You were tasked to eliminate a man, but you couldn’t ignore your own needs, so you eliminated the man from your boyfriend’s hotel room using a sniper and had fun with him afterward.
Explicit Sexual Content, Male Bottom Reader, Overstimulation, Belly Bulge, Creampie, Fingering, Hotel Sex, Choking, Rough Sex, Anal Sex
Word Count: 1,7k
The sniper lay prone against the stone balcony, one gloved hand steadying the barrel while the other rested lightly on the trigger. Through the scope, you watched your target with little relevance to his surroundings, keeping an eye on his movements as he paved his way through the streets. The moment he arrived in a secluded area, assuming he was waiting for someone, you shifted your aim and focused the crosshair at his temple. However, before you could pull the trigger, arms circled themselves around you, pressing his cold chest against your back.
“Blade,” you sighed, but kept your focus as you finally pulled the trigger. You watched through the scope as the bullet pierced through the man's temple, his body hitting the ground in an instant while blood swamped the concrete.
“Are you done?” Blade asked, his voice rough and husky as he littered kisses all over the back of your neck. His arms that circled your waist slid down and began unfastening the ribbon of your robe, grinding his hips into your back. Clearly, he didn't bother wearing anything besides the towel around his hips, his hair damp and body trickling with remnants of water.
“Greedy as always,” you chuckled before moving the sniper away from the balcony, placing it down on the table just beside you both before finally turning around to face him. “Couldn't wait 'til I came back inside, hm?” you murmured as you removed your gloves and put them aside. Blade kept his arms around you, staring right down at you before grabbing your chin with one hand and pulling you in for a fierce kiss.
You hummed into it, kissing back hungrily as you wrapped your arms around him. His hand moved down and squeezed your ass, his tongue sliding against yours while your hand roamed his back. He pushed you against him, grinding his erection against yours that was already peeking out of your robe through the towel. He wrapped his fingers around your cock, a whimper escaping your lips at the sudden sensation, and you pulled away from the kiss.
“Ahhn... Blade... Baby... wait... l-let's go inside first—hmph!”
Uncaring of your predicament, he kissed you again while his thumb circled the head, smearing the bead of precum around it.
You pulled back again, panting, a string of saliva connecting both your lips. “Blade, come on,” you whispered, grinding your hips against his hand. “We can go all out inside...”
At your words, Blade grinned and pulled away, kissing you softly for a moment as if you guys weren't about to mate like rabbits in heat once you got inside.
He dragged you in, sliding the glass door closed as he pushed you into the bed, nibbling on your bottom lip the moment he was on you. You removed your robe and threw it aside before yanking the towel on his hips. His cock, thick and veined, stood erect and throbbing.
“You were taking so long,” Blade grumbled, his voice sending sparks down your leaking cock, and you let out a small whimper. You couldn't help it. There was just something about his voice that made your cock and hole tingle.
“Well, I'm here now, no?” you whispered, spreading your legs.
“True. I don't wanna waste any more time,” Blade murmured as he shifted between your legs, grabbing the lube on the bedside table the hotel kept, and poured a generous amount on your hole. Nudging the tip of his fingers in, he pushed a finger in, knocking a gasp out of you. Your hands reached up and gripped his shoulders, pulling him close as you moaned right beside his ear. Whether it was intentional or not, neither of you cared, although the sound of your moans did turn Blade on even more, as seen from the way his finger sped up inside you.
Once he felt that you were loosening up, he inserted another one, his long and thick fingers pumping in and out of you covered in lube. His other hand gripped your thigh, leaning into your neck to mark your skin while his fingers remained buried in your hole.
“Blade... hmmg! P-please... it's... ah... not enough..!”
You whimpered, grinding your hips back, trying to gain more friction from his fingers. Blade grinned against your neck before you finally felt his fingers hit your prostate, bullying it dead on. He rubbed against your walls as he added another finger, shoving three fingers in and out as you began to writhe and shake uncontrollably.
“Feels... good! Haaah!~ Hmmmghh~!!”
Curling his fingers inside your gummy walls, you couldn't help but let out all the slutty moans you could muster with your throat still working. He lifted his head and kissed you fiercely again, his other hand moving up to grip your neck—not tight enough to prevent any air from entering, but just tight enough to put pressure that would make you feel a bit high. And it's working well, as seen from the way your hole clenched around his fingers.
“I want to put it in,” Blade said as he pulled out his fingers and began to grind his thick cock against your own, making you whimper. He kept his hand on your throat while he grabbed his cock with the other. Pushing the tip in, a gasp escaped your lips from the intrusion, your hands moving to grip the bedsheets as you watched his cock enter your slick, needy hole.
“Fuck, didn't I just fuck you the other day?” he groaned, shoving his hips deeper, forcing a loud moan to spill from your lips. It didn't hurt that much, no, but you still weren't used to how big he was.
“You’re just so… big…” You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his hips, pushing him further into you. With that, he began to move, your weight dipping down into the mattress as he let go of your neck and grabbed your waist. He angled his hips, his thick, veiny cock hitting the bundle of nerves that always made you cry out. The sight of you in bed was so different from the usual facade you wore, and oh, does he take pride in seeing you underneath him, legs spread, hole gaping around his cock, and moaning his name out loud like it’s the only thing your head can register.
“Fffuckkk…! Blade! Baby! Please…! So good!~ AH!... Hhhnnah~! Nghhh..~” You were beginning to drool, dribbling down your chin, like some cheap whore. His thrusts began to turn brutal but passionate, fucking his cock deeper into your hole, watching his cock go in and out of your tight hole. Only then did he notice the bulge in your stomach every time he pushed in, his cock growing inside you at the lewd sight.
“D-did you get bigger—HaaAh!?”
A loud moan escaped your lips when Blade suddenly grabbed both your arms, holding them between you both as he began to fuck roughly into you, pushing his cock deeper and making sure your tummy bulged at every thrust. You couldn’t muster anything besides moaning and screaming his name, your eyes rolling back the moment he used his other hand to press down the bulge below your belly button. You whimpered loudly, squirming, but to no avail, as he held your wrists together.
“Sooo… big…! Too muchhhh hnffnn…! Mhmmm…~!” You babbled, trembling, knees weak. Blade’s thrust was consistent, the bed creaking at every harsh thrust and hitting the headboard in rhythm. Blade could go on for days, even after multiple orgasms, so long as he gets to see you wrecked and drenched in his cum. He knows that you, too, can keep up with him in the long run.
“I’m gonna cum,” he moaned, letting go of your wrists and gripping your hips once again, manhandling your body to take him to the hilt. You could feel it now—the coiling in your stomach, the impending release that’s about to give you a blast. You’re gonna cum without having your dick touched, and Blade knew as he noticed how your cock throbbed.
“Cum with me,” Blade groaned, his dick equally twitching inside you, pulsing as his own orgasm neared. He’s so focused on chasing his releasee that his movements are beginning to turn sloppy, eager to cum inside you and see your hole gape around his cock full of hot cum, let it drip down your ass, and shove his dick all over again.
That thought alone, with you messed up under him, was enough to make him spill inside you. At the hot sensation of his cum filling you up, you couldn’t help but release as well, moaning loudly as you squirmed under, your cum spurting onto your stomach and chest. A sob escaped your lips, whining as your cock ached from cumming hard, panting as you tried to blink away the blurriness in your eyes. You whimpered when you felt Blade move above you, finally pulling his cock out of your hole, and the moment he did, cum dribbled out of your gaping ass.
Your stomach was covered in cum, chest heaving and body drenched in sweat. Blade glided his fingers into your hair, pushing the strands of hair that stuck to your forehead away. You hummed and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close and nuzzling your head against his chest. “Mhmm… Why are you so rough today…?” You asked, pressing a soft kiss against his neck.
Blade didn’t say anything for a moment, slipping his strong arms around your back and lifting you up. However, instead of bringing you to the bathroom, he placed you on his lap, your hole hovering over his cock.
“A-ah? Eh..? Waaaait…! HnnAgh!?”
“Not yet,” Blade grunted as he manhandled you into his cock once more, your back arching as you came hard once more at the sudden intrusion, your cock spurting cum over yours and Blade’s stomach. Your eyes rolled back, mouth agape as he began to bounce you on his cock, hitting and rubbing your walls, overstimulating you more than usual.
“We’re not done yet.”
You didn’t know how long you two kept at it, but Blade made sure that his fantasy of filling you up and fucking you all over again came to life, even if you were far too gone. Simply because he knew you’d come asking for him to fuck you again in the morning anyway. It was too good to miss out…
I'm imagining a villain Nanami here.
I remember I started writing this in June, ngl I have not seen much of JJK since very early last year so Nanami is not like himself here MWAHAHa
Backshots from an angry, tired, drunk salaryman below my bro
PREVIEW: “Unless you’d like me to feed you first,” he mutters, looking back at you as he slots the key into the lock.
You stare back at him, not quite appalled by the request, but by his gall.
“Your boyfriend just bro” —he slurs through the word— “-ooke up with you, hm? I could take your mind off that. And feed you, if you like.” He licks his lips. “Sir.”
—
The train is, as per usual, seating several of the typical unfortunate salarymen held back until mind-bendingly late by their bosses. They’re all luckier than you. You’d been out dancing and grinding on stranger after stranger in every club in Tokyo, crying on your friends’ shoulders after reading the pathetic break-up text you got earlier that afternoon. Your head falls into the crook of your elbow. The pain is a sorry thing. Toji was good comfort for your body, that was all it ever was. But remembering him has you swaying on your feet as you grip the handhold above you.
At 00:30, with half-drunk tears pricking your eyes, one of these drunk men finally bumps into you. He’s handsome enough to make you less annoyed; just another stranger to move your body with. Politely.
Your hands find his hips to right his balance. “Careful, sir.”
His balance remains unruly. Discordant enough with the rest of his body to have him falling back into you as the train speeds over a particularly bumpy track. You grunt, accommodating his weight with your hands even more firmly wrapped around his hips.
“Sir,” you say, “I’m going to have to move you, is that alright?”
He mumbles something and nothing. You frown, meeting his gaze to gauge his reaction further. Fuck it all if you’re embarrassed, having to manhandle a heavy, handsome blonde into a seat on the train. His eyes have that pit in your stomach dropping with greater weight. His gaze is sharp, perhaps not lucid but entirely alert. Whatever you’re doing, however you’re helping him, he’s the one letting you do it.
You give him a smile. He doesn’t match your ignominy, or your discretion. His feet stumble one over the other as you guide him into a chair with your body supporting him from his armpit, your arm around his wide shoulders. The man is big.
Against your better judgment, you decide to take the seat next to him.
“You, uh… think you’ll be able to get home alright?”
“Mmm.” Your ears savor that small sound. His voice is deep. Smooth as velvet. “Don’t… about me.”
His head thumps into the back of the seat. Huh, respect. From that vigilance in his eyes alone you know he’ll be fine on his own. Could probably rip someone to pieces in the dark with his bare hands, drunk or not. His fingers are thick, his hands popping with veins.
His Adam’s apple bobs as his voice fills your ears. Ah. You’re watching him a little too closely. “H-help me home. Think your grip h-hurt my hips.”
You nearly jump away from him in sheer humiliation. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You were a little heavy. I had to—”
“Just help me home,” he repeats, slurring through his words. Every time he speaks, you have to lean in, face moving so close to his you can feel his breath with every word. Man must be a mumbler at work. His state of utter inebriation rips through every quality of communication he might already not possess. “Sure you’re strong enough for it.”
You follow him off the train, watching him from a distance until you reach the stairs. You shake off the embarrassment and hold an arm out to him. He lets you wrap your arm around his shoulders, holding him steady as his feet stumble down the stairs. You laugh a bit when you nearly trip with him.
“What. Are you laughing. At?” he snaps.
“This whole setup is worse,” you say honestly. “It’s like you’ve given the both of us six feet each.”
“I jus’” —he hiccups, and for the first time you find him cute instead of handsome— “Worked an eighteen-hour shift. Please help me out.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve got you, don’t worry.”
“There’s my house,” he says as you tap his card then yours to exit the station. He points a shaky finger to a cozy apartment sitting next to a bakery, right outside the station. The store is still open.
You make an involuntary noise in your throat, your stomach responding to the sight of sticky pastries lined up in perfect rows. You drag him towards his apartment with quicker steps. Such delightful motivation. You’d move in with him if you could, just for this bakery.
“P-please slow down,” he asks, his first time bearing some sense of discretion towards you.
“I’m sorry. Of course.”
You heave him up further to support his weight with more of your body. He leans on you, unabashed as his unsteady steps take you towards his home. Under his suit, his apparent musculature bulges to fit right into your hands.
His hands fumble for the keys once you reach the front steps. He reaches a hand out to the wall, yet you remain by his side, your hand gently clutching his waist, keeping him steady as he sways from side to side.
“This is the first time someone else has been around my house in quite some time,” he says, coherent in his melancholy. Ah, the mood swings of a drunk.
“If you’re up to it, sir, we could share pastries at the bakery next door. It’s still open.”
“No,” he replies, absently. “I want to fuck you.”
Ah. Was he just reading your mind?
“Sir?”
“Unless you’d like me to feed you first,” he mutters, looking back at you as he slots the key into the lock.
You stare back at him, not quite appalled by the request, but by his gall.
“Your boyfriend just bro” —he slurs through the word— “-ooke up with you, hm? I could take your mind off that. And feed you, if you like.” He licks his lips. “Sir.”
“You know what.” You shake off the embarrassment, again. Thrice, this man has had you embarrassed. “What size are you?”
“XL in Trojan.”
Huh. That’s exactly what you have in your bag.
“If you have a bed, I won’t even need any bread.”
“We’re fucking, then?”
He unlocks the door.
“Definitely.”
—
“Relax.” His hand settles onto the middle of your back, gently guiding you onto your hands with your ass up in the air. His other hand rims your hole, casually skilled in its motions as he dips his hand palm-down and curls it to press into your prostate. You’re already loose for him, prepped by his strong fingers. Hole slick with lube.
“You can think about him like this, yes?” he chuckles. “I’ll be thinking about you, though.”
“I’m letting you go bareback,” you stammer slightly as his fingers press into you in a wonderful arch, “Whose cock d-do you think I’ll be thinking about?”
“If it hurts, tell me. I’ll take it s-slow with you.” The skill this man has, even when drunk, makes you wonder how he might have you if he were clear-headed and sober. Your cock is already leaking onto his bed sheets.
The head of his cock taps into your hole. Inch by inch, he slips into you. The muscles in your ass stretch around him. His cock, slick with lube, comes halfway in. At the sheer stretch, your face twists. You turn away from him.
“Too much?” he asks. “Come on. Let me help you adjust so I can fuck you into my bed already.”
Fuck. Why’s he turning so mean? You’re clenching up a little over it.
“No,” you order. “Keep going.”
You can feel him frown from behind you, but he continues. His hips draw closer to yours. His hands grip you hard. Your body nearly gives out when his cock, so much fucking thicker than any you’ve ever taken, finally brushes upward into your prostate.
“Ngh,” you moan softly, mouth dropping open.
“Mm, no need to be embarrassed. I’ll ha-ave you worse in a bit.”
“Stop talking like that,” you mutter, arching your back and jutting your pretty ass out. “Just give it to me.”
You shift your weight to your knees, sliding his cock further between your cheeks until he’s inside you up to the base and you can feel the strong lines of his stomach on your ass. He grunts, throwing his head back as your hole swallows him up.
With your ass to his hips, he laughs, a drunken chuckle breaking the air. “Needy big boy.” He grinds his hips into the plush fat of your ass cheeks. The muscles in his stomach rub against you. “Your bo-oooyfriend too small for it?”
You fumble for a reply with him tucked deep inside you. You find nothing coherent. Honesty becomes your next best virtue: “Just fuck me!”
“Bratty.”
But he does fuck you. Your hole clenches around him as he pulls out, your body knowing better than you how badly you need him to fuck into you.
“Spread your legs,” he mutters, grabbing the inside of your thigh, just above your knee, to wrap it around his waist. “I’ll fuck you good. You keep showin’ that you don’t want me to nice about this.”
You lose all sense of balance. His hips drive into you harder, but he keeps your leg in the air, wrapped firmly around his waist. At his mercy, you tip forward, ass far up enough it allows him room to thrust almost vertically into your hole.
“Keep. Your back. Arched,” he demands, his free hand settling on the small of your back. Again, he molds your body to follow his command. That’s all it takes for your mouth to open. You moan, shameless in the pleasure this drunk, nameless man is giving you. In his strong sense of control. In knowing that you can simply lie there and take it—let yourself be a sweet, tight hole for such a big man.
“Yeah,” he says, voice ripe with pure satisfaction. “Good boy.”
“Fuck!” you cry when the blonde angles his hips to pile-drive right into the sensitive muscle of your prostate. Each press into that sensitive muscle sends strong jolts of pleasure straight from his cock, into your ass and up every one of your nerves. “Fuck, please!”
“You’re tight,” he mutters, and you try to wrap your head around the drunken garble of his words but he’s really only talking to himself, “And I’m not sober. Don’t think I’ll last long…”
His thrusts slow, gradually, to a sensual grind. Like the thrusts of a long-time lover. You give a moan at the slow, intentional drag along your prostate, of his bare cock, veins and hardness and all, sliding rawly inside you.
He continues this pace. You spare a glance at the beautiful drunk man taking you from behind. He shivers with every push of his hips, closed eyes fluttering whenever your hole gives a good clench. His mouth has fallen open. You smell the booze on his breath. The cologne sprayed into his forearms.
What a delicious man.
“Can’t take it, huh?” you tease, nearly drunk yourself, on his cock. “I’m too tight for you?”
He looks up at you from under blonde lashes, eyes hazy from liquor. “Do you want me to fuck a baby into you?”
You blink at the question. “Huh?”
“I—” he hiccups. “I can’t keep up that pace for long. It’ll make both of us cum quick.”
You have never had this kind of conversation during sex. Not with Suguru. Not even with men like Toji. “You mean, like earlier?”
He gives a long, pleasured sigh as he continues his measured thrusts, his head falling back once more. So easily distracted just because you’re better than anything he’s ever had. You know that for a fact. “Mmmhmmm… just like earlier.” One of his hands falls from your hip. His face relaxes into the picture of bliss.
Your own eyes flutter as his cockhead catches your prostate. You turn away from him, giving a soft gasp with your face in the pillow. His cock is so good.
You feel the bed shift, creaking. His hands slide up your body, up past your peaked nipples and bulging pecs until he can slot a hand under your jaw to tilt your head up so that your moans erupt into open air.
“I don’t want you to keep quiet for me,” he murmurs, his chest to your back, his mouth on your ear. You tense, and without even a single one of his fingers on you your cock gives a harsh, aching throb into the sheets.
“I—” your words break off with a loud moan as his hand wraps around your throat in full. You can feel his drunken smile on your ear. “I want that baby.”
“Don’ worry,” he chuckles. “I’ll give it to you.”
You know he means it. And you brace yourself, hands back on the bed as his body straightens. You watch him, peering behind you from under the sweat on your brow. He pours lube into his hand. Sets the bottle on the nightstand. He smiles as he meets your eyes.
“Back arched, pretty boy.”
You thrust your ass into the air, back straight as a rod for him. Your eyes find the pillow once more. Minimalist embroidery lines the silk.
His thrusts resume, and the pillow moves in your vision. You chew on your bottom lip as his thrusts overwhelm every other sensation, as his scent and the growing musk of sex shoots up your nostrils. His wet hand slips between your body and the sheets.
His hand finds your cock. You shiver at the feel. He strokes you in slow, squeezing strokes, all in time with every press of his hips into yours.
You shudder against him, pressed tight between the sheets and his musculature on your back. “Mmnnn…” His fingers roam the head of your cock, pressing into the slit with skill. Rubbing precum all over your tip. Your balls have never felt so full.
“Call me Kento, hm?” he says.
“Ahn… I’m (Name).”
“Handsome name.” His pace quickens. Edged with desperation. Oh, fuck. He’s starting to throb inside you.
His grunts break off into loud moans of your name. The pace of his hand grows. His fingers twist around your tip in mind-numbing, impossibly nimble strokes.
“Sir, Kento—please slow… down… oh!”
His hand is so fucking slick on your cock. Like creamy butter wrapping around your length. You cry out and buck wildly against him, your hips pushing him away while he pushes merciless, borderline violent thrusts into your prostate.
“Please oh god please please I can’t—I can’t—” you whine, begging for him to stop because you’re going to cum all over his sheets in under a minute since he’s started fucking you like he means it.
He tames your hips, pushing a strong hand into the small of your back. Your spine stays arched. God he’s taking such good care of you, ensuring the perfect arch in your back so that his thrusts don’t push into a limp spine and end up injuring you.
Your body still struggles against him, the onset of an orgasm approaching too fast. “Kento, please....”
His cock gives a violent throb inside you. If you could see his face, you would see the deep furrow between his brows, the way your words have him gritting his teeth.
“You can,” he tells you. “You will. You are. I’m going to make you cum while I put my baby inside you.”
His body envelops yours. Kento hunches over you. His thrusts lose their rhythm, and can you really blame him when he’s drunk and fucking into someone as good as you? The heat of his labored, hard breathing falls over your ear. You know he’s having a hard time trying to hold back, trying to get you there at the same time as him.
But his thrusts only get harder. Impossibly. More brutal, more desperate than you thought possible. You fall face-first into the pillow, his own face pressed into the back of your head, buried in your hair. Through the haze of your fast-approaching orgasm you feel him murmur praise and thanks into your hair.
“Feel so good,” he says. “(Name), you feel so good.”
His mouth finds the back of your ear. He moans those same sweet nothings. Praising you, a good samaritan of a stranger, not for helping him home or offering to share a snack earlier, but for finally keeping your back arched for him, for being a good hole for him, for spreading your legs for him.
He tugs at your hair to remove your face from the pillow, and you know he might be a little bit angry to see you hiding your pleasure from him. With a hand on your head, fingers locked into your hair, he uses you as leverage to pound into your ass, his face still pressed up against you. You feel the weight of him closing over you. He engulfs every other sense.
You gasp in oxygen. Whining and press your ass back into his hips, begging with your body for him to get you to cum all over his sheets.
He moans from behind you. You feel his cock pulsate. Your own throbs as he squeezes it in his hand.
“Told you—” he grunts. “I don’t last long at this pace.”
You moan with him as his cock shoots cum up your hole. You savor his sounds, cupping the back of his neck with a hand to bring him close to you, upon the crook of your neck. He shudders with his orgasm, collapsing on top of you and forcing your kness to give, your cock squished between your body and the sheets. He presses even deeper inside in this position. You feel his back arch to push in until you know every centimeter of him is throbbing inside you, working to plug you full of his cum. His hand cups your face, lovingly. His other grips your hip to bring you closer to him, so that you are hip to ass, no space in between.
“Fuck, you didn’t cum,” he mutters, even as he’s still piping you full of his cream. He pulls out and you don’t even see how he moves, the world simply spins, and then you’re on your back and for a moment his cum shoots onto your stomach, the tip of his cock twitching with his orgasm, before he’s filling you again.
His hand finds your cock. But by then he’s already close to finishing, his eyes fluttering with the rest of his orgasm. His breathing comes out as labored moans as his cock erupts with cum inside you. Through the intense orgasm, he still manages to prop your legs over his shoulders in a swift movement and resume his thrusts at only a fraction behind the breakneck pace from earlier.
He slams into your prostate, already finished and ascending into the pain of overstimulation. You see it on his face. He squeezes at your cock and borderline abuses the sensitive, quavering tip.
“Cum for me?” he asks with a grunt.
Your cock throbs as you cum all over his abs. Given the pace your moans are loud, desperate, the squelches of his hand squeezing your cock and your own hole wrapping tight around him a wild cacophony that emerges as a pleasant symphony to his ears.
He chuckles. “There we go.”
When you finish, dazed eyes focused on a blurry point on the ceiling, he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Good boy.”
Water splashes in the next room as your stranger runs a bath. When he pulled out, giving you another kiss, this time on your jawline, he had immediately rushed to the bathroom to grab you a clean towel. You’d never been pumped so full of someone else’s cum before. Even he seemed surprised.
The man, Kento, you remember moaning, approaches the bed. “May I?”
You spread your legs. You don’t have it in you in the present moment to be independent or shy. He was the one who made the mess inside you, after all.
He wipes the cum dribbling out your hole gently. His hand settles gently on your knee as he works. Then he flips the towel to its cleaner side to wipe your cum from your stomach. Seems like he’s cleaned your cum off of his abdomen.
He stares at your stomach for a moment, eyes fluttering in thought. Before he can wipe the fluids away, you scoop up a good amount with your fingers. You rise into a sitting position. Face moving close to his. He opens his mouth as you give him a taste of your cum with your fingers.
Synopsis – On the dining table, against the wall, on the couch, on the carpet, against the window, can you imagine how many positions the Colonel wants to put you in after a weeks-long mission, after his first taste of you that night on his birthday?
[18+ Love & Deepspace] Caleb (Xia Yizhou)/Gender-Neutral Reader
Tags: MARATHON SEX, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, food play, male-receiving oral, gender-neutral oral, doggy style, prone bone, missionary, riding, WHINY reader and WHINY Caleb, POSSESSIVENESS and jealousy, heavy making out, some angst because can you imagine how lonely Caleb was before we found him?
Word count: 5.7k
EXPLICIT SMUT BENEATH. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
THE USE OF ANY FORM OF ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE ON MY WORKS IS PROHIBITED.
—
The Colonel was used to coming home to a dark house. A deep frown on his face as he passed through the empty doorway, no one to greet him. A frustrated sigh as he went over the endless stream of mission data and reports to secure his position in the Fleet, to forget about the fact that only rabid hatred and angry violence made up his very DNA as an officer in the Fleet—from assassination attempts on his life to angry husbands and wives trying to claw his eyes out for stealing their beloveds away from them with his orders for full Toring Chip implantation on all members of his Fleets.
He’s a bad man, and he knows he deserves more pain than an empty house or empty threats on his life. But today, he comes home to the scent of his favorite spices wafting through an open window. The dark house in his hazy memories those first months after his supposed death and initial deployment in the Fleet is alive today with orange lights. A young tree of Asiatic apples blooms in the afternoon sun at the end of the stone path leading to the front door.
He remembers your hands as you planted it. The only hands that have held him with love in the last year.
Caleb crosses the stone path. Your silhouette crosses the open window. He catches a glimpse of a tray in your hand.
He races to the front door, a smile coming to his face as he hears you move around in the kitchen. You make little grunts of effort, a few noises of delight—you must be trying the dishes you’d prepared for his arrival. Caleb has never smiled so hard in his life since that day at Gran’s house.
With concentration furrowing his brow, he adjusts his tie, dusts off his cap, and straightens his posture. He places a hand on the doorknob.
You’d left the door unlocked. He swings it open.
“I’m home!” he calls, to a house aglow with soft overhead lights and a ‘Welcome Back!’ sign strung up in golden balloons at the roof of the entryway.
“Oh shit, Caleb!” Caleb melts at the sound of your voice, even with the expletive. “In the kitchen!”
He can’t help himself. Caleb reaches the kitchen in four quick strides, almost running towards the sound of your voice.
He scoops you up in his arms the moment he reaches you. With a reluctant laugh you struggle against him and begin to complain.
“Caleb, the pie! It’s apple pie!”
