough reason for him to leave the country in the first place — he had to get out, had to escape the very fact that haunted him day and night.

like any other adult with a shit load of trauma, suguru invests in the best therapist his money can buy — especially now that he can’t spoil is younger sister with it. the older woman with her stuffy office, beady eyes and chipped painted nails had prescribed the man with a short break, a change of pace from the life he was used to, to give himself the grace and time to heal from the heartbreak of losing the two most important people in his life. his best friend, satoru gojo, and his adoptive little sister.

he had no idea where gojo was now, thirty days later, and suguru knew his little sister had probably moved out of their hometown by now to kick start her career. so even if all of that meant that suguru geto could go home…he wouldn’t. he would use the vastness of new york to give himself the breathing room he needed to heal, fill his bloodstream with fresh oxygen so that it would clot and cover up his fresh wounds of betrayal, turn scabs into scars and let him slowly recover.

at least that’s what his therapist had told him to do — in the suffocating purple walls of her office.

yet, so far, suguru’s escape to new york hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. every corner of the city painfully reminds him of the hole in his heart, where his innocent little sister should be. after her graduation he’d planned on taking her here as a reward for all of her hard work, but now, suguru faces his own bitter reality — every landmark has her face etched into its side, skyscrapers and their glass windows refract the light of her smile, while famous dinner spots tie to the endless list of reservations she’d reminded suguru to make. hell, even his daily routine of hailing infamous yellow taxi cabs reminds him of her precious excitement to go.

new york was a city big enough for both geto siblings, but too large for just the one.

it’s a wonder that suguru has been able to live without his sister for this long — it’s only been a month but he’s spent his entire life looking out for her. protecting her. he hardly knows what to do with himself now that he has all this extra time.

suguru knew that she was way too dependent on him, it was bad — he was painfully aware of that. but he couldn’t help it, she needed someone to protect her and nurture her, she needed someone to teach her about the dangers of the world. she needed her big brother. perhaps if the dark haired man had been less protective of his sister and given her some sort of independence… then maybe he wouldn’t miss her so much, he wouldn’t have lost his best friend as collateral damage in the process. he would still have the two of them, and she could be happy with gojo.

the guilt of what ifs and what could have beens tirelessly weigh down suguru’s heart at the thought — he caused this. this rift between the soul-bonded pair. if he had raised her better, let her spread her wings like a free bird, then he would still have her in his life.

at this point, he’s realised something dire. suguru can’t live without her, his little sister. her bright eyes in the morning and the sweet tune to her voice when she calls out for him — it’s weird, it’s bad…how much he misses and needs her. borderlining on strange, it’s only now that suguru realises how unhealthy their dynamic as siblings had been. how reliant he was on his baby sister to need him. it should have never been that way, he shouldn’t need her so desperately to function. keeping her under such a close watch was probably what drove her into the arms of satoru in the first place.

the concrete wilderness of suguru’s new home provides no relief from these epiphanies and the chambers of his heart that slowly seem to be dying without his sister. instead he feels trapped in his own addiction, as if he’s going through the withdrawal after dependency on drugs.

whenever suguru feels immense waves of guilt, like a tsunami that might pull him under and replace the clean air in his lungs with the murky water of his own sour thoughts and emotions; whenever he misses home a little too much; whenever he feels like the world his crashing down on him once more — his therapist and her purple nails tapping against her clip board comes to mind. she tells suguru to take a walk, especially when he’s overcome with thoughts of the situation back in december. when his chest feels too tight and feels like picking up the phone and calling his sister before he’s ready to.

so geto does just that, lugging on his winter coat as he prepares to take a walk downtown while the sun sets.

suguru tends to think that his therapist is full of shit.

she believes in the colour purple, she believes that there is purpose and meaning in concepts like colours that are based on fact and science. the light reflects, and people see colour.

as she had explained to the man in an hour long session just two weeks ago, purple is supposed to be the colour of healing; though to suguru, purple makes him feel sick. it’s everywhere, in the lavander-ish off-white walls of his new york-rented apartment, the flowers in the stalls on his way to work, the skies at night. suguru thought he was a rational man, that he was calm and collected — able to see the reasons behind everything he comes across…but he still doesn’t understand the significance of colours like purple and its connection to healing.

all suguru knows is that he did like the pretty hollow shade that formed a ring around satoru’s bright blue eyes. of course, after having the shit beaten out of him for touching what belonged to suguru. for corrupting his innocent baby sister.

aside from that, tonight’s walk is mostly uneventful, full of couples getting ready for date night and business people heading home to their happy families for the night. suguru despises them, strangers on the street minding their own business. he hates these passer-bys for their happiness, a joy he can no longer experience. going home. it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

he misses his family. the warmth and love from his mother, the poor jokes from his father… the looks of adoration and hugs from his sister. it’s not fair. he shouldn’t have had to give that up because of the selfish actions of his ex-best friend.

suguru decides to turn back and head for his apartment when the street lamps start to flicker and turn on.

however, on his commute, a familiar scent tickles his senses and brushes over his nose. the man finds himself following, enchanted by rich flavours that he recognises from his youth — sweet red bean and spicy curries overlay the city’s natural smells and suguru makes an attempt to track it down. like a fool, he sprints after the scent like a hound dog tracking a hunt and stops a few strides short of a quaint japanese bakery with a set of deep indigo flowers climbing up it’s worn down exterior.

suguru recognises the flowers to be shobu. irises.

standing before the sliding doors, geto inhales, overwhelmed and overcome with emotion. the sweet smell triggers memories of home and how his parents would take him and his sister out to get treats when they were small. how that became a tradition for the geto siblings when they were old enough to go out on their own.

he remembers how his sister would beg him for a box of sakura mochi every time they went, and how he would so easily relent — even if it meant spending all of that week’s pocket money. suguru is so carried away with his thoughts that he hardly notices himself taking steps into the bakery, or lining up at the counter, or you.

calling him up to the counter.

you’re a pretty girl. that’s the first thing suguru notices. your eyes are beautiful, a deep brown that reminds him of roasted chestnuts and warm chocolates, your face is round with a soft edge of youth. the uniform that you wear hugs every dip and curve of your body and the braids you have are lengthy and black, perfectly framing your face. when you speak, your voice carries gentle dulcet notes that make suguru’s heart flutter — like music to his ears.

you are one thousand percent suguru geto’s type and everything about you, this little bakery attendant, reminds suguru of his younger sister.

right then and there, everything clicks into place for him.

“sir, can i get you anything?” you ask him kindly, not wanting to push or scare away a potential customer. nor pressure the handsome stranger, since he’s holding up your line. “sir?” you repeat, finally garnering his attention after squirming under his intense stare.

not that you mind being stared at by him, for this particular customer is right up your alley.

from his milky skin, desperate to be marked, to his lengthy dark tresses that you’re dying to pull at and tug. his jaw is angular, sharp enough to the point where you fear you would cut yourself should you have the chance to touch it. despite the razor edges to his features, he looks kind…almost wistful, at most. a quality that does nothing to calm the hungry flame catching light in your lower tummy.

the two of you remain admiring one another until a customer in the queue clears their throat impatiently — causing both of you to jump.

“s-sorry,” geto mumbles the apology quickly, his pale cheeks tinged with a subtle pink despite how hot they feel. he’s suddenly become all too aware of the line that he’s holding up. one that he’s not even supposed to be in, since he’d walked in here on instinct anyway. his dark, narrow eyes sweep the counter in search for something, anything to order so that he doesn’t look like a complete idiot in front of you or the rest of the customers.

more specifically, yourself.

“i would recommend the sakura mochi,” then, like an angel sent from the heavens, you try your luck in conversing with suguru in japanese. his nervous and skittish gaze shoots up to your face, shoulders sagging in relief and familiarity. you truly are like a piece of home. like his little sister. suguru likes that more than a normal man should. “they’re popular amongst our customers, it’s taken our owner years to perfect her recipe with the ingredients here. especially since leaving japan.”

suguru grins and nods, spotting the dessert he’s so accustomed to buying in the display cabinet. his heart lurches, yearning for his little sister. “these?” he whispers to you, the syllables of his native language curling around his tongue naturally. “they look just like the ones from home.”

there’s a sparkle in your eyes when he responds, and you continue to speak to him in sugary tones. “they taste just as goodtoo, i promise!”

“then, i’ll take a box.”

“how many? they come in boxes of four, eight and sixteen pieces.”

“just the four, please.”

taking your tongs from the metal counter behind the cabinet, you fish out four of the best pieces of sakura mochi and tentatively place them into a pre-folded cardboard box for the handsome customer. as he dives deep into his pocket for his card to pay, you quickly add an extra piece — uttering something about it being on the house under your breath.

the action leaves both of you bashful and suguru taps his card on the machine you’ve set up for him to pay. “ah, thank you…” suguru searches for your name in the candy scented air and you tap your badge with a cute acrylic nail to draw attention to your name which he breathes out in a husky tone, failing to mask its curious lilt as he returns to english.

