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rinhaler · 5 months

Text

𝖗𝖆𝖛𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

would you fuck your high school bully if you got set up on a blind date with him? if he was hot, probably, right?? ... right?

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ex bully!rensuke kunigami x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: a concept that has rotted my brain for weeks now. ty to @chososdoll for beta reading as per ♡ Warnings: 18+, alcohol consumption, pro player!kunigami, pleasure dom!kunigami, consent check, overstimulation ♡, multiple orgasms (duh!), pussy eating ♡, fingering, slight nipple play, dumbification, size difference, vaginal sex, dacryphilia ♡, enemies to lovers?, pool sex ♡, skinny dipping, morning sex ♡, wake up blowjob, shush kink?, praise, reader has pubes! (landing strip), calls your pussy 'she', bullying mention, pet names (baby, princess). Words: 15.1k

“This seems a little…”

“What?”

“Sad.” you laugh, repositioning yourself on the couch beside your best friend as you watch your fourth horror film of the evening. She tuts, but not before gesturing that she needed a refill on her wine. So, you reach over to the side table and start taking off the lid for her. “I don’t know. It feels a bit desperate, no?”

“No!” Maisie objects.

She can’t remember the last time she heard you gush about a guy. And honestly, neither can you. It’s been forever since you went on a date. And it’s been even longer since you got laid. You shake the thought away as you pour the red liquid into her empty glass.

You’re happy alone, for now, you think. It’s not like you feel lonely. Admittedly, it isn’t the best feeling when you have to listen to all of your friends talk about their date nights or cosy nights in with their partners. It isn’t the end of the world, though. Maybe happy is a strong word to describe how you feel.

You’re content being alone.

“I’m not saying you have to marry the guy,” she continues, lifting the wine to her lips when you finish filling her glass. “Just meet him. He’s so sweet, and he’s gorgeous!”

“You fuck him then!” you laugh. She takes the opportunity to flaunt her engagement ring that she hasn’t even had for a week yet. You roll your eyes, but laugh, grabbing her hand so you can examine it again. It is beautiful. Are you a bad friend? Because the stab of jealousy you suddenly feel is almost painful. “I’ve never been on a blind date. I didn’t even realise they were still a thing, why won’t you just show me him?”

“I promise he’s extremely sexy. Trust me, if I wasn’t engaged I’d definitely take him for a ride.” she giggles, and you laugh back at that. She has similar taste to you, so you’re sure you’ll feel the same way when you see him. It’s intimidating though. You’re putting complete faith in her that she won’t fuck you over. And then, you realise, you’re thinking about it as if you’ve already accepted. Maybe it’s a sign. You should just take the plunge. “I don’t want to tell you too much and spoil the fun, but—”

“I’ll do it.”

“Y- really?!” she wiggles a little closer to you in excitement, her wine sloshing in her glass as she approaches. “I’m gonna text him now! Eeeeeeek!” she squeals, putting her wine down and picking up her phone. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her fingers move so fast as she texts the mystery man.

You want to pry for more information, but you know her too well. She’s stubborn. And the blind date aspect for her is too exciting. There’s no use trying to get her to spill. Though it doesn’t stop you from attempting to extract even a slither of information.

“How do you know him?”

“He’s a client.” she pays you no mind, perfectly manicured fingers tap away at her phone as she formulates a text message.

You’re surprised, for multiple reasons. You hadn’t expected her to answer that truthfully, let alone with no hesitation. It came so easy for her to say; which means one of two things. Either, it’s true, or, she had a well-crafted lie prepared in case you asked that very question. But if it’s true… that’s interesting.

She’s a social media manager. And while her clients aren’t necessarily A-Listers, they aren’t exactly nobody’s, either.

“Oh my God, is he a footballer?” you smile, widely. She peers up from her phone and you find it hard to read her expression. She’s always had a good poker face, but you’ve known her long enough to recognise her tells. And when she licks her lips, you have your answer. “AH! Is he rich? Oh I bet he’s gorgeous, fuck, is he shredded? Like—”

“The horny jumped out!” she laughs, and you playfully hit her arm before laughing along with her. She doesn’t say anything else about it. Now, she is fully committed to the blind element of the date. “I’ll drop you off, I’ll tell him what you’re wearing so he knows it’s you. He said he’s free Thursday night, does that work?”

“Sure.”

“Great! So 9PM on Thursday.”

“Um…” you hesitate. Fucking 9PM? You know you aren’t that old, you’re in your mid-twenties for crying out loud, but that seems very late. You’re usually tired by 10 o’clock. But you refuse to risk her chastising you for being boring. So, you suck it up with a beaming smile, “Perfect.” it almost hurts to say.

She claps, enthusiastically, before picking up her abandoned wine glass again. You’re both silent, fixated on the movie. But you spot Maisie out of the corner of your eye finish her drink in a hearty swig. You don’t comment, though, still trying your damnedest to focus on the movie. It’s too late, though, you’ve missed most of the plot since she started plotting and preparing your upcoming date. You don’t dare break the silence, though. She looks utterly engrossed.

However your own attempt at concentrating is thwarted when you hear her glass land a little too harshly onto her coaster. It doesn’t smash, thankfully, but you’re both staring at each other after that.

“I haven’t got a fucking clue what’s happening in this.” she admits, and you laugh, agreeing. “Let’s go plan your outfit for Thursday!” she suggests, throwing the blanket you’re sharing off her body before walking hastily to your bedroom.

This is so her.

She’s more excited for this date than you are.

“Deep breaths, you look gorgeous!” she assures you, holding your hand as you squeeze it again and again to calm your nerves. “For what it’s worth, by the way, he’s my sweetest client. He’s really respectful and kind, a lot of them can be rude but he’s never been like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! He’s really understanding.” she nods, eagerly. “Do you want me to come in and wait with you?”

“No, um… c-can you wait and let me know when he’s coming in? Or, just be here in case I get stood up.”

“Don’t even think that, he’s excited! He’ll be here. I’ll drop him so fast if he does, but I know he won’t.” she assures you.

You take another deep breath before smiling at her. She reaches over to give you a hug. It’s a tight, reassuring squeeze that makes you feel better for a fleeting moment. She waves like a child when you step out of the car, and she wolf whistles before you close the door.

If nothing else, at least you look good. You both agreed that there’s nothing like a little black dress, and your high heels accentuate your legs. They clack as you stomp across the pavement. And when you realise your steps are in time with your heartbeat you think it wise to slow down.

As the entrance to the restaurant comes into view, you look down the street and give your friend one final wave. Though, really, it’s meaningless. You know as soon as you sit down you’ll pull your phone out and start texting her in a panic. The maître d’ welcomes you with a beaming smile, checking the reservation list for the booking strategically made under Maisie’s name.

Still so committed to the blindness of the date.

It’s sort of exciting to think he doesn’t know anything about you, either. Though it’s scaring you slightly that he could take one look at you and turn around. And you won’t know until it’s too late. You won’t know until you’re being pestered to order after telling the wait staff that your date hasn’t arrived yet several times.

They’ll have to be polite despite how humiliating it is to tell you that other patrons need to be seated and seen to and you’re wasting their time. You’ll have to swallow your pride and leave. You can’t possibly eat alone after shouldering such a burning humiliation.

Oh God.

You text Maisie. And your fingers tremble as you type out the message. Telling her that you cannot go through with this and that you’re about to leave. A barrage of texts come through as she tries to give you a pep talk. But your anxiety flares and your leg begins to bounce as you try and shake the nervous energy from it.

Part of you thinks it’s best to stay sober, but your body is screaming differently. One drink won’t hurt, you decide, ordering two glasses of wine in case your date ever turns up.

And then you remember who he is. Or who he might be. He’s a client of your best friend, the social media manager. He must have some level of fame to need that representation. You’re pretty sold on the idea that he is likely a footballer. And through this thought process you manage to relax, if only a little. If he’s famous, he could be busy.

You decide to offer him some grace.

Though you should have given him the time to be really late before you got so worked up. You’ve only been seated for three minutes, after all. It’s not like he’s stood you up for an hour. You decide you’ll give him fifteen minutes before you leave. That’s a suitable amount of time to be able to leave and not look really foolish.

Every person that enters makes your heart race. Is it him? Only to realise it’s a couple or a double date or a family party in tow. You check the time on your phone, nine minutes have passed. Your cheeks fill with air as you puff it out slowly through pursed lips.

YOU: he’s not coming. MAISIE MOO 🐮: dw he just called me! he was stuck in traffic!!! YOU: rly? MAISIE MOO 🐮: yah! should be there any minute, have fun 😉

Your heart rate intensifies again as you see a man walk through the entrance and close an umbrella as he greets the maître d’. It prompts you to look outside, the windows are practically black save for a few lights on in the buildings across the road. But your eyes focus on the fat raindrops and their white outlines as they roll down the glass. How didn’t you notice the sudden torrential downpour?

Even from your seat at such a distance from the entrance you can see how large and well defined his hand is as he shakes raindrops from his orange hair. The colour makes you shiver, but you bat it away. It’s him, it has to be him. He’s alone, after all. And you see the maître d’ smile in your direction.

Hell, he might be happier that he showed up than you are.

You hear him laugh, and it’s deep, as he’s guided into the restaurant. And you can’t help but smile as you see him. He’s handsome, very handsome, and he has such a positive energy beaming from him. His face seems warm despite being chilled by the wetness of the rain. There’s pink in his cheeks and at the tip of his nose as he continues to smile kindly.

And, really, you’re speechless.

He smiles so sweetly, you almost didn’t recognise him, as he takes his seat opposite to you. And he thanks you for the wine. His eyes betray him as he looks at you with optimism. You know him, you’ve always known him. Those amber eyes that you’ve never seen in another man again since him. They seem so kind, now.

But you know better.

While he knows nothing.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” he grins, looking briefly over the menu. “I got stuck in traffic and then I had a hard time in the car park.” he laughs, his thumb indicating he’s referring to the multi-story car park down the road. The one notorious for its broken machines and confusing layout.

“Well, you’re here now.” you smile, weakly. Tipping the remaining contents of your glass until it flows between your lips. It goes down smooth and you almost feel it swim directly to your braincells, feeling slightly faint until your senses return to you again. You blink it away, and your eyes squint at him suspiciously. “Excuse me, I have to pee.” you tell him.

“Oh, sure.” he smiles. “Should I order for you if the waiter comes by? What would you like?”

“Are you paying or are we splitting the bill?” you wonder, taking his menu from his hand before he can even register that it’s gone. Your eyes scan the menu quickly, not looking for anything in particular.

“I’m old fashioned, so—”

“Great, then I want this.” you tell him, pointing to the most expensive meal on the menu as you place it back into his grip. He chuckles, gently, before looking up at you. Your smile filled with anger and malice as you turn on your heel to find the bathroom. “Oh, and an expensive meal should be paired with an expensive drink, right?” you tell him, leaving before he can respond.

He watches as you approach a waiter, asking where you can find the bathroom. They point you in the right direction. But before you go, you point towards the table your date is still seated at, telling them you’re ready to order. You ascend the staircase to the second floor and slip away into the bathroom and out of your dates line of sight.

Your heart pounds furiously.

Little hands shake as you search for your phone in your purse. Christ, you could use a cigarette right now. You feel light-headed as you take deeper and deeper breaths as you pull up your texts, your fingers tremble as you lean against the sinks.

YOU: do you hate me? be honest MAISIE MOO 🐮: ???? what’s wrong? Do u think he’s ugly? YOU: no he isn’t ugly. ANNOYINGLY. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! MAISIE MOO 🐮: … MAISIE MOO 🐮: what? YOU: do u remember me telling u about a school bully 😊 MAISIE MOO 🐮: stop it YOU: YOU SET ME UP ON A DATE WITH MY BULLY!! WHAT DO I DO?? MAISIE MOO 🐮: NOOOOOOOOOO MAISIE MOO 🐮: OMG OMG OMG IM SORRY MAISIE MOO 🐮: FUCK YOU: I told him to order me the most expensive stuff on the menu bc he’s paying.. so I might just eat and dip MAISIE MOO 🐮: stopppppp omg lmk when ur done I will pick u up im so sorry ily

You sigh, putting your phone back in your purse. Is that really the right thing to do? Maybe not right, it’s morally wrong, of course. But is it the best decision to make? Do you really want to sit and eat a meal you probably won’t enjoy with your former bully watching your every move?

“Fuck.” you whisper to yourself. You decide to pee while you’re here, and you wash your hands for longer than you intended. It’s distracting you from your worries as you stare at yourself in the mirror and feel the comfort of the warm water encasing your hands as you clean them. You shake them when your done, little drops of water landing back in the sink before you go to the hand dryer. Maybe you’re stalling. You’re definitely stalling as you realise you’re drying your hands for far too long.

With one final look into the mirror, you take a deep breath and decide to return to your date. He smiles as he sees you descend the stairs again. And instinctively, you smile back. It’s a habit you’ve developed, not necessarily a bad one. But in this instance, it feels like a betrayal to yourself. You tell yourself to remain straight faced as you sit down, pulling your chair closer to the table.

“I’m Rensuke, by the way. I realise I didn’t introduce myself.” he grins, beaming white teeth almost blinding you as he awkwardly holds his hand out for you to shake. “Sorry, been a while since I had a date.” he laughs as he puts his hand down.

“I know who you are.” you laugh in return, though it’s not because of what he said. You just can’t help but find yourself amused over the fact he doesn’t recognise you. He laughs, too, looking a little uncomfortable all the while. He scratches his head as he nods, coming to his own conclusion.

“Oh, right. You’re a football fan, then? Sorry, you didn’t strike me as the type.” he continues, assuming you’re familiar with him through his fame. You hold your eyes shut for a beat too long, an annoyed smirk creeping its way onto your face as you try to bite your tongue.

“Sure, let’s go with that.” you comment, taking a swig from your newly filled wine glass. He cocks his head in confusion, but drinks with you. “So, why are you here? In London, I mean. I assumed you’d be… not here.” you ask, unable to control your tongue. There’s venom in your words, but not enough to kill.

“Um, I—” he clears his throat, coughing into his balled-up fist. His honeyed eyes find yours again, an incredulous look appears on his face as he formulates his thoughts in his mind. “I feel like I’m being set up.” he chuckles, though you can sense the worry behind his voice.

You take another sip from your wine glass. A sip turns to a glug as you empty the red liquid from the crystalline glass. You refill it yourself; sensing things are about to go south very quickly.

“This wasn’t really a blind date, right? Maisie told you who I am and you wanted to meet me. Am I right?” he wonders. And at that, you do scoff. And now you’ve lost all interest in holding your tongue.

“Oh my God. You’re so full of yourself, you haven’t changed at all.” you tell him, crossing one leg over the other as you rummage through your purse in search of a cigarette that will never appear. “I had no idea I was being set up with you. If I knew that, I wouldn’t have agreed.” you tell him without remorse. Defeated, you throw your purse down to the ground by your feet.

There’s a sense of shame flaring within you that you couldn’t keep it together until the end of your date. Of all the people roaming planet earth right now, why did he have to be your blind date? You stare at him as you observe his confused expression, he’s utterly bewildered by your words.

“I’m… we’ve met before, huh? I’m sorry, I’m having trouble remembering. I— are you a fan? Or… were you?” he asks, trying to decipher your identity. You scoff, again, preparing to stand to your feet. He reaches across the table and grabs your wrist. You look down at his large, veiny hand and then into his eyes. Your own vibrating with a slight twinge of fear. You feel like that teenage girl all over again.

“Let. Go.” you warn him, voice quiet through your gritted teeth. He relinquishes his hold of you instantly, apologising profusely. He’s just confused about what he could have done for you to hold such disdain for him. But your warning replays in his mind like a record on repeat. It’s like his fractured memories are forming again, becoming whole as he hears your voice again and again.

Let go.

You sounded so much weaker back then. You’re more defiant, now.

“Are you Ryusei Shidou’s little cousin?” he asks, eyes widening and brows raising in excitement. You sigh, sitting properly in your chair with correct posture as your eyes look angrily at him.

“No, I told you—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not really cousins your families are just close. I remember.” he smiles. His eyes almost dazzle as he looks at you, all recollection of his past hits him like lightning as he repeats your name again and again like a mantra. “Is that really you?”

“It’s really me.” you repeat, sarcastically. “Cancel the food order, you can still pay for the wine.” you tell him as you pick up your purse and prepare to leave.

“What? Why? We should catch up!” he tells you, an expectant look on his face as he hopes to convince you.

“I don’t want to catch up with you?” you tell him.

“But… why not? It’s been so long since we saw each other.”

You signal the maître d’ when you finally catch his attention. Rensuke looks disappointed as you continue to ignore him. Instead, you alert the man that you’ll be leaving early and to cancel your orders. But you make sure to tell him that Rensuke will happily cover the bill. And he does, hastily pulling out a wad of cash from his wallet as you depart the restaurant. He hurries after you, he’s in slight disbelief when he realises how fast you are. You’re almost halfway down the road when he finally exits the restaurant.

“Slow down!” he calls out to you, running right up behind you until he’s walking at your pace. He opens his umbrella and holds it above your head as you carry on walking. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep this up.”

“Leave me alone.”

“At least take my umbrella.” he requests, “I’ll go to my car and leave right now if that’s what you really want. But at least take it while you wait for a ride home.”

You accept, not too proud to take something that might offer you a small comfort in the absolutely obscene downpour plaguing the city. How quickly you’ve transformed from a vixen to a drowned rat. He must be loving this.

“I really would like to catch up with you, y’know…” he smiles.

You look up at him as the rain soaks his gorgeous gingery locks dampening and sticking to his forehead. Maybe he has changed. It’s been years after all. He’s grown up, it’s plain to see from his chiselled jawline alone. And he was always big back then. One of the tallest guys in your class, and so big and beefy to boot from playing so much football and training in the gym.

He terrified you.

And now, he’s bigger. An inch or two taller and completely filled out into an even more muscular physique.

“I can take you home, too. You don’t need to talk to me if you don’t want to… but, it’s freezing. You’ll be waiting ages for a taxi or for Maisie to come get you.” he speaks softly. And unfortunately, he’s right. You know all too well how tough it is to get taxis around this time, but it would be worse if it was the weekend so at least you’re thankful for it being a Thursday. You want to decline. You’re so ready to decline.

But for some reason—

“Okay.” you nod. You walk ahead, though, leaving him behind as you walk to the parking complex you’re pretty confident that he used. He laughs, hurrying after you again and allowing you to lead the way. It seems you know the area way better than him.

He guides you to the elevator and to the top floor of the complex. You aren’t sure what you expected when you step out. It’s not like you’re familiar with cars. But you were expecting some kind of expensive sports model. A Ferrari or something. Instead, you’re greeted to a black Range Rover.

It’s definitely outside of your pay grade, but you can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I thought you’d have a nicer car, Rensuke.” you decide to goad him, thinking it’s the least he deserves at this point.

“This is my incognito car.” he smirks, looking over his shoulder at you as he unlocks it. Of course he has an incognito car. You huff a little as he helps you up and into it, closing the door behind you. He circles around the back and you see him looking around in the boot before he comes to the driver's side and sits behind the wheel. He gives you a towel, presumably used for his training days, and tells you to dry off. “My nicer cars are at home, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, wait…” you snicker as a thought comes to you. “Were you gonna try and pretend you’re a nobody if I didn’t recognise you?”

His face fills with a pink hue as he feels completely caught out. And you can’t help but burst into hysterics. It’s tough for him, meeting girls who will actually like him for him and not his bank account. When Maisie suggested a blind date, he thought it was as good a chance as any to try and form a natural connection.

“Anyway, I’ll take you home now.” he tells you, trying to change the subject. “Sorry the date didn’t go to plan.”

You huff, again, as you try to dry your skin with the towel. Eventually you give up and use it as a horribly soggy blanket. “I can’t believe you even wanted to go on a blind date. Girls used to throw themselves at you in school. I told Maisie a blind date seemed really desperate.”

“Did we go to the same school? I was a virgin ‘til we left.” he informs you. You look at him, surprised, and he nods to clarify. “I was focused on football and shit, didn’t have time for girls.”

“Well, you had time to bully one girl.” you remind him, regretting saying it instantly. You thought confronting him would feel better than this, cooler. Like you can finally get closure and make him feel almost a fraction as bad as he made you feel back then. But instead, really, it just feels… cringe.

He offers a weak smile at you. The tension could be cut with a knife as he pulls out of his parking space and drives down each floor. He wants to say something, and really, so do you. Maybe you should just let the hatred go. It was a really long time ago, after all.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t a good guy back then, but I like to think I’ve changed a lot.” he speaks, eyes focusing on the road as the street lights and car beams blind him in the rain. “Your cousin bullied me, y’know. Dunno if he ever told you, but I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair though, so I’m really sorry.”

“He is not—”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it, princess.” he smirks, “I wouldn’t want to claim a relation to that blonde freak either.”

The insult towards Ryusei makes you laugh. You’re still close with him to this day, and ‘blonde freak’ is the perfect descriptor. But you don’t like to think of him as being capable of bullying. You had a feeling that was why you were subject to Rensuke’s torment each day, but you didn’t want to discover the truth. He always made it a point to vilify you for being related to Ryusei. Though you adamantly denied it each time.

“So, you were a prick to me for being related to someone I wasn’t even related to?” you respond, seriously. It’s a hard pill to swallow. Though you’re unsure any answer to his bullying would have made you feel better. It hurts to know you suffered so much, ultimately, for nothing. “Wish I told him you were picking on me, he would have fucking killed you.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” he laughs a little. It’s soft, but not weak. It’s almost like acceptance. As though he deserves anything and everything you’ll throw at him. “We’re good now, though, if we’re in the same place we’ll meet up for drinks. He’s a fucking good player, too. Always admired him. He kept me in my place for a long, long time.”

You stare at him as he speaks. How have you never noticed how soft his features are? He’s so relaxed, peaceful. He looks at you briefly when he notices you staring, but just as quickly looks at the road again as his cheeks fill with heat, reddened with embarrassment.

“I was immature…” you start, looking down at your shivering, wet thighs as you decide to accept your own faults, too. “It’s been a long time since then. And we were young, it’s obvious that you’ve changed. I didn’t give you a chance and I was childish.”

“No, no—”

“I’m serious. Ordering the most expensive stuff and going off in a strop, that was really immature so... I’m sorry.” you tell him, and he smiles at that. He can’t help but think you’re a great girl. He looks over at you again, smiling so widely his eyes close.

“You never gave me your address, y’know.” he reminds you, laughing when the realisation hits you that you’d let him drive off with no real destination in mind. “Is it too late for that catch up?” he wonders, looking at you with hopeful eyes. The orange and brown colour tainted with sparkles of red as the stop light reflects from them.

And you’re powerless.

You find yourself agreeing before your brain can even keep up with the way you’re shaking your head. No, it isn’t too late. And his smile is almost as blinding as the headlights of each car in the road illuminating the falling raindrops and deep puddles forming in the street.

“I know where we can go…” he thinks to himself

Bowling.

You never thought you’d be coming somewhere like this. Truthfully, you feel like a kid again. You remember skimming some money from your daily lunch allowance given by your parents to save up enough to go to the arcade every weekend with your friends. Saving the extra coins to use the DDR machine.

Let’s just say you mastered Captain Jack on expert difficulty.

“Another strike? You’re too good, puttin’ me to shame.” Kunigami laughs before picking up a ball and preparing for his turn. “You better not tell anyone you thrashed me; my reputation will be in tatters.” he warns you, jokingly.

You watch him as he takes a swing and hits all but two pins, leaving an awkward split between them. You hear him mutter under his breath but can’t decipher whatever it is he was talking about.

For some reason, you feel like he’s going easy on you. It’s not like he was a stranger to the arcade either back in the day. You always scarpered whenever he showed up with his friends, deciding it was the perfect time to grab a bite to eat and hope by the time you were done they’d be gone.

“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I knew you were gonna show me up like this.” he smiles, sitting next to you after completing his turn. “I didn’t know you liked bowling, thought you just liked using the dance machines.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, uh,” he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck as he recalls the memories from way back then. “Me ‘n Raichi, remember Raichi? Anyway, girls on the dance mats… well, we were teenagers, so—”

“Oh my God you’re so embarrassing.” you interrupt him to put a stop to his stuttering.

“Look, it was a sexual awakening that’s all I’m saying.” he laughs. “And you were the best one, never missed a step. I remember we used to watch you for ages before we came in to scare you away.”

“Disgusting. Pair of perverts!” you lightly smack his arm as you continue to tease him. “I was good, though. Wonder if I could still pull it off…” you look at the machines in the distance as you contemplate restoring your former glory, you feel a newfound sense of confidence as you think about Rensuke finding you attractive back then.

You decide to go for it.

He follows you as you approach the machine, standing on the second player arrows right next to you.

“Always wanted to try!” he shrugs as you look at him suspiciously. “You can teach me.”

“No, I can’t.” you laugh, slotting two-pound coins into the machine so you can both play. “It’s just memory and hoping your feet will respond in time. Good luck, though.”

“Yeah, sounds like you have real faith in me.” he rolls his eyes, throwing his coat over the red metal bar behind him and rolling up his sleeves. You quickly kick off your high heels as you scroll through the songs. You hover over Captain Jack, and his face lights up as memories of you back then flow through his mind. “You always did this one. There was a different one I remember liking, though…” he tells you.

He starts to scroll through the songs, listening to them carefully as he searches for the one he remembers. Your eyes widen in horror as he settles on one, and he looks at you with pride.

“This one!” he exclaims, loudly.

“No, no way. I could never get the hang of it and I��m even more out of practice now. Afronova is too hard it won’t even be fun!” you warn him, but he wiggles his eyebrows at you teasingly. “Let’s do it la—” he interrupts you by pressing the select button.

“It can’t be that hard.”

“You put it on the hardest difficult, idiot. We’re fucked!” you laugh, but get into position. You’re both definitely going to fuck it up, but at the very least you’ll get a good laugh out of seeing him eat his words.

All colour drains from his face as he sees all of the arrows immediately come into view on the screen. He barely knows where to look let alone where to plant his feet. He looks at your side of the screen, though, seeing you miss a fair few moves yourself but you manage to keep up the pace enough to earn some words of praise from the machine.

If you’d know you were going to be doing this, you definitely would have worn a bra. You hold your arms across your chest as you continue to jump and follow along with the arrows as best you can. Kunigami, however, decided to give up and watch you instead. He puts his feet down a few times on ones he think he might actually be able to get.

You’re left panting by the time the song comes to an end and your final foot stomp leaves you breathless. Rensuke claps, proudly.

“Fucking hell.” you gasp for air, leaning over the red bar behind you. You think you might actually throw up. “You dick, you barely did anything either.”

“I was captivated by the master at work, you were amazing!” he praises you, and you can’t help but giggle. “I think we should do an easy one next.”

“Agreed…” you respond, flipping through the songs until you land on 5678 by Steps.

