#(( stop thinking about it. its fine. its all fine.

[hoshifighting]

Hiiii !! First of all tysm for all the fics you’ve put out! I honestly don’t know how you write them so fast 😭 secondly, I’ve been thinking about this so much so when I saw your requests were open again I got so excited to see if you had any opinions! How do you think the Svt members would react if you told them to say “please”/ ask nicely before they could cum?

I know you have so many requests coming in so I hope you’re taking care of yourself and having fun writing these!

svt reaction to you telling them to say “please”/ask nicely before they could cum

WARNINGS: smut, begging, svt desperate to cum ❤️🩹🗣

seungcheol: his pride is imediatelly gone and its almost funny. he’s groaning “please, please, I’ll do anything, baby, just let me cum.” gripping the sheets, thrusting up into your hand, so fucking close that he’s almost whining. if you tease him a little more, he’ll actually beg louder “fuck, I’m begging you—please let me.”

jeonghan: at first, he’s trying to smirk through it, pretending he’s unaffected: “oh, you think I’ll beg for you?” (he will). the minute you slow down or stop, he’s groaning and grinding against you like, “fine, fuck, please—please let me cum, baby.”

joshua: he wants to keep his composure, but his body’s backstabbing him. he’s thrusting into your hand, breathing hard through his nose, trying to hold back, until he’s finally gasping “fine, fine, please, I’ll beg if that’s what you want—just let me cum.”

jun: he’s squirming like crazy, trying to resist. but you can see the moment he breaks—his whole body’s trembling, and he finally whispers “please, baby, I need it—please.”

hoshi: instant panic. he’s gasping out, “please, I’ll be so good, I’ll do anything you want—just let me.” he’s holding onto you for dear life, all wide-eyed and desperate. if you don’t let him right away, he’ll legit cry, moaning your name in between pleases like he’s praying to you.

wonwoo: the silent sufferer. he’s biting his lip so hard it might bleed, glaring at you like he’s daring you to make him beg. but when you edge him for the third time, his voice cracks “fuck, please—please just let me finish.”

woozi: this man is STUBBORN. at first, he’s glaring at you, biting his lip like he can hold out forever. but when you keep teasing him, he’s growling under his breath “haah—! fuck, okay—please, just let me finish, I can’t take it anymore.”

minghao: you’re testing his patience, and he hates losing. he’s shaking his head at first, lips tight, but when you keep teasing him, he’s hissing “you’re so cruel. fine—please, just let me cum.”

soekmin: likes it when you’re mean to him. he’s smiling through his whines, “please, baby, I know you wanna hear me beg—just let me cum, I’ll be so good for you.” if you keep teasing him, he’s GIGGLING because he lowkey loves it.

mingyu: he’s too whipped for you to pretend he wouldn’t enjoy being edged and begging for permission. he’d say please a hundred times if it meant you’d let him finish.

seungkwan: this man can talk, and it’s all spilling out at once. “please, I’m begging, I’ll be so good—fuck, I’ll never do anything to piss you off again, I promise, just let me cum, PLEASE.” he’s pulling out all the stops, saying whatever he thinks will convince you. 10/10, most affected.

vernon: he’s so conflicted. you can see the internal battle written all over his face. he starts off quiet, breathing hard, refusing to speak—until you slow down and he panics “wait, wait, okay—please, I’ll say whatever you want, just don’t stop.”

chan: his pride lasts for like… ten seconds. he’s trying to play it cool, but when he feels you tighten or slow down, he’s crying. bonus: if you’re extra mean, he’ll choke out an apology for being so stubborn.

[mattysketchup]

nerd!matt giving brat!reader head

100 follower special !!

warnings… oral (f receiving), matt the munch, soft dom!matt, swearing, slight degrading, hair pulling?, edging, pet names

my first actual smut fic, mb if its ass but enjoy

(masterlist)

“so if a dataset has a mean of 50 and a standard deviation of 5, what percentage of the data falls within one standard deviation of the mean?” matt asks.

you groan as you fling your head back. “matt c’mon, we’re not gettin’ anywhere with this”

“alright jus’ this one question.” matt says as he acknowledges your whines. matt was smart, like really smart, and it was noticeable to anybody who saw him.

the collared shirt, big glasses, and the awkward persona were enough to give it away.

“matt” you complain. “we’ve been at this for hours… can we just wrap it up? my brain isnt working anymore.”

“c’mon sweetheart…just a couple more questions, we’ve almost finished reviewing this unit.” he said, trying to get you to cram for your exam tomorrow.

“ugh fine. one more question” you say, only agreeing because, truly, how could you say no to him?

minutes pass and all you begin to think about is the growing heat between your legs.

you uncomfortably try to adjust your legs to make it stop, but nothing works. you start to zone out, your mind racing with all the things the man in front of you should be doing.

sure, you’ve noticed how stunning matt is, i mean you are “dating” him.

you look around his dorm to try and find anything else to focus on.

but his messy hair, shirt pulled up to see his veiny arms, and the raspy voice were enough to make a woman go wild.

“hellooo? y/n?” matt calls, causing you to snap out of your trance. “hey?” you respond.

“i asked you a question- you’re not listening are you.” he realizes.

“matt ‘m sorry, but i just don’t understand this and i’m so tired” you whine.

“sweetheart, you have your exams tomorrow. if you don’t revise and study you won’t do your best on it.” he warns.

he knew you weren’t the smartest person, well at least not compared to him, but he knew that it was probably your daddy’s money that got you a spot at a prestigious university.

“just two more-” he starts, but notices the pout on your face and your crossed legs and chuckles.

“oh sweetheart, you couldn’t even wait ten minutes for us to finish this?” he says, mumbling a small ‘pathetic’ before moving closer to you.

“please matt” you whine.

“please what?” he smiles, his hand on your knee.

“pl-please touch me” you pout, knowing he wasn’t going to give in that easily.

“oh, you poor thing” he coos with faux sympathy laced on his tongue.

he rubs a hand up and down your knee, your plaid skirt you wore to tease him now sliding up your thighs.

“fuck- matt don’t tease…” you mewl, your arousal now practically dripping in between your legs.

he smirked at you, loving the way you reacted to the slightest touch and the simplest of words.

“take this off f’me, yeah?” he basically whispers, running his hand over your skirt.

you do just that as he points over to the bed. “sit” he commands.

you’re now sitting at the edge of the bed in your baby blue lingerie, waiting for matt to touch you.

he gets down on his knees, slowly kissing your now slightly shaking thighs.

your pussy aches for this man, wanting him to just touch you.

he slowly takes off your panties, disregarding them on the floor as he softly spreads open your legs.

he wraps your thighs around his head, looking up at you with those submissive ass eyes.

“matt- please i need you” you beg, your fingers intertwined in his brown locks.

he smiles at the amount of power he has over you, kissing your pussy before slowly licking your clit.

you slightly moan at the sudden pleasure, your mouth agape.

he continues this subtle yet effective movement, earning more and more moans from you.

he begins to lap his tongue around your hole, causing you to grab his hair.

his tongue moves faster and faster as your hips buck against his tongue.

“y’like that sweetie?” matt asks, moving his tongue faster (if possible.)

“oh fuck- yes matt” you whine, your brain foggy. “m’gonna cum”

“ah ah ah” he tuts, stopping his movements. “i’ll tell you when you can come doll”

this only made you whine more, since you were used to getting your way.

“f-fuck matt… i can’t take it” “oh but yes you can doll. you practically begged for it, you’re gonna take it.” he commands.

you were a moaning mess on his bed. eyes rolled to the back of your head, legs shaking, and your hands gripping at matts hair in an attempt to make him go faster.

“h-holy shit” you moan. “please i need to cum”

“hmm… have you been good?” he asks.

“yes… please matt” you groan.

“atta girl, cum on my tongue babydoll” matt’s words, tongue, hands travelling your body, and piercing blue eyes were enough to send you over the edge.

you felt your body relax and the knot in your stomach snap as you released your arousal on his tongue.

“this gonna help you ace your exam tomorrow?” matt asks jokingly, as you playfully smack his shoulder.

tessa’s notes… THANK YOU ALL FOR 100 FOLLOWERS !!! i truly didn’t know how fast i could grow over the span of 3 months, but you all made it happen and i’m so grateful for every single one of you💋. guys i literally HATEEE writing smut so i do apologize if it’s terrible, js wanted to try smth different to express my gratitude for all of you !!!

[always-just-red]

hello <3 could you do number 18 on the prompt list for rafayel or sylus? I just read no.15 that you did and i love your writing style

Hey! And aww thank you so much! I opted for Sylus for this one, hope you enjoy! 🥰💕

Snow Angels

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Prompt #018: falling into soft snow to create snow angels, flailing wildly on the ground.

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, some mutual bullying (but it comes from a place of love 😌)

| Word count: 1.3k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus doesn’t know why you would want to kill him, and he’s running out of time to figure it out.

You walk beside him solemnly, snow crunching beneath your boots while the bitter breeze plays with the upturned collar of your coat. When your lips part every so often— to release a particularly heavy breath— it looks like smoke from a fire he wouldn’t mind burning in. Cold and crystalline. Warm. The warmest thing in these white, wintery woods.

He glances around the skeletal trees, all gilded with silver. It isn’t bad, as final resting places go.

You haven’t said a word for ten minutes.

You stop, fatefully.

It’s time, then, is it? Sylus stops too, letting out his own billow of frosted breath. His hands are buried deep in his coat pockets. He’s been wondering how he got here, ever since the two of you started this morbid little march together. Was it that stunt he pulled at Association Headquarters last week? When he paid you a surprise visit, bundled in a hat and an absurdly long scarf, which was not (you lectured, as you escorted him from the building) cute, funny, or an even passable disguise.

It might have been the arcade. Two days ago. You’d asked for— what was it? — some crow that was somehow different from the two dozen others you’ve amassed between you. He’d won it, hadn’t he? Except no, it was the wrong one, you wanted that one, the one that was— oh forget it, Sylus. This one is fine, too.

Maybe it wasn’t fine. One wrong plushie too far, and you’ve finally snapped. Somewhere above where the two of you are standing, Mephisto caws, as if to add to the suspense. He’s always had a penchant for theatre.

“It’s pretty here, isn’t it?” you say, gazing out over your surroundings, and you must like theatre as well.

“Mmm,” Sylus agrees vaguely. He’s thinking about how preventable this all was.

“Is that Mephisto over there?” you ask, pointing. “Is he in trouble?”

You’re lying through near-chattering teeth, pointing at nothing, and he doesn’t need to look to know it. Mephisto is still perched overhead, betraying your bluff, and you haven’t even noticed. Oh, the irony. Sylus is going to die here because he can’t tell an ultra-rare crow plush from its common subspecies, but you? You couldn’t pick Mephisto out in a field full of gulls, let alone other crows.

You’ve made your feint, though. A distraction: the opening for that knockout punch you’ve been fantasising about throughout the course of this entirely innocent, not-at-all suspicious hike.

He turns, anyway— red eyes following the line of your finger through the white of the woods— and awaits his execution.

Waiting.

Waiting.

You shove him with all of your might, and it…

… Doesn’t move him. Not even an inch.

Your profession is death-dealing, your world is dangerous. Never once has Sylus doubted your ability to survive it, conquer it, walk from the bones of it like its rightful sovereign, but that faith collapses beneath one simple question:

Is that it?

He turns back to you in disbelief, mouth threatening to grin. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Your eyes are wide with guilt and a similar shock. “It was… I mean, it was just…” You give up. “Ugh, you ruin everything! How the hell are you so strong?”

“Born with it, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles— what a stupid question. “How are you so weak?”

“I’m not weak!”

He lifts an eyebrow. “I thought the breeze had picked up. Perhaps a falling leaf had struck me, or a—”

“Shut up!” You stoop, collecting and launching a handful of snow at him, but most of it falls short. “Just shut up, okay?”

You’re actually disappointed? Sylus casually brushes away the little snow that had reached him and dusted the black of his coat. He’s not sure what you expected from a single shove and a half-assed snowball. If you wanted to do this properly, you’d have at least brought a gun.

Still. “Push me again,” he says with a smirk, because look at you: you’re really worked up about this, huh?

You frown at first, but then your disappointment goes like morning frost, kissed by sunlight. Your lips curve with his favourite smile. With your eyes ablaze, you push him again.

He doesn’t fall slowly; he drops.

“Ha!” you exclaim with a gleeful cackle, shockingly free from concern as he lies in the thick snow, thinking he maybe overcommitted to his descent. His body might ache if it wasn’t already going numb from the cold. His eyes are closed. New flakes of snow are settling on him, trying to bury him, but it’ll take much, much more than that.

Mephisto caws above like he’s in mourning.

“Happy, sweetie?” Sylus enquires, opening one eye. A dead man in a play, peeking to see if the curtain’s come down yet so he can finally move.

Instead of answering, you throw yourself down in the snow beside him with a shriek of delight. The snow is so high around his face that he can barely see you. He hears you moving: dragging the snow back and forth with flailing limbs. “Make a snow angel with me, Sy!” Is that what that is? You look like baby turtle, flipped on its shell. “Come on! It looks so cute when they do it in the movies!”

“Cute?” he mimics, unimpressed.

“Romantic,” you offer up instead, and sure enough— with a groan of lament— the leader of Onychinus starts to move his arms and legs. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Mephisto is cawing with more enthusiasm, and it sounds an awful lot like your cackle. Thankfully, the sound is easy to forget with all the swooshing, crunching snow. Sylus can’t feel his hands or his feet, but he’ll never hear the end of it if he gives out first.

Eventually, you go still. No more swooshing or crunching. Mephisto is silent. Sylus goes still, too.

“Sy?” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

“…I’m cold.”

He scoffs, sitting up and shaking his head to dislodge the snow that’s clinging to his hair and back. With another groan, he gets himself to his feet. Looks down at you lying there, staring up at the sky like you’re full of regret. He is also cold, and he’s had his fill of ‘romantic’, so he scoops you up and shrugs you over his shoulder as you squeak with surprise.

You’re facing the wrong way. You can’t see the snow angels, but he can.

“How do they look?” you ask.  

His head slants slightly. Snow ‘angels’ is a stretch. They look like… he doesn’t know what, actually. One is bigger than the other. In the middle, their wings almost meet where your fingers must have almost brushed. He smiles, his free hand drawing his phone from his pocket so he can snap a quick picture.

“Sylus.” You sound impatient. “Cold, remember?”

He chuckles; you are demanding. “Want me to warm you up, kitten?” His phone is away, his hand is on the back of your leg, and you slap at him half-heartedly. It just makes him chuckle more.

“Can’t get the right plushie from the stupid claw machine and now you’re mocking me,” you grumble. Sylus smiles to himself before you continue: “awful at claw machine, awful at letting me ambush you, awful at—”

This could be going on for a while, so Sylus turns, set on carrying you back.

“Awful at singing!” you’ve somehow gotten to.

He stops walking and oh— would you look at that! There's another snow drift nearby: so plain, so pristine.

It could really use a snow angel, and he has the perfect one in mind.

[gothghostiie]

babysitter!reader chronicles continue because I babysat the whole weekend and obviously cannot catch a break

cw: comfort, reader has a strong reaction to things breaking, gn!reader

thinking about price being gone overnight, having you sleep over so he doesn't stress about coming home. he knows you don't mind sleeping on his couch and he knows his little munchkin is safe with you. you get to spend the morning with the baby who decided to wake up extra early, making some easy breakfast for both of you, hanging out the whole day, it's routine by now. in the afternoon you make a snack and decide to make some tea for both of you - the little one definitely got it's love for tea from John.

It's all good and well, until you have to put the infant down for a second to fill the electric kettle with water. you put it right next to the sink and put the little one down, telling them that they'll be right back in your arms, just let you boil the water. the baby coos as you stand up and turn around: just to be met with the sounds of crashing and clattering, and with the sight of glass shards. you immediately pick up the baby and stumble back, eyes wide as you try to process what the fuck just happened, your heart racing and your hands shaking. you have to do everything in your power to not let out a string of courses as you look at the broken kettle, trying to figure out what to do.

you decide the best course is put the baby to the safety of it's high chair while you pick up the big shards, it goes just fine until you grab the vacuum cleaner to get the small shards. the baby starts fussing, making grabby hands at you, your heart clenches. so now you're vacuuming, baby on your hip, holding on tightly. its all fine until you put the vacuum cleaner away and have a moment to gather your thoughts, the waterworks start flowing big time.

you try your hardest to hold back as you make the tea and the food, sniffling while the occasional sob falls from your lips. the baby keeps looking at you confused, touching your face and tilting their head, babbling softly as if trying to ask why you're crying. you just keep a hold of them and try to smile at them, sitting down to eat with them as you try to figure out how to tell John you broke his electric kettle.

tears are still flowing as you type out a text, not brave enough to tell him face to face. you almost wanna throw your phone out after the text is sent, but you just put it into your pocket. you distract yourself with housework, with the baby, still occasionally tearing up, when your phone vibrates.

its a simple message from John; 'be home soon.'

you can feel the nausea rise in your belly, hands trembling again as your mind goes a mile a minute. he didn't even say anything to you telling him the kettle broke, just that he's home soon. your head goes from anything to you're being fired to you'll end up never being allowed around any child ever. you try your hardest to distract yourself, cleaning up a last time before putting on a kids' movie and sitting on the couch with the baby. you're fidgeting with your fingers, you're nervous, anxious, almost near tears - your heart stops when you hear the keys jingle in the door. you freeze up, glancing at him from your place on the couch as he walks in, boots thudding heavy on the floor. he stretches with a groan, putting down his bag and hanging up his jacket before making his way over to the two of you. he stops right in front of you, arms crossed as he bends down - just to coo at his baby.