“no worries, have a good evening, sir.” you giggle shyly, still managing to bid him farewell.

on his way home, suguru can’t help but to replay the entire interaction in his head over and over again. in his brief three minutes of meeting you, you’d managed to fix the hole in his heart, help it beat properly again. you’re just like her, his little sister, and that is a dangerous fact.

he reaches his apartment with a flushed face, feeling a little flustered, but a lot better than he was before the start of his walk.

after work, a few days later, geto finds himself back in front of the bakery, working up the courage to go inside and see you.

no matter how hard he tried and how much of his work he tried to throw himself into — suguru couldn’t get the vision of you out his head. your saccharine laugh haunted him as he reviewed case files, your timid smile chased him through his lunch break and your small act of kindness (speaking with him in Japanese) has him all worked up and blushing by the time he’s able to clock out for the day.

the dark haired man feels insane, he knows that this is weird — projecting the image of his adoptive sister onto you, but like a man on drugs he can’t seem to quit. he needs to get his fix. he needs to see you again. entering the bakery once again is like stepping into a new domain, and suguru damn near forgets his simple plan to talk to you. order sakura mochi, say thank you, and leave. while he waits in the queue, his courage mounts in slow stacks and anxiety fades, but by the time he’s up front and face to face with you again — suguru’s brain is completely wiped of every word he was going to say.

“ah, it’s you again!” you greet him in japanese once more, instinctively reaching to brush your braids out of your face in order to look more presentable to the handsome stranger who’s been plaguing your thoughts as well. suguru thinks you’re cute, regardless of the rice flour smeared across your cheeks and the various mysterious (though surely tasty) stains that decorate your uniform. he even finds it endearing, the way that you share the same nervous gesture of playing with the ends of your braids like his little sister. “i was just wondering when you were going to come in from the… mmm, cold? you’ve been standing and… uh! staring from out there for a while.” you continue to tease the man warmly in his native tongue, choosing your words carefully and avoiding eye contact with him while you prep the tongs for his order. “what can i get for you today?”

so much for not humiliating himself in front of the pretty girl. “i’m sorry… i’ll just take some sakura mochi again,” suguru begins, this time in english to spare you the trouble of overthinking everything that you say. “i was trying to figure out how to do this,” he places a wad of cash on the counter while you prepare his order. your chocolatey eyes blow wide, sweet glazed lips parting softly at the mere sight. you’re sure there’s enough money in the stack to cover an entire week’s worth of your wages and if a stranger can just give away such a large amount… it makes you wonder what he’s even doing at a humble place like this. “it’s a tip from last time. i never got to thank you.”

“oh… i was just doing my job!” you stammer out politely and prepare to reject the tip, but suguru refuses to let you refuse his gift — forcefully pushing the ‘tip’ over the edge of the glass. he really couldn’t help but to give the money to you, hardly fighting the urge to spoil you with cash like he would with his little sister. besides, the man earned more than enough to drop it on you without putting a dent in his pocket.

“you did more than that… just the simple act of kindness in conversing with me, a stranger, in japanese. that was nice of you.” suguru counters. “thank you. how did you know?”

you work on preparing a thin and white cardboard box for his order before walking along the dessert counter, followed by you. “i had a feeling, a lot of people come in here when they’re missing something,” he frowns and your eyes finally meet his. “someone.” you breathe out, quietly. “i took a guess, figured you might have been from japan.”

“well, you were correct…”

your heart skips a beat at the sound of your name on his tongue as he says it. it’s so gentle it makes you feel faint and you’re absolutely charmed by a man you hardly know. “does that earn me brownie points…?” you trail off, wanting to capture his name.

“suguru.”

“ah, suguru meaning…” giving the man a once over, you drink in his tall frame and dark eyes, the small quirk to his plush lips as he smiles at you… and think. he’s the perfect man in every way, soft spoken and clement, even if he did have flaws or a dark secret — you would definitely choose to ignore it in favour of spending more time with him. once you find the word you’re looking for (and snap out of staring at the poor guy) you speak again. “excellence…it suits you.”

geto chuckles quietly in response, amused by your take away. “your name suits you too, darling. it’s just as beautiful as you.”

when you giggle and grow shy at his compliment — the honeyed melody only serves to remind suguru of his little sister once more. in that moment, he feels something bad and almost wretched stir in his gut just from watching you turn bashful over him. a dark thought in the back of his kind tells him to keep you, so that he can see you like this more often. it urges him to make you need him. like he would have with his little sister.

he’s starting to project, he’s sure, but you make it easy for him, with your puppy dog eyes and tiny little smiles. once geto’s order is packed, four little squares of sakura mochi wrapped in emerald green and brined sakura leaf — smelling of spring and red bean, he pays (with a hefty tip) and inspects the box. “you’ve got to stop giving me things for free, darling. we’ve only just met.” he chides fondly, scolding you like a child as if to make sure you won’t get in trouble with your job. he’s counted five mochi instead of four — just like last time. “won’t this hurt business?” he coos down at you — sending your body into a fit of shivers despite the warmth of your uniform.

“well, i’d consider us friends now that you’ve come specifically to see me. friends can’t give each other gifts?” you quip cheekily — much like suguru’s sister would. “you got to spoil me today, no one is going to notice an extra piece of mochi going missing.”

“friends it is,” surugu purrs right back in satisfaction, preparing to take his leave. cautiously, as though not to spook you like a hunter after a deer in the woods — he reaches over the counter to pat your head affectionately, internally pleased with the way you keen into his touch. “i hope to see my new friend around more often, then.” he hums with pride, and you nod your head eagerly.

like a puppy. like you want to please him.

it reminds geto all too much of his little sister — who only ever wanted to make the dark haired man proud.

over the coming weeks, suguru finds himself at the bakery more often than not. as though it’s a part of his daily routine.

he’ll take his walk after work, stop by and purchase some sakura mochi, before leaving you with another little gift. at first, his gifts started out as wads of cash in place of tips, then slowly turned to more materialistic things, items that you could hood or wear as if they were to geto’s his claim on you. like flowers, jewellery or clothes. things you couldn’t afford on your own, things he’d like to see you in, things his little sister would like to receive if they were still in contact with one another.

suguru knows that you can’t afford these things because you’ve let it slip over coffee and mochi that you rent the apartment above the bakery from the old woman who owns it and can barely afford the new york rent as well. he also learns that you were hired because of your ability to speak, read and write in Japanese.

as much as suguru has spoiled you in the last few weeks, you won’t let him pay your rent though, so tips have sufficed for now.

nowadays, the time spent moping around his apartment while mourning the relationships that he lost are spent growing increasingly obsessive over you. hours upon hours are wasted on thoughts of what gift he might buy you next — like more comfortable work shoes, an umbrella to get you home safe during the rain that just so happens to be designer. suguru spoils you under the guise of just being your friend — at least that’s what it is to you.

to him, he’s spoiling his baby sister. someone who is feeble and needs his help and his protection. he doesn’t tell his therapist any of this, of course, she would deem it unhealthy to see how much of his money and time he’s blown in a little cafe worker.

a cafe worker who’s important to suguru, who haunts his dreams with her perfect curves, and pouty lips whenever he brings you a small gift of his affections. “sugu,” you’ve resorted to calling him, just like his sister would. the nickname was the result of a time where you’d written his name on a coffee order, and customers complained you were taking too long. so geto had told you that you could call him ‘sugu’ instead. however, he would omit details on how badly it affected his brain chemistry …to hear someone he cared for call him that again. “you don’t have to get me an expensive gift just because i make you coffee and get you sweet treats.”

“it’s not just because you get me sweet things or make me coffee,” he had responded, leaning over the counter flirtatiously. “it’s because you do such a good job. you take care of me and my order every evening. make sure i get the best of the best. how could i not thank my sweet little barista.”

you wouldn’t say it, but he knew you liked the praise. he wondered if you felt as dirty and as thrilled as him during these little exchanges between the two of you. on that specific occasion, geto decided to gift you with a pendant, similar to the one he’d gotten his sister — only this time, a purple amethyst sits in its centre rather than the blue gem all too familiar to satoru gojo’s piercing eyes.

maybe this is what his therapist meant by healing. suguru is healing by getting over his sister and replacing her with you.

you are the one that haunts his dreams now, makes his cock stir inappropriately. another thing that suguru woulda never tell his therapist — is that sometimes when he really needed it, he would think of his little sister while fisting his cock into the night air. they weren’t really related, only by adoption so it wasn’t too wrong. sometimes he’d think of her getting railed by satoru, but nowadays he would think of you on his cock instead, calling out for suguru like you need him to function.