He doesn’t let go. And in spite of how funny it is to hear you protesting his affections all to save a pie, he can’t help the melancholic swell in his chest. He has never come home to safety, to love. The last few months, he returned home as a dead man—on paper and to everyone he ever knew.
But you’ve changed that. It took just your smile, he remembers those first few nights he returned to you, to change so many things about him. You made him want to be alive in spite of how he was dead in every possible aspect.
With his face pressed into the crook of your neck, Caleb begins to cry.
You still immediately as the salt of his tears wets your shoulder. His sobs are gentle. He presses himself closer to you, bending down with his arms wrapped so completely around you, stronger than any gravitational pull. Against the typical gentle nature of comfort you pull him into a tighter embrace, savoring the feel of the only man you love coming back home to you, safe and sound, in your arms. He deserves to know that you will never let him go. So you show him that with your arms wrapped just as tightly around him.
When he stills and his cries turn to sniffles, you pull back from him to smile up at his handsome face, wiping tears from under his glistening supernova irises. Your thumbs are soft on his cheeks as you wipe the tears of your beautiful boy. He gives a gentle smile as he looks down at you.
You’ve never been looked at with so much love.
“Welcome home, Caleb.”
And Caleb has never loved the sound of three words more.
—
Caleb compliments your cooking all throughout the meal. Of course he can’t help throwing in a few quips at you here and there. He teases your Julienned carrots, poking you in the nose as he reminds you of how you cut up so-called Julienned carrots into little letter ‘J’s in every home economics class because you believed the kid who bullied you when he told you Julienne meant spelling out the inventor’s name. Seated next to him, knowing you can’t stay away and you would have transferred to the seat over anyway if you’d sat across from him, you get the chance to shove another forkful of, in your opinion, perfectly Julienned carrots in his mouth as he snorts out another laugh at your irritated expression.
“Go ahead and get changed into something more comfy,” you tell him once he finishes the main course. Because, of course, you’d crafted three specific courses for his return. You’ve only gone through two so far.
“I haven’t had dessert yet though,” he says, eyeing the apple pie on the plate next to your elbow. You grab it, holding the plate in front of him in a tempting hover.
“You want it?”
He snorts. “Boo. I just got home and you’re already bullying me?”
“You heard me, Caleb.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, standing. He spares one last glance at you, smiling at the sight of you filling his dining room with light and scrumptious home cooking and a smile that could be the sun in all his lifetimes. He goes up the stairs to get changed.
And with that, you undergo your own costume change.
You’d planned this the whole time he was gone. Turned the idea over in your head a million times. He’d so enjoyed receiving you as his gift—matter of fact, he admitted staining his pants a bit when you’d arrived at Fleet HQ in an outfit wrapped in ribbons on his birthday a few weeks back. Wouldn’t he enjoy having you as a gift, just one more time?
But what if he already thought the idea was corny? As you strip down till you’re in nothing but your underwear, regret begins to come to the surface. Here you were being presumptuous about the kinds of things Caleb would like. You’ve never explored anything remotely sexual with him before, and you’d only been together a few months. That one night on his birthday was all you had. Your brow furrows with embarrassment, and you reach for your clothes again—
“Oh,” a voice breathes from behind you. “Pipsqueak…”
Wrapped in lace that hugs your frame, you know you look like the most mouthwatering meal Caleb will ever have a taste of. But the embarrassment lingers, even as he approaches with sin already pooling in his eyes, his muscles bulging from the tight white shirt he put on, the dogtag you gave him nestled between his outrageous pecs. When you chance a glance downward, you can see how his dick print begins to swell in his grey sweats—its outline grows larger the longer you look at it.
“Is this all for me?” he asks, his fingers ghosting over your bare shoulder. You catch his hand before it can move further downward.
“I haven’t spoiled you rotten already, have I?” you tease. “Be patient. This dessert is for later.” You move to his side and guide him to his chair. “Sit down.”
Caleb tilts his head, curious at what you have prepared for him when you look more than ready for him to dive in between your thighs.
You walk around him once he’s seated, picking up the tray of three servings of apple pie. Caleb almost stands up to help. All it takes is a look from you and he’s sitting back down slowly as you set the tray in front of him.
“Here’s your dessert, Colonel.”
He doesn’t even spare a glance at the apple pie—his eyes never leave you. Pshaw. You’d work so hard on presentation. The caramel on top even shines a creamy gold.
“Pipsqueak—”
“If you keep talking and don’t start eating, you’re going to miss out on your real dessert.” He doesn’t pick up on your impatience. If he asked you nicely right now, you’d bend over for him and let him pound you into next Sunday. You’ve missed him just as much as he misses you.
The Colonel likes a good challenge. He shovels each forkful of pie into his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. At times he glances down at your figure and slows down, sometimes pausing completely. But after several seconds of eyeing you like a hungry wolf he seems to remember where he is and what he should be doing and resumes piggin’ out.
It’s when he’s halfway done with the apple pie that you remember the second half to this part of your plan. While sensual, your movements are a bit harried.
Caleb pauses eating as you stand in front of him, as you had made enough space between the table and his seat when you planned this slightly new kitchen layout. You motion for him to continue eating. With a swipe of your thumb to his lips, you catch a crumb of apple pie that had caught on his mouth, and press it to your lips, swallowing while maintaining eye contact with the man whose hard-on grows more and more prominent by the millisecond.
He knows better now than to stop eating. He just has to be good for you. So even as you press gentle kisses to his jawline and along his neck, akin to the fluttering touch of a butterfly, he continues to obey your previous orders.
But when your body slides downward, your chest pressing warm against his before you keep going down and down and down, smooth as molasses, finally landing on your knees between his spread legs, he finds his voice again.
“Pip—”
Any words he might have for you are lost in a grunt and him nearly choking on a mouth full of apple pie as you press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his cock through his sweats. Already more than half-hard, it was easy for you to find the tip. You give him another kiss through his sweatpants, mouth catching in just the right way at the tip. His thighs part to make more space for you. When your eyes find his again and take in him obediently finishing up the apple pie, you smirk. His reward will be priceless.
You pull his sweats to his ankles. He didn’t even bother wearing boxers. His cock springs up to smack gently against your lips, and as it slaps into your mouth you give a hungry little gasp.
You don’t hesitate to kiss and suckle along the length of him. You start kissing from the side of his cockhead to the base, before you press intimate kisses to the rest of his length, tongue lolling out to lick at him with every. Single. Kiss. Caleb, with only about a total of five hours of experience since that night on his birthday, nearly cums then and there.
He grips the wood of the table hard in his hand as you kiss the underside of his cock, licking and sucking in heavy sweeps with your tongue. You moan against him, the vibrations crawling right up his spine. He leans back against his chair. Savors the first feel of your mouth on him. You didn’t get to have him like this that first night. He was too busy finding places to lick between your thighs.
“That’s so good (Name),” he murmurs. You look up. The fork is back on the plate at the table, and his hand is drifting towards you to hold your face in the most gentle touch.
You swat his naked thigh with a loud slap, your mouth still on him. Caleb looks down at you in real bewilderment, his dusky eyes hazy as a lazy sunset, before he recognizes your command and, with strain in his body, pulls the fork back to his mouth. He chews open-mouthed on the apple pie, panting through his meal, his head rolling back into the chair. His Adam’s apple bobs heavily as he swallows.
One thing you are truly skilled in is making this man struggle. You wouldn’t tell him just yet, but while he was away on mission you were busy practicing with a sex toy you’d kept hidden in your drawer for several months. Having him in your life as more than a friend has made you bring it back out into the world. While he was gone, you eagerly went over articles and forums, imagining with great pleasure how your newfound skills and efforts would translate into giving him the craziest head of his life.
You were a tad nervous earlier. But you reveal just how much you’ve practiced now.
“Baaaabyy, have you always been so good at this?” Caleb moans. “Ooohhh, oh fuck.”
You suck your cheeks inward. Bob your head up and down with your wet tongue pressed flat against the underside of his throbbing cock, caressing the sensitive skin of his frenulum every time you bring your head back up to his tip. Caleb shudders, swallowing another slice of apple pie through his struggle, his fists clenching. He hunches over the table and pants. It provides him with minimal relief, obstructing at the very least his hyper-arousing view of your mouth swallowing his cock down into your throat while you look up at him with the prettiest pair of teary eyes.
“You finished the pie yet, baby?”
Caleb’s cock twitches at the sound of your voice. It’s all fucked-out, raspy when you give voice to a vowel. He can only imagine the strain on your throat every time you sucked his cock into the back of your throat, holding it there so that he could feel the way your throat squeezed at his cockhead every time you gagged. When did you learn how to do such lewd things?
He decides to voice the question, leaning back to meet your gaze while he breathes hard through each word, “Where did you… learn to… do things like that?”
“Hmm?” You press a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock. Your tongue swipes over a bead of precum that slips out of the puckered hole on his tip. Caleb clenches his fist, holding steady in spite of your ministrations. Still he falters slightly when you nuzzle your soft mouth into him, your voice vibrating against his cock deliciously with your words, “What d’you mean, Cay?”
His eyes flutter. His nails bite into the skin of his palm as he clenches his fist harder. “I-I mean, have you had practice… before?”
You freeze. Guilt creeps upon your expression. At that, jealousy begins to churn in Caleb’s gut, corroding his patience.
You stammer out something silly, unwilling to admit you’d been going to town on a dildo the entire time he was gone so you could practice for his return, “Don’t get the wrong idea—”
Caleb bends down and lifts you from the ground.
In the past, Caleb would reel in his instinctive responses of jealousy. When you were teens and you’d gush to him about cute love letters left in your locker, all that would reach you were subtle words that reeked of envy, perhaps a “he’s never gonna be good enough for you” or “there’s somebody so much better out there just waiting for you.” Tonight, after every time you’ve given in to him, every time you let him push your limits, he decides to finally, just once, surrender to his petty jealousies.
Caleb has picked you up, his hands on the backs of your thighs. You’re vulnerable in his arms as he stands from his chair, not quite looking at you, his expression unreadable. You’d be afraid if you hadn’t put your life in this man’s hands a dozen times and without fail he prioritized it above all else.
“You’ve let somebody else touch you?” he asks, his face so close to yours you can almost taste the jealousy on his breath. “Somebody who would never even bother to take the time to learn exactly what you like, like I’ve always done?”
You don’t give him an answer.
He tilts his head at you. Even with his patience running thin, he will give you a chance to escape. “I’ll give you five seconds to answer.”
One second passes. Then two. Something inside him shifts as he closes his eyes in a final attempt at restoring his composure. Beneath his eyelids, images of how you might have let other people touch you, how you allowed somebody else to hold your precious body in their hands and give you pleasure that should have only been reserved for his eyes, the only ones that would look at you with love like his, pass through his mind. Inside him, a yawning, vicious black hole forms at those thoughts.
Caleb’s eyes open. You search his gaze and arousal jumps in your stomach as you take in the unnatural darkness in the eyes of your usually sweet, tender boyfriend. His pupils are blown wide in his lavender irises.
“Your five seconds are up,” he whispers.
With a gentle sweep of his arms, he sets you on the table. Caleb settles between your spread legs, his hands coming under your knees and hooking your thighs over his shoulders as he leans back to marvel at how beautiful you look with lace tracing the lines of your body. He knows exactly how he’ll ruin you so that you forget that anyone could have ever touched your body before him.
“We’ll need a safe word tonight,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing hair from your eyes. His eyes fall to your lips as they part with a soft noise of surprise.
“Apple,” you tell him.
“The moment you don’t like what I’m doing,” he says, “The very nanosecond you feel anything, you say it.”
Caleb’s thumbs slip under the underwear hiding your core from him. Later, he’ll tear through the rest of your clothing with his teeth. The lace ribbons especially.
“Because now,” he says, his fingers ghosting over your hole, “I’m not going to hold back. I’m going to spell my name out on your hole with my fingers, and my tongue, and my cock. And you won’t ever forget who you belong to.”
You shiver.
“I want you to,” you say. Your eyes don’t break away from his even as you moan while he circles your hole with a finger. Caleb drops to his knees, his head settling between your thighs. His tongue slips from his mouth and laves over your hole. You lie back onto the table and wrap your legs around his shoulders as he begins to devour his favorite dessert.
Vaguely, through the haze of three orgasms, you recall various sensations.
Caleb’s tongue lapping at your hole with dangerous vigor. How he sank his teeth into every inch of the fat of your inner thighs to mark the holy space between your legs with bruises that would remind you who you belonged to every time you looked down in the shower. The hickeys he sucked into your lower stomach will bloom a fresh purple in beautiful juxtaposition with the rest of the marks he left.
He tried to be sweet after turning you into nothing less than his last meal, after scissoring his fingers into your hole to the point where you had to beg for him to pull his skilled digits out and give you his cock already.
“Open your mouth,” he said. You parted your lips for him, looking up at him with dazed eyes, before arousal filled your gaze once again as he spat your cum into your mouth. His mouth hovered over yours as he let his spit and your cum dribble onto your waiting tongue, and he watched with dark eyes as you took it all, writhing beneath him with arousal.
“Swallow,” he commanded. You did, without question, without hesitation. “You like your taste?”
You can only nod.
“Yeah?” He rubs your bottom lip. “Discovered that it’s my favorite in the universe that night. June 13th, I’ll save the date. But from now on, I might just have to eat you up for breakfast every morning to get my fill.”
“You…” You shake your head at him. “Have always talked way too much.”
“Hm, what else should I be doing aside from havin’ a nice chat with the love of my life?”
Your eyes roll back into your skull for reasons you don’t like.
“You say that like you didn’t just suck the soul out of me,” you mutter.
“C’mon. Tell me what you want, honey.” Caleb hovers over you, a boyish smirk playing on his chapped lips.
You take his hand in yours. You never break away from his gaze, even as your hole twitches when you brush the pads of his fingers over your puckered, stretched entrance.
“Can’t you feel how hungry I am for you?” you ask. You guide his index finger, press it just enough so that it slides inside you ever so slightly. Caleb’s breathing hitches. “You neglected me for three whole weeks. I need your cock inside me, baby.”
Your breathing hitches as he gathers you in his arms, taking your hand away from your core to guide your arm over his neck. He captures your lips in a deep kiss, his tongue slick inside your mouth—you arch into the warmth of him, chest pressing to his, before your mouth opens with a loud gasp as his cockhead presses against your hole.
“I’m putting it inside,” he whispers quickly, his forehead against yours, voice mingling in relieved moans with your own sweet chorus of pleasure as he finally slides through your slick and into you. You watch as his whole face goes slack at the sensation of your tightness sucking him inside.
You arch against him, cling to him in desperation as he gives deep, seeking thrusts into your hole. You squirm as his tongue seeks your own once more, overwhelmed by sensation.
“Mnnn!”
Neither of you last long. You’d been apart from your lover for weeks with only his photos and pre-recorded vids for company. Some were innocent recordings of him singing his favorite song that you’d put on the record to keep you company while you cooked. Some were videos shot in the dark of his body soaked in sweat while he moaned your name, with you sitting on the other side of the screen imagining his hands on you.
Caleb falls apart first, moaning ‘pipsqueak, pipsqueak’ in reverence as he fills you. And when you cum for him, crying his name in relief and from the fullness of him in your body, he doesn’t give you a break. He lifts you into the air and slides you down onto his dick. In this position, you can’t run from him, can only writhe and twist as he presses relentless thrusts into you. He cages you against the wall, covering your neck in relentless kisses. After driving you to two orgasms against the cold concrete he rips the rest of the lace off you and bends you over his couch. Caleb commits the sight of you bent over for him, arching for him, to memory right then and there, taking in every dimple in your skin and every muscle that contracts as he fucks your aching hole.
“Caleb, I want more,” you say in a needy voice after he finishes inside you on the carpet, having ridden him till he whimpered for you to stop. Evening has already fallen over Skyhaven. The moonlight shines on your beloved as he pants with exhaustion on the carpeted floor, his cock at half-mast, craving your heat once more in the same way your eyes devour the sight of him now.
Caleb chuckles, the sound so low and rough and frankly so fucked-out. You shiver at how primal he sounds.
“Can’t get enough of me, huh, pips?”
You whine needily, upset that he’s taking so long to give you what you want. It isn’t like him to deprive both you and himself. “Caleb,” you mewl, calling for his attention as you bring yourself to stand by the floor-to-ceiling windows and present yourself to him under the stagelights of a bright moon. He turns to watch you, smirking, before his smug demeanor falls apart an instant later.
You press your chest to the glass as you bend over with weak legs to spread your ass for him with your fingers. Caleb gives a groan at the sight, crawling up to you in a hurry, his hands sliding over your ass and your hips as he reaches you. Finally, he stands, and adjusts his body to settle his torso over your arched back. You feel his length rise between your thighs before the now familiar spread of him spears inside you. Your hole stretches for him once more. Caleb inhales sharply at the first press.
“Caleb,” you moan, head thrown back. Caleb bends over your body, pressing a hand into the glass. He nuzzles into the back of your neck and gives a slow, lazy thrust into your hole.
“I’ll give you two more,” he promises. That nearly makes you weep.
“I can’t,” you whine. The noise is pathetic even to your own ears.
“Yes, you can.” His arms engulf you in a bear hug, dragging you into his hips as he meets your ass with his thrusts even as you try to squirm away from him. You feel the familiar weight of his Evol balance the both of you as he presses you into the window, and yet you know that with it, you have no means of escape from him. His hands settle over your chest and collarbone. “Say it with me, (Name).”
You shake your head. He squeezes your ass hard enough to leave a red handprint in your skin, forcing a surprised yelp out of you. The night has made you familiar with how he makes good on his threats. If you don’t give him two now, he’ll make you give him four.
“I-I can,” you whimper.
“Say it again. Say my name.”
“I can, Caleb, I can,” you say, voice breaking in the middle when he gives a precise thrust into a sensitive spot inside you. He learned all your ticks so quickly. Can push your puttons with just a shift of his hips or a kiss to a certain spot on your shoulder, or behind your ear.
Caleb grunts at your words. “You’re soaked down here,” he murmurs into your ear, probing your hole with his fingers even as he pistons his cock into you. You can feel him scooping up the fluids pouring from your hole. “But… did you see? All of it is my cum.”
Caleb tilts your head upward and brings his hand in front of your face. You moan at the sight of his fingers drenched white with his cum, pooling into the crease of his palm, all of it gathered from the nut he filled your hole with. Every single inch of your body throbs with arousal. You squeeze his cock as he shoves it inside you and he chuckles, the sound low in his throat. You can hear the smug smile on his face.
“Can you a-also give me two?” you ask, hiding your greed with sweetness in your voice.
Caleb huffs at your saccharine, honeyed tone. You sound so sweet underneath him, sounded sweet the whole night. His perfect little pipsqueak.
He might not know it yet, but he’s nothing but a fool when he’s balls-deep inside you. You’ve already noticed—you know you could ask for anything and he’d beg to be the one to give it to you.
You can feel the exact moment he gives in to your innocent plea. His body steadies over yours. He’s getting ready to give you everything you asked for.
“Easy peasy,” he mutters, feeling how easy it’ll be to cum inside you twice more especially when you look back at him with your tear-stained eyes, the pleasure in them matching his.
You laugh in a tired voice. But you know to brace yourself as he crowds you into the glass, his body pressing you to the window as his thrusts grow harder, find deeper places inside of you. It barely takes a minute of him simply giving you his cock in such an intimate, tight position against the window, his grunts breathing heat into your ear and nailing arousal straight into your brain, before you’re going limp in his arms and falling back into him with the first of the two orgasms he plans on giving you.
Your knees give out beneath you. Your body slides downward. Caleb’s body simply follows, too heavily weakened by the tight clench of your hole as your orgasm has you milking him with every piston of his hips. He doesn’t stop thrusting into you, letting you ride out the entirety of your orgasm, as you cum for him and slowly fall to the floor. Caleb’s chest heaves as he hunches over you, gritting his teeth as you clench up so tight around him.
Your moans are incomprehensible, uncontrolled noises pulled from your throat. He thinks he might hear syllables of his name in between, but you’re too far gone after the orgasms he gave you to put the words together. Your body writhes in his grip and he holds you close, keeps you steady even as your whole body submits to gravity and you end up on your hands and knees on the floor, body rocking back and forth with the continuous, unrelenting pistons of his hips.
“Oohhhh, baby, I’m never gonna get tired of how tight you squeeze me,” he mutters, watching the way your body slides back and forth on the rug every time he brings his hips to your ass. Your back tightens and he watches the muscles there strain. He can’t imagine how he survived being weeks away from this. This view only he gets to see, this pleasure only he is allowed to indulge in with this body of yours.
“Cum for me, Caleb, please,” you whine. “I need you to fill me up.”
It hits him then and there. The moment that plea leaves your lips, Caleb’s body, exhausted from so many rounds and sensitive from each one, gives out. The backs of his thighs tremble as you both collapse into the rug. His heartbeat presses into your back as he holds you close, folds you into the carpet beneath with his weight. He’s heavy above you, rasping your name in an endless, pleasured mantra as he pulsates within you to fill you with his cum. You cry at the feel of his weight, unable to escape from him as he pumps you full of cum, holding him to you with a hand on the back of his neck.
But he doesn’t stop. Even as he trembles and whimpers from the overstimulation, he continues to piston himself into you. You squeal in protest, too brainless to string together the vowels in a word.
“One… more,” he whimpers, kissing and biting the lobe of your ear, his breaths hot as he whispers his love to you, “One more, my baby. Soak my cock one more time.”
Your body writhes hard in his grip as his fingers find the most sensitive parts of your pelvis. He fingers you to and over the brink of overstimulation, and you can’t even tell him it’s too much, can’t ask him to stop—there are no words for the pleasure he gives you, the love pouring from his body into yours. Like always, you can only take what Caleb has to give. Even if it’s too much.
Vaguely, you register the pattern his fingers press into your body. You squeal in pleasure as you realize—C-A-L-E-B—and he does it over and over again, tracing his name where you’re most sensitive.
“Love you,” you finally babble after he pulls you to his chest to thrust up into you. “I love you so much, my Caleb.”
He whines, his cock as sensitive as your hole, drenched in slick, his cum and yours, and pulsating with overstimulation. “I love you, pipsqueak, baby, I love you—”
His voice cracks as his moans grow ragged. Caleb flips you onto your back and folds you into the floor. Pushes your legs up and locks them around his waist. And as his thrusts deepen, as your hole froths to become creamy with your cum and so much of his, your bodies give together at the same time.
Caleb cradles you to him as he cums first. He cries your name, looking down at you and never breaking your gaze as his cock fills you with final spurts of pleasure. You claw at his arms, nodding up at him and meeting his eyes just the same as he tells you to cum for him, to show him who your body belongs to, and he kisses your forehead as you finally twist beneath him and shower him in slick.
“My pipsqueak,” he murmurs softly, exhausted, but unwilling to pull away from you. You feel his cum drool from out of your hole, slipping down onto the carpet. Closing your eyes, you stroke his hair as he sighs into you, peppering your face in kisses.
“I missed you so much,” he says. He pulls back to look at you, at the mess he’s made of his lover. His pipsqueak, his his his. You’re all his.
“Mm, I can feel it,” you whisper, voice still hoarse from screaming his name. You let him maneuver you onto your side, still connected with him, as he snuggles you into his embrace. He ignores your complaints of being dirty and sweaty. He smells like sex. The scent of his cum dripping forth from inside you hits your nostrils.
“Give me five more minutes with you like this,” he says, and he sounds so sweet and how could you ever, ever tell him no, when throughout all the years he has given you everything you’ve ever wanted without protest, without complaint?
“I’ll be here however long you want, my Caleb,” you whisper into his ear, kissing him there. You feel him blush a bit as you settle into his side, and know just how to tease him further. “My Caleb, my Caleb, my Caleb.”
“Yes,” he says, sighing with content, “Caleb is all yours.”
—
Reblogs are deeply appreciated !!
This whole thang was like a year in the making. I deeply enjoyed writing this. I hope you enjoyed as well, little apple!!
ooo I don’t see a whole lot of dom silver! Ofc I can do this! I made this male reader since there’s not a whole lot of that either!
Likes making you wear lingerie under your uniform, knowing only he knows what’s under your pants
Loves how shy it makes you to wear girly lingerie especially
whispers the absolute dirtiest things to you in class and silently smiles to himself as you quickly try to hide your growing boner
somehow knows exactly where to touch you to make you feel the best
if he’s busy with homework, he’ll make you grind yourself against his thigh or cockwarm him while having your hands tied behind your back so you can’t jerk yourself off
seems more vanilla on the outside but is pretty damn kinky once he’s able to explore that side of himself with you
has had sex with you before in the forest behind the school to avoid Sebek catching you two (or worse, Lilia)
I need this man’s to put me in a headlock mmm big muscles
if you’re extra needy and start riding him while he’s sleeping, he can and will punish you when he wakes up by making you sit tied to a chair and watch him jerk himself off while you’re not allowed to touch him nor yourself
You were getting ready for bed when you noticed a flicker of green specks outside your window. You already knew who it was. Grabbing your jacket, you quickly headed outside
As you got closer, you saw the familiar tall silhouette "Tsunotarou! Good evening! How are you?" you greeted with a bright smile as you approached
Yes, the one who always visited Ramshackle during the night. The one and only Malleus Draconia, the future king of Briar Valley.
He turned to you and gave a small smile "Good evening to you as well, Prefect I'm doing well. How about you?"
"I'm good! You're out for another stroll? Did you make sure to tell Sebek and Silver-senpai?" you asked, a small sweat drop appearing as you recalled a certain incident involving the prince and his bodyguards.
"Yes, I informed them. I simply wished to take a stroll" he replied, turning his gaze away for a moment.
You paused and observed him carefully. Then you blinked.
To you, Malleus was surprisingly easy to read almost like an open book, unlike how everyone else perceived him.
The fearsome prince's lips had thinned into a slight frown or rather... he was pouting.
It was such a rare sight that it caught you off guard "Is something wrong, Mal?"
Malleus looked back at you and something in his eyes softened.
He let out a quiet sigh "I was excluded from another Housewarden meeting. Though, admittedly it was my own fault I wasn't informed of the time or the location and now my absence has become an issue. But, in all honesty... I truly wish to take part in those gatherings."
"I've tried thinking of solutions, but none of them seem to work."
You already knew about it. Whenever an important gathering took place, Malleus somehow always ended up being left out. Even during the orientation ceremony, he had been nowhere to be seen.
Still...you never imagined it affected the prince this deeply. Poor guy. He just wanted to be included
"How about messages? I'm sure the others could contact you that way" you suggested
"Those smartphones are incredibly delicate. How can humans value such fragile objects? It's beyond hopeless, It's actually starting to irk me."
A sweat drop formed on your forehead "...Fair point"
"I'm sorry, Prefect. I'm sure I've disturbed your night"
"Not at all. You know... it's actually kind of refreshing to see you like this"
He looked at you with visible confusion "Refreshing?"
"Yep" You let out a small snicker "Malleus Draconia, the strongest mage, the future king of Briar Valley, is standing here at Ramshackle ranting about missing Housewarden meetings"
You laughed softly "But don't take offense to that Mal. I'm just... glad you can tell me these things. It's not wrong to complain every now and then, you know. And you can always come to me whether you want to rant, complain or just talk"
He stared at you for a moment before a smile appeared on his face "Thank you, Prefect. I'm grateful to have a friend like you... and that alone is enough for me"
You smiled back. That was right. Malleus simply wanted friends.
But because of his position, he had never truly been able to have them. People feared him. They avoided him.