"there's my little angel, missed me?" he smiles softly, but quickly frowns as he seed the expression on your face. he knits his brows, staying leaned down to the two of you. "hey, whats the matter? you look like a kicked puppy, love." he chuckles gently, trying to coax a smile out of you, but it doesn't work. you look down at the yawning baby, grabbing at John's arms, wanting to be held.

you mumble another apology, causing him to huff in confusion before it dawns on him. "love, this isn't about the broken kettle, is it?" he asks, sighing softly as you keep quiet. he finally picks up the cooing baby, it immediately nuzzles into him. "wait here." he mutters softly, putting the sleepy baby down for a nap in the nursery before coming back to you. his arms are crossed, hes frowning, you barely even look at him; not even when he sits down next to you. "c'mere, bird." he murmurs, patting the side of his thigh, lifting his arm.

your eyes widen a bit, you hesitate before scooting closer. a strong arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. "there there. you're okay love, it's alright." he says softly, quietly, as if talking to his little one. "there's no need to be scared, yea? I'm not angry." you glance up at him, still unsure. he kisses your head gently. "it's just a kettle. I'll get a new one tomorrow." his strong hand keeps a hold of your arm, caging you against his side, the other resting on your knee with the thumb rubbing gentle circles.

you mutter another apology as tears threaten to spill again, he shushes you gently. "no, no. none of that. and no tears either, bird. its okay. these things happen." he holds you tighter, soothing you gently as you nod. he holds you like this until he feels the tension in your body lessen, finally accepting his words and that he's not mad. he presses another kiss onto your head.

"just do me a favour next time.." he hums, his tone teasing as he bites back a chuckle. "if you don't like my kettle, tell me. no need to break it.

[strwbrychffoncke]

"won't you stop with that look on your face?,, 2k words synopsis: zayne & caleb taking care of you..... contains: lnds zayne + caleb x f!reader (she/her used ,mc!coded) ,sick!reader ,worried!caleb ,doctor!zayne moment ,bickering (zayne + caleb) ,one use of "gege" ,you bicker w caleb ,caleb makes u tea ,kinda smug!zayne at the end ,v annoyed caleb LOL ,i think thats it note: (not edited!) another late night braindump of mine (short n sweet this time cause i started falling asleep while writing it lol??) this can be read as a sequel to "baby ,i care for you,, but can also be read by itself :x

-

the door to your cozy home doesn't allow more than three knocks to resound through the hardwood before its swung open for the guest by a certain impatient pilot.

"took you long enough," he frowns at the man standing at the entrance.

"apologies, i still had one last round of check-ins and was in the middle of handling some paperwork when you called. how is she?"

caleb sidesteps from the entrance as zayne maneuvers past him, letting himself inside the familiar home, slipping off his shoes at the doorway. caleb shuts the door before whirling around towards the indifferent doctor.

"in her room, where i've been taking good care of her the past couple of days."

caleb's voice is filled with pride as he leads zayne down the hall (not that he didn't know where it was already after so many years), filling the doctor both wild mild irritation and exasperation.

"you say that, yet you're the one who yelled at me to make a home visit to check on her."

caleb scoffs as they both arrive at your door, caleb gently pushing it open and entering with zayne following close behind.

you're sitting up in bed, sipping on some water when the two men from your childhood walk in, causing you to perk up as much as you can in your fatigued state.

caleb approaches the bed first, mattress dipping as he takes back his seat on the edge where he'd been accompanying you before, patting your head as you recap the bottle.

"doctor's here, finally" he mutters the last word but you catch it, causing a pleasant laugh to bubble up, the sound easing both men's concern for you, if even just slightly.

zayne approaches from the other side, assessing your condition from what he can see- immediately noticing your slightly-shivering form despite the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and comforter scrunched in your lap- before reaching a hand out to lay across your forehead to check your temperature.

"how are you feeling?"

his deep voice is soft, especially soothing to you that you know you could drift off easily if he continued speaking.

"i'm okay, really" you peer up at him, throat still slightly scratchy as you're still recovering from the initial soreness from a few days prior. "gege's just overreacting," you tease, reassuring smile making zayne crack a grin.

"i'm not- you're not fine!" caleb insists before turning to zayne.

"she's been sick for almost a week now, a week! that's way too long!"

"you seem to have a mild fever," zayne tells you, drawing his hand back, continuing to assess your physical condition before he responds to the agitated pilot.

"did you forget that, for how little she falls ill, this is usually the standard?"

his soft touches travel down your neck to your shoulders and down your arms, checking for any discomfort as he continues.

"shouldn't you, of all people, know that the best?"

caleb grits his teeth at the doctor's jab as he watches his hands examine you, looking at the way your shallow breaths escape your parted lips as you glance between the two.

you're only listening to their bickering, but you're too tired to think about intervening right now.

"of course i do, but when she's had an ongoing fever the whole time with congestion, and now a cough with headache and body aches when it first started as a sore throat, do you expect me not to worry?" he spits, pointed gaze aimed straight at zayne.

"it hasn't broken at all?" he looks up at you for an answer.

you're about to speak when caleb answers for you.

"no!"

zayne hums, unraveling the stethoscope from his neck, placing the earpieces in place before sliding the cool metal down your shirt, a small apology escaping him as you shudder at the feeling before checking your heartbeat.

"but it hasn't been consistent in temperature, correct?"

"nope."

zayne urges you to take a deep breath.

"its simply an indication that her body is having some difficulty fighting off the illness. since its gradually gotten better, i wouldn't say its something to worry about."

he moves the stethoscope, urging another deep breath from you.

"but-"

"in any case, for how good her immune system is at keeping her healthy, the drawback is that her body is quite vulnerable when sickness comes, so it usually lasts longer."

he moves the metal to your back to check once more, asking for one more deep breath.

"i understand your worry since her condition worsened before improving. but most of the symptoms have subsided, yes?" he's looking at you again when he asks this, and this time, caleb lets you answer.

you nod quickly before responding properly.

"yes! i had a headache when i woke up today, but it went away really quickly. otherwise, my cough has gotten better, and i'm still struggling with congestion," you unconsciously sniffle, driving your point. "i guess i've still been a little tired too? but i'm feeling much better than before!"

satisfied with his findings of everything being normal and reassured by your own words, zayne smiles down at you before withdrawing the stethoscope, turning his gaze to caleb fully once more.

"i thought you knew her better than anyone, why make a fuss about it all of a sudden?"

caleb's eyes narrow at the jab.

he's doing it on purpose.

"because, she-"

your harsh coughs halt their conversation, sleeved arm coming up to cover your mouth as both men's heads snap towards you.

the coughing fit is gone as quickly as it came, and thats when you notice their concerned gazes boring into you.

"don't you think that cough sounds pretty bad, doctor?"

"it's nothing extreme. you're taking medicine for it, yes?"

you nod.

"yeah," caleb pipes up, jabbing a thumb into his chest before continuing. "i've been giving her medicine for her throat, fevers, and even allergy medicine this entire time."

"he made me take so many pills... save me, zayne~" you sulk up at him; he gives a fond look in return.

"hey, it was for your own good!"

"you tried to feed me six different pills at once!"

"maybe because you needed all of them! do you really expect me to believe you would have taken any medicine on your own?"

zayne sighs at the two of you

just like usual. some things never change...

you huff out a breath, pout adorning your face.

"caleb?"

"hm? yeah?" he perks up, eyes glued to you awaiting your next words.

"can you make me some tea?"

"anything in particular?"

"chamomile?"

"sure thing, i'll be right back," he ruffled your hair again, side eyeing zayne as he passes him before he's out the door.

you let out a sigh, and zayne's eyes are locked onto yours.

"sorry to make you come out here, you must be tired," your words are remorseful, feeling guilty for, in a sense, making him work overtime.

"i told caleb i was fine, but he wouldn't listen. he was actually upset with me at first since i didn't tell him i was sick and had to find out himself when he came home and saw me," you share bashfully, thinking back to his worried expression and stern tone.

"well, i can understand him a bit," zayne's eyes drape over your bundled figure. "a certain hunter likes to think they're invincible, and isn't exactly the best at looking over their health."

"hey! i did take medicine the first two days, y'know?"

"did you take them consistently?"

crap, he got you there.

"well..."

"figures."

"you're so mean!" you whine, but the doctor only chuckles.

"well, if you're saying this, then i have no doubt you'll be fully recovered in another couple of days."

at that moment, caleb steps back in with a slightly steaming mug in hand, slowly walking over the the free side of the bed to hand it to you.

"here you are, pipsqueak, just the way you like it!"

"thank youuu," you smile, reaching out to grip the mug with both hands.

"careful, it may still be a little hot."

you nod, allowing the warmth seeping through the mug to warm your hands before taking a small sip.

a little sigh of relief escapes you, and the three of you engage in quiet conversation, neither man wanting to leave your side quite yet despite knowing that you were completely okay.

-

its later in the evening, your tea long finished, using the last remnants of it to wash down some medicine administered by caleb (who had nudged you before you drifted off, not letting you sleep until you took the medicine for your own good he repeated as you washed them down with the still-warm tea).

after that, it didn't take long for you to doze off to the hushed voices of your two favorite people, breaths evening out as you floated off into the land of dreams.

its silent for awhile after that, two pairs of eyes watching over you when caleb suddenly turns towards zayne.

"so? she's really fine?"

zayne's eyes drift towards the source of the voice.

"yes, so long as she keeps taking her medicine, she'll continue recovering well," he adjusts his glasses before continuing. "and anyway, from the looks of it she just seems to have caught a bad cold. the symptoms can last for a week or so; its really nothing to worry about."

caleb lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

what a relief.

zayne, figuring its about time to go home himself, stands from his spot, checking that he has everything on him when he speaks up again.

"its not the first time she's gotten sick like this. why were you so worried this time?"

caleb thinks for a long moment before settling on his answer.

"seeing her so weak and tired was just so..." he trails off, eyes taking on a distant look in them. "it'd just been awhile. even if i knew she would be fine, it was just.."

zayne nods, understanding crossing his features.

"i know what you mean." he glances over at your peaceful slumbering figure once again. "at least she had you to take care of her. who knows what her condition may be if she were left alone like this?"

caleb clicks his tongue at the thought.

"terrible, that's for sure. she really can't be trusted to take care of herself, especially not when she's sick."

"i'll be on my way now. even though the chances are low, if anything changes, don't hesitate to call me."

"sure," caleb nods, standing from his spot as well as he begins walking zayne to the door.

"thanks for coming over and checking her out."

"its no problem, it puts my own mind at ease as well."

zayne slips on his shoes before speaking up again.

"i'll check back in tomorrow. try not to fuss to much until then."

"ha-ha, whatever you say, doctor zayne."

"and next time, maybe don't yell so loudly through the line. i was momentarily concerned for my eardrums, and it certainly couldn't have been good for her headaches."

caleb feels irritation replacing the gratitude he'd felt just moments ago.

"sure, i'll keep that in mind."

zayne adjusts his sleeves before speaking again.

"though, since you know her best, i'm sure you could figure out what's good for her and what isn't, especially when she's like this."

the faintest smirk curls on the edge of zayne's lips at the growing scowl on caleb's face.

"you-!"

"well then, i'll see you in the morning. goodnight."

zayne's exit is curt as he exits through the door, all too satisfied at the reactions he drew out of caleb.

on the other hand, the deepspace pilot wanted to yell in frustration (though, managed to refrain from doing so at the reminder that you were fast asleep just a few doors down).

instead, only an annoyed groan escapes his throat as he clenches his fists, one singular thought circulating his mind:

that guy was really so annoying!

-

a/n: almost completely recovered ,this idea came to me after seeing sm posts ab zayne/caleb beef or everyone hoping that their beef would be crazy LOL -

[memorabxlia]

All I Want for Christmas Is You ━ 홍중

genre: fluff (just a tad), smut summary: after getting stranded in your car during a winter storm with Hongjoong, you find other means to pass the time warnings: est relationship, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), car sex (defintely forgot something) pairing: nonidol!hongjoong x fem!reader wc: 1.9k a/n: DAY 4!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The wind howled outside, slamming against the windows of your car like a wild animal trying to break in. Snowflakes swirled in chaotic spirals, obscuring the road ahead and coating everything in a thick blanket of white. You tugged your coat tighter around you, but it was no use—the cold had already seeped into your bones. The heater sputtered weakly, barely holding its own against the storm.

“Hongjoong,” you murmured, your teeth chattering as you glanced at him in the driver’s seat. His hands were still gripping the wheel, even though the car hadn’t moved in what felt like hours. “How long do you think we’re going to be stuck here?”

He exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the frigid air. “I don’t know. The tow truck said they’d come as soon as they could, but…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the windshield. “This isn’t exactly ideal weather for rescuing stranded idiots.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Speak for yourself. You’re the one who thought driving through this was a good idea.”

Hongjoong shot you a look, his dark brows knitting together in mock offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault? Remind me again who begged to stop for ‘just one more coffee’ before we left?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the grin tugging at his lips stopped you. Even in the middle of a snowstorm, half-frozen and completely stranded, he had a way of making you forget everything else. Your fiancé’s sharp features were softened by the dim glow of the dashboard lights, his black hair tousled from running his fingers through it in frustration. His leather jacket clung to his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but notice how the faint sheen of sweat on his skin caught the light.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling warmer than you had a moment ago. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m partially to blame.”

“Partially?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. His voice dropped, low and teasing. “Try fully.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing now. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the tension thickening like the snow piling up outside. You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re such a brat, you know that?”

His smirk widened, and before you could react, he caught your hand in his. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “And yet, here you are. Stuck with me.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside faded away, leaving only the sound of your breathing and the faint thrum of the engine. Hongjoong’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you felt a familiar heat stir deep within you. It wasn’t just the cold making you shiver anymore.

“You’re staring,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm.

“So are you,” he countered, his thumb tracing slow circles on your palm. His touch was maddening, deliberate and unhurried, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “What are you thinking about?”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “That maybe… we should find a way to pass the time.”

“Oh?” His eyes darkened, and his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “And what did you have in mind?”

You didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you leaned in, closing the gap between you until your lips were just a breath apart. Hongjoong’s sharp intake of air was the only warning you got before he closed the distance, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.

It was all fire and need, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin. One of his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the other found your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your jeans. You gasped into his mouth, your hands flying to his chest to steady yourself, but that only seemed to spur him on. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “Tell me what you want,” before reclaiming your lips with a fierceness that left you breathless.

Your mind raced, torn between the rational part of you that knew this was madness and the part that didn’t care. The storm raged on outside, but inside the car, the only thing that mattered was the way Hongjoong’s body pressed against yours, the way his touch set your skin ablaze.

“God, Hongjoong,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I want—”

Before you could finish, he cut you off with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl. His hands moved lower, slipping under the hem of your sweater to explore the bare skin underneath. The contrast between his warm palms and the icy air sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched into his touch with a soft moan.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, not when his lips were trailing kisses along your jaw, not when his hands were roaming your body with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. Instead, you let your actions speak for you, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until your hands met the hard planes of his chest. His skin was hot beneath your fingertips, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

Hongjoong groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you into his lap. The steering wheel dug into your back, but you barely noticed—not when his erection was pressing insistently against your thigh, not when his lips were skimming over the curve of your ear.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “That’s all for you.”

You whimpered, grinding against him instinctively. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. “Joong—”

“Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your pants. “Tell me you want this.”

You nodded frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pulled your jeans down just far enough to expose your wetness to the cold air. “Yes, yes, please—”

“Good girl,” he purred, his fingers slipping between your folds to tease you with maddening precision. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, as he added, “Now let me hear you.”

You arched into him, desperate for more friction, more heat, more of him. The car windows were fogged up from your ragged breaths, the world outside forgotten as the storm raged on. All that mattered was the way his fingers curled inside you, stroking just right to make your hips jerk uncontrollably.