‘nii-san!’ - this and ‘please sugu! ’- that, each word uttered in his sister’s voice would quickly morph into yours — the quivering sweet sound always resembling his little sister’s when she cried. suguru, the dark haired man, imagined you would react the same. and more often than not, it was your face that he pictured when he was about to cum.

every single gift suguru got for you were the result of him dreaming about how much he needed you, someone to spoil and protect. someone to need him.

tonight, suguru is a little late for his daily visit to your bakery.

tonight, an important case at his firm had rolled in at the last minute and required attention before a preliminary hearing — but even his job couldn’t keep suguru geto away from you. when he arrives at the bakery, you’re still there, having left the doors unlocked for him to come inside.

tonight, there is no long line of customers out the door to build up the anticipation between you both, the lights have already been deemed and there’s not a trace of life inside of the bakery. aside from yourself, of course.

tonight, you’re on the closing shift instead of the owner’s grandson, choso. who you reassured suguru you weren’t interested in the first time they’d met. with gentle eyes that masked the dark haired man’s fury, geto had told you that he was the only man you’d ever need and you believed him — suguru had a charm for making people dependent on him.

the tiny silver bell stationed at the door jingles and signals geto’s arrival, but you hardly look up from your work — keeping your back to him while you sweep at nothing. you’re hiding the excitement that prickles down your spine, you’ve been waiting to get the man alone for weeks and now that you’re able to… you can hardly contain yourself.

“excuse me, uh…” he says your name so sweetly, as though the words on his tongue are laced with honey. pretending not to know you only makes tonight more thrilling. “are you open? do you have any sakura mochi to spare?” it’s only then that you whirl around to face suguru, your deep brown eyes still bright despite the dimness of the empty bakery — they sparkle with elation, and the plump curve of your lips spike up into an easy smile. you’ve been waiting, suguru notes, like a good little girl.

like a puppy waiting for her owner.

you’ve been waiting to see him.

anticipation claws at the air, sending ripples of kinetic energy into the space between you both — where suguru waits at the door and you stand front and centre in the middle of the room. his murky eyes slink down to your neck where one hand fiddles with the silver chain of your pendant, your nails tapping at the amethyst in its centre. in the same way his sister does when she’s nervous.

neither of you know what’s going to happen tonight, now that you’re finally alone.

“we have some in the back,” you swallow down the heartbeat in your throat you nod shyly when you finally speak. it’s weird how your body has started to react to suguru after weeks of getting to know him, being spoiled by him. the clothes you wear are now covered in traces of him, the jewellery you own is paid for by his dime. this…stranger, who you hardly know yet feel like you know everything about, has invaded every inch of your life… and you’re not even mad about it. you’d rather die than let this go. “i just need to lock up first. if you’ll give me a moment.”

you approach him cautiously, practically pressing your breasts against his chest as you reach behind the man to lock the doors he stands in front of. suguru can already tell that the mood today is different — full of hunger and expectations for something less polite than evening chatter and gift exchanges. his dark eyes follow your every move across the bakery like a wolf tracking the scent of prey.

“why don’t you come with me to the back? and if you don’t mind, could you carry a bag or two of that rice flour? it’s too heavy for me on my own?” you ask him after backing away with a glint in your eye. naughty, naughty. geto likes the fact that you’re asking him, that you need him and he can be your strong suguru.

“sure, anything for you.” he agrees a little bit too quickly, removing his work jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. suguru discards his tie as well — before lifting a sack of rice flower with ease. he pretends not to notice the way you ogle the bulge in his biceps as he does so.

“thanks.” you utter, leading the way to the back of the bakery.

once the two of you arrive in the kitchens at the back, you give suguru some time to set down the sacks of flour and retreat to the many shelves of sweet treats and baked goods that you’d prepared for your shift the next day. you’re sure choso, nor his grandmother, would mind if you stole a plate of mochi for the two of you to share. they trusted you enough, but you decide to forgo telling them for now.

“i was starting to think you weren’t coming.” you say as you set the desserts out on the metal table for him, suguru hates the guilt that he feels for leaving you for so long. “seeing you is the highlight of my week.”

“are you sure it’s not the gifts that i give you?” he teases, rounding the table to take a piece of mochi from the plate at its middle. he practically moans at the flavours of cherry blossom and crystallised sugar bursting across the palette of his tongue. and for a moment, his mind slips to other territories — wandering what you’d taste like as well.

“n-no! sugu!” for the first time that night, you break character, bashfully tucking your pretty face into your shoulder as if to hide it. “i, um… i genuinely like seeing you and when you come to see me. i-it makes me feel better. being around you. i feel safer and happier.”

putting his weight onto the metal surface, suguru leans forward and cocks his head to the side in faux curiosity. your answer is just what he wanted to hear. he finally has you where he wants you, like a sweet deer in a hunter’s trap. “is that so, darling?” you shake your head yes in affirmation. “well then, you’re awfully sweet.” geto takes to praising you, licking the traces of candy from his lips and maintaining eye contact while his hand dips into the pocket of his slacks for something. “i have a gift for you, little one.”

“oh yeah?” youtoo, take a bite out of the treats you’ve laid out, munching on them casually while keeping suguru under your watchful eye.

it’s only then that pulls out a matching item of jewellery, this time, a matching anklet to the item that sits heavy at your neck. the silver chain is dotted with tinier, purple gems. a showcase of suguru’s appreciation for how much you’ve healed him — a nod to how much better he feels around you too.

“you sure do love purple for me, sugu.” you joke, laughing incredulously at the expensive gift. “it’s beautiful, thank you.” you let him circle the table to take hold of your soft hips, lifting you onto the cool surface so that geto has some leverage to put the anklet on you.

after kicking out your left foot — suguru sinks to his knees before you, and something about the way he looks up at you, with his eyebrows drawn to the centre of his forehead and his milky cheeks slightly flushed, has your heart racing and your head all dizzy. “purple is supposed to mean healing. i’ve had a tough time, being away from japan and my family…” he begins quietly, his voice is calming with lilts and drops of hunger that slips through the cracks of suguru’s caring resolve. “but you’ve made it better,” one of his large hands encircles your ankle, lifting your foot higher so that geto is easily able to remove the strap of your mary-jane shoe and replace it with the chains of your new anklet. “ah… a perfect fit.” he announces in japanese, fixing the clasp.

the whole ordeal is intimate, inviting and you feel like you might slip under the surface of dark, dangerous waters if you’re not careful. you don’t know how to swim, but something tells you that suguru will keep you afloat. “anyways, little one…” suguru continues with his monologue, whispering his words against your talus bone at the base of your leg, where it meets your foot. “you wanting me here and needing me… it heals me.”

once he’s checked that the anklet is secure, suguru reaches a hand upwards, and brushes a thumb over the swell of your glossy bottom lip to swipe away a smudge of powdered sugar from the mocha. you will yourself to speak, but you feel as though you can’t even breathe. “i’ve…healed you?”

suguru stands up, towering over you now as he moves to suck the sugar from your lips off of his thumb. “of course, little one. what else do you think you’ve been doing this whole time?” his pupils dilate, obsidian black drowning out any other colour in his eyes while closes the gap between your heated bodies. your thighs instinctively jump apart to make room for him too, allowing him to loom over you even better — following the biological call of your hearts.

the world comes to a standstill when suguru’s lips finally meet yours in a sloppy yet coordinated kiss. while his movements are messy and hungry he remains gentle with you, as though you might break from too much force. the sweltering heat of his tongue swipes eagerly but not aggressively over the seam of your mouth, dying to be let in and taste the sugar that glazes your own pink muscle. his large, unusually soft hands grasp, and squeeze and pinch at your thighs, then the fat at your hips until his thumbs are tucked under your breasts, soothing circles over the point at which the fleshy mounds join up with your rib cage.

goosebumps break out across your skin from underneath your clothes and you feed suguru a needy little squeak when he finally breaks into your mouth, his tongue lapping circles at every crevice. you sound just like her, his angelic little sister, and he treats you so gently because he would never want to hurt her. suguru has always wanted to kiss his sister, but you’ll have to do. he likes you just as much as her.

it’s that sick and twisted desire to devour his younger sibling that fuels his next movements, along with the dulcet and darling sounds you make for him. carefully and between sticky lip locks, suguru pushes you onto your back — humming in amusement when it arches away from the cool metal of the silver counter. “s-sugu,” you whimper wetly, catching your breath while his smooches cascade down to your neck and his fingers work their way through the buttons on your uniform. your own take residence in his firm and broad set shoulders, as if to steady yourself. “i haven’t… i don’t have much experience with these things a-and they’ve not been the best—“

the dark haired man chuckles softly, the sound sending a spark of lust down your spine and causing you to arch up into him as he cages you against the table. “i’ll be gentle,” he tells you firmly, in a tone that smooths over the doubts in your mind and helps you to relax. suguru will take care of everything. “you don’t have to worry. i want this to be all about you feeling good, okay?” you nod in reply and suguru sucks his teeth. “i want a verbal answer, little one.”