That couldn't really be helped.
You still remembered the day Lilia thanked you for becoming Malleus's friend and not once had you regretted it.
"Then... if you're free sometime, can I come to Diasomnia and just hang out?"
Malleus blinked before smiling "I would love to spend time with you. You're welcome to visit anytime"
Your face lit up "Then it's a promise!"
"Yes... it's a promise"
Malleus lingered for a moment, his gaze never leaving you. Then, with a gentle voice, he said "It is rather late. You should head back inside and get some rest. I would not wish for you to tire yourself because of me."
You smiled at his quiet concern "I will. Good night, tsunotarou" With a small wave, you headed back inside. "Good night, my friend. May your dreams be peaceful" he replied. As you glanced back one last time, Malleus remained beneath the moonlight before vanishing into a flurry of green specks.
── Ი𐑼
The next day, only one sentence kept repeating itself in your mind.
"I truly wish to take part in those gatherings."
The disappointment in his voice echoed over and over again. You couldn't help but feel sad.
"(name)?"
Someone shook your shoulder, making you flinch. You turned around.
"You've been staring at your food for the past ten minutes. Are you okay?" Deuce asked, concern evident in his eyes.
"Let me guess, you flunked the quiz today, didn't ya?" Ace teased with a smirk while Grim was busy gobbling up his own food.
You rolled your eyes at him.
"Ace!" Deuce hissed "Just kidding." Ace shrugged before taking another bite of his food. "But seriously, what's up with you?"
"Nothing... just thinking" As you answered, your eyes wandered around the cafeteria before stopping on someone who was already leaving
Riddle Rosehearts
The Housewarden of Heartslabyul.
You blinked before a small smile appeared on your face
Standing up, you completely ignored Grim's confused noises and the Adeuce duo calling after you
You hurried after the red-haired housewarden. "Riddle-senpai!"
Riddle turned around and offered you a polite smile. "Hello, (name)" He stopped walking, waiting for you to catch up "What's the matter?"
"U-Um... I just wanted to ask..." You hesitated for a moment "When will your next Housewarden meeting be... and where?"
Riddle raised an eyebrow "What for?"
"It's a secret! But trust me, I don't mean any trouble. Please, Senpai!" You looked at him with pleading eyes.
Riddle studied your expression for a few seconds before letting out a quiet sigh "This Friday, at 10:30 a.m..in the Mirror Chamber"
"Oh? We don't have classes this Friday"
"Correct. That's precisely why we chose that day"
"So... just to confirm, there won't be any changes, right?"
"Yes. The schedule is final, (name)"
Your face immediately brightened. "Thank you so much, Senpai!" You bowed deeply
"You're welcome. Now, finish your lunch and remember Rule 271, one must leave the table within fifteen minutes of finishing their meal”
"Yes, sir.”
── Ი𐑼
Friday — 9:00 A.M
You woke up early and quietly got ready for the day. Grim was still fast asleep, curled up on his bed and snoring without a care in the world
Smiling to yourself, you decided to let him sleep and slipped out of Ramshackle alone
After finally arriving at the school, you immediately made your way to the Hall of Mirrors, which housed seven magical entryways before making your way toward Diasomnia.
As soon as you stepped through the entrance, a breeze greeted you and as you looked ahead, the towering black castle stood proudly before you, its gothic architecture as imposing as ever. It sent a shiver down your spine, not out of fear but admiration. Diasomnia always looked like something out of a fairy tale.
You entered the dorm, your footsteps echoing softly through the quiet halls.
Almost immediately, you were greeted by Silver.
The silver-haired knight looked slightly surprised to see you. Oddly enough, for the first time since you met him, he seemed completely awake "Oh, (name) It's nice to see you here" He smiled gently "I presume you're here to see Malleus-sama?"
"Yep, Silver-senpai!" you answered cheerfully. "I wanted to ask where he is."
"I can call for him if you like"
Silver was about to turn around when you quickly stopped him "Oh, no, it's alright senpai! Aren't you busy?"
Your gaze fell to the sword in his hand and the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, making it clear he had been training
"Are you sure?" Silver asked. "I don't mind postponing my training"
You shook your head. "It's okay, Silver-senpai. Don't worry about me."
He studied your face for a moment before giving a small nod. "If that's the case... Malleus-sama should be relaxing in the lounge"
"Thank you, Senpai!"
"You're welcome."
After exchanging goodbyes, you headed deeper into Diasomnia.
Their dorm was quiet today and as you entered the lounge...
The very first person you saw made you audibly sigh "...Sebek"
The green-haired guard, who is a Malleus fanatic, immediately noticed your presence
His eyes widened.
Without hesitation, you covered both of your ears. "HUMAN (NAME)! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"
His voice boomed throughout the room.
A clap of thunder echoed outside almost perfectly in sync with his shouting.
You waited until he finished before uncovering your ears. "Calm down, Sebek. I just need to tell tsu—I mean Mal something"
"THAT IS 'MALLEUS-SAMA' TO YOU!"
"yes, yes" You waved your hand dismissively. "I need to tell Malleus-sama something"
"UNFORTUNATELY, WAKA-SAMA IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE!"
You narrowed your eyes "...You don't actually know where he is, do you?"
Sebek immediately stiffened. "I-I DO KNOW WHERE HE IS!"
"Oh really?" You folded your arms "Then tell me"
"L-LIKE I SAID, WAKA—"
Before Sebek could finish,
"Sebek"
A calm voice interrupted him.
"Why are you shouting so early in the morning?"
Sebek instantly straightened his posture and turned to face his Waka-sama, inadvertently shielding you from Malleus' view.
"WAKA-SAMA! GOOD MORNING! WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO PREPARE YOUR BREAKFAST?"
"I'm quite alright" Malleus replied as he stepped closer to Sebek before coming to a halt "...But..."
Tilting his head slightly, he peeked around Sebek's shoulder
At the same time, you leaned to the side and gave him a small wave
"Good morning!"
His eyes widened ever so slightly. "(name)?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to hang out with you, remember?"
Sebek practically choked. "...Hang out?"
Before he could begin another lecture, Malleus spoke. "Ah... that's right"
A gentle smile appeared on his face. "Come this way, Prefect"
"Let us enjoy this... 'hangout' as you humans call it" He gestured for you to follow.
You grinned triumphantly before looking back at Sebek.
You couldn't resist giving him a teasing smile.
Judging from the twitch on his forehead...It worked.
Just as Sebek opened his mouth,
"Sebek"
"Please prepare some tea and snacks for the Prefect"
Sebek froze. "...Y-Yes... Waka-sama"
Although his glare practically burned holes into your back, he reluctantly obeyed.
As you went beside Malleus, you smiled warmly "Good morning, Mal."
"Good morning to you as well (name)"
You had every intention of telling him about today's meeting right away... but before you could say a word,
"Would you like to see some of the gargoyles here in Diasomnia?" Malleus asked. He looked... happy
You glanced down at your watch. 9:25 A.M. There was still time. Plenty of it.
Quietly, you set an alarm for 10:15 A.M.
Then you smiled. "Lead the way"
Malleus seemed genuinely pleased by your answer.
As the two of you wandered through Diasomnia together, he enthusiastically pointed out the various gargoyles scattered throughout the dorm
Each one had its own history. Its own craftsmanship. Its own unique charm.
You found yourself smiling more than once, not because of the gargoyles...
But because of how animated Malleus became whenever he spoke about them.
His eyes lit up. His voice carried excitement. It was refreshing to see this side of him.
"Oh, by the way..." you asked "Where's Lilia-senpai?"
"Oh." Malleus answered casually. "He secluded himself earlier. He said he needed to 'grind.'"
"..."
You blinked. He completely forgot about the meeting...
Eventually, the two of you ended up inside Malleus's room.
Tea had already been prepared. Along with a variety of snacks.
Sebek, despite his obvious reluctance, had arranged everything perfectly before silently taking his place outside the room.
The peaceful atmosphere was almost surreal.
You both talked about gargoyles... Books... Magic... The people at school... Your world... Even the strange habits of crows, though it didn't take long for the conversation to drift toward Crowley
Time slipped away far more quickly than either of you realized.
Beep. Beep.
The sound of your alarm broke the peaceful atmosphere.
You pulled out your phone and checked the screen. 10:15 A.M
Malleus glanced at you "...Is it already time for you to leave?" There was a faint trace of disappointment in his voice
You smiled. "Actually...
We need to go, Mal."
"...Me?" He looked genuinely confused
You stood up and brushed the dust from your clothes.
"A Housewarden can't be late to their Housewarden meeting, right?"
Malleus blinked. Once. Twice.
It was obvious he hadn't quite processed your words.
"There's a Housewarden meeting today, 10:30, In the Mirror Chamber"
You stepped closer until you were standing in front of him "So let's go"
"So you won't be late"
Silence settled between the two of you.
"...You..." His voice was unusually quiet
"...You came all the way here...
...just to remind me?"
You nodded without hesitation "Yep"
His brows furrowed slightly "...Why?"
You smiled, your expression as warm as ever "Well..."
"You've helped me countless times...
So I wanted to help you, too
You told me before that you couldn't think of a solution... so..."
A grin spread across your face.
"Then let me be your solution,
I'll remind you of everything,
if no one tells you about the Housewarden meetings or important events...
I'll always be there to tell you.."
Malleus simply stared at you.
Not a single word left his lips.
His eyes quietly searched your face, as though he were trying to memorize every expression you made
Then...
A smile slowly formed on his lips. It was carrying a tenderness that caught you off guard far more than his usual smile ever could
"...(name), thank you"
You rubbed the back of your neck with an embarrassed laugh. "It wasn't a big deal"
"It is to me" he replied without a moment's hesitation.
"You have given me something no one else ever has
I do not believe I shall ever forget that"
Your heart skipped a beat
"N-Now's not really the time to get sentimental"
You let out an awkward laugh and pointed toward the exit.
"We're going to be late"
You reached out, intending to grab his hand and pull him toward the door
Instead, Malleus rose to his feet first
Before you could react, he gently took your hand and his other hand soon came to rest carefully against your waist.
"...Eh? Malleus? Aren't we supposed to be going?"
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"Prefect,
Sometimes you forget..."
"I am a fae"
"Huh?"
"Hold on tightly"
Before you could ask another question,
The world flipped upside down...
A swirl of light enveloped your vision as the scenery around you dissolved into countless green specks.
The air rushed past in an instant.
Then everything became still
When your eyes finally adjusted...
You were already standing directly in front of the Mirror Chamber.
Your knees gave out from the sudden teleportation
"W-Whoa..." You stumbled forward
Before you could lose your balance, Malleus was already there, a steady hand gently supporting your arm
"That...that was terrifying..." you groaned
A quiet laugh escaped him "My apologies Prefect"
"You don't sound sorry at all..."
"I cannot deny that"
You let out a defeated sigh before giving his shoulder a light shove "...Fine"
"It was faster, I'll give you that"
You nodded toward the entrance to the Mirror Chamber
"Now go. Everyone's probably waiting"
But... he didn't move
Instead... he simply looked at you, just like he did earlier, making you flustered
There was something different in his gaze
"...Mal?"
You tilted your head, looking at him with a shy, puzzled expression
Without saying a word, he slowly reached for your hand
His touch was careful, almost hesitant as though asking for permission despite already holding it
Then with all the grace befitting the future king of Briar Valley, he lifted your hand and pressed a featherlight kiss to the back of it
Your breath caught, your face instantly flushed bright red,
"M-Malleus...?"
He lowered your hand only slightly, his fingers still loosely wrapped around yours
"(name)... my Prefect,
I once believed that loneliness was simply something I was destined to endure,
But because of you...
I find myself looking forward to tomorrow"
His thumb absentmindedly brushed across the back of your hand before he finally let go.
"You remember me
You seek me out
You make certain I am never left behind"
A small smile curved across his lips
"It is a kindness I shall always treasure"
Your heart wouldn't stop racing and you could feel the heat spreading across your face. All you could do was pray you didn't look like a tomato in front of him.
Unable to meet his eyes any longer, you awkwardly scratched your cheek.
"You're making it sound way more dramatic than it is. I was just reminding a friend"
Malleus only chuckled. "Even so..
So long as you continue to remember me...
...I believe I shall never truly be alone"
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words refused to come
Malleus seemed to notice. His smile continued to grow before he finally took a small step back
"I shall return once the meeting has concluded"
He offered you another warm smile
"If you would permit it...
I would like to walk you back to Ramshackle"
You smiled despite the warmth spreading across your face.
"I would like that"
The answer seemed to brighten his expression even more.
For a brief moment, neither of you moved. The quiet between you felt comfortable as though neither of you wished to be the first to end the conversation
At last, Malleus gave a small nod
"Then I shall not keep you waiting"
With one last lingering glance, Malleus turned gracefully and entered the Mirror Chamber
You remained where you were for a few seconds, watching the doors close behind him before finally letting out the breath you hadn't realized you were holding. A small smile lingered on your lips as you turned to wait for his return.
── Ი𐑼
This draft has been sitting in my notes for about a month now, it all started when I groovified Malleus's dorm uniform card. The idea suddenly came to me so I decided to write it. I recently found the draft again and thought it would be fun to rewrite and polish it 😭
I hope you enjoy this one-shot! Some of the requests are also being worked on right now, so I'll be posting them sooner or later. Thank you so much !!
Imagine the transfer should have been temporary, that was what Caleb told you six months ago when the reassignment orders first arrived. "Just a different unit." He reassured you softly while standing in your kitchen. "I'll still come home." Home, not your apartment. Home. Because Caleb started calling your place home long before you even got engaged.
Imagine he kept that promised too. No matter how brutal the new schedule became, he still drove back to the city whenever he could. Sometimes arriving past midnight exhuasted out of his mind only to leave again before sunrise. You used to scold him for it constantly. "You need sleep." "I need you more." Ridiculous man. Ridiculously sincere man. That was the problem. Caleb loved you too honestly for this situation to make sense. Which is why the past week had been slowly driving him insane.
Imagine the operation had reached critical stage faster than expected. Months of investigation finally narrowed into something tangible. Dead fleet officers, missing intel, internal corruption, targeted executions disguisedas accidents. At first the unit suspected isolated incidents. Then patterns started emerging. Officers connected to specific classified transport routes kept dying one after another. Some vanished entirely, others were found dead before they could testify. The newest victim finally gave them a lead. A newly married fleet officer murdered in his own home, except his wife survived, barely. She escaped before the shooter fnished clearing the house.
Imagine now she was their only living witness. Which meant she was also a walking target. The problem? The leak was internal. Someone inside the fleet kept feeding information outward. Meaning, nowhere offical was safe. No military housing, no secure holding facilities, no predictable movement. So the witness got moved constantly between trusted personnel, including Caleb.
Imagine he hated it immediately. Not because of the responsibility, but because of you. Because suddenly, the operation stopped being dangerous only for him. Now there was possibility of collateral. And the moment collateral became possible, Caleb's entire perspective changed violently. You became the center of every tactical decision in his head. Could this route expose you? Could this operation lead people toward your apartment? Could someone follow him back home? Could someone use you against him? That last thought alone nearly made him sick.
so Imagine, he started pulling away slightly, not enough for you to notice fully. He tried so hard not to. God, he tried. Because Caleb physically didn't know how to function properly without you anymore. You were woven too deeply into his life, routine, and sanity. After brutal shifts, hearing your voice grunded him. Sleeping beside you kept him human somehow. You were the only place where Colonel Caleb stoppped existing. Where he could just be your fiance instead of someone constantly responsible for life and death.
but Imagine lately, the pressure became unbearable. Every move mattered, every mistake could get people killed. And Caleb was good under pressure, exeptionally good. But not when it involved you. Never you. So yes, he became distaracted. Quieter sometimes, checking his surroundings more often, sleeping lighter, watching doors automatically. You noticed, of course you noticed. You noticed everything about him too. And Caleb hated himself every single time he saw concern flicker across your face before you smiled anyway and kissed him like you trusted him completely. Because you did trust him. That trust became the knife slowly twisting inside his chest all week.
Imagine then tonight happened and everything finally exploded. The witness was sitting quietly in the kitchen when Caleb stepped into the shower. He planned to finished paperwork afterwards then drive back to the city to see you. He missed you so badly it physically ached. The past few days had been hell. He needed you. Needed your voice. Needed your hand in his hair while he pretended the world wasn't collapsing round him. Instead the bathroom door opened and Caleb walked straight into his worst fucking nightmare.
Imagine the way you stood frozen inside his apartment staring at the witness like your entire world had just been ripped out from under you. And fuck, the look on your face. Shock first, then confusion, then heartbreak. Real heartbreak and Caleb felt actual panic slam through him instantly. Not suspicion, not irritation. Panic. Because immediately, he understood exactly what this looked like. The witness was wearing his shirt. Fresh marks still on the witness neck from injuries sustained during the attack days ago. The apartment looked lived in, intimate, domestic. And Caleb himself just walked out looking comfortable as hell inside the environment. Fuck.
"Baby-" Then your expression changed. And Caleb's stomach dropped violently because he recognized it instantly. That look, the moment someone stops feeling safe. You ran. And everything inside him snapped. "Baby!" He sprinted after you immediately, not caring about protocol, not caring about surveillance risks. Because nothing mattered except stopping you before this misunderstanding destroyed everything.
Imagine the apartment hallway blurred around him. Then came a movement, tiny, brief. A red laser dot flickered against the far wall behind you. Gone immediately but Caleb say it. Years of training wired his brain too sharply not to. And suddenly all the blood drained from his body. No. No no no no. They found the apartment. The operation was comprimised. And worst of all, you were here. Exposed, visible, vulnerable. For one horrifying second, Caleb imagined the laser moving slightly upward. Straight to your head. And his chest nearly fucking stopped.
"Baby wait!" You kept running, crying. Completely unaware someone potentially had a scope trained on your body right now. Caleb caught your wrist at the parking lot. Then you hit him, hard. The impact split skin across his cheek instantly. His head snapped across his face. He barely regustered it. Because you looked shattered. And Caleb realized with horrifying clarity, you genuinely thought he betrayed you. "Listen to me." He said immediately, breathing hard. "That's not what it looked like." "Then what is it?" He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Because his brain was screaming too many things at once.
Imagine there was the witness, the leak, the fucking laser. Get her out of here. Protect her. Then your voice cracked. "What is it, Caleb?" God, you looked desperate. Not angry yet, just desperate. Like you were begging him to give you something, anything, that would make this make sense. And that almost destroyed him more than the slap because even now, you still wanted to believe him. You still trsuted him enough to ask explanation instead of immediately condeming him. That trsut fucking wrecked him. Because he loved you. Loved you so much it bordered on insanity sometimes.
and Imagine now he was standing here watching that love get twisted into pain because of a mission he couddn't explain. "Tell me." He looked at your face. Then beyond you. The laser flickered briefly again against your car window. Cold rage exploded through him instantly. They were sending a message. Talk. Talk and she dies first. Caleb understood that perfectly. And suddenly, something terrifying woke up inside him. Not fear but murderous rage. Because these people weren't just threatening him anymore. They were threatening you. Using you. Cornering him into hurting you himself.
"Tell me!" You begged now, tears falling harder. "Because right now it looked like you've been lying to my face for weeks hiding another woman in your apartment." Every word hit like a bullet. Because on your perspective? You were right. You had every right to think that. And Caleb hated himself for putting you in this position. "It's not like that." "Then explain it!" "I can't." The second those words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Imagine the way your face collapsed completely. Not dramatic, not explosive, worse. It was quiet devastation. Like your heart physically cracked open in front of him and fuck. Caleb would rather take a bullet. 'I can't' sounded guilty, cowardly, suspicious. He knew that. But what was he supposed to do? Tell you there were armed eyes watching right now? Tell you people died over less information than this? Tell you your life had potentially become collateral damage the second you walked into that apartment? He coudn't risk it. Not with you. Never with you.
Imagine then your voice dropped smaller. "You're hurting me." And there it was, the thing tat finally broke him. Because you weren't screaming. You weren't insulting him. You just sounded hurt, disappointed, heartbroken. Like you couldn't understand why the man who loved you most was suddenly becoming the source of your pain. Caleb's grip loosened slightly around your wrist. His breathing became uneven. Because he knew. God, he knew he was hurting you and worse, he was doing it knowingly. Chosing silence while watching tears run down your face because the alternative could get you killed.
"Please." You whispered desperately. "Just tell me the truth." He wanted to. Fuck, he wanted to so badly. Wanted to grab your face and explain everything. Wanted to beg you not to leave him. Wanted to promise this wasn't betrayal. But then the laser appeared again brieflt against the concrete, then to your forehead. And Caleb saw red. Actual red. Something violent surged through him so fast his vision sharpened dangerously. Someone was aiming at you. At you. And suddenly every protective instinct inside him turned monstrous.
"I can't." He repeated hoarsely. You went still, then slowly... You pulled off your enngagement ring. The world stopped. No. No no no. Not that. Anything but that. Caleb genuinely panicked. Real panic. "No- baby, please-" "What am I supposed to do?!" You asked shakily. "Stand there pretending I didn't see another woman wearing your clothes?" He couldn't tell you anything, and that helplessness made rage build hotter inside him. Not at you. Never at you. At the situation, at the operation, at whoever forced him into this impossible corner, at the bastards watching from the shadows while the woman he loved cried in front of him because of their fucking mess. You shoved the ring into his chest. "Get out of my way."
Imagine he stared at the ring in his palm. Your ring. The one he spent months secretly carrying around before proposing because he wanted the perfect moment. The one you cried over while saying yes. Now it's sitting cold and unwated in his hand. Something inside Caleb cracked violently, but he stepped aside anyway. Because keeping you near him tonight suddenly felt more dangerous than losing you. And God, that realization nearly killed him. So he watched you get into the car. Watched your hands shake against the steering wheel. Watched you avoid looking at him directly because if you did, maybe you'd break harder.
Imagine Caleb stood there bleeding from the cheek, engagement ring clenched painfully tight in his fist, feeling completely fucking helpless. You looked at him once before driving away. And the devastation in your eyes would haunt him forever. Because despite everthing, you still loved him. He could see it. Which somehow made this infinitely crueler.
Imagine the second your car disappeared, Caleb snapped, completely. He stormed back upstairs so fast the witness physically recoiled when he entered. "She okay?" She asked quietly. Caleb ignored her and grabbed his phone immediately. The moment the line connected, his voice turned terrifying calm. "We've been compromised." Silence, then movement. "I want every surveillance team active now." "Sir?" "There was a fucking laser sight pointed at my fiancee." The room went dead silent. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Caleb paced violently through the apartment. Every emotion inside him mutating into something colder, meaner, more dangerous.
"Get covert protection on her immediately. Twenty four hour surveillance." He was silent for a moment. "My family too. I want every possible tail identified before sunrise." "Sir we still need authorization-" "Then authorize it." Caleb snapped viciously. Nobdy argued after that tone. Colonel Caleb angry was dangerous. Colonel Caleb angry over you was catastrophic. "They touched the wrong fucking person." He said coldly. The witness stared silently from the kitchen while listening to the conversation. And honestly? She looked scared of him now. Good. Because Caleb himself felt terrifying right now. Not because he lost control but because he still had it.
Imagine every ounce of rage insdie him became focused, precise, lethal. He wanted names, faces, bodies. He wanted everyone involved in this operation dragged into the light personally. No more patience, no more careful politics. These people made you cry. Made you take off your engagement ring. Made you look at him like he betrayed you. For that alone, Caleb wanted them ruined.
Imagine that night, long after orders were issued and surveillance confirmed you reached home safely, Caleb sat alone on the edge of his bed staring at his phone. The apartment felt unbearably empty now. Tiny traces of you everywhere. And now, he didn't know if he lost you forever. The engagement ring sat beside him. Caleb kept staring at it like maybe if he looked hard enough, tonight would undo itself somehow. His cheek stung where you slapped him. He welcomed the pain. He deserved worse. Slowly, Caleb unlocked his phone.
You: I love you. seen
You: Please trust me. seen
then Imagine, it took him a few more seconds and one message for the message to failed and realized you had blocked him. And for a several seconds, he just stared blankly at the screen. Then he laughed, one horrible breathless laugh. Because of course you blocked him. Of course you did. And somehow the reality of it finally crushed him completely. You, his fiancee thought he betrayed you. The woman he planned his entire future around. The woman he wanted children with. The woman he loved so much it scared him sometimes. And now, you were gone. All because he couldn't protect both the mission and your heart at the same time.
Imagine the way the laugh broke midway. Then Caleb lowered his head into his hands and finally cried. Quietly, violently, completely alone. Because there is nothing could do right now except finish this opertion. But afterwards? Afterwards he was getting you back. Even if it destroyed his pride entirely.
Imagine he would kneel, he would beg, he would crawl if he has to, and he would explain everything. Spend years rebuilding your trust if necessary. Because Caleb knew one terrifying truth with complete certainty now. He woud survive gunfire, war, blood, death. But losing you? That would be the thing that finally fucking killed him.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2026°
: if I have typos, just think I can't spell. Cuz maybe i really cant XD
Tags kasi decisions ako sa life: @moltensceptergambit @scoupshushushu @ceceoboro @younghideoutberserker @sleepykittyenergy @spiceandsass @younbeanz @multi-fandom-fanfic ;p
a bit nervous, considering i’ve never sent an ask here before…if you’re comfortable with it, can you do a popular gyaruo reader x an emo loser who tutors the reader? theyre good friends, they’ve been friends for years. and like, theyre studying in the emo’s bedroom, when he leaves to go to the bathroom and m/n somehow comes across the emo’s notes on how much he’s obsessed with the reader and wants to feminize and dumbify him and freak shit like that. then emo comes back and gets mad at him for snooping thru his shit, and then they have sex!!
but if you don’t want to do it, just ignore this ask lol!! no need to do it if you don’t want to!!
ఌ 𝐄𝐌𝐎
w.c › 6.7k
warnings › bottom male reader. OC.
kinks › lite feminization, manhandling, dumbification, degradation, dubcon
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
“You and Matsuda-San are friends?”
That was how everyone, no matter their age, would react when you brought up Matsuda Kota casually in conversation. You were quite the persona since middle school. Going against the dress code to fit your gyaruo style. Kota, however, was quiet.
Some labeled him an ‘emo’ but he just had long black hair and mostly wore black clothing. At least that’s what he would say. His hair was so long that his bangs regularly covered his face.
You wore black clothing too—but they were often paired with bold pieces. You wore black eyeliner to make your eyes pop. It was only in university when you were able to go full out in being a gyaruo—a male version of a gyaru. Though you were on the more simple side of the aesthetic.
The full makeup and outfit took so much effort that you only did it on rare occasions. Or whenever you were in the mood to sit in front of a mirror for over an hour.
Your parents were lacking in the usual strictness that older Japanese people were known for. So you basically wild out—a stark contract to Kota whose parents were so overly strict it was concerning.
That’s probably why he spent most of his time over at your house. The two of you met in middle school. By pure accident.
You were sent to your homeroom teacher’s office for being caught with eyeliner. After a stern talking to and being shoved outside of the room with some wet wipes—you were too busy wiping your eyes to notice Kota standing in front of you.
It was only in middle school that you were taller than him. You bumped right into him, causing him to crash to the ground. His bento box spilling all over the floor.
“Woah! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You kneeled down and carelessly began scooping up the food with your bare hands, dumping them into the bento box. “Five second—”
“I’m not eating that.” Kota rudely interrupted you.