“Joong—” you gasped, clutching at his arm. “I can’t—please—”

“Can’t what?” he taunted, his voice low and rough. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, and you moaned at the sensation. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open for him as he worked you relentlessly. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You whined, your head falling back against the seat as pleasure coiled tight in your core. “I need you,” you begged, your voice trembling. “I need you inside me, Joong—please.”

Hongjoong’s eyes darkened, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Since you asked so nicely…” He withdrew his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss, and shifted in the cramped space of the car. His hands fumbled with his belt buckle, the sound of it unbuckling sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

When he finally pushed down his jeans, freeing his hard length, you couldn’t help but reach for him. Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking lightly, and he hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck, you’re impatient,” he muttered, though the way his hips bucked into your touch betrayed his own desperation.

You smirked up at him, even as your pulse raced. “You like it.”

He growled, catching your wrist and pinning it above your head. “Careful,” he warned, his tone playful but edged with hunger. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly spoiled for space here. Thought you might appreciate me taking my time.”

You bit your lip, squirming under his hold. “Take your time later,” you urged, dragging your free hand down his chest. “Right now, I just need you.”

Hongjoong groaned, releasing your wrist to brace himself against the car seat. He positioned himself between your legs, his tip brushing against your slick entrance, and you shivered at the contact. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with concern despite the tension thick in the air.

You nodded, lifting your hips to meet his. “Yes,” you breathed. “I’m sure.”

With a low growl, he sank into you in one slow, torturous thrust. The stretch was exquisite, filling you completely, and you gasped out his name as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged as he fought to keep control.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Always so perfect for me.”

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move. The pace was steady at first, each stroke deep and deliberate, but it didn’t take long for his restraint to fracture. His thrusts grew faster, harder, the sound of skin against skin mixing with the howling wind outside. The car rocked slightly with the force of them, but neither of you cared.

Every nerve in your body was alight, every touch, every kiss, every word from his lips driving you closer to the edge. His mouth found yours again, kissing you hungrily as he fucked you with relentless intensity. You could feel the coil inside you tightening, winding tighter and tighter until—

“Joong, I’m close,” you panted, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. “Please—don’t stop—”

He chuckled darkly, slowing his pace just enough to drive you mad. “Beg for it,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me how much you want to come.”

You let out a frustrated whine, your hips jerking up to chase his. “Please, Joong, I need it—want to come for you—need you to make me—”

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand slipping between your bodies to circle your clit. His touch was electric, and combined with the way he filled you, it was too much. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking as you cried out his name.

Hongjoong swore under his breath, his own release hitting him hard. He buried himself deep inside you, his movements growing erratic as he followed you over the edge. For a moment, everything was quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the faint creak of the car settling.

He collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the seat, but you didn’t mind. His lips brushed against your neck, trailing lazy kisses as he murmured, “Told you we’d find a way to pass the time.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You were right,” you admitted, though your smile faded as you glanced out the fogged-up window. The storm showed no signs of letting up, and the thought of someone finding you both like this sent a rush of embarrassment through you. “What if—?”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, his tone reassuring. “We’ll hear them coming.” He kissed you again, slow and sweet, before adding with a mischievous grin, “Besides, I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath caught at the promise in his words, and before you could respond, his hands were already moving again, exploring, teasing. “Joong—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips tracing the curve of your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

❥﹒ ateez taglist: @casemoa143 @minkilicious @lice

[simmered2020]

I think that was my wife’s mistake: telling me she wanted me to accept and expect permanence. I was floored and upset. She said we’re not having vaginal sex anymore. No more fucking. No more stroking my cock. No more stamina at all. could pour out cum from my cage anytime, but no more twitching, no more spurting. She threatened to stop unlocking my penis from its cage to gently fondle me to the edge until I spilled out slowly. That had become sex for me. I didn’t want to give that up. She was fine if I lost erectile function or shrunk. I never did. She loved chastity and orgasm denial. It did good things to my brain. She’d never go back to play acting like my cock was important, and chided me for dreaming about having a big swinging dick. It was not important to her. My orgasms were not only unnecessary but undesirable. My mood and attitude after an orgasm was reliably poor. Letting me stroke my thick cock let me glorify it and act entitled. She never wanted me to be left alone with my penis naked of its cage again. She said she knew what was best for me. Chastity was integral to me now, and it was what was best for her. Let go

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation wc: 17k spotify playlist series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“What do you mean you’re just ‘giving up’?”

“Satoru, calm down.”

“Oh, calm down? You expect me to calm down when you’re just letting whoever threw all this shit on Y/N, my son just…free? You’re really not going to look harder?”

Satoru huffs in a frustrated manner, rubbing his hands through his hair, and messing up the silver locks. When he was called by his parents so early in the morning to come to their place, he thought he would’ve been greeted with good news. Any news. Not this. He not only feels immensely annoyed, but also thrown under the bus. But what else was supposed to expect from them? He’s pacing the living room, his parents standing off to the side and watching their only child try not to lose his shit. 

“Satoru, we’ve all looked into this. But whoever took that picture was smart, they knew how to stay hidden. We’ve done everything in power, son.” His mother tries to placate him, holding her hand out in an attempt to gently plant it on his forearm. 

He promptly pulls away before she makes contact, fixing his mother with an icy look, lip curled up slightly.

“How convenient,” Satoru snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The all-powerful Gojo family, with all its influence, resources, and connections, suddenly can’t find one person? Spare me.” His pacing becomes more erratic, his steps heavy as if each one is an outlet for his frustration. 

His father finally speaks, his tone sharp and commanding, “Enough, Satoru. You’re not the only one affected by this. We’ve handled the situation as best as we could without escalating it further. Do you even understand the damage control we’ve had to do?” 

“Damage control?” Satoru lets out a bitter laugh, stopping dead in his tracks to glare at his father. “You’re more worried about your reputation than your grandson’s safety, aren’t you? Or Y/N’s for that matter?” 

His father narrows his eyes, his voice lowering dangerously. “Watch your tone. You think we don’t care? Everything we’ve done has been to protect this family.” 

“Family?” Satoru scoffs, gesturing wildly. “If you cared so much about family, you wouldn’t just let this slide. You’d help me hunt them down, no matter what. But no, you’re just sweeping it under the rug like everything else, aren’t you?” 

His mother’s voice trembles slightly, though she tries to keep her composure. “Satoru, please try to understand—there’s only so much we can do without creating more chaos. We can’t act recklessly.”

“You mean I can’t act recklessly,” he mutters darkly, taking a step back from both of them. His jaw tightens as he looks between his parents, disgust and disappointment etched into his face. “You don’t get it. None of this is just about me anymore. It’s about Y/N and Koji. They didn’t ask for any of this, and now they’re the ones dealing with it.” 

His father sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you want us to do, Satoru? Tell me, what more can be done that hasn’t already been tried?” 

“I’ll handle it myself,” Satoru growls, the fire in his eyes blazing. “You won’t. Fine. But I will.” Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and storms toward the door. 

Yamato’s hand shoots out, gripping his son by the elbow and effectively holding him in place. Satoru turns his head over his shoulder, matching his father’s death glare with one of his own—only it looks…scarier. 

The silence is palpable—disturbing. Akane stands half way in the middle, unsure if she should stop this now or let Yamato deal with it—deal with their son. She worries her lip between her teeth, brows furrowed together. 

“Satoru,” Yamato’s voice is low, firm, but the underlying tension cuts through the room like a blade. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Satoru’s lips curl into a cold smirk, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t pull away, but his entire posture radiates defiance. “Oh, I know exactly who I’m talking to. The man who taught me that family comes second to pride. Let me go, Dad, before this gets uglier than it already is.”

Akane takes a hesitant step forward, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches out. “Yamato, please. Let him go. This isn’t the time to—”

“Stay out of this, Akane,” Yamato interrupts sharply, his focus never wavering from Satoru.

Satoru scoffs, the sound filled with disdain. “Of course. Can’t let Mom get in the way of the big, bad Gojo men, can we?” His tone drips with mockery, but his glare burns with genuine anger.

Yamato’s grip tightens, his knuckles white. “You think this is about me? About my pride? This is about you—your recklessness, your inability to see the bigger picture. You can’t solve everything with brute force, Satoru.”

Satoru’s smirk fades, replaced by a steely resolve. “And you can’t solve anything by sitting back and doing nothing.” He yanks his arm free with a sharp motion, the force of it making Yamato take a half-step back. “You’ve made it clear where your priorities lie. Don’t worry—I won’t let this ‘family legacy’ get in the way of protecting my family.”

Yamato’s jaw tightens, his expression unreadable. “Satoru, the boy is your family but not that woma—”

“Address her by name, Yamato.” Satoru steps closer to his father, the two at towering heights. Truly a frightening sight to an outsider’s perspective. “Or you and I are going to start having some serious problems.”

Yamato’s lips press into a thin line, his stoic demeanor cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of irritation. “You think threats will get you anywhere with me, boy?” His voice is sharp, controlled, but there’s a distinct edge that betrays his frustration. “She’s the reason this mess even exists. She’s—”

“Enough.” Satoru’s tone drops to something cold, lethal. His cerulean eyes blaze with an intensity that could freeze anyone in their tracks. “You don’t get to disrespect her. Not when you’ve done nothing to fix this so-called ‘mess.’ Not when she’s been doing everything she can to protect my son—your grandson.”

Yamato stiffens, his brows furrowing. “Watch your tone.”

“I’ve been watching my tone my whole damn life,” Satoru snaps, his composure finally breaking. “But not anymore. You don’t get to sit on your throne and act like you care about this family when all you care about is the Gojo name. Koji and Y/N are my family now. Whether you like it or not.”

“You two aren’t married,” Yamato reminds his son, for what must be the thousandth time now. 

Really, Satoru’s losing his mind here. He knows that. He knows you two aren’t married. But he still feels an obligation towards you—the magnetic pull to protect you from outside scrutiny that could potentially harm you and Koji. So sure, you guys aren’t married. But that doesn’t change the matter of fact here. “And what if we were?”

Akane gasps, Yamato’s eyes visibly widening in surprise before lowering down to their normal state. His jaw ticks. “Stop, don’t make jokes like that. You’ve been promised to Himari for a while now.”

Satoru’s laugh is sharp, humorless, slicing through the tense air. “Promised? What century are you living in? I’m not some pawn for you to move around, Yamato.” His tone drips with disdain as he steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over his father. “You think a promise to Himari means a damn thing to me? I’ll marry who I want, when I want.”

Yamato’s composure wavers for the briefest moment before he narrows his eyes. “You don’t understand the importance of this arrangement, Satoru. It’s not just about you—it’s about securing alliances, protecting the legacy—”

“Legacy, legacy, legacy,” Satoru mocks, rolling his eyes. “Is that all you care about? Your ‘legacy’? Not your grandson, not the fact that your son is trying to do what you never could—actually be there for his family?”

Akane’s hands tremble at her sides as she steps forward, voice tentative but pleading. “Satoru, please. We only want what’s best for you—”

“No,” Satoru interrupts sharply, turning his icy gaze to his mother. “You want what’s best for you. Don’t twist it.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically shake off their words. “Koji doesn’t need your ‘legacy.’ He doesn’t need your politics or your alliances. He needs a father who puts him first.”

“And Y/N?” Yamato retorts, his tone scathing. “Do you think she’s above this? She could be using you, Satoru. She’s a liability, dragging you—us into scandal after scandal. And now, with the boy—”

“Enough!” Satoru’s voice booms, cutting through the room like a clap of thunder. He steps even closer to his father, their faces mere inches apart. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. She’s the mother of my child. She’s family. And I’ll defend her with everything I’ve got.” His voice drops, low and cold. “So go ahead. Keep pushing me. See what happens when I stop giving a damn about your ‘legacy.’”

Akane’s quiet, labored breathing breaks the tension, her hand fluttering to her mouth as she looks between the two men. The silence that follows feels deafening, and for a moment, Yamato looks like he might lash out—but then he takes a breath, regaining his composure.

“Fine, you’ve made your point clear,” Yamato finally says, his voice low and measured. “But don’t expect me to clean up the fallout when this all collapses around you.”

Satoru huffs a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I won’t. I’ve learned not to expect much from you anyway. A man who cares more about sealing business deals than the own well-being of his family.”

Yamato glares, his jaw tightening once more, but he doesn’t respond. The tension in the room is suffocating, a silent battle of wills playing out between father and son.

Satoru doesn’t wait for his father to break. Instead, he turns sharply, heading for the door. Before he leaves, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes steely. “You can take your promises, your alliances, and your legacy—and shove them. I’ll protect my family, with or without you.”

And with that, he slams the door behind him, leaving Akane and Yamato in stunned silence. The house rattles with Satoru’s exit. Akane slowly turns her head towards her husband, who is still staring at the spot their son once stood in. Her jaw clenches, French-tipped nails digging into her aged palms. “You…you’re breaking this family apart, Yamato.”

“It was already apart.”

That’s it. Nostrils flaring as she hastily stomps up to her husband and delivers a slap to his right cheek. His head shoots toward his left, unflinching. He doesn’t face his wife, even after he hears the sniffling come from her. 

The room hangs heavy with silence after the sharp crack of Akane’s hand meeting Yamato’s cheek. She stands there, trembling, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Tears well in her eyes, blurring the sight of her husband—unmoved, unshaken, and cold as stone. 

“You’re so blind,” Akane whispers, her voice quivering. “Blind to what really matters. Satoru…he’s slipping away from us, and you can’t see it because you’re too damn proud to admit you’ve failed him.”

Yamato remains still, his head turned, staring at nothing. “I’ve done what I had to do,” he replies, his voice devoid of emotion. “For this family. For its survival.”

“No,” Akane counters, her voice growing louder, cutting through the tense air like a blade. “You did it for yourself. You’ve always done it for yourself. The name, the power, the control—it’s all you care about. You don’t care about Satoru. You don’t care about Koji. And now…” Her voice cracks, and tears spill over her cheeks. “Now, you don’t even care about me.”

Finally, Yamato turns to face her. His expression is unreadable, a mask of stoicism, but there’s a flicker—just a flicker—of something in his eyes. Regret? Doubt? It’s gone before she can be sure.

“I care about this family,” he says, the words sounding rehearsed, hollow. “I’ve always cared.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Akane snaps, taking a step closer, her fists clenching at her sides. “If you cared, you’d see what you’re doing. You’d see that you’re driving Satoru away, driving us all away. You’d see that the ‘legacy’ you’re so desperate to protect isn’t worth a damn if there’s no one left to carry it. Aren’t you tired of this all?”

Yamato opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his tongue. For a moment, he simply stands there, his towering frame somehow diminished by the weight of her words.

“You’ve lost him,” Akane whispers, her voice breaking. “And if you keep this up…you’ll lose me too.”

She turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she retreats, leaving Yamato alone in the echoing silence of the living room. He doesn’t call after her. Instead, he stands there, the faint sting of her slap lingering on his cheek, and for the first time in a long time, Yamato feels the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

Satoru’s driving faster than he should back home, inhaling deeply then letting it go. He stops at a red light, too close to the white line of pedestrians. His phone sits in the cup holder before being picked up once more, eyes narrowing at the article he was looking at before he stormed on the pedal home. 

“Satoru Gojo and girlfriend Himari Nakamura spotted with Y/N L/N! Trouble in Paradise? Is this an end to Hitoru?!”

He bitterly scoffs once more when he sees the idiotic title to the even more idiotic article. Once again, an intrusive element to his already asphyxiating life. He knew meeting up with you to drop off Koji’s jacket might have been pushing it already, but for some reason…he found himself wanting to see your face and hear your voice. Even if it was just for a few short minutes. He hadn’t expected Himari to find him so soon, which was why he knew he needed to cut it short and keep his cool before anything unsavory happened. 

Because of shit like this. 

Satoru’s grip tightens on the wheel as he glares at the screen, the words blurring as his anger mounts. His chest feels tight, like the very air around him is too thick to breathe. The headline taunts him—Hitoru—the mockery of it all, the never-ending reminders of the mess he’s in. Himari’s name keeps appearing in connection with his, like some knot he can’t untangle.

Hitoru—the name they gave him and Himari when they were pushed together by their families, the perfect picture of a relationship built on top of strict obligation, not love. His fingers tighten around his phone, the familiar buzzing of frustration building in his throat.

He snaps the phone shut with a sharp motion, tossing it back into the cupholder. But the damage is done. The images of you, of Himari, of the scrutiny that surrounds them, keep circling his mind. It’s suffocating. He doesn’t even want to think about it anymore—about how you’ve been dragged into this mess.

The light changes, and he slams his foot down on the accelerator, the engine roaring as he speeds toward home. But even as he drives, his mind races—faster than the car, faster than his thoughts can keep up. He can’t shake the image of his parents, the look in their eyes, the silence that followed his exit. And now this—this new intrusion. It’s like he’s always on the edge of losing something, something he can’t even define anymore.

He turns off the road onto a quieter street, his heart hammering in his chest as he parks in front of the familiar house. The world feels too loud, the air too thick, and all he wants is for it to stop—for it all to just stop.