You both laugh and joke as you easily follow along with the routine on baby mode. And it’s easy to keep up a conversation with him like this. Discussing more memories of spotting each other in the arcade and what you got up to on weekends.

It makes you sad, in a way. Knowing how sweet he is now and what he was capable of back then. You could have been friends, great friends. Maybe even best friends. Though you’re sure Raichi wouldn’t have liked that.

He allows you to pick your favourite song for the final round. And, naturally, he can’t keep up with you. But this time he actually does his best. But for you, it’s like muscle memory. You don’t miss a single step through the whole routine and you don’t even feel out of breath when it’s over. Kunigami however is sweating and panting again, his already wet hair sticking onto his forehead again as the sweat clings to it.

“It’s getting late.” you tell him, “Should we get some gross bowling alley food and call it a night?” you wonder, moving to pick up your discarded high heels so that you can decide what to do.

He rushes by you and hops off of the step, snatching your shoes up before you can. You watch him, nervously, as he gets down on one knee while holding your black pumps. You’re too speechless to object when he helps you slip your feet back into them, so delicately. And he smiles up at you from his lowly position as you gain another six inches of height. He holds his hand out to you, helping you down the step after you take it.

You exhale, deeply, after feeling how unbelievably soft his hands are.

“I think I’ll get a hot dog.” he thinks, not letting go of your hand and he leads you up the small flight of stairs and into the eating area.

“Oh, the burgers were good last time I came here.”

“Ohhhh fuck you’re right, I’m getting one too.” he laughs, ushering you into a secluded spot to sit down. “What do you want to drink? I’ll run up and order everything now.” he smiles.

You quickly look through the drinks menu and tell him you want a strawberry and lime Kopparberg. He nods approvingly at your choice. You watch him walk up to the bar to order, unable to take your eyes off him. He’s chatty with the bartender, and you wonder what else they’re talking about. You see him grab a pad of paper and a pen from behind the bar, handing them over to Rensuke. And he smiles, happily, signing it for him. You see the man thanking him over and over before Rensuke walks back over to you.

“You only just got recognised?” you tease him.

“It’s rarer than you’d think, y’know.” he laughs, “he said his kid is a fan. No big deal.” he shrugs, sliding your drink over to you.

He moves on from the subject of his fame and status in favour of complimenting you again. Telling you how talented you are and how fun it’s been hanging out with you again. You end up telling him about your job. It’s nothing fancy but pays the bills. You tell him about how you pretty much fell into the job of doing admin work for a law firm and now you’re training to be a solicitor.

His face lights up as you tell him. Like he’s proud. Or maybe it’s a twinge of relief that he didn’t fuck you up mentally enough to ruin your life. Either way, his smile is contagious. It only grows wider when your two plates of food are put down in front of you. And you hate that you’re trying to eat politely. There is absolutely no way to eat a dirty burger in a ladylike manner. He laughs at you when a dollop of ketchup drops on your chest and tries to slither down your cleavage. But, ever the gentleman, he cleans it up quickly with a napkin.

“Sorry,” he hesitates after realising how intimate it is. He hands it to you and you finish clearing your chest. “Good call on the burgers, though, they’re so good.”

You smile as you chew your food, still doing all you can to appear polite and demure. But he doesn’t mind, or care. Canines tear his burger apart with ease, and he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling each time he looks at you.

“So,” you start, putting down the final bite of your burger in favour of taking a swig of your drink. “You perving over me, did that affect the bullying?” you wonder, laughing lightly as he almost chokes on his food.

“I wasn’t perving, it was, I— ugh. I always thought you were cute. But I wasn’t about to tell you that.”

“You thought I was cute?”

“Oh, like you didn’t have a big fat crush on me? I heard the rumours.” Kunigami laughs, drinking his beer as he leans back into his seat.

“No, no, rumours and hearsay. I told one girl I thought you were hot on our first day and it turned into a game of broken telephone and spread like wildfire. I hated you!”

“Sure, sweetheart.” he winks before taking another drink. “Don’t worry, I can keep a secret.”

You shake your head, opting to finish your burger instead of disputing it further. He does the same, leaning back and sighing with relief before taking another drink. He slaps his stomach, as if he’s gained a beer bellying rather than possessing the rock-hard abs that you know reside there.

“This was fun. Really fun.” he tells you, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to get comfortable in the booth seat. You nod, agreeing. “What are we calling… this?” he wonders.

“What do you mean?”

“Was it just a ‘catch up’ or could it still have been a date?” he asks, smiling when your eyes widen and your face flushes with heat so much that you feel the need to fan yourself. You tell him that you’re just hot from eating, but another cocky eye roll tells you that he’s not buying that. “I’m hoping you’ll say it was a date, if you were wondering.” he speaks, low and gravelly as he leans across the table to tell you.

“Well, it was technically a date. Just not the location we’d planned.”

“I enjoyed this a lot more.” he tells you, looking around at all of the arcade machines and the people bowling in the distance. “I go to snooty restaurants a lot, I don’t get a chance to relax like this as much. So, thank you.”

“R-Right, no problem.” you smile, unsure of what to say. “I guess we should get going, then.” you finish, gathering yourself and clutching onto your purse as you prepare to shuffle out of the booth. He looks a little deflated, then, but he follows your lead.

He puts his arm around you as he guides you to his car, helping you inside again. He even gives you his jacket to wear when he notices you shivering. Though you opt to wear it over yourself like a blanket.

You look out of the window as he climbs inside and shuts the door. The rain stopped while you were bowling, but it’s still so dark out. It’s damp and dreary, it’s just miserable, really. But the cold chill of staring out into the black abyss leaves you when Kunigami turns on the radio. Some generic pop music you’ve never heard in your life, and it makes you feel old and out of touch. But the face he pulls says the same story, and he begins flicking through other stations until he hears something he recognises.

“S-So… do you live nearby?” you ask him, curiously.

“I do! Just got a new place a few weeks ago, I’m still unpacking.” he smiles as he envisions all of the moving boxes still piled up in each room. “So where am I taking you?”

“If you go to Maisie’s office I can direct you from there.” you tell him, clicking your seatbelt into place as he pulls up directions on his phone to the office. You look out of the front window when you hear raindrops begin to pitter patter again. “Um… Rensuke…” you start, hesitating to speak as you wonder what the fuck you’re even thinking of doing right now.

“What’s up?” he asks, eyes darting to you before he starts the car. The only thing that can be heard is the light drops of rain. It makes your skin jitter, you feel a chill as you look at Kunigami, the rain rolling down the windows in your peripheral vision and you feel thankful to be here and not out there.

You feel desperate. And you’re sure you’re going to humiliate yourself, but you don’t want the night to end. In a million years, you never would have pictured yourself enjoying the company of Rensuke Kunigami. He’s a busy man, you’re sure. He fit you into his busy schedule and you’re sure he has better things to do than spend all of his free time on a date. A date that is supposed to be drawing to a close.

But you don’t say that.

In fact, you barely say anything.

He can’t help but smile, though, knowing exactly where your next destination will be.

“I don’t want tonight to end, either.” he confesses. You feel your body become lighter as you realise he feels the same way. He starts the car promptly, and you note how sure he is about where he’s taking you. “Can I show you my new place?” he asks.

He’s so cocksure as he says it. His eyes don’t meet yours and you sense it’s because he knows you’ll say yes. And who are you to disappoint? You’re curious, anyway. You wonder if it will be as impressive as you’re envisioning in your mind. Footballers are rich, aren’t they? But maybe he isn’t a high earning player. Either way, you’re curious to see the home that your former bully has worked so hard for.

You lose track of time as you pull up to his house. Or mansion, you should say. He’s allowed through the security gate currently being manned by a member of staff, and he drives up and towards a three door garage. You can’t believe you’re visiting somewhere like this, it feels like a dream.

It’s something Maisie is accustomed to, Rensuke even tells you how confidently she strutted around and didn’t even bat an eyelid when she came over to discuss his contract. But you’re left speechless as more comes into view.

He doesn’t bother parking in the garage, pulling up directly to the stairs leading up to the front door. He’s out first, doing a little jog around your side to open the door and help you out.

“I didn’t bring you here to brag, by the way.” he insists.

“And here I was thinking you were trying to woo me into bed.” you laugh, and laugh harder the redder his face becomes. He holds his hands up defensively, waving them dismissively as he tries to assure you that was not his intention.

“I’ll take you home right after if you want! I swear I wasn’t—”

“Relax! I was teasing you.” you tell him, bumping into him as you enter the mansion. He offers you a drink, which you accept, happily. He pours you a glass of wine but gets himself some water directly from the tap. “You aren’t drinking?” you question, feeling a little uncomfortable that you’re drinking alone.

“I won’t be able to take you home if I drink more than I already have.” he chuckles, handing your wine to you.

He drinks his water, and you take a sip of your wine. His smile, that beautiful smile, it’s so disarming. You’re tottering on your heels to walk by his side as he encourages you to follow him. You feel as though time is flying when he takes you from room to room. There are still moving boxes in each room but it doesn’t detract from the lavishness of it all.

You laugh when he tells you there’s a tennis court out back.

“What are you going to do with a tennis court?” you giggle.

“Play tennis, I suppose.” he laughs back.

You don’t mind even a little when you feel his cold hand come into contact with the even colder skin between your shoulder blades. You mind even less when his hand snakes down your spine and settles in the small of your back as he guides you to the next room.

“Oh wow…” you express, hit by the warmth of the room. Your heels clack against the tiles with each step you take. You leave his side as you get closer and closer to your target. And you scream, smacking Kunigami’s arm as he rushes behind you and presses his fingers into your sides. “An indoor pool… you’ve really fucking made it.” you tell him, and he shrugs.

“There’s one outside as well.” he informs you.

“Now that was a brag.” you laugh.

“Shit, was it?”

“Absolutely.

You crouch down to the balls of your feet, letting your fingers swim through the pristine pool water. You aren’t quite sure how to describe the colour of it, but it’s mesmerising, as if sage and turquoise paint mixed specifically to fill this pool.

He takes your hand and encourages you to stand upright again. And he doesn’t let go as he leads you out of the room. The thought of going back to your poky apartment after being in here is harrowing.

It almost feels like he’s doing charity work.

There’s a rumble outside that causes you both to stop in your tracks. And once you enter the living room again, you see the heavy rain pouring down violently on the windows again. It’s louder than before. The raindrops are weightier.

He squeezes your hand as you yelp after seeing a bolt of lightning pierce through the sky. You look up at him, eyes full of grace as those honeyed eyes warm your soul for the umpteenth time tonight.

“There’s a weather warning from The Met Office…” he tells you as he checks the time on his phone. He lets go of your hand to look at you again, unsure of what to say. “I can take you home… before it gets any worse…” he whispers. His voice betrays him, though. You can hear the voice of a liar interspersed with his desperation to be a good guy.

He doesn’t want you to leave.

You don’t want to leave, either.

“It’s… dangerous, though…” you start, looking out of the window again at the gloomy weather.

“In that case…” he bends down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “You should stay.”

You mewl, softly, as he not-quite kisses against your ear and the smooth skin behind it. And your head tilts, for him, so that he can press one final kiss against your neck. You don’t want it to stop, but he withdraws himself with a cheeky smirk while your eyes are heavy with lust.

It’s been so long.

Too long.

You might have lived your whole life up to now without being kissed like that.

He curls his finger, instructing you to follow him back upstairs. You put down your wine glass and hurry after him. He doesn’t wait, this time, leading ahead as he brings you to one of the bedrooms.

“Wait here.” he commands, and you do.

You walk up to the standing mirror against the wall and check yourself out. Trying to make sure you makeup hasn’t smudged or there isn’t food in your teeth. Your hair is still soaked, but that can’t be helped. When he walks back into the room you quickly back away from the mirror as if you’d been caught doing something wrong.

“The bathroom is just opposite to here.” he reminds you, pointing.

You look down at the pile of items he brought in from another room. There’s an unopened three-pack of toothbrushes and a brand-new tube of toothpaste. You can’t help but smile when you pick up the rolled-up ball of white, fluffy bed socks.

And you hate to admit how your knees go weak when you realise he’s gifted you with his football jersey to sleep in for the night. There are shorts, too, but you doubt you’ll need them. You want to keep your dress on for as long as possible. You’ll just sleep in the jersey and your panties when you’re ready.

“Thank you.” you smile at him. You notice the tips of his ears and his nose turn a blush pink as he sees you holding up his jersey and modelling it against your body.

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves the room, giving you the space you need to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing. You take the opportunity to freshen up, you pick up the dental hygiene products he’d thoughtfully left for you and head to the bathroom. You catch his figure slipping into his own bedroom and closing the door behind himself.

Your mind runs rampant now that you’re truly alone. Look where you are. You’re brushing your teeth and preparing to spend the night in Rensuke Kunigami’s house. Sorry, mansion. How the fuck did this happen? Your heart begins to race. Are you actually going to fuck him?

You can’t.

You can already feel your inner child cussing you out for letting him kiss you like he did, no matter how brief it was. It helps, slightly, to tell yourself you have a reason to spend the night. The weather. It would be dangerous to drive in weather like this.

But, Christ, you can feel your cunt throb with want as you think about him railing you in every room of the house.

“Stop.” you whisper to yourself.

You finish brushing your teeth and spit into the sink. And that is when an idea hits you. You splash your face with water and find some cleansing wipes in the cupboard underneath. You start getting ready for bed. Because that is what you should be doing. Sleeping, alone, until you can go home.

When you’re done clearing your face you decide to slip into the clothes Kunigami gave you to wear. Even the ill-fitting, downright hideous shorts.

You emerge from the room, and see Kunigami appear again with a wide smile.

“Hey—”

“I think I’m gonna go to bed.” you blurt out, awkwardly, and Rensuke stops in his tracks.

“Oh… really?”

“Yeah I’m… tired.” you lie, already turning back into your room. “Goodnight.” you call out, not bothering to look at him as you’re already shutting the door behind yourself.

“Goodnight.” he replies, the disappointment in his voice doesn’t go amiss.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You can’t fucking sleep.

It’s closing in on midnight when you check the time, and you have a multitude of texts from Maisie blowing up your phone. You can’t bear to respond, though. Not after all of the horror stories you told her about Rensuke. The thought of her knowing that you’re spending the night at his house is just embarrassing. Even though it is innocent enough. You didn’t even kiss, really. You’re just sleeping until morning.

But you can’t sleep.

Your mind is racing with ideas of what could have happened if you didn’t say goodnight. What else could you have gotten up to if you hadn’t had your responsible brain hardwired in. You’re thankful for it, you are. But just because it’s responsible doesn’t mean it’s always right. Right? It’s been so long since you’ve gotten fucked.

Are you depriving yourself over something so trivial?

You throw off your duvet and prepare to leave the room. You’re not looking for him. In fact, you’re hoping he’s asleep, like you should be. But if he catches you roaming the halls, you’ll just tell him you were going to use the bathroom.

The corridors are cold. The chill in the air caresses your no longer covered thighs, you discarded the shorts barely any time after you said goodnight.

You aren’t sure where you’re going, you only have the flash from your phone to light the way. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind you turning the lights on, but you don’t want him to catch you if he is awake. And you don’t want the light creeping into his room to disturb him if he did actually manage to get to sleep.

When you find yourself in the same room as the swimming pool, you have no idea how you even got here. It’s like you were summoned. It’s a mermaid’s lagoon and you were drawn in by a sirens song.

You can’t remember the last time you swam. It’s not like the weather is ever nice enough for it, and you hate public pools. But this… it might even help you feel tired enough to sleep.

You look behind you and approach a set of loungers.

As you’re about to pull Kunigami’s jersey over your head, you screech. The sound of breaching water echoes through the room and you turn around, sharply, to see the source.

“Are you okay?” he bellows, his voice reverberating through the room. “Were you looking for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” you yell, laughing soon after. “I- I couldn’t sleep. You almost gave me a heart attack, I didn’t even know you were in here!” you tell him, truthfully, and he laughs. He swims under the water from one end of the pool to the other. You stand at the edge when he comes up for air again. “I just couldn’t sleep.” you confess, though it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Your voice is quiet and mousy so that your words won’t carry throughout the room.

“Me neither.” he tells you, looking up at you as he does. You notice his eyes stray, catching a glimpse of your panties under his jersey before he shamefully looks away. But he looks, again, as he admires you in his jersey. “Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, the sound of water pouring is boisterous as he raises his hand and pats the edge of the pool.

You look at it, his hand, and understand what he’s doing.

You can’t.

But you do. You crouch down, submerging your lower legs in the warm liquid while it ripples against the back of your thighs and ass. Your breath hitches when you feel his hand on your thighs and raking up the sides. He stands up, his forehead resting against yours as water cascades from his soaking body.

You can’t bring yourself to care when you feel it splash up against you.

The only thing on your mind is how close he is.

“Why can’t you sleep, baby?” he tells you in hushed tones. The weight of his words and the way he speaks them makes your body limp. But he’s there to keep you upright. He angles his head so that his eyes, those honey pot eyes, can focus on you. Your words die on your tongue as you try and formulate a lie.

One won’t come.

“Why did you say you were going to bed when you weren’t tired?” he whispers, again, and you feel your resolve begin to crumble. He’s like an archaeologist, meticulously brushing at an ancient relic that he has no business handling.

He should have left you be.

“I… I don’t know, Rensuke.” you lie. And it’s an awful lie. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he hears you struggle to think of anything better than that. He knows. You both know. That’s why you can’t object when he pulls you closer. His hands force your legs around his waist. How did you get here?

“You look good, princess,” he tells you, tugging gently as his jersey, looking down at the strip that drapes like silk over your cute tits and perfect frame. “Want you to have it…”

“But it’s yours.” you respond. You’re a little taken aback by how demure your voice is as you speak. It’s like you’re instinctively making yourself small for him. Your inner child is protecting you, still to this day. He shakes his head at your words, though.

“It’s yours, I’ve got plenty.” he assures you. He keeps a tight grip of your thighs as he begins to walk you further into the pool. You wrap your arms around his neck and will yourself to remain some semblance of control. But he smirks, his nose touching yours before he pulls away again. “You’re coming for a swim… do you want to take it off?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen in horror as you recall your decision to decision to forgo a bra, knowing it would ruin your outfit. You shake your head, defiantly.

You can’t.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath…” you inform him. He chuckles, at that. In his mind, he knows. And deep down, you know it too. If you don’t find your willpower soon, your bare-naked form won’t be an issue. He closes his eyes and holds them shut, laughing when you repeat his name a few times in an attempt to get him to open them again.

“Take it off, ‘m not looking. You can hide under the water.”

Your movements are halted but for barely any time at all. He has a way of making you submit to anything he wants and you aren’t sure why that is. You were so mad at him hours ago. You didn’t even want to have dinner with him.

But look at you now.

Your legs are wrapped tight around his waist and you’re throwing his football jersey away. It doesn’t land on a lounger, but near enough. And you hold onto his shoulders as he begins to walk you both deeper and deeper into the pool. You don’t want him to feel you, not like that.

It’s getting out of hand.

You can’t stop it.

You can’t help it.

“You can open your eyes.” you tell him, and he stops walking. His eyes slowly open and it takes an incredible amount of restraint for his eyes to not wander beneath the water. And, you feign innocence. You aren’t sure what is wrong with you, because you know you shouldn’t have. But you look away, pretending something in the distance has piqued your interest.

You give him the opportunity to leer at you.

And he’s so thankful.

Even submerged and obscured by the greenish, dithering water, your body looks like an oil painting. To him, you’re a work of art and he’s grateful that you’re even letting him experience you in the slightest. But this… you’re a masterpiece, he thinks.

“Hey,” he speaks, he moves a hand from your thigh to your chin and you cling to him instinctively. He guides your line of sight back to him, looking back at you with a serious stare. “You don’t need to fight me, you know.”

Your heart practically stops at that. At the very least you think it skips a beat. But you hold his stare, eyes vibrating as you look between his as you search for an explanation. Are you truly so easy to read?

He sees you wrestling with your conscience. He doesn’t want to intervene, but what else can he do? He pulls you closer to him, a surprised whimper leaving you as you feel your bare chest come into contact with his.

It doesn’t register to him, though.

You don’t fight when his lips begin to trail your own. No pressure is applied, but you’re breathing is heavy. And he can’t deny that his is matching your own.

“I’m not seventeen anymore.” he reminds you, quietly. Your eyes weld shut and your self-preservation begins to scream at you. Imploring you to have some fucking common sense.

You can’t.

“I know…” you confess.

You look at him briefly, giving him silent permission to proceed. And he takes it. Without hesitation he takes it as his lips capture yours in a sweet kiss. You feel like you’re in a romance novel as it continues. It’s polite but not entirely tame. And for you, it’s been entirely too long since you last kissed anyone. You feel him smile into the kiss when he hears the softest little moan crawl out of your throat. But it fades, fast, when he remembers how lucky he is to be experiencing this.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t.

And so, he takes it seriously. He brandishes the plumpness and texture of your lips to the forefront of his mind as you allow him to continue. He implants the way your body arches into his as his fingers trace up the curve of your spine, and how your mouth parts ever so slightly when he reaches the nape of your neck.

You’re perfect.

“Has it been a while? Since you had sex.” he asks, quietly, like it’s some sordid little secret. You feel embarrassed when you register what he’s asking. The insecurity creeps in and you try to pull away. He doesn’t let you, though, pulling you closer and reaffirming his interest with another searing kiss. “You’re so responsive, baby, that’s all.” he tells you.

You kiss him again.

And you feel pathetic. Like a dog humping a stuffed animal as you begin to instinctively roll your hips against him as you beg for more.

“Feels like forever…” you confess, hiding your words into another kiss and hoping he’ll forget you even uttered them. You hear him grunt when you sensually slip your tongue between his lips. He reciprocates, licking at yours as he carries you to the edge of the pool again. “W-What about you?”

You regret asking. Of course, the answer won’t be the same for him. He’s gorgeous. Beautiful, in fact. He’s rich, famous, successful. You’re another in a long line of women who throw themselves at him when given the opportunity.

You certainly aren’t naïve enough to think otherwise.

“Since I had sex? Not too long ago.” he responds, and it’s effortless. You knew. You fucking knew and yet you’re still feeling hurt. And you feel ashamed of yourself in the same breath. It doesn’t matter, really, you know who came before you and who came before him are irrelevant to what’s happening right now in this moment. But still, the feeling of embarrassment lurks. “I don’t remember the last time I fucked anyone the way I want to fuck you, though.” he finishes.

And now, you’re ravenous.

Your lips find his again. And the politeness has died, drowned in the pool along with your morals and self-respect, you figure. Your fingers grab and pull at whatever they can find. One hand finds purchase on one of his biceps and digs and squeezes into the hard flesh. The other tugs and pulls at his hair residing just above his undercut.

And he moans when you yank his pretty orange tufts. He breaks the kiss, laughing, for a moment after he recognises what you just stole from the pits of his lungs.

You feel your ass come into contact with the edge of the pool as he sits you down in the middle of a kiss. He breaks it, sinking down further into the water until you’re looking down at him. Your heart rate quickens as you feel deft fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

And you can’t control your body, moving on autopilot as you lean back and keep your legs together as he steals the black lace from your body. He has no regard for where they land, but you hear a faint splash as they float on the surface of the pool. You won’t see them again, you think. They’re soon to absorb the chlorinated water and sink to the tiles framing the pool.

You sit back upright but find yourself unable to meet his eyes again. Instead, you stare up at the ceiling as he gently pries your thighs apart one by one. He’s slow, and careful, as he parts them. Soaking in the sight of your intricate folds.

“Pretty everywhere, huh? So fuckin’ pretty…” he expresses. You feel his thumb drift along your inner thigh to your pubis. A soft, low chuckle escapes him as it comes into contact with your pubic hair. A perfect landing strip guiding his eyes to your scintillating cunt. “You did this for me.” he states. He doesn’t ask, he tells you. And your eyes snap back to look down at him, defensively splashing him with water.

“I didn’t know it was going to be you,” you remind him. “I wanted to be prepared in case I—”

“But it was me.” he interrupts, wrapping his arms around your thighs after wiping the excess water from his face. “You’re letting me see. So it’s all for me, princess.” he continues. You don’t have a response, despite his logic seeming broken at best. It’s for him, now. But had you known who would be walking into that restaurant…

His breath fans across your heat as he places his thumb at the top of your lips and pulls back the hood of your clit. You gasp, letting your head sink as you lean back on your hands and rest your weight on them. And he spits on it, sucking at it soon after.

“’h my God…” you start, moving a hand to his hair, threading your fingers through damp, orange strands as he continues to suckle at your clit.

You’ve lost the means to feel embarrassment anymore as he looks up at you with his head buried between your thighs. Though you can’t deny the hot flush you feel as he makes a holy show of flattening his tongue between your lips and licking upwards from your oozing hole to your still exposed clit.

But you lose him, again, as he decides to focus.

He didn’t think he could burrow any deeper between your legs until you feel his still hooked arm drag you closer to the pools edge. You tug at his hair again when he finds his rhythm, and he emits another grunt that vibrates throughout your sex.

You admire how his muscles flex as his grip around your thighs intensifies. He feels how your hips begin to buck, like you’re getting there. Like he’s helping you get there but you’re still trying to run from him.

You can’t.

Not anymore.

He looks up at you with golden retriever eyes as you begin to moan. It’s quiet, until it’s not. Quiet, secretive breaths begin to turn into sinful, saccharine moans that echo right back to you as they bounce from the walls.

His nose wiggles and nestles against the perfectly formed line of your pubic hair. It tickles, but he’s always had an affinity for landing strips. It’s nothing he can’t handle. And it’s something that drives him wild.

You clamp your legs around his head as you start to dance along the cliffs edge of your orgasm. But he parts them, easily, his veins bulge in his hands as he grips tightly into the doughy flesh of your thighs.

“Ren- Rensuke—!” you cry out, unable to even warn him before he’s already dragged you into toe-curling bliss. And he prolongs it, divinely, not altering his ministrations even as you begin to shudder and scream. “S’too much, Rensuke, f-fuck…” you pant, looking down at him as he finally begins to slow down.

“’m not done, though.” he warns you. He liberates your left thigh from his grasp, but his fingers lightly trail down your inner thigh and he can’t help but marvel at the sight of your sensitivity. You twitch and spasm from the lightest of touch.

Though the whine that rips through your vocal chords is just as delightful. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t even predict it when you felt two thick fingers seamlessly slot inside of your clenching entrance and curl up against your g-spot.

“Fuuuuuck, no, Rensuke, c-can’t.” you warn him, partially succumbing to light headedness as you feel him hone in and target your squishy slippery inner walls without remorse. You’re shivering. You’d like to think it’s just the exposure of wet skin to the stormy air, but it’s too much. You know it’s too much.

“You think too much,” he tells you, head sinking low again to continue feasting upon your gorgeously ruined flesh. Your pussy pulsates through the recent orgasm and the overstimulation. He’s going to be disappointed when he realises you can’t even fathom the idea of cumming again.

You just can’t.