You blinked, finally glancing up to look at him. He had an ugly bowl cut and thick rimmed glasses that looked too big for his face.
“Pfft—!”
Your lips clamped shut as you quickly covered your mouth. Eyes wide while Kota’s narrowed.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing. You look ridiculous too.”
Kota huffed. He roughly grabbed his bento box from your hand and walked away. You stood up and looked to your left, seeing your reflection in the window.
He was right.
The makeup was all smudge—giving you perfect raccoon eyes. A laugh left your lips. It was honestly a look. You rushed after Kota and wrapped your arm around his neck. He grunted and tried to push you off but you used your height to rest your chin on his head.
“Since we both look ridiculous, we should hang out!”
Kota groaned. “What are you—?”
“My name is Togami (Name). But you can call me (Name), no one calls me Togami.”
“We just met, why—”
“Because it’s sooo boring. My name is so much better than Togami. Don’t you agree?”
“Well—”
“Anyway, what’s your name?”
“Matsuda Kota, why—”
“Can I call you Kota?”
“Are you going to keep interrupting me??” Kota yelled out, stopping you both in your tracks. You stared down at him before grinning slyly.
“Sorry, Kota-kun~ keep talking, keep talking. I think I really like you!”
“I didn’t give you permission—”
“Lunch’s almost over! Hurry, we don’t want to be late for class!”
“I said stop interrupting me!”
The rest was history. Which led to where you are now. University. You were able to dress up more and didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble with teachers for a little bit of eyeliner.
You and Kota decided to rent an apartment together. With your parents' help mostly. They were retired and had a decent amount of savings. Kota paid for everything else that your parents didn’t cover. You were just there to decorate the apartment.
Kota really didn’t care about that type of stuff. His bedroom was bare. Really bare. It looked exactly how it looked before you both moved in. The decoration he had in there was from you. Though he rarely allowed you in his room.
The apartment was covered in a lot of furry furniture. Black, brown, and gold. Leopard print… it was a mess but also somehow worked for the chaotic vibe you were going for. Your bedroom was the only real mess.
In any case, you and Kota lived together fairly well. Despite everyone being shocked that the two of you were even friends. You were outgoing and nice–Kota was quiet and a little bit rude. Everyone called you by your first name… no one but you could call Kota by his first name.
It actually got you into hot water once with Kota.
“You can call me (Name), I don’t mind!” You proudly said, grinning at your clubmate. You and Kota joined the photography club to kill some time. The club was meeting at a restaurant as a way to get to know everyone.
Everyone said their introduction. Kota’s was as bland as ever while you were practically bursting with excitement. You were sitting beside some guy–you couldn’t remember his name–and was telling him that he didn’t have to be formal with you.
A loud clink of glass hitting the table startled everyone even with the bustling sounds of people excitedly chatting. Eyes were all on Kota. His beer glass had a small crack on the bottom, the yellow beer slowly seeping free all over the table. He calmly grabbed some napkins and dabbed at the liquid.
“Uh, waiter!” The club leader waved someone down and pointed to the pointed glass.
You only watched Kota, blinking as he seemed to not even react to anything. Not when the waiter carefully took away the glass. Not as a few other clubmates wiped away the mess. Not when a new beer glass was placed in front of Kota.
Kota only grabbed a skewer of meat from the shared plate in the center of the table. He took a small bite, his gaze not even flickering over to you. It took a minute before everyone began to talk like normally, as if nothing happened.
As soon as the club leader had mentioned that everyone should start heading home–you were roughly grabbed by the arm and tugged to stand up. Everyone watched in silence as Kota grabbed your coat and backpack without a word.
He draped your coat around your body, buttoning it without allowing you to properly put it on. Your arms were restricted but he didn’t seem to care. Kota nodded his head at everyone, wrapping an arm around your waist and guided you outside.
“Kota. Kota, I can’t move my arms,” you tried to push your arms through the sleeves but Kota kept pulling you forward. His hand tightening his grip on the curve of your hip. “Kota!”
He hummed. “Does everyone need to call you by your first name?” His words suddenly stop you in your tracks. It was only now that he actually stopped as well. You both were far from the restaurant by now.
“I let everyone do that.” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
“Where… is this coming from?”
Kota looked you in the eye. There looked to be something there… the need to say something. Something that could possibly change things. But he only shook his head.
“Forget it.” He removed his hand from your waist, finally allowing you to properly wear your coat. You follow behind him as you slip the coat into place. His words swirled around in your head but you didn’t say anything.
You still allowed people to call you by your first name. At least the people you had already allowed to but for some reason, anyone new had to call you by your last name.
Nothing was said. It just happened.
But you couldn’t forget the one time Kota had overheard you introducing yourself to a new member of the photography club.
“Hi, I’m Togami (Name). You can call me Togami or Toga!” You said, smiling wide as you excitedly shook their hand. Your gaze flickered to Kota who was standing right beside you and his expression was pure smug.
A small smirk tugged on his lips. Big enough that even another member noticed and asked Kota what he was thinking about to smile like that.
Kota only hummed. “Nothing.”
That was really the only time Kota had ever been mean towards you. Or at least angry. Afterwards he didn’t use any force on you again. Which really made you wonder what upset him that badly.
But you never brought it up again.
“If you want at least a B, you’ll need to get an 80% on the final exam, Togami-San.”
You groaned, rubbing at your face. Your grades in college were decent. Could be better but decent. Your parents were just happy you weren’t flunking. The fact you even went to college surprised them and your entire family.
It wasn’t like you didn’t care but you didn’t go above and beyond like others. You studied like twice a week. Each time before an exam you studied a bit and somehow that allowed you to continuously get Bs and A minuses.
Good enough. Some would kill for that.
However your studying method was proving to be useless for one class. The one class where you had your first ever D.
Organic chemistry.
Now why are you taking organic chemistry?
Well because you’re dumb.
Dumb enough to not realize that you signed up for the wrong class until it was too late and you had to continue taking it. You were a literature major! Why would you ever need organic chemistry?
“It’s okay, (Name)-Chan~” Hinata, your classmate, gave you a wide grin. “Maybe you should do tutoring.”
“Tutoring?” Another one of your classmates chirped in, Genki. He was a fellow gyaruo who put more effort into everyday makeup in comparison to you. A true legend. “What (Name) needs is a miracle.”
Hinata rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it worse. You’ll stress him out. I know someone who took organic chemistry as a freshman and actually passed with a 99%!”
“99%? Woah,” Genki’s mouth dropped while you perked up at her claim. “How—? That professor is strict. How'd that kid pass?”
“Don’t know but he was even the teacher assistant last year. He’s good, really good. But he doesn’t just tutor anyone.” Hinata turned her gaze over to you. “You might have to really beg for it.”
You frowned, “beg…? Ah, it can’t be helped. I’m not failing that final exam!” There was no way you’d let this class ruin your semi perfect record of As and Bs. “Where can I find him?”
“He’s an engineering major! My friend said he’s currently a teacher assistant for engineering 101, class should be ending right now. Go stop him before he leaves!”
The thought of having to beg some stranger to hopefully pass your class was a little stressful. Technically your whole life was up to this one dude.
And judging by how Hinata had described him—he wasn’t exactly the helping type.
He already reminded you of Kota.
Ah, Kota.
A giddy smile pulled on your lips at the thought of him. It’s already been three years of living with him and you had begun to realize you had a crush on him. Nothing serious at the moment but it certainly was something.
You found yourself doing more things for him. Making him lunch or dinner. He wasn’t a breakfast person so you never forced that. Two days ago you even bought him a leather jacket that reminded you of him. Though you still haven’t given it to him yet.
You’ve given him things before. Especially not an expensive leather jacket. It was around ¥291,500. Nothing cheap at all. But it was real leather with fluffy fur around the collar.
Perfect for winter that was right around the corner.
Thinking about Kota, you began wondering what you should make him for dinner. You stood outside the classroom door just as students began to walk out.
“(Name).”
“Kota?” You blinked, looking over to see Kota standing right beside you. Your head tilted as you blinked. “You’re taking this class as a junior?”
Kota fixed the strap of his bag as he raised an eyebrow. “I’m the teaching assistant.”
“Ah!”
Well looks like luck was on your side after all.
You grinned and rushed to his side, grasping his arm with your hands. “Kotaaaa~”
Kota only hummed and looked down at you. The height difference wasn’t by much. Your head was the perfect height to rest on his shoulders—which you constantly took advantage of.
“Can you tutor me? In organic chemistry? I heard you passed the class and I need to get an 80% on the final exam to even pass the class. Please, please, please—”
“Sure.” He interrupted you.
You blinked.
That was really easy.
Well, getting him to tutor you was easy but he wasn’t an easy tutor at all.
“If you can’t even memorize this then don’t even bother showing up to take the exam.”
“Kotaaaa.”
“Try again.”
It had only been a week and you were pooped. Kota didn’t let up. Each day after dinner, you’d spend almost two hours sitting at the dining table as he tutored you. No breaks, no days off.
And yes you were certainly learning and retaining information… but you were also tired.
“67%,” he said, placing the mock final exam he made you take on the table after grading it. Despite his rough tone—you knew he was semi happy about your progress in just one week. “I’ll test you again next week.”
You sighed. Better than nothing. You used to get 20-30% on the exams. This was an improvement.
Kota cleaned up the dining table while you placed your head on the table. You were only going to close your eyes for a second. But soon you found yourself in bed. Hands tugging up your shirt.
“Kota?” You groggily whined, placing your hand over his. His hand was larger than yours. He stopped what he was doing and leaned away a bit.
“You’re awake?” He asked. You felt his hand slipping away but you quickly tightened your grip. With sluggish movements, you tugged his hand up, making him gently cup your face.
He didn’t stop you nor did he say anything. If you weren’t struggling to even stay awake, you would’ve noticed his thumb gently rubbing circles on your cheek.
“I got something for you.” You whispered.
“Like what? Is it a thanks for tutoring you?”
You weakly shook your head. “No. It’s…” your voice trailed off, eyes struggling to stay open. “It’s just for you. Because I like you. It’s underneath my bed.”
“Don’t fall asleep.” He gently tapped your cheek. “You still have makeup on.”
“I like you… didn’t you hear me?”
“Mhm.” Was all he said in response.
The rest of that moment was a blur. You remembered feeling makeup remover wipes on your face. Kota grabbed the box from underneath your bed but he didn’t open it in front of you. Your eyes were basically closed by then.
He whispered something and then you were fast asleep.
Another two weeks passed. It was uneventful. Kota continued tutoring you and you made significant progress. Your little puppy crush was beginning to grow by the minute. Especially now that you two were spending most nights together.
You didn’t have to ask about the jacket because not even a day later you saw him wearing it. It made you so giddy that you almost laughed right in front of Kota. Luckily you managed to hold it in.
Despite organic chemistry being the worst class you’ve ever taken—you certainly had to thank it for allowing you the opportunity to be near Kota for such long hours.
However there was something you began to notice.
Kota didn’t allow you in his bedroom.
At first you didn’t notice because well it’s not like he comes into yours. You both were close but still wanted the bedrooms to be your own personal space. But now that you two were studying together for a long period of time… you and Kota would sometimes study in your bedroom.
It was a mess, obviously, but Kota didn’t seem to mind.
But it was like his room was off limits before you could ever ask.
Nothing was wrong with that per se… at least at first. Until you finally realize it when Kota always keeps his door locked. The door was always closed and even locked sometimes.
That’s strange, right?
Was he hiding something?
What would someone like Kota have to hide? He’s such a normal guy at the end of the day. You were the one that had more to hide but your day was basically left wide open at all times. Even when you were changing.
Like right now.
You slipped on your boxers, yawning. The thought of looking for some pajamas felt like a hassle. Your body was tired and even struggling to stand up straight.
“Where did I put it…” you whispered mostly to yourself, rubbing your shirtless chest. It was certainly a sight to behold. Your makeup was only semi cleaned off, your eyeliner was being stubborn and your lips were stained from left over lipstick. It’s kind of why you never wear lipstick that often.
It always stained your lips.
Just like your clothes, your pajamas were also heavily influenced by gyaruo clothing. You even dabbled a bit in more feminine pajamas. Simply only because male pajamas were boring half the time.
You knelt down and grabbed your silk shirt. It was plain black but felt nice to sleep in. “Pants… where’s my pants?” You spun around, now facing the doorway when you finally noticed that you weren’t alone.
Kota was watching.
He looked like he had just finished taking a shower. Hair still damped while the towel laid around his neck. An old beaten up white t-shirt and black sweatpants. His bangs covered his right eye entirely.
You gulped. Your own semi nudity was the last thing on your mind. Just the fact of seeing Kota in clothes that didn’t cover his body entirely. Nothing baggy that hid his muscles. You were allowed to see everything.
Almost everything.
Your bottom lip caught between your teeth. You didn’t even realize just how bad you were ogling him. Though it seemed to be mutual when you glanced up at his face.
Kota was staring at you. Really staring at you. His gaze flickering from your thighs to your chest. You still hadn’t slipped the shirt on yet.
Feeling yourself heat up from his strong gaze, you slipped the silk shirt on. That finally broke the spell as Kota quickly looked away. He began quickly drying his hair.
You finally found your pants, right near your dirty hamper. They were actually shorts. A matching pair to the shirt. You stepped into them and it was basically the same length as your tight boxers. These were one of your more feminine pajamas.
“Well,” you spoke, blinking slightly as you glanced over at Kota. “Uhh,” your lips pursed together. Hands wringing together. “Can I ask you something, Kota?”
He hummed. His eyes still focusing on anything but you.
“Can we… maybe study in your room one day?”
That caught his attention. His eyes snapping over to you. “Why?”
You froze. This was probably one of the first times Kota ever pushed back against a request of yours. Usually you could just say one word and he’d do it without hesitation. Not even asking why you want to do a certain thing.
It wasn’t always like that—that behavior didn’t start until high school.
“Oh well…” your voice trailed off. There was technically no reason. Or really any good reason. “Uhm, I just… want to change the environment.”
“We can study at the library.”
“Kota.” A pout on your lips. “I don’t wanna. I like being at home.”
“Then we can study on the balcony.”
That did sound nice.
You sighed. “Then… if I pass with an 89% can I celebrate in your bedroom?”
Kota raised an eyebrow. His face was neutral but you could tell he was getting agitated. The slight twitch in his upper lip, the way his grip tightened on the towel. “89%? That’s high.”
“Yeah, so if I do that good, then you have to grant my wish.”
“Why do you want to do that? Be in my room so badly?”
You were nosy, that was certainly the main reason.
But instead of saying that…
You said, “because I want to be in your scent.”
Which, in hindsight, was one of the stupidest things you had ever said.
I want to be in your scent? What did that even mean?
It was one of the strangest things you’ve ever said. And you were known for being weird to Kota.
Oh well—you couldn’t dwell on it too much because to your shock, you did it.
“How??” Hinata and Genki stared at the final exam paper in shock. There, written in bright red ink, was the percentage 90. You had done better than you had even thought was possible.
You simply smirked. “I managed to get that tutor you told me about.” Was all you said before heading straight home.
Kota was home, luckily enough. You had bought some take out and a case of beer. A smug smile on your lips as you walked over to where he was sitting on the couch.
He closed his book as soon as he saw you. His gaze solely focused on you. Your cheeks felt a little hot from his gaze but you straightened your posture. You placed the food and drinks on the center table.
“I took the exam.” You reached into your bag, excitedly pulling the exam paper out. The paper was folded as you handed it over to him. He took it, you excitedly sat down beside him and inched close, wanting to see his exact expression once he saw your score.
Kota opened the paper and despite the fact his face didn’t move an inch, you could tell he was proud. “Amazing.” He simply said, placing the paper on the center table. “How do you want to celebrate?”
You pursed your lips, eyes looking to where Kota’s bedroom was located. There was nothing else that needed to be said. Kota got the hint immediately.
Kota’s bedroom was the exact same as you remembered. The last time you had seen it in its full glory was maybe a month after you both moved in. To say it had no personality was an understatement.
It didn’t feel lived in if it weren’t for his studying material all over his desk. You plopped down on his bed as he sat at his desk, placing the items you brought on the surface. He glanced over at you with an unamused expression.
“This is all you wanted to see?”
You eagerly nodded your head. “Well yes.”
“You’re weird.” He opened a bottle of beer with a bottle opener. “Enjoy my scent.”
Your cheeks felt hot.
Kota’s room really was uneventful. He didn’t even have a tv. You stuck to watching something on your phone. About an hour or two passed when Kota excused himself to the bathroom.
You only huffed and moved to rest more comfortably on the bed when you felt something poke your back. It felt like a notebook. Underneath his pillow was a small little notebook—a diary was your first thought.
Now, did you originally plan to snoop around Kota’s room? No, you did not.
But now that you had the opportunity to possibly read his diary were you going to miss it?
No.
While you might be able to understand Kota’s expressions after spending so many years with him—it was too tempting to be able to read about his thoughts.
Who was he talking about? Jealousy bubbled deep within you. Who was lucky enough to be the object of Kota’s affection? It wasn’t like he talked to many people that weren’t you.
You gasped as the diary was roughly ripped from your hands. It was there you came face to face with an overly pissed Kota. A first. The last time you ever saw Kota this angry, his face actually showing the full emotion, was back in middle school.
Your stomach began to twist into knots. The idea of angering Kota this much hadn’t even crushed your mind. Sure you were pushy sometimes but you never wanted to ever make him feel this way.
It was silent. Your mind raced a mile a minute. But nothing left your lips.
Kota let out a humorless laugh. Another first. He stared down at you. “Are you weirded out?”
“Huh?” A soft gasp left your lips. Your eyes flickering up to stare at him. He towered over you. You sat on your knees on the bed.
He waved the diary. “You read what was in this.” His voice sharp. “You’re weirded out, right? You want me to leave don’t you?”
“Why—? Why would I want that?” You quickly moved to stand up but Kota grabbed your shoulder and shoved you back down. It should’ve upset you that he put his hands on you but you felt your cock twitch in your pants.
“Stop acting dumb.” He carelessly tossed the diary behind him. His eyes never left you. The intensity in his eyes scared you but also made you incredibly horny. Who knew he could act like this? “You read it, you saw what I wanted to do. Degrade, feminize, and dumbify—you saw it, didn’t you? Don’t spare my feelings.”
You quickly shook your head. “I wouldn’t… I wouldn't judge what you… do in your free time.”
Kota froze. He raised an eyebrow before leaning further down. You leaned back until your back bumped into the wall, effectively caging you in.
Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it. You clamped your legs together. Why was this actually doing something for you?
“How did you get that 90% on the exam?” He finally spoke.
“Huh?”
“You. I want to degrade you.” His hands pressed on either side of the wall, gaze harsh. “I want to make you pretty, only to ruin you for anyone else. Who else would I ever want to see naked beneath me?”
“…huh…? Kota…?”
Kota sighed. “I’ll move out as soon as possible.” Was all he said as he began to pull away.
“Wait—!” You grabbed his shirt and tugged him back towards you. The force causing him to accidentally bump his nose against yours. “Ow,” a whine left your lips but you quickly pushed through the pain. “Why… why are you going to leave me?”
“Did you not understand a word that I said?” Kota responded, his tone exasperated.
“I did. I did and I don’t mind. I like you! Didn’t you know that? I told you…”
Kota tilted his head. His gaze focused solely on you. “You always tell me that you like me. Was I supposed to believe that one time was different?”
You frowned. “Well I did mean it differently. I meant that I like like you.”
“You like like me?”
“Mhm.”
Kota laughed. You were seeing a whole new side to him. “Do you like me enough to let me do whatever I want to you?” He asked, his voice deep. There were simple words but somehow they felt heavy in your chest. It didn’t feel like it was a simple easy thing to agree to.
He seemed mad but not that mad that you thought he would’ve been. It felt different. A scary different. But not scary enough that you didn’t nod your head in agreement to his words.
“I need to hear a yes.” He said.
“…Yes.” You whispered. “I really like you.”
For the first time ever, Kota’s lips pulled into a wide smirk.
Your cock twitched at the sight.
You would’ve never expected that Kota would be the kinky type. Honestly you ever really expected that he’d be into sex… or anyone really. He didn’t seem like the type. It’s why you didn’t expect anything to happen from your feelings.
But here you were, hands tied together above your head with Kota’s belt. Undressed—your boxers being the only clothes you were allowed left.
Kota didn’t say anything at first. He had silently tied your wrists together, manhandling you to rest on the bed. His hands gripped your skin. It felt harsh and rough but it didn’t scare you.
“Kota…” You whispered.
He was silently taking in your body. His hand slowly tracing up and down. As his hand reached your inner thigh—you let out a gasp. Your legs clamped together as your cheeks heat up and feel hot to the touch.
“Kota… are you mad?”
“No,” he answered. His hand squeezed your thigh before he reached his other hand and grasped your other leg. He easily parted your legs open, it happened so fast you didn’t even register it until your legs touched the bed.
Kota sighed. His gaze flickered up to look you in the eye. “I’m not going to do everything I ever wanted.” He said. That somehow disappointed you. “I don’t want to rush this… not now.”
“Rush?”
“(Name),” he whispered your name as if he was worshipping you like a God. So soft and tender though his eyes held a certain hunger that made your stomach clench. “I’ve always wanted you to cry on my cock—letting your makeup mess up your face.”
“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. “Is that why whenever you saw me with my makeup a mess, you’d get quiet?”
Kota didn’t respond. He moved to sit between your legs. “When we moved in together, I thought I’d have to deal with you bringing in random people to have sex… or maybe even get a boyfriend. How lucky am I that you aren’t able to date anyone?”
“Hey, I was single on purpose!”
“Sure.”
You frowned but before you could say anything else Kota pushed your legs forward. A strained grunt left your lips. The stretch was a little unnatural—not a position you’ve ever done before.
“Since it’s our first time, I’ll be nice. Okay?”
“You’re a virgin?” You muttered, blinking slightly.
“Aren’t you?”
“Ah,” you quickly looked away, biting your bottom lip. “Not… exactly.”
It was silent.
Too silent.
“Kota…?”
The sound of fabric tearing caused you to cry out in shock. You looked over to see Kota focused solely on your legs. Your boxers were torn open, the cool air teasing your hole. Embarrassment shot through your body when you realized Kota would have a perfect view of a certain something in your ass.
Finally, your little secret was revealed.
“(Name)…” Kota chuckled, his voice deep. His index finger circled around your sensitive rim. Your body shook from the touch. “Is this a butt plug?”
So, it wasn’t as if you expected sex today. You had just wanted to be a little… adventurous today. After your exam you had actually come home first before going back out to buy the food and beer. Just for fun.
It was a small plug. Only stretched you a little bit to where you could feel it if you shifted just right. But other than that it didn’t feel like anything was inside you.
Really the only thing you expected tonight was using your dildo late at night as you imagined Kota fucking you instead. Luck was really on your side today.
“Did you wear this all day? Even when you took your exam?” Kota grasped the edge of the plug, slowly tugging it out. You gasped—tugging at the restraints around your wrists. “Did you masturbate like a pervert, hoping no one would notice you rocking in the chair, trying to focus on the exam while making sure the plug hit your prostate?”
With a simple shift, the tip of the plug pressed directly on your prostate. A loud moan left your throat. You wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That he was making stuff up. Degrading you.
But the continuous, slow rub against your prostate took over your thoughts. All you could focus on was gasping and moaning in response. Nothing else could escape your lips. Your cock twitched. It was still covered inside your tight boxers.
“Kota,” you mewled.
“Such a slut. Is that why you’re so flashy?” He asked, pressing down on your prostate. “You want everyone’s attention on you. Not just your looks but also from your sex appeal? So perverted, Togami (Name).”
You sniffled. Your wrists tried to break free from the belt but somehow it was wrapped tightly. You could only bring your hands down to try and cover your face from Kota’s intense stare.
“Am I not enough?” Kota moved up, his body now towering over you. His free hand grasped your wrists and tugged your arms to rest above your head once more. “Do you need everyone else’s attention? I’m not enough for you?”
You quickly shook your head. The words escaped you—only broken wet moans leaving your parted lips.
“Fine.” An almost pained laugh left Kota. “They can look…” he leaned down, his breath teasing your face. “But you’ll always be mine. Only I can see you, touch you, and ruin you, do you understand?”
Kota pulled back when you didn’t respond. His glare sharp as he roughly pulled the butt plug out. He tossed it behind himself. “Answer me with words.”
“Mhm, ngh,” you nodded your head. It was hard to speak, your throat was already dry. You haven’t even been fucked yet and you already felt tired. “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
You let out a shuddered moan. Your legs wrapping around Kota’s waist. It felt so sinful for you to be practically nude while Kota was still dressed. He was wearing a black sweater and black pants—his usual winter clothing.
“You’re perfect for me, (Name)… I don’t even need to prepare you.” Kota unbuttoned his pants. His gaze focused solely on you. “I won’t be nice. I’m going to fuck you and if you manage to cum, good. If not…” his voice trailed off.
The thought that he wasn’t even going to try and make sure you would come too. To just use you for his own pleasure… made your whole body shiver.
Shit, you were really learning new things about yourself.
Kota was never known for being particularly nice. Sure he did nice things for you but that never meant he wasn’t a little rude to you still. Even if you were his favorite person. He had no issue degrading you. And it was shocking to yourself that you didn’t mind it at all.
He didn’t fuck you nice and slow. He didn’t slowly ease inside you or anything like that. Your hole was still dripping from the lube and allowed for a semi easy entrance. Though his cock was bigger than your small butt plug.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The stretch felt otherworldly. Kota grasped your face, pushing your head down into the pillow as he began thrusting in an easy rhythm.
The slap of skin filled the room. Your gasps and moans came out in rough staccato. Toes curling as you bite your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.
“K-Kota…” you cried out.
Kota pushed your head further into the pillow as his thrusts began to pick up speed. He was unforgiving—obviously chasing his own orgasm. True to his words he didn’t aim for your prostate nor did he touch your cock.
He was fucking you got his own pleasure.
“Mhm?” He grunted out. His thumb brushing against your lips, pushing them apart. “Does it feel good? Are you enjoying yourself?”
Each thrust sent a shock throughout your body. The sound of skin slapping, bed creaking from each thrust into your tight heat. It was sending you into a frenzy. You could’ve sworn that he was purposely avoiding your prostate. Just barely teasing it to cause a shiver in your body before ignoring it once more.
It was degrading. He was treating you like a toy.
You smiled slightly, eyes glancing up at Kota. He was a sight to behold. His eyes almost fully covered from his long bangs. He was sweating but still hadn’t made the effort to take off his sweater.
The jeans rubbed against your ass, chafing the skin. You’d certainly cry about it later but now it only served to make you moan. Every little thing he did that only served to please himself and not you… made your toes curl.
“Hey,” Kota cut in. “I asked if you’re enjoying it?” His voice deep and held an air of dominance.
A strained laugh left you, punched out in tandem with a particularly harsh thrust that almost sent you hitting the headboard. Your bottom lip was cut. A little bit of blood coated both lips and some on your teeth.
“Yeah,” you breathed out. Your eyes struggled to stay open, fingers curling to grip the pillow beneath you for a sense of purchase. “Love it so much.” An almost exasperated laugh left you.
Kota’s thrusts slowed down. His grip on your face almost loosened. He certainly didn’t expect such an answer from you. The willingness to accept his behavior as if it was a normal thing. A thing that you readily craved and enjoyed.
A perverted smirk pulled on his lips.