He grabs his phone again, his thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. He pauses, staring at it, then pulls his hand away, staring at the water in front of him instead.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself. There’s so much to fix, so many wrongs to right, but he doesn’t know where to start anymore. Throwing the phone onto the passenger seat, he knocks his forehead into the leather wheel. 

He wonders if you saw it already. Maybe you did, but maybe you didn’t. There’s a part of him that wants to text you to ask, and maybe even apologize. However, he’s not sure if that would be a good choice right now. He recognizes every little bit of you so easily, it’s startling. Maybe concerning?

The small downturn to your lips as you held back a frown and formed a smile, the pitch of your voice lowering in disappointment. The look in your eyes that glazed over with nothing but…betrayal? He cursed himself, eyes squeezing shut. 

You probably hate him even more now for not standing up for you as you would’ve liked—as he would’ve liked.  He’s starting to feel like his older self again, and he absolutely despises that. Fucking up and knowing it, but not fixing it up afterwards. He should’ve followed you back into your workplace and apologized for what Himari said to you, but he didn’t. He froze like a fucking idiot and in the end—chose another woman. 

Satoru’s forehead remains pressed against the steering wheel, the heat of it grounding him in the overwhelming rush of guilt and frustration. His thoughts swirl in chaos, a vortex of what-ifs and should-haves. Every moment he’d spent ignoring your pain, every opportunity to protect you he let slip by—it feels like he’s suffocating on the weight of it all. The truth is, he knows you too well. Better than anyone else ever could. And that makes it worse.

He can picture it so clearly: the way your lips had almost quivered before you plastered that smile, the way your eyes shifted, too tired to pretend anymore. He’s seen that look before, way more times than he’d like to admit. And it terrifies him now. Betrayal. Is that what he’d done? It was almost like he had carved a bigger wedge between you without realizing it, all because he couldn’t act fast enough, couldn’t be the man you needed. 

Did you still need him?

He slams his hand against the wheel in frustration, the sharp sound echoing in the otherwise quiet car. 

His phone buzzes on the seat beside him with a random notification, and instinctively, he grabs it, his thumb hovering over your name again. But no—he can’t. Not like this. Not when he’s this tangled up in his own mess.

What could he possibly say? 

He drags his hand over his face, muttering to himself. "God, what are you doing to yourself?"

Every time he tries to piece it together, another fragment of reality shatters in his mind. You’ve always been strong. You never asked for him to do more than what he could handle. But you’d been forced to handle so much already, and he... he’d let it all slip away.

Maybe you actually do hate me now.

He leans back against the seat, closing his eyes again, hoping for a moment of clarity. But the only thing he can hear now is the ringing silence in his head.

“Do you still love me?”

“…of course I do. I’d never stop.”

“Then why…why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“No, really. I’m—”

“Let’s go to sleep now.”

He actually feels like he’s going crazy. Snapping his eyes open. He’d never thought he’d be the person to hear voices from the past in his head, but now he’s starting to understand. His heart is beating faster than it should, mouth drying like the Sahara desert and his fingers are starting to feel fidgety. With a shaky, labored breath inward, he reaches for his glove compartment. Opening it and bringing out the picture frame you gifted him. 

It’s only been a few days, but Satoru has discovered that not just staring at his son, but at you, has calmed him down in his hardest of moments. 

Satoru’s fingers tremble as he holds the picture frame, his eyes drawn to the image of you. It’s a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a time when everything was different. Your smile, your eyes full of a younger warmth and something more—something he wishes he could’ve seen in person. That smile, the one that always made his heart flutter despite the chaos surrounding them. 

It was just a small moment, a simple gesture—no grand speeches or dramatic declarations—but to him, it meant the world. And now, in the silence of his car, surrounded by the weight of everything he’d failed to protect, it’s the only thing that feels real.

He runs his thumb along the edge of the glass, his mind replaying the words from before—your words. His chest tightens.

“Why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

It’s a question he still can’t answer. How could he? He was so far from being the man you needed him to be. He thought the love you shared was enough, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’d let it wither, neglected it in favor of his own responsibilities, his own distractions, until it had slipped through his fingers like sand. But in a way, he saw the neglect. And again, he froze. And again, he chose to turn away from you, letting you walk away. 

“Satoru... I know you are.”

He flinches at the memory of your voice, still so clear, still so piercing in its sadness. He'd heard the pain in your words that night. The resignation. He should’ve comforted you more—should’ve tried harder to. It was your own understanding that whatever you two had left, he wasn’t offering it in a way that could keep you whole.

The picture frame shakes slightly in his grasp. The noise of it is almost deafening, drowning out the chaotic swirl of his thoughts. He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of guilt settle deep within his chest, heavier than anything he’s ever felt before.

I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.

His breath hitches. Maybe he wasn’t entirely lost. Maybe he could still fix this. 

With a shaky exhale, he sets the frame back on the seat, staring at it for just a second longer before slowly closing his eyes, and leaning back against the headrest, allowing the overwhelming weight of it all to settle over him. His heart rate evens out, his hands no longer jittering. His sweat has dried down and his shoulders feel lighter. 

Maybe he should apologize. For anything at this point, so long you know he’s regretful. 

He gets a ping at his phone again, one that has him reaching for it and unlocking it with quick ease. He’s set up a different notification sound for whenever you text him or call him—it separates you from the rest of the contacts. Also, it lets him know that your message or phone call is actually worth replying to. 

Y/N:

Can you watch Koji tonight, please? I’m going out with a friend. 

He hesitates, a wave of curiosity passing through him. What friend? Going where? He wants to ask, and he almost does. But logic wins over and he finds himself having better restraint than he would’ve expected. So, with a big inhale, he types back a simple ‘sure’. 

—-

He blames it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you dressed up in a while. That’s why his mind has suddenly gone foggy, lips parted and eyebrows raised as if he’s on the very verge of saying something. “You look…” Edible. 

Clearing your throat, you stuff your hands into the pockets of the small black jacket you adorn to keep you semi-warm throughout the night. But it probably won’t do much considering your legs are on full display for everyone to see. Your white-painted toes peeking out from the black heels you wear. And not to mention, the red dress you’re wearing that’s almost too tight and short for his liking. You’re wearing a glossy red lip to match, hair down, and jewelry that stands out perfectly against your skin. If he inhales hard enough, he’ll smell the sweet scent of your floral, strawberry fragrance that always leaves him wanting—feining for more. 

“…nice.”

Nice? That’s all he could come up with? He mentally berates himself, though he’s not entirely sure if he wants to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how good you look. It’s not just the dress or the heels—it’s your unknowing confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. It’s infuriatingly captivating. 

“Thanks,” you reply, not meeting his gaze as you adjust the strap of your small purse. You’re not oblivious to the way his eyes linger, but you refuse to let it affect you. Not tonight, not anymore. “Koji’s already asleep, so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Satoru nods, leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Who’s the lucky guy?” he finally asks, his tone deliberately casual.

You pause mid-motion, glancing back at him with a raised brow. “Why does it matter?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Just curious. I mean, you haven't gone out much, so…”

“It’s a friend,” you say firmly, cutting him off before he can push further. “That’s all you need to know.”

His lips thin, looking briefly at his son’s closed door before back at your figure; watching you grab your keys. “Well…how are you getting there?” He asks, a hint of concern in his voice. 

“My friend and the guy she’s talking to are picking me up. We were going to meet him there, but he said he could pick us up instead.”

“What guy?” He can’t help but ask. “Is he a good driver? Do you know him well? Do I—”

“They’re picking me up,” you reiterate, cutting him off. Looking back at him, a plain emotion on your face. “I have it situated. Just worry about watching Koji, okay?”

The words sting more than he expects them to. He watches as you step out the door, your heels clicking against the pavement. “Please be safe,” he calls after you, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant.

You turn briefly, offering a small, polite smile. “I will.”

And just like that, you’re gone, leaving Satoru standing in the apartment, staring after you with a sinking feeling in his chest. The thought of you out there, dressed like that, with someone else—some other guy—makes his blood simmer. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but it doesn’t stop the jealousy from gnawing at him.

A few minutes and he decides to be nosy. Peeking out the window, looking down at the parking lot of the complex. He sees you getting into a car. Now, it’s not the fact that the entire car is blacked out so he can’t even see who’s in the car with you, or the fact that it has obnoxious lights on the rims. But solely the fact that it’s a Maybach. 

Since when do you know anyone who drives a Maybach?

Not that he’s trying to diss you or anything, but so far, he has no knowledge of you coming across any people who could afford that kind of car. Up until now. And that thought alone has him on edge. 

Or maybe it’s the signature, golden ‘Z’ emblem above the back license plate that he spots as the car drives off. His stomach turns. No. No. No. That couldn’t be. He’s just imagining that. 

No way you’re in a car with a Zenin right now. 

There’s just no way. 

“You look cute,” Hana comments, turning around in her seat. Smiling as she gives you a once-over. “Is that the dress we bought together that one time at the mall?”

“Yeah. You look great too,” you chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You glance over at Naoya who’s currently fixated on the road. “Thanks for the ride, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Naoya replies without taking his eyes off the road, his tone neutral but polite. “Hana insisted we pick you up anyway.”  

Hana grins, turning her attention back to you. “Of course I did! It’s been forever since we had a proper night out. You’ve been cooped up for too long, Y/N.” She gestures dramatically, earning a small laugh from you.  

“I guess I have,” you admit, glancing out the window as the city lights blur past. “It’s just been… a lot lately.”  

Hana’s smile softens, and she reaches back to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Well, tonight’s about letting go of all that. We’ll have fun, I promise.”  

Naoya glances at you in the rearview mirror, his sharp gaze lingering for a moment before he focuses back on the road. “Just make sure you don’t let loose too much,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smirk.  

You look over, seeing the corner of his lips upturned into what must be his permanent grin. You catch his eyes meeting you through the rearview mirror for a minute and it makes you feel naked. Clearing your throat and looking back at your window with an awkward chuckle. 

“Naoya, the overprotective chauffeur,” Hana jokes, earning a laugh from Naoya as he puts his hand on her thigh.  

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you two,” Naoya quips, his smirk widening as his fingers give Hana’s leg a light squeeze. “Especially when you’re dragging her along into whatever chaos you’ve planned.”

Hana rolls her eyes, brushing his hand off playfully. “Relax, Dad. We’re just going out for a few drinks and some dancing. Nothing too wild.” She winks at you. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod. “Right. I’m not exactly a party animal.”

Naoya hums, clearly unconvinced. “We’ll see about that.”

Hana waves him off.  He chortles a low, smooth sound that vibrates through the car. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here to make sure my ladies get home in one piece.”

Your lips part in confusion, brows knitting together. You glance at him, but he doesn’t elaborate. Hana, ever the chatterbox, quickly fills the silence. “Well, lucky us, then! Who else gets a chauffeur who also cares about their well-being?” She leans over and plants a dramatic kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

Naoya laughs, but he subtly turns his head to the side and grimaces, wiping his cheek as if offended. You notice. 

The dynamic between them is easy and light, and though you try to relax, you can’t shake the feeling of Naoya’s lingering gaze every time he catches your eye in the mirror. There’s something unnerving about the way he looks at you—like he knows something you don’t. 

For now, though, you push it aside. Tonight isn’t about overthinking—it’s about having a moment to breathe.

But you shake it off, plastering a smile on your face as the car pulls up to the club. Hana claps her hands excitedly, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Alright, let’s get this night started!”

Naoya puts it in park and rounds over to the other side of the car, opening Hana’s far and surprisingly yours as well. Giving him a small nod in thanks, you go to loop arms with Hana, but she’s already doing that with Naoya. 

You falter for a moment, your arm awkwardly dropping back to your side. Hana is too busy chatting animatedly with Naoya to notice, her laugh ringing out as they start walking ahead. You follow a step behind, trying not to feel out of place.

The entrance to the club glows with neon lights, and the steady thrum of bass greets you as you approach. Hana bounces on her heels, her excitement contagious as she tugs on Naoya’s arm. “Hurry up! We don’t want to miss the good music!”

Naoya glances back at you, his sharp eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You good back there?”

“Yeah,” you reply quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

Hana beams at you over her shoulder, oblivious to the moment. “Don’t let us leave you behind, Y/N! Tonight’s about you having fun too!”

“Right,” you murmur, falling into step beside them as the bouncer waves you three in instantly as soon as he sees Naoya’s with you. 

Inside, the club is alive with energy—flashing lights, pulsing music, and a crowd already losing themselves on the dance floor. 

In other words, it’s a sensory overload. The air is thick with the smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and the floor vibrates underfoot with the heavy bass of the music that pulses from every corner. The dim, moody lighting casts long shadows across the room, but flashes of neon blues, purples, and pinks blink and fade in time with the beats, giving the space an electric, otherworldly glow.

To your left, a long, sleek bar stretches the length of the room, illuminated by LED lights embedded beneath the counter, giving it a cool, almost ethereal glow. Behind the bar, bartenders move with practiced efficiency, mixing colorful drinks, occasionally tossing bottles into the air as part of a flashy show to catch the attention of the crowd. The shelves of liquor gleam under the shifting lights, every bottle begging to be chosen.

The dance floor is alive with movement—a sea of people in various states of abandon, swaying, grinding, and throwing themselves into the beat. The DJ booth is elevated at the far end of the room, with an impressive setup of turntables, flashing screens, and a bright spotlight that shines down on the DJ as they command the crowd. Their hands are a blur as they adjust the controls, sending waves of sound crashing through the speakers, making the room feel alive with every drop.

Above, the ceiling is dark but dotted with small, moving lights that give the illusion of stars or distant galaxies, adding to the club’s otherworldly atmosphere. A few scattered tables sit around the edges of the room, reserved for VIP guests, and each one is surrounded by plush, velvet chairs and bottles of expensive liquor.

As you move through the crowd, you catch glimpses of people laughing, chatting, and flirting, but it all feels distant—like you’re part of the scene but not entirely involved. The club is packed, but there’s a strange sense of intimacy in the chaos as if everyone is trying to escape their real lives, if only for a few hours. The energy is intoxicating, but beneath it all, you can feel the weight of your own thoughts creeping back in, no matter how hard you try to let the music wash them away.

Naoya guides you two upstairs, which shocks you because you weren’t aware this spot has more than one floor. “C’mon, upstairs is where all the important people stay.” He says, his head tilting in the direction of where he’s referring. 

Hana giggles and practically bubbles with excitement. You on the other hand, not so much. Maybe it’s just the fact that you’re a very analytical person at heart, constantly checking and being sure of your surroundings. Of course, a few men pass you and Hana lingering stares, but none of them approach you. 

Naoya walks over to a small VIP booth that’s been blocked off, sitting leisurely down on the couch and bringing Hana down to his lap; her arms around his neck. You sit beside them, hands in your lap. Looking around, and yep, it definitely is a different vibe than downstairs. 

As you settle into the plush, velvet booth, the vibe upstairs feels even more exclusive. The lighting here is more subdued, with golden accents and low-hanging chandeliers casting a warm, luxurious glow over the space. The music from downstairs is muffled, replaced by a mix of smooth beats and more chill, electronic sounds, making the atmosphere feel like a blend of relaxation and quiet intensity. The view from the booth offers a perfect vantage point, allowing you to overlook the main floor, but with a sense of separation from the chaos. The air smells richer up here too—expensive cologne and the faint scent of cigars from the few people who seem to want a more private retreat from the crowd below. Glasses of wine and crystal-clear cocktails sit on the tables, adding to the upscale feel.

“All rounds on me. Let’s enjoy the night,” Naoya announces. 

“Thank you, babe!” Hana exclaims, nuzzling into his neck.  

Your eyes flicker to the other patrons in the booth with you. Some are laughing softly, holding drinks, while others sit in hushed conversations, the dim lighting making everything feel secretive and intimate. You can’t help but wonder if this is how the elite live all the time—an almost curated existence, designed for maximum enjoyment and minimal disruption.

A waitress arrives with a tray of drinks—various cocktails with elaborate garnishes, the scent of alcohol mingling with the floral air in the room. Naoya takes one without hesitation, handing it to Hana, who beams in delight. He looks over as if waiting for you to take one as well. You glance down at the assortment of drinks before finally picking up a glass, the amber liquid gleaming in the dim light. You take a small sip, the sharpness of the alcohol hitting your tongue as you try to keep your focus on the present moment, not letting your mind wander too far.

Naoya watches you with a raised brow, then leans back in his seat, his arm casually draped around Hana’s waist. He seems to enjoy the fact that you’re more reserved than the others. He chuckles lowly. “I wasn’t sure you’d be the type to go for the fancy drinks,” he remarks, his voice light but piercing as he studies your expression.

You give him a dry smile, shifting your attention toward the music pulsing through the speakers. “I’m not, but I figured it’s a good way to blend in,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation flowing without delving into anything personal.