“yes, sugu…”

he places a chaste kiss to your collarbones then, a pleased hum vibrating against your temperate skin. “good girl.”

the next few moments are a blur as suguru geto strips you down, kissing every inch of your exposed body with each article of clothing he removes from your shaky frame. all that he leaves you with are your soiled panties after reaching around the curve of your spine to unclip your bra with one hand. it’s all so nerve wracking and invigorating all at once, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for more.

between the chaos and rustling of his own clothes coming off, suguru presses two digits to your budding clit and your world tilts on its axis — he’s hardly touching you and yet you feel so good, especially when he rolls the swollen little nub between a thumb and forefinger. your nails form crescent moons against his shoulder in response.

you’re so overwhelmed by the patterns he traces over your clit, his name, his promises to you and your body, as well as the blood rushing to it — that you hardly notice geto’s descent on your body, the hot trail of kisses he leaves between the valley of your breasts and over your soft tummy. you just about manage to feel him over the haze in your brain when his lips hit the scalloped edge of your panties, and you jolt when the tip of his tongue forcefully traces the outline of your un-used, soaked hole from over the gusset of said garment.

the fabric darkens as your juices pool against it, mixed with the wetness of suguru’s tongue.

“will you let me pleasure you, little one?”

it’s not like you can say no (not that you want to), especially with the way geto manoeuvres your thighs to hang over the backs of his strong shoulders as he settles between your trembling legs. while he waits for your reply, he takes your wrist into his grasp and pulls one of your silk scrunchies from it — using it to tie back his luscious black hair.

you look down at him through your lashes with a painted expression of want and worry.

suguru pushes the pads of his thumbs into the globes of your ass against the cold table — massaging the flesh with mischievous eyes as your pussy gushes and leaks a fresh wave of nectar right down to the puckered ring between your ass cheeks. “just tying my hair back as a precaution,” he whispers, voice lowering an octave as his face slowly nears your clenching cunt. “i’m a messy eater…”

“a-ah! sugu!”

at first, suguru delivers a single lick to your awaiting pussy, drawing a stripe with his tongue between the length of your fat and sluice folds. then, when you cry out his name he can’t help but to latch his heated mouth onto your unattended sex, chuckling at the realisation of just how good you taste. it’s a natural flavour, with a twinge of sweetness suguru could have only hoped to imagine. he’s been waiting for this moment and to have you like this for weeks — to replace his prior daydreams of fucking his baby sister with you…and now he finally has the material to do so.

a sinful giddiness infiltrates geto’s bloodstream as he kitten licks at your pulsating mound — feeding in your arousal as it grows before inhaling deeply, nastily taking in your scent so that he can commit it to memory. “how does that feel?” he coos his words out as he hungrily nips at your sopping folds, rolling them raw between rows of perfect white teeth until you’re choking on a breath and your face scrunches adorably. “is that nice, love?”

a wet whimper lies on your kiss-swollen lips, and your hips naturally buck up to follow the warm trace of suguru’s mouth encompassing your sex. “f-feels so good! b-better than i… could have imagined,” you struggle to get out, gargling on each syllable while your chest heaves and arches away from the chilly table — giving suguru the perfect view of your bouncing breasts and only motivating him to pleasure you more. “f-fuck!”

if you were his baby sister, suguru isn’t so sure that you’d curse in front of him. she wouldn’t, she was too docile and sweet to utter a bad thing in his presence. but you, you’re both of those things and more — you lose yourself easily to the ecstasy in your veins; liquid pleasure spewing from your blistering hot cunt like a free-flowing river, painting suguru’s high cheekbones with your body’s riches. he feels blessed to be between your thighs, defiling the blossoming flower of your cunt with his eager mouth.

“you’re so…you’re so pretty when you gush like this for me. i want you to give me more.” his tongue darts along the length of your weeping slit, catching what you leak before it can go to waste on the icy table beneath your hot skin. drunk on your taste, suguru forces his flexible tongue past the tightness of your fluttering entrance. “can you do that for me?” he mouths, though whatever he says is slurred as he slowly begins to tongue fuck you.

“a-anything,” you say, breathing shallow and eyes beginning to grow teary. suguru’s tongue slips in and out of your creaming hole with rhythm, preparing you, using a pseudo sensation, for his fat cock. “anything for you! i wanna feel good for you. wanna please you!” he languidly strokes at your ribbed insides as a reward, chasing your honey nectar taste while your hips canter up and chase bud hismouth.

suguru intends to destroy you, own you and unleash all of his darkest fantasies onto you. he’s dreamed of ruining his adoptive little sister, making her cum all over him — it just so happens that you look and sound like her, you match every single one of his dreams about her, you make them all a reality. it’s only right that he pleases you and makes you see stars for needing him and relying on him so well.

he wonders if his sister would cry like you do, or if she would try to stave off her orgasm like you do. would she scream his name over the saliva pooling on her tongue like you do. eyes in the shade of deep, chocolate brown start to flutter shut at the sound of your desperate pleas as you writhe under suguru’s attention of your swollen pussy. your back sticks to the table and your thighs shake either side of suguru’s head, but he doesn’t relent on sucking the juices that cling to your pussy lips until all he can breathe is you.

his tongue twists happily against your lush walls, grasping at the essence that lines them.

“you’re doing well for me, little one, so well…” he praises you, knowing how close you’re getting. it’s in the way your body twitches with every suck to your hardened clit and the way you try to push him off of you. you need it so bad, you need him to make you cum. suguru thrusts deeper, harder and faster using his tongue — catching what dribbles from your tiny hole after it slips between your ass cheeks and pools in a puddle on the table. “i want to taste it. if you’ll cum for me, that’ll make me happy. so let me…”

suguru can’t even finish, dizzy on the taste of you like the buzz of a high. he could spend an infinite number of days between your legs. no matter how sore his knees get from kneeling between them — all he wants to do is slurp down everything that you give him, focus on making you reach pleasure of only heavenly limits in order to evade the guilt he feels. the one that causes knots to twist in geto’s stomach.

how could he do this?

how could he want this?

to fuck someone so reminiscent of his little sister.

to manipulate them into fucking him?

suguru’s name is hot on your lips, spiralling into the husky evening air. “come on, little one. cum for me,” meanwhile, his breath on your cunt makes your hips wiggle and hole spasm — a new wave of juices staining his face. it’s scent and taste coax the man into diving back into your sopping heat, the point of his nose bumping against your pleasure nub as if peeks out from beneath its hood.

“m-mph… m’kay,” comes your hushed whisper as you thread your fingers through the black roots of geto’s hair, keeping him pinned to your precious creamy core as you rut against his agile tongue. “f-feels funny!” you gasp and warble, filling the man’s mouth with your raw folds and liquid lust.

“hm?” geto hums lazily in acknowledgment, licking up to your clit so that he can replace his tongue with two digits. he works at your dripping hole, stretching it over them through the haze in his mind. he swoons at the thought of replacing those same digits with his cock next — they speed up with excitement, squelching and echoing throughout the room, overlapping with your high pitched breathy moans.

with your heart rattling against your ribcage, you can hardly fight off the urge building within your lower belly — your hips are frantic as they chase after the feeling and the burning high that crackles across your neurons. geto groans wickedly, feeling your sex spasm against his soaked lips and clench down hard on his fingers. it’s not long before he feels you succumb to your first orgasm. it washes over him in heavenly waves — clearing away his guilt and desire for his little sister while simultaneously drowning you under sinful pretences.

your entire body is racked with the case of the shakes, your eyes shooting back into the dark depths of your skull while white noise fills your ears and overlays the sound of suguru lewdly slurping at your release. speaking off, clear streams of your arousal spurt from your quivering cunt…and for the first time ever, you squirt. everywhere, all over the place, making such a mess that suguru is left gargling over everything that you give him and there’s a crude splatter as your juices hit the floor.

he doesn’t stop, however, licking you clean with his fingers continuing to curl languidly against your g-spot — over and over again.

“sugu p-please! s’too much,” you plead in the form of a heavy sob — but only god knows that you don’t want the man to stop.

“just one more for me?” he asks you tentatively, releasing your throbbing clit with a wet pop. suguru stands and you look up at him — noting the way his bangs stick to his cheeks from how wet you’ve gotten him. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers in and out of you either, dragging the tips of them along your overstimulated and stretched walls. “you can do it, and if you can i’ll reward you. how does that sound, little one?” he slows his pace just enough to only have the seat of his palm salaciously grind against your clit, not wanting to hurt you.

he wouldn’t want to hurt his adoptive sister if he ever had the chance to get her spread open like this.

your face is stained with mascara, your brown eyes big and wobbly and your braids are askew — but still, you’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, next to her. your fingers threaten to snap shut around his wrist, but with his free hand he forces the wet and doughy flesh back open, and with a few more thrusts if his fingers, nice and tantalisingly slow, you’re cumming again in another cute, clear stream — dowsing suguru’s hand in another wash of your cum.

leaning down, suguru’s lips tainted with your arousal lean down to meet your own — capturing them in a sweet kiss to help bring you back down to earth. “what’s your colour, darling? red for bad, yellow for okay and green for good. how do you feel?”