It was one of the widest smirks you’ve ever seen from him. With his eyes practically hidden behind his bangs—his smirk was the only thing you could use as a way to see what he was thinking. With that smile alone you knew he was happy.
Proud even.
This… was exactly what he wanted.
And how lucky was he that you wanted it just like him.
The last of his thrusts were almost cruel. He positioned his hips so his cock would tease your prostate. Barely a touch that was enough to even count as anything. You almost cried at the teasing—it was too much.
Your cock was weeping in your boxers. But you didn’t beg for Kota to start pleasuring you as well. No you enjoyed how he was fucking you. This was too fun. Better than anything you could’ve originally imagined.
Kota released his grip on your face, both hands reaching to grab your waist. He held your body still against the bed. Keeping you still as he delivered his last, harsh, heavy hitting thrusts into your ass. Each thrust earning a loud accompanying cry from you.
Hot wet cum released inside you. The fact that he didn’t even ask if he could only made you shivered in delight. A weak gasp left you. Kota spanked your ass as he pulled out. The cum slowly seeping out of your hole.
“You look beautiful like this.” Kota hummed, “next time I want to see you in full makeup when I fuck you.” He said. He grabbed your boxers, tugging them off when he stopped.
A soft humorless laugh left him.
“You actually came?”
Two fingers touched the lower half of your stomach. White cum leaking from your cock. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. You didn’t expect that this would lead you to cumming in your boxers.
But here you were.
“Of course a slut like you would come untouched.” Kota leaned over you, gently freeing your wrists from the belt. He captured your lips into a hungry kiss—not allowing you to take any sense of control.
→ not canon-compliant ⋆ no current romantic love-interest ⋆ non-story compliant storyline ⋆ reader is nonchalant about a lot ⋆ gender-neutral ⋆ reader is around 17 years old ⋆ reader is not a hero ⋆ this'll probably be very boring ⋆ not proofread
♫ currently playing: Dog - Daisy the Great
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D I R E C T O R Y
prologue -> you are here -> chapter 2
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“Young Master, it is time to rise.” Alfred said from beyond the confines of your room, the sky outside a dark tint with strokes of orange which only just began to show.
Forcing your heavy body up you reached for your phone on your side table, clicking the side button the time showed ‘6 am’ which made you groan, “Come in..!”
The hinges grated together as the door opened, then revealed Alfred, plate of breakfast in one hand, the other used to hold open the door. “Your early breakfast.”
“Right, thanks Alfred..” you grabbed the tray from him, resting it on your lap while scrolling through your phone, Alfred disappeared back through the opening of your doorway, pulling the door with him.
Tiredness heavy on your eyelids, you forced yourself awake, eating as quickly as you could to try wake yourself up, downing the water that accompanied the meal you put the tray to the side and stretched. Stepping out of bed, you left to cross the hallway to the bathroom, empty and cold.
You brushed your teeth, looking at your reflection in the dusty mirror after which you showered, body jolting at the cold water as he heated up and became more comfortable to stand in.
From in the distance of the hallowed halls, you heard Tim, being in a quieter part of the manor meant you were able to hear almost every little sound when you focused enough. Finishing your shower you crossed the hallway again, getting ready for your day trip to Metropolis.
Taking a glance at the time, almost forty minutes had passed since you first woke up. It took another thirty for you to get dressed and to open up your room, curtains flung open as you dragged them to the side, the light leaked into your room, warming your skin while simultaneously blinding you.
By the time you had your shoes on it was 7:10, the bus for your trip left at 7:45 before school started— Oliver basically drilled that time into your head because he didn’t want you nor Isla to miss out. Just as you were packing your bag, your phone rang, a memorable ringtone.
You hit accept while packing, Isla calling out in a tired voice, “Ugh… I had to sleep early for this..” she yawned, the sound of the city in the background.
“You’re there already?” Her groggy hum reached your ears, “Yeah.. mom had to drop me off early cause’ of work.. and it’s so cold here!” She squealed, you could simply imagine her hugging herself while waiting in front of the school for Oliver who was probably on the bus to school by now.
“Don’t freeze before I get there, gotta hang up, I’ll see you soon.” You said, Isla sarcastically laughed ‘ha ha’ before hanging up on you. Listening to the hallway, you felt no presence of anyone.
Having heard the front door shut a good twenty or something minutes ago, you crept down the hallway, making sure not to run into any family when you knew that wasn’t going to happen because of their patrol schedule. Only Duke ever got up at a normal time because he didn’t work at night unlike the other vampires in your family.
Approaching the main area you saw Alfred preparing breakfast, the steam wafted over to your senses, the warm and welcoming smell of fresh food sizzled while he moved his wrist, flicking the pan with precision. “I presume you’re heading off to school now, young master ?”
“Mhm, I’ll see you tonight, remember I won’t be back until eight or sometime around there!” In response he hummed, the quiet buzz in his throat, a sound of agreement. “Don’t forget your allowance.”
“Right, thanks Alfred.” You ran to the counter, picking up the cash and hiding it away, unfortunately your dad forgot to get you a bank account as you grew up and without a parents signature you wouldn’t be getting one anytime soon— a conversation you were desperately trying to ignore having with the man. Alfred took it upon himself to take a portion of Bruce’s wealth every week to gift you, he had access to it for a reason after all.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge you quickly ran past him and down the hall, calling out a quick “goodbye!” To the man before leaving and running past the gates.
Down the rough concrete pathways, turning the corners, Gotham grew more prevalent in presence the deeper you went into the city, heavy mist shower from the early morning air.
Past the visible air you saw the bus, just now pulling up to the bus stop, the doors opened and you nearly ran into the sigh pole hard, thankfully you seemed to have inherited some of your fathers swiftness, grabbing the metal pole you let it catch you before you tripped. The bus driver passed you an amused grin as you scanned your bus card, halfway down the aisle you caught Oliver waving to you.
“Here!” He said, moving his bag away from the seat he was saving for you, “Saw you almost eat the ground, you alright?”
On cue you yawned, head leaning back and stretching your legs forward under the seat in front of you, “Mhm, just close to falling back asleep.”
“Stay awake, you can sleep on the drive over.” Oliver settled his hand over your head and rubbed the top of it reassuringly before pulling away. It took all your power to not fall back asleep, fighting against the hefty weight of sleep that tried to lay over you.
By the time you arrived, Oliver had to hold your shoulders to stop you from swaying, stepping out in front of the school while the cool breeze dabbed your skin, eye opening. If that didn’t wake you up, the loud bang nearby certainly did.
You and him looked to the side, and spotted Isla, hand slapping the window before shifting from hitting to waving. Mouthing the obvious words “come here!”
Before you managed to walk over, you were stopped by Oliver’s hand still placed on you, “Wait Uhm..” he hesitated, you tilted your head to the side, urging him to continue. “Sure your family is okay with you coming with us to Metropolis for the day?” Oliver added, hand on your shoulder, ever the worry wart over you and Isla.
“It’s for a school trip Oli, Bruce signed the papers, come on.” You said, walking pat him with your bag slung over your shoulder towards the bus, Isla waved eagerly from the window where she sat, running to the bus when in showed up to quote ‘get the best seat’ which basically just meant the window seat closest to the back.
You two stepped onto the bus, walking up the two old steps and greeting the driver who was one of your usual patrons through daily life. “OVER HERE!” Isla screamed as if you weren’t only ten feet away.
“We hear you Isla calm down!” Oliver said, walking past you to try and shush her, embarrassed from the attention drawn the both of you filed into the seats beside her, him taking the middle spot between Isla and you.
“Alright, Isla, tell Oliver that I’m not gonna get in trouble for coming on this trip.”
“You’re still on that??” She frowned, dramatically forcing her body limp, head landing on the window with a ‘thunk’, between you Oliver hugged his back closer to his chest, “stop it! I was just saying!”
Your arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him into a side hug, “And I appreciate you worrying, but seriously. It’s fine.” You assured, reluctantly he softened and leaned into the hug, it didn’t take much for you to encourage him to drop it. At least verbally, he’s likely to still worry internally.
Isla threw you two cheap packets of gummies from her bag, “Go, I have a ton, I even got cookies!” Oliver thanked her, tearing open the plastic packaging whilst you tucked yours away into your bag, still full from the breakfast Alfred made you.
Your phone buzzed, a singular message from Alfred reading:
ALFRED: Please have a pleasant day.
[ME]: I will, thank you.
Tucking it into your pocket, you leaned closer to your friends the more people piled onto the bus. Isla talking about something regarding her least favourite teacher while Oliver refuted everything she said about said teacher, and you piping up to add your own opinion.
Soon the bus became crowded, forced to squish closer with your friends, bags being abandoned under your seats to save space.
Ten minutes into the trip, you passed out, on Oliver’s shoulder while Isla poked at your cheek till he stopped her, unbothered by the world around you.
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Duke continuously glanced towards the empty spot at the table, a spot usually occupied by you. No one else seemed to question it other than Dick who joked that you must’ve been rising later than usual, to which no one argued
Not an impossibility, so everyone moved on with their morning, until breakfast ended and Bruce grew semi-annoyed at the fact you still weren’t up on a school day. “Damian” he said, drawing the youngest members attention, Bruce’s eyes glanced towards your spot at the table and then to the stairs, clearly urging him to wake you up.
A regular occurrence, perhaps because you were the only blood related siblings but he usually handled trivial matters when it came to you which added to his annoyance concerning your presence.
“Do I have to?” His voice gruff with morning drawl and discontent. Bruce tilted his head forward, raising a brow in a way that meant ‘yes’ with no room to argue. Damian’s fist dropped onto the table as he stood, an act to show his displeasure in the order before turning and heading upstairs.
Steps reverberated off the walls of the empty hallway, passing doors one by one, all of which held the sanctities of each and every one of his siblings. Yours laid dead centre of them all, yet remained the least important, he knew it, hard to miss.
With a snarky word on his lip he raised his fist to bang on the wooden threshold of your room, “Hey, wake up. Thanks to you I’m missing breakfast.” They hit the door but not you, evident from it remaining shut.
Brows furrowing in frustration, he slammed the base of his fist against wooden aperture, shaking from the pressure. “Hey, I SAID WAKE UP!” He shouted impatiently, “I swear to..” his hand wrapped around the handle, twisting it, lock clicking as it retracted.
It opened, dust kicking up in its wake, he squinted in an attempt to prevent it from touching his eyes, stepping into the room. It took not even a second to realise two things.
Number one, you weren’t here, and number two, you haven’t been for a while. Your belongings? Gone, dust covered most every inch of the room, and it was abandoned, like a guest room except not even Alfred had come close to it.
“The hell..” the words muttered under his breath, he turned and left almost as soon as he entered, slamming the door behind him, footsteps heavy on the ground.
From downstairs, Cassandra was the first to notice it, walls weren’t as still as they should’ve been, moving to look at the stairs, Damian came storming down. Her head tilted questioningly, yet he ignored her, stepping towards Bruce.
“Real funny, making me wake them up all for them to already be gone. Now my food is cold.” He snarked, sitting in his rightful place and eating his now semi-warm breakfast, Stephanie looked up from her plate.
“What do you mean Damian?” She asked, placing down her dull cutting knife beside her now finished plate, across from herself he scoffed, ignoring her and stabbing amok at his food, not even bothering to eat it, appetite gone.
Dick placed a hand onto his shoulder, shaking him mildly, “Hey, pretty sure she asked you a question.” His voice wavered from the side-eye he received, still not removing his hand, he gestured with his other to Stephanie— still waiting for an answer.
His eyes rolled, dropping his utensil onto the plate, the sharp clang sound caused everyone to stop eating. “Damian, what is this about.” Bruce questioned, posture straightening against the back of his chair, spin levelling up.
“It means, they aren’t there, room basically abandoned, you didn’t tell me they moved rooms.” Underneath his breath he added, “stupid, all of it..” it was that which caught his dads attention even more.
Bruce, without missing a beat, stood up, abandoning the table, Dick, ever the first in the family, followed on instinct. Which in turn caused everyone else to act, joining the two with Damian coming up behind them all.
Approaching your room, he held his arm back to keep everyone from crowding the opening of it. Opening the door, it dragged across the floor, unbothered by the dust, Bruce took the first step in, using his skills to learn something from the empty room. His eyes glossed over the cleanly made, untouched bed. The dust covered shelves.
He walked to the closet, opening it only to find a handful of old clothes he hadn’t seen you wear in a while. How long is a while?
Bruce tried to recall.
Everyone dispersed into seperate parts of the room, Stephanie to your dresser, opening the drawers of it, specks of dust being released. Empty, all of it. Dick tried your bed, finding anything but there was nothing to be seen.
Duke hovered by your desk, it was an old one, came with the room. Numerous knick-knacks and old papers dated back months laid in it, nothing with substance. “Clearly they haven’t been here in a while..” he hesitated, “Would Alfred know where they are?”
Bruce looked at him, considering the words before nodding, “Possibly, he should be in the kitchen.” Didn’t take too long for everyone to move down to the first floor, meanwhile Alfred stacked dishes into cabinets, his ears picked up the steps quickly.
As they usually did when anyone tried to enter his kitchen, his body titled askew to the doorway. Bruce appeared first, the band of vigilantes behind him, before he managed to take a step in, Alfred raised his hand with a brow ajar from the other.
“Master Bruce, I’m sure I’ve told you that your presence is not required in the kitchen.” He reminded, Bruce retracted his raised foot, placing it back down just before the point of the kitchen.
A rough, detached sound cleared from his throat, “Alfred, now may be needed as an exception.” Without letting the others interrupt, he explained your disappearance, the lack of a used room.
And the butler ever so consistent at his job, listened. Humming under his breath while doing so, Bruce huffed once he finished, hand rubbing the base of his chin, “If you know what they’re up to, please tell us.”
Now that, was his mistake.
“School,” he replied plainly, Duke stepped forward into the kitchen, not having been banned from it yet. “School?”
“School, Master Duke.” Alfred repeated, continuing his duties of stacking the dishes, truthfully, they did simply ask what you were doing, not where you were. Had it been a separate circumstance, he’d have told them, but this man was no dolt, you asked him very clearly to refrain from telling them. Maybe you hadn’t meant literally, but the family wore slightly on his nerves the more they treated you as if you hadn’t existed, so let him have his fun for once.
Dick pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking and scrolling through. Stephanie leaned closer to him, catching a glance at the screen, “Tim? You’re texting him?”
“He’s at school early today, saw him when he left! I’ll just get him to stop by their class and make sure everything’s alright!” He said, the positive tone calmed the nerves of everyone else, Bruce shook his head firmly is agreement, “Good idea.”
He hit call at that moment, stepping away from group. And a from a distance Tim received the call, sitting at his desk in class before it even started, the space between his brows folded together. Picking it up he pressed answer, holding it to his ear.
“Dick? Why’re you calling me, I’m at school?” From the other side of the screen, through the speak Dick’s voice sounded, “Drop the attitude little bro! I know your first class isn’t for another thirty minutes!”
“Why do you know my schedule??” Tim looked at his phone as if Dick could see the confusion on his face, Dick clicked his tongue, “we are from a family of detectives Timmy, you of all people should know that finding someone’s schedule is the easiest part.”
Tim rolled his eyes, imagining his brothers’ scantily present smug smirk, “Fine, you called because you need something right?”
“Right!” And like those words were the catalyst, he launched into a dramatic reenactment of that morning without him. Tim caught the more important parts, ignoring the obvious embellishments, by the end he managed to piece it together.
You, room abandoned, somewhere at school, perfectly not confusing at all. He coughed into the speaker, making Dick shut up, “Okay, I got it, now what do you want from me specifically?”
“Can you just go to their class and make sure they’re alright?” Tim thought for a minute, yeah, he would surely do that. Except, he didn’t remember where your class was, or who your teacher is.
Clearly his throat awkwardly, he admitted this fact to Dick, “Yeah, of course I’ll do it but.. do you know what their class is?”
Silence on the other end, then nervous laughter— more airy than an actual sound, “I.. aha, I thought you’d know..!”
“…” Tim sighed, phone held tightly in his right hand, the left rubbing his forehead like this entire situation gave him a headache. “It’s fine, tell Bruce that I’ll check it out!”
“Thought you didn’t know their class—" “I don’t, but I’ll stop by the teachers office, check it out, and go from there, it’ll be fine since I’m family.” At the time he didn’t say it, but the word family when referring to you felt foreign, like the bitter after feeling following the time you’d bite your own tongue.
Dick praised him for the idea while the taste lingered on his tongue, cutting him off early and saying he’ll text him when he has answers. Tim turned to his classmate, “Hey, if class starts early tell the teacher I’m just checking on family.”
“That an excuse or a real reason?” They asked.
“Real, I don’t skip for fake reasons, and thanks.” He said before leaving the classroom, from behind him his classmate called out a ‘you’re welcome’ playfully. Being a Wayne came with that, people becoming more easygoing around you, whether for something or just because they think they know you, since they know your name.
Tim walked down to the first floor of the high school, accidentally shoulder checking someone on the way down and apologising without pausing his steps. A few people passing by greeted him, he replied politely, still never taking a moment to stand still.
Coming across the teachers lounge, he knocked on the already open door as a minor warning to not surprise them before walking in, one of the teachers obviously recognised him, waving. “Mr. Timothy Wayne, how may we help you?”
He smiled at the teacher, “Just need to double check something about my sibling’s—" there was that bitter feeling again, “—forgot their schedule, mind checking for me?”
“Are you talking about Duke? I’d be sure to check that for you.” He said, but Tim shook his head, explaining who he was really here about.
A guilty, diffident look appeared on his face, Timothy, ever the detective, called it out. “Apologies Timothy, I just wasn’t aware you had another sibling at this school, I’ll get their schedule right now for you.”
No way, that was ridiculous! How could a member of the Wayne family fly under the radar this much? Did he have a part to play in this, did everyone else? His head shook side to side, shaking away those thoughts, tugging at his bag strap with sweaty palms.
“Oh, there it is. I had a bit of trouble finding it because the attendance list only just came in, their class is currently on a field trip, left this morning not even an hour ago.” He said, Tim breathed a sigh of relief, “Geez.. I was worried honestly, where’s the trip to? Museum? Art gallery?” He asked.
“No, it’s for social studies so they went farther, to.. Metropolis for the day.” Frozen, stilled, Tim couldn’t move, brain processing the information. “Are- you sure??” The teacher nodded.
The next few moments were a blur, excusing himself, he walked out of the room. Footsteps leading him not back to class, but to the exit, cold Gotham air hit his skin. His phone buzzed, probably Dick asking for an update, but he was lost in thought, no way you went to Metropolis without telling anyone.
Why would you?
With unsteady hands, he took his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to look through Dick’s messages.
Dick Grayson: hey, got any answers?
Dick Grayson: Tim Tim?
Dick Grayson: Feels like it would’ve been quicker to send Duke at this point
Dick Grayson: kidding but fr what’s the hold up?
It took a minute, then two for him to put the words into a sentence, it wasn’t that you were on a school trip. It’s that you didn’t tell anyone, you never cause trouble, now on a random morning that changes?
He held his phone back up, typing with both hands.
[ME]: They’re going to Metropolis, I’m coming home now
Ignoring the array of messages he was definitely gonna get, he hailed a cab, almost running onto the streets to do so, the sound of horns honking drew him back. The cab pulled up right in front of him, nearly landing on the curb, he opened the door, jumping into the backseat and fumbling with his wallet for cash, “Wayne Manor, please.” He said, handing the driver a solid hundred.
The trip didn’t take long, he zoned out for most of it. Tim knew people, he had information on them, he understood them through it. You never acted out, you were quiet— unnoticeable some times, but never a troublemaker, you just weren’t.
He knew that, he repeated it in his head. Like insanity, it continued until the driver spoke up, “We’re here.” Tim’s head tilted upward and to the side, out the window was the manor, “Thanks” he said while opening the door.
The cab drove off, he felt the heat from its engine on his ankles, bag clutched between his fingers, promptly his legs ran to the door, opening it to reveal the room full of his waiting family.
“You’re here!” Stephanie shouted, walking up to him, “Dick said they’re in metropolis, were you serious?!”
“Of course I was serious Steph, why should I lie about that?” He sighed, heading past them to the batcave, “Come on, I’ll check out their location and make sure they’re alright.”
“He has their location?”
“He has everyone’s location Duke” Stephanie said, following Tim down to the batcave along with everyone else. Cold, clean floors greeted them, their shoes tapping against it. Tim trekked to the console, chair squeaking across the floor adjusting to his weight, his feet stretched forward, dragging himself and the chair forward, hands instinctively touching the keyboard. “Just give me a minute- Dick stop hovering!”
“But Tim-Tim!” The older complained but was pulled back by Damian, the youngest who mocked him for his immaturity. Bruce stood beside Timothy, watching the screen, but something about it distended outward to grasp their attention. “Uh—" "uh?? That doesn’t sound good.." Stephanie said.
“No, it’s fine I just can’t get a read on their location..” he fingers tapped several different keys, searching for something. “You can’t find someone??” Dick’s voice rasped in panic, the man did have a tendency to overreact at times, Damian just kicked his shins for him to calm down, hunching over he complained about Damian and vice versa but everyone ignored them.
“Why can’t you find them?” Bruce asked, stepping forward. “Uh, best guess, they probably turned off their location for whatever reason.” God, you really weren’t helping his ‘you aren’t a troublemaker’ thing.
Stephanie felt more aware of her breathing, expression tensing, “alright, but why would they do that? Think they’re maybe not actually on a school trip?”
Across the room, Duke shook his head side to side, “I know I haven’t been here as long as everyone else, but that’s not like them, is it?”
‘No, it really isn’t.’ Bruce thought, “Not telling anyone, disappearing, is this some kind of rebellious phase?” He wondered aloud, Dick gasped, “You really think it’s just a rebellious phase?!”
“Not impossible, your rebellion phase consisted of running off to Bludhaven wasn’t it?” Grumbling under his breath, Tim couldn’t try searching for you in Metropolis since you likely hadn’t arrived yet, pin pointing your exact location was difficult. Ignoring Dick’s protest and everyone’s sudden yelling, without another thought he grabbed his phone, quickly texting his best friend.
[ME]: Kon, need to ask you something
Kon: TIM! What is it? You needa favour? You’ll owe me yk, just kidding, but also what’s up?
Giving Conner a short rundown of what happened, he later ended the message with a quick-
[ME]: Mind just checking things out for me when they get there, make sure they actually are on a trip?
Kon: I WOULD, but I have school too! Wait, are you skipping?
[ME]: situation calls for it doesn’t it?
Kon: fine, but Bruce is vouching for me, don’t want Clark getting mad that I’m skipping!
Tim turned to Bruce for concurrence, the man agreed without hesitation.
[ME]: done and done
Kon: cool, I’ll watch out for them, think I have time for a movie before hand?
[ME]: Kon, I swear
Kon: obviously kidding! you can count on me!
“Kon is actually going to be the reason I get grey hairs..” he huffed, leaning back in the chair, the back of it creaking, from behind him Duke came to his side, “So, everything okay?”
“Yeah, I got Kon to wait up for them, see if they’re actually in Metropolis, just gotta wait.” His legs straightened, pulling up his body to stand, “I’m going to wait in my room till he replies, better go over some cases while I have the free time.” Tim said, before leaving to his room.
His dismissal of the situation threw Duke off guard, but when he looked around everyone seemed to have come to the same conclusion. Just wait for everything to be okay, “Steph, is this… usual?”
“Is what usual?” Pieces of her hair swept around in the air as her head turned to face him, “I mean, just waiting like this?” And Stephanie, who was originally going to nod, paused.
Maybe for them it was, someone goes off the grid? Usually hero stuff, look at Jason— he disappears for weeks at a time off who knows where. But what would you be doing missing?
Her canine tooth bite into the inner corner of her lip, “Dammit, I think you’re right.. let’s just trust Conner and Tim right now.”
“Trust who with what?” “DAMIAN— stop just appearing!” Just as he was about to reply to her, Dick wailed from behind him, Stephanie and Duke leaned to the side, looking past Damian.
On the ground laid Dick clutching his arms around his waist, “YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO KICK ME THERE-" “you wouldn’t shut up!” He retorted, taking the opportunity, Bruce then appeared, scolding both of them with his ‘dad voice’ while the two uninvolved with the situation quickly ran away from the batcave with unintelligible yelling fading into nothing.
Unbeknownst to them, somewhere in the house Alfred Pennyworth held the answer to their assumptions, and unbeknownst to you this would later become your problem.
─── ´ˎ˗
Stirring awake, you felt the shaky driving of the bus, blinking slowly to adjust your eyes, Isla called out from the other side of Oliver, “Oh finally you’re awake! Settle this now, who’s better? Red Hood or Nightwing!?”
“I just woke up, please don’t start now..” you said, adapting to the background noise, outside the window behind Stephanie’s head, you saw the unfamiliar town, “We there yet?”
“You sound like my brother..” Oliver said, handing you a snack bag which you declined by gently pushing it away and shaking your head, “and to answer your question, no, but teacher said another twenty minutes.”
Smiling at your friends, you pulled your bag up from the ground to hold in your arms, “Anyways, you’re both wrong, the original Batgirl is the best.” Barbara was the only one in the family who really treated you like you existed so it’s clear she’d be your favourite. Maybe because you were both technically civilians for the better part of the day ? You can’t read her mind.
“You always say that, I thought you didn’t like heroes but seems like you’re just biased to the one!” Isla argued, her messily painted nail pointed at your nose with a playful grin. “I don’t like heroes, but I respect Batgirl, is that a crime?”
“Well my favourite is Red Robin!” Someone from the front of the bus spoke up, “Nah, Superman better!” And that started the whole debate, all the attendees of the trip talked over each other, noise over noise. Isla yelled her own preference, joining the frey with everyone else, Oliver meanwhile put on his earphones, annoyed by the commotion, Isla crawled over you both awkwardly to reach the walkway, talking with everyone else while the teacher sighed and let her head hit the window in defeat.
Turning your head downward you unzipped the front pocket and took out your phone, the screen lit up— no new messages, not surprising. Putting it away, you pressed your back further into the uncomfortable hard seat, leaning your head back to relax, melting into the atmosphere.
The surrounding sound faded and muddled, screening it out of your focus. And before you knew it, you fell asleep again.
For ten minutes before arriving at Metropolis. The bus pulled to a stop, pushing forward then back into park, the shudder of it shook your body and whisked you into consciousness. “Everyone, settle down!”
Facing the noise, in the middle of the aisle was your teacher, holding up her clipboard and tapping it with her fist to get everyone’s attention, “You aren’t children, calm down or we will turn around!”
“No you won’t!” Someone yelled, “Yeah, this is a public school, they won’t waste money for a trip to cancel it!!” Another added, funny how people can suddenly make good points despite just squawking over Green Lantern or Wonder Woman and who had the best costume.
The teacher had given up by this point, she closed her eyes and breathed, “Alright everyone, just.. please stop, we’ll take attendance then you’ll all leave in your set groups, remember to carry your id’s incase you get lost!”
Thankfully she managed to reign everyone in and called off her attendance once again, checking everyone was there before stepping off the bus and watching everyone leave. You, Isla and Oliver walked off last, standing in the crowd of students, listing off the rules for your trip, your teacher handed everyone a worksheet which no one was going to use— and reiterated, “If you get lost, just show the nearest resident your id and ask for directions! And don’t be rude!”
“Alright teacher!” Oliver said with a smile, hand raised, she showed him an appreciative expression, “thank you Oliver, and now everyone, you may go explore!”