Hana, always the life of the group, doesn’t seem to notice the tension hanging in the air. She’s already lost in the rhythm of the night, swaying her body slightly as she sips her drink. You, on the other hand, are a stranger in it all, unsure of your place here.

You’re don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s probably sooner than later when you’re nudging Hana over as Naoya is engaged in conversation with another man. “Hey, I thought we were going for the more…you know. Lively kind of night. Not a sit down and whiskey type.” You lace your words with a chuckle, though you speak the truth. You’d much rather be on the first floor, drinking expensive, but poorly made drinks and shaking your ass off on the dance floor with a bunch of strangers. 

“What’s wrong with being up here? Naoya said all the important people stay here.” She tilts her head, sipping from what must be her fifth drink already. She’s drunk, obviously. 

You’re teetering the line of tipsy and drunk. 

“Well, yeah, sure. But don’t you want to dance or something?” You ask back. 

Hana looks at you for a moment, her eyes softening with a thoughtful expression. She tilts her head, the buzz of the alcohol making her seem a little more carefree. “I mean, I guess, but I like the vibe up here more. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Her words are a little slow.

You glance down at your feet for a moment, debating your options. The temptation to be more carefree is there, gnawing at the edges of your mind. But as the music and voices continue to swirl around you, you feel more and more out of place in this sterile, high-class VIP area. You can practically feel the weight of the high-heeled shoes digging into your feet, the tightness of your dress that’s become slightly uncomfortable as the night wears on.

You shoot a glance toward Naoya, who's deep in conversation with some well-dressed man. His posture is perfect, the kind of poised confidence only someone like him could exude, while you and Hana are caught up in your own corner of the booth, the alcohol clouding your judgment but not your awareness. It’s strange to be so close to people who are so at home here but yet feel so far away.

“I think I’m gonna go dance,” you say, suddenly making up your mind. “You don’t have to join me if you’re not feeling it.” You stand, brushing your dress down as you do. Your legs feel a little unsteady, but it’s manageable. You’re not a newbie to drinking, after all. 

Hana looks at you, her gaze blurry but her smile still wide. “Go for it, girl! I’m fine here.” She gives you a thumbs up, though she seems too drunk to be fully aware of what’s going on around her.

You nod, and make your way down the stairs back toward the first floor. The music is louder here, the bass thumping through your chest as you walk toward the crowd of people already dancing. Normally, Hana would never shy away from dancing with you—or straying away from you during a night out. So the fact that she’s suddenly willing to tonight makes you feel weird. But it’s probably just the alcohol. 

You shake off the momentary discomfort, the need to blend into this world of expensive drinks and quiet conversations. This is what you came for.

The crowd is exactly as you expected—a mixture of sweaty bodies, neon lights, and the pulsating energy of a hundred people trying to escape their realities, if only for a few hours. You take a deep breath, letting the beat of the music invade your senses. For a second, you feel a bit more free.

You grab a drink from one of the servers, not caring much about what it is, and make your way into the center of the dance floor. The drink is cool in your hand as you take a sip, feeling the sharp burn of the alcohol before you set it aside, letting yourself be carried away by the rhythm.

The night is finally starting to feel a bit more like it should.

As you lose yourself in the music, the bass vibrating through your bones, you feel the tension in your body start to melt away. For the first time tonight, you're not thinking about the drama, the men, or the uncomfortable constraints of the VIP booth. The club is full of people, all dancing, laughing, and letting go of whatever worries they might have had earlier. You let yourself blend into the crowd, moving fluidly to the beat, forgetting about everything except the thrum of the music and the freedom in the space around you.

It feels nice. Very nice, in fact. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been to a club, let alone go dancing. You forgot how freeing it feels. Of course, the alcohol plays a role in the freeing sensation, but it’s also the fact that you can let loose. You don’t have to think of anyone else but yourself at this moment. That realization makes your lips upturn, hips swaying and eyes closing in a euphoric blissfulness. 

You can tell it’s been a while since you’ve been down here by the way sweat beads at your forehead and the back of your neck. You don’t wipe it off, however. That’s the whole point. 

But as you move, you can suddenly feel eyes on you. At first, it's easy to dismiss the sensation, assuming it’s just the way the lights play across the room, making everyone appear to be watching. But the longer you dance, the more you realize that someone is actually watching, their gaze sharp and unwavering. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Naoya.

His presence is unmistakable. Even amidst the blur of strangers, you can feel him like a weight in the air, his energy standing out amongst the crowd. He’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, his arms folded, his expression unreadable but clearly intent on you. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. Something about the way he’s staring makes your stomach flip, though you can’t quite tell whether it’s from excitement or unease.

You try to ignore it, but the discomfort lingers. You dance a little harder, moving to the rhythm, hoping the feeling will pass. But Naoya doesn’t look away. In fact, his posture shifts slightly, and the subtle smirk that plays on his lips only deepens. 

At that moment, you feel an unexpected shift in the crowd around you. You glance over, expecting to see some stranger encroaching on your space, but instead, it’s just the pulse of the music getting more intense. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that Naoya is watching you with something more than curiosity. His gaze is intense, too intense for a simple night out. 

The realization starts to gnaw at you. He’s waiting for something. And it’s not just the usual flirtatious attention. There’s a deliberate energy in the air, a challenge almost. 

You swallow thickly, trying to push the tension away. But it’s getting harder to pretend like you’re not aware of him, especially as you move.

“Having fun?” Naoya’s voice cuts through the noise as he approaches you, standing dangerously close, almost too close. You freeze momentarily, caught off guard by his forced proximity. He towers over you, the heat from his body radiating towards you, his gaze locked onto yours like he’s studying you, dissecting you. 

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, your mind scrambling for something to say, anything to break the intensity of the moment. Instead, your eyes dart toward the exit of the dance floor. You need space. But Naoya doesn’t give you the chance to retreat.

“You seem a little distracted tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low as if they’re the only two people in the room.

You know he’s not just talking about the music. A part of you wants to pull away, to tell him you’re fine, but another part feels caught in his web. 

He leans in slightly, his voice nearly lost in the music. “I thought you’d be enjoying yourself up there. Why the sudden change of heart?”

You tilt your head, forcing yourself to stay grounded. “I just needed a change of pace, that’s all.”

Naoya looks you over with a raised eyebrow, his posture leaning just a bit closer. “I see.” His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “You’re not trying to forget anything, are you?”

You glance at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer right away, letting the question hang in the air for a second. Instead, he moves closer, his hand brushing against the small of your back. His touch is light, but there’s an intensity behind it, a pull that almost makes you lose focus. The air around you thickens, the moment stretching out longer than necessary.

“I’m just wondering how long you’re going to keep running away from what’s really bothering you,” Naoya murmurs, his smirk never faltering.

You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. His words—casual, yet somehow pointed—cut through the haze of alcohol in your mind. It’s strange how Naoya can make you feel uncomfortably exposed even when he’s doing the least. That’s not normal. 

“I’m not running from anything,” you say, your voice steady but your heart suddenly a little heavier. “Just enjoying the night, like you said.”

Naoya chuckles softly, though there’s a sharpness to it now. “Sure, just enjoying the night. You do that.” He leans in closer, almost too close now, his breath brushing your ear. “But you should know, sometimes the thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you, no matter how far you run.”

You tense, your pulse racing, and for a moment, you wonder if he knows something—something about you, about Satoru, or maybe even about your own deepest fears. His hands are on your hips before you know it, moving your body in a swaying motion to the beat of the music. 

And for some reason, you let him. Feeling the weight of his ominous words stay heavy on your mind, fixating on a random tile of the floor. You feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, unmoving. For a second, you feel yourself give in. Placing your hands atop his in a hesitant manner—testing out the waters. 

And instantly, you’re met with your answer, a nauseating pit forming in your gut. Lip curling into a tiny sneer. 

“W-where’s Hana?” You blurt out, pushing his hands away from you and turning around to face him. 

There’s a momentary look of shock on his face before he pulls it back down into his usual Cheshire grin, though you can tell it looks more forced than usual this time. His eyes narrowed. “Oh, Hana? She’s still upstairs.”

“And you left her there?” You huff with disbelief, your head shaking. You attempt to side-step past him, but he’s putting an arm around your shoulder before you can go. 

“Don’t worry, pretty. I can lead you to her.”

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol clouding your judgment or the lingering discomfort from his presence, but you find yourself stopping. His touch, warm but unnerving, keeps you in place as his arm wraps around you. His grip feels possessive in a way that makes your skin crawl, and for the briefest second, you almost feel trapped.

You glance up at him, his grin too wide, too knowing. There’s something in his eyes—something that doesn’t sit right with you. His words float in your mind like smoke: “The thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you tilt your head toward the stairs, where you know Hana must be waiting. “I think I’ll find her myself,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm, and detached, though your pulse quickens.

Naoya’s eyes glint with something unreadable, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he tightens his arm around your shoulder, his touch more possessive than before, making it hard to breathe. “I’m just trying to help, sweetheart. What’s the harm in me escorting you?” His voice is low, almost coaxing like he’s trying to pull you into his orbit.

Before you know it, he’s taking you upstairs. All the while keeping his arm around you. You gulp down the lump in your throat, unsure if you should push him off and let him take you to your friend. Maybe you’re overthinking—overreacting. Once you two are upstairs, he’s walking past the booths. You glance at the booth you were once at, seeing no sight of your friend. 

Panic trickles in slowly as he takes you down a small hallway, turning to his right and opening the last door. 

You’re taking in everything. Women, men, glasses of alcohol. Some make out and others getting frisky with each other. The room feels even more suffocating than the second floor itself. But your eyes don’t just widen at what the others are doing, but what your friend is doing. 

She’s sitting beside some guys you don’t even know, white snowy lines laid out in front of them on the glass table. She’s leaning down, holding a finger to her nostril and just about to partake in the activity when you snatch her up by her arm. “Hana! W-what the hell are you doing?!”

Hana looks up at you, her face slightly flushed and her eyes glazed over, an uncharacteristic haze of confusion settling over her expression as she blinks a few times. The room is full of murmurs, laughter, and the sharp scent of something far stronger than alcohol. For a moment, Hana doesn’t seem to recognize you at all, or perhaps she’s just too far gone to care. The men around her don’t react immediately, their attention is divided between each other and whatever else is happening in the room.

“Hana!” you repeat, voice rising in panic, shaking her arm a little more forcefully. Your grip is tight, and you can feel the tremor in your hand as the weight of the situation starts to sink in.

She blinks again, then her gaze clears just enough to focus on you. “Y/N?” she slurs, a small frown forming as she rubs her nose absentmindedly. “What’s up? I was just… having fun.”

“This isn’t fun, Hana!” You pull her up from her seat, your voice trembling as you yank her away from the men. “This is dangerous—what are you thinking?”

Hana stumbles a little, her movements sluggish, and she doesn’t seem to fully grasp the seriousness of the moment. She laughs softly, her words laced with a slur that makes it hard for you to hear her clearly. “Come on, Y/N, chill out. It’s just a little fun. You’ve been so uptight lately... you need to loosen up, too.”

Your heart races as you glance back at Naoya, still standing in the doorway, his hand resting casually on the frame. His grin is gone, replaced by a coldness that seems to make the room feel even more stifling. You’re left standing there, breath shallow, with Hana still swaying slightly in your grip. You don’t know how long it takes for the fog of confusion to lift from her eyes, but when it does, her face falls.

Your stomach twists, both from the overwhelming sense of protectiveness and the lingering disgust at what she’d been about to do. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You’ve been friends for too long to just let this go. You can’t leave her here like this—not with those people, not in this situation.

You pull her closer, your voice softening. “We’re leaving, Hana. Now.”

A beat of silence hangs between you, and for a moment, you think she might actually listen, but then she looks at you with frustration, and then back at Naoya, who hasn’t moved an inch.

“Why are you always trying to control everything, Y/N?” she snaps, and it feels like a slap to the face. “I’m fine. Just let me do what I want for once.”

It’s the final straw. You can’t stand it anymore. You’re about to pull her out of the room, about to drag her away from this mess, but Naoya steps forward, a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to stop. “Maybe you should let her be, Y/N,” he says, voice calm but his grip tightening on you. “She’s not your responsibility tonight.”

Your anger flares, but your mind is spinning too fast to catch up. You want to scream. You want to slap him across the face, but you know better. You can feel the weight of the situation settling in, and something about being in this room with him, watching everything around you spiral out of control, is making you lose your footing.

And Hana—she’s still there, looking so lost, so far gone.

You feel the pressure of Naoya’s touch on your shoulder, almost like an invisible barrier, stopping you from moving. The walls feel like they’re closing in, the air heavy and thick with tension.

“Did you bring her in here? Did you force her to do things she couldn’t consent to?” You ask, forcing your drunken mess away for just a moment to deal with the situation at hand. 

His head tilts in faux innocence. “What? No. She said she wanted to meet my friends so I let her. I said I’d be back in a few minutes, I didn’t know she’d be doing anything like that.”

“But you still left her alone.” You grit. 

“So? She’s a grown woman. Besides, she’s not alone.” He gestures to the people inside. 

You can feel your heart racing, each word hanging in the air like a heavy weight, suffocating you more than the dense atmosphere of the room. Your chest tightens with anger and concern for your friend. The nerve of him—standing there, acting like he didn’t know what was happening. He knows exactly what’s going on, and now he’s just playing it off like it’s nothing.

“You still left her alone,” you repeat, voice sharper this time, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though every instinct tells you to look away. “If you had any decency at all, you wouldn’t have let her get to this point.” 

Naoya shrugs, an almost bored expression on his face, like he’s done this too many times to count and knows exactly how to make people like you back down. “Decency? You want me to babysit her?” His lips curl into that smirk again, the one that sends a chill down your spine. “I’m not her keeper, Y/N. She made her own choices.”

Your hands shake, but you force them to remain steady. You glance at Hana again, who’s swaying, her mind clearly lost in whatever she was about to do, her gaze vacant. The sight makes your stomach churn, the reality of how deep she’s gotten into all this hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Then why did you bring her here?” you ask, struggling to keep your voice from breaking. “Why even let her near this place if you knew what was going on?”

Naoya’s eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you might have actually caught him off guard. But then his expression hardens, and the slight tension in his jaw gives way to a shrug. “Because she wanted to be here. She asked to come. I didn’t make her.” His tone is colder now, more dismissive. “You know, Y/N, sometimes people just want to let loose. You can’t control everything. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

You flinch at his words, and that’s when you know—you’re not going to get anything else from him. He’s already too far gone into his own ego, into this sick game he’s playing. But you won’t stop. Not when Hana’s here, not when she’s clearly in over her head.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, putting yourself between Naoya and Hana, your voice unwavering. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Naoya opens his mouth as if to argue, but you don’t give him the chance. You grab Hana’s arm again, more forcefully this time, pulling her away from the table. She resists at first, confused, but your grip is unyielding.

“Come on, Hana. We’re going.” You almost want to shout it, to get her out of there before anything else can happen, but instead, you keep your voice steady, calm, for her.

She blinks at you, her vision blurry. “But... Y/N... I... I’m fine, I just... I just wanted to try it...”

“No, Hana,” you snap, cutting her off before she can finish her sentence. “This is not you. You’re not fine.” 

The words hit her hard. You can see it in her eyes—the brief flash of clarity before the fog comes back over them. She sways, but you manage to keep her steady as you drag her out of the room, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people inside.

Naoya doesn’t try to stop you. He stands there, arms crossed, watching you leave with that same smirk plastered across his face.

You can hear him mutter under his breath. And you find that being your final straw again. 

You stop in your tracks, holding your friend to your side by her waist. Debating. “Hey.”

He barely has time to look over his shoulder before your fist makes contact with his cheek. He audibly yelps in a feminine manner, instantly holding the injured area. “Ow! W—hey!” 

His mouth is agape, eyebrows furrowed and glaring at you with looks to kill. You wring out your fist, glad you wore your favorite ring today. You can’t punch for shit, yet he’s acting like…

“You crazy woman!” He huffs out, the room going silent as he has his breakdown. Rushing over and pushing a couple of women out of the way to cheek his face in the mirror. He sees the red area, and his lip is busted. Whipping his head back over to you. “How dare you?! I’ll fucking sue you for this, you know?”

“Go ahead, I have nothing to give you.” You reply back, turning on your heel and walking out. Footsteps quick from the sheer adrenaline and small amount of fear that he’ll try to grab you from behind. He doesn’t, luckily. 

All that matters now is getting Hana out of this hellhole. As you make your way to the exit, you finally feel like you can breathe again. But just barely.

Once you’re outside, the cold air hits your skin, grounding you. Hana stumbles beside you, still out of it, but you’ve done what you came to do. You’ve pulled her from the edge.