“g-green,” you mumble, keening into his touch and craving his affection. “i feel fine, my legs won’t stop shaking. i’ve never cum like that before…”

pride blooms like a wildflower in suguru’s chest.

“well, i don’t intend on stopping, little one,” brushing your braids back into place, suguru carefully pulls his fingers out of your stretched hole and swiftly sucks them clean. “your pretty pussy is so tiny, must not have been used properly,” the vulgarity of his words have you arching for more from suguru, and you’re lucky that he’s not done with you yet. “don’t worry, love. i’ll fix that.”

you’re weak in the knees when suguru manhandles you from the table onto the floor, making sure that you’re comfortable on your tummy — he even goes as far to nestle a bag of rice flour under your hips. you pretend not to notice the way his strength makes you flutter around nothing, smearing your juices onto the bakery floor.

“i’ve been holding back quite a bit,” he murmurs against your naked shoulder blades — the dark tresses of his hair tickling your skin. “so i might not last long.” you hear a belt clink before suguru kicks his slacks off and away, rewarding your patience with a kiss against your spine. “i hope it’s okay if i just give you my all.”

from this position, it’s easy for suguru to picture his younger, adopted sister instead of you — he’s dreamed of having her present for him like this countless times, but it doesn’t compare to the way it feels having your hot body underneath him like this. your ass is so soft and pliant in his hands as he drags your hips up a little higher. another hand grasps at the hardness of his cock that’s been dripping and aching ever since geto first got his mouth on you.

with stuttering hips, he positions himself at your needy entrance, chuckling in approval when you attempt to wiggle back on him — just as hungry for this as your lover is. both of you hiss as his veiny shaft comes into contact with your sticky folds, suguru using the remnants of your orgasms to slick himself up again and make it easier for you take all of him. you can’t see him, but the dark haired man’s cheeks are tinged pink with pure desire — his gaze turning woozy as he looks from your gaping hole to his cockhead, tapping it against your souse entrance a few times for good measure.

fuck a condom, he thinks, if given the opportunity — he would have fucked his sister rawtoo.

“whatever you give me, i-it’ll be enough for me, sugu,” you sniff, fisting the floor in anticipation — laying your hot, tear streaked cheek against its cool surface. “t-thank you for treating me so well.”

“i promise,” geto heaves, words a little too rushed and eager. “i’ll make you feel so good, so fucking…h-hah—“ without warning, he thrusts all the way inside of you with his hips driving all the way forward until his pelvis is flush against the curve of your ass. geto is chubbier than you thought he would be, and just the right length — plugging you full. every vein wrapped around his shaft presses up against your most sensitive pleasure spots, and he’s weighty against your gummy unused walls.

suguru’s breath prickles at shell of your ears as he collapses on top of you, all of his weight keeping you pinned to the cold hard floor. “can i move?” he lets out a wavering gasp, fighting the instinct to fuck down into you. your cunt ripples around him deliciously, the heat from your body making him drowsy. “you need to be fucked, little one. need someone to stretch out your tight pussy… i can do that for you. if you let me…”

he hates the part of his brain that wonders if his baby sister was this tight when gojo fucked her.

“i want you to,” you slur gently, purposely squeezing down on the base of suguru’s cock and practically creaming around it. you wriggle back on him until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you — balls deep while you ooze against his pelvis and heavy balls. “need you to fuck me…”

that’s all it takes for your stranger turned lover to give his all to you. he drops his sweaty chest to your back, pulling his chubby cock from the snugness of your heat as his teeth take purchase in your shoulders — leaving a litter of love bites your uniform will barely cover once the night is over. suguru is possessive of his belongings, like you and his little sister — the bites are his claim on you.

in one powerful move, you’re full to the brim with rock hard cock — deep in your guts, churning them up and spreading lust like a wildfire through your weak body. you feel dwarfed underneath him. despite being pinned to the floor, you still manage to rock your hips back against suguru and suck more of him into your cute, quivering cunt. it just about helps him set a steady stream to his meaningful thrusts.

wet slapping sounds echo throughout the back room of the bakery, accompanied by your meek mewls and gasps for air the faster suguru pounds into your warmth. fat droplets of precum smear along your soaked and ripe insides, ready to be bred by suguru. ready to be marked by him. you feel like you belong to him like a treasured pet and you don’t even mind it. your pussy blossoms for him like that of a japanese cherry blossom in the spring time — or iris flowers, shobu, in their iconic shade of purple. like the bruises he’s left on your back.

oh, you’re just perfect for suguru. you fulfil all of his sister-fucking fantasies, even your moans sound like hers when she would get off in her room — thinking no one could hear her. he loves this, he might even love you — the way you feel wrapped around him, reaching for the stars in your eyes. it feels like you’re made for him, with the way you clamp down on his oozing mushroomed tip and squirm about underneath him.

your pussy barely lets go of geto when he draws his hips back, but every time he fucks down into him — your fluttering hole stretches to accommodate his creamy thickness. it creates the perfect pathway for the dark haired man to bully your g-spot in a way that makes you scream for more. “you’re perfect for me…fuck, you’re so perfect,” suguru intimately whispers into your skin from behind, his hands smoothing over yours as you claw at the floor to ground yourself from the overwhelming ecstasy. he thinks he understands why satoru had fucked his sister now — there’s something so satisfying about corrupting someone. taking their innocence with your dick. “should i keep you like this? on my aching cock forever?”

“y-yes please!” you squeal, succumbing to your body’s biological will, cunt spitting droplets of arousal all over suguru. he’s barely able to pull out of you, his dick on lockdown inside of your core. there’s hardly any space between you both any more, the air vibrating with electrifying lust and the scent of sex.

you coo and cry out for your newfound lover, your ass and the backs of your thighs burning from how hard his skin slaps against your own. you hardly care about the pain for its overlapped with ecstasy like sea water on a sandy shore. “you’re such a good…good fucking girl for me. for your big brother,” suguru loses track of his words, his mind lagging behind his mouth and his hips that relentlessly pound you into the ground. over the sound of sex you think that you’ve misheard him, but then his voice rises an octave and in volume as he continues to moan out your praises — succumbing to your gratifying and ichorous cunt latching onto the veins spiralling around his dick. “oh my precious little sister… taking me so fucking well—!”

in that moment, all of the guilt suguru has ever felt for leaving his sister, for ruining her relationship and fleeing to new york, for thinking of her while fucking you… it all comes rushing back. he stops thrusting, freezing in place above you while his cock twitches along your insides.

“f-fuck i—“ he starts to apologise, but the cry you let out stops him.

“nii-san,” you whine petulantly, fat tears gathering in your lash line. “d-don’t stop! please keep fucking me, fuck me harder. make me cum, make me scream, make me—!” your words are cut off by suguru’s fingers wrapping around your delicate neck from behind, giving it a gentle squeeze. he resumes his thrusts, a little harsher and more carelessly coordinated than before, once he realises that maybe you’re just as sick and twisted as him. calling him big brother while he uses you for a dirty fuck in place of his younger adopted sibling…

you like this just as much as he does.

suguru knows you’re perfect, perhaps even more so than his little sister. he uses his grip on your throat to tug your head back while he fucks you silly, slotting his mouth against yours in a salacious and sinful kiss. “onii-san, hm?” he forces his tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth pathetically as he reverts back to his mother-tongue. “you want your onii-san to fuck you, imouto? make you cum again?”

“please, please, please onii-san! g-gotta cum f’you…g’na cum. c-close!” comes your brainless babble while you fall into a cockdrunk state.

“you beg so pretty for your big brother, sweet little thing. i should fill you up, breed this greedy little cunt for all its worth, right?” suguru’s mind grows as foggy as yours, copious amounts of his precum pouring into you and dripping down your swollen slit. it’s a mess, everything is disgustingly messy — this situation, the fact that you’re so eagerly calling him your big brother, the fact that he’s fucking you because you remind him of his sibling. but neither of you give a shit, not when you feel so fucking good you swear you’re seeing the pearly gates.

“g-god! please sugu, please nii-san, i need it. need you!” the slow roll of your hips contrasts with geto’s ever increasing slap of skin on skin, your mix of arousals crudely seeping down his balls and to the floor below. the point at which your bodies join starts to forth as well.