Your body goes limp as he nudges a particularly delicate spot and presses down on your lower abdomen. The moan that leaves you at the feeling is downright pornographic. You can’t see, you can’t feel, but he’s smirking. He doesn’t relent, but his ego and his cock swell with pride as that salacious fucking moan plays on repeat in his brain.

The hand applying pressure ventures up north of your body. And your cunt clamps down on his fingers as his adventurous hand grabs the fat of your breasts and gropes your flesh. You moan, weakly, with no energy left in you as he tweaks at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

You’re pathetic, you think.

It was this easy for him to reduce you to this.

But you can’t help it. Your body is spent and you can feel another orgasm climbing through your nervous system. And yet, despite being wrecked, your body still finds the energy to clench and groan as you feel pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl, again, before they spread and widen and you try and gain some sort of control over what Rensuke is thrusting upon you.

Another scream is torn from you as you fall, no, you’re pushed from what seemed like a higher cliff than the first. Your back arches from the tile and further into Kunigami’s titillating touch.

“Rensuke, I- I…” you aren’t even sure what you want to say when you begin babbling. You manage to rest your weight on your hands again and look down at him. He showers your inner thighs with adoring kisses, they’re sweet and loving and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were falling in love.

He pulls his fingers out of your spasming walls and looks up at you. Your jaw is agape, slightly, as you feel him spit a perfect glob of saliva onto your clit without even looking. He needs to stop. You shake your head as you see the gears turn in his brain and you catch up almost instantly. You try to pull his wrist away but you’re weak.

“C-Can’t, Rensuke… no more!” you tell him, despite trying to sound firm, you just sound pathetic.

He can’t stop.

So he doesn’t.

He rubs the two fingers that were inside you just moments ago repeatedly over your throbbing clit. The smile sprawling across his face is that of a menace. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He thinks he knows your body better than you do.

And, hell, he might.

You say you can’t.

But why are you moaning for him?

“Doin’ so good for me, princess.” he tells you, kissing your inner thigh again as he continues his assault. His eyes droop as he admires how tender and overstimmed your pussy is. You can keep going, though. He’s sure of it. “You moan really pretty when you cum… ‘n I can tell she likes attention.” he speaks, it’s gruff but somehow still soft. He doesn’t look at you right away after he speaks. Instead his eyes remain focused on your tremoring cunt.

“I’m— I c-aaaan’t. Anymore, no more, ‘mmm hmrmf…” you struggle to even make sense in your mind of what you were originally trying to say as the nonsense you actually spouted takes root in your brain. He laughs, shallowly, as you try to reason with him.

You can’t reason with him, though.

Not when he knows better and your cunt is betraying your weak will.

“Goin’ dumb for me ‘cause you feel too good, huh?” he chuckles, tilting his head as he tries to command your focus on him. The way every inch of your skin trembles with pleasure makes his cock leak like he could never imagine. He’s glad he’s in the water so you can’t see what a pathetic mess your pretty noises alone have him reduced to. Though he makes a mental note to get the pool cleaned tomorrow. “Don’t need to think when you’re cumming. Jus’ cum for me. Can tell she wants to… just let go, princess.”

“Haah, hn- hnnnnng—!” you finish with a cry, you can’t believe he’s managed to make you cum three times in such quick succession.

Even as an adult, Rensuke Kunigami has found a way to reduce you into a sobbing puddle.

He frees you, eventually, allowing your body to catch up to what has just happened. He finally lets you close your legs and allow your twitching quim to recover, alleviating the pressure between them.

He hoists himself out of the water, though. And he climbs effortlessly above you. And, really, you know he’s always been a big guy. It’s arguably his most defining trait. But fuck, like this, while you’re shivering and spent, he’s fucking massive.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks. The soft, caring voice contrasts completely with his all-consuming presence. He lowers his head to kiss between the valley of your breasts and down to your navel. But he stops short and looks at you again. “We can, if you want. But… I’m having fun with you.”

You should answer. He’s asking for consent, after all. Your lips part and reseal repeatedly as you try and decide on what to say. You’re having fun, too. But can you handle it? Can you handle more of this?

“You’re so… big.” you whisper, and you don’t know where that even came from. You giggle when you see him smile at your silly comment, and he immediately has a retort spring to mind.

“My cock matches, y’know. Why d’you think I made you cum so much?” he tells you. “Well… I like making pretty girls cum anyway, but you’ll thank me. If you wanna keep going, that is.”

“I want to fuck… want you to fuck me, ‘Suke.” you admit. He lifts your back away from the cold, damp tiles and pulls you into his embrace. You receive one final, show-stopping kiss from him as he pulls down his swim shorts. You keep your eyes on him, not having the confidence to look down below.

He grabs your chin, his thumb helping tilt your head and guiding you to look at his length. And, embarrassingly, you gasp. He chuckles, kissing your forehead and you look between him and the impressive size he possesses. It’s scary, honestly, looking at how thick and heavy his cock is and what it will feel like inside.

There isn’t a doubt in your mind that you’ve never seen a dick like this and you surely won’t again. He’s big, thick. And long to boot. His tip is prominent but soft. Like you could suck it into your mouth and hear a pretty pop sound once it’s in. You could run your tongue along the ridge and make him hiss from the pleasure.

The thickness is akin to an energy drink can. Eight long inches threaten to invade your apparently well-prepared walls, but still, you aren’t so sure. His veins aren’t prominent, but they’re there. You see them running along his shaft in different directions. And then you do find one. One throbbing, prominent vein as you admire each and every inch of his heavenly member.

You’ve never had an affinity for balls. Seeing them as a nuisance that are just there rather than anything you have any interest in pleasuring. But for him. For those. You could be persuaded. They’re heavy, God they look heavy but every inch of him does. He’s a large, imposing man and his balls are no exception.

It turns you on to no discernible degree to think about how full and aching his balls must be after you’ve teased him all night. How they’ll tighten and release as he floods you with his cum when he’s through with you.

“Need you, Rensuke, n-now.” you tell him, unable to function without feeling him inside of you for a second longer.

A brief panic shoots through your veins as he pulls you back into the water like a siren. But he stops short of pulling you to your death.

At least, in the literal sense.

You might experience your fourth little death as soon as he sticks his tip in you.

The water sloshes around you as you’re pushed into the pool wall. Your legs sit comfortably on his hips as he guides his still leaking cockhead into your greedy cunt. You moan in tandem as you become accommodated with each other.

“You’re so cute, s’fucking tight, princess.” he tells you, silencing any response you might have had with an ardent kiss. You try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. And it’s calculated, of course, as he pushes further and further into your sticky walls.

It wasn’t enough.

Three wasn’t enough.

The thickness of his length would have you screaming if he wasn’t keeping a firm grasp on the crown of your head so you couldn’t pull away to voice how the stinging stretch was affecting you.

He doesn’t let go until he’s in. Fully in. You feel him kiss your cheeks and now you can finally moan, pant, screech if you so choose. But as your breathing comes out in hiccupped sobs, you realise he isn’t kissing your cheeks.

He’s kissing away your tears.

“Took me so well, gorgeous.” he mutters against your skin, still continuing to softly peck his lips against your damp skin. “You’re so good… such a good girl, princess. I’m so proud of you, bein’ so good f’me tonight.”

It makes you cry more, though you aren’t sure why. You can barely think about what he was like back then. When he was cruel and callous for no viable reason. But you’d never have heard such sweet sounds from him like you’re hearing now. You’re a good girl, and it’s for him.

Your tongues tangle into a clumsy fervour as he starts to move his hips. The sound water lapping at your bodies is deafening. He lifts you up, slightly, so that he can pound himself into you without restriction.

Both of you find it hard to keep kissing romantically and consistently the harder and faster he batters his cock against your insides. Your lips touch but your mouths hang open. And he’s looking at you. Really fucking looking at you as he drinks in every facial contortion you make from the feeling of his cock bullying itself against your self-destruct button.

He loves the way you bite your lip when you’re close. How your eyes cross and you look so damn wet and pathetic as he brings you to ruin again. It’s a sight he’d have tattooed on the back of his eyelids if he could. He’s been around the world and still couldn’t name a more beautiful sight.

Maybe you could be a porn star, he thinks. If both of your careers fall through, he knows what a good fallback will be if you were so inclined. You’re perfect. Every inch of you, top to bottom, is perfect.

You can barely hold onto consciousness as you feel his heavy breeder balls slap relentlessly against your ass. But you hang on, you have to when he grabs the lower half of your face and pinches your cheeks until your lips pucker.

“Is my good girl about to cum?” he asks, and you nod, dumbly. “That’s it… stay with me. Wanna watch your pretty face while you cum again.” he orders.

You breath faster, fighting against the crushing urge to close your eyes and let go of your body completely. But you’ll do anything he asks, in this moment, so long as he keeps calling you a good girl.

“Can I cum inside?” he asks, thrusts increasing in pace as he jackhammers into you. He’s close, too, but he wants you to cum first. It’ll tip him over the edge if you cream him like this. It’s all he wants. It’s all he needs. “Or should I p-pull out?” he struggles, the thought of spraying your body with his seed appeals to him just as much.

“D-Don’t pull out, Rensuke, don’t you dare…” you command. “Hnf, ah, I’m! Haaah, aah, f-fuck—!” you finish.

“Shit, shit.” he follows you right after. It seems that he would have came inside whether you wanted him to or not. “Ohhhh, fuck, baby. Fuckin’ perfect pussy… take it.” he finishes, too, his pace only slowing by a fraction as his cock spurts rope after rope of pearlescent cum into your cunt.

The sound of water calms after some time. The waves lap around you, carefully, as you breathe and sweat after such a vigorous workout.

It surprises you, a little, as he kisses you after the fact. You thought he’d turn a little colder after he got what he wanted. But you underestimate him again, clearly, as he kisses you sweetly.

“That… amazing.” you tell him, not possessing the energy to fill the rest of the sentence. The start and end are enough for him to figure it out, though. And he cradles your body in his arms as he walks you both to the shallower end of the pool with the staircase. “’m so tired.”

“I know, baby.” he hushes you, you feel like a child in his hold. You’re so little in comparison and you’re still surprised he didn’t break you. He manages to effortlessly pick up his jersey and walk you towards the pool room door. “Gonna get you cleaned up, ‘n we can go straight to sleep.” he promises.

You can’t remember the last time you got such a good nights sleep. Really, you barely remember even falling asleep. You remember Rensuke washing your body and your hair in a warm bubble bath. But you don’t remember him putting you to bed.

Waking up in his arms was a nice feeling, though.

So nice you felt compelled to wake him up with a reward.

He stirred in his sleep as you began to kiss down his bare chest and further down his body. He’s a light sleeper, you came to realise, as he woke up with a cheeky smile on his face and asked what you were doing.

You took his cock between your lips and showed him just how thankful you were for his attentive treatment and aftercare from last night. And you may have wanted to give him a reason to remember you if he wanted to consider going on another date.

He got close.

Really close.

Until he pulled you away to sit on his cock.

“’m not wasting my cum in your mouth when I can cream this cunt again.” he smirks, helping you straddle his hips before lowering yourself down onto that perfect fucking dick again. And he watches you ride him, his jersey riding up slightly with each rise and fall of your hips.

“L-Love your cock, Rensuke, s’fucking big.” you moan like a slut with no remorse. You can’t act coy anymore. Not after last night.

“S’all yours, baby.” he tells you. His attention is stolen from observing your enjoyment when he hears a buzzing on the side table. He reaches for it, and you don’t even notice while your eyes are screwed shut.

And he realises it isn’t his phone.

It’s yours.

He moves slightly, so that he’s sitting upright, covering your mouth as he answers the call. Your blood runs cold as you feel the cold glass of your iPhone screen pressed against your cheek and your ear. Your eyes widened in horror as you look down at Rensuke for help.

“Hello?!” Maisie.

He uncovers your mouth, allowing you to speak. “H-Hey, Maisie.”

“I texted you so many times, where have you been? Did you get home alright? I was so worried!” she yells at you. You can tell she’s in her office pacing back and forth on the tiles as her heels click with each step. She’s pacing. She’s furious.

“S-Sorry! I was just, it was a weird night!” you try and answer simply without lying or giving too much away. But your heart quick starts again as Rensuke holds onto your hips. You're mouthing and no no no! Butit’s ignored as he nods sadistically. He holds tightly onto your hips until your flesh spills between his fingers. And he fucks. You whimper pathetically as you seal your lips in a bid to keep quiet. He really is a sadist, he looks like he’s going to cum to the sight of you desperately trying to maintain your composure.

“I cannot believe I set you up with your old bully, that is so my luck.” she laughs. “Did you just get a taxi home?”

“A-Ah! Uh, yeah I know, c-crazy.” you struggle. “S-Sort of. Eliza was in the area so she picked me up.” so much for not lying.

“Oh, really? That’s good.” she replies, though the click clacking of her heels comes to a stop. “Weird, though, considering I rang all of the girls to see if any of them had talked to you. None of them did.”

“T-That’s… weird.” you reply, eyes rolling back as you try and maintain a level head and think of a way to get off the call. “Um, I uh—”

“I’m at work, just looking through some of my client's details. I’ve got Rensuke’s address up on my screen right now.” she starts. Oh fuck. “You know what else is on my screen?”

“W-What?”

“Find my fucking friend you little slut! Oh my God!” she screams, though you can’t tell if she’s actually screaming or if it’s melded into laughter. “Did you fuck your bully? You whore!”

“I— It’s complicated, nngh!” your free hand flies to your mouth as you spasm through another mind-altering orgasm shatters through you. Rensuke keeps a firm hold of your hips as you tighten around his cock. You hold the phone as far away from your face as you possibly can, though it doesn’t matter. Not when Rensuke cums in you again with no regard to his volume.

“Oh… my God.” Maisie speaks, though you barely hear it. You bring the phone back to your ear and sigh. You already know you’re busted, there’s no point in hiding it now. “I thought I heard a mattress squeaking. Have you just fucked?!”

“Hmph… yeah. Sorry.”

“I’ll pick you up later if you need a lift, I want all the details you absolute slut.” she laughs, sitting down in her office chair as she actually starts to do some work. “How was the date though, was it good?” she asks, knowing she’ll have to go soon.

You look at Rensuke’s pink, sweaty face and wide smile. You melt into the way his thumbs stroke into your sides so tenderly. And you smile back at him, a newfound confidence you’ve never felt before.

“It was… fucking amazing.”

#rensuke kunigami x reader #kunigami x reader #rensuke kunigami x you #kunigami smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #kunigami x you #rensuke kunigami smut #tw alcohol consumption #tw dumbification #tw size difference #tw size kink #tw dacryphilia #tw praise #tw bullying mention

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ktsumu · 4 months

Text

RESOLUTIONS (this year is different) tw: alcohol consumption

This year, you wait for January in an apartment that is packed full.

You’re familiar with everyone, for the most part, all people who have played with Ushijima over the years, all people you’ve watched in one jersey or another. Everyone is laughing, happy — even Wakatoshi himself who, normally quite reserved, laughs with one of his teammates, a glass half-full in hand.

This year is different, you tell yourself.

You know that, whenever you're all drunk enough to call it a night, you’ll call a cab and go home, probably kiss on the way there. He’ll lean on the bathroom counter and giggle while you smear your makeup away with a wipe, then take it from you and do it himself. He’ll be so much worse at it, but he’ll be gentle, and you’ll let him.

This year, you’re going to let yourself be loved. You’re excited to let him.

You watch Wakatoshi from your place on the couch, a small smile on your face. Happy looks good on him; he’s handsome when he’s free. His smile gives him lines around his mouth, his eyes crinkle. His laugh is saccharine.

He doesn’t notice you’re watching, either, it’s not often he does. It’s not hard to be subtle — your eyes typically find him, anyway, golden boy wherever he goes.

This year, I’m going to let myself be loved.

You met him years ago, sort of in a situation like this. You were both in a bar in Tokyo, you think, and he stuck out like a sore thumb; freshly twenty and new to this, surrounded by teammates who made it obvious he’s never been to a bar before.

They also made it obvious he was new to a lot of things, likely why they made it so obvious in how they were jabbing his side with their elbows, nodding to you sat a few seats down. Go talk to her, she’s totally into you, she’s pretty!

(He didn’t even talk when he first sat down — you offered him a shot he probably needed and he took it.)

The rest is history.

It feels weird to think about going home. Home. You live with him, the bills get paid. He has smile lines and stretch marks on his shoulders. He’s going to take your makeup off for you because he’s seen you in every way you come. You have a house and you have a home — your friend said she thinks he might propose this year.

Growing pains are scarier when they’re not in your knees.

You only notice he’s moved when the couch sinks beside you. Wakatoshi sits next to you, a close-lipped smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and he rests a hand on your thigh.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and it’s just the two of you.

You look over his face, his flushed cheeks. You smile, too. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Wakatoshi is gentle when he guides you towards him, his hand on your nape, kissing you like you’ve never done it before. He tastes like Tennessee, and like a resolution.

This year, I’m going to kiss him more.

“I love you,” he murmurs. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

Whatever dread you carried before, it’s going away now.

“You are?” you tease, pulling back to really look at him. An anonymous hand walks by and ruffles his hair, like he’s scoring his first girl, and carries on. He doesn’t look up.

“Very.”

“Mm,” you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I guess I’m glad I’m here with you, too.”

“I mean, I would hope so.”

“Hah,” you snort, “I’m excited to go home, too.”

He scoffs, as if he isn’t typically the reserved one; as if he wasn’t the one you had to convince to make a show here. “You want to get out so soon?”

“What, you’re not excited to deal with me at home?” you giggle, craning your head to look up at him. “Not excited to spend, like, a fat hour getting ready for bed?”

He snickers again, taking a sip of his drink. He squints like he drank it too quickly.

“Like last year?”

“Yup. Except, I don’t know about the last part. I’m gonna pass out the second I hit the mattress, ‘Toshi.”

“That’s okay, I’ll tuck you in.”

Your chest warms, and you both laugh. One of you starts it, but you don’t remember who.

“You’re gonna tuck me in and take my makeup off, huh?”

“Like last year,” he confirms. “And get you water — get us both water,”

“Mm, you’ll need it, big guy.”

“I am fine.”

“Yeah, I know. As long as you can see where my face is, that’s good enough for me.”

“I can find it blind,” he says simply, smoothing your hair back and out of your face. “But yes, I can see it fine.”

You smile all crooked — he tilts his head like he wants to see it upright.

“We’re gettin' older, huh ‘Toshi?”

“That is how years work, yes.”

“Going home,” you say; your thoughts are all out loud. “Going to bed.”

He smiles — he loves it. “Unless you want to stay out?”

“No, no, I want to. I’m just,” you take a deep breath, “thinking. This’ll be how many years?”

“Not enough,” he says simply. “I wanna do this forever.”

“Hah, well, I have no doubt your body could sustain years of New Years Eve parties—”

“I meant going home,” he interrupts. “Taking off your makeup, getting you water, and kissing you goodnight.”

Your heart swells to the point of being uncomfortable, the lump in your throat impossibly there. His hand hasn’t left your thigh, it hasn’t risen higher, it just sits there. His touch is warm like a swaddle, unmoving. It’s so familiar that you lean into it like you're being carried to bed.

Wakatoshi grins; it’s crooked and you tilt your head to see it upright. “Every year, I think I love you a little more.”

(The dread you had is gone now — why you ever had it, you don’t know for sure.)

This year is different, you tell yourself. This year, you’re gonna grow.

There’s a cheer throughout the room, all this laughter becoming a dull muffle when the room seems to reach the sound capacity the little space has. There’s kazoos, glass clinking, goofy hats falling to the floor — people are singing:

“Happy new year, love,” he murmurs, and he captures your lips again.

This year, I’m gonna grow.

I’m gonna let him love it, and maybe I’ll love it, too.

#not proofread but first fic of 2024 that i wrote in literally 20 minutes at best. be kind to her she's sensitive #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #tw alchohol mention #tw alcohol consumption #tw alcohol #kit writes

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lees-chaotic-brain · 17 days

Note

this is for your event 🗣️🗣️

here me out.. gojo fic abt the song tell your girlfriend by lay banks. something like having a crush on gojo and he likes reader too but reader and gojo are with other people. idc who readers boyfriend is🫣

WC: 1.7k

CW: alcohol consumption (all characters of age), swearing, cheating (see above ask for details), female pronouns (reader referred to as girlfriend), not beta read AT ALL, reader is a bit of a crybaby lol

Note: thanks for sending an ask in emi!!! also, this song is fire i was literally jamming the entire time i was writing. also, sorry if you wanted this to be more true to the vibe of the song. i kind of interpreted it my own way and rolled with it lmao

listen to this while reading

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

You loved your boyfriend, right? You had only been dating four months, but you wouldn’t have dated someone if you didn’t have feelings for him. Sure, he could be a little aloof, and a little rude, but he had his moments when he was sweet and caring. So why did you find yourself thinking of someone else?

During the day when the sun was out and you were thinking rationally you could convince yourself that you truly cared for him, but at night under the low lighting of the bar all bets were off. When you were a few shots past tipsy and your thinking was slowed, why did another face keep coming to mind.?

Initially, I wouldn't do this

Hennessy pourin' and shit gettin' fluid

And you never intended to cheat. And you definitely never intended to fall for your best friend who was also dating someone else. But when you spent time with him, or when he shot a flirtatious wink from across the room he ignited a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. A swarm of butterflies that went into hibernation when you were around your boyfriend.

You knew it was wrong, that you shouldn’t feel the way you did, but with the heavy beat of the bass coursing through you and cognac warming your insides your traitorous heart finally decided what it was Gojo Satoru made you feel. Desire. And…love. Oh shit, that wasn’t good.

Suddenly feeling a bit ill, you waved your concerned friend off and staggered outside to get some fresh air. Taking deep gulps of fresh air, you stepped into an alley to get some privacy so you could collect your thoughts. You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to ward off the chill of the night seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes.

As you stand there shivering, your thoughts are interrupted by a warm jacket being wrapped around your shoulders. Spinning around, you find yourself face to face with the one person you absolutely did not want to see at the moment. Confronted by the appearance of your best friend, you can’t help but start crying. It’s stupid, you know, but as soon as you lay eyes on him the shock of your realization wears off and your emotions kick in.

“Oh my god, hey, are you okay?” He panics, grabbing your shoulders and peering into your face concerned. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong??”

His care only serves to make you cry harder. Why? Why did he have to be like this? Couldn’t he just be a bad friend and ignore you? It would be so much easier that way. Unsure what to do, he pulls you into a hug, patting you on the back.

“Hey. It’s okay. I got you. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” You can't take it anymore. You both are dating other people, and you are definitely finding too much comfort in his arms. Pushing him away, you avert your gaze.

“You, okay? You’re my problem. Can you just leave me alone please?”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean ‘me?’ Did I do something? Also, I’m not leaving you outside by yourself at this time of night. Please, can’t you just talk to me? Whatever I did I-”

“I just realized I’m in love with you, okay?!” Your voice rings out in the stillness of the alley, and you clap your hands over your mouth, horrified. “Wait, I-”

You’re cut off by him gently taking your face in his hands and slotting his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and sweet; filled with years of longing and suppressed feelings pouring from each of you. It feels like home. It feels like love. It feels right, but you know it isn’t. Pushing him back, you stare at him wide-eyed, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“What…what was that?”

We was just friends, but then came in Cupid

The tension was buildin', we had to pursue it

“I like you too.” He blurts in lieu of answering your question. Then he pauses and corrects himself. “Actually I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

Unsure of what to do or say, you just start laughing, because the two of you were idiots. You were best friends who supposedly knew everything about each other. Except for the fact that you were each in love with the other, apparently. Oh my god you were in love with your best friend and he was in love with you. Your laughter became tinged with hysteria as you remembered that you had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend.

Tears filled your waterline. “Oh my god Toru what are we doing? I have a boyfriend!! And you have a girlfriend! We can’t be doing this…”

“Why not?” He gently cups your face in his palms and brushes your tears away with his thumbs. “Break up with your boyfriend. Be with me. My girlfriend isn’t a problem. She’s known about my feelings for you from the start. She’s in love with someone else too and we’ve just been using each other as a distraction. There’s nothing in our way.”

Standing in that alley with his vivid blue eyes on yours, you couldn’t help but believe him. What if he was right. What if the two of you really were meant to be?”

What it's been with us this whole time

Taking a deep breath, you step back, and out of his reach. If you were going to think about this rationally, you couldn’t be so close to him. You push your hair back out of your eyes and tilt your head back. He watches you from where he is, knowing that you need space to sort out your emotions and thoughts. After a few minutes you turn back to him.

“Alright. The first thing I’m going to do is break up with my boyfriend and apologize. After that, I’m not sure. I don’t want to make you any promises, because I’m not really sure of anything. The only thing I know is that I won’t be able to live with myself if I don't break up with him, because he doesn’t deserve to be hurt or deceived. Okay?”

“That’s fine.” Satoru says simply, looking at you with so much affection it hurts. “I’ve waited for you so long, a little while longer isn’t going to do me any harm.”

Your eyes soften. “Thanks. Now, I’m going to head back in, okay?” He steps aside, allowing you to pass. Heading back into the party, you feel nauseous, but you head up to your boyfriend.

Because if you ever want to be with Satoru, your relationship can’t start with deception.

'Cause I don't wanna live a lie, lie, lie

An hour and one extremely difficult conversation later found you sitting on a park bench with your head in your hands crying. Surprisingly, your now ex-boyfriend had been very understanding and kind about it. While he was clearly hurt and holding back tears, he had told you that he just wanted you to be happy, and that he was okay with it.

After reassuring you that he wasn’t angry, he hugged you one last time, wished you well, and walked away. Unable to stop crying, you were overwhelmed by a sense of relief, but at the same time guilt. So you had told your boyfriend. What now?

Should tell my boyfriend what I been doin'

The weeks after your breakup were tough. You told Satoru you needed time to yourself, because even though you logically knew that you shouldn’t feel bad, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. You felt like if you started dating him now, it would be unfair to your ex, and that you should at least wait a little while.

You also discussed the matter of his girlfriend, and decided that it was okay for him to remain with her until you were ready, as the two of them were friends and he was helping her make her crush jealous. You didn’t mind him helping her, especially since you were making him wait and overcomplicating things.

You told Gojo as much, and decided that for the time being the two of you would remain friends until you were ready. You just needed a little time to figure yourself out. But you knew that you wanted to be with him. Just not right that second.

Took a break, had to focus on some me time

We can keep it low-key for the meantime

A couple months passed, and you went on with your life. Everything was normal, and you tried to push your thought of Satoru away, preferring to procrastinate on talking to him as long as possible.

Until one night, when you were cleaning your room and found a box of photos from your high school days with him. Going through them, you felt a sense of nostalgia, and affection. And suddenly you missed him. You missed him so bad it hurt. You needed him by your side, and you needed him as more than a friend.

Hit by this revelation, you sat there for a moment, stunned, before leaping up and grabbing your car keys. Driving well above the speed limit, you rushed to his house and banged on his door. Was it sometime after midnight? Yes. Did you really care? No.