But as you both stand there, the reality of what just happened settles in. You’ve confronted Naoya, punched him, and you’ve dragged your friend out of a situation she was too far gone to see. But now, as the adrenaline begins to fade, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not done yet.

You look down at your shaky fist, seeing the red knuckles. “…shit…” you mumble under your breath, chest heaving up and down. You gasp and catch yourself on a light pole when Hana suddenly goes dead weight and almost brings you down to the concrete with her. It takes everything in you to hold her up.

Your vision feels wavy, feeling your feet stumble a bit to the right from your own inebriation before catching yourself mid-haze. “Okay, okay.” 

You’re bear-hugging her to your chest, holding your bodies up against the light pole. Breathing in and out heavily, eyes closing as you try to figure out a situation for this all. Your ride, gone. You didn’t even bring money for a taxi. And your friend is passed out drunk. You do a mental checklist of people who can haul you and Hana’s drunk asses back home. Only coming out with two viable options. And one of those is currently watching your son at home. 

Leaving only one other person. 

Satoru has been lounging around your place for a few hours now, bored out of his mind. He switches from laying on the couch, to rummaging through your cabinets and reading the expiration date on everything, to checking on his son. 

He sighs heavily, staring down at the familiar key he had gifted you that lies on the kitchen counter. Untouched. He still hasn’t asked about your confirmation of the place he bought for you two, he figures he can do that tomorrow. But the fact that you haven’t seemed to put much regard into it feels like a small dig to him, his frown deepening. Did you not care for it? Do you not like it? The fact that he went out of his way to buy you and his son a better place to live??

He needs to clear his mind. 

Walking over to Koji’s room, peeking in once more, everything is the same. His son still sleeps peacefully, snoring lightly and holding his Spider-Man close to his chest with his blankets thrown over him. The Spider-Man makes Satoru scowl again, forcing his eyes away and to the small hamper in the corner. 

He might as well do something productive now. 

Carefully, he walks in and grabs the hamper, walking back out with effortless silence. Going over to your washer and dryer, opening the two doors to reveal them. He already sees a full hamper on top of the washer and sighs. “C’mon, Y/N,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. 

Flipping the light switch on, he puts both hampers on the ground and it takes him a while to figure out how to work your washer. Afterward, he opens the lid and tosses on Koji’s small load, then yours. He tries not to hold onto your panties and bras for too long, not trying to be a perv. But he’s a man, after all. A man who may still have feelings for his ex. 

So when he sees a pair of blue, lace panties, he thinks he might get a hard on right then and there. You creep! He’s holding it in front of his face, admiring the dangling fabric. He’s surprised you still have this. He remembers the…day you got it, after all. Yep, he feels his pants tighten. 

The sick, twisted part of him tells him to give the panties a small sniff. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right?

No, no. That’s disgusting of you, Satoru. 

He shakes his head, reminding himself that he can’t do this and that he has a girlfriend. And by the gods above, he quickly tosses it into the washer before he loses control. The rest of your clothes consist of pants, sweats, a jacket, a few shirts, and a….wait. 

…what’s this?

Getting to the bottom of your hamper, he comes across a shirt. One that’s too oversized to fit you. One that’s cotton. One that smells faintly like someone else he knows. One that he bought for his best friend two Christmases ago. 

Satoru stares at the shirt in his hands, his eyes narrowing as the realization hits him like a cold slap to the face. The fabric feels heavier in his grip than it should, and the faint scent clings to it—the unmistakable scent of someone else. Someone he knows. Someone who's apparently been a part of your life in ways that make him uncomfortable to even consider.

His stomach twists, a mix of anger and confusion flooding his thoughts. The shirt feels like a thread unraveling everything he’s been trying to convince himself of. He knows it’s irrational to feel the way he does, but in that moment, all he can think of is him. His best friend. The one who’s always been there. The one who seems too close to you. His grip tightens around the fabric, his stomach dropping. Gulping hard and forcing himself not to jump to conclusions. 

But that’s pretty fucking hard. 

Why the fuck do you have Suguru’s shirt? Why is it in your dirty clothes? Did he just put it there? Did he spend the night? Did you and him—

He tosses the shirt back into the hamper with more force than necessary, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there. It’s his.  

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. What is he supposed to do with this? He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but everything about this feels wrong. He glances over at the pile of clothes—your clothes. He sees everything but that damn shirt. But it's there now, in his mind, looming like a specter. 

Satoru grabs the rest of the clothes, hastily tossing them into the washer, but it’s hard to focus. His mind keeps returning to that one question. That one shirt. And the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, there's something he's been missing.

He almost feels like gagging as he closes the two doors and turns the light off, head spinning. He places a hand to his forehead, blinking hard. 

His head whips over to the front door when he hears muffled chatter from outside. 

“Thank you for coming on short notice,” you mumble in embarrassment, focusing your eyes on your fiddling hands in your lap. 

“Don’t thank me, Y/N. I would’ve come either way.” Suguru responds, smiling briefly at you before focusing back on the road. 

You’re just dropped Hana off. The trip felt way easier since Suguru opted to carry her in and to her bed, with you grabbing her keys and unlocking her door. When you left, you made sure everything else was locked. He didn’t even question anything, simply doing as you asked. 

Of course his gaze is riddled with concern, confusion, and skepticism. You don’t miss the way he keeps looking down at your red knuckles that you hide, but with the way you haven’t mentioned anything about the night, he figures you won’t talk about it. 

“How much did you drink? I brought some water, it’s on the door.” He juts his head in your direction. 

You glance down and grab the bottle, thanking him as you down it. “Um…just a few drinks. I’m not entirely sober right now, still.”

Suguru nods slowly, not saying anything for a moment as the car hums along the quiet road. He doesn’t push you to talk, but he knows something’s off. You’ve been quieter than usual, and the tension in the air is palpable. He’s been around you long enough to sense when something isn’t right, but he’s trying not to pry—especially when you’re clearly trying to avoid the topic.

When you finish the water, he glances over at you, eyes softening. “I know you’re not ready to talk, Y/N. But you know I’m here, right? If you ever want to—”

You nod quickly, cutting him off, but not in a way that’s dismissive. It’s more like you’re trying to assure him. “I know. Thanks, Suguru.” The words hang between you both, neither of you fully comfortable in the silence. Guilt hits you, so you continue. “I just…tonight didn’t go as planned.”

He nods, stopping at a red light. Finally taking the chance to look at you fully once more. His lips thin in displeasure when he sees your current state. Shivering, flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, hair messy. He sighs and reaches in the backseat and brings out a warm, thick black jacket. Putting it over your shoulders. “Put that on, okay? Keep yourself warm and hydrated.”

Your lips part, but you nod and smile slightly. “…thank you,” you murmur, holding the jacket closer. 

“And don’t thank me anymore, okay?” He replies, hints of playfulness in his voice like he’s trying to ease the mood. When the light turns green, the car moves forward again and gets closer to your apartment complex. 

You let out a quiet breath, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you as you pull it tighter around your shoulders. The night feels like a blur now, too many conflicting emotions tangled together. Suguru’s steady presence is a welcome relief, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve lost control in some way. Tonight wasn’t just a mess—it was a wake-up call.

As he makes the final turn toward your apartment, you glance at him, still holding the jacket close. His eyes are on the road, but you can tell he’s trying to read you without being too obvious. There’s concern in the way his brows are furrowed, even though he’s doing his best to keep things light.

“I didn’t expect the night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice quieter than before. “I thought it’d just be a fun time with Hana, but… everything kind of spiraled.”

Suguru’s expression softens, though his gaze doesn’t stray from the road. “I know you wanted to have a good time, Y/N. Sometimes things just… happen. Doesn’t mean you can’t recover from it.”

You glance out the window, trying to focus on the passing scenery. The bright lights of the city feel like a distant memory compared to the emotional chaos inside your head. You force your stomach not to start twisting. “I know. It’s just hard. I never thought I’d have to deal with something like this.”

Suguru reaches for the wheel a bit tighter, but his voice is gentle as ever. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone, you know? Not everything is on your shoulders. Let yourself breathe a little.”

You bite your lip. I tried doing that tonight, look where that got me. You stay silent as he finds a space and parks, deciding he’s dealt with enough of your burdens. 

“I’ll walk you up,” he mutters, unbuckling and getting out of the car to come to your side. He helps you out wordlessly, closing the door behind you and locking his car. 

Your footsteps falter for a moment. “I-is it okay if I lean—”

“Of course,” he cuts you off, holding a steady arm around your waist and allowing you to use him as grounding for your leaning weight. He’s practically leading you, but you have no problem with it. Even as you two enter the elevator, the silence doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable. If anything, you’re leaning more into him, the side of your head against his chest. 

He glances down at the top of your head, pulling you just a tad bit closer and twisting the urge to plant a kiss to your hair. His thumb rubs small, soothing circles around your hip, feeling you lean more and more against him. 

The doors open and he’s slowing his movements for you. “Still with me?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles and looks forward. “Good, don’t go falling asleep. Get some water in you, maybe some bread.”

You can’t help but softly chuckle. “You know, you’ve been really nice to me, Suguru. Nicer than anyone else.”

Your words are getting quiet and more mumbled—slurred. But he can still faintly piece your words together. You feel the rumble in his chest from his coaxing laugh. “Yeah? I think I’m just acting how any other man would.”

“Not any other man.” You reply.

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, getting a tiny idea of who you may be referring to. But he doesn’t want to ruin your night even more by saying his name. 

The quiet hum of the building is a comfort, a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier. You’re not sure how much of your surroundings you’re taking in; your thoughts are still clouded from the night’s events. The warmth of Suguru’s presence, his steady support, makes it easier to keep going. When you reach your door, he stops, giving you the space to find your keys in your pocket. You fumble a little, but Suguru doesn’t rush you. He stands patiently, his thumb still grazing the side of your hip. He’s careful not to crowd you too much, but there’s an undeniable sense of protectiveness in the way he stands close.

Finally, you manage to find your key. You glance up at Suguru, your eyes a little foggy. “Thank you… for everything.”

He smiles down at you, the warmth in his expression making your chest tighten a little. “It’s nothing, really. Just doing what’s right.”

You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else, but the words slip out before you can stop them. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen slightly but his smile softenn. His hand traveling up to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll always be around when you need me.”

There’s a quiet beat between you two, the silence saying more than words ever could. You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to keep the emotions from overwhelming you. You gently bite your bottom lip, the action causing his eyes to flicker down towards it. “I just…I feel like I haven’t been having anyone on my side lately. I’m…I’m glad I have you.” 

His insides practically melt at your soft, drunken tone of voice and the way you’re gazing up at him. Suguru feels his heart shift, warmth pooling in his chest at your vulnerability. He’s never seen you quite like this, so open and raw, and it makes him want to protect you in a way that’s deeper than he expected. The softness in your voice, the way you lean into him—it all pulls him in closer, making his resolve weaken just a bit. He swallows hard, stepping a little closer to you, but trying to keep his distance, knowing that you’re vulnerable right now, not fully in control of your emotions.

“Y/N,” he says gently, his voice low but steady. He reaches for your hands, lifting them from where you were gripping the door, and holds them softly in his. “I'm not the only one, I promise. But I’m always going to have your back. You never have to feel alone, okay? We all go through tough times, but you’re not carrying it on your own.”

You nod slowly, eyes glimmering with a mix of gratitude and something else he can’t quite place. Your fingers curl around his as if you’re grounding yourself in his touch, a small comfort in the sea of uncertainty.

“You’re not like the others, Suguru,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. “You make me feel… safe.”

The words hang in the air, delicate and full of meaning. Suguru’s chest tightens again, but this time it’s not from concern or pity—it’s from something else. Something warm, something that feels a little dangerous, but right. He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing, as he registers the way you’re looking at him.

“You’re safe with me,” he says softly, his voice almost a promise. “You always will be.”

You both stand there in the quiet, the weight of everything between you—everything unsaid—lingering. Suguru’s hand reaches up, brushing your hair away from your face again, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary, like he’s trying to convey something in that simple touch. 

You blink, breaking the moment just enough to step back. “I should go inside.”

Suguru nods, not forcing anything further. He understands. “Yeah, go get some rest. Drink that water, and don’t forget about the bread.”

You tiredly smile, looking back at your door and putting the key in its hole. But, you find yourself hesitating. Movements stilling as thoughts overwhelmed your already vulnerable brain. You’re looking back at him before you know it. 

His eyebrows raise. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head in response, your heart beating faster. He says nothing, just allowing the little staring contest to continue on. For some reason, it’s making you not want to face your reality. God, it’s the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing to him. How stuck he feels, how guilty he feels and how perfect it all feels at the same time. It’s almost not fair.

Maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve experienced more shit than you would’ve wanted to tonight—and of course, you’re a lightweight. Hence why you don’t really like drinking in the first place. But you’ve needed one recently. 

So yeah, your balance is not very steady, your head feels light but heavy at the same time, your lips are curved up into a smile on their own and your calculations are a little miscalculated. 

Because you could swear that with the way he’s looking at you now, his lids the slightest bit hooded that one could miss it, his tilted head, and the way he’s leaned in close enough that you can smell his intoxicating cologne…he’s looking tempted. 

And to be honest, so are you. 

The night air is suddenly quiet, you’ve been staring into his eyes for who knows how long now and your breathing feels shallower. It feels like a sappy romance movie you watched when you were a tween and wished upon a star that one day it would happen to you. Except it’s not the person you would’ve exactly wanted. But your body is still reacting all the same. 

What does that mean for you?

Your key is still lodged in the hole of your door, seemingly frozen—but awaiting. He leans in and your eyelids flutter. “I’m sorry.”

“F-for what…?”

“For being such a selfish man right now.” He places a steady hand to your waist as your body swayed backwards again. 

It’s just the alcohol talking. “I-it’s okay…”

“Is it?” He mutters, breath fanning your face. 

This time, you lean closer, practically moving up to your tip-toes. You notice the way his eyes have darkened, glancing down at your pink, parted lips. “Yeah, I think…I want to be selfish too.”

He smiles, matching your drunken one. Your right hand raises to his cheek, admiring the heat that wavers off of it. You think you want more of his magnetic heat. He doesn’t move, allowing you to do the work. Maneuvering your head up to close the rest of the distance. And you’re so close, so very close that you could practically lick his lips if you wanted.

His lips part, making space for your own to slot between them. Just when you’re about to—

Your door yanks open from the inside, jolting you back to reality. Eyes wide and looking over at the culprit.

Oh, fuck.

Satoru stands in your doorway, hair poking up at all different angles, jaw clenched and saccharine eyes darting around at the sight in front of him, of what he just interrupted. And it feels like you’ve just been burned, pulling back and away from Suguru like you’ve been caught cheating. Suguru matches your actions, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “S-Satoru…” you mutter, swallowing. 

“What’s this?” He asks, looking between you and his best friend. “He brought you home?”

“I—”

“She called me to pick her and her friend up, Satoru.” Suguru interrupts, meeting his friend with undeterred eye contact. 

However, that seems to be just the icing on top for Satoru. Turning his gaze towards you, looking up and down quickly. “…So…I’m watching our son while you go ahead and get yourself shitfaced, you’re gone for hours without any call or text to let me know you’re okay, and when you come back… you’re about to…kiss my fucking best friend?”

“Sato—”

“Shut the fuck up, Suguru.” He gives his friend a death glare, taking a step outside and forcing you to take a wobbly one back. Suguru doesn’t move. “Tell me, huh. You think I’m an idiot?”

“Satoru,” you reach out for his arm, but promptly pull back when he looks back at you. 

“And to think,” he scoffs, regarding you with an icy coldness that feels completely foreign to you. “I thought we had it okay for once. And now you’re fucking my best friend behind my back?”

“No! N-no, Suguru and I aren’t doing that.” You quickly protest. 

He simply scoffs and Suguru steps back in between you two. “Satoru, calm down, okay? We weren’t doing anything. Y/N’s been having a tough time and I’m just here to help her through that.”

“By what? Forcing yourself into her life? Into my son’s life? Who the hell do you think you are, Suguru?” He pushes the other man by his shoulder, to which Suguru does not fight back. 

You grimace, pulling back on his shirt. “Satoru, stop it, please. We aren’t doing anything like that.”

“Bullshit!” He snaps, throwing his arms up. “He gives you and Koji a present. I find his fucking shirt in your hamper, and now I just caught you two about to kiss. Did you fucking forget I was inside? Were you going to bring him inside and let him fuck you?”

Your mouth is agape, eyes blown wide at the accusations. The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and unable to form a coherent thought. Satoru’s accusations sting, each one harsher than the last. His anger is palpable, the venom in his voice making it hard to breathe, and yet all you can do is stand there in stunned silence, feeling the weight of the situation crash down on you.

“No... Satoru, I—I didn’t—” You struggle to find the words, but nothing seems to come out right. How do you explain something that’s so far from the truth but also so complicated in its own way? 