“is that so…?” suguru hums attentively, grinning ear to ear at how you play into this immoral dynamic. it fuels the fire of lust burning through him, setting his lungs alight and ruining his chances at breathing. his thrusts become erratic, his cockhead married to your g-spot, and he finds himself growing more and more excited about the sight of his cum leaking from your ravaged hole. “you must really like it when your big brother fucks you — hm, lillith baby? do you like how deep i can get, deep in your tummy?” he continues to ramble, grabbing your ass cheeks to peel them apart — letting out a deep and wild gripe from his chest at the sight of strings of your clear arousal glueing the fleshy globes together. “love how you throw it back on me. keep coating your nii-san’s cock in your pretty juices. gush for me, make me shine with your cum.”

you nod and do as geto says, simpering out for even more while you work yourself back on his swelling girth as it shines with milky white. you can no longer keep up with what’s happening, your brain actually lags at the way your faux big brother coos your name while your sexes sing a lewd song of pap, pap, pap. lust courses through your veins and burns at your nerve endings, you should feel disgusted with yourself but nothing makes sense. you feel like you’re high, and you don’t want to come back down. at this point, all you can do is lay down and take it, clenching around suguru’s hard cock where it counts — pulling more precum from his heavy breeder’s balls.

“nii-san…more, ‘m right there—“ you sob, reaching back with bambi eyes that plead for another kiss. you allow suguru to fuck you at his own free will, too weak to keep up.

“right here, imouto? against this sweet spot, baby sis?” you get a little tighter every time he calls you his little sister, creaming around his base and crying out his name as if it’s a fucking prayer. “you want me to breed you that bad, baby sis? want my cum deep in your little sister cunt?”

you beg for it through tears and suguru makes you cum again just like he promised. your third orgasm of the night renders you completely useless, a silent scream tearing in your throat while you seizes up and trap suguru deep inside of your fluttering cunt. it’s so fucking cute to him, how much you gush when you orgasm, like a rushing river that never stops flowing. it’s almost as if the flood gates have opened up or heaven has rained down on geto’s fat cock.

that’s all he needs for his own orgasm to be triggered, he collapses on top of you from behind as he empties his balls inside of your womb with a shout of your name. “‘m sorry little one, ‘m sorry… so fucking sorry.” he says hoarsely, cock pulsing while a wave of his cream lines your pussy from the inside — he doesn’t ever let up, fucking you through it all until both of your sexes are raw and abused beyond repair. “i love you, baby sis… imouto. s-shit, i love you so much.” your hole burns by the time suguru comes down, and you swear he feels bigger now that his dick is swollen with his orgasm.

suguru is still cumming in spurts when he pulls out of you with a hiss, painting your puffy folds white, the rest leaking out of your entrance. “im so sorry… I have no idea where that came from…” he starts to apologise tiredly. “that was…”

you remain silent for a moment, mulling over what to say next as suguru rolls off of you, and lays by your side quietly. you flip onto your back, staring up at the artificial lights hanging from the ceiling. you liked this, whatever the hell it was… even if it meant he was fucking you to fuck his unresolved feelings out for his sister.

“amazing… yeah.” is the response that you settle on.

“that’s…that’s not what i meant.”

“and i know that! you don’t have to apologise,” you cut him off abruptly, keeping your voice softly. “i liked it, whatever weird kink this is, it made me feel good.”

geto flushes hot all over, sheepishly running a hand through his sweaty black locks. “my sister… she’s not seriously my blood sister. she’s adopted and—“ he’s so sheepish and right after ruining you beyond belief that it makes you laugh in pure amusement. “a-and i like you! quite a bit. i know this was… strange… but with your permission. i’d like to keep seeing you.”

“and fucking me?” you tease, tucking yourself into the man’s side while nuzzling your face into his neck. he smells like you, he smells like sex…but you’re satisfied.

his arm loosely wraps around your waist, thumbing over any bruises he might have left there. “that too.”

“what about the gifts?”

“those won’t stop either.”

finally, you sit up, looming over geto as you tuck your braids behind your ear and out of your face. cupping suguru’s jaw, you lean over him and place a somewhat upside down kiss to the man’s lips — then brush over their cherry red bruising. “then you have yourself a deal — now please help me clean up, sugu. i don’t want to get fired.”

it’s his turn to laugh next. “i’ll just take care of all your expenses if you do.”

you roll your eyes.

this new dynamic, this new fling…it’s unhealthy, yeah. but as long as suguru has someone like you to look out for and need him. he thinks he’ll be okay.

getting over his sister was the key to healing. just like his purple nailed therapist had said — so focusing on you was healing him. before either of you can move to help clean up, suguru reaches up slowly and cups your neck tenderly. he brings you down to his level, his fingers wrapping around the silver chain swinging loosely from your neck before pressing a kiss to the amethyst pendant there.

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touyasdoll · 1 year

Text

Like a Sister

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x best friend's little sister!reader

! Disclaimer ! NO INCEST. NO STEPCEST. absolutely nothing against those who write/read that, but this isn't that and I just wanna make that clear <3

Word count: 5k

Warnings: reader is Kiri's adoptive younger sister. I always try to make everything as inclusive as possible, so pls let me know (politely!) if I failed somewhere. fem reader, alcohol, intentionally making someone jealous, reader is wearing a skirt & a charm bracelet, reader gets picked up, missionary/intimate sex, no real prep, lots of feelings involved

Notes: I'm so sorry that this took literally over a year, but I hope that you enjoy it <3

Heartbeats & Handgrenades Masterlist

Your big brother is always looking out for you. You two have been close for as far back as you can remember and he’s always been very protective of you, because the absolute worst thing that he can think of is seeing you get hurt, so he does whatever he can to prevent that.

It’s sweet, of course, and you love him for it. Eijirou is the best sibling that anyone could ask for. It’s nice having someone who cares enough to look out for you the way that he does.

However.

The problem is that he does so damn good of a job trying to look out for you that he ends up scaring off most of the guys you’re interested in.

It started back in your school days. You’re only a year younger than your adoptive big bro, so you almost always attended the same school. But the moment that he put two and two together and realized that boys had taken an interest in you? It was like his protection skills leveled up. It was as if he had developed a sixth sense for when a cute boy was talking to you. He was always just around somehow.

It went beyond your time in school though. It’s now become a sizable problem for you well into your adulthood. The same routine over and over again. The guy you’re talking to finds out that you’re the Red Riot’s little sister and suddenly they’re ghosting you for fear of ending up on his bad side. They’ve seen what he’s capable of. Well, physically capable of. In actuality, you don’t think that anyone who did cross you would get more than maybe a stern talking to from the “fearsome” hero. You can’t really blame them though. Most people don’t look at the rock hard hero and think of him as the teddy bear that you know him to be.

The worst part is that doesn’t even realize that he’s essentially a chronic cockblock and you haven’t ever had the heart to tell him. Not that you think you want to. It is a bit of an awkward conversation to broach with your elder brother. How are you supposed to tell him that him being terrifyingly good at his job is what’s causing all your dick appointments to cancel on you? Especially when he thinks that you’re still such a sweet girl too. Such an innocent girl. Thankfully, he is incorrect there. His brawn doesn’t scare away absolutely everyone that you’re interested in. You’ve had plenty of practice by ways of shallow dating app hookups and bad decisions made after one too many at the bar. But it’s not like you’ve ever brought anyone home to meet the family, so he’s none the wiser to your ways.

You’ve never so much as mentioned anyone you were seeing to your brother, which is fine by him. In his humble opinion, no one’s good enough for you anyway, which is something that he has expressed multiple times; it’s not a secret that’s what he thinks. He’s more than prepared to see you as his pure, innocent little sister forever.

Bakugou though? He has a lot more trouble picturing you as innocent.

He’s spent too many nights fisting his cock to the thought of your tight pussy wrapped around him. He’s imagined the taste of you on his tongue one too many times to see you as the virginal sweetheart that his best friend believes that you are.

He hates himself for it too. Hates that he always ends up here, furiously stroking himself while suffocating the sound of your name on his lips into his pillow, lest his roommate—your brother—hear him. Hates it.

Because as much as he lusts after you, he loves you more. He's had to insist to Mina, who can see through his ruse and has called him out of it before, that he loves you like a sister, but in truth, he loves every little thing about you far beyond that. The sound of your laugh, listening to you talk about your interests, even the face that you make when something’s bothering you. He knows it immediately, because all he does when you’re around is watch you. He wants to know what upsets you, so that he can avoid it, so that he can fix it. So that he can make you happy, because that’s all that he’s ever wanted for you. Happiness.

He couldn't tell you when it started, this little crush of his. As far as he can recall, he's always been drawn to you. You, who would always tag along with the rest of the gang back when you were all in high school. Who never seemed put off by his abrasive personality, even though it was certainly much worse back then. Who, even still today, always offers him a smile and makes his day just a bit brighter with only your presence.

He also couldn't tell you how he felt. First, he had no idea if you felt the same. He liked to think that he was fairly emotionally intelligent, good at reading cues and all that, but when it came to you, he was clueless. And he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to take the rejection.