You heard his groggy voice say something about waiting one moment, then the door swung open. And there he stood, right in front of you in all his sleepy glory. But as soon as his eyes landed on you they widened and all traces of sleep disappeared from them.

“[Y/N]! What are you doing here? It’s-” You interrupt him, tears already pouring down your face as you beam up at him.

“I love you. I’m ready to be your girlfriend now.”

Go tell your girlfriend that I'm your girlfriend (oh, oh)

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fuwushiguro · 9 months

Text

I. NEW ME!

CHAPTER SUMMARY : after a year out of the spotlight following a traumatic event, you’re about to take your first step back into it on a popular talk show. your whole team is counting on you to be perfect; but nobody is seeking perfection more than you.

WARNINGS : 18+ only, past trauma, mental health struggles, alcohol.

WORDS : 2.3k.

notes: loosely based off ‘The Idol’ which we all know is trash but I wanted to make my own (and hopefully more entertaining) version!

MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

“Are you sure about this? I know you feel like you’re gonna let everyone down if you don’t start putting yourself out there again, but—”

“Yuuji.” you interrupt him, grabbing his hand and smiling at him. There’s not a single ounce of sincerity in it. And if there’s anyone who’s going to notice, it’s Yuuji. He knows you better than you know yourself. “It’s fine, really.” you do your best to assure him.

The crushing weight of disappointing your entire team is heavy on your shoulders. As much as you’d like to run away, to hide, to cry… you stand firm.

“Alright…” he sighs, returning your insincere smile right back to you. He’s worried, of course he’s worried. But Lord knows you don’t need him putting any doubts in your mind, not now. You’re doing that enough for yourself. What you need now is positivity. Faith and belief that despite what you’ve been through, you can do this.

“Okay, two minutes to go, are you ready?” your manager, Taylor, asks you quickly. Before you can answer, there are more words spilling from her lips like it’s out of her control. “We love you, but please do not fuck this up.” she reminds you before walking away to tend to something else.

Your eyes turn glossy as your cheeks fill with air. You quickly exhale as you fan yourself, doing all you can to make sure the sudden appearance of some tears won’t roll over your lashline and ruin your makeup.

Just then, Yuuji grabs you by the shoulders, forcing you to face him.

“Listen to me.” he starts. “You’ve got this.”

You’ve been locked in your bedroom with a bottle of champagne since the interview. It went well, apparently, according to your team. And yet… for some reason, you feel dead inside. The sounds of cheers and celebrations can be heard throughout the house, and all you can do is drink your champagne directly from the bottle.

“Hey… can I come in?” you hear Yuuji ask sweetly from the other side of the door. You get up, walking to unlock the door and let him in. Your smile finally finds its way back to your face when you see him holding a pizza box. “Getting a pizza through here in one piece with a house full of drunk people shoulder be a new Olympic sport.” he grins and laughs a little.

“Very impressive, Yuuji.” you agree with him, you wait for him to enter and then quickly lock the door behind him. “I don’t actually remember agreeing to a party?” you confess.

“Taylor mentioned it. And… well, you know Taylor.” he reminds you. “Everyone thought it would look good for some reason… not sure if I agree with that but they never listen to me anyway.”

“Or me.” you chuckle, taking a slice as you sit beside him on top of the bed. “I’ve been watching the interview on repeat…” you go to grab the remote, but he takes it first.

He presses play, settling comfortably against the headboard as he pulls a slice for himself. You get close to him, he’s always so warm. And when you’re always so cold, it’s nice to be with him, despite the fact it always ends up in sibling-like fights when you press your freezing feet against him to make him jump. Though it isn’t on your mind right now. You’re worn out, defeated, and you can’t believe he actually wants to watch this.

You weren’t embarrassed to watch yourself when you were alone. It was more like analysis. Seeing what you did right and what you could improve on. The pressure of being perfect is enough to drive anyone insane. But after this, after everything, you know you have no choice but to be perfect.

The sound of your voice carries through the room as you laugh with the host as you talk. Yuuji is smiling softly as he observes, like he’s proud of you.

“You’ve got a new movie coming up, right?”

“Uh… yeah! Kinda, we’re starting filming in two weeks.” you smiled, and it was genuine. You were lapping up the way that the audience cheered at each and every word you said. Whether it be sincere or out of pity, it didn’t matter. You felt truly adored after worrying no one would remember you.

“You’re working alongside some big names, I’m sure you’re excited! Tell me a little about the movie.”

“Yeah, right! I’m the lead but I’m working with Megumi Fushiguro…” you pause perfectly to allow the audience to cheer at the name drop. There are a few wolf whistles too. “We’ve worked together before; I love working with him because he’s so talented and nice. He’s always super serious on set but between takes he’s a total sweetheart.” you giggled as you reminisce on the last film you worked on together.

“I love Megumi too we’ve had him on the show a few times.” the host smiled, agreeing. “Now I do recall dating rumours for you two…” they announced and looked to the audience, earning a slew of ‘oooh’s’ and laughter. You rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“No comment.” you wink, “No, but seriously, I’m focused on my career right now and I know Megumi is too. We’re professionals!” you laughed.

“Alright, alright.” The host laughed too. “The movie’s called ‘Assemble’, leaves a lot to the imagination, wanna tell me more about it?”

“Sure! It’s a horror, which is new for me. I know a lot of people don’t take horrors seriously, but I’ve always wanted to be a scream queen and I’m really excited to sink my teeth into a role like this. I don’t wanna say too much; I don’t think I’m allowed.” you laughed a little more awkwardly to try and placate the host and the audience.

“A horror, wow! I wouldn’t have expected that after what you went through last year.” the host spoke so casually. And at that moment, you think everyone watching could feel the way the air knocked out of your lungs. You began to fiddle with your fingers and look down at your lap as you considered what you should say.

You had never felt so small.

Not since it happened.

“Um… y-yeah. I mean… Like I said I’ve— I’ve wanted to do a horror for a long time. And things lined up well.” you nodded. “We have a great director and script. An amazing cast who I can’t wait to work with… It’s gonna be something special. I can feel it.” you told them, and the silence lasted a beat longer than you wanted it to, you couldn’t help but continue to speak. “I don’t want what happened to define me… It’s hard to talk about even though it was a year ago. But I’m more than what happened to me. I’m not the same person anymore, but I’m looking forward to learning who the new me is.”

You sniffle, hearing yourself say that. Really hearing it. You’ve played the clip so many times but that is the first time you’ve really heard yourself. It sounds so much more gallant than it really is. Because in truth, you’d go back to the old you in a heartbeat. You’d love the option to rewind to last year and change everything that happened.

Of course Yuuji noticed you starting to cry instantly, pausing the TV and putting an arm around you.

“I know you’re still struggling… maybe you should try therapy again.” he suggests.

“Maybe,” you sniff. “I just think it’s like… survivors’ guilt?” you tell him. “And I miss my dad so much. If I could trade places—”

“Don’t do that.” he chastises you. “I wish none of it happened, b-but… it did. And you’re doing great and I’m proud of you. And I know you don’t think so, but you crushed that interview.” he assures you. You smile at him, melting into his arms.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Yuuji.”

“Yeah, you’d never find another assistant as hard-working and good looking as me. You’d be doomed.” he grins, laughing a little as he speaks. You join in, finally deciding to wipe your tears and pull yourself together. “Let’s watch something else. Something… fun.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You wake up the next morning, alone in the bed. Yuuji has tidied the room already and he’s opening your curtains for you. He laughs as you groan, the light burning your retinas. You sit up as you rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Morning…” you grumble.

“Hey, I slept in my room by the way, don’t worry.” he tells you. “Everyone’s downstairs.”

“I’ve been off for a year and it wasn’t enough rest to prepare me for these hectic days again.” you sigh. “I didn’t know I had stuff to do today…”

“Uh… yeah, we’re doing a photoshoot here this afternoon. Makeup is coming in… an hour. Same with wardrobe, I think.” he tries to remember. “I left my phone in my room but I’ll go get it, Taylor wants you downstairs, like, now.” he reminds you.

You manage to pull yourself out of bed and put on a robe over the mismatched bra and panties you fell asleep wearing. The sight of you hungover and imperfect makes Taylor sigh as you come down the stairs. “You look gorgeous. Come sit.” she speaks, though you know she thinks otherwise. You slowly approach and she guides you outside to sit on the patio with her and the rest of your team.

“We want you to know how happy we are with your interview yesterday. It was perfect, really perfect.” your publicist tells you, making sure to butter you up as much as he can before moving on. “This is just the start though so we need to make sure it’s full steam ahead from now on.”

“You’re doing a shoot for Elle here this afternoon. You’ll get to show off the new place, talk a little about your recovery blah blah you know the deal.” Taylor speaks rapidly. “We just want you to know we’re all here for you for whatever you need to get through this transition back into the spotlight. It’s gonna be tough but we know you can do it.” she assures you.

“Thanks.”

“We all know perfection isn’t real, but, as close as you can get to it would be… well, perfect.” she adds. “So we’ll go over what you can and can’t discuss before the interview and—”

“Anyone order a big ass bouquet of flowers?” Yuuji shouts from inside, his voice booming through the house and out to the patio. Everyone stares as he signs for them and brings them from the front door all the way to you. He puts them down in front of you so that you can read the card.

Welcome back — love M x

You smirk as you keep the card close to your chest. Everyone is waiting with bated breath to hear who they’re from so the conversation can be over and they can get back to preparing you for this afternoon.

“I need to use the bathroom… don’t stop on my account.” you smile as you stand up. You pick up the flowers and hurry inside before anyone can object.

“Who were they from, Yuuji?” Taylor asks, which only earns him a shrug in return.

The house is full of liars on days like this. Taylor lied about you looking gorgeous just as easily as you lied about needing the bathroom. But neither of you are as good at lying as Yuuji. He knew damn well the flowers were from Megumi.

He just thinks you deserve a little time for yourself.

You don’t care that everyone can see you inside leaning against the bar in your lounge as the FaceTime dial rings and rings. There’s a real smile on your face that you cannot seem to wipe off your face as you gush over the fact he sent you flowers. The biggest bunch of flowers you’ve ever seen.

“Hey you.” he smiles, shirtless in his bed as he answers. The sharpness of his jaw and his pronounced collarbones remind you just how handsome he really is. “It’s been a little while, you okay?”

“I just got your flowers…” you tell him as you show him. “They’re stunning, thank you.”

“No problem, I saw your interview. How are you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m good, yeah. Getting lots of praise so I can’t complain.” you nod, leaning on the bar again. “I didn’t get you in any trouble for what I said, did I?” you wonder, he shakes his head which is a huge relief.

“It was just a joke so, no, no trouble at all. I was in London for a week, but I’m back now. I’m in a hotel.”

“Oh, really? Why aren’t you at your place?” you ask, curiously.

“I was gonna go home but I got warned there was paparazzi waiting for me, so I came here.” he explains. “I was thinking you could come over and run lines with me later.” he smirks as he gets out of bed. He’s walking, and you realise when he switches on a light he’s in the bathroom.

You can’t help but smirk, too, knowing what running lines will likely lead to.

“Um… I’m pretty busy today.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure you can make the time since we’re both professionals.” he tells you as he turns on the shower. He always finds a way to make you smile. And knowing he really watched your interview is making you grin from ear to ear.

“Well, I guess I can make some time tonight.” you reply, giggling as you see his cheeks flush a little red at your answer.

“Good. Good girl, then I’ll see you tonight.”

#toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #fushiguro toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #tw alcohol consumption #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro smut

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witch-hazels-musings · 1 year

Text

I don't know if I've written this, but I'm getting a strong desire to write some drunken confessions ---

Diluc helping you home because someone gave you more than you can handle (one drink, just one) and as he catches you tripping on your own two feet you laugh and tell him, "the love of my life would catch me when I'm falling. Falling for him, hehe," and he just plays it off but his cheeks are so red and his heart is beating so fast every time you lean on him for support

Kaeya teasing you the whole way home but it gets so much that you just shove him, "you're lucky I love you," and he freezes while you stumble forward, muttering out all the ways you think he's cute

Childe practically has to carry you back to your home and you're loving it - maybe more than a friend should - and when he sets you down on the ground you kiss his cheek before tripping inside your house. He forgets to catch you because he's too focused on how fast his heart is beating and how wide his smile is

Scara is so annoyed the whole time because he has to pull you back from almost falling down the steps or off the edge of the road. He yanks you back from a group of people - people who are looking at you in ways he doesn't like - so when you run into his chest you laugh and comment on how nice he's being, "hehe, it's almost like you like me," but he shoves you away, embarrassed and growing more so as you sing to yourself how lovely that would be if he did

... who else ... Mmm 🤔

Ayato, Albedo, Kazuha, Itto, Thoma continuation

#hazel is feeling tipsy #seriously im such a lightweight #now im sleepy and thinking of the guys 😂😂#♥️🥺🥹#diluc #kaeya #childe #scaramouche #hazels drabbles #hazel brainrot #tw alcohol #cw alcohol #tw alcohol consumption

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wardenparker · 2 years

Text

You’re So Vain - Chapter 3

Dieter Bravo x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Oscar winning star Dieter Bravo’s reputation is suffering after the debacle of “Cliff Beasts 6″ and “Beasts of the Bubble”, so his management team has signed him on to a publicity stunt to find his soulmate and show the world a softer side of the erratic and unpredictable star. The plan quickly go awry, though, when Dieter’s soulmate wants nothing to do with him.

Rating: Teen. But this blog is *always* 18+ Word Count: 11.6k Warnings: *Blanket warning for chronic illness, cursing, and deceased family members. This is a Dieter fic, folks, so there absolutely will be discussions of drugs, drug use, and addiction.* Enemies to lovers, arguments, shouting in public, mentions of drug use, alcohol consumption, a bunch of people very upset with each other, mentions of deceased family members and a car accident. Summary: To say the first date does not go well would be an understatement, but the fallout might be even more important than what happens at the restaurant. Notes: Exploring Dieter’s backstory has been really, really fun for us as we work on developing his character. Finding the balance in where the caricature we see in The Bubble crosses with the trials and tribulations of a real person is an absolute gift and we say a giant Thank You to Pedro for giving us those amazing building blocks to play with!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

“This is less than I sleep in and I’m going to be photographed in it.” You’ve been standing in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom for ten minutes staring at yourself in the little black dress that showed up at your door yesterday while you were at work. The short, sleeveless number is more skin than you’ve shown anywhere but your shower in more than ten years and the sky-high heels they sent to go with it make you grateful that all you’re supposed to be doing tonight is sitting down to dinner. “This is insane, right? This is the most insane thing I’ve ever done. As my best friend shouldn’t you be talking me out of it?” Steph has been sitting in your bed the entire time you’ve been getting ready - sometimes with Nora in her lap and sometimes not depending on whether or not your niece thought her stuffed animals needed her presence.

“What? Going to one of the trendiest restaurants in all of L.A. and having dinner with a hot, famous actor who also happens to be your soulmate?” Steph rolls her eyes and grins at you. “Oh, the horror.” She huffs sarcastically. She had been impressed when you were told that the dinner would be at Spago. It was a romantic and trendy spot, sure to have high profile people see the both of you and paps were guaranteed, even if Libby had arranged for them to be there.

“And by the time I wake up tomorrow, my face is going to be on gossips websites and tabloids and sh—stuff.” Tugging on the edge of the skirt a little, you sigh resignedly. There is no way this thing is going to cover the elephant tattoo on your thigh just like it will absolutely show off the triangles on your arms. You’re sure it was chosen because of that, even though not having make up on your hand makes you feel naked, so this dress is a bit of an extreme. “This is exactly what I’ve been avoiding for years. And if he hadn’t helped you and Nora the way he did, I would be ripping up that contract right now.”

“I know.” Steph sighs and picks up the heel that had been sent over. Everything is gorgeous, expensive, and looks fantastic on you despite your reservations. “But just…keep an open mind?” She asks. “He is human, despite your skepticism.”

“I’m just glad tonight is only dinner.” Specifically, it is dinner and holding hands. The contract had that laid out extremely plainly. “I’ll be home well before midnight and I’ll be able to get plenty of sleep for the brunch shift tomorrow.” You may not have had to take extra summer work thanks to the elimination of the extra bills, but you definitely still did have to wait tables at your usual summer tourist spot.

“Unless you want it to be more.” Steph still doesn’t understand why you are fighting this so hard. Dieter is your soulmate.

“I don’t.” Flopping back onto the mattress beside her, you pick up one of the elaborate Jimmy Choo high heels and stare at it like it’s personally offended you. “My main goal for tonight is to try to figure out what’s in everything I’m eating so I can attempt making it all at home.”

She sighs heavily, afraid of this. You tended to be…headstrong when you had decided something. Sometimes the chip on your shoulder blinded your to the entire view. “Well, that’s a positive. Make sure to take pictures of the menu.” She rolls her eyes and stands up. “Do you need help with anything?”

“It’s probably about time Nora saw Aunt Gigi’s marks.” You sigh, looking up at her after you’ve wrestled the first shoe onto your foot.

“She will think they are cool.” She assures you, right as the doorbell rings. “Oh shit, I’ll go get that.” She tells you, rushing out of the room to get the door.

One last look in the mirror is what you have time for - time to minorly adjust your hair and then berate yourself for caring - before you turn to find your niece standing in the open doorway of your room. “Hey, honey.” You offer her a warm smile and your hand. “It’s time for auntie to go out, but I won’t be gone too long.”

Nora looks up from her stuffed animals and her eyes widen. “You pretty, Gigi!” She giggles and looks down at her doll. “Wearing a dress like Ginger!”

“Ginger’s pretty cool,” you can’t help but smile a little wider at Nora’s approval. “I think I have a little way to go before I’m as cool as her, but I’m glad you like it.”

She looks back up at you, spotting the completely inked out tattoo and points to it. “What’s that? Mommy said not to draw on myself with the markers.” She tells you with a serious tone.

If you were going to draw on yourself, it would be something a hell of a lot better than a triangle. “These are tattoos, honey.” You do your best to crouch down to her level but it’s hard in the cage-style heels. “From my soulmate. Like how Mommy has that little star on her skin, and your daycare teacher has some words written on her arm.” The concept is something Nora understands - all kids do to a degree - but she’s just never seen yours.

“I didn’t know you have a soulmate.” She scrunches her nose in confusion and tilts her head as she looks at the tattoos. “They are pretty.”

“You like them?” That honestly surprised you enough that you look down at them again - but they’re just the same black triangles they always have been. “Almost everyone has a soulmate. Sometimes they meet early like Mommy and Daddy did, and sometimes it takes a little while.”

“Does that mean you are going to get married and have babies?” Nora’s eyes widen happily. “I’ll be a big sister!” She cries out excitedly, not really understanding the familial connections quite yet.

“Oh.” Shaking your head quickly, you try not to look too horrified by that suggestion. “No, sweetie. I’m not getting married or having babies. I’m just going to go have some dinner with them. That’s all.” You’ll have to explain the concept of platonic soulmates to her at another point. It will be a lot easier than explaining that you’ve signed a legal document agreeing to pretend to date a man you can’t stand.

“Oh.” Her small shoulders slump for a moment before she shrugs it off. “Have fun!”

“I’ll see you in the morning, sweetie. I love you.” Bending over lets you place a kiss on the top of her head, and you give her little hand a squeeze before heading for the stairs.

******

Dieter stands in the living room awkwardly, having already accepted several tearful hugs from Stephanie, and tries not to make too much light of it. “It’s a nice home.” He tells her, looking around at the modest space. “It would suck to lose it.” He comments, not really knowing what else to say.

“Thankfully, we don’t have to worry about that anymore.” Coming through the living room, you snag your blue leather and lace motorcycle-style jacket off the hook above the shoe tray at the front door and reach over to give Steph a hug. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” you tell her with certainty.

Dieter looks over at you, relieved to be off the hook talking about his good deed and raises a brow. “Wow.” He hums, surprised at how nice you look. He had anticipated you dressing down in protest.

“It’s what Libby brought over.” Tugging on your jacket is the most stubborn you’re going to get about all of this, and it’s mostly a security blanket - June in Southern California does not require extra layers.

He’s actually wearing a suit. He had huffed and complained but had settled down when Libby had told him he could take the jacket off as soon as you get to the restaurant. Dark blue, it highlights the maroon shirt he’s wearing underneath with no tie and the first few buttons undone. “Ready?” He asks, raising his brows at you.

“As I’ll ever be.” With one more hug for Steph you follow him out the door, noting that the car in your driveway is not one of the ones that had showed up here four days ago. “You drove?” Somehow you had expected him to show up with a driver and a flashy car, showing off for your quiet suburban neighborhood.

“Yeah.” Dieter nods and walks you out to the car, wondering if he should open the door for you for a moment before he decides to do it. “More natural that way. Plus, I fucking hate being driven around.”

“Seems like it would be weird.” Or maybe you just like driving, that could be it, too. Either way, your eyebrows raise slightly when he moves to hold open the passenger door. “Thanks.” You murmur, clearly surprised by the show of manners as you carefully get into his car.

He rolls his eyes at your expression after you turn to get into the car. You seem to think he’s a fucking savage or lacking basic manners. Still haven’t quite figured out why you hate him so much, but maybe he can find out tonight. “Okay let’s do this.” He mutters, closing the door and reaching for his sunglasses to put on as he walks around the hood to climb in beside you into the very normal looking hybrid vehicle.

“So did Libby pick out our topics of conversation for us?” The mood in the car is tense already and as much as you don’t really want to be doing this, you do owe it to him. Ugh, that’s something you’re never going to stop hating. You figure ragging on his manager a little might break the stalemate a little.

Dieter huffs, shaking his head. “No, I think that the entire getting to know your soulmate was the unspoken theme.” He pulls away from the curb and navigates his way out of the neighborhood, the GPS already programmed for the restaurant.

“I just meant that she seems extremely organized.” Alright, that definitely did not work. With your fingers twisting around each other in your lap, you stare out the window at the houses as you pass and return a wave from one curious neighbor who is sure to start to gossip mill churning. “That’s all.”

“Too organized.” He complains. “But she’s good at her job.” He grudgingly admits. “I’ve got a lot of movie deals because of her.”

“Good.” You nod a little, determined not to let this go too haywire too quickly. “That’s good. I mean…since it’s your work and all.”

“Yeah.” Libby had strictly told him not to bore the ever-loving shit out of you with work talk so he changes the subject. “High school art teacher huh? What made you chose that?”

“It’s not glamorous.” The way he asks the question rankles you, and you square your shoulders in response. “But I’ve always loved art, and thought it was a nice way to address the fact that I love kids. Teenagers can be really remarkable if you give them the space and support to express themselves.”

The way you speak instantly sets his nerves on edge. Like you are talking down to him as if he was seventeen again and being told that he would never make it in acting. It reminds him of every backhanded compliment he received. “Yeah.” He grunts shortly, wondering how the fuck the universe put someone like you with him.

“You don’t like kids, or you don’t like art?” It’s got to be one or the other, for him to react so stiffly.

“Love art, adore it.” Dieter turns carefully, sure that you are one of those to side seat drive and he doesn’t want to hear it. “Don’t mind miniature humans. They are simple.”

You aren’t sure that you would ever call teenagers ‘simple’, but maybe he just doesn’t actually know many teens. Being combative early in the night isn’t going to help either of you - surely later on something frustrating will happen and being worked up before then isn’t a good idea. “What kind of art do you like?”

“Impressionist, classical, abstract.” Dieter answers, keeping his head on the road. “Pretty much most forms of art can grab my attention.”

“Portraiture?” Thinking of those rare projects you’ve gotten in that area of him might make you chuckle now and again if it’s an art form he doesn’t mind. Hopefully. Maybe. It’s probably grasping at straws to think so.

“It’s cool.” Dieter shrugs. “Just hate doing a self-portrait.” He never really cared for how he viewed himself, although doing portraits of others often inspired him.

“You are an artist?” You’re surprised in a way you hadn’t expected, like the idea of him giving thought to form and beauty just doesn’t compute. “Visual artist, I mean? Obviously you’re a performing artist.”

“What? Don’t believe me?” He snorts and pulls into the valet lane. “Switched my major about halfway through when I was in college.”

“Just didn’t expect the answer, that’s all.” It’s odd to think you actually have something in common with him besides your marks, if you’re honest with yourself.

Pulling up to the valet saves him from the snarky comment he had on the tip of his tongue. The valet, a tall, probably mid-twenties man, opens the door for you and Dieter gets out to hand his keys to him in exchange for a ticket as he rushes around the back. Moderately happy that you waited for him, Dieter had forgotten to take his sunglasses off and decided to say fuck it and keep them on. “Ready?” He asks when he joins you next to the valet stand.

“Your—” You start to point out that he’s still wearing his sunglasses as you go inside but he’s entirely stopped paying attention to you as the doorman ushers you both inside and the maître’d greets Dieter with all the pomp and circumstance that you suppose he must be used to.

“Mr. Bravo!” The maître’d practically coos his name and Dieter just flashes him a grin. He would prefer to not have his ass kissed but he was used to it at this point. “We have a wonderful table, all ready for you and your lovely date.”

Libby must have called and set everything up, knowing that he will have a table that is in full view of everyone, he just jerks his head up in acknowledgment. “Thanks.”

You’re not supposed to look like you hate each other. That would completely defeat the purpose of this entire exercise, and you won’t have this whole thing be useless. “Thank you so much.” You flash the young man a smile and step just an inch closer to Dieter. “We’re so excited for tonight.” It’s a blatant lie, and you normally wouldn’t ever consider yourself a liar. But you did do some school plays back when you weren’t so horrified about who your soulmate was, so you’re just going to think of it as acting.

Dieter licks his lips, more out of a nervous habit or previous drug use than anything and gives a small smirk. “Yes we are.” He knows that people are watching him, so he reaches behind you and puts his hand on the small of your back.

There is a simple, psychologically scientific reason that you feel like your skin is on fire. Simple. Scientific. It’s just the soulmate connection. It’s just that - like it or not - this is the person the universe bound you to. You are absolutely not actually attracted to him, you tell yourself sternly, as the warmth of his hand hits your skin through the cut out in the back of this miniature dress that his manager picked out. It’s just that you haven’t fucked anybody in almost a year, and even then you hadn’t let the saucier at the restaurant actually undress you for that frenzied quickie in the back of his car. It had only been about release.

So when was the last time anyone actually touched your bare skin with any kind of intimacy? No. No. This is not intimate.

The table is practically in the middle of the restaurant’s courtyard, and you definitely spot someone sitting with a camera at a table you pass on the way through. The maître’d holding out your chair is a blessed excuse to get away from Dieter’s side, and you thank the young man and sit. Tonight cannot possibly go fast enough.

“I think we deserve a drink.” Dieter dives face first into the wine list, eager for anything that can maybe warm you up and mellow him out. You had stiffened when he touched you and it fucking irritated him. Acting like he was going to fucking jump you in the middle of the restaurant.