Basically everyone dispersed the second she said that, some people left in pairs, some in trios, and others in groups of four. You and your trio sat at a nearby park, going over your work.
“So what’s the assignment again?” Isla asked.
“Just learning about Metropolis, finding landmarks, different locations and asking locals some questions, social study things.” You answered while Oliver pulled out his notebook, re-reading his notes.
He nodded, “Right, I was thinking we walk around the city, landmarks shouldn’t be too hard to find since they’re probably tourist spots, so why not check out some other places while everything is still quiet during school hours?”
Isla and you agreed, Oliver usually took the initiative in group projects just because he actually liked doing so, and both you two were fine with following his instructions. “How long do we have again?”
Oliver looked at his notebook and then back at you, “We leave at six I think, maybe six thirty so we can be back by seven because it gets dark at eight.”
“And when it gets dark that’s when Gotham really becomes Gotham!” Isla jumped in, the three of you laughed at her words, it was a bit dark but you learned to joke about the city after living in it your entire lives.
“Are you gonna visit your dad while we’re here?” She shrugged, hugging your arm while walking side by side between you and Oliver, in response to your question she said “Probably not since we should focus on school, I’ll see him next week so it’s fine!”
“He lives on the outskirts right?” He asked, Isla shook her head up and down, hair bouncing with her action, “Yup, so I don’t know much about it the inner city!”
Your voice laced with sarcasm spoke up, “Ah, there goes our cheat sheet..” she gasped, clinging closer to your arm her voice shrilled, “Is that all I am to you!? Simply a cheat sheet!?” Her hands slipped from your arm to the ground, “Betrayal!”
Oliver pulled her arm, trying to get her back up, “Isla come on! You’re making a scene!” Her head turned to look at him, deadpanned.
“There’s not even a soul here! If you mean the lady walking her dog, crazy thing, she walked away!” Using her free hand she put it to her head, mimicking an exploding motion, expression shifting into a mocking surprise one.
“Okay, I love the theatre production going on but we should probably start doing the work we’re here for.” You said, tugging up Isla as she stood with a pout on her lips.
“Buzz kill, I was really getting into the dramatics!”
“You’re always dramatic” Oliver joked, putting his hands on your and hers shoulders, pushing you both forward, “Now come on, I researched a few places we can visit!”
Walking with your friends against the large city of metropolis, getting lost in the tall buildings and crowds of people, turned around and back again, it was a better than any moment you’d ever spent with your supposed family.
─── ´ˎ˗
Tim rubbed at his cheek with one hand, the other attached to his mouse clicking through files. A buzz on the side of his desk broke him out of focus, groaning he opened it— annoyance dissipating when he read the message he’d gotten.
Kon: saw them! Got off a bus with a lot of other people, a trip like you said
Relief flooded out of his body in the form of a long sigh, at least you weren’t off doing drugs or anything.. he’ll think about why you didn’t tell anyone later. His thumb swiped his screen to exit his and Conner’s chat, tapping the group chat and typing a quick message.
Tim: got the text from Kon, they really are just on a trip
Bruce: Thank you Tim
Dick: GOOD WORK TIM-TIM!
Damian: why are you telling that to Tim, it was the Kent one who did the work.
Tim: let me have this Damian.
Stephanie: As long as everything’s alright then I’m relieved!
Duke: same!
Jason: what happened and why is everything talking like someone was missing
Stephanie: maybe you’d know if you weren’t off wherever in the world like Carmen sandiego!
Jason: Ok.
Dick: damn. Just ‘ok’? Not even ‘okay’??
And away from the manor, the greasy smell of a Bat Burger restaurant hit him, Jason glared at his phone while standing beside his motorbike. “The hell..” he sighed under his breath and kept reading the chat, Duke the ever helpful soul was the one who told him what happened.
How you went missing temporarily. The mention of you made him cringe at the screen, he had nothing against you, but you were basically a stranger. And acknowledging you as part of the family made him feel, off, partially the reason who stopped talking to you after returning from— well, the dead.
Bruce never acknowledged you, when he was younger he felt bad, tried to compensate for that by spending time with you even after you seemed like you didn’t care at all. One time he asked you, and the entire interaction confused him, a troubled kid to an even younger kid, how was he supposed to decipher what you meant then?
Reading Duke’s final message of ‘don’t worry, good thing they’re safe!’ Jason couldn’t help the words he ended up replying with.
Jason: Wasn’t worried
Stephanie: wow, rude.
Jason: just the truth
Cassandra: what truth
Stephanie: CASS!!
Cassandra: hi
Dick: when did you land??
Cassandra: 30 minutes ago
Bruce: Your ETA?
Cassandra: 20 minutes out
Bruce: Confirmed.
Dick: for the love of GOD please type like a normal person Bruce.
He watched as the chat so easily swayed away from the topic of you, being away from the family made him more observant overtime. Of discrepancies that someone like Tim should’ve noticed, and he knows Cassandra saw it too.
“Fuck this..” he said to himself, throwing his phone in his pocket and settling on his bike. He placed his helmet on, gloved hands grabbing at the handles and revving up his engine to head back to his singular apartment. Jason couldn’t waste anymore time thinking about this.
─── ´ˎ˗
“Oli can we please take a break..! We’ve been walking for hours, I NEED sustenance!” Isla said, hanging onto Oliver’s shoulder dragging him down with her. You meanwhile agreed, stomach growling after the hours without food, it had been over at least seven or soemthing hours..
“She’s right Oli, please don’t make us starve for your GPA!” You said, dragging down his other shoulder, the three of you collapsing to the ground as he tripped over his own feet. “Oh my god you both are so dramatic..!”
He tried sounding annoyed, but you and Isla both knew the sound of when he agreed and was just playing the strict guy. You both laid over him, you draped over his shoulder while Isla was on his legs, a weird jenga tower that the people around you chuckled at.
From the corner of your eye you saw a patrol officer who looked really close to scolding you three for public disturbance though so you all collected yourselves and stood up. Oliver awkwardly apologised to the crowd, face red from the blood rushing into it.
Isla meanwhile— grinned and bowed like she just put on the performance of a lifetime, and you just stood between them. “Okay, get up you two I need food” you said, grabbing their arms and pulling them away from the scene.
“Well now you’re gonna thank me for being a nerd because I happen to know of a place nearby that has fries and milkshakes!” He said smugly, pulling out his phone for directions. Isla gasped, “No way, my FAVOURITE combo, hurry hurry! Let’s go!”
She beamed at you, taking out her Polaroid camera that she used for photographing your trip from her bag and snapping a celebratory selfie with it. Later captioning it ‘Oliver’s nerdiness being valuable!’
Oliver led you three to the place, a quietly lit alley that had a few food trucks lined up. In Gotham this place would’ve been a set up for a drug deal, but in Oliver’s reassurance, this really was a regular place.
He fact checked it, because of course he did.
Isla started snapping photos of the entire place, ready to add to her album of pictures, making sure not to exclude you nor Oliver from them as she treasured the entirety of her surroundings.
“Oh, my— seriously Oli there’s crepes too!?” She squealed, shoving her camera into your hands and running over to the truck, already looking through her little wallet of change and passing some cash out of it to the owner while reading the menu.
“I’m gonna go buy us some fries, can you get the milkshakes?” Oliver said, already rummaging through his bag for change, you meanwhile nodded, putting Isla’s camera into your pack and grabbing the money you got earlier from Alfred. “Got it, the usual?”
His head shook, “Actually they have a raspberry one I wanna try, mind getting that for me?” From the crepe truck Isla said, “I’ll take my usual! Hey guys, regular or not regular crepes because I’ll just pile on your favourite things?”
“Non-regular!” You said, “Regular!” Oliver replied, your words overlapping yet Isla gave both of you a thumbs up anyways, indicating that she heard you.
Looking at the cash in your hand, you held it low, a habit because you shouldn’t ever hold up a wad of cash in Gotham. Nearing the milkshake truck, the person manning it, a kind looking twenty-something year old asked what you’d like to order. Repeating your friends words and then your own thoughts about what you wanted he nodded at you, stepping away to start working on them.
The distant sound of the air fryer from Oliver’s side, the piping sound of whipped cream from Isla, and the sudden roar of the blended from yours mixed into a barrage of noise that prevented you from noticing a certain someone.
The blending blocked out any outside sound, waiting for the milkshakes, and thankfully they were made sooner than you thought.
The worker placed a red and white blended one in front of you, and then another with mass amounts of sprinkles and pink syrup, emptying your hands of your possessions into your bag, you carefully lifted up your arms and nabbing the hard plastic, coldness numbing into your palms and fingers.
Yet instead of turning to see your friends you turned and—
“Well, hello there!”
“AH-" the milkshakes fell from your grasp, the world paused as your heart palpitated from the fright. Your eyes focused quickly writhing a second and the person you saw wore a great big smile, similar to the man who protected this city like your dad did with Gotham.
“Conner—??” God you really can’t escape any semblance of your life for longer than a day.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
And that is the first chapter done, I hope it wasn’t too cluttered and rushed. I tried establishing the world and a few characters viewpoints but I may have written too quickly without rereading.
The format I know is a little different from usual neglected!reader fics as the family usually becomes a focus later instead of so early but I just like writing the pov switch, hope it’s okay.
Also, I’m aware the ages make no sense, I’m sorry, let’s chalk it up to reality-warping shenanigans.
-> Thank you to the people who supported the prologue, I hope the rest of the series lives up to ideas and expectations. Yet please remember I can’t meet them all, so I appreciate you all, and I hope it’s alright. I’m sorry if I missed tagging anyone, but multiple accounts said that they weren’t available.
♫ NOTE: If you’d like to be added to the taglist please make sure your settings allow you to be tagged prior to asking. If I reply “🩶✔️” then you’re added. That’s all, thank you.
＊previous chapter <- -> next chapter [unavailable currently.]
you and jake were best friends since childhood because of your families. before graduating college, they told you that if the two of you haven’t found a relationship by the time you graduate, they would marry the two of you off.
you didn’t want that, so in order to stop that arrangement, you decided to set jake up with somebody else.
however, when things get more deeper than intended, can you still pretend that your heart doesn’t beat for the one person who’s stayed by your side all this time.
pairing: sim jaeyun x male reader
contains: 18+ [MDNI], male reader, childhood best friends to lovers, arranged marriage, secret mutual pining, jake is whipped, reader is in deep denial, emotional tension, fake dating, heavy smut, chickboy jake (but not really) x pretty boy philosophy major m/n, slowburn
other characters: other enhypen members, sophia and megan (katseye)
notes: this fic is set in the philippines (yes, i’m a filipino). jake is a 4th year engineering student in ateneo, while m/n is a 3rd year philosophy student in pup. jake used to go back and forth in australia before his family settled in the philippines. some dialogues might be in tagalog (but i’ll also provide english translations). btw, hmu if you’re a filo!
You always knew your families were too close.
The kind of close that made sleepovers feel like second homes. The kind of close that made your mom call Jake her “panganay na hindi ko nanganak” (my eldest that I didn’t give birth to) and his mom call you “my future son-in-law.” You never took it seriously—until they brought it up again this year.
“If you two are still single by graduation, we'll arrange marriage you. Para kampante kami na hindi kung sino-sino lang ang makakatuluyan niyo (So we’ll be assured that the two of you won’t end up with just anybody).”
They laughed.
You didn’t.
Jake? That traitor smiled like it was a promise.
You're sitting on the third step of his porch now, iced coffee melting beside you as you try to process the weight of what graduation now means. Jake lounges next to you, lazily flipping through something on his phone, as if his entire future isn't being hijacked by a half-joke and a mom with a wedding Pinterest board.
“Do you even care they’re trying to legally bind us like a teleserye plotline?” you mutter, eyes fixed ahead.
Jake shrugs, his accent slipping soft and lazy like honey in the afternoon heat. “I’ve had worse offers.”
You shoot him a glare. “So you’re really okay with marrying me?”
His eyes don’t leave the screen, but you hear the grin in his voice. “I mean… you’re cute.”
“Jake.”
Finally, he looks at you. And it hits you, just like it always does when he does that thing—like he's looking through you, not at you.
“I wouldn’t mind,” he says, quieter this time. “Not if it’s you.”
Your stomach tightens. Not from butterflies, but from dread. You’ve heard those words before. From boys who didn’t mean it. From boys who wanted you when it was convenient. From boys who said things like “I’d date you if I wasn’t straight” while their hand was still on your thigh.
And Jake? Jake had the face, the body, the fuckboy rumors. Ateneo engineering major, soccer varsity, tiktoker aura, hotdog-arm-showing-cropped-shirt-wearer. He was the guy moms warned you about and the guy you once fell asleep thinking about, years ago, before you taught yourself to stop.
You can’t let yourself be one of his experiments.
Which is why you say, “Good. Because I found you someone.”
He blinks. “Huh?”
“Sophia,” you continue, grabbing your phone. “Fourth year din (too). Business major, sa Ateneo rin (in Ateneo too). I met her through Jay—she’s pretty, smart, and actually wants a relationship. And she’s not a guy you grew up bathing with.”
Jake snorts. “First of all, you bathed with me.”
You smack his arm. “Second, I’m serious. You want a girlfriend? Date her. You guys are in the same org, same barkada (group of friends). She asked about you, you know. Said you’re cute.”
At that, he perks up. But not in the way you expect.
Not with interest.
With suspicion.
“She asked about me? Or you offered me to her?”
“…What’s the difference?”
“Big difference, M/N.”
You ignore the way your name sounds in his voice, like a secret only he gets to say.
Jake leans in, smirk curling just slightly. “You trying to set me up to save yourself from marrying me?”
“You’re damn right I am.”
Jake’s face softens for a second. “So desperate to not end up with me, huh?”
You scoff, roll your eyes, and shove your phone screen toward him. “Text her. Before I do end up with you and my life becomes a Wattpad tragedy.”
But as Jake reads her contact info, something shifts.
His jaw clenches just a little. His fingers tighten on your phone.
And behind that teasing grin, you miss the flicker of hurt.
He’s been in love with you for years.
You just never let yourself believe it.
And now?
Now you’re handing him off.
On purpose.
To someone prettier.
To someone safer.
To someone not you.
“You said he’s a what now?”
Sophia’s voice crackles over the call, amused and slightly suspicious.
“An Englishero,” you say again, flopped stomach-down on your bed as you scroll through Jake’s old photos to send her. “Like… full Aussie when he wants to be. Grew up back and forth. Accent comes out pag gusto niyang magpa-cute (when he wants to act cute). Which is always.”
Sophia laughs, low and impressed. “Okay, wait, this is him with the soccer jersey, right? The thighs??”
You smirk. “Yup. Also, he’s single, slightly stupid, and—get this—our parents are tryna arrange marriage us if we don’t find someone by graduation.”
“…Girl.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “So you’re setting him up with me so you won’t be forced into a love team marriage?”
“Exactly.”
She hums. “Is he okay with this setup?”
“Babe, he doesn’t even care who he ends up with.”
You don’t mean to say it with so much bitterness. But it’s there. Hanging. Like a splinter.
Sophia, ever perceptive, doesn’t comment on it. Just replies, “Well, if he’s cute and dumb and speaks like Timothee Chalamet, I’m in. When’s the date?”
Later that day, you’re at PUP, stretched across a patch of grass on campus, trying to ignore the weird gnawing in your chest. Megan’s painting her nails beside you while Jungwon and Ni-ki argue over whether K-drama engineers are ever realistic.
“You’re giving him away why again?” Megan asks, not looking up.
“I’m not giving him away,” you mutter.
“You literally matched him with a girl who looks like she walked out of an influencer meet-and-greet.”
“I’m just… stopping a marriage before it happens.”
Jungwon sips from his taho. “A marriage that only happens if you’re both still single. Which means…”
You glare. “Which means nothing.”
Ni-ki smirks. “You like him.”
You throw a leaf at his face. “I don’t. I liked him before. A long time ago. Then he started getting girls left and right like a walking Ateneo fuckboy.”
“And yet,” Megan sings, “here you are, still bitter.”
You fall dramatically to the grass. “I am not bitter. I’m just… responsible. Jake needs someone stable, sweet, with an MBA in the making. Not me, a stressed-out philosophy major who overthinks every facial expression.”
“Babe,” Megan says, “you literally wrote a 3k-word paper on why Jungwon’s side glance last week meant he was going through an existential crisis.”
“…It was meaningful.”
Meanwhile, across Ateneo, Jake leans against a locker as Jay eyes him with that older-brother-who-knows-you-too-well face.
“So you’re really going on this date with Sophia?”
Jake shrugs. “She’s hot. I mean, yeah.”
Jay squints. “Right. You sure you’re not doing this to get closer to M/N?”
Jake’s smile falters.
“I mean,” Jay continues casually, “setting up a date to prove he doesn’t like you is a classic romcom move. Very When Harry Met Salome of you.”
“That’s not even the title—”
“Jake.”
Jake sighs. “I’m doing this to make him see I’m serious. He thinks I flirt for fun. He thinks I wouldn’t want him. I’m trying to prove a point.”
Jay raises a brow. “You sure it won’t backfire? What if he actually lets you go?”
Jake’s silence says everything.
The date happened around 7:14 PM on High Street, BGC.
You’re not there.
But you are watching from Sophia’s Instagram story like a stalker with a WiFi connection and a bruised ego.
They’re sitting at a rooftop bar. She’s laughing. He’s doing that smile—the lazy one, where his tongue peeks out and his dimples go nuclear.
You toss your phone aside. It hits your pillow.
But of course, your friends have no chill.
Megan sends you a selfie: “Lurker era 🤭”
Jungwon sends a meme: “You when he looks happy with someone else 👉😃🔪”
And then—your phone vibrates.
Jaeyun 🐶:
she’s cool. thanks for setting me up, M/N.
You stare at the message too long.
Type.
Erase.
Type again.
You:
no prob! hope you’re having fun lol
Delivered.
Read.
No reply.
But what you don’t know?
Jake’s staring at his screen too.
Sophia’s talking. Laughing.
But Jake?
He’s not listening.
Because all he’s thinking about is how you never once asked him if he wanted to be set up.
And how everything you’re doing to push him away just makes him want you more.
“So,” Sophia says after a beat, setting down her wine glass. “You’re really into him.”
Jake nearly chokes. “I—what?”
Sophia smirks, propping her chin on one hand like she’s watching a good drama. “Come on. You’ve looked at your phone fifteen times, and every time I mention his name, your eye twitches like you’ve got an allergic reaction to your own feelings.”
Jake sighs. “Is it that obvious?”
“To everyone but him, apparently.”
He leans back, defeated. “He thinks I’m just… playing around. Like I’m not serious. Like I’d date anything in a skirt—”
“Well, that’s rude. I’m wearing pants.”
Jake grins weakly. “You’re not the problem. He is.”
Sophia tilts her head. “Then maybe he needs a push.”
Jake frowns. “A push?”
Sophia leans in, eyes glittering. “What if we make him realize what he’s missing? Play along. Make it look like we hit it off. Post a few stories. Hang out a few times. Make him think you’re slipping through his fingers.”
Jake hesitates. “You’d help me with that?”
Sophia laughs. “Babe, I live for drama. Besides, I’m not even into guys.”
And that’s when Jake stares at her, blinking.
“You’re—”
“Yup.”
“Does Jay know—?”
“No. I like seeing him suffer.”
They clink glasses.
The next day, you were a clueless fool at Megan’s house, biting your nails as Sophia posts a photo of her and Jake laughing at a café.
The caption?
guess we weren’t so different after all 💙
Megan stares at you like you’ve lost brain cells. “Okay, if you tell me one more time that you ‘don’t care,’ I will throw your phone into the rice cooker.”
“I don’t,” you mutter, refreshing the story again.
“M/N.”
“What?! I don’t! I just—ugh—it’s weird seeing him with someone else, okay?”
Ni-ki, sitting cross-legged on the floor, raises an eyebrow. “So you admit it.”
Jungwon leans in, voice flat. “You’re in love with your best friend, and you’re too dumb to realize it.”
You shoot him a look. “Shut up.”
“No, you shut up.”
You groan, flopping onto Megan’s bed.
Megan cocks her head. “If you don’t like Jake, why does your whole body glitch every time you see them together?”
You don’t answer.
But your silence is loud.
You thought to yourself: Maybe I just don’t like people getting close to Jake.
That’s it. That’s the whole explanation you allow yourself to believe.
Because Jake’s been yours for so long—not in a romantic way, obviously. Just… emotionally. Practically. Historically. He was the one who called you “[Nickname]” before anyone else. The one who knew which shade of taho syrup you hated. The one who sat through your rants about metaphysics like it was the season finale of a K-drama.
You don’t own him.
But sometimes, it feels like he belongs to you.
Meanwhile, Jake’s pacing in front of Sunghoon and Jay while Sophia scrolls through your latest IG story—just a photo of a book and coffee, but she zooms in on your reflection in the mug.
“His ears are red,” she says smugly. “He’s spiraling.”
Sunghoon blinks. “So wait… you're fake-dating her to make him realize he likes you?”
Jake shrugs. “Basically.”
Jay sighs, rubbing his temples. “This is the most unnecessarily complicated gay pining I’ve ever seen.”
Sophia grins. “You’re welcome.”
You’re still processing that mental lie you keep telling yourself when Megan ambushes you during your Friday breakdown hour.
“Dress up,” she announces. “We’re going out.”
You blink from your laptop. “I have a paper due—”
“It’s Jay’s house party. Everyone’s going.”
“I don’t want to see everyone,” you mutter, eyes flicking briefly to Jake’s latest story. A selfie with Sophia, captioned:
Study date. or not 🤫
Megan arches a brow. “You’re going. Ni-ki already laid out your outfit. He said he’s bringing the slutty cologne.”
“You mean your cologne—?”
“Details, babe. Get ready.”
10:38 PM. You arrived at Jay’s party. It was loud. Too loud. You didn’t expect to feel this off.
The music’s bumping, the crowd is hot, and there’s a beer in your hand that someone definitely refilled without asking. Ni-ki’s glued to your side like a chaos gremlin in a mesh shirt, flirting with anything that breathes and dragging you around for damage control.
“Okay, smile,” he whispers, arm around your shoulder. “Jake just walked in.”
You freeze. “What?”
“Just act natural.”
“What does that mean?”
“I dunno, pout and look expensive.”
You barely manage to compose your face when Jake appears in the corner of your vision. Navy shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy—he looks like every bisexual crisis rolled into one man.
You wave awkwardly.
He stares.
His eyes drop to where Ni-ki’s hand still rests around your waist.
And he moves.
Straight toward you.
“Yo,” he says, voice a little tight. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
You force a smile. “Didn’t plan to. Megan and Ni-ki kidnapped me.”
Jake nods once, glancing again at Ni-ki’s hand. Then—he laughs, kind of awkward, kind of forced.
“Hey,” he turns to you, “can I talk to you for a sec?”
Before you can answer, his fingers curl gently around your wrist, tugging you out of the living room. Not roughly. Just firmly enough that your breath catches.
“Jake—where are we—?”
“Just here,” he mutters, leading you to the empty hallway upstairs. “Away from whatever that was.”
You stare at him. “What was what?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Ni-ki. You two were kinda… close.”
You frown. “We always are. You know that.”
Jake shrugs. “Still.”
Still what?
Still weird?
Still yours?
You don’t say it. He doesn’t either.
Instead, he blurts, “You’re free this weekend, right?”
“…Why?”
“My soccer game. Finals. You should come.”
You blink. “Since when do you invite me to your games?”
He shrugs again, suddenly avoiding your gaze. “Just thought it’d be cool if you were there.”
You narrow your eyes. “Is Sophia coming?”
Jake doesn’t flinch, but his voice flattens. “Don’t think so.”
“Oh.”
“And wear my jersey,” he adds, more casual this time. “I’ll bring it.”
You laugh. “Why would I wear your jersey?”
His eyes flick to yours. “Why wouldn’t you?”
And god, there’s something about the way he says it. Not flirty. Not teasing.
Just serious. Quiet. Hopeful.
You swallow the heat in your throat. “Fine. Just… don’t expect me to cheer like a fangirl.”
Jake grins. “You don’t need to. Just be there.”
Later that night, Jake drove you back home after picking up his jersey from his condo unit.
You stare at the jersey now sitting on your bed.
Still smells like his cologne. Like summer and vanilla deodorant and a boy who’s always been too close for comfort.
You hold it to your chest, pulse skipping.
It’s not a big deal.
You’re just… helping your best friend.
Who maybe fake-dated someone to make you jealous.
And maybe succeeded.
You’re not nervous.
Okay—you are, but you’re hiding it under your hoodie as you walk toward the Ateneo soccer field, Jake’s oversized jersey rolled into your backpack like a secret you weren’t sure you were ready to wear.
SIM 15
His name. His number.
You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. You’ve worn his hoodies before. Shared towels. Slept head-to-chest with him in a cramped tent on a field trip once. This? This is just cotton.
So why does your heart feel like it’s about to choke you?
The bleachers are already filling up when you arrive. Girls with signs. Loud teammates. A few players stretching. Jay waves you over with a stupid knowing grin. You pretend you don’t see him.
But someone else does see you.
“Ohooooo?”
You turn and find Sophia grinning like the cat who caught the gay rat.
“Is that a jersey I see?” she teases, walking over, iced coffee in hand and bisexual superiority in her step. “Let me guess… Sim. Number 15.”
You try to sound casual. You fail. “He gave it to me. Said I should wear it.”
Sophia leans closer. “M/N, baby. I know this wasn’t part of the plan, but are you sure you’re not already dating?”
You flush. “We’re not.”
“Mmm. But you're wiping his sweat and wearing his number like a K-drama love interest in the final arc.”
“That’s just muscle memory!”
Sophia smirks. “So is love.”
You’re saved from further teasing when the crowd bursts into cheers. The players are lining up. Blue and white uniforms, the Ateneo logo shining proudly.
Then—Jake.
Your eyes find him instantly.
He’s walking out of the dugout, hair pushed back, cheeks already flushed from warmups. He scans the crowd once, twice—then spots you.
And he lights up.
Not in a “hey bro” kind of way. In a sunshine breaking through clouds kind of way.
You instinctively lift a hand in a weak wave.
Jake jogs over.
Just before entering the field proper, he pauses near the sidelines where his teammates are huddled.
You’re too far to hear what he says, but you see it—he gestures subtly in your direction. The boys look. Smirk. Nod. One even whistles.
You freeze.
Jake looks back at you, grinning.
You have no idea what just happened.
The game starts.
You try to pay attention.
You fail again.
Because Jake keeps stealing glances.
Because you keep noticing.
Because every time the ball comes near him, he goes beast mode, and suddenly your throat is dry and your brain is wondering if watching soccer is supposed to feel like foreplay.
The crowd roars every time he scores or blocks. You don’t know the rules, but you know he’s playing like he’s got something to prove.
And between every play, every whistle, every break—he comes back to you.
“Water?” he pants.
You hand it to him without thinking, unscrewing the cap before he asks.
Then: towel. You wipe his sweat off his forehead. Neck. You even push his hair back, like your hands remember the way before you do.
Jake blinks up at you, breathing hard.
“Thanks,” he murmurs.
You barely nod. “You’re welcome.”
He grins. “You’re good at this.”
“At what?”
“Being mine.”
You laugh. Nervous. Stupid. “Shut up.”
But you don’t stop wiping his sweat.
And he doesn’t stop looking at you like you’re his home base.