Little did he know that you were trying to make it obvious. Your innocent schoolgirl crush had turned into something that ran much deeper than that after so many years of knowing Bakugou. Much like your brother, you immediately saw past his tough exterior and came to realize that he's actually one of the most caring and thoughtful people that you've ever met. He's always looking out for others, and you’ve noticed that you are no exception.

He saw you out on a date once, which was the point. You went to his usual coffee shop with some guy, because you knew that he would be there after his shift for an afternoon pick-me-up. You had hoped that it would make him jealous. That maybe you could get a sense for whether or not he harbored the same feelings that you did. Whether or not he had the same recurrent thoughts about the feeling of his skin on yours. You just wanted to know; you wanted an inkling of something to prove that maybe he was just as interested as you.

He did seem irritated beyond that typical gruff facade of his, but he also seemed genuine when he pulled you aside and told you that your date wasn't worth your time. Of course, he'd been right too. Not too long after Bakugou had scooped up his order and bolted, the idiot in question started visibly ogling other patrons in the cafe.

He was always right. About everything. It would honestly be annoying if he wasn't so good at giving advice. You knew that you could always go to him with even the silliest of problems and he'd offer you an attentive ear and a few words of wisdom that you never would've considered on your own. He had a knack for solving your every dilemma.

Which gives you a wicked idea.

He's always helped you out before. So why can't he help you with this little problem that you're having now?

Feeling a stroke of genius, you hatch a plan to send Bakugou signals that he can't miss.

You check the time on your phone. 2:16 PM. Your brother still has plenty of time left during his patrol shift and Katsuki is most likely at the apartment all by himself.

///

Half an hour later, you’re rapping your knuckles against the apartment door and before you can even drop your hand back to your side, the door’s swinging open.

Bakugou stands before you in gray sweatpants and a loose muscle tank that may have been a sleeved shirt at one point, but now it’s been cut nearly all the way to the hem on both sides. His face twists in confusion as he looks down at you.

“Didn’t your brother tell you he was workin’ today? He won’t be home for another couple hours.”

“I know,” you say simply, shrugging and clasping your hands behind your back as you stroll inside the apartment. “I came to see you.”

“Me?” He asks, sounding slightly incredulous, though he covers it by clearing his throat. “Why? Ya need somethin’?”

“Yeah, actually. Do you have a minute?”

You go ahead and slip your shoes off by the door before making yourself comfortable on the couch, fanning out your short skirt, so that it drapes across your thigh just right when you cross your legs.

“I’ve always got time for you.”

He shrugs, sauntering over to take a seat on the opposite side of the couch. He angles his body to face you as he sprawls out, his muscular arm laying over the back of the couch, fingers almost near enough to touch your shoulder.

“What’s goin’ on?”

It’s hard to focus on his question when you can see so much of his bare chest beneath his altered tank top, but his voice pulls your eyes to his face and your brain, thankfully, catches up.

“I’ve just been having some boy troubles,” you admit, a soft pout pursing your lips together. You don’t miss the glance that he steals at them.

“Well, that’s your problem,” he scoffs. “Stop dating boys and trying dating a man for a change. Boys are just gonna break your heart. A real man’ll treat ya right.”

“By a real man, do you mean someone like.. you?”

You ask so blatantly that it makes his head spin. He doesn’t even register your hand on his knee until a full two seconds later; he’s too busy trying to process whether or not you actually said what he thinks you said. He looks down and you swear you can sense the nervous energy radiating off of him as he lifts his hand to rest it atop your own. He doesn’t want you to stop touching him, but he’s already picturing folding you in half right there on the couch and he respects his best friend too much to ever do something like that to his sister. Or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

“Someone like me, yeah,” he says as he starts to push your hand away, but he can’t bring himself to actually do it.

He presses his hand down on top of yours and finds the nerve to meet your gaze, which he immediately recognizes as a mistake. That little smile on your lips. The sense of longing that he’s almost certain he can see in your eyes. They’re both dwindling his resolve down to nothing.

“Well, why not you?” You shrug, daring to slip your hand up to his thigh. “Why can’t I have you, Katsuki?”

He can’t believe how simple you’re making it sound. As if you two could be together just like that? What would Kirishima think? What would he do? He’s at a loss for words. He can think of reasons to say no, but all that he wants to say is yes.

“Out of every man that I’ve ever met, you’ve always treated me the best,” you say as you look down at your hands, placing your other one on top of his. “You’re always here for me when I need you. You look out for me. You actually seem to care about how I’m doing. You even pay attention to the little things like how I take my coffee or even when I wear a different perfume. Why shouldn’t I be with a guy who does all of that?”

His heart is pounding in his chest. He’s never actually felt his pulse move quite this fast and considering his line of work, that’s saying something. He opens his mouth, trying to find a way to refuse you, but he can’t. He just can’t.

“You should,” he starts, brows knitting together with regret. “You absolutely should and you shouldn’t settle for anything less, but I don’t.. I don’t know if..”

His lips press together in a hard line. He can’t even say the words. You tilt your head and the disappointed look on your face just about kills him right there.

“It’s okay, I understand. I thought that..” you trail off, looking down as you start to pull your hands away. “I’m sorry. I must’ve been misreading things.”

“No,” he says quickly, sandwiching both of your hands between his own as you lift your head to meet his eyes once more and he finds relief in the hope that he finds there. “No, that’s not it. I,” he sighs. “You didn’t misread anything. I like you. Goddamn, do I fucking like you..”

HIs ruby eyes search your face, a melancholy smile just barely turning up the corners of his mouth. You hold your breath, trying to prepare yourself for the inevitable ‘but’ that you feel coming.

“But I don’t know if I could do that to your brother.”

Your shoulders slump and your face falls too, eyes averting to focus on a spot on the floor as you nod your head. You would try to mask your disappointment, but you can’t seem to. Even in this scenario, being Red Riot’s little sister hinders your romantic prospects.

“I was hoping that because it’s you it wouldn’t be an issue,” you say quietly, retracting your hands as you stand up. “I’m really sorry for bothering you with this. Just don’t even tell him that I was here, please. I’ll get out of your hair before I embarrass myself further.”

You turn to leave and he flies to his feet, reaching out to take your hand and spin you around to face him. His impressively large form looms over you, sizing you up with a genuinely curious expression.

“What do you mean by that? Because it’s me?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, looking up at him with those doe eyes again. “I just figured that if ever there was a guy that he thought he could trust would treat me right, it’d be you. He respects you more than anyone else he knows. He’s known you forever. He even still looks up to you. If you don’t meet the standard in his eyes then.. I don’t know that anyone ever will.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He just stares down at you with knit brows and a scowl on his lips, rendered both pensive and frustrated by just how much sense it makes. He can’t deny that. But he also can’t ignore the seemingly infinite amount of times that Kirishima had warned every single member of their friend group growing up that you were strictly off limits.

Then again. You’re an adult. He’s an adult. And he’s always thought that his friend was a bit too overbearing when it came to your dating life. He gets where he’s coming from; he doesn’t want you dating an asshole, but they’re on the same page there. And this is different. Right? What you’re saying makes sense. He’d never hurt you. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did. Kirishima would understand this logic, wouldn’t he?

He hoped so.

You’re waiting for him to say something. Do something. Anything. Finally, he seems to snap out of his thoughts and he tugs on your hand, pulling you closer to slip his arm around your waist as his hand leaves yours to cup your cheek. He kisses you the way that he’s wanted to for so, so long and it feels too right to seem like the wrong decision.

It happens so fast that you’re caught off guard. It takes a moment for it to register that this is actually happening, but when you realize, you kiss him back with just as much passion. All that tension is broken, shattered to pieces to leave nothing but a sense of all encompassing need in its place. You press your hands to his chest, fingers tightening around the fabric of his tank to tug impatiently. You’d both waited long enough. You’d both waited long enough for this and it was becoming evident just how little patience the both of you had left by the way that you’re hands are greedily exploring each other’s bodies.

“Are you sure about this?” He manages to mutter between feverish kisses as his hands start to skim beneath your top. “Because I don’t think I’ll survive it if you end up changin’ your mind on me, princess.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you reply without hesitation, reaching down to pull your top off completely before you reach back to unhook your bra.

You lean in to kiss him again, but he pulls back to take in the sight of you. He’s dreamed about this moment for too long, but it’s clear now that his imagination hasn't been able to do you justice.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says so sincerely that it makes you stop for a moment as your cheeks grow warm.

You lean in again to grab the hem of his shirt, giving him a chaste kiss before you lift it over his head and toss it aside. Your fingertips explore the shape of his abs, traveling up and over his chest until your hands are pressed behind his neck to pull him in once more.

“So are you,” you murmur against his lips, capturing them again to slip your tongue into his mouth.