“Hey, your business manager set everything up, I’m sure you can just order whatever you want.” His team seemed to baby him in a lot of ways, and you suspect he requires it. “It’s not like the wine list here is lacking.” It’s…fucking impressive, now that you look at it. It’s been so long since you had anything but boxed wine or Arbor Mist that you’ve forgotten what the good stuff tastes like.

He grunts, not even bothering to mention that despite Libby setting everything up, he would be paying for it. She had already put his card on file with the restaurant. “I am going to have the Pierre Morey.” He announces after a look at the menu. “Not a bad wine.”

You manage not to choke on the price tag of the bottle he’s picked out as the nearby waiter scurries away, remembering solemnly that he dropped a few hundred thousand dollars to help total strangers just about a week ago. While you still don’t understand why he did it, the fact remains that he did. “So you like wine and art and don’t mind kids.” It feels like pulling teeth, but you’re not sure if it would be any better to sit through dinner in uncomfortable silence.

“Yeah.” He looks around, sighing when he sees the cameras pointed at the two of you already. The entire night will be scrutinized. “What about you? Lovers? Party scene?” He asks, reaching over and popping the napkin ring off the table and fiddling with it.

“A few. Here and there.” You nod vaguely and pick at the fresh nail polish you bothered to put on for tonight. “Nothing serious, ever.” The party days had been exceptionally brief - just like every single ‘relationship’ you’ve ever been in. The more marks you gained, the more impossible it became to be intimate with someone on an emotional level. “You probably think I’m boring for that.”

“I think people do what they want.” Dieter comments offhandedly. “Not like I’ve ever been in a committed relationship either.” He reminds you.

“Too busy dreaming about your soulmate?” You practically snort, half rolling your eyes at the notion. He’s been around with nearly every top starlet at some point or other - clearly never giving a second thought to whoever you might be. And that was fine with you.

“Well, you knew who I was.” Dieter grunts, annoyed at how snotty you sound. “It’s not like you were actually on Mate Marks. Or came forward.” No, the last person who came forward as his supposed ‘soulmate’ had been this crazy, albeit gorgeous, guy about eight years before. Faking his tattoos and completely duping Dieter for about three days of drug fueled sex and proclamations of love before he woke up to find his sports car and credit card gone. When they caught him, the tattoos had come off. He had copied them using the waterproof fake tattoos. Dieter had vowed never to go looking for his soulmate after that.

“I was trying to stay out of your way.” You admit, looking down at your hands in your lap under the table. “Let you live your life. A life you seemed to be enjoying, by all accounts.”

“You obviously hold some kind of grudge against me.” Dieter looks over and nods his head at his last director, out with his wife and their lover. It had been an interesting set atmosphere when they had all invited him to their suite. “So it was probably more pretend I don’t exist.”

“It’s physically impossible for me to pretend you don’t exist.” To prove it, you hold one arm out in his direction but quickly snatch it back when the waiter returns with the wine he ordered. Glasses are poured and your dinner orders are taken, with you just selecting the first thing your eyes land on, on the menu and being grateful you didn’t accidentally pick anything too expensive.

The comment makes him rock his jaw, gulping down the glass of wine and the waiter quickly pours him another. Reminding himself to keep it cool, his every move is being recorded. “Yeah, I’ve got some marks from you too.” He chuckles. “The one on the hip is from shaving?” He shakes his head in amusement.

“I got slightly aggressively with myself in early attempts to shave my legs.” The wine glass in front of you is sort of its own gorgeous work of art with how the dim light hits it, and it almost manages to make you smile in its simplicity. “I wasn’t an especially graceful kid.”

“Try being a nerdy, queer, art dork in Arizona.” He huffs. “If I didn’t get my ass kicked that day, I was not at school.”

“You came out young?” There had been a whole thing in the media about eight or nine years ago when he was spotted with some guy at a bunch of clubs over the course of a few months and then released a statement about being bisexual, but just like anything controversial about a successful male, it had been wiped under the rug and forgotten about except by the people it specifically affected. You had never personally cared that much - Shawn’s queerness being much more relevant and meaningful for you growing up. “My, um…my brother was bi. So I’m not judging or anything. Just asking.”

“I guess you could say that.” Dieter had an unusual upbringing where his mother didn’t really care what he did, or with who. His sister more of a mother to him, and she loved him no matter what. “I think I was ten? In love with a boy and a girl. And asked them both to be my dates to the spring fling dance.”

“I don’t think I even knew what bisexuality was when I was ten.” Shawn was older, yes, but only by a few years and your childhoods had been fairly sheltered. “Did they say yes?”

He snorts and shakes his head. “No, Bradley Morrison was firmly straight, and I got punched in the mouth.”

“Bradley Morrison probably brags to other dudes in the bar that a movie star liked him.” You predict and take a sip of your wine. Almost anybody would consider that a bragging point in their life, even if they don’t say which one it was.

“Who cares?” The rejection had been crushing when he was younger, but he had grown up. Kind of. “His loss.”

“Sure. Of course.” Barely managing to contain a huff behind another sip of wine, you have to remind yourself that any attempt to actually have a human conversation with this man is probably completely in vain. Even when you’re doing your damnedest to be nice he doesn’t seem to give a shit at all.

Dieter looks around, people watching as much as people are staring at him. He nods, waves to a couple of people he recognizes. “Well, at least we have good food to look forward to, right?” He asks, sensing you would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’ve heard good things.” It’s not like you know anyone who’s actually eaten here. The place is way out of your price bracket.

“Yeah.” Dieter taps his fingers on the table, wondering why nothing seems to be clinking between the two of you. Most of the time people loved him, or at least loved the crazy shit he would do. Sober him apparently was a dud. “Shit.” He huffs, standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

“Uh…sure.” You have no idea what just happened beyond this being the single most awkward date you’ve ever been on in your life, and the fact that he’s just left you alone at the table with no explanation actually seems pretty on brand for how the night was leading up to this. If he’s gone more than a few minutes you might pull out your phone, but for now you plaster a smile on your face and sip your wine, desperately trying to avoid the way everyone around you is glancing in your direction.

******

Dieter rushes to the bathroom, nearly in a cold sweat, his phone in his hand and a contact pulled up. It would be so easy; he’s right fucking there. He would just give him a little taste, take the edge off, mellow out his rough nerves. Hovering over the little icon that would connect him to his supplier. Leaning over the bathroom sink that is way too crowded with flowers and baskets of hand towels, he almost slips into his old habits. Until the door opens, making him jump when another man enters and gives him a wary look, and skitters into one of the stalls. Dieter’s shoulders sag and he quickly changes screens to his favorites and hits the number to connect the call.

“Dee!” Libby’s voice is forced cheeriness as she frowns at her watch. He’s been on his date for maybe forty-five minutes, if he picked the bitchy teacher up on time. Why is he calling? “What’s going on? How’s dinner?”

“There’s got to be a mistake.” Dieter tells her. “There’s no fucking way that woman is…it.” He’s cautious because of the other man, even though he doesn’t know what Dieter is talking about. “It’s bad, really bad.”

“It’ll all be just fine.” She hums down the phone, having expected some resistance after that horrific first meeting. ‘Fuck you, Bravo!’ is now the most popular meme in circulation on social media sites and she needs tonight to go well. Well, she needs all of these dates to go well, but tonight is what’s going to set the tone. “Just order something indulgent and ask just enough leading questions to keep her talking about herself. Fake a laugh when appropriate. Layer on some of that Bravo charm I know you have stored up.”

“Yeah, except I’m high when I fucking charm people.” He reminds her. “I— I can’t do this. This is just— there’s no way.” He huffs, shaking his head as if she can see him. “The universe fucked up.”

“Dieter.” Libby sighs slightly and rests her chin on one fist as she holds the phone in her other hand. “You need this. Once the contract is fulfilled there will be plenty of material of the two of you together and you can say some polite bullshit in interviews about respecting her privacy, and you’ll never have to see her again if you don’t want to. But this summer, Bravo? This summer better be the best acting you ever do if she’s actually that bad.”

He huffs, wanting to whine but he knows it won’t make a difference. He’s stuck. “Fine.” He answers after a moment. “But don’t blame me when this shit doesn’t work.”

“Attaboy, Dee, get back on the horse.” It’s a goddamn relief that he’s not pushing back too hard. She’ll send him his favorite pizza and a six pack to his house for dinner tomorrow as a reward - and also sign him back up for time with a personal trainer from the studio. “Don’t forget the first date is hand holding, okay? We need one good shot of the two of you getting moony at that table and we can call the whole night a success.”

“That’ll be worth another Oscar.” Dieter rolls his eyes and hangs up the phone, looking in the mirror for far longer than he probably should have before he decides to take a piss, wash his hands, and go back out to his date. It’s not his fault that he was met in the hallway by the one producer that would not shut the fuck up. Making Dieter’s eyes glaze over while the man rambles on about this project that Dieter would be perfect for. Basically begging him to come onto the project in order to pique the interest of the studios. “Sorry, I just don’t like it.” He finally manages, sliding by him and walking back out into the main area of the restaurant.

“Where have you been?” Thirty minutes. It’s been thirty minutes since he abruptly abandoned you at the table with no explanation and it had seemed easily to be thirty years instead. The click of a camera shutter isn’t all too common a sound anymore but you can certainly identify it, and you are definitely not immune to whispering. It’s like the worst parts of school - the snide comments and the pitying stares - all over again. This shit is why you’re the way you are as a teacher. Trying to provide a safe haven for kids like you never had. Grown ass people acting like children sets you off in a way you can’t quite explain.

“I had to take care of something and then I got waylaid.” The food is on the table, thank god. He won’t be expected to talk with food in his mouth. He frowns, wondering why him going to the bathroom managed to piss you off.

“It’s been half a damn hour.” You mutter through a tense smile, trying not to let any of the eyes on you see how your heart is pounding.

“It wasn’t that long.” Dieter scoffs, sure that he had only been gone for ten minutes. Sure, Raphie can talk anyone to death, he had cut him off before the man really got on a roll.

“It was.” With your phone discreetly beside you, you had watched every minute tick right by. Sliding the electronic back into your purse, you remind yourself to breathe and to just fucking get through this meal. You pick up your fork and raise your head to say something to him to that affect but all you can see is your own fucking reflection in his infuriating sunglasses that he somehow still hasn’t taken off. “Would you take those things off, please? Pretend you don’t mind looking me in the face?”

He rolls his eyes before he takes them off, sliding them into his jacket pocket and standing up so he can take it off. He hates the damn thing, sleeves already rolled up underneath, showing off the tattoos and bracelets that he is still wearing. “Better, mom?” He snarks, annoyed that you just can’t go five seconds without bitching about something.

“And here I thought you liked being bossed around.” As soon as it’s out of your mouth you wish you hadn’t said it - digging into your meal so you don’t have to see the look on his face when he finds out that you actually - very secretly - watched the stupid Beasts of the Bubble documentary.

Dieter smirks, leaning in and chuckling. “So you do check up on me.” He hums, enjoying the way you refuse to look him in the eyes.

“So I know how best to avoid you,” you mutter, kicking yourself for slipping up.

The idea that his soulmate avoids him stings, especially since he’s never done a fucking thing to you. So Dieter lashes out to cover up his own hurt feelings. “Not hard, we don’t exactly run in the same circles.” He hisses at you.

“Thank god for that.” The one bite of your food you’ve had is delicious, but you can’t even see to enjoy it through your anger. He’s exactly like you thought he would be - exactly like they were - and it makes you so disappointed in everything that you could throw things. So you throw your words, the only weapon you currently have at your disposal. “Better a boring suburban existence than wasting time on a selfish asshole who says he loves art but slaps two ugly fucking triangles on our arms for the entire world to stare at.”

Dieter’s jaw tightens, grinding his back teeth and he doesn’t give a fuck who is watching. His eyes narrow angrily on you and his voice comes out in a harsh growl. “There’s nothing wrong with my tattoos.” He spits.

You’ve struck a nerve and as petty as it is, you’re glad. “They’re meaningless, edgy drivel.” You scoff under your breath. “Let me guess. Triangles because you like threesomes?”

Dieter lurches out of his chair before he even realizes he’s on his feet, making you jump, looking up at him with wide, shocked eyes. “Why would I explain them to a conceited, stuck-up bitch who wouldn’t even give a fuck about the meaning?” He hurls at you. “This was a fucking mistake. Fuck the universe and you know what? Fuck you too.” Grabbing his coat, he storms out of the restaurant, ready to fucking bury himself in the biggest fucking pile of cocaine money can buy.

For just a split second you almost get out of your seat to follow after him, but you just can’t. You’re glued to your chair in shock as the whispers become murmurs and you know there will be photos of you sitting alone at this table splashed all over the internet tomorrow. The one thing you would never give him is the satisfaction of tears, but the utter humiliation combined with the fact that there is no way in hell that you can pay for this meal is making you shake a little as you flag down the waiter and ask for the bill. What’s a little more credit card debt - provided your card doesn’t decline? It can go along with the absurd Uber charge you’ll have to deal with courtesy of the fact that he’s just stranded you over an hour away from home.

The waiter comes back, he shakes his head and gives you an apologetic look. “The bill has already been paid.” He assures you, glances down at the nearly full plates. Dieter hadn’t even touched his food. “Would you like me to box these up for you?” He asks kindly, mortified that you apparently have been abandoned during your date.

“I’ve lost my appetite.” Is an honest answer, at least, and you clutch your phone in one hand as you make a beeline for the front door. The nearest Uber is only two minutes away, and you have two texts to send in the meantime.

To Libby Carlisle: I want out.

To Stephy: Somehow that went WORSE than I thought it would. Calling an Uber. Be home as fast as I can.

******

“Shit!” Dieter hisses, seeing Libby’s name flash across the screen of his car as he speeds towards his house. He hits ignore, unwilling to talk to her right now, this is just as much her fault as it is yours. Glaring at the road and ignoring the other calls that come in. He is unavailable.

******

When you finally make it home it’s well past Nora’s bedtime and Steph is already sitting in the living room waiting for you to come through the door. “I never want to lay eyes on that inconsiderate asshole ever again,” you tell her, slamming your purse down on the table by the door and practically ripping the high heels off your feet.

“Oh god, what happened?” Steph feels horrible, you look like you are on the verge of tears. She feels so guilty, knowing that the only reason you went on the date was because he had paid her bills.

The throw blankets on the living room couch cover your legs, shoulders, and arms as you curl up in the corner of the plush piece of furniture, effectively blotting your marks out so you don’t have to see them to think about the inescapable connection. “He’s rude, careless, absolutely infuriating. I mean who goes to the bathroom for thirty fucking minutes? Just gets out of his seat with no explanation and disappears while there are cameras pointed at me?!” You feel like you’re shaking but who knows if that’s anger, the chill of the air conditioning in the house that you were finally able to turn on again, or some kind of deeply ingrained response to being abandoned. “By the time he came back I was pissed, and we kept arguing and he just fucking took off. Stranded me there.”

“Kept arguing?” Steph’s brows raise and she doesn’t know what to think. You’ve never been an exceptionally argumentative person, except when she was battling you over letting her help so it’s surprising you hadn’t tried to get along with Dieter. Although maybe because it’s Dieter is why you didn’t. “Tell me what he said.”

“I just think it’s completely impossible for us to have a conversation without biting each other’s heads off.” So far you’ve done nothing but fight, and while you know you’re not totally innocent in all this, you’re definitely not the only one at fault. The deep breath you take to gather yourself is interrupted by your phone ringing, and Steph pops up to grab it from your purse just in case.

Incoming call: Libby Carlisle

Groaning at the device in your hand, you burrow deeper into your blanket pile and shrug at Steph. “I guess I can explain it to both of you at once.” You tell her, swiping open the call. “Libby. Did you talk to him yet?” You’re curious how exactly he portrayed you in his version of the night.

His manager blows out a frustrated breath and shakes her head, even though you can’t see her. “No, calls are being ignored. Although I’ve already seen the video of him storming out of the restaurant. What happened? Dieter never gets that mad.” She not blaming you, at least not yet, but she needs to know so she can fix this.

“Oh good, so it’s already all over the internet. Superb.” Sarcasm drips from your voice and you tap the Speaker Phone icon on your screen. “He was argumentative and combative the entire night. Kept his damn sunglasses on the whole time. Left me sitting alone at the table for a half an hour so he could go to the bathroom and probably get high again. And then when he came back it took about five minutes before he completely stormed out and stranded me there.”

“Dieter’s been taking daily drug tests, so I doubt it was to get high.” It doesn’t mean it’s not possible, but she had been strict with him about staying clean this time. She doesn’t mention that he called her, but it was only for a few minutes and his conversation with her was private. Nor does she mention the glasses are used when he’s uncomfortable. A buffer between him and world. “What caused him to storm out? Just the bickering?”

“Apparently the last straw was me calling him out on having horrible taste in art.” You scoff, too angry to even consider that the comment may have been a little too far over the line. “Triangle tattoos are what brainless teenagers would pick. I teach brainless teenagers. I’ve seen what they draw on with markers during study hall.”

“Oh shit.” Libby breathes out, sighing heavily. Of all the things that you could have insulted Dieter with, that was probably the worst thing you could have chosen. She shoves her fingers into her closed eyeballs and rubs them, trying to figure out a way to get Dieter to answer the fucking phone. “Shit, no wonder he’s not answering.” That comment was more for herself than for you, understanding now why Dieter had left you at the restaurant.

“I want out of the contract.” You tell her, not bothering to pursue any kind of question about why he did what he did. Because he’s an asshole. That’s why. “There’s no way this is going to work. We can’t stand each other.”

“I’m sorry, that’s not going to happen.” Libby can sympathize, but at the end of the day, you signed the contract without coercion, and she needed this to make Dieter more marketable. “That contract is ironclad.” She tells you. “However, I will alter your next outing. Make it something that has less interaction.”

“It better be the theater with us going in two different cars so we never have to speak.” Libby can’t see you pouting from the other end of the phone but she can probably hear it. Steph, on the other hand, reaches to wrap you up in a hug and pulls you into her lap to rub your back soothingly. She’s not going to say a word while you have this other woman on speaker phone, but maybe she can help calm you a little.

“Just- I’ll let you know.” She huffs out. “I’ve got to go talk to Dieter.” This was not how she wanted to spend her night. “Talk him down.” She hangs up without another word and grabs her keys.

“Shit.” The word comes out of you in a hiccup and you bury your face in your best friend’s shoulder. “Shit shit. Soulmates are bullshit.” For more than a decade you’ve been certain that your soulmate pairing was a cosmic joke, and nothing has proven that to you more than tonight.

“It’s okay.” Now is not the time to remind you of all the successful soulmates out there, including her and your brother. You seem hurt, humiliated and upset. “It’s okay, hun. It’ll work out.”

“Fucking how?” When the tears finally come, they’re hot and endless, an angry river tracking down your cheeks and soaking Steph’s shirt. “The entire world is gonna know what happened tonight. That’s exactly what I never wanted.”

“So what?” Steph knows that you are stronger than this. “Dieter is the one that looks like an ass, not you.”

“He’s an ass, but I’m the pathetic sack of shit who was screamed at and ditched in public.” Abandonment is not something you take lightly and she knows that. “How am I supposed to be a good role model for my students? For Nora? When I can’t stick by my own morals long enough to stay away from that bastard.”

“You can always poison him.” Steph suggests, although she’s joking. “I’ll give back the money.” She doesn’t know how, but she would do anything for you. “That way you don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“He didn’t give it to you, honey.” As much as it pains you now, you did do this for a reason. “He gave it to the bank and the hospital. Besides,” you look up at her and sniffle, wiping the water from your eyes. “I already signed the contract. Never mind the fact that I can’t afford a lawyer so there’s probably shit in there I didn’t understand fully. Apparently, it’s iron clad.”

“I’m so sorry.” Steph apologizes quietly. “I should have never meddled.” She hates that you are upset because of what she had done. She was going to fix it, even if it meant kicking your soulmate’s ass herself.

******

“Dieter!” Libby has had a key to his mansion and known his security codes for fifteen years, so when she flings herself into the house it’s not a matter of getting to him, but wondering what kind of state he’ll be in when she does. She’s relatively lucky, considering all the different levels and types of intoxication she’s seen from him over the years, and the one member of his security team on duty at the house tonight because he was supposed to be out directs her to the pool. Rico watched Dieter raid his bar cabinets on the security feed and tells Libby as much, glad that it’s nothing anything harder. He cares about the guy - Dieter Bravo might be a fuckin eccentric but he has a heart. God only knows what happened tonight. “Dieter!” Libby screeches to a halt in the backyard, stopping to catch her breath. “Jesus, Dee. I’m—how are you doing?”

Dieter swings his head around, stripped down to his underwear, blinking and then pointing the wine bottle in his hand at Libby. “You!” He growls dramatically. “Fixxx iiiiittttt. N-never want to seeee that bitch again.” He emphasizes the ‘bitch’ loudly, and then holds up his phone. “D-didyouknowyoucanhavesoulmatemarksremoved? Plasssshtik suuuurgery.” He informs her, blinking primly.

“I know tonight wasn’t great.” Boy is that a goddamn understatement. Libby shakes her head and walks to the side of the pool, sitting down on the end of a lounge chair so she can talk to him without shouting. Hopefully. “I’m sorry about what she said, Dee. It wasn’t fair.”

“Fuck her.” He scowls and shakes his head. “Not like— l-literally.” He huffs, before he takes another long swig off the bottle and belches. You’d probably cut his dick off and he happens to like his dick. It’s fun.

“I know.” Getting up from her seat, Libby moves behind his outdoor bar, emptying the bare end of a bottle of vodka and filling it up with water instead. At this point he’s so gone he probably won’t even notice, and he needs to hydrate. “You should have told her what they mean.” She tells him, offering him the vodka bottle of water in return for the empty wine bottle in his hand. “She might have apologized if she knew.” Of course it’s not as simple as all that, but it would be a step in the right direction.

“She w-wouldn’t caaaaare.” He insists, spinning around after he takes the bottle and tossing it back for several long gulps. “She hates me.” That makes him pout, still not understanding why. He huffs and mumbles under his breath. “She’s mean.”

You definitely do hate him, she has to admit to that, but she smiles to see him drinking water without realizing it. Sometimes Dieter was his own worst enemy in taking care of himself. “Next time will be better,” she promises. An idea is forming but she needs to check on some things first. No matter what, though, her original plan of sending them to walk the Santa Monica Pier is definitely scrubbed for now. They’ll never survive.

“No next time.” Dieter shakes his head so hard he gets dizzy, groaning and stumbling over to the lounger where he had been sitting before getting up to get the wine bottle and wander. “Not good.”

“Dee, I need you to trust me on this.” The side-by-side comparison of you screaming ‘Fuck you, Bravo!’ And yelling ‘Fuck you, too!’ In the restaurant are already popping up all over social media and she’s already had the PR team from Mate Marks down her throat because no one takes Friday nights off in LA. She has to fix this. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yesssssss.” Despite being a ball buster, she’s had his back. Helped him whenever she could. “Why’s she soooooo mean?”

“I don’t know.” Libby sighs, sitting down beside him on the lounger and shaking her head. It’s a complete mystery to her, to be honest, because Dieter’s not so bad in reality. Sure his image sucks, but those twerps on the Cliff Beasts franchise are to blame for a lot of the current predicament. “But I’m going to do everything I can to make sure the next time you see her, everything goes okay. Do you trust me to do that?”

Dieter sighs and takes another sip of the water in the vodka bottle. “I guess.” He huffs, turning and looking at her with a drunk serious expression. “But thiiiisssss is it.”

“This contract is it.” There are clauses in the damn thing. Damage control to be used for situations like the one you caused tonight. He’s not going to be a fan of it when he realizes that it means extra time with you, but it has to be done. She’s worked too hard over all their years together to just let him flounder. “No more after that unless you want to.”

He scoffs, shaking his head and letting it drop back onto the lounger. The bottle slips out of his hand and thunks against the concrete, spilling water, but he doesn’t pay attention. Busy reaching over and tracing the solid triangle tattoo on his arm.

“I know.” I’m not going to want to. Is what that sigh means, and she reaches over to right the bottle gently. “I’m get Malcolm to book you something with a nice location shoot after all this is over.” She’s still confident in her plan. That the offers will start rolling back in after the public is reminded that Dieter has a heart and doesn’t just think with his dick or a pile of drugs. “You loved Switzerland. We’ll find you something filming in Croatia.”

“Yeah.” Dieter’s loved Sitzerland since he had filmed there ten years ago, healing emotionally through a difficult time. “Sounds good.”

“Good.” She nods, reaching over to rub his back a little now that he’s calming down. “Danica would be proud of you, Dee. You’ve been doing so well these last couple of weeks. Don’t toss it out just because she made you mad. Okay?” His sister was his rock - his guiding light and his support system. Losing her nearly destroyed him, and you poked that wound hard tonight.

“Okay…” Dieter closes his eyes, sighing heavily, trying not to cry when he thinks about what you said. How you judged him, judged his sister.

“Do you want me to help you go inside? Or should I get Rico to check on you in a little bit?” She has some work to do, and probably needs a drink of her own now that she knows what set him off. Danica Bravo was an amazing person, and she knows you’ll feel guilty as fuck when you find out what you actually said to him. There’s no way you’re heartless enough to not care.

“Imma stay here.” Dieter murmurs, a little calmer now that he’s talked it out, that someone knows his pain. The sounds of the waterfall feature in the pool are soothing to him. Humming to himself quietly as he tries to remember the little prayer Danica would work him through when he needed to meditate.

“Okay.” Libby sighs quietly, hoisting herself up from the lounger, and squeezes his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“M’kay.” His eyes don’t open, he just lifts his hand in a sloppy wave goodbye, letting his hand fall to his lap after a moment.

On her way out, Libby stops to check in with Rico, asking the young man to make sure Dieter makes it to bed and to shoot her a text if anything happens that she should know about. He isn’t exactly phased by this kind of night since working for Dieter Bravo isn’t a low-key environment, but the man does seem a lot more upset tonight than he has since his last premiere. Maybe he’ll cook something after his boss goes to bed and leave it in the fridge for the morning. A quiche for him to warm up or he could bake some fresh pastries - Mr. Bravo would like that. The little things mean a lot to him.

******

Steph is pissed, actually stopping and buying one of those ‘Homes of the Stars’ maps to figure out where Bravo lives. You had cried yourself to sleep, especially after watching the implosion on social media and the memes being created. #dud4dieter was trending on Twitter. Surprised by the lack of gate around his house, she marches right up to the front door. “Open up Bravo!”

Never a dull moment. Rico huffs to himself when he hears pounding on the front door. A woman’s voice but not one he recognizes, so he washes his hands and pulls the pan of bacon off the burner lest his quiche become burnt bacon, cherry tomatoes, and spinach. Mr. Bravo isn’t in bed yet but he definitely can’t hear the front door from the pool.

“Can I help you?” He asks the woman standing on the front steps, after having watched enough security footage of her standing there to ascertain that she definitely doesn’t have a weapon. Only a temper. Must be a lover.