Halftime.
Jake’s coach calls for a break. He jogs over again, this time less sweaty and more giddy.
“You okay?” he asks, crouching by your feet.
You nod. “You're winning.”
He nods too, eyes scanning your face. “So are you.”
You frown. “Huh?”
Jake leans in slightly. “You’ll get it eventually.”
Before you can ask what the hell that means, he’s running back onto the field.
You sit back.
Your fingers curl around the hem of his jersey on your body.
His name. His number.
His eyes.
His everything.
And maybe… you’re starting to realize:
This is not just soccer.
This is not just friendship.
And maybe, just maybe…
You’ve been in love with Jake Sim all along.
The final whistle blows.
And the crowd erupts.
Ateneo wins. 3-2. Jake made the final goal—some dramatic, cinematic, slow-motion shit that you only half saw because you were already on your feet, screaming without meaning to.
People are cheering. Teammates are piling on each other. Someone pops confetti into the sky like it’s a graduation.
But Jake?
Jake doesn’t join the huddle.
He turns.
Locks eyes with you.
And runs.
Straight.
At.
You.
Your heart leaps—no, it rockets to your throat as Jake barrels across the grass like you’re gravity itself.
“Wait, what—Jake—Jake—JAAKE—!”
It’s too late.
He lifts you.
Full arms-around-your-waist, feet-off-the-ground, twirling you in the air like a scene out of a drama you’d clown anyone else for watching.
And all you can do is laugh. Loud and helpless. “Put me down, you idiot!”
Jake doesn’t listen. He’s grinning like a man who’s never been this happy, cheek pressed briefly against your temple, the world whirling with every spin.
The sky is glowing. The team is yelling. You’re still laughing when he finally sets you down, but his arms don’t leave your waist.
He’s flushed from the game, breathless, and his eyes…
His eyes don’t move from yours.
“We won,” he says.
You grin, dizzy. “Obviously.”
“No, I mean—” he leans in just a little, voice low, “I won.”
You blink.
Jake gestures vaguely to the crowd, the team, the field.
“But this?” He tugs the hem of his jersey on you. “This is what I really wanted.”
You just looked at him, unable to hide the smile slowly creeping up your lips.
Half an hour passed, the field’s mostly empty now.
The crowd has filtered out, confetti trampled into the grass, teammates showering in the locker room, coaches yelling about stats that no one cares about anymore.
But you’re still here.
Waiting.
Just like Jake asked.
You sit at the edge of the field, grass tickling your ankles, Jake’s jersey still clinging to your back like it belongs there. Which it does. But you haven’t figured that out yet.
Then—
Heavy footsteps.
And a louder, heavier thud.
Jake collapses right beside you. Or rather—on you. Half his body sprawled across your lap like you’re a human pillow and he’s earned the right to melt into you like this.
You freeze. “What the hell, you’re all sweaty—”
“Shhh,” he groans, voice muffled against your stomach. “Just let me die here for like five minutes.”
You snort. “Drama queen.”
Your fingers move without thinking, brushing through his damp hair, soothing him like you always do when he’s tired, like you’ve always done, long before you realized what it meant.
“You played hard,” you say quietly. “You should rest.”
Jake hums, snuggling in closer. His arms loop around your waist like it’s instinct. Like his place has always been here. With you.
He exhales, lips brushing the side of your shirt. And then, barely audible—
“Your name sounds good with mine.”
You blink.
“…What?”
Jake doesn’t lift his head. Doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t play it off.
Just repeats, softer this time:
“Your name. With my last name. M/N Sim.”
Your brain short-circuits for a second.
Then you laugh. Nervous. Uncertain. “You’re delirious. You need Gatorade.”
But Jake doesn’t laugh.
Instead, he nuzzles deeper into the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, his voice low and serious.
“I’m not kidding.”
You freeze. Your hand in his hair stills. Your heart does too.
“Jake—”
“Don’t overthink it,” he whispers. “Just… let me be here. With you.”
And you do.
Because you can’t move.
Because your body feels like it’s housing something too big to name.
Because maybe—deep down—you do know what he meant.
But you’re not ready.
So you pretend you didn’t hear it right.
You pretend he’s just tired.
While he—buried in your neck, clinging to you like a lifeline—waits for the day you finally hear him right.
Later, both of you decided to go to his place.
Jake’s condo smells like citrus body wash and laundry softener when you step in.
The kind of scent that always hits you in the face when you realize: oh. he lives here. Without you. Without anyone else. Just him. And that ghost of a what-if that’s been lingering between you for months.
He tosses his gym bag to the corner, already barefoot, shirt slightly damp from the post-shower rush. You haven't even taken your shoes off yet, and he’s already wrapped his arms around you from behind.
“Jake—let me order food first,” you protest with a tired chuckle, your phone barely staying in your grip as he sways you side to side like you're slow dancing with gravity.
“Mmm,” he mumbles, face buried into your shoulder. “Can’t we just eat air and each other’s company?”
“...That’s the gayest thing you’ve ever said.”
“And yet you’re still here,” he grins against your neck.
You sigh, but you’re smiling—because how can you not?
You open the delivery app, scrolling through options. Jake doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans more of his weight on you, arms still looped around your waist like you might disappear if he blinked.
“Want anything specific?” you ask.
He shrugs. “Anything you like. I’m starving.”
“You should lie down.”
“I am lying down,” he says, squeezing tighter. “Horizontally. In spirit.”
“You’re literally vertical—Jake—fine, just—just let me press order—”
He finally lets you go with a groan, flopping dramatically onto the couch like a defeated prince.
You finish the order, take off your shoes, and toss your phone to the side.
When you walk over, Jake pulls up the blanket and lifts one eyebrow. “You staying over?”
You hesitate. “I wasn’t planning to.”
He shifts to make space. “Stay.”
Just that.
No teasing. No smirk. No “just kidding” energy.
Just that word.
Stay.
And so you do.
You curl into the space beside him, unsure where to put your hands. He solves it for you by tugging you into his chest, arm draped around your waist, legs tangled like it's second nature.
It is second nature.
Because you’ve done this before.
Movie nights. Sleepovers. “Accidental” naps.
Except this feels different.
He’s warm.
He’s quiet.
And you can feel his heart beating against your back.
“I like this,” Jake murmurs sleepily.
You glance over your shoulder. “What, cuddling me like a giant koala?”
“No. Well. Yes,” he hums. “But mostly… you. Here.”
You don’t know what to say.
So you don’t say anything.
You just let his fingers trace light shapes on your side, his breath settle into a slower rhythm, his body soften behind you.
Minutes pass.
Then—
Barely audible, as his breathing evens out:
“Feels right… having you like this.”
You don’t think he meant for you to hear it.
But you do.
And it settles in your chest like a stone tossed into a quiet lake.
The food arrives around 8PM, still hot, a little greasy, and smelling like home. You lay it out on the coffee table while Jake shuffles over in the softest hoodie known to man—hood up, hair still damp at the tips, like he couldn’t even be bothered to towel it fully.
He plops onto the floor beside you with a dramatic sigh, face hitting a pillow.
You laugh. “Seriously? You couldn’t even sit up?”
“I scored three goals,” he mumbles into the fabric. “I’m basically an athlete-slash-legend-slash-crippled.”
“You’re a baby-slash-annoying,” you retort, already mixing rice and ulam (dish) into a bowl.
He peeks up at you with the most tired, most adorably helpless expression ever manufactured.
“…Can you feed me?”
You blink. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” he pouts. “I’m so tired, M/N. My legs don’t work. My arms are floppy. I’m dying.”
You roll your eyes, but your heart is already crumbling into soft goo. “Fine. But only because you look like a dehydrated pug.”
You scoop some food into a spoon and turn to him.
“Say ah.”
Jake grins like he’s won something major. “Ah~”
You feed him the first bite.
And the second.
And before you know it, he’s practically melted against your side, chewing slowly, head resting on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“It’s a good thing you’re not in nursing,” you mutter, giving him water after the third spoonful. “You’d be excellent at patient manipulation.”
He hums, mouth still full. “I don’t want anyone else taking care of me.”
You pause.
Spoon halfway to his mouth.
Your brain stutters.
Jake doesn’t even notice. He just opens his mouth expectantly.
You recover, awkwardly stuffing food into his face. “God, you’re such a brat.”
He swallows, then says, “Only with you.”
Your heart does a triple backflip in your chest.
You don’t answer. You don’t even breathe. Because you can’t.
Instead, you keep feeding him until his eyelids start fluttering closed between bites, until he leans more into you, heavier now, drowsy warmth radiating off him in waves.
You set the bowl down.
He turns his head into your neck again.
You let him.
And suddenly it’s quiet again. Just the hum of the air conditioning, the smell of leftover food, and Jake—tired, full, clinging to you like you're the softest place in the world.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “For staying.”
You whisper, “Always.”
And you mean it.
Even if you still don’t know what this is.
Even if you’re not ready to name it yet.
Moments later, you don’t remember falling asleep.
You only recall Jake mumbling thanks between bites of chicken, his eyes slowly drooping like a toddler post-fiesta, and the now—
He was curled against you on the couch, arms around your waist, cheek resting right over your heart.
Your fingers are threaded in his hair. His legs are tangled with yours. You’re half-covered by a throw blanket, the room glowing soft with the warm hue of the overhead lights you forgot to turn off.
And for once?
You don’t feel the need to move. Or explain. Or leave.
Because Jake’s here. Breathing slow and warm and safe against you.
You close your eyes.
Peace.
Until—
Click.
The front door unlocks.
You blink.
Wait. Wait.
Jake definitely told you no one else had the spare key.
The door creaks open.
You shoot up slightly, trying not to dislodge Jake (spoiler: you do), and squint toward the hallway—
And there, standing frozen in the doorway with a brown paper bag in one hand and his entire soul leaving his body, is—
Jay.
He stares. You stare.
Jake mutters something like “M/N… five more minutes…” and curls back into your chest.
You look down, then back up.
Jay’s mouth opens. “...So.”
You whisper-scream, “It’s not what it looks like!”
Jay raises a brow. “You mean the part where my best friend is cuddling you like you’re a body pillow he’s married to?”
You flail slightly. “He was tired! I fed him! He told me to stay—!”
Jay walks inside, gently placing the paper bag on the counter. “So you fed him, let him cuddle you, wore his jersey, and stayed the night—platonically?”
You bury your face in your hands. “I hate you.”
Jay just laughs. “You know, Sunghoon and I had a bet.”
You glance up, panicked. “Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”
He grins. “He said Jake would confess first. I said you’d crack first. But now? I don’t even know if you realize you’re already dating.”
You whisper, “We’re not.”
Jay points. “M/N. He is literally purring on your chest.”
You glance down.
Jake, half-asleep, nuzzles against your collarbone with a sleepy smile. “Mmm... love you.”
Jay pauses. So do you.
You both slowly look at each other again.
Jay’s grin drops.
Your brain combusts.
You whisper, “He’s asleep. He didn’t mean that.”
Jay raised a brow. “Or he meant it so much that it slipped past his sleep filter.”
You blinked rapidly in gay panic
Jay picks up his bag. “I’m leaving before you both kiss and make me a godfather. Lock the door. And for the love of God, tell him you love him back when he wakes up.”
Then he walks out. Just like that.
You look down at Jake, who’s now breathing softly against you again.
And suddenly… everything feels a little too real.
You didn’t sleep well after. Next thing you knew, it was already morning.
Birds are chirping somewhere outside. The sun’s shining through the kitchen window. Your skin still smells faintly like his detergent. And there’s this heavy feeling in the air—like something’s about to happen. Like the silence is charged.
You’re at the stove, still wearing his jersey, flipping eggs while Jake moves around behind you, slow and sluggish. Sleepy.
And clingy again.
Because every few minutes, his hand lands on your waist like it needs to remember you’re there. Like if he lets go, he might wake up and you’ll be gone.
You don’t think about it too much.
Because you can’t.
So instead, you reach for distraction.
Small talk. Neutral territory. Safe space.
Big mistake.
“So,” you say casually as you plate the eggs, “how are things with Sophia?”
Silence. Like—you could hear the egg yolks scream.
You glance over your shoulder.
Jake has stopped mid-step, a spoon in his hand, halfway to his mouth.
“…What?” he says, voice low.
You blink. “Sophia? You two have been hanging out a lot. Just wondering how that’s going.”
He drops the spoon. Like, actually drops it. It clatters loudly against the counter.
Jake turns to you. His jaw is tight. His hands curl into loose fists at his sides.
Then, suddenly...
“Is it really that bad?”
You freeze. “What?”
Jake steps forward, expression tight. “The idea of marrying me. Does it disgust you that much?”
Your mouth goes dry. “What are you talking about?”
He laughs once, sharp and humorless. “You’ve been trying to set me up with Sophia for weeks. You act like the thought of us—me and you—is some kind of joke.”
You stammer. “I didn’t—Jake, I didn’t mean it like—”
“Then how did you mean it, M/N?” His voice cracks a little. “Because every time I try, every time I get close to showing you how I feel, you brush it off. You joke. You call me clingy. You treat this”—he gestures between you—“like it’s just a game.”
You stare. Heart pounding. Mind blank.
Because deep down?
You knew.
You knew what it looked like. What it felt like. What he was trying to say without saying it.
But you weren’t ready to hear it.
Not out loud.
And now…
Now he’s standing there, hurt leaking from his voice like a bleeding wound, and he still—still—hasn’t confessed.
Because he's terrified.
Because maybe he thinks if he says it out loud, he’ll lose you completely.
You take a breath.
“Jake…”
He shakes his head, stepping back.
“Forget it.”
And just like that—he turns away.
The rest of the day is weirdly quiet.
Jake doesn’t bring up the conversation from breakfast. He doesn’t storm off or give you the cold shoulder either. Instead, he… acts normal.
Too normal.
He puts on a show like nothing happened—like he didn’t basically bleed in front of you emotionally while you stood there holding a plate of eggs and confusion.
You both lounge on the couch, a movie playing in the background. You don’t remember what it’s about. Something with guns. Or swords. Or dragons?
You wouldn’t know. Because your brain is still stuck on his voice this morning.
“Is it really that bad?”
He said it like a punchline. Like a plea. Like a door closing.
And you? You let it close.
Because you're scared.
Because if he says he loves you, everything changes.
And if you say it back?
You're not sure you know how to survive that.
Little did you knew, Jake was about to snap.
It starts like any other family dinner.
Your parents. His parents. Jake. You. A long table. Fancy restaurant. Cold aircon. Slightly overpriced sinigang.
They’re laughing. Swapping stories. Asking about school. Careers. The future.
You’re halfway through your juice when Jake’s mom smiles across the table and goes:
“So… graduation’s coming soon.”
You stiffen.
Jake—calm, composed, chewing like nothing’s wrong.
“Mm,” his mom continues, “you both remember the deal, right? If you haven’t found anyone by graduation—”
“We marry each other,” you finish weakly, laughing like it’s a silly little inside joke, even though it’s the reason you once considered setting him up with the entire Ateneo population.
Your mom chuckles. “We’re not forcing anything, of course, but—”
“Actually,” you cut in quickly, “Jake’s already dating someone.”
Jake’s fork clinks against his plate.
“Oh?” his dad raises a brow. “Really?”
You nod too fast. “Yup. Been a while. Super happy. Yup.”
Jake swallows.
The table turns to him.
His eyes meet yours.
And that’s when he does it.
That’s when he throws the whole damn match into the gasoline-soaked mess you’ve made.
Jake smiles. Calm. Easy. Deadly.
“Yeah,” he says, “I’m dating him.”
BOOM.
The silence is instant. Like you just said you were moving to Mars together.
Your soul leaves your body and slaps you on the way out.
You choke. “I’m sorry—what??”
Jake looks at you. Innocent. Smiling. “You didn’t want them to think we were single, right?”
“JAKE.”
“Oops,” he says, shrugging like this isn’t the emotional equivalent of being drop-kicked off a cliff.
Your dad looks confused. Your mom is smiling way too hard. Jake’s mom is gasping into her hands like she just won a bet. His dad looks like he already pulled out a wedding planner from under the table.
You’re losing it. “I meant Sophia! You were—Sophia was—!”
Jake turns back to the table. “Sophia’s a friend. M/N’s… more.”
More.
You almost launch yourself into the atmosphere.
“Oh my god,” you mutter. “You’re serious.”
Jake leans closer, grinning now, whispering just loud enough for only you to hear:
“Now you have to deal with it. Since, you know, I’m your boyfriend publicly.”
You shoot him a glare so sharp it could pierce armor.
He just leans back, smug. Like he didn’t just hijack your entire life with one sentence.
Meanwhile, your mom is already pulling out old baby photos. Jake’s mom is giggling. Your dad is Googling marriage license requirements.
Jake sips his water like he didn’t just detonate a bomb and walk away unbothered.
You stood up and gripped his wrist, practically yeeting him out the restaurant door, weaving past waiters, ignoring the old ladies watching like it’s a telenovela.
“Jake. Outside. Now.”
“Was it the public confession or the marriage approval committee I should be worried about?” he teases.
You shove the door open. It swings with drama.
And when you both step outside—quiet street, sun already dipping low, the city humming around you—you turn.
You’re seething. Flushed. Breath short.
“You’re insane.”
He smiles. “Insanely in love with—”
You slap a hand over his mouth.
“No.”
You look around like someone might still be eavesdropping.
“I told you I was using Sophia to get them off our backs. You didn’t have to go full Wattpad on me in the middle of family lunch, Jake!”
He licks your palm.
“JAKE—!”
You yank your hand back. And then—without thinking—your fingers fly up and tug at his hair. Not too hard. Just enough to release the sheer, chaotic frustration burning through you.
Jake freezes.
Then, slowly, he smirks.
“Okay, wow,” he says softly, grabbing your hands before you can even recoil, locking your wrists in his gentle grip.
“Getting feisty, aren’t we?”
“Don’t start with me—”
Before you can pull away again, he leans down and—kisses your knuckles.
Just like that.
Soft. Purposeful. Unfair.
You blink.
Your brain fully bluescreens.
Your soul does a cartwheel off the roof.
He’s still holding your hands when he says, “If you’re going to attack me, at least let me enjoy it.”
“Jake—”
“I meant it, you know.”
You pause.
“…The public confession or the hair-pulling kink?”
He laughs.
But then he quiets. His smile drops just slightly.
“I meant it when I said you’re mine.”
Your heartbeat stutters.
“And I’d say it again. In front of our parents. Our friends. The waiter. Your future therapist.”
“Jake—”
He leans in closer. Still holding your hands like he’s anchoring you.
“I know you’re scared. I know you don’t think this makes sense. But I’ve loved you since we were dumb kids sharing snacks and getting scolded for doodling on each other’s arms.”
You swallow. Hard.
He smiles, gentler now. “So yeah. You can hiss at me. Pull my hair. Pretend this is a game. But I’m not playing.”
Then he lets go and steps back.
“I’ll be inside,” he says. “If you’re ready to stop pretending.”
And with that—
He leaves you standing outside. Heart pounding. Hand still tingling from his kiss.
Tail puffed like a cornered cat who maybe—just maybe—wants to be held.
After a few minutes of composing and giving yourself a very lengthy and rather aggressive pep talk, you return to the table like nothing happened.
As if you didn’t just almost combust in the alley because your best friend turned fake boyfriend turned real heart attack kissed your damn hand and called you his.
Your mom raises an eyebrow. “Everything alright?”
You smile. Too wide. Too bright. The kind of smile that says "I am 5 seconds away from committing a crime."
“Yep,” you chirp. “Just needed air.”
Jake’s already seated. Looking entirely too pleased with himself. His hand is resting across the back of your chair when you sit beside him—casual. Familiar. Possessive.
You subtly swat it away.
He grins.
“So,” Jake says loudly, drumming his fingers on the table, “should we talk venues?”
You blink. “What?”
“The wedding,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I’m thinking beach? Or garden? I know you like plants. We could do something earthy. Maybe get Megan to design the invitations.”
Your fork clangs against your plate.
“Jake,” you mutter under your breath. “What are you doing.”
“Brainstorming,” he replies cheerily. “It’s not every day I get to plan my wedding to the love of my life.”
Your mom gasps. Jake’s mom is crying.
You smile through your teeth. “Can I speak to you outside again?”
Jake winks. “Already did that. You tried to maul me.”
Your face twitches.
He leans closer, voice low so only you can hear, warm and amused against your ear. “You look cute when you’re trying not to commit a felony.”
You hiss through clenched teeth, “I will bite you.”
“Promise?”
You stare ahead, silently praying for divine intervention.
Your dad raises his glass. “To Jake and M/N!”
Everyone cheers.
You are dying inside.
Jake is glowing.
Dinner wraps up with Jake still acting like he just won The Bachelor. His mom is glowing. Your dad is laughing with Jake’s dad. Sophia texted you “i’m gonna kill you but like romantically 😍.”
You’re sweating through your shirt—well, Jake’s shirt that you borrowed once and eventually ended up not givingg back—and silently vibrating with secondhand anxiety.
You’re about to make a clean escape—grab your bag, pretend you left your charger at home, maybe fake your death—when you hear it:
“Anak (Son),” your mom says, smiling too sweetly.
“Can we talk for a bit?”
Oh no.
You sit down again. Your palms sweat instantly.
She waits until everyone else is distracted—Jake’s still entertaining your dad with an exaggerated soccer story—and then turns to you.
And asks, gently:
“So… how long have you been in love with him?”
BOOM.
Immediate internal malfunction.
“W-what?” you cough. “No—I’m not—we’re just friends!”
She tilts her head. “He calls you babe.”
You flail. “That was one time—!”
“He kisses your hands.”
“He started it—!”
“You feed him.”
You freeze. “Okay, low blow.”
She leans in, voice soft, eyes serious.
“M/N. I’ve watched you two grow up together. Since you were kids, you’ve always looked at Jake like he was the sun. And I used to wonder if it was just you being close. But now…”
She pauses. Gives you that look—the one that sees straight through your soul.
“…You still look at him that way. And he’s never looked at anyone else like he looks at you.”
Your breath catches.
“I’m your mother,” she says. “You can lie to everyone else. Not me.”
You stare at your lap. Hands fidgeting. Voice small.
“…What if he’s better off with someone who isn’t scared?”
She places a hand over yours.
“He’s not asking for perfect. He’s asking for you.”
Your chest tightens.
You blink back the sting in your eyes.
And suddenly, her voice is gentler. Teasing.
“Besides, anak (son)… you think he’d let anyone else wear his jersey?”
You laugh. Quietly. Wetly.
“…He’s so annoying.”
She smiles. “Yes. But he’s yours, isn’t he?”
And this time, you don’t deny it.
After everyone bid their goodbyes, you step outside.
Jake’s already there, sitting on the curb like a model in a sad music video. The street lights paint gold over his skin. He’s spinning a bottle cap between his fingers like he’s been waiting—not just today, but forever.
He sees you and grins.
“Your mom give you the full ‘so when are you marrying my son’ talk?”
You cross your arms.
“I don’t like you.”
Jake blinks.
Then slowly—so slowly—he smiles.
The kind that tugs at the corner of his mouth, smug and soft and devastating.
“You done lying for the night?” he says.
You feel your face burn.
“I’m serious,” you mumble, shifting on your feet.
Jake stands.
And then he steps in close.
Not enough to touch. But enough to feel the heat from his body. Enough to make your knees consider betraying you on the spot.
“Okay,” he says, nodding casually. “You don’t like me.”
“Right.”
He smirks. “Then you won’t mind if I kiss you tomorrow.”
You choke. “What?”
“Just saying. If you don’t like me, it won’t matter, right?” He shrugs. “You won’t care if I kiss you. Or if I keep texting you goodnight. Or if I make you coffee the way you like it. Or if I call you mine in front of people again.”
You stare. Mouth slightly open. No words, only malfunction.
Jake leans in—just barely—and adds, in a whisper.
“I’m still going to make you mine, M/N.”
Then he steps back.
“Anyway,” he says cheerily, “see you tomorrow!”
And he leaves.
Just like that.
You’re left standing in front of the restaurant, face on fire, heart pounding, your brain short-circuiting like a faulty karaoke mic.
You yell after him, “I SAID I DON’T LIKE YOU!”
Jake, without turning around:
“Sure, babe!”
You scream internally.
And maybe—just maybe—a little externally, too.
You get to campus early.
You’re calm. Composed. Dressed in neutral colors and a will to survive. You’ve successfully ignored Jake’s three good morning texts, his “hey babe” voice note, and the meme he sent of Layla holding a sign that said “Stop saying you don’t like him. You’re literally in love with him.”
You’re fine, until you reach the gates of PUP.
And see him.
Wearing your department shirt.
Yes. Your PHILOSOPHY DEPARTMENT shirt.
You freeze.
He waves. “Hey, batchmate!”
“Jake,” you hiss as you reach him. “What are you doing here?”
“Wearing your shirt. Embracing your world. Becoming your destiny.”
“I’m going to scream.”
“Want me to wear your ID next?”
You swear your vision tilts.
“I have class,” you mutter, trying to sidestep him.
He follows. “Same. It’s called Advanced Flirting: Seduction Through Emotional Warfare.”
“Jake.”
“What, I’m just being a supportive fiance.”
“Stop calling yourself that—”
“I will when you admit you love me.”
You almost trip.
Later that day, your friends spot him waiting by your building with food.
Jungwon stares. “You still think he’s not in love with you?”
Megan just eats a fry. “Should we start planning your prenup?”
Ni-ki whispers, “Tell him to take the shirt off.”
You glare. “He’s testing me.”
Jake pops a fry in your mouth before you can finish.
You choke. He smirks.
“Eat well, babe. You’ll need energy. Loving me takes work.”
You scream internally.
But also… your heart skips.
Because no matter how loud your denial is—he’s louder.
Later that night, you're pacing in your room, your phone buzzing like hell. Twitter is on fire. Jake posted a soft photo—your side profile, blurry, sunlight caught in your lashes, your lips parted as you sipped from your coffee.
my favorite view 🥱💙
Your friends filled the comments.
@sunghoon: OK BOYFRIEND
@megan: M/N???
@jungwon: oh this is getting out of hand
@niki: LITERALLY SAID YOU’RE NOT IN LOVE?????? THIS???
Out of spite, you commented:
@m/n: JAKE DELETE THIS. NOW
And then moments later, your phone rings.
Sophia.
You answer.
“Hey—”
“I’m going to kill you.”
Your brows furrowed. “What did I do?!”
“Stop denying your feelings, for Christ’s sake, M/N! I can’t take any more of Jake’s rants about you!”
“What—I—Weren’t you, guys, supposed to be the ones dating?! You two seemed to hit it off—”
“We were faking it, duh!”
You pause.
“We wanted to watch you squirm and admit—verbally and truthfully—that you actually like him! But Jake wasn’t kidding when he said that you’d rather get hit by a comet than talk about feelings!”
You hear a door slam in the background.
Then suddenly, your group chat starts BLOWING UP.
Jungwon: emergency call now
Ni-ki: im adding megan
Megan: this better be about M/N’s mess
Sophia: it is.
Within 20 seconds, you're on a Google Meet of doom.
Ni-ki looked at you like he was judging your entire existence. “Do you hate happiness?”
Megan: “Genuine question. Do you think love is a government scam?”
Jungwon: “We have receipts. He’s been in love with you for years. Years, M/N.”
You run a hand down your face. “Okay, okay. I get it. I might like him.”
They all whined.
Ni-ki: “MIGHT??????? MIGHT??????????”