His large hands find the small of your back before they dip lower to cup your ass. He flips up your skirt and groans when he feels the warmth of your bare skin, massaging your cheeks with a firm but gentle touch. His confidence seems to be growing as quickly as his erection has. You think to yourself that he must not have anything beneath his sweats with the way that you can feel his cock prodding at you.

He helps you shed the rest of your clothing, tugging your panties off along with your skirt before he lifts his arms to let you lift his tank and toss it aside. He’s thoroughly worked up and ready to go, but nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of your palm against his throbbing member. His breath hitches and the noise he makes almost sounds pained. All he can think about is having you wrapped around him. He nearly forgets to breathe as he bucks his hips into your touch. A whine even slips from his lips.

“You really don’t know what you do to me,” he murmurs, eyes closed and hands greedy as they knead the fat of your ass again.

“I think I have an idea,” you reply, wearing a playful smile as you cut to the chase and tug his sweats down to wrap your hand around his fully exposed and swollen cock.

He suddenly stoops down to grab you behind your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up onto his waist as he silences you with a commanding kiss. He steps out of the sweats now pooled around his ankles and carts you off to the bedroom.

Your arms are wound tight around his neck and neither one of you seems to want to come up for air. Even when he lays you down, he keeps his lips moving against yours. You part your legs and his fingertips skim along the outside of your thigh as his hips start to roll. He can’t even pretend that he’s in control of them as his tip begins to press against your slit, begging to part your lips and slip right inside of you.

“Do it,” you beg, the plea hardly a whisper as you continue crashing your lips into his. “Please, Katsuki. I’m ready, I promise. Just fuck me already.”

You shift your hips forward and, as much as he wants to take his time with you, he can’t help himself when you manage to nudge the head of his cock inside of you. He immediately gets lost in the warm, wet, and welcoming sensation of your walls. You apparently weren’t kidding when you said you were ready. He drags his hips back and then allows himself to be sucked in as he slowly sinks himself inside.

The both of you let out a sigh of mutual relief and he pushes himself up, placing his hands on either side of your body to stare down at your perfect face. He gives another roll of his hips and struggles to keep his own eyes open, so that he can watch the way yours fall shut and how your face twists as the pleasure courses through your body. He thinks to himself that it has to be one of the best things that he’s ever been blessed enough to see and he knows that he needs more. He needs to make you feel better than anyone else ever has.

So that’s what he does.

His lips connect with every inch of your skin as he languidly thrusts in and out, allowing you to fully cherish every glorious sensation. The feeling of him stretching you out so slowly, filling you up as his hips gently connect with your own. The loving kisses peppered all the way from your temple to the valley of your breasts. The soft yet sinful sounds of him losing himself within you, his hot breath tickling the shell of your ear as he sinks inside yet again and realizes he never wants to pull out.

You return his gentle touches in kind. Your hands blindly travel along his body, exploring his back, chest, and biceps at a leisurely pace, eager to offer him as many wonderful sensations as he’s lavishing you with until you feel a tightening deep within your belly that inspires you to clutch tight to his back, nails imprinting half moons into his flesh as your legs tighten around his hips.

Without a word, he knows what you need and he gives it to you.

He readjusts, propping himself up further to allow himself more leverage, which he uses to his full advantage as he starts drilling into you, steadily increasing his pace with each thrust of his hips. He tosses his head back, letting out a guttural groan and the odd curse word as his movements become more sloppy, but in the best way.

The both of you become completely tangled up with one another, a mesh of two bodies become one as you move in tandem, trading fervent kisses and wanton moans back and forth until your overcome by pleasure.

Your hands find the fabric of his comforter, now mussed atop his once neatly made bed, and you hold fast to it as your spine bows. Everything is rigid and all too much for a brief second before euphoria explodes throughout your every nerve ending, sending you into a glorious spiral. You call his name again and again in your bliss, too far gone to find any other words. They’ve lost all meaning. You beckon him closer with each utterance and every maddening pulse of your walls around him. He hardly has time to appreciate your orgasm for all it’s worth before his own hits him like a freight train.

“F-fuck!” He growls, overwhelmed by the force with which he cums.

He doesn’t even have the sense to think about pulling out, much less the time to do it before he’s pouring every last drop of his seed deep inside your cunt. He hangs his head, enveloping you in his arms as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, smothering it in kisses as he pants and groans through his release.

Eventually, you both slow to a halt, but you don’t disconnect right away. You exchange more tender touches and gentle nuzzles back and forth, content to maintain your proximity while your blood slowly begins to cool and the thrumming in your chests starts to dissipate, though both of you are pleased to find it never goes away completely. Not like it ever had before when you were around one another, but now that both of you know how the other feels, it’s different. It’s better.

Everything is better.

He opens his mouth to speak, to finally breathe life into those three little words that have died on his tongue countless times throughout the years in his cowardice, but the sound of the lock on the front door clicking open has them perishing yet again.

He freezes, realizing that there’s likely no way out of this now. You’re just as petrified, holding stock still until you hear the door swing open and both of you spring into action. Bakugou clambers off of you to snatch a pair of boxers from his drawer, hopping into them as he swings his bedroom door shut while you scramble beneath the covers to at least protect your modesty. Thankfully, your brother isn’t able to take a peek inside the room. You just hope that he doesn’t recognize your clothing piled beside the coffee table.

“Shit, I guess I should’ve told you I was comin’ home early. Sorry, bro,” Kirishima laughs as his heavy boots can be heard venturing into the living room. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Pretend like I’m not here.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's minimal. You know you have to go and go fast.

“I’ll get your clothes,” Bakugou says quietly, listening at the door for the click of Kirishima’s.

You nod and sit up in the bed, waiting for him to return and hand you your outfit before you slip out from beneath the covers to dress. He does the same, stepping into the same sweats and tank top that you’d torn off of him earlier.

“M’sorry about this,” he mutters, nodding towards the door.

You shake your head, walking closer to wrap your arms around his middle as you tilt your head back and smile at him. His arms fold around you to pull you snug to his chest. You rest a hand on his cheek and pull him into a kiss that’s as sweet and deliberate as he had been with you and he’s grateful for it. He’d been half afraid that you’d scurry away and pretend as if this hadn’t even happened.

“Don’t be. We’ll figure out how to tell him together, okay? I just don’t want it to be this way.”

“Right. I don’t either. We’ll figure it out,” he repeats, his lips turning up in a smile that softens as he studies your features. “We’re gonna have to, because I love you.”

His admission renders you speechless, your eyes widening as heat creeps up the back of your neck. The pulse of your heart starts thumping in your own ears again, hammering throughout your every blood vessel as you will yourself to snap out of it.

“I love you too,” you blurt out unceremoniously, though you know you mean those three little words and the smile on his face says that he knows it too.

“I’m not working tonight. I can come by in a little bit?” He suggests, hopeful that you’ll agree and how could you not?

“I’ll make us dinner,” you confirm, smiling ear to ear as you lean in to kiss him once again.

He tightens his hold on you, finding it more and more difficult to let you go the longer that he has you in his arms, but reluctantly, the two of you soon part and he knows that you have to leave.

He pokes his head out to ensure that the coast is clear before he guides you out of the room and you hurry out the door, turning to blow a kiss over your shoulder before you head down the hall, giddy as you’ve ever been.

Bakugou tidies up his room, mulling over an excuse to offer his best friend until he and Kirishima both end up in the kitchen together.

“Seems like you’ve had a pretty good afternoon, huh?” Eijirou grins and bumps him on the shoulder before he ducks into the fridge for a beer. “Who’s the girl? Anyone I know?”

“Nah, just some girl from the gym. Don’t think you’ve seen her around.”

He feels terrible lying, but he figures it’s for the best, just for the time being. He’ll come clean eventually. No harm, no foul, right?

“Well, good for you, man. It’s good to see you puttin’ yourself out there. I was gettin’ a little worried about you being chronically single,” he jokes, chuckling as he travels into the living room to get comfortable on the couch and flip on the tv.

“Ha, yeah.” He nods, though he’s unable to even look his friend in the face as he snatches his water bottle and heads for the door. “I’m actually going over to her place for dinner, so I’ll probably be back later, but don’t wait up, okay?”

“Okay. Have fun, man,” Kirishima calls back, smiling genuinely as he waves him out the door.

That is, until he notices the small charm on the floor in front of him. He leans forward to pick it up and isn’t difficult for him to put two and two together. The clothes he’d spotted earlier had seemed familiar, but he didn’t think much of it. This, he couldn’t dispute. He knows this charm, because he had gifted it to you just last week as an addition to the bracelet that always adorned your wrist. And, as far as he knew, you hadn’t been over to their place since last month, yet here the charm was.

He doesn’t know what hurts more, that two of his best friends felt like they had to sneak around behind his back or that one of them had just lied to his face about it.

I know I didn’t have to end it this way. the impulsive thoughts won today and I’m sorry about it ajdhsh but thank you so much for reading!! 💕 take a forehead kiss on your way out *mwah*

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