“Where is he?” Stephanie demands, stepping closer with the face that only a mother could produce, one that promises a swift knock upside the head. “Jerk! He humiliated her!”

“I’m afraid I can’t let you in, miss.” Carefully stepping outside, Rico is maybe two inches taller than this woman in his work boots, and the kitchen apron probably doesn’t help him look any more intimidating, but whatever. “Mr. Bravo’s not seeing visitors right now.”

“I’m not a visitor.” Steph grits out. “I’m the best friend, sister, of the soulmate he fucking abandoned at dinner tonight.” She tells him. “I’m going to calmly listen to his reasons and then I’m going to kick his ass, now let me by.”

“O-okay.” He doesn’t want to laugh, as this woman is clearly upset, but he’s never seen anyone make angry look so adorable before. She’s like a grumpy Care Bear…but hot. “I’m afraid even having a reason doesn’t stop you from being a visitor, and he’s not seeing any more visitors tonight. If you want, I can pass alone message that you stopped by.”

“I don’t think you heard me.” She huffs, drawing herself up to her not-so-impressive full height. “He made my fucking best friend cry, and she wants to cancel the contract she has to appear with him. Let. Me. By.”

“Okay, okay, okay.” He holds up both hands, understanding that this is not the normal situation of nosy fan or spurned lover. “Can you give me your name, miss? I’ll see if he’s willing to speak to you.”

“Stephanie Valeria.” She tells him. “He should know it, he just paid off a shit ton of my debt. But I’m still going to kick his ass.”

“I’m gonna ask you to stay right here, Miss Valeria. I’ll be back in just a second.” He doesn’t necessarily think she’s going to listen considering the state she’s in, but the intercom panel that reaches the pool is right inside the front door. “Mr. Bravo. You have a visitor, sir.” He’s watching her through the peephole in the door, surprised when she actually does stay put as the intercom crackles to life.

“If it’s herrrr, tell her we aren’t soulmates anymore.” Dieter huffs.

“Her name is Stephanie Valeria, sir.” It has a ring to it that Rico likes, and he watches her closely purely for work purposes. “She’s pretty upset, but insists she needs to speak with you. I can send her away.”

“Steph - Steph- ohhhhh Stephy!!” He had decided he liked her, she had manners. “Sure. Let her in.”

“If you’re sure, sir.” Rico clicks off the intercom after a moment of hesitation and moves to open the front door. “Come inside,” he tells her, admittedly surprised at the development. “I’ll bring you through to the pool.”

Steph follows the man, obviously some kind of butler, through the surprisingly gorgeous house. Dieter dressed like a slob but he either had a fantastic designer or he had taste. Her money was on a designer. “Is he always an asshole?” She demands. “Or does he save that for his soulmate?”

Rico glances back at her and almost laughs again, but catches himself. He doesn’t know what she’s referring to and doesn’t want to seem like an asshole himself. “He hasn’t had it easy, despite what you might think. But he’s a good boss and a decent man. Just…maybe a little mercurial.”

She’s quiet while he brings her out to the patio. Watching as Dieter stumbles over and greets her. “Heyyy Stephy. You’re nice, I like you.”

You’re not going to like me right now. She thinks, storming past the butler to point one finger directly in Dieter’s face. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing humiliating her like that? What is wrong with you?!”

His friendly grin falls and the look he gives her is positively insulted. “Me? I didn’t do shit!” In the hours since Libby left, Dieter has managed to sober up slightly. He backs away from Steph and shakes his head. “I did nothing to her, she insults me the second she meets me and now she doesn’t like matching energies? Fuck her. She insulted my tattoos.”

“So you ditch her at the restaurant? Do you even know what people are saying about her now?” She holds up her phone, the screen full to bursting with the whole world’s proclamation that her best friend is scum. “You can’t tell me she’s the first person to ever dislike your tattoos.” Stephanie doesn’t belief that for a second.

Dieter squints at the screen and winces before he remembers that he’s not supposed to care. He scoffs and looks away. “Too fucking bad. She told me that my tattoos were, and I quote ‘meaningless edgy drivel’. The tattoo that my sister had.” He points at the filled-in triangle. “And the fucking empty one I got in her memory. Empty like my fucking heart.” He tells Stephanie as he points at the one on his other arm. “She said I got them because I like threesomes. So again, fuck her.”

“Ah shit.” Steph’s face falls, understanding deep grief in that way that she is a widow and an orphan. Her heart would be just as empty if she didn’t have you and Nora to keep her afloat. “You should have told her,” she murmurs, pocketing her phone and shoving her hands into the meager pockets of her jeans as well. “Sh—she would have apologized.”

“I don’t want a stuck-up bitch’s apology.” Dieter shakes his head and turns, walking over to his bar again. Bringing it all up meant he needed another drink. “She fucking hated me the second she saw me. Don’t have a fucking clue what I did, but she would probably laugh. Want a drink?” He asks. Just because he’s pissed doesn’t mean he doesn’t have manners.

“She wouldn’t.” Steph knows that for sure. Losing a sibling is a pain you know all too well. “She’s loyal. Like to a fault sometimes. One time…look, it’s going to sound stupid to you, and I’m not mad about it. But she clearly holds a grudge like an Olympian.” She takes a deep breath, half wishing she had never come and half glad that she has. At least now she has a better idea of what’s going on and can maybe help. “About ten years ago I was hanging out outside the Chateau Marmont because I heard you were there for an interview or something. I wanted to get your autograph...tell you that my best friend was your soulmate…all that stuff. And when you came out of the hotel you just looked right through me and turned away.” She shrugs, knowing it sound stupid and trying to assure him that she’s not upset about it anymore. “I was crushed, and I made the mistake of going home and telling her about it. It just sort of…confirmed her bias. After that was when she started covering her marks and never wanted to acknowledge you.”

Chateau Marmont…Dieter pales, setting down the bottle of whiskey he had been about to pour two shots from. He has never stepped foot in that place since that day. “What day?” He demands. “What day did I blow you off?”

“January third.” It feels silly to remember the exact date like that, but it was a huge turning point for her best friend, and she remembers it vividly. “January third, 2012.”

He blinks at her, feeling like his heart has a vice around it. “I remember you.” He murmurs. “I think.” He swallows harshly and looks down at the tattoo on his arm, the full one. The one that Danica had on her own body in the exact same spot. Representing past, present and future. “I— I had just gotten the call.” He explains. “‘Mr. Bravo? This is Trooper Chris Thomas with California Highway Patrol. I regret to inform you that your sister, Danica Bravo, has been involved in a major vehicular accident on the 101. I’m sorry sir, she died on scene.’.” They were words that had been repeated in his head a million times. “So, I’m sorry.” He looks back over at Stephanie. “I wasn’t really there. You know?”

“I’m so sorry.” She steps forward immediately but stops herself, unsure if a hug would be completely inappropriate even though she’s desperate to offer some kind of comfort. “You do not need to apologize to me for that day. And I know without a doubt that she’ll regret what she said if you let me tell her.”

“Don’t tell her.” Dieter pours the shots and holds one out to Steph. “I’d rather not find out my soulmate really hates me after all.”

“She used to adore you.” She shouldn’t say it. It’s not her place. But this is just — it’s too goddamn important and she can’t stomach the idea of you not knowing your soulmate. After all, that’s why she answered the ad campaign on your behalf in the first place. Steph takes the shot with a nod and downs it, appreciating the burn. “What happened back then…it wasn’t your fault at all. She was such a big fan when we were teenagers.”

“Well, that changed.” Dieter tosses back his own shot and pours both of you another round. “You lost your husband, right? The little one’s dad?” He asks. “Was he your soulmate?”

"Yes. He was." She takes the second shot as a peace offering and appreciates it as exactly that. "Shawn was three years older than us. "We're both from San Francisco originally. First day of seventh grade, we both started at a new school, and we were inseparable. The day I met Shawn I knew he was it for me, even though we didn't know we were soulmates yet."

“That’s good to know.” Dieter sighs and snorts. “My first experience with my ‘soulmate’ was getting scammed.”

"That guy. What was it, like seven or eight years ago?" She remembers reading about it, always keeping track of what was going on with him even when you insisted you wanted no part of it.

“About nine.” Dieter huffs, rolling his eyes. “It was - I was still messed up from Danica dying and latched onto him like he was my saving grace.” Liquor makes him chatty and despite her yelling at him a few minutes ago, he likes her. She doesn’t fight him on everything. “Said he knew when I got the triangle tattoos.” He bites his lip and motions for her to bring her glass over for another shot.

"I'm sorry." Steph holds out the empty glasses and promises herself that it will be the last one, since the drive back home is an hour long and her baby is at the other end of it waiting. "Some people have no conscience. For him to take advantage of you like that...it's just...it's horrible. You didn't deserve that."

Dieter shrugs pours another round for both of them. “Sure, I do. I’m just a rich, famous asshole.” He quips, giving her a mocking grin and lifting his glass in a toast before tossing it back.

"You're a person." She insists, raising her glass the same way and taking the shot he's poured her. "And people deserve respect. Well...people and dollies, according to my four-year-old."

“What’s wrong with her?” He asks, wincing when he hears himself. “If you don’t mind me asking. I just— all the bills…”

"They don't know all of it." Steph's head hangs low near her shoulders. Nora's illness is one of those things that keeps her up at night, telling her she's a bad mother and the universe is punishing her for not finding a way to save Shawn by taking her daughter, too. "I mean, she has Crohn's Disease. It's...digestive. They used to say it was an auto-immune disorder, but some people say differently now. There's a lot of stuff she can't eat because of it and a lot of medicine she has to take but...but there's other stuff. Stuff that doesn't line up with the Crohn's that her doctors can't figure out. So on top of the bills for her treatments there's also loads of tests and...and some emergency room trips." She huffs out a sigh and shrugs, wrapping her arms around her own waist. "Thank you. For what you did. You have no idea how you've changed our lives."

“I— don’t thank me.” Dieter flushes, not just from the alcohol in his system. “I made a call, that’s it. I wasn’t asking about that to get you to thank me.”

"I know you weren't. But you did something extraordinary for my daughter and me and I'm grateful." What is simple to him means the world to her. "We were about two months away from losing the house and it's the only home Nora's ever known. Her Gigi moved in when her dad got sick and...I'd hate for her to lose the memories of him that she actually has. His memory is in that house."

“Damn.” Dieter rubs the cheek in embarrassment, but also pride, knowing that he helped them out. Not you, he’s ignoring that the original intent was to help his soulmate out, but that’s soured. “So, she hadn’t gotten to really enjoy much, has she? With the struggling to make ends meet?”

"We took her on vacation once, when she was about a year old." It was when the whole world looked bright and the future was sunny, and sometimes Steph brought out those pictures when she couldn't sleep at night from worrying just to remember what it felt like to be optimistic. "My husband was big into the national parks and the three of us went to the Grand Canyon. But she doesn't remember it."

“Well, now you can start planning more vacations that she will remember.” Dieter tells her, happy that he could contribute.

“She can have all new school things for kindergarten in fall.” She tells him, perfectly aware that she’s swelling with happiness at being able to give Nora all the normal parts of childhood that she thought her daughter would have to miss out on.

“What if she into? Other than dollies?” Dieter asks, interested in what she considered important. He liked kids; they were cool little humans.

“She’s big into cowgirls and space because of Toy Story.” Steph digs into her purse and pulls out her wallet, eventually digging out a picture of Nora dressed up like Jessie from Toy Story 2 from last Halloween. Steph had taken it herself, and you are kneeling beside Nora in front of the house wearing the white robe and cinnamon bun hairdo for Princess Leia that you had worn to school that day. “Someday I’m going to take her to Disneyland. Maybe sooner rather than later, now. Thanks to you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dieter suddenly yawns, exhausted by the emotional bullshit and the booze. “So, are you still going to kick my ass?” He asks, smirking slightly at how ferocious she had sounded when she showed up.

“I still think you should tell her what they’re for.” She gestures to his tattoos, knowing that you’ll feel horrible for insulting them when you finally find out what they mean to him. “But I’ll reserve my right to kick ass for the future.” She sighs again, stifling a contagious yawn of her own - it’s way past her bedtime. “I know neither of you is happy with the situation but just…will you give her another chance? I swear she’s actually a sweet, fiercely loving person. You just…you have to crack the surface first.”

“I’ll give her a chance when she gives me one.” Dieter offers after a moment, unwilling to give more than that. “You need to go home.” He decides, walking over to the intercom and pressing a button. “Rico? Order a car for Ms. Valeria.” He tells his security.

“Never been anywhere with a butler before,” Steph jokes, awkwardly trying to leave the night on a higher note than it started. “Well, um…good night, Dieter. And…thank you, again. I swear that’s the last time I’ll say it.”

“Thank me by giving her a great life.” Dieter tells her, feeling bittersweet about his own upbringing.

Steph nods, reaching out to squeeze his arm instead of the hug she wants to give him. “I will.”

“Goodnight.” He offers, waving awkwardly as she walks into the house. Snorting to himself as he puts the cap back on the whiskey. You would give him a chance when hell froze over.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri

YSV: @tortor-mcgee @hnt-escape @sammus-white

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x reader #Dieter Bravo x you #Dieter Bravo x female reader #The Bubble #soulmate au #enemies to lovers #Trash Can Man #tw family death #tw car accident #tw alcohol consumption

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musings-and-moans · 2 years

Text

No Need to Imagine

submission for: @suckerforsugawara 's A First Time for Everything Collab

features: tetsuro kuroo x f!reader (college au)

synopsis: when you two met for the first time in university, you never thought that your first kiss with him would lead to you two losing your virginity to each other.

warnings: consumption of alcohol, virginity loss, fingering, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), hickeys, protected sex, overstimulation, based on a real-life experience, kuroo is so good at aftercare omg

song: heaven by julia michaels

number of words: 4k (okay, I never thought it would be this long but here I am lol)

beta reading: @wakatshi @saltyvanilla @mrskenmakozume (ily all thank you so much 😭)

tagging: @beware-of-the-rogue @rueren @cirigiri @sabyss @festive @megumischubbycheeks @solamoure @wakasa-wifey @p-antomime @mxonigirimiya @oikawas-milk-bread @lunaevangeline @tetsoorou @hyeque @novaresque @jordyn-degas

(taglist form / library account, turn on notifications to be updated)

a/n: blame it on the haikyuu oneshot that gave me a major kuroo brainrot and so i decided to write this earlier than expected. i hope i do justice to writing this story ‘cause i’ve not written smut in ages and i’m feeling nervous lol. likes, comments, and especially reblogs are appreciated.

You began checking the email addresses of fellow students who had been accepted along with you as soon as you received the email informing you that you had been accepted to the Nekoma Student Association, and one ID stood out to you: [email protected]. While that intrigued you, you respond that you accept the position and look forward to attending the meeting.

When you walked into the meeting hall the next weekend, your gaze was drawn to a six-foot-tall, jet-black-haired man dressed in a tan-leather jacket over a black shirt, blue jeans, and white converse shoes. As you approached the group that was conversing amongst themselves, his hazel eyes darted to your (e/c) irises, causing him to smile warmly. “Hi, I am (F/N) (L/N), are you all a part of the new team?” you said confidently as you greeted everyone. Everyone nodded, and the guy who first noticed you shook your hand and said, “Hi, (L/N)-chan, I'm Tetsuro Kuroo,” he said, smiling, “I can't wait to get to work with you!”

Following the orientation session, the President directed you to interact and bond with the new team members. As you began to learn more about your fellow members, you noticed Kuroo's gaze on you from the corner of your eye for the longest time. As you all decided to go out to eat, your peripheral vision lingered on Kuroo as you all laughed at his jokes. When everyone had parted ways, you felt a tap on your shoulder, which prompted you to turn to Kuroo, who then inquired, “Shouldn't we? This is where my house is,” pointing in the general direction of your house.

“Wait, do you live here as well?” you asked, your mouth agape. He chuckled when he found out you two were neighbours. You sauntered beside him, shrugging your shoulders and conversing about various topics. You then discovered that he loved volleyball and had represented his high school as Captain at Nationals. “You are, indeed, interesting, Captain,” you wink as you two walk to your houses. He smirks a little, replying, “I like it when you call me that,” approaching you to sultrily whisper in your ear, “do it again,” winking as he went towards his house, your cheeks reddening and your thighs clenching.

Time passes, and you spend more time with Kuroo, bonding with him as you prepare for your first events as a member of the organising committee, all of which were successful. You found solace in studying together without saying anything, just sensing each other's presence. There wasn't a night that went by without your long walks and late-night talks that always included some beer cans, despite the fact that beer wasn't your favourite drink and you wanted to change the taste with the taste of his lips. You gulped in some air, shaking your head in denial, oblivious to Kuroo's gaze on your lips and his mental desire to slowly unravel you.

The chilly winds were beginning to blow one day, and you receive a text from Kuroo in which he announces that he has a part-time job for the first time, and as a celebration, he proposes to finish a Cabernet Sauvignon bottle that he recently purchased. You accept his offer, chuckling to yourself, and rush to the kitchen to grill some chicken. You've just finished cooking when you hear a knock on the door. You smile as you rush to the door and see Kuroo standing in front of you with the wine bottle. He beams at you, showing you what he bought along with the wine: your favourite box of chocolates.

If anyone was to come and see you two, they'd think that you and Kuroo have been friends for years. There was a sense of comfort that took over the feeling of nervousness, as you two spoke about anything and everything. What you two were choosing to ignore, however, was the number of stolen glances and accidental touches towards each other. This is when Kuroo asked, “So (L/N)-chan, what was dating like for you? How many people did you date and sleep with?” This causes you to cough in major nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, “Kuroo-kun, you know you can call me (Y/N) right?” Chuckling, he replied, shrugging, “I know, and you can call me Tetsuro, you know that right?” You smile, take a deep breath, and muster the courage to let him know, “I've dated men, yes, and I just got out of a 2-year relationship months ago, but I've never slept with anyone, just made out.” Looking down at the ground, you confessed, “I was always scared that my first time wouldn't be special. Also, lately, I've been having thoughts, musings if you will, about a certain someone that makes me go insane.”

After humming and looking down, Tetsuro looked into your eyes, realization hitting him, “Oya?” while raising an eyebrow. He smiles and continues, “It's the same for me, y'know? My ex called it off with me recently, because I didn't want to go all the way. So I'm hoping our first time will be special,” he said, biting his tongue when he realized his mistake. A wicked smile crept across your face as you said, “You mean your first time.” You grin and draw in closer, whispering to him, “Maybe it's the wine, but I miss being kissed and held, and perhaps I want to get over with it.” He draws closer and admits he feels the same way.

There was so much tension that a knife could cut right through it. Even as your thighs clench and you take ragged breaths, you both maintain eye contact. As you draw closer, your lips brush against his. Just as you're about to kiss for the first time, one of your phones rings, and you jump in fright. On Tetsuro's phone, the text read “Taketora Yamamoto.” You'd learned that Yamamoto was an old school friend of Tetsuro's that he played volleyball with. He was reminding Tetsuro of a university-related event that all of you were supposed to attend at night.

After you both realized you were tipsy, you decided to go for a walk to shake it off. Several minutes later, when the event ended, you all decided to walk home, but you felt dizzy. So, instead of hailing a taxi, you yelled at a white pickup truck that was approaching and yelled “Howdy!” The two boys were shocked and delighted and jumped in the back of the pickup truck as it took you back home. Yamamoto walks off and you two stare at each other, but then you both turn around and go back to your apartments.

Upon reaching home, you get a text from him, saying, “Oi, just to let you know, I wanted to kiss you, I wanted to stay. I wanted to sleep while hugging you.” You started twiddling your thumbs when he calls, causing you to confess that you needed it just as much as he, and that you were standing outside your apartment, waiting for him. The moon and stars were the only witnesses to your wanton need for him. The rustling of the leaves, along with your languid breaths and pacing heartbeats, were the only sounds you could hear on this calm November night.

Not for long though, because suddenly, you heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to your apartment. You turned to your left to see that he was wearing a navy-blue t-shirt and black sweatpants with flip-flops. All inhibition seemed to slowly fade away and turn into a desire to feel every inch of him, caressing his cheeks, kissing his lips, wondering what it would feel like when he was totally in sync with you.

You didn't have to wait for long as he approached you, his lips landing on yours, while you two cupped each other's cheeks, and ranked nails through each other's hair. To you, his lips felt cold, touch-starved, but tasted sweet and intoxicating, just like the wine you two had. To him, your lips were warm, like a calming beach, where you'd be sipping on sangria. Lost in each other, you walk backward and he forward as you lock the main door, ignoring anyone else's presence. Both of you then dash toward the bedroom, locking the door then jump on the bed, kissing hard, sucking on each other's bottom lip and swirling your tongue around his and vice versa, to gain control, until he stopped you, and he purred, reassuringly, “(Y/N), I want to let you know that I'll be gentle, and I'll take my time. I want to know you, every part of you, and hopefully claim them all to be mine.”

When you nodded, giving him permission to continue, you started taking notice of every movement of his. You continued kissing as he hiked up your (F/C) sweatshirt to let his fingers run through your waist, the chilly air from the ajar windows grazing your skin, causing you to tremble and tilt your face upward and your mouth a little open, causing him to kiss you hard, rasping, “Do you want me to take off your shirt?”

While you hummed in response and kept your arms up, and your lips were glued to each other, sitting up with your elbows, he took off your sweatshirt. Then, you rolled up his t-shirt and took it off as soon as you got out of the kiss, carefully inspecting every inch of his beautiful physique with your fingers. You were clearly in awe of him and this moment. “I can’t believe I get to do this with you,” you murmur as your eyes got to see everything, finally your gaze landing on his hazel eyes.

He holds you by your waist, picks you up, perches you on your lap, and puts his arms around the small of your back as you straddle him with your arms around his neck, the two of you do not stop smiling. “Have I ever told you, (Y/N), that you’re beautiful?” Tetsurō tells you with a soft smile, causing you to blush and look the other way, the incandescent light of the moon shining on your face. The moon and the stars were the only witnesses to the two of you exploring intimacy in a whole new dimension. He lifts your chin with his finger, bringing you to look at him as he carefully unhooks your bra, peels it off, and discards it on the ground, with your breasts on display.

This time, it was Tetsurō who had his mouth wide open, gasping, “I can’t believe you hid them from me, (Y/N) ‘cause they look so perfect,” and he cups both of your mounds and fondles with them, his thumbs flicking your nipples, causing your pussy to throb, and you tilt your head backward, biting your lip. He increases the pace of his flicking, causing you to whimper further, and grind slowly on him. He then says, “can I go down on you, would you like that?,” and you smile and nod as he picks you by your butt, you wrap your legs around his waist, and places you gently on the bed, with your head on the pillow.

With careful intention, he slowly and gently takes off your black pants and sees your lace underwear, causing him to smirk as he sees the wetness through. He teases while splaying one of his hands over your tummy, “seems to me like you’ve been waiting for it for a long time, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.” He slowly takes the lace off your legs as your wetness was a full-on display for his ravenous eyes while licking his lips.

“I’m going to do it slowly, please tell me if you like it or not,” Tetsuro breathed, causing you to nod and his fingers start to explore every part of you, the wetness, the clit, the folds, every single touch was sending you into a frenzy. He finds and then starts rubbing your clit in a clockwise motion. Closing your eyes harder, you whimper while you’re arching your head up, crying out his name and whimpering, “Oooh Tetsuro, it feels so nice.”

Both of you started to speak an unspoken language full of intense eye contact, moans, and groans as he kept stroking your clit, increasing the pace and intensity. The words, “it feels so good, please don’t stop,” were reverberating in the air in the room. As you were breathing heavily and trembling, he kept quietening you saying, “it’s going to be okay, I got you. Then, with your wetness as lube, he inserted one of his slender fingers into your pussy, the slightest movement causing you to arch your back and mewl louder.

“Oh, my, shit,” Tetsuro cried out, “you really are tight. Damn, I love this pussy already,” while pushing the finger in and out slowly, stimulating you in a way you’d never felt before. You then cry, “please go a little faster,” while biting back a moan, to which he replies, “with pleasure, baby,” as he increases his pace. “Don’t hold back, I want to hear you moan,” he says as you move your hips along the fingering movement, continuing to moan. That’s when he inserts another finger and says, “I’m going to start to exploring you with my mouth, so why don’t you spread your legs for me, hmm?”

As an act of obedience, you spread your legs, showing him with great detail how it looked. He first starts to kiss your clit, still maintaining eye contact with you, but you break it to close your eyes and be lost in the pleasure. As he kisses your clit, he sucks on your folds, slowly, while still fingering you with two fingers. Your hands were fisting on the sheets, and you couldn’t hold back your screams as he was doing it so well.

For a brief moment, you remembered something. You couldn't believe it was his first time too, because, he seemed to know his way around your body much better than you did while you were touching yourself when you were alone. A coil was slowly building up within you as he took out his fingers and fully eat you out with his hands on your thighs until you yell, “Tetsu, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, ngh-” your legs start to tremble as the coil snaps.

He holds you steady with his hands, causing you to have your first orgasm of the night and him to slurp in your essence. He then kisses your pussy, gets up, sucks on his fingers to taste your slick, towers over you, with his tummy pressed against yours as he kisses you fervently, both of you get to taste how you tasted. You definitely liked it, you liked the way he did it and would thus never stop asking him from now on.

“Let me make you feel good too,” you plead to Tetsuro as you sit up, putting your hands on his shoulders, making his half-naked body lie down as you perch on top of him, and straddle him, as you lean forward and kiss him sloppily, but you couldn’t care. All your hidden feelings for him were slowly starting to creep up as you released yourself from the kiss and watch the moon reflect on his eyes. You think to yourself, “oh god, how is he so…beautiful?”

You move to a side as he slides the sweatpants off only for you to see him in black boxers. “Damn, you’re packing,” you gasp as you see his bulge. Both of you chuckle, as your hands stroke him, causing him to lean his head back against the headboard, and close his eyes. You peel the boxers off of him, to see his dick slap against his abdomen. “Tetsu, it’s big,” you whimper in nervousness, to which he calmly replies, “(Y/N), baby, I believe you’ll do well. Please take it in, I can’t wait.”

He then starts to feel your lips wrap around the head of his dick, touching nothing else, just your tongue swirling around slowly, getting a taste of his pre-cum. “Baby, please open your eyes and see if I’m making you feel good,” you cry out to him as he tilts his head in your direction and his gaze fixates on you. While maintaining eye contact, your mouth slides all the way down to the base of his dick. You suck, hard, just once. But it's enough for him to feel like you’re pulling the cum out of him.

Tetsuro's lips gaped open and his eyelids rolled back as he closed his eyes, his face flushed with delight. You start moving your lips up and down, back and forth, pushed against his firm length. “Ngh, this feels so good," he whimpers, "I’m so glad that you’re my first.” With a smile on your face, you take one of his hands, run the fingers through your hair, and ask him to guide your speed. Tetsuro took small breaths, lightly thrusting into your mouth, not wanting to actually harm you because he didn't want to overwhelm you.