Suguru, his expression tight with frustration, steps forward, clearly trying to keep the situation from spiraling even further. "Satoru, this isn’t the way to handle it. Y/N’s been through a lot, and I'm just trying to be there for her. That’s all it is."

“You think that makes a difference?” Satoru spits, turning back to Suguru with a glare that could burn. “You think you can just waltz in, playing hero, and it’s all fine? You don’t get to play the martyr here. Not with my family.”

You flinch at the mention of Koji, feeling the sting of his words even more sharply now. "Satoru, please," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Don’t talk about him like that. You know I would never—" 

But Satoru cuts you off with a sharp gesture, his eyes dark with fury. "No, you don’t get to explain yourself anymore. I saw it. I know what was happening."

Your heart races as the silence hangs heavy between you, Suguru and Satoru locked in a tense standoff. You can feel the weight of the accusations pressing down on you, suffocating you.

“I’m sorry, okay?” you manage, the words coming out in a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry. But I swear, nothing was going to happen. Nothing. I just... I didn’t know what else to do.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches. Suguru looks between you both, his eyes softening just a fraction, but there’s nothing left to say. You’re standing at the edge of everything, and you don’t know how to fix this, how to make Satoru believe you.

“Satoru, Y/N’a a grown woman.” Suguru says. 

“Yeah? And what, that makes you a grown man?” 

Once more, Suguru is pushed by Satoru. You can see the growing irritability in Suguru’s expression, the way he’s doing his best to not give in and fight with his best friend. You’re torn, unsure of how you can stop this. Sure, you punched a man today, but he was a bitch. That doesn’t mean you can stop a possible  fight between two other men. “Please, don’t raise your voice, Satoru. I don’t want to wake Koji.”

“Oh, now you fucking care?” He huffs out. And that sentence alone puts a halt to you. Your mind momentarily freezes, going silent. He almost looks like he regrets the words as soon as they’re uttered, but it’s drowned out by his look of anger. 

Soon…you’re mirroring his fury. 

“What?” You quietly ask, letting out a deep huff. “What? What the fuck did you just say to me?”

This time, it’s you who pushes the pusher. He stumbles back barely, caught off guard by your suddenness before he’s planting himself in place. “Don’t touch me, Y/N.”

“Then don’t you ever say something like that! I’ve done everything I could for Koji and more. You had no idea what kind of shit I went through alone.” You grit out. 

“Because of you! Because of your own stupid decision to not let me in, let me help you!” He argues back. He's right. He's always right. And that’s why you two could never work together because while Satoru was always right, you were always wrong. They say opposites attract, when actually, opposites do nothing prove what the other could never be.

And after the events of tonight, you’re growing tired of holding back your explosion. Your drunken brain is telling you to fight fire with fire. 

“Because you were a fucking shitty person!” You shout back, aware of the fact that your loud voice may cause some of your neighbors to wake up. Koji to wake up. “And now you’re getting mad at me for trying to move on? For trying to live my life? Fuck you! You have a fucking girlfriend who treats me like shit and you let it happen!”

“You want to play that game, Y/N? Really?” Satoru replies, a dead firmness in his tone. 

Before you can respond, Suguru, ever the peacemaker, is cutting in again. “Y/N, stop it, okay? Go inside, you’re drunk. Satoru, don’t—”

He’s cut off by another push from Satoru. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do, Suguru. You’re trying to get with my ex behind my back, is that how low you’ve become?”

“Satoru,” he slowly exhales out, trying to calm himself. “I’m not doing that. Y/N and I aren’t getting together. I’m just being here for her.”

“By trying to get in bed with her?”

Suguru has begun to have enough. “Stop speaking like that, Satoru.” He gruffs out.

The atmosphere crackles with tension, and your pulse races as Satoru’s words hit harder than before, each one a slap in the face. You can feel the anger bubbling up inside you, pushing you past the point of control, past the point of regret. This argument feels like it’s never going to end—like it’s been building for years, simmering beneath the surface, only now it’s boiling over in a mess of accusations and past hurts.

Satoru’s sneer deepens as he stares you down. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? I’m not stupid, Y/N. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes now. You think you’re going to move on with him after everything?”

You step closer to him, barely noticing the way your hands are trembling, your heart pounding in your chest and tears prickling at your eyes. “I’m not moving on with anyone. Not like you think. But you—” You pause, trying to steady your breath. “You’ve had no idea what I’ve been through. You’ve walked away at times when I needed you the most, Satoru. Don’t fucking act like I owe you anything now.”

Satoru’s expression darkens, his hands balling into fists, but you don’t flinch. “I’m sorry if you think I don’t care, but I’ve been in the fucking trenches with you, Y/N. Do you think it was easy for me too? To watch you shut me out? To watch you fucking struggle with everything while I—while I—tried to be there for you? But I was never enough, was I?” His voice cracks with a mix of frustration and disbelief, but it’s too much. It’s too late for apologies and explanations. You feel your vision blur with tears, and for a brief moment, you almost crumble under the weight of the argument, the hurt, the feeling of being misunderstood.

“You knew you could’ve tried hard enough. You knew that, you know that.” You argue, despite your shaky voice. 

His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Suguru steps forward, intervening again, his voice low and firm, but there’s a warning in it. “Enough, Satoru. You’re not hearing her. This isn’t about you anymore.”

Satoru’s fists clench at his sides, his jaw tight with frustration. “It’s always been about me, Suguru. It’s always been about what I need, what I want. And now you want to play the hero? To take my place in my own fucking life?”

Suguru shakes his head, his expression hardening. “No, I’m not trying to take your place. But you’re blind if you don’t see how much she’s suffered. How much she’s going through. And how much you’re still hurting her by dragging all this up now.”

“Shut up,” Satoru snaps, and his voice is harsh enough to make you flinch. “I don’t need a lecture from you, not now.”

Suguru doesn’t back down, his eyes never leaving Satoru’s. “Then maybe you should take a fucking look at yourself first.”

For a moment, the three of you stand there in silence, the tension thick enough to slice through. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning with a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. The words you’ve been holding back for so long feel too much to bear, too raw to say out loud, but now they’re there, sitting on your tongue, threatening to spill.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of everything is overwhelming. Your hands tremble as you press them against your sides, eyes focusing on the ground to keep from breaking down. But the words, the truth you’ve been holding inside for so long, feel like they’re going to suffocate you if you don’t let them out.

“I didn’t mean for this, Satoru. I didn’t mean for any of it,” you finally say, your voice thick with emotion. Your chest tightens, your breath shaky as you look at him, the tears threatening to fall. “But now you’re standing here, making it worse, blaming me for everything. I’m always getting blamed, no matter what. For trying to find happiness. For surviving.” You swallow hard, your voice quieter but still filled with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “But you don’t get to make me feel bad about trying to heal, Satoru. You don’t get to make me feel like I’m the one who ruined everything when you were the one who stopped trying.”

Suguru’s gaze flickers to you, a flicker of concern flashing across his face, but it’s Satoru who you focus on. The silence stretches, suffocating, before he speaks again, his tone hard, bitter, but with a hint of something deeper—something vulnerable. “I never wanted to leave you,” he mutters, almost too quietly. “But you shut me out. You kept pushing me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You didn’t try hard enough to matter,” you shoot back, your voice a little stronger now. “You didn’t try to understand. You didn’t try to see me. You only saw what you wanted, what fit into your world. And I couldn’t do that anymore. I couldn’t just keep being this thing that existed to meet your needs, while I fell apart. I couldn’t.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker, and for a moment, you swear you see something break in him. But it’s gone just as quickly as it appears, replaced by the cold, hardened exterior he’s been wearing for so long. “You think this is easy for me?” he spits, voice laced with something that could be self-loathing. “You think it’s easy watching you—watching him—take over everything I thought was mine? That’s not fair either, Y/N.”

“You don’t own me, Satoru,” you whisper, the words coming out stronger than you expect. “You never did.”

Suguru steps forward again, his voice steady but firm. “Enough. This isn’t going anywhere. It’s just going to keep hurting both of you.”

But Satoru isn’t listening. His fists clench again, his jaw tight as he shakes his head, the hurt flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I ever could.”

The rawness in his voice catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. The anger and resentment still burn in your chest, but beneath it all, you realize that maybe, just maybe, there’s still something left. Something that isn’t as broken as you thought.

But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for him.

With a shaky breath, you look away, your heart heavy in your chest, and turn toward the door. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Satoru. It’s done.”

Suguru’s hand rests gently on your shoulder as you walk past, his silent support a comfort, even though the pain doesn’t fade. And Satoru stays there, his fists trembling at his sides, caught between regret and anger, as you step back into your home and shut the door behind you.

The tears overcoming your being once you’re locked inside, taking the jackets off haphazardly and tossing your purse onto the sofa. Holding a hand to your mouth to muffle your cries as you walk past Koji’s door and to your own room, silently shutting and locking it. 

You crumble into your bed, holding your pillow close, and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Letting your warm tears wash your makeup away and stain your white pillow. Feeling your body trembling from every sensation flowing through it right now. You feel your heart pick up way too fast for your liking and you’re almost sure you’re breathing at an erratic pace right now. 

You feel like no matter what, you can never do good in your life. You fucked up tonight by trying to kiss Suguru, you fucked up by keeping Koji a secret, you fucked up by even going out in the first place. 

Everything is crumbling down at you all at once and you think it’s about time you toss the rag in. Because everyone has their breaking point, you’re not sure if you hit yours yet, but it damn well feels like you have. And now you’ve probably broken up a years long friendship due to your own selfishness, to your own stupid intoxication. You’re wrong in every aspect. Everything is eating you alive right now, leaving just a hollow suit in its place. 

You wonder how things will look going forward. 

And you wonder if you’ve ruined any little chance at possibly having Satoru in your grasp again. 

A small knock pulls your attention, shifting your eyes open and looking over to the small head that peeks through. Oh god, this is the last thing you wanted. 

“Mama…” Koji’s small voice utters, slipping inside and coming over to your curled up form on the bed. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

You wish you had it in you to put on a poker face and dry your tears, giving him the usual lie. But tonight, you can’t. “…mama’s sad.” You whisper. 

His eyes widen, lip quivering down into a pout. Eyes glistening with his own onset of tears and he’s diving into your bed, scrambling up to your chest. Wrapping his tiny arms around your neck in such a fast way that it leaves you momentarily speechless. When he looks at you, you almost feel yourself wanting to cry harder at the sole fact that your son is seeing you like this, that he’s almost crying now too. “Please don’t cry, Mama. I don’t like you being sad.”

“I…I know.” You croak out, holding him close. “I know, Koji. And I’m…I’m so sorry. I can’t be strong today.”

He shakes his head furiously. “It’s okay! Because Papa told me that when I grow up, I’ll protect you. I’ll be strong and big like him. So…so maybe I can be strong today for you, Mama.”

Your heart shatters at his words, and despite the weight of everything that’s been crushing you, you hold him even tighter. The fragile little boy who’s trying so desperately to comfort you when he should be the one you’re protecting—it’s too much. You can’t hold back the flood of emotions anymore. You pull him into you, your arms trembling, but all you can do is let him in, letting his warmth and innocence wrap around your heart like a fragile balm.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “You don’t have to be strong for me. You’re so strong already just by being you.” You bury your face in his hair, feeling his small body pressing against yours, his little heartbeat steady and comforting in a way nothing else can be. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this, Koji. I promise I’ll be okay.”

Koji’s small hands rub at your back, and his voice, though still a little quivery, carries the same hope and determination he always carries. “I’m gonna help you, Mama. I’ll make you smile again, okay? I promise.” His words, simple as they are, strike a chord deep inside, reminding you of everything you’ve fought for. You’ve fought to protect him, to give him a better life, to shield him from all the pain and hurt that came with being tied to Satoru, and now you’re breaking down in front of him. It feels so pathetic. 

But maybe you need to be broken in order to rebuild. Maybe it’s okay to let him see your fragility, so he knows it’s okay to feel and not bottle everything up. 

You breathe out a shaky laugh, lifting him slightly to kiss his forehead. “You’re my little hero, Koji. I’m so proud of you. I don’t deserve you.”

Koji, however, just shakes his head again, his small face scrunching up in determination. “No, Mama. I’m not a hero. You’re my hero. You always are.”

And somehow, in the midst of the mess you’ve found yourself in, his innocent words are the only thing grounding you. You’re not alone. You’re not broken beyond repair. You still have him. You still have him to fight for, to love, and to protect.

And right now, that’s all that matters. 

You hold him close, sinking deeper into your bed, feeling his small body curl up against you. The weight of the world still feels heavy on your shoulders, but for a brief moment, with Koji’s warmth surrounding you, you feel the tiniest flicker of hope. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe you’ll figure things out. 

But for now, you let yourself cry. You let yourself grieve. Because tomorrow is another day.

a/n: soo many things happeneddddd. hoped u all enjoyed :)

taglist is now closed

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[dulcescorderitas]

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 C.Kent

warnings: fluff, violence, maybe angst? also featuring lex luthor

the late afternoon sun hung low over smallville, stretching long shadows across the dirt road you walked. the fields were quiet except for the occasional rustle of wind through the crops, and you thought it’d be a peaceful walk home. but then, out of nowhere, something dark and monstrous charged at you from the trees, its guttural shriek slicing through the stillness.

you barely had time to react before a streak of red and blue slammed into it—clark. he wrestled the creature to the ground with impossible strength, gritting his teeth as it snarled and snapped back. the battle between them was intense, dust and dirt kicking up in clouds around their bodies.

a sharp gust of wind signaled another arrival. lex stepped out of a sleek black helicopter, his suit crisp despite the chaos around him. of course, he had to make an entrance.

“of course you’re here,” clark growled, pinning the creature’s thrashing limbs to the ground. “you always show up when something like this happens.”

“and you always manage to make a mess,” lex snapped back, striding closer. his calm, confident demeanor made your stomach twist. “you don’t think, kent. one wrong move, and someone gets hurt.”

clark shoved the creature down harder, his jaw clenching. “maybe if people like you weren’t making problems like this—”

“don’t start with me,” lex interrupted, his voice sharp. “this thing isn’t my doing. i’m here to help. unlike you, i can actually handle it without endangering the people i care about.”

“people you control, you mean,” clark fired back, standing now, towering over lex as the creature writhed in the dirt between them. “you don’t care about anyone unless they’re useful to you.”

the tension between them grew like a storm cloud, and for a moment, it seemed like they’d completely forgotten about the danger at their feet. that was when the creature broke free. it lunged at you before either of them could react, its claws raking across your shoulder. pain shot through you like fire, and you stumbled back with a sharp cry.

clark was there in an instant, driving the creature back, his fists striking like thunder. lex wasn’t far behind, pulling a sleek, futuristic weapon from his coat. together, they finally put the monster down, clark’s strength and lex’s technology combining in a final, brutal blow.

but as the creature collapsed into a lifeless heap, their attention immediately turned back to each other.

“you let it get past you,” lex snapped, his voice biting. “you were too focused on me to do your job.”

“and you think a weapon fixes everything?” clark shot back, his hands clenched into fists. “you’re so obsessed with being in control that you forget what actually matters.”

“stop it!” your voice cut through the rising argument. they both froze, turning to you. “this isn’t about you! i just got attacked, and all you two can do is fight?”

guilt flickered across both their faces as they finally seemed to notice the blood on your shoulder, the way you cradled your arm. clark stepped toward you first, his expression softening. “are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

lex wasn’t far behind, already pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to press against the wound. “you need this cleaned and treated,” he said matter-of-factly, his sharp green eyes focused on the cut.

“clark’s got it,” you said, your hand reaching for the farm boy. you felt the warmth of his skin under your fingers, steady and reassuring in a way that made your heart ache. clark’s gaze softened further as he met your eyes, his concern washing over you like sunlight breaking through clouds.

lex stepped back, his jaw tight, but he didn’t argue. “fine,” he said after a long pause. “but if you change your mind, i’ll be waiting.”

you watched him leave, the hum of his helicopter fading into the distance. when you turned back to clark, he was already looking at you, his blue eyes filled with an open, quiet devotion that made you feel safe despite everything that had just happened.

“come on,” he said gently, slipping his arm around you. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

his touch was warm, grounding you as you leaned into him. the sky above was painted in deep oranges and purples as the sun set over the fields, but you barely noticed. clark’s presence was all you needed.

taglist: @legalmente-loca

[tpwk-formula1]

heyy, may i have a gluten-free pizza with red sauce (teammates maybe..?) (rivals since the lower categories, since childhood, mainly because the reader is a woman and would win from liam)

Served by liam lawson

For toppings i'll have: tomatoes, buffalo chicken, gorgonzola and parmesan cheese, meatball, pulled pork, anchovies, sweet onions buratta, fontina, kielbasa and turkey meatballs

For drinking i'll have: coke, sprite, dr pepper, pepsi(r!receiving), diet pepsi, white claw, truly, vodka redbull, and mojitoooo (liam doesn't know) (its female!reader by the way)

Yes for dessert!!