Megan: “You literally moaned his name in your sleep during a field trip, and I have it on audio.”
You choke. “WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT?!”
Sophia leaned closer to the camera. “You’re the only person who doesn’t realize this is real. Jake’s not playing. He hasn’t been playing.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Jungwon speaks, softly. Seriously.
“You’re going to lose him if you keep pretending you don’t want him the way you actually do.”
The silence hits different.
You blink, eyes a little glassy.
“...What if I don’t know how to want him the right way?”
Sophia’s voice is calm. Sure.
“You just have to stop running away from it.”
Another ding.
Jake.
It’s a picture. You and him. His hand half-visible in the foreground, your head resting against his shoulder. Taken today. You didn’t even know he snapped it.
“I think you’re my favorite thing.”
And for the first time…
You wonder why you’ve spent so long pretending you weren’t his too.
a/n: i’m cutting it here since i feel like it’s too long for my liking. i’ll post part 2 once i’m done with it. next part would tackle about how m/n would deal with his feelings for jake now that he learned to accept it to himself (also some heavy smut 😏). thank you so much to everyone who reads this and i hope you enjoyed it!
you get caught between the campus' valedictorian and hearthrob, completely unaware that they're actually twins and not just one annoying person. what happens when your heart gets caught up in the messy drama between rivaling twins?
♡ ₊˚‧ in today's episode. satoshi probably whored himself out to girls on the weekly, so what's the issue with you using him like one too?
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. college au :: lots of smut :: angst :: messy dynamics :: named twin :: jealousy/possessiveness :: messy reader :: semi public sex :: parties :: nerd/delinquent trope :: academic rivals :: fuckboy!bikerjo :: rival!nerdjo
꒰ episode 02 :: masterlist :: episode 04 ꒱
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ has been ecstatic all week. which was odd, considering he's been acting so off. he's ignoring girl's bedroom eyes. ignoring number offers. hell— he even ditched friday's party at sukuna's place. who the hell was he? answer: whatever you wanted him to be.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ keeps thinking back to how you showed up at his doorstep and kissed him like you were trying to suck the soul out of him. the way you grabbed him by the collar and whined his name into his lips. for the first time in awhile, satoshi almost couldn't keep up with a kiss.
that was until he had you on his couch. head buried between your thighs and tonguing on your clit. rolling his tongue piercing on the bud until you were whimpering.
"sato—" you cut off in a whine.
fuck. can't even say his name?
he's never had a girl actually make him hump his own couch because she sounds so pretty while he's eating her out. never had a girl that made his eyes roll back and his throat bob all messy. as he eats your cum and drinks down your squirts.
"babydoll, fuck— s'fuckin' sweet. you really are a sweet girl, huh?" he panted into your thigh. bit down and pressed his tongue piercing against the mark afterwards.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ had you on your back. knees crooked over his shoulders with his big hands on your waist while he stuffed you full of cock. fixated on the way your body fluttered and trembled for him. on how you squelched and creamed him so good until a messy ring smeared his base.
"so needy. needy for this cock baby? y'missed it?"
he's slurring. not even a single fucking drink down and he's slurring. drunk on your kisses and the sweet squeezes of your pussy as he fucked you into his couch. rutting it against the opposite wall and probably a few seconds away from sukuna's noise complaints.
he didn't care. not when he had you choking on his name and barely being able to complete it. not when he had you whining and begging and pleading with him not to stop.
he'd swoop down and tangle his tongue with yours every time you approached another high. slammed his hips faster—and faster— ground his pelvis up into your spasming clit— until you squirted a hot stream and puddled the fabric of his couch even more. fuck. he hoped you'd leave a stain.
little did satoshi know that every time you 'struggled to say his name'— it was because another was on the tip of your tongue.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ really had no idea that you were picturing foggy glasses shoved into his hair. no idea that you were imagining cold blue eyes and a sharp tongue calling you a stupid slut and holding you up against his desk covered in textbooks as he fucked you mean on his cock. he especially had no idea that it was his twin's name in your throat every time he stuffed you to the brim and smooched your cervix.
you should feel bad. you do. you know it's awful. know you're using satoshi in a way that disgusted you to your very core— but what did it matter?
he probably fucked more girls than you could count. probably had them in this position. squeezing their thighs and calling them his babydoll while he rubbed their clit and told them to cum for him.
you knew guys like him too well. unfortunately well. you wouldn't be fooled again. so really— were you in the wrong for imagining his nerdy twin?
you're sure it didn't matter to satoshi anyway. as long as he had a warm pussy to fill and a hit for the night. guess you're both using each other, huh?
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was eating up all of your attention. he thought he'd have to go back to chasing you down again after that night. but to his surprise, two days later you were giving him eyes in an empty hallway and batting your lashes.
. . . should he really be at fault for the way he shoved you into the lockers with a hand buried in the back of your hair and a hand squeezing your ass? could he really be the one to blame when he crashed his lips to yours and shoved his tongue in your mouth when you were looking at him so sweetly?
"babydoll," he groaned, whined, as he sucked on your tongue. "keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna make sure we get expelled."
and when you nipped at his lip piercing and called his name so softly? he just had to dive back in and kiss you until your knees were shaky. not caring in the slightest for the footsteps that stopped at the foot of the hall.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ for the second time, has never wanted to break his brother's jaw more.
or should he blame you? surely you knew by now that he took this hallway to get to quantum physics class. surely you knew that there was a chance he'd walk down this hallway and catch you face-fucking his brother. right?
the assignment sheet he'd been reviewing in his hand crumpled. fist shaking and jaw tight. fine. fine. if you wanted his brother so bad? you could have him.
it's hopeless anyway. satoru wouldn't even know how to treat you if he had the chance. too inexperienced. too emotionally inept.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ made sure to avoid you like the plague. he never should have let impulse take over. never should have kissed you in that library. fucked you on his fingers so clumsily and made you realise how useless his hands were when they weren't practising equations and flipping through textbooks.
he hated how he still wanted you. how he still thought about you. how he'd bury his face into a pillow and hump on another until he was grunting and cursing your name into the fabric. until he was whimpering it— like some pathetic boy who got his candy stolen.
"I hate you—" he huffed, voice shaking as his hand still had the nerve to squeeze around his tip and rub another pitiful spout of cum out of him.
"I hate you. I h-hate you— fucking hate you." his head tips back, breaths fogging his glasses that hang off his nose. thighs twitching from three orgasms spilled all over his sheets just because he can't get you out of his fucking head.
what did it matter? you're the kind of girl only satoshi would know how to please. and it seemed you knew that.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was confronted by his best friend, sukuna, one thursday morning. yanked into some empty classroom with his helmet still tucked under his arm and cursing at the pink haired jock.
"the fuck's your problem?" he grumbled.
"should be asking you that shit." sukuna huffed.
he found out very quickly what sukuna was on about. asking if he was okay, if he was on something, if he finally gave in to peer pressure and decided to snort a line of some shit because he absolutely was not acting like himself. not looking at girls, denying numbers, missing parties. it wasn't like satoshi. not the campus heartthrob who just had to smile and wink a pretty blue eye to get whatever he wanted.
"you've been all over that girl." sukuna said. "you've never been this hooked. heard you last night too."
satoshi had to bite back his smirk. right. he had you bouncing on his cock last night. grinding your hips up into his and whimpering for him to help since he's just too big and your poor pussy's struggling. wait—
sukuna's rough hand shook him by the arm. "see? you're fucking spacey. what the hell's going on with you?"
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ got a firm talking to. got told he was actually falling in love— and that vulnerability scared the piss out of him. love? he didn't know how to love— not really. girls liked his dick and his bike and the filthy things he'd whisper in their ear when no one was looking. but love. . . fuck.
the way his heart was hammering said it. the way his chest fluttered when sukuna brought you up.
"what the fuck do I do?" he mumbled, hating how soft his voice was as he raked a hand through his white tuffs. "yeah— okay, maybe I like her. but what the fuck do I do?"
"take her out. maybe somewhere to eat. somewhere fun. can't be fucking her every time you meet up." sukuna flicked his arm.
satoshi winced. then considered it. maybe he could finally take you for a drink like he'd first offered. or maybe a party? a midnight ride?
"yeah well, she wants to fuck me whenever we meet up." he mulled, then shrugged. "guess I can combine the two. maybe that's just her style, y'know?"
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ thought about it a little more than he'd like to admit. spaced out in his classes, spent his lunch scrolling through food joints, hell— he even made a note on his phone. he wasn't good at this stuff. wasn't sure when last he went out on a date. girls usually wanted him for his body and that was it. they cried on his dick and scratched up his back but he never really offered them to hold their hand in some romantic coffee shop or whatever.
it hit him in the dead of night. when he was in bed and on his routinely hour of thinking about you. he phone has buzzed with a gallery memory. a picture he'd snapped from the photo album, of a kid him and satoru at a fair with their parents. satoru was hugging some big stuffie while satoshi lingered behind with a half-eaten funnel cake.
and that's when it hit him. . . a fair. they're fun, there's food, they're cute. that's what the couples in the movies do, right?
he sent you a text immediately. then flopped his phone down onto his chest and grinned at the ceiling like an idiot.
well. until a cold realisation washed over him, and he had to call up his best friend in the dead of night to awkwardly ask for some pointers.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't believe it. you actually agreed. you were actually standing right beside his bike and holding the helmet he'd handed you. with a cute little dress on and that lip gloss he had the urge to smear in heated kisses. but he held back.
"so you just had another helmet lying around?" you asked, brow arching as you fiddled with the straps.
"nah." he waved his hand. "just snatched one from the store."
he blinked at the look you gave him, then grinned as he took the helmet. plopping it on your head and clasping the strap beneath your chin. "meant I bought it baby. whatdya take me for? a delinquent?"
he flipped the visor up. crooned at your little glare and stroked his thumb on the side of your neck. "you really want me to answer that?" you huffed.
"don't look at me like that."
"or what?"
he pressed his lips to your temple. hand squeezing on your waist as he hoisted you up against him.
"or I'm gonna have to do some nasty things to you right over my bike, babydoll."
he always loved how flustered you got. the way you shoved at his shoulders and huffed at him as you turned away. but despite his wide grin and his low words— he didn't want any of that tonight. he just wanted to take you out. treat you right. if you initiated, well, he guessed he couldn't deny you but. . .
tonight he wanted to try to love you the way that you deserved. just for tonight.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ sent you a text. he couldn't help it. he saw you leave capmus with satoshi. saw the way you were bickering and he was grinning. what, were you off somewhere to fuck like rabbits again? off somewhere to forget about how it was his dick you were begging for in the library? the insecurity, the hurt, it all spilled over into harsh thumbs and harsher words.
gojo satoru: he's good for you. you're both whores.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ got you whatever you wanted at the fair. sweet treats? drinks? that oddly shaped teddy bear that he caught you glancing at when you passed one of those overpriced ring toss games? he made sure to win it for you. had no problem catching the rig in the game. he remembered when his parents would take him and satoru to these fairs and his dad would win the prizes. satoru often got them but— whatever. satoshi didn't wanna focus on that now.
all he cared about was the way you tried not to smile as he victoriously handed you the deformed plushie. "guess that means you owe me a kiss huh?" he hummed, leaning over you like some lovesick puppy.
he didn't catch the way you hesitated. nor the itch in your palms. he was too distracted by your gloss on his lips and the kiss that he melted into. shoulders sagging and heart fluttering as you hooked your arms round his neck. pulled him in deeper. gripped his hair.
he was all dazed. so drunk on your lips and the idea that he was here. kissing you at some fair with butterflies in his stomach and his heart in his hands. he didn't even process your mouth that slipped to his ear.
"I spotted a photobooth not too far. wanna go make some memories?"
as you nipped on his lobe. his chest fluttered.
wait.
that didn't sound very cutesy romantic.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't aware that the only reason you pushed him into that photobooth and climbed into his lap was because you were thinking of his brother. had no idea that satoru had even texted you. that the only reason you started humping on his lap and whining his name into his ear was because his twin had pissed you off and your pussy was throbbing for satoru. not him. but satoru.
he was a fool, really. gripping your waist and drowning on your lips. groaning into your tongue as he bucked up into you. catching on your clit just right and gripping the back of your neck as your pretty moans pitched.
"hah— gonna get us caught." he mumbled. too high on the way you ground on his cock to focus on how he was distracted by lust rather than love. on how you'd turned a sweet kiss into a filthy makeout session in a photobooth.
"that what you want? wanna get caught bouncing on my dick?"
his words were muffled by your heated lips. the hot tangle of your tongue and the dirty grind of you hips. blissfully unaware that you just needed him to shut up so that you could imagine his twin while you ground yourself to an orgasm.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ felt his knees shake as you both eventually crawled out of the photobooth with a strip of filthy pictures. unbeknownst that it was a testimony of you wanting his body because he looked like a man who actually held your heart.
he still folded it. fixated on the perfect shot of you both kissing. then tucked it away in his wallet.
he should have known better. he really should have.
but he was so lost in the fantasy of this date. in the idea that he was doing well for once— treating a girl in a way he never has before. outside of sex. outside of what his fingers, tongue or dick could do. no technique, just tenderness. he gave you his jacket at some point in the night. his heart throbbed at how pretty you looked in it.
yeah. satoshi was a bit oblivious to the way your hands were all over him at the haunted house attraction. he had to push you against one of the walls and kiss you stupid. but it's just because you needed him so bad— right?
yeah. he didn't think much of the way your hand crept on his lap while you both sat down to share a sundae. he just slipped his fingers down and wrapped them around yours. gave you a little squeeze.
he surely wasn't paying attention when you'd kissed him hard as the ferriswheel stopped at the top. all he heard was the fireworks above. all he felt were your hands pushing under his shirt. the way you climbed back into his lap and gripped the back of his hair.
no. satoshi didn't care. all he cared about was that you were kissing him. and it was beneath the fireworks. doesn't get more romantic than that, right?
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ was all loopy as he drove you both back home. his head spinning cause your head felt so warm laid between his shoulders as he steered the bike back to campus. he skipped a red light. didn't even care about the speeding ticket that'll probably await him.
all he cared about were your arms looped around his waist and the fluttering in his chest.
he walked you up to your dorm. told you to keep the helmet, and the jacket. smiled— not grinned or smirked or anything smug of sort.
he smiled when he told him goodnight.
"don't I get one last kiss?"
he couldn't help it. he was greedy for what he thought was his.
and here you both were now. with him pinning you to the opened door. hands gripping your thighs that plushed on his waist. his mouth on yours. hot and hungry and the kind of desperate need that he hasn't felt before with any other girl.
your hands were in his hair again. they always were. holding your mouths together as you rutted your hips into his.
"babydoll," he groaned, withdrawing so that saliva webbed both of your lips. a few messy strings caught on his tongue piercing. his white lashes fluttered over blue eyes practically shaped into little hearts. "you don't know what you do to me."
his breathing was ragged. something clenched in his chest. then lodged in his throat.
something he couldn't quite name but wanted to say anyway as he looked into your glassy eyes and felt your hot cunt throbbing on him through his jeans.
he sucked in a breath. one large hand cupped your face and tilted it up. he drew closer. breaths bated. heart stuttering. "I—"
bzztt!
he cleared his throat. something told him to pull his phone out. the text floating on his screen had him blinking.
toru: dude I need your help.
˖ ࣪꒰ BIKERJO ꒱ ˙˖ set you down. smooched you for good measure and apologised. called you his babydoll one last time and told you he had an emergency. satoru never texted him for anything. and as much as he'd love to spend another night between your thighs— his brother came first.
he rushed off. leaving you panting and with a heavy stone in your heart as you shut your door and pressed your back into it.
did you really just do that? did you really just use a man because he had the face of your rival who you fell in love with? because his voice sounded just like satoru's when he said the right thing in the right tone?
you looked at the helmet in your arms. remembered the jacket wrapped around you.
you felt sick.
but you shoved it down. told yourself that satoshi only wanted sex. that you'd never love someone like him. that this was fair transaction.
as you plopped the helmet on your desk and drew a heavy sigh. still hot and bothered between the legs as you flopped onto your stomach into your bed. pulling your pillow closer and burying your face into it with a muffled, exagerated whine at your own heart.
his jacket still felt so warm around you.
sleep. you just needed some sleep. needed to stop thinking about the twins that you were caught in some messy triangle with. your eyes hung heavy. fluttering shut as your breath slowed. body easing into the sheets. you allowed sleep to drift you off somewhere warm.
that was until. you felt a weight press down on top of you.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was shaking. actually shaking. his hands were shaking as they snatched your waist. his knees were shaking as they shoved into the bed. he watched you panic. watched you squirm. watched you jerk up— only to freeze when you saw him.
"sat— satoru?"
and he kissed you. harder than he had in the library. harder than in any of his dreams. it was clumsy and fervent. a clash of teeth and tongue.
the worst part? you kissed him back. fuck. you kissed him back. you want him. some part of you wanted him. even though you keep giving yourself to his bastard twin.
he gripped the back of your hair. shoved your face down and rutted his hips against your ass. slow, and rough and haphazard as groans caught in his throat.
he lurched down. nose pressing into your cheek and his cock throbbing against the back of your thigh.
a part of him thought his heart would stop from how hard it was beating. thought he'd pass out from pure hyperventilation with how heavy his breathing was.
his voice was ragged. it didn't sound like him. he didn't feel like himself. didn't know what he was doing— only that he was so. fucking. tired. of seeing you with satoshi.
"you wanted it?" he jammed his hips harder into yours. grinding in frantic bucks. "then you're gonna take it."
teeth clenched. eyes glossy behind his glasses. he shoved your head into the pillow further and nearly whined at your muffled moans as he pressed his panting mouth against your ear.
jaw ticked. breath jagged.
"even if I don't know how to give it. you're gonna fucking take it."
When you asked Riddle for his card, his eyes widened in surprise. You rarely asked him for anything. He had always told you to rely on him more, to let him take care of you once in a while, so he did not hesitate. He handed you his card, imagining you would use it for something nice, maybe a fancy gift or a proper meal. He wanted you to feel spoiled. “Do not hold back, alright?” Riddle smiled.
Later, when you returned, he looked up from his homework, expecting a bag or two of purchases. Instead, you handed him his card back and quietly licked at a small cup of strawberry ice cream.
Riddle just… stared. “That's all?” he asked, utterly baffled. “You could have...you could have bought something useful!” His voice went up slightly, flustered by how casual you were. You only shrugged and said you just wanted ice cream. His expression softened immediately, the strict composure melting into something fond.
He sighed, smiling. “Honestly… you are unbelievable” he murmured. But as you sat beside him, Riddle watched you happily eat and shook his head fondly. “But… if that’s what made you happy, then I suppose spoiling you with something simple is not so bad.”
۶ৎ Leona Kingscholar
Leona did not even question it when you asked for his card. In fact, he had been waiting for you to finally give in and let him spoil you. “Bout time you asked” he drawled, handing his card over lazily. He expected you to come back with something extravagant, maybe new clothes or jewelry. When you returned and plopped down beside him with only a single ice cream in hand, his ears twitched in disbelief. “That’s it?” he drawled, brow arching as his tail flicked.
You took a bite, humming contentedly as you handed the card back. Leona snorted, getting his card and leaning back against the bed. “You seriously used my card for just an ice cream? I told you to spoil yourself, not go easy on me.” There was an amused rumble in his chest, low and teasing. “You’re such a weirdo.”
But as he watched the little smile on your face, his teasing softened. He reached over to swipe a bit of ice cream from your lip with his thumb before licking it off, smirking lazily. “Hmph. Guess if it made you happy, I don’t mind. But you’re too modest. Guess I’ll just have to spoil you myself next time.”
۶ৎ Azul Ashengrotto
Azul was genuinely pleased when you asked for his card, he had been trying to pamper you for ages. “Of course, my pearl. Buy whatever you desire.” he said, smiling smoothly. He wanted you to indulge, to feel taken care of. His imagination ran wild, already picturing you returning after shopping, perhaps you had chosen something expensive, or maybe you had ordered from Mostro Lounge’s premium menu. But when you came back with a small ice cream, his confident grin faltered.
He blinked at the dessert, then at you, then at his card. “...That’s all?” His voice came out faintly incredulous. “You could have purchased anything you wanted, and you chose ice cream?” When you nodded, perfectly content, he pressed a hand to his face, muffling a sigh.
But then he peeked between his fingers to see the satisfied smile on your face. The genuine happiness there made his chest tighten. Slowly, Azul chuckled under his breath, giving up. “You truly do not know how to spoil yourself, do you?” he said, fondness slipping through his composed tone. “Next time, I will accompany you and we will make sure you get more than just that.”
۶ৎ Kalim Al-Asim
Kalim was so excited when you asked for his card. His eyes sparkled, thinking you had finally accepted his offers to let him spoil you. “You want my card? Absolutely! Buy anything! You deserve it!” he said, practically pushing his card into your hands. He spent the next hour happily imagining what you might get, jewelry? New clothes? Something fun and colorful? When you came back grinning with an ice cream cone, he froze mid-wave.
“Huh? That’s all?” he said, wide-eyed, before bursting into laughter. “You’re amazing! I thought you were going to go all out!” You shrugged with a bright smile, and he could not stop grinning.
He reached out to take a bite of your ice cream, “You could have bought the whole cart if you wanted! But you just wanted one scoop, huh?” He laughed again, his eyes soft with adoration. “You’re too cute. Next time, I am coming with you. I am not letting you leave until you really let me spoil you!”
۶ৎ Vil Schoenheit
When you asked for his card, Vil’s lips curved into a graceful smile. “Finally” he said, handing his card to you. “You deserve to be spoiled, darling. Do not hold back.” He imagined you browsing the boutique, picking out something refined, maybe a new outfit, a skincare line, a designer item, or a luxury perfume, something worthy of you. But when you came back holding only a single cup of ice cream, Vil nearly dropped his mirror.
“You… used my card for an ice cream?” His voice was calm, but the disbelief was clear. You simply nodded and handed the card back, licking your spoon. For a moment, he was speechless, until his lips curved into an amused sigh. “I give you the world, and you ask only for a spoonful of sugar.” he said softly, shaking his head.
Vil moved closer, brushing a bit of melted ice cream from your chin with a tissue. “Still, you look content.” he murmured, his tone warm. “I said you should spoil yourself, but perhaps you already did, in your own way. Next time, let me teach you what true luxury feels like.”
۶ৎ Idia Shroud
When you asked for his card, Idia almost glitched on the spot. “Wait, you actually want me to pay for something?!” His face turned crimson as he fumbled with his wallet to get his card, handing it over immediately while muttering something about how he had been wanting to spoil you anyway. “Sure. go wild, I guess…” His mind ran wild with anxious excitement, imagining you spending a lot, he did not care, he just wanted you to be happy. He sat there later, imagining you buying gaming merchandise, tech, or something cool. But when you came back with just an ice cream cone, he blinked in disbelief.
“That’s it? You… only bought that?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. You nodded, smiling softly. Idia flared in embarrassment as he groaned, “You’re supposed to let me spoil you, not save my credits!”
He trailed off, then sighed, a faint smile forming. “You’re kinda ridiculous.” he said, though his voice had softened completely. “But… that’s what makes you adorable.” He looked away quickly, adding under his breath, “Next time, I’m ordering for you, no arguments.”
۶ৎ Malleus Draconia
When you asked for his card, Malleus looked pleased, his emerald eyes lighting up with quiet delight. He had been wishing for a chance to give you anything you desired, to see you bask in comfort, to see you enjoy the luxuries he could easily offer. “So, you have finally decided to indulge yourself? Buy anything that pleases you, my beloved. I want you to get whatever your heart desires.” he said softly, placing the card in your hand with full sincerity. He expected perhaps a trinket of value, or maybe something you had long desired. When you returned, happily eating a cone of ice cream, he blinked in surprise.
“That's what you bought?” he asked, puzzled but amused. “Ice cream?” You nodded, explaining simply that you were craving it. Malleus blinked once, then softly laughed, genuine. “You are truly curious.” he murmured, shaking his head in wonder.
He leaned closer, eyes fond. “Of all things you could have chosen, you picked something so small… yet it seems to bring you great joy.” His lips curved faintly as he brushed a thumb against your cheek. “Very well. If this small thing makes you happy, then I am content. But next time, allow me to spoil you properly.”
⸝⸝ lmao, this draft has been rotting in my notes. I just finished it this week during my free time and polished it yesterday, but I fell asleep before I could post it.
Oh my god that would wreck him. Grinding down your hips against his as you have him trapped against the wall of your room, shivering when your sex brushes against his when you grind down again, his face so red as his clawed fingers grip your waist like a lifeline, his own hips shaking and twitching as he lets out small, breathless noises of your name.
Get on your knees, take out his cock, put your index fingers pad on his cock's slit, and chuckle at how, "look at your dick, so needy and dripping pre already," his eyes widen, his heart beat through the roof as he shivers, his clawed hands digging into the wall enough to leave multiple cracks, "such a needy boy," and oh his dick twitches and shivers, you wrap your fingers around his dick and give a lick to his tip and make a suprised sound as his cock throbs once, twice and spills cum all over your face. He can't even look at your face anymore, the cracks on the walls multipled, his body shaking like he's feverish as his chest heaves.
Blood of Zeus Fic - Zeus x Female Reader x Poseidon
Warnings - NSFW. Adult situations. 18+ Only.
Image from google.
Same Reader from “Tasting Lightning” and “Golden Threads” (she’s been busy! hehe) I have nobody to blame but myself for this one because I thought of the pun and ran with it :D
-
The celebrations were well underway.
If there was one thing the Olympians knew how to do, it was throw a party. Wine flowed freely from the elaborate fountains around the courtyard (Dionysus never missed a chance to show off that particular party trick) with music and laughter filling the air with an overall feeling of revelry.
But there was something else. Maybe it was Aphrodite working her magic but the air felt charged, and You knew very few beds would be empty tonight. Apollo was with Hyacinth among a group of nymphs, the enticing grin he flashed you making it clear you were more than welcome. Aphrodite played with your hair, her hand lightly brushing your thigh under the dinner table. Persephone laughed and leaned against you just a little longer than necessary, Hades’s watchful eyes curious, his smile secretive. Zeus’s eyes met yours over a glass of ambrosia, a playful wink and subtle glance towards the stairs leading out of the courtyard. You were certainly spoiled for choice.
Apollo: "Ah, Hermes. I wasn't expecting you here."
Hermes: "I could say the same to you. Where is--?"
Reader: "Ah, there you both are. Thank you for arriving at such short notice. I require your assistance in a...delicate matter."
Hermes: "So you asked Apollo?"
Apollo: *elbowing Hermes* "Always happy to assist, my dear. What do you need exactly? I thought you'd be distracted with Hera trying to marry you off."
Reader: "It's about that, actually. I would like to have sex with you both."
Hermes: "...."
Apollo: "...."
Hermes: "...pardon?"
Reader: "Hera is pressing me to marry Ares. I don't particularly want to, and if she catches me in bed with the two of you, she won't either. Everybody wins, yes?"
Apollo: "....her logic is flawless, Hermes--"
Hermes: "Apollo!"
Apollo: "I mean... *clears throat* "My dear, as...enticing an offer as that is, I don't think--"
Reader: *starts walking towards the bedroom*
Apollo: "...Hermes, talk me out of this."
Hermes: "It will infuriate Ares and Hera."
Apollo: *striding after Reader, tugging Hermes along* "Damn it, I said talk me out of it!"
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