Tetsuro's lips gaped open and his eyelids rolled back as he closed his eyes, his face flushed with delight. As he brushed his tongue over his teeth, he swallowed, a lump in his throat. Only your low-sucking sounds could be heard as you continued to bob your head and groaned once or twice more. He breathed, "(Y/N)," writhing into your mouth, his nails digging into his calf. He also notices that your hands are caressing his balls. You slide off his dick and spend some time licking and sucking his balls, while stroking the length with one hand, making him moan, as the other hand rubs your clit, quickening the tempo while your knees sink deep into the mattress.

“Baby, that was so incredibly fantastic, I want to enter you,” he cries as you rise up and off the bed, still hooked on him. "Can I? Would you be able to get a condom out of my pants for me?" As he gets up, you walk over to his sweatpants, grab a condom package, hand it to him, and lie down on the bed, ripping the plastic and sliding the rubber on him. He noticed your lips quivering, and you exhaling deeply out of sheer nervousness, causing him to furrow his eyebrows. That’s when he approached you, tummy pressed against yours yet again, and intertwining his fingers with yours. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Tetsuro leans towards you closely and asks out of sheer concern.

When you looked at the reflection of the moon from his eyes, you noticed a sense of sincerity and security from him. You’d always wondered how your first time would look like. How it would feel like. You’d heard a lot of things that happen, including the deep pain you experience, but were curious to experience it yourself. Never did you think, however, that you’d be losing it to someone that you’d bonded with over the span of a couple of months. You’d always viewed him as a friend, but circumstances had caused you two to be closer and eventually start innocently flirting with each other.

One thing led to another and you’re here. Caressing his cheek with your knuckles, you started to feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He always made you feel some type of way, but you never realized how until this very moment. For a split second, however, you thought of your exes, who’d hurt you and betrayed your trust, as flashbacks popped into your head, but you decided to quickly shirk your fear off. You were here, in the moment, with him. That’s when you smile at him, replying softly, “I’ve never been more sure.”

Tetsuro then smiles, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, adding, “I'm going to enter you slowly, okay?” while leaving open-mouthed kisses on the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder and sucking on it. He then aligns the clothed dick with your entrance, continuing, "Please let me know if it hurts,” while you nod. Slowly, he teases your entrance sliding up and down, watching you bite your lower lip as your cunt throbs. Tetsuro then pushes in slowly, with the tip stretching you out, causing you to moan his name and writhe in pain as it stings you a bit. “Baby, it’s okay, I’m here, breathe deeply for me,” he urges, as you regulate your deep breaths while he rubs your clit to help you relax. You then plead, “Baby, ‘s too big, I want you to fill me up,” wrapping your legs around him and arching back, the pain then turning into pleasure as he goes deeper before eventually bottoming out, you throwing your head back and moaning loudly in response.

He then grabs your chin to tilt your head down, maintaining eye contact as his hands push into your hip as he’s thrusting in and out of you. Eventually, he increases the pace as his hands travel to yours, intertwining fingers and pressing his forehead against yours. “Is this okay, baby?” Tetsuro asks, nervously, causing you to tilt your head a bit so that you could kiss him, and you respond by moaning, “Yes, baby, it feels big, it feels amazing. Please, don’t stop,” while scratching your nails on his back. This causes him to groan and increase his pace, and suck on the nipples, before eventually hitting the g-spot. You then curl your toes, while Tetsuro starts to kiss you, muffling your moans as he keeps going.

The sounds of skin slapping and both of you moaning reverberating in the air, with the smell of sex being obvious. Both of you were too intoxicated in the moment, the pleasure overwhelming you two, while Tetsuro explores the upper part of you with his lips. He kisses all over your neck, sucking in on some places marking you and kissing you on those very places. He continues to sink into your cunt as you two kiss each other sloppily, eventually causing you both to reach your high. “Baby, I’m cumming again,” you breathily cry out as he slows down his thrusts lazily, “Yes, baby, go on, cum for me, cum for me,” while he circles your clit with his thumb. With a final thrust, you cum together, his cock twitching and him releasing in the condom, and you gripping him tight and creaming him.

As he pulls out and discards the condom, he notices you whimpering in pain, prompting him to go to the bathroom, pick you up, carry you to the bathroom where you can smell dried flowers and scented candles, and lay you down in the bath tub where he locks the door and joins you. “Are you all right?” Tetsuro inquires, concerned, as your body sinks deep into the water, the warmth relieving the pain. “I've never been better, Tetsuro. I had no idea my first time would be so memorable. Thank you, you admit, exhausted, as he grabs your hands and forces you to lie down on his chest.

“You know,” he nuzzles into your neck, “maybe we should think about dating for real? Given that I've always liked you, and that I'm glad I got to lose it to you as well.” “Babe, I'm so sorry that I never got to ask you, did you like it too?” you ask, widening your eyes and turning your head to face him. Chuckling at you, he strokes your cheek with his knuckles, and says, “I couldn't imagine a better way to do so than to lose it to someone I like,” causing you to blush, nod and lock lips with him. With Tetsuro Kuroo, it truly felt like an endless period of ecstasy.

After that, he gets out of the bathtub, wipes himself, puts another towel on the bed, returns to the bedroom, and wipes you dry. He then urges you to wear his t-shirt, which may appear oversized to you, but you adore the gesture, while he wears boxers. You then put on some music, cover yourselves, and he kisses your forehead and gives you a peck on the lips before snuggling into him and drifting off to sleep, looking forward to more nights with him. You didn't have to imagine how you felt at the end of the night because there was only one word to describe how you felt: heavenly.

#afirsttimeforeverythingcollab #shy pens it out #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x y/n #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurou smut #kuroo smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu oneshot #college au #tw alcohol #tw alcohol consumption #tw hickeys #tw fellatio #kuroo tetsurou x reader #let shy bite your lower lip #shy's a slave for kuroo tetsurou

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spooduce-spook · 2 years

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late night low quality doodles i did on a discord call.

#tw swearing #tw alcohol consumption #hollow knight fanart #little ghost #hk ghost #lurien the watcher #pale king #hk fanart #Hollow knight

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tiramegtoons · 2 years

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Italy.. notorious for making the best pizza. Not kidding.

Oh, and wine of course.

#I don’t drink though #AHIT reference #the snatcher #the snatcher ahit #trip to italy #off panel insert #*WHEEZE*#speaking of tendencies of swallowing things whole…#tw alcohol consumption

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ttuesday · 2 years

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Sober Assistance

Summary: After getting drunk at some dive bar, you call one of the few people you trust to come and get you... yes, that’s Eddie

Word Count: 2.5k

Additional Info: Reader uses she/her pronouns, tw alcohol consumption, reader is very drunk but don’t worry Eddie is there to take care of them lol

Just when you think no one will answer the phone, you hear some rummaging on the other end and a man’s voice answers. “Hello?” he asks in a croaky tone, making you wonder if you’ve woken him.

“Hey Mr Munson, is Eddie there?” You keep your voice polite, being acutely aware of pronouncing each syllable. After a brief silence of confusion, the man says your name, asking if it’s you. “Yes, yeah it’s me,” you confirm “sorry to uh, to call so late but is Eddie there?”.

Eddie creases his brow, baffled that you don’t realise you’re speaking to him now. “It’s me, this is Eddie…” he points to himself as if you can see him through the phone.

Thinking for a moment, Eddie quickly puts two and two together. “Christ, are you drunk?!” he exclaims, the very thought of you being drunk bringing an amused grin to his face.

“Yes! How did you know?” you laugh loudly, finding it equally amusing that Eddie can easily tell you’re not sober.

“I can practically smell the booze down the phone,” he mutters, fondly rolling his eyes. As cute as Eddie thinks you drunk calling him is, he can’t help but feel a small ball of worry in his gut. “Whereabouts are you? What phone are you calling from?” he casually interrogates you.

“I’m using the bar’s phone, duh,” you reply, putting your hand up by your other ear to block out the noisy chattering's of other patrons.

“The bar phone?” he repeats “what bar?”. Pressing the receiver against his ear, Eddie balances the phone between his face and shoulder, freeing his hands so he can hastily put on his shoes to come and get you.

From this short interaction, he can tell you’re wasted and in dire need of some sober assistance.

“Oooo it’s the bar that's across the street from that really nice restaurant but it’s closed so I can’t even get something to eat” you complain, dramatically sighing.

“Where?” He asks again, his brain scrambling to envision where this bar is.

“I already told you,” you whine, swaying slightly before perking up again “Actually you’d love it here, they don’t even check if you have ID, they just let you order whateveryouwant”. Eddie didn’t fully understand that last part, your words mushing together but thankfully, he knows exactly where you are.

It’s some dive bar by the outskirts of town, possibly the only place in Hawkins that doesn't check for ID and will basically let all ages come in for a beer or two. Eddie used to visit occasionally before he got his fake ID but it was always a dreary place that’s only appeal was its relaxed response to age restrictions.

“I’m on my way,” Eddie declares, leaving no room for debate “so stay there, don’t cause trouble, don’t talk to anybody and don’t hitch a ride from any creeps”. After his quick lecture, Eddie hangs up, not wanting to waste any time.

Eddie didn’t think he’d be so worked up over you drunk calling him but the thoughts of you being in some dive bar late at night and completely hammered doesn’t sit right with him.

“Jesus,” you mumble, though you can tell he’s already hung up. Hanging up on your end of the phone, you stumble back to the bar and order another drink.

***

By the time Eddie arrives, you’ve already made your way outside the bar. The loud nightlife inside hurt your head and so you thought the cool night air would help.

Your face lights up when the familiar truck pulls in off the road. “Hey, Eddie!” You beam, almost tripping over yourself as you wander over to the vehicle. Stretching over to open the passenger side door, Eddie simply says “Get in”.

During his ride here, Eddie could feel his stomach twist anxiously. Worry blinded his thoughts as he sped along the empty roads to get here. Seeing you now, he’s glad he came as fast as he could.

Although Eddie has never confronted his feelings for you directly, his unrelenting need to protect you becomes more apparent to him with each passing minute.

“It’s so good to see you” you clumsily clamber inside the truck and throw your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug. Wrapped in your embrace, Eddie feels his worries ease at the fact that you’re safe now.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks. “Oh you know, just living life each tequila shot at a time” you flash him a quick smile as you buckle your seatbelt.

Being honest, Eddie didn’t realise you were this drunk from your phone call. Sure, you sounded pretty drunk on the phone but he didn’t expect you to be nearly blackout drunk. Turning back on to the road, Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, grateful you had the sense to call him.

You take no notice of the truck beginning to move, in a world of your own as your head sways rhythmically against the headrest.

Eddie waits a few moments before speaking but eventually he asks “So are you going to tell me why you were alone in a goddamn dive bar?”.

He can’t believe this is happening. Here he is, Eddie Munson himself, king of mischief and mayhem acting as if he’s your parent about to lecture you on the risks of drinking.

“Wellllll,” you drawl, trying to remember how to form a sentence “oh yeah, ok so you know Stacey from my history class, right? Her boyfriend broke up with her right before their one year anniversary so she was completely hysterical but then her other friend Valerie was like ‘let’s go drinking wooo I know a kinda cool but also kinda dodgy place that doesn’t check for ID’ and I just tagged along I guess”. You shrug, bored of your retelling of how you got there.

“And where are they? Did they just leave you there?” even in your drunken state, you can hear the sharp rise of annoyance in Eddie’s voice. You know it’s not directed at you but instead at the very thought of the others leaving you at the bar.

A smile tugs at your lips as you think about how cute Eddie is when he gets protective of you, the small scowl on his face making him look more adorable than usual.

You take a deep breath before speaking again “Well actually Stacey really couldn’t catch a break today because after our fourth or maybe it was our fifth shot, she started feeling really sick so we called a taxi but there wasn’t enough room so I told them to just go on ahead and I’d get another ride”.

“Do your parents think you're staying over with Stacey or whoever tonight?” Eddie glances at you every few seconds, trying to keep his eyes on the road while also making sure you’re doing ok.

“Oh don’t worry about that, I already got it all sorted” you try to wink at Eddie but you forget how to and instead just blink at him.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he tilts his head, unsure why you weirdly blinked at him like that but deciding it’s best to just ignore it.

“I told them I was staying with Robin tonight, you know Robin from band? But I can’t actually stay with her because if her mom catches me sneaking in then she’ll kill the two of us but if you have a couch I could crash on, I’d very much appreciate it” you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

Eddie assumed you’d need a place to crash so this isn’t anything he wasn’t expecting. He actually prefers to have you crashing with him, that way he can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t get into any trouble.

“Unfortunately I don’t know Robin from band but she’ll cover for you if anyone asks?” Eddie replies, doubting your parents would approve of the idea of you staying with him for the night.

“Pfffttt, of course she will, she’s cool like that,” you wave your hand dismissively “I called her at the bar too but she can’t drive yet so she couldn’t come get me”.

Eddie gasps dramatically. Out of everything you’ve rambled about tonight, this is the most shocking.

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow as you look over at him, taken aback by his reaction. It’s surprisingly difficult to notice when Eddie’s teasing you when you’re drunk.

“You didn’t call me first?” his mouth curves into a shocked yet playful smile “damn, I was your second choice?”. As the truck pulls into the trailer park, you laugh out of relief, finally recognising his jokey tone.

“I wasn’t sure if you were busy,” you giggle, trying to explain “I didn’t want to disturb your band practice or Hellfire club shenanigans”.

Bringing the car to a stop, Eddie nods his head. “Ah yes,” his tone becomes more sarcastic “because the Hellfire Club always meets up at one in the morning”. Taking the key out of the ignition, he shifts to face you.

Maybe it’s the dim light from his trailer or the relaxed smile on his face but you can’t deny how good he looks. You’ve always known Eddie was good looking but the flutter in your chest reminds you just how much you like him.

Feeling your cheeks go red, you look away and laugh to yourself. It’s hard to tell if you’re laughing because of the alcohol or if it’s because of how suddenly aware you’ve become of Eddie’s attractiveness.

“You ready to go inside?” he asks softly, his eyebrow pulling together suspiciously as you continue to giggle.

You nod quickly, clearing your throat as you respond “Yeah, sure”.

Surprisingly you manage to get out of the truck and into the trailer without falling. You walk as if someone’s spun you around fifty times, making Eddie’s heart lurch every time you stagger. But he stays on high alert, ready to catch you if you trip.

With his hand on your shoulder, Eddie guides you inside the trailer and towards his room. Thankfully, his uncle is working late tonight so Eddie doesn’t need to give him the rundown on everything that’s happened and can focus solely on you.

You let Eddie’s hand guide you, walking aimlessly through the trailer. You didn’t realise how heavy your head feels until now, the alcohol weighing you down and making everything seem hazy.

“Heyyyy” you wave at his guitar as you stagger into his bedroom. Eddie rolls his eyes, shuffling into the room behind you. “Can I play it?” You question, wandering closer to the instrument. You stretch out your arm, close to grabbing it but Eddie swiftly moves to take your hand in his.

“Let’s do that tomorrow,” he diverts your attention back to the bed “right now I think you should focus on sleeping”. Hell would have to freeze over before Eddie lets you anywhere near his guitar but he knows better than to say that to you now.

At the sight of his messy but cozy bed, you flop down without thinking. “I promise I’ll take the couch,” you groan, closing your eyes and fully appreciating the comfort of the bed “just gimme a few seconds”.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Eddie shrugs “Don’t worry, you stay here and I’ll take the couch”. You look way too comfortable to move and after the night you’ve had, Eddie thinks you deserve the bed.

If you told him before you called that today would end with you in his bed, he would never believe it… and he would’ve assumed it would be under different circumstances. Yet here you are, your expression peaceful as you nuzzle into his pillow. “It smells like you” you mumble.

Eddie doesn’t take any notice of your drunk mumblings, knowing you’re probably just thinking out loud and not paying attention to whatever you say. “Time to sleep” he says, bringing the blanket up over your body.

Just as Eddie goes to stand, you speak again, making him go still.

“You’re not my second choice”.

“What?” You’ve blurted out a lot of incoherent thoughts tonight yet this one catches him off guard the most.

“In the car, you said you were my second choice because I didn’t call you first,” you explain “but you’re not. You’ve never been my second choice”.

Eddie creases his brow, unsure what you mean. Did you try to ring him first? Didn’t he hear the phone and then after calling Robin, you tried again? “I don’t understand” he shakes his head.

Getting that fluttering in your chest again, you ask him “Can I show you?”.

“Show me? I guess so, yeah” intrigue gets the better of him. Eddie has no idea how you could show him but he plays along anyways.

Without thinking, you sit up in the bed and in the process, you press your lips to his. You hum into the kiss, satisfied that you’ve finally made a move.

It’s more sloppy than you thought your first kiss with Eddie would be but in the moment, it feels perfect.

While you close your eyes, melting into the kiss, Eddie keeps his eyes open, completely stunned by your actions. Pulling away, you can’t help but smile widely. Eddie doesn’t know what just happened.

He’s in shock, his mind trying to process the kiss as it replays in his head. Eddie stays still as you lay back down on the bed, his blanket pulled up high around you.

Standing abruptly, Eddie says lowly “Uh, ok, yeah… night? If you need anything I’m just uh… on the couch”. It feels as though he’s forgotten how to speak, fumbling over his words.

“Thanks Eddie,” you say with a yawn, drifting off to sleep “thanks for everything”. It doesn’t take long for you to fall into a deep sleep, stretched out in Eddie’s bed as you hug his pillow.

Making sure to stay quiet, Eddie leaves the room and makes his way to the couch. He can’t believe it. You kissed him. You actually kissed him.

Eddie plonks down on the couch, his mouth still open agape. Maybe it was just a drunken gesture, something with no meaning behind it but Eddie can’t help but feel as though there’s more to the kiss.

It was brief and yet the kiss has been the most impactful few seconds Eddie’s experienced in a long time.

Laying down on the couch, Eddie runs his tongue along his lips, tasting remnants of your lip-gloss. Dragging his hand over his face, Eddie shuts his eyes and tries to get some sleep.

He doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring or if you’ll even remember any of this by morning but there’s one thing Eddie is sure of. No matter how much he’s tried to deny it in the past, now Eddie knows for sure that he has feelings for you.

#tw alcohol #tw alcohol consumption #stranger things #eddie munson #st 4 #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader

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rinhaler · 6 months

Note

I will kiss you and hold you and pet you and call you a good girl if you write a toji os abt him having a one nightstand with someone and when he’s undressing them he unzips their dress WITH HIS TEETHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA……….. anyways!!! :3

am i a good girl now :(((

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, soft dom!toji (maybe), alcohol consumption, squirting, fingering, face-sitting, vaginal sex, tit sucking, praise, slight degradation, reader passes out for a sec.

words: 2.4k

“Can I buy you a drink?” a handsome stranger asks you as you sit by your lonesome at the bar. You came here with your friend, who has since disappeared since locating her ex-boyfriend. And you suspect he won’t be an ex for much longer. The attention makes you giddy. His scar pulling as he smirks at you, a grin that grows wider when you nod. He pulls out his card and waits to flag down a bar tender. “I’m Toji, by the way.”

You introduce yourself and you curse yourself for how pathetic you must seem. It’s embarrassing, really, feeling so accomplished that a man deemed you worthy enough to talk to and buy a drink for. He’s like a model, possessing a wide build and tall figure. He could have any woman here if he wanted, you’re sure. And despite your inner monologue telling you to act coy, you’re sure you’re a bashful fool.

He orders you the same blue lagoon cocktail you’ve already had three of, and himself a lemonade.

“You don’t drink?” you ask him.

“Nah, it doesn’t really affect me.”

You shrug, slurping the ice cold cocktail through a metal straw you brought from home. He smirks at that, noting that you’re the type to prepare this much for what he’s sure is meant to be a casual night out. And he asks you questions about yourself that you’re so willing to answer. You ask him questions about himself that he answers too, though the responses are surface level and simple. The mystery only adds to his allure.

He's funny, effortlessly. Everything he says seems to make you giggle. You’re a cliché, too, twirling your hair as you hang on his every word. It’s a mix or attraction and intoxication. Is he really so interesting and funny or are you just wet and transfixed by his looks?

Your laughter dies out when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s your friend, coming to say goodbye. She points at her ex and tells you she’s leaving with him.

So much for girl code.

Though she does offer you to hop in the taxi with them so you can go home. But you don’t want to leave Toji. You want to keep making a lovesick fool of yourself for him and maybe see where the night takes you. So she waves and you focus on the older looking man beside you. He licks his lips, his scar glistening under the everchanging technicolour lights flooding the club.

“Wanna get going, gorgeous?” he asks, leaning over to speak into your ear. The rough gravel to his voice rushing straight to your pulsing cunt. You shouldn’t, really, should you? It’s not smart to go home with guys you’ve never met. You don’t know him or his intentions, he could be plying you with alcohol to get you stupid enough to kill you.

“Mhmm.” you nod, dumbly, consequences be damned. If you die, you’ll die by the hand of a man so beautiful you’d think an angel would cry at his presence. He takes your hand, leading you outside and hailing a cab. You at least have the sense to go to your place, knowing your cousin lives a few doors down and will surely here if things go wrong.

He kisses you deeply in the back of the cab, fingers digging into your skin as he squeezes your plush thigh. You moan, lewdly, when he tells you to stick out your tongue and he sucks it before licking it with his own. Tongues tangling as he continues to squeeze and knead your malleable flesh.

“Head on up, I’ll follow you.” he tells you as he pulls out his wallet. You nod, agreeing, whispering your apartment number before clambering out of the car. The chill of the 2am air bites at your skin, and you hurry to the security door. You pull the key from your purse and rush inside.

Toji takes his time paying the driver, grunting as he puts his wallet away and slides out of his side of the car. He slowly skulks to the entrance, smiling when he realises you remembered to leave the latch for him to get inside. He sees a crowd gathered by the elevator and opts to take the stairs instead.

He smirks, gleefully, when he sees you waiting by the front door.

“Watcha doin’, gorgeous?” he wonders.

“Waiting for you.” you confess, looking down at your feet awkwardly as shame surges through your body.

He approaches, slowly. But before you know it you’re looking up at him and caged between his body and your front door. His hands rest against the frame as he studies your blown eyes and nervous face.

“Somethin’ tells me you’ve never had a one night stand before,” he smiles, scar pulling deliciously once again. You can barely form a thought unable to break yourself from the hypnotising mark on his lip. “Unlock the door.”

“I already did…” you gulp, nervously, still unable to tear your eyes away from his.

He likes your answer, picking you up so that your legs wrap around his waist and he lets himself into your home. Your lips lock and tongues clash as he controls the kiss, but your eagerness gets the better of you. Your hips rutting and soft moans pour from you as you portray yourself as a desperate slut for his benefit.

You pout, a little defeated, as he sets you back down. Though the disappoint dies an instantaneous death as he spins you around so your back is to him, pushing you into the wall by your entryway.

“Have you fucked a stranger before, princess?” he asks, brushing your hair from your shoulder and whispering devilishly into your ear. You shake your head, pathetic strings of ‘no!’ spilling from your lips as his fingers explore under your dress and pinch your ass. You bite your lip as you feel his heavy fingers prod at your drippy panties. He huffs out a laugh when he realises how wet you are. “Allllll of this jus’ for me? You shouldn’t have, darlin’.”

“B-Been wet… since you asked if I wanted a drink…” you tell him, giggling a little and hiding your face against the wall.

“No no no…” he objects, tugging your hair softly to draw you out. “Wanna see you, wanna see how you look when I ruin you.” you feel your body flush with heat at his words, turning your head to the side so he can see you again. You place your palms against the wall to brace yourself, not expecting him to pull your panties down your legs from under your dress.

He relishes in how you can barely keep your eyes open as he sinks two fingers into your sopping cunt and your panties drop to the ground. You bite your inner cheek, though it does little to keep you quiet as he curls his fingers against your spongy insides.

“Oh fuck.” you gasp, ashamed that you might cum after a few pathetic pumps of his fingers. Though it doesn’t feel right. You don’t want it to stop, but you don’t feel like you usually do when you’re close to cumming. “W-Wait.” you move your head and try to close your legs.

“Sh.” he stops you, kicking your ankles to keep your legs open. He holds your head against the wall with his forearm, his breathing heavy in your ear. You shudder when he kisses against it, chuckling quietly when he feels your pussy begin to clench. “Stop clenching, push. It’ll feel good, promise… push against me.” he commands.

You don’t know what’s he’s talking about. Push your body? No, he said stop clenching. You’re trying to keep him inside, keep the feeling inside. But he repeats it. Push. And like he’s the master of your cunt, it listens.

“Good girl, baby…” he praises you as he notes the pressure switch from your tender hole. You moan, and he coos. Faux sympathy as he fucks you dumb on his thick digits.

“Toji! Ngh—!” you moan. Clear liquid jets from your pussy, dripping down your thighs and soaking your panties and the floor beneath. He doesn’t let up, either, still battering his fingers against your g-spot.

“There you go, princess. Good fuckin’ girl… so good for me darlin’.” he moans, too, getting off on your pleasure and the striking realisation that you’ve never squirted before. He’s proud of himself, and he’s proud of you. “Fuckin’ soaked your pretty panties, sweetheart. Dirty little girl…” he teases.

You don’t have the energy to respond, already spent from cumming in such an alien way. He kisses your shoulder as your legs continue to shake. Any logic from the thought of telling him to stop fingering you dissipates when you think that he can you make you cum like that again.

He feels his hardened cock over his jeans as he looks down at the puddle beneath you. Still pumping his fingers against your sweet spot until your eyes roll over white. He can’t take it anymore. The unrelenting inner voice telling him to touch himself. He thinks he might die if he doesn’t stroke his length, even for a minute.

“Don’t move.” he orders.

You stay still, unsure of what he’s doing. Though you whimper as you feel his body press against yours. His head sinks to the top of your dress, and you just about cum again when you realise he’s biting down on the metal zipper, pulling it down with his teeth as exposing your bare back.

The black mini dress falls to the ground into the puddle of your lewdness and your drenched underwear.

“Good girl, stay there.”

He pulls off his t-shirt and tosses it aside down the hallway, only to be seen by the end of this dalliance. You hear him kick off his shoes and quickly throws away his socks. Eagerly, his pants follow, as do his underwear. He’s just as naked as you, now. And you choke out a breath as you hear him drop to his knees, licking up the mess on your thighs and pussy. But he turns around, sitting on his ass with his back against the wall, without a care for the wetness beneath. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling your cunt towards his face.

“Sit.” he instructs.

You do, without pause, moaning boisterously as he sucks at your clit and covers his face in your sweetness. One arm remains hooked around thigh while the other releases, hand in search of his aching length. He plays with himself, alternating between lazy strokes and passionate ones. The taste of your cunt makes him dizzy, unable to believe how much slick you’re producing as he relentlessly feasts on your flesh.

“F-fuck, Toji… finger me, please.” you beg. He’s leaking like crazy, and thinks your request might have come at the perfect time. He lets himself go in favour of pleasuring you, the sound of your sticky cunt squelching with each press throughout your eerie apartment. Neither of you had even found time to turn on a light, the only thing illuminating the room is the filtering light sneaking in through the cracks of your front door. “G’na cum, a-again… holy— s-shit.” you moan.

It spurs him on, maintaining all of his ministrations as he tries to coax your second orgasm out of you. He grunts, loudly, against your sodden folds as you squirt again. His face and hair doused with your release as he doesn’t dare pull away. The sadistic desire to prolong your ecstasy is fuelling him to keep going. He feels like he might cum untouched as he feels your cum cover him.

Your legs give, his burly arms hook around your thighs again in a bid to keep you stable. But his hands wander, impatiently. Fingers grip into your waist as he pulls you away from the wall.

He helps you down, hovering you above his longing cock as he guides it to your spent hole.

“I don’t have any condoms.” he tells you.

“Don’t care—” you assure him, wriggling your hips eagerly. “’m on the pill.”

“Greedy girl,” he smirks, pushing you down onto his cock. You want to scream from the stretch but you manage to refrain. He sets a ruthless pace, forcing you to accommodate to it quickly. “Been so sweet for me, darlin’. Gonna be nice ‘n do all the work for ya, okay? Say thank you.”

“T-Thank you! Thank you.” you babble nonsensically.

His knees are bent as he fucks up into your abused hole, the velocity propelling you forward. Your fingers clutch onto his shoulders for dear life as he takes advantage of your body being in such close proximity to his mouth. He sucks your tits, eliciting a dreamy moan from you. The gorgeous sounds you make for him have his cock drooling inside of your unprotected walls.

It's so sorrowful, really, thinking about how pathetic you both are. He seemed so calm and collected and yet neither of you could even make it through the hallway of your apartment before you were both stripped bare. You thought you’d be fucking comfortably on your bed. But here you are, being fucking destroyed by his monstrously large cock on the wooden, soaking, hallway floor.

“Gonna cum, baby.” he breathes against your spit soaked tits. The admission makes you cream, clenching around his thick, veiny cock as you brace yourself. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re gonna cum again. Can feel it, little cock slut. No one’ll fuck you like this again, y’know.”

“Ah- aaaah—!” is all you can say as a lesser stream of liquid shoots from you once more. The internal bliss you feel makes you pass out momentarily. But you come around quick enough to feel your untainted insides become stained with his white, creamy warmth.

He groans, deeply, bouncing you up and down his length. He wishes there was a light on to see the creamy ring and the messy puddle you’ve created together.

“You’re fuckin’ amazing, baby.” he tells you, grasping the crown of your head with his palm to guide you into a sloppy kiss. He manages to stand up whilst keeping himself slotted comfortably inside of you. You giggle as you guide him to the nearest light switch, and both of you look down at the mess you’ve made. Shame builds once again and you hide your face in the crook of his neck. “Awe, pretty girl made a dirty little mess f’me.” he teases you.

“Stop! ‘m so embarrassed!” you tell him, the sentence muffled as you talk into his skin.

“S’okay, rest up.” he tells you, stroking your back soothingly. “Give me a tour, wanna see the next place we can make a mess of.”

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bitchkay · 1 year

Text

Dance all night♡

~Zev Avari

CW: Modern AU, suggestive, club setting–I've never actually been to a club, alcohol consumption, sexual themes, non explicit smut language, self indulgent asf, written with myself in mind but no gender specific pronouns used or explicit descriptors, implied fem alignment but.. only cus of a more fem presentation but otherwise fuck it here *slap* sexy dress

Word count: 1706

Rating: Mature

Note: there are multiple YouTube links throughout for the songs playing in the background or when music is mentioned yk to set the vibe, anyway I'm gonna make a Zev playlist eventually

Was it a good idea to sneak off without permission? Maybe not but you needed a break. Surely everyone would understand, right?

Making it past security you're met with the scene you haven't been in quite a while. It wasn't incredibly crowded, which you were grateful for, but the amount of people sent a rush through your body. You were ready to have some fun tonight.

Partying alone, again probably wasn't a good idea, nor was drinking alone, it was probably depressing from the outside looking in and dangerous considering your alone, but this wasn't the first stupid idea you've ever had.

As you made your way to the bar another figure entered the club. Blond hair swept across his forehead, his ends tipped with red, the man walked with confidence weaving through the crowd.

You ordered a drink letting the tension in your shoulders fall. Loosening up you allowed yourself to relax, forgetting about everyone that's stressed you out up until this point.

He saw you from across the room, intrigued by you. That dress did you well he'll admit, but he couldn't help but think how it would- no, stop, he doesn't know you, let him say hello first before he thinks of undressing you.

You finished your drink feeling the alcohol loosen you up in time with the start of the next song, making your way to the floor. A pair of bright red eyes followed you into the crowd, dancing by yourself. It seems like you like this song. You swayed and moved your hips to the music having a grand ole time. Your pretty little ass moved like water.

Letting loose you felt the music in your bones, dancing to your heart's content. You danced like nobody's watching, not a thing could bring you down from this high.

Your secret admirer began his approach with little thought. Without thinking he made his way to you, weaving his way through the crowd until you're right before him.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing all by themself?"

"Oh god-! You know you shouldn't sneak up on people," you said startled, holding your hand to your chest.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners, Zev," he said, holding out a practiced hand for you.

You hesitated before giving your name, putting your hand in his, immediately thrown in a loop as he twirled you around pulling you to his chest.

"That's a pretty name, looking for a dance partner perhaps?" Zev said with a firm grip on your waist.

"Bold approach I see? … well maybe for a little bit."

"That's all I need."

A dance turned into two, then into a few more drinks, and now the two of you well into the night were seen in the middle of the floor bumping and grinding as you passed flirtatious remarks back and forth.

"I like the way you move~" Zev spoke close to your ear as you leaned your back against his chest.

"You're not so bad a dancer yourself," you said, reaching your hand back around his neck.

"That's not what I'm talking about."

Zev wrapped his arms around you pulling your ass against his front. He ducked his head to the side of your face til his lips brushed the lobe of your ear.

"You been shaking your ass on me all night… making it hard to remain a gentleman ya know." Spinning you around he snaked his arms around your waist, his hands moving down grabbing fistfuls of your ass.

His breath next to your ear sent shivers up your spine despite your lightly sweat coated skin.

“Nobodys asking you to be a gentleman.. Zev,” you purred his name. “Plus I'm not sure your behavior thus far would be considered gentlemanly.” a new song filled the air as you gently moved his hands up from your butt to your waist.

“You haven't rejected me yet. How’s a man supposed to hold back anyway~?” he cooed.

Onlookers would think you're dating by the way you've been attached at the hip relentlessly flirting the whole night. Dancing on each other like your trying to fuck through your clothes you really did look like a pair of lovers.

It was frustratingly hot in here, stuck like a bead of sweat, Zev held you close, it was an intimate hold like one might hold a partner. Your breaths smelled of liquor –shots you took together– Zev looked at you intently with a certain glint in his eyes and he eyed you under dim lighting, strobe lights luminating parts of your face allowing him a little bit of a better look.

“You're so sexy you know that?”

“So I've been told.”

“Mmh~ fuck.”

The thump of your back hitting the door echoed through the surprisingly scarce bathroom.

One strap of your dress hung off your shoulder, the first few buttons of Zevs shirt undone. You made out sloppily, disheveled as the faint sounds of music from the club bounced off the walls. Your fingers tangled in the blond strands of hair as one leg wrapped around his waist; the kiss hot and heavy as a dribble of drool rolled down your chin.

*click*

The sound of the door locking rang through your ears.

“Zev?”

“I wanna fuck you.”

Simple and straightforward sure did the trick.

Did either of you expect the night to go this way? No but who's complaining?

With one hand up the bottom of your dress, Zev trailed your neck with his lips mumbling praises as his hand creeped up your thigh.

“You were teasing me weren't you? You wanted me to approach you, hm?” he said, nibbling on your ear.

You let out a breathy sigh as you arch into him, the hand on your thigh creeping upward still. Zevs nics and kisses moved down toward your exposed collar bone kissing your soft skin holding your body against him.

"God…" you breathed, reaching to undo the rest of his buttons.

"I think you were trying to seduce me, with your pretty face and sexy dance~" Zev closed in on your face, the grip on your thigh tightening.

"And what would you do if I was~?" You went for his belt buckle as Zev went to hike up your dress leaning into your lips.

"Well that just makes things better.." Zev kissed you as his fingers traced the hem of your underwear tickling the seams.

You had his pants unbuckled just as Zev reached for your other leg lifting you in his arms, back pressed against the door, legs around his waist.

"Tell me.. do you want me to fuck right against this door?"

Just as Zevs nimble fingers inched under the fabric of your underwear an obnoxious ringing noise sounded through the bathroom.

You both froze feeling almost as if you've been caught.

"Is that.. your phone?" You asked.

Zev ducking his head into your neck responded, "Ignore it."

"What if it's important?" you said though you were also tempted to ignore it in favor of whatever you're about to get yourself up to in this bathroom.

"It's not."

"And how do you know?"

"What can be more important than this?"

You stared at him blankly and after a beat he set you on your feet reaching into his pants, answering the phone without looking at the caller id.

"Yes?... oh it's you I- …yes,, that's exactly where I am but-... no- Guy!... I'm kinda busy right now… Guyy… this is embarrassing… alright… ok later"

You off to the side fixing your makeup in the mirror noticed Zev approach you from behind.

".. did you just say Guy a moment ago?"

It can't be the root of your stresses can it?

"Yea why?" He said, slithering his hands around your waist from behind.

"Nothing… What's your last name?" You turned around to face him leaning on the counter.

Zev blinked before answering, making a connection in his head.

"Avari."

You studied his face, noting the sharpness of his eyes. It was much easier to see in this lightning, and what a handsome man Zev was. You disregarded the similarities you found in your head in turn for admiring his features; you never really got to do that on the dancefloor, nor in your heated passion against the door. He really was beautiful. You pecked his lips without thinking, also noting their softness.

Zev watched you curiously, you started studying his face before your expressions softened and and your hands went up to his shoulders, pressing your thumb to the base of neck and following leading lines down his still open shirt. You didn't even try to hide that you were ogling him.

He stepped closer to you, crowding you against the counter before leaning towards your face.

"You wouldn't mind if I took you home with me would you? Treat you to better than a dirty bathroom, in a nice big soft bed?" Zev wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

"You make a very tempting offer. What is it? Your big brother's waiting for you at home?" you teased wrapping your arms around his neck.

Zev averted his eyes embarrassed to have to admit this. "Listen… I very much want to finish what we started. There's no way I'm leaving you here for some random ass incel to pick you up. Even if I never see you again, I want to feel your skin for as long as you'll allow it."

His hands caressed your sides, straightening out your dress. You look up at him through the mirror, a small smile on your lips.

"That sounded pretty romantic, Zev. What would you do if I said no? Not that that's something I'm going to say any way," you said leaning back on his chest.

"The devilish seductress to have caught my eye this night denying me of my pleasures, well that would be embarrassing. So if it's okay with you, I'm either taking care of you in the back of an uber or I'm fucking you in my bed. Just know either option gets me your number."

"Oh you're getting more than just my number, pretty boy."

Maybe it was a good idea to sneak off without permission after all… at least for now at least.

Me: the end corny as fuck *rewrites*

#zev avari #court of darkness #fanfiction #otome fanfic #tw alcohol consumption #self insert #tw smut language

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theoreticslut · 2 years

Note

Holly? 🥺

If you’re not well, please get some rest. I'm worried about you ❤️

I will jacky 💗

I slept a decent amount last night after I got home but I’ll probably end up taking a nap at some point today.

I don’t like that I’m worrying you though 🥺 I really am okay, I promise - I’m having fun & I’m being safe. I’ve got good friends that watch after me too.

#holly’s replies #jacky #holly’s friends #tw alcohol consumption

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fuwushiguro · 2 years

Text

Come To Me, Eternally

chapter three | masterlist

Shuuji Hanma x f!reader

Genre: Smut & Angst Notes: And so it ends Warnings: 18+, dubcon, alcohol consumption, smoking, gun stand off, major character death, mentioned violence against the reader, domestic abuse, graphic description of murder, vaginal sex, creampie, collaring. Words: 3.2k

networks: @planetonet @tometpd

Shuuji Hanma has never been a man to feel fear in his life. When others find themselves feeling alert and on edge, Hanma can do nought but laugh. But since leaving your place… The home that you share with your fiancé, his boss, he believes this may be the closest to panic he’s ever felt. In fact, he’d go as far as to admit he’s a little scared. Kisaki is a crazy fuck, like him. And also not to dissimilarly to Hanma, he’s calculated. He imagines that Kisaki has already gone out of his way to contact his subordinates and alert them of Hanma’s treachery. Hanma is brave, in the sense that he can stay in his penthouse like he didn’t reveal he’d been fucking his precious fiancé behind his back. He supposes you were right about one thing.

Shuuji Hanma is a dead man walking.

He’s been sipping his favourite whiskey since the minute he got home. But he isn’t stupid, he needs his wits about him, after all. He’s been nursing the same drink for a long while. He needs to consider himself. His next course of action. What has happened. What will happen. You entering his life after so long was an unexpected cog in his well oiled machine of existence. It had been so long since he’d thought about his favourite slut. His toy. He still can’t believe that he managed to forget you at all.

How could he forget someone he spent so long going out of his way to torment? Someone he forced to give her virginity to him. He was clumsy then, he’s sure you’ll agree. He had a little experience, more than most, so he knew what he was doing with you. But now, he is matured, he is a man. Despite the fact he sees women as devices to give him pleasure, he knows exactly how to please. And although it’s been so long since he played with your body, it is simply unforgettable. It is his. He’ll touch you just right and make you come undone with so little effort you’ll have barely taken a breath.

Is that why you run to him?

Is that why you’re back in his life?

Because you’re his, aren’t you? You won’t forget something so important like that. You’re always going to be his girl. Hanma’s Toy. It’s engraved in your flesh for that exact reason. But even without that permanent, black, ink. How could you forget someone you gave your virginity too? How could you forget all of the things he did and made you do? You couldn’t. You can’t. Even at such a young age, you wonder if he knew what he was doing. If he wanted to scar you so vehemently that you’d never be able to erase him from the recesses of your mind.

You’re his.

No one else’s.

His.

“Open the door, Hanma.”

It’s familiar. Why wouldn’t he recognise the voice of a man he’s been thick as thieves with for over a decade? With a cigar latched between his lips and his gun in his hands, he stands perfectly adjacent to the front door of his penthouse and points the weapon at the entrance. He has no doubt in his mind that Kisaki has brought an army with him to snuff him out and put an end to the memorable and insufferable Shuuji Hanma.

“It’s open, Tetta.” he responds. The use of his forename enrages Kisaki, a clear snub of his superiority and a lack of respect from Hanma.

He opens the door slowly… slowly… slowly… until they’re face to face with each other. And it’s unbelievable, but somehow, they manage to laugh. Kisaki is pointing his gun at Hanma, and Hanma’s is pointing right back. And for some reason, it’s so fucking amusing. How did things get like this? At one point or another, Kisaki would have trusted Hanma more than anyone else in the world. Even you. Fuck. You.

“Don’t tell me you came alone.” Hanma queries, refusing to let his guard down but still managing to take a tactical puff of his cigar.

“I did, believe it or not. I’m a reasonable man. Some might say, smart,”

“First I’m hearing about that.” Hanma jokes, earning a snicker from his former friend.

“I figure there’s history. And a simple explanation might just clear this all up. So, I haven’t told a damn soul about this. Pour me a drink.” Kisaki speaks and demands as he tilts his head and his gun in the direction of the tumbler of whiskey standing alone at Hanma’s lonely dining table.

“For real?”

“We’ll drink, and I’ll listen to what you have to say. And then I’ll blow your fucking head off for touching my little wifey.” he talks, calmly. The final sentence sounds like a joke, but his eyes are telling another story. He’s serious, deadly so.

Hanma clears his throat, refusing to lower his gun as he walks closer to the bottle of whiskey. He grabs an extra tumbler, pouring the bronze liquid into the glass while keeping his eyes and gun focused on his boss. Kisaki enters the penthouse, using his foot to close the door behind him.

It’s almost comical, really, how neither of the men refuse to put away their weapons. Even while sitting so close to each other. Their legs spread, a show of dominance, like men do, as they sit and find the most comfortable positions in their seats. It’s almost like a silent contest to display who needs more leg room, which of them has the biggest cock and balls.

It's Hanma.

Their gun holding arms turn to jelly as they enjoy their drinks. Resting the cool metal killing devices on their legs as they casually sip and slurp as if they’re indulging in last orders at a bar with close friends. A memory they’ve shared more times than they can count. But this is nothing like that complacent, relaxing vibe. This is tense.

“She’s missing, now. Have you, uh, seen her?” Kisaki queries.

“No. Why would I have? Doesn’t she have friends?” Hanma responds, calmly. Kisaki studies his eyes. Enough years in this line of work, and you can spot a liar with genuine ease. So, he stares and stares.

“I know she’s here, Hanma.”

Hanma takes another swig of his drink, clearing off the last remaining drops before pouring another for himself. But he shakes his head, adamant he has no idea what he’s referring to.

“You wanted to talk about her, you said. So, what went down after I left?” Hanma asks, a question he’s been dying to know after he fled. He has never felt guilt before. He thinks he might be a sociopath, most days. Or else he wouldn’t have put you through everything he did in the past. And yet, for the first time maybe ever, he felt bad for leaving you with him tonight. He turned your world upside down and threw you to the wolves. It was too much like the old him. A him he isn’t ashamed of, but he likes to think he is at least a little better than. So, he had to ask. What happened?

“Well. I was mad, you get that, right? It’s understandable, I mean—”

“Did you damage my toy, Kisaki?”

“Not yours, mine. But, yeah, so fucking what? I beat her black and blue. What sane man wouldn’t?” Kisaki questions. Hanma slams his glass down on the table, earning an explosive laugh from his boss. “Come the fuck on. I loved her, y’know? Spent a fortune on her. Gave her everything. Only for her to cheat with… you. Thought she was my princess, my forever.”

“No one will love her like I can. I’ve loved her since the day I set eyes on her as a kid. So, I’ll tell you one more time. My toy. My princess. My forever. I’ll find her and fuck her into the shape of my cock because she is mine. And my name is on her forever, to prove it.” Hanma monologues, it’s relaxed and pointed. Kisaki retains each and every word. An indescribable rage sears through him and he realises he’ll never have what you have with Hanma. History. But that fucking mark. It can be removed. It can be changed. He’s signed his name into your skin tonight in the form of blooming blue and purple blooms. It’s just a shame they aren’t permanent.

“You have to die, that’s a given. Yeah?” Kisaki chuckles, and even Hanma smiles.

“If you think you can kill me. If you think I will let that happen. Sure.”

“It’s a matter of pride, man. I loved… love her. And she is mine, no matter what you say or think. But what she did, I’ll never forgive. I’ll spend the rest of my life making her pay for it.”

“You won’t see her again for the rest of your life, Tetta. Only one of us is getting out of this penthouse alive and I intend on making sure it’s me.”

“She humiliated me. With you. I’m all for happy endings but not at the cost of my own. I can’t lose her to you, man, I can’t.” he tells him, a tone of finality filling his words. Hanma shakes his head, again. In his eyes, he has no choice.

“Do you know I took her purity from her? Even if I die, she’ll never forget me for the simple fact I took her virginity. You don’t forget your first. And, you’ll never be able to love her like I can. Like I do. You’ll have to kill me to stop me from claiming my toy back, but like I said, I have no intention of letting that happen.”

You wonder if it’s the sociopath in him. He’s thankful that Kisaki was looking at his drink when Hanma’s eyes widened, ever so slightly. His heart rate quickened, the organ was pounding as he tried to keep a neutral, poker face. He managed to steady the tremoring of his fingers as he tried to pretend nothing was happening behind Tetta Kisaki. Crossing one leg over the other as he smiled and drank his whiskey in such a nonchalant manner. It roused Kisaki’s suspicion to see Hanma become his usual, cocky self.

Bang.

That cocky, trademark smirk wiped off of Hanma’s face in an instant. Instead, he donned an unimpressed, almost bored thin lipped expression as the blood of your ex-fiancé spattered across his face. He smacked his lips together, attempting to discover whether he could taste copper on his tongue as he paid no mind to your former partners body slump out of his chair and collide with the ground.

You were a coward for killing him like that. His back to you and no way to defend himself. You got him right in the back of his head, and you could only assume there was an exit wound somewhere close to between his eyes as it pissed blood and puddled around his body and seeped into his expensive Louis Vuitton suit.

“S-Shuuji…” you whimpered.

“Shush.” he demanded, getting up from his seat and tutting you into a stunned silence. You murdered someone. Fuck. You, a regular fucking person, killed Tetta Kisaki. Hanma grabbed your shoulders, firmly, kissing your forehead and forcing you to look him in the eye as he spoke to you. “You did the right thing, baby.” he assures you.

“I… killed someo- no. Killing is… it’s never the right thing!” you feel like you are screaming but in reality your voice has almost died in your throat as you try and articulate your conflicting feelings. He would have probably killed you first. You thought he was going to, tonight. Hanma did some terrible things to you but he never beat you. You’ve never felt so sore, so pained. And yet so lucky to be alive. And Hanma, fuck, you can’t believe this is really Hanma. His touches are so tender and delicate. So sweet. He knows you’re hurting. He could see it in the bruises when you first stumbled into his home, yes, but he could predominantly see it in your eyes.

“Bastard deserved it and then some for doing this to you.” he states, you try to shake your head but you can’t. He stills your skull with two large palms, once again forcing you to look into his drowsy, golden eyes. “I’m a real piece of shit, but even I wouldn’t lay a hand on a woman. How could he hurt someone as precious as you?”

“I’m a murderer, Shuuji I can’t, I—”

“He didn’t tell anyone he was coming here. No one will know about this internal struggle. You know what that means? I’ll be taking over Kisaki’s role in the company. You’re mine, again, and everything is gonna be fine.”

“I don’t know…” you sigh, obvious concern in your voice. But again, he tuts, a feeble attempt of dismissing the worry from your body.

“Come.” he demands. “Into the shower, wanna wash this prick off us before I make arrangements to move him.”

“S-Shuuji, please. Please be—”

“I know, baby, I know.”

It is the most glamorous shower you’ve ever seen and will ever hope to see. The shower head is attached to the ceiling and you both fit inside with plenty of space surrounding you still. There’s even a small bench, made out of the same marble material as the walls you are standing inside of. Of course the door is glass, fogged completely with steam from the boiling shower as well as your rising body heats.

He sits, peacefully, allowing you to stand alone under the shower as you cleanse your naked, shaken body. You can’t help but giggle when you see his cock standing to full attention as he ogles you lathering your body in shower gel and allowing the water to cascade down your body.

You’d never of expected him to sit so patiently like this while he has you as his. You are officially his property and he isn’t doing anything about it.

Or so you thought.

The nice guy act soon wore thin, and you found yourself shoved against the glass door. You struggled, slightly, your bruises aching the further he forced himself into you and against the glass.

“H-Hurts, Shuuji, it, ah—!”

“Can’t wait anymore.” he informs you as he guides his cock head to your sodden cunt. “Need to make you mine again.” he tells you.

And with that, you realise this isn’t going to be about you. He knows how to fuck you. How to make you cum. And yet, he won’t. His priority is himself. Filling you to the brim with his cum and marking your insides officially as his.

“Always had such a tight little pussy, haven’t you? All mine. All fucking mine.” he practically growls in your ear as he begins to slam up into you.

“P-Please, Hanma. Slower! Slow…” you beg, pathetically silent it’s almost drowned out by the pelting drops of water cascading against the ground. A simple ‘tsk’ leaves his lips as he kisses your cheek and reaches around to fondle your clit.

“Wish I could kill him twice for making you so sore.” he hums as he allows his fingers to dance lightly across your battered skin. But it doesn’t stop him from pummelling against your body, if anything, he’s fucking into your sweet spot harder. He’s moaning, grunting, gasping almost, as he approaches his doom. He’s quick. He could easily lie and say it’s for your benefit, which it is. But it’s for him. The sooner your insides are painted white, the better. “Oh – fuck – ‘m cummin’, Christ ‘m cummin’ baby.”

And you feel it, God you feel it because he shoots his load directly into your womb, you think. They’re silent thoughts, but he’s already thinking about you carrying his child. He always pictured three or four with you. Three boys that give the two of you hell and one girl he worships with everything he has. Not now, he hopes. With your mental state so fragile and everything so new.

His cum dribbles down your legs. But the minute you step under the shower, it’s being carried down the plughole by the current.

Definitely not now.

He abandons you, a towel wrapped around his waist as he heads towards his bedroom. You find a towel for your body as well as your hair, doing your best to chase after him without slipping and falling in the process. He’s rummaging around in his drawers desperately searching for something. He looks back at you, briefly, as you enter, and then back again with more focus as he takes in what he’s seeing.

“Towel off sweetheart. No hiding your body from me, wanna see every inch.” he instructs. You do as you’re told, unwrapping the white, fluffy towel from your body and exposing your skin to the freezing, air-conditioned room.

“What are you doing?” you wonder, sitting on the edge on his bed eagerly as you wait from him to come over to you.

Finally, he finds what it is he’s looking for. “Stand up.” he tells you, hiding whatever it is behind his back. Once again, you comply, watching him come closer to you and sit himself down. “Sit on me.” he demands. You straddle him. He kisses each and every inch of your body within his reach. He smooths his hand over the sickening blue blotches delivered to your skin by Tetta. You gasp, erotically, as he takes one of your nipples in his mouth as sucks sweetly.

“Shuuji…” you moan, losing yourself to his touch. “What’s behind your back?”

“Somethin’ very special, it’s old but looks like new.” he smiles into your body. “I got you it years ago, didn’t get the chance to give you it.”

“I wanna see.”

He reaches behind his back. And it’s odd, the look in his eye is almost hesitant. Like he doesn’t want to give it to you. He isn’t sure of himself. Is he worried that you won’t like it? But, your pleading gaze wins him over.

“I… I want to hate it, but I don’t. I, I love it.” you giggle. It’s a collar. A beautiful pink collar with your name engraved on the silver bone. “Oh God, I really love it.”

“There’s a leash too.” Hanma laughs. He raises it to put it around your neck, and you find yourself letting him with not a single complaint. Maybe you’re in a state of unknowing because of what you did to Kisaki. Nothing matters and nothing feels real. But for whatever reason. You are obsessed with this new accessory. And it’s sick, because it feels romantic. In days gone by, you were known as nothing to him other than Hanma’s toy. But this… has your fucking name on it.

“Fuck. Hanma… ‘m really yours, aren’t I? Always been yours.”

“Yeah. Always been mine.”

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