I know it's a lot, so you can use just a few of then, i sent several just so you could choose whatever you'd like!!

Feel free to decline if you do not like what I have suggested!

(Sorry if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language!)

-🐝

Liam Lawson x Fem!reader

AN: I definitely went a little off script and I also had to take a few of the prompts out otherwise the entire dialogue would be the prompts or it would be VERY long... I did my best to involved as many of the kinks as I could and I kept the general Virgin! reader thoughts!

I in good faith could not have Liam roughly fucking a girl who is a virgin who is clearly not enjoying herself sobbing, so I did kind of change that part!

TW: protected sex, rough, toys, multiple orgasms, slight spanking, rivals

WC: 2.2K

gluten free rivals red sauce rough sex tomatoes "Do you enjoy pissing me off?" buffalo chicken "Such a fucking crybaby, just fucking take it all" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" parmesan "Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again" meatball "Why do you always have to complain?" pulled pork "God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you" anchovies "How are you already drenched" sweet onions "Are you done complaining?" buratta "How many was that? three... I think you can give me another" fontina "wipe that fucking smirk off your face" kielbasa "A preschooler is better behaved than you are" turkey meatballs “Stop crying, I’m far from done” coke spanking sprite size kink dr pepper dirty talk pepsi oral kink diet pepsi biting white claw crying truly belly bulge vodka red bull squirting mojito loss of virginity dessert yes served by Liam Lawson

Y/N POV

"Do you enjoy pissing me off?" I hear Liam ask as I'm walking out of my first official Redbull meeting. After Max announced he was expecting his first child Christian Horner called me up and we started talking about the possibility of me joining the team sooner than planned.

"Lawson, what the fuck are you complaing about now?" I sign turning my full attention to the blond man in front of me.

"Are you kidding me? You're my new fucking teammate and I find out with the rest of the world? Why didn't you tell me?" He asks making me laugh slightly.

"Lawson, I've been driving with RB for the past two years, I feel like you could have used your brain to realize I was probably gonna be the replacement," I say with an eye roll.

"God, you always have the worst fucking attitude," Liam says with an eye roll making me shake my head.

"Are you done complaining? Cause last I checked I have never and will never owe you jack shit. Next time redirect your pissy attitude to someone who gives a fuck." I say with a finale tone before walking towards my car.

It's only been a few days when I hear a knock at my hotel door. The whole Red Bull team was staying near the factory due to the season being so close and needing to make sure we where all accessable at any moment.

When I open the door I see the last person I'm expecting to see.

"What do you need Lawson?" I question while keeping the door mostly closed.

"You haven't been answering the group chat so Christian wanted me to check in on you and make sure you settled in okay," Liam tells me with a straight voice.

"Well, you see me. I'm clearly fine," I saw while trying to close the door but Liam being the pest that he is pushes it open.

Given I was staying in a standard hotel room not feeling the need to have some massive penthouse for a hotel room I know it takes Liam little to no time to see the vibrator sitting on my bed.

"Oh! This is what you've been doing. I'll be sure to report back to Christian," Liam says laughing with a smirk while eyeing the pink vibrator.

"Liam, please," I say why trying to push the door closed. While I may be stronger than the average 5'9 man Liam being an athlete on the same workout plan as me was no match. Liam happily invites himself into my room making his way towards my bed with a smirk plastered on his face.

I just groan and close the door before anyone who could be in the hallway can see Red Bulls newest drivers fights.

"Liam, wipe that fucking smirk off your face before I slap you," I say calmly but with a bitter undertone. I watch Liam turn slowly towards me before walking towards me. Like a scene out of any movie I start backing up until my back hits the door.

"Liam, this is by far one of the most embassiring moments of my life, I would like for it to end sooner rather than later," I say weakly.

"Oh come on sweetheart, if you need to cum so bad let me help you," Liam says with a smirk making my face completely fall.

"Wh-what?" I ask in a soft stutter.

"Oh, please. Don't act like you've never thought about this. How good all our tension could be between the sheets," Liam whispers softly into the shell of my ear making my breath hitch slightly.

"Liam, this is so weird," I say in a matching whisper before laughing softly at the whole situation. I notice sometime in my soft laughing fit my hands landed on Liam's sides and my fingers where softly pressing into the fabric of his shirt.

"Sorry," I say softly pulling hands away which only has Liam grabbing both of my wrists and pinning them against the door.

"Tell me to stop," Liam says with his mouth hovering over mine. I just stare up into his eyes before letting them drop to his lips. He's impossible close and while I thought I hated him, I don't think I've ever been this turned on in my entire life.

"Goddamn it Y/N tell me to fucking stop!" Liam says this time in a bit of a louder and firmer voice making me clench my thighs a bit tighter.

"No," I reply softly and not a second later Liam's lips were on mine in a bruising force.

"Fuck," I whimper out when Liam pulls away to catch our breathes.

"Come on," Liam says roughly pulling my body towards him and dragging me towards the bed.

"I bet I can make you cum better than this stupid thing," Liam says with a scoff falling from his lips.

Liam has me pushed onto the bed spreading my legs where he can finally see this whole time I was just in a large shirt clearly having been thrown on in a hurry to try and cover what I had previously been doing.

I can feel Liam's eyes racking my body and while normally it was make me uncomfortable being seen in such a compromising position under Liam's gaxe I can't help but feel slightly giddy.

"But first, I'm gonna remind you what cumming from this feels like," Liam says flipping the vibrator on and wasting no time in placing it on my already throbbing clit.

"Oh fuck," I whimper throwing my head back and arching slightly. I don't think my vibrator has ever felt this good and I know he's still only on the first speed setting.

Liam hits the + bottom a few times turning the speed up making me cry out even louder.

"Fuck! Liam slow it down!" I cry feeling my orgasm building up at an embarrassingly fast pace.

"Are you always this fucking loud?" Liam asks with venom laced in his voice only making me whimper loudly.

Liam could tell I was close based on how loud I was getting which had him turning up the speed to full Max throwing me over the edge within moments.

"Shit! Fuck, Liam!" I cry out while continuing to feel wave after wave of my orgasm.

Liam wastes no time pulling the vibe off my clit, turning it off and throwing it somewhere in the room. Without giving me a second to come down from my previous orgasm he's attached his mouth to my clit while slipping a finger into my pussy.

"Fuck," I moan letting my eyes grow wide feeling myself be filled by just about anything for the first time. Liam picked up on my change and quickly pulled his mouth and fingers away from my soaked pussy.

"What? What happened? Are you okay?" Liam asks quickly searching my eyes for answers. I can feel my cheeks heat realize that I was going to have to be honest.

"I-uh shit, okay I've never done anything like this," I say softly hoping Liam picks up what I was putting down.

"Y/N what? You mean to tell me you've never been touched by a man?" Liam asks looking at me with a raised brow but I can still see a faint smirk playing on his lips. I shake my head too embarrassed to speak.

"I wish you would have said something, I would have came with a bit of a different approach," Liam admits clearly slightly embarrassed with himself.

"No! I'm a big girl, I would have told you no if I wanted you to stop, I liked it, and I liked when you started fingering me, it was just a new sensation," I sit up slightly trying to reassure him.

"Fuck, you're something else," Liam says slightly with a small laugh falling from his lips. I bring my hands up to his face pulling him in for another kiss.

"Don't change whatever plan you had for me," I mumble against his lips making a small chuckle leave his lips.

"I don't plan on it," Liam says while flipping me over by my hips and pulling me so I'm on all fours.

When I feel the slap land on my ass I can't help the loud whimper I let out.

"Ow! Liam!" I cry out only making him spank my ass again.

"That hurts Lawson," I say while trying to wiggle my hips away making him pull me back exactly where he wants me.

"Awe, did that hurts? Tuff cause I'm gonna do it again," Liam says before landing another slap on my ass.

I brace myself for another slap but I'm not prepared for him slipping his fingers into my drenched pussy making me whimper at the feeling once again.

When he finds my G-spot I instantly see stars making me grip the comforter tighter between my fingers.

"Fuck Liam," I moan feeling my tears start to streak down my face from the overwhelming feeling.

"I'm close," I moan out weakly.

"I can tell, cum for me," Liam says fingering me harder making me instantly let go and start squirting all over the bed.

"Oh fuck," I moan loudly while Liam continues to finger me through my orgasm.

"Holy shit, so fucking hot," Liam groans while I feel him stripping the rest of his clothes before he's flipping me back to my back so I'm facing him.

When I notice his pale chest I can't help but let my eyes fall down to his already hard and leaking cock.

"Fuck, I take it back, please go slow," I tell Liam when I notice his size is massive and far thicker than I ever thought was possible.

"I was planning on it," Liam says with a small chuckle.

"Do you have any protection?" I ask softly making Liam laugh before climbing off the bed to find his pants.

"I almost am always carrying one," Liam admits with his cheeks reddening in a blush.

"Slutty," I tease with a small lip falling from my lips.

Once the condom was rolled on Liam climbed back into bed and leans down pulling me in for another kiss.

While we are making out I barely notice Liam's tip teasing my clit but the second he starts pushing into me the grip I had on his shoulders only tightens while I whine into his mouth.

"God damn it! You're so fucking tight," Liam grunts as he slowly pushes into my pussy making me try to relax as much as possible.

Once he has fully filled my pussy he sits back slightly letting me adjust to his size.

"Move, please," I whimper slightly making Liam pulls back his hips just a little before slowly pushing back into me. He continued to slowly fucking my pussy allowing me to fully adjust to his thick size.

"Fuck, faster," I moan when the slight pain had turned fully into pleasure.

Liam starts fucking me at a bit of a faster pace making me arch my back and moan loudly feeling the most amount of pleasure I've ever had.

"Fuck so good," I moan out feeling the tears start once again making Liam look down and smirk at me.

"Fucking you so good you're crying," Liam says with a smirk speeding his thrusts up more making me see stars from how good he was fucking me.

"Fuck, harder," I moan letting my nails dig into the skin of his back leaving scratches behind.

Liam's thrusts pick up in pace and become harder making me feel my orgasm start to build once again.

"I'm gonna cum," I cry out once again.

"Cum for me, I'm fucking close," Liam groans leaning down and pulling in for another kiss and while he pulls away he slightly bites my lip, making me moan at the feeling.

I start cumming for a third time tonight triggering Liam to start cumming and filling up the cum.

"Fuck," Liam grunts as he sends one final thrust deep into my pussy.

Once we've both come down from our highs he softly slips out of my pussy before climbing out of bed. When he heads into the connected bathroom making me sit up slightly feeling the soreness already.

When I successfully make it into the bathroom I find Liam wetting a warm washcloth.

"Y/N what are you doing? I was coming back for you," Liam tells me with a soft smile while he approaches me quickly lifting me in his arms before he sets me down on the counter.

"You did good," Liam tells me while he softly starts wiping my body with the rag while he plants soft kisses on my shoulders.

"You were mid," I tease making Liam look up at me with a smirk.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," I saying rolling my eyes while taking a teasing swat at his cheek barely even grazing his skin before I grip his chin between my fingers and pull him in for another kiss.

"I still hate you," I say between kisses.

"You don't," Likam replies back with a small laugh.

Liam pulls me into his arms and carries me back in bed. Before he lays me on the bed he notices the soaked sheets.

"We're staying in my room," Liam whispers against my lips before helping me get dressed and helping me walk across the hall given my Shakey legs.

"Round 2?" I tease making Liam laugh and shake his head... We did end up having round 2.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Sorry this isn’t a holiday hc just a regular one:

I was thinking about all the talk about redstone ppe from a while back and have decided who I think uses it and who I think doesn’t.

Gloves, respirator, long sleeves, and goggles: Tango and Mumbo. Mumbo has the constitution of a starving Victorian orphan so he’s not risking it and Tango is just super into redstone safety rules. This also goes for most Hermits who don’t usually use redstone because they don’t want Tango to find out they did something unsafe and have to sit through his hour long presentation on PPE again. He gives the same lecture twice a year at Hermit meetings.

Gloves, long sleeves, and goggles: Impulse, Etho, and Doc. Impulse hates getting sweaty on his face even if he knows it isn’t safe and Etho says it’s fine because he’s already wearing a mask. Doc claims that enough of his body is cybernetics that breathing in redstone doesn’t actually do anything to him.

Gloves, respirator, and goggles: Xisuma. His helmet kind of works as goggles and a mask by default and he’s always wearing gloves. Since he doesn’t wear long sleeves he sometimes walks around with streaks of red staining his arms which, yes, does make Tango crazy.

Just gloves and a regular mask: Zed. Has been lectured many times about this over the years and claims that it’s because goggles fog up too much and stop him from seeing what he’s doing, but he actually just doesn’t own any and always forgets that fact until right before he’s about to make something. He’s constantly blinking sweat and dust out of his eyes while he works. It’s a miracle he hasn’t done any damage to his eyes yet.

Nothing: Pearl, the servers newest redstone prodigy and its least careful. She has been lectured by both X and Tango about how unsafe this is but she likes to be able to feel and see what she is doing without any obstruction. Coughed up redstone for days because she made all of DyeDuction with no PPE on and Tango didn’t know whether to be proud or deeply concerned. The red staining on her hands also took weeks to go away and left mild chemical burns. Currently working on her ballroom redstone also without any PPE and has begged Hermits who found out to not tell Tango, especially because it’s for the “secret club”. He knows anyways because she keeps showing up for Hungry Hermits rounds with red eyes and hands.

How to get an instant lecture: tell Tango you thought his eyes got like that from redstone exposure.

-Mod Mleem

[totallyanopossum]

Call of duty

Ghost babysits

WC: 3.1k

Link to story master list

Warning: mentions of past abuse, violence and rape

Part 1, please stay

- knock knock knock-

Price answers the door, Ghosts right on time to babysit his niece.

G- “Captain”

P- “ right on time, come in”

Ghost wasn't given details other than ‘come over and babysit for 2 days’ but who was he to refuse orders from his captain. He can surely keep a child alive for 2 days.

But when he sees a grown up looking girl come around the corner he's confused. Is this who he's babysitting or does Price have a very young bird? When Price pats the girl's shoulder and walks it confirms this is who he's watching, only giving him more questions.

Y/N-“ so your Ghost?”

G- “ yea”

They just stand awkwardly in the entrance hall. Ghost is very confused, questions running through his mind, and she's just embarrassed.

G- “ Aren't you a bit old to need a babysitter”

Y/N-“ he didn't tell you why you're really here?”

G- “ wasn't given details”

Y/N-“ means he doesn't want you to know, of course he's ashamed”

She shakes her head and walks off to the living room, this feels riddance she hasn't had a babysitter since she was 10. She sits on the couch and unpauses the movie she was watching.

Ghost is intrigued, of course Captain wouldn't tell him the full story, Ghost loves to unravel a mystery. These next 2 days have just gotten a lot more interesting, now he's got a time table to solve this mastery.

He follows after her and sits on the couch,he looks to see what's playing hoping it's not some annoying drivel, and pleasantly surprised to find it's the star wars a new hope playing.

Y/N-“ what kinda pizza do you like?”

G- “ what?”

Y/N-“ im ordering pizza what do you want”

G- “ meat lovers pizza large”

He watches her tap away on her phone ordering their dinner, he walked in here worrying how to make a kid eat its vegetables but now she's the one ordering the food. All expectations have gone out the window.

They enjoy their pizza and star wars in comfortable silence. He's a big guy who eats a lot but she matched him slice for slice putting away more pizza then her little body should have been capable of, he found that quite captivating. Most birds he's seen won't eat more than a few bites in front of lads, he's always found that a tab annoying, sustenance is important.

Afterwards she sticks her hand between the couch cushions pulling something and the couch section she's on reclines and a foot rest pops out. He wonders if his section does that too. So he copies her actions and reaches between the cushion to his left but finds nothing. While he's turned to investigate he feels his seat move and looks to find she's reclined his seat for him, the pull was on the other side. She's got a playful smirk, looks like she found this amusing, he makes a mental note to be cautious she might be a prankster.

He feels like it's a good time to ask a question now, she is fed, amused, relaxed and enjoying star wars.

G- “ what details didn't Price give me, what's he ashamed of?”

Y/N-“ you don't think it goes against some order to learn what he didn't want you to know?”

G- “ he picked me for this job knowing I can't leave a puzzle unsolved, so no”

Y/N-“ fine, i probably can't lie well enough to get something past you anyways… I was in rehab, got out almost a month ago and Price won't leave me alone for more than a few hours”

G- “ should i be watching, stopping you from doing something?”

Y/N-“ no the house is clean”

He doesn't ask more, he has a feeling that just because she's being open doesn't mean she likes revealing all this to him. Like she said she can't get a lie past him, he's too well trained for that to work. Learning this about her doesn't change the view of the endearing little bird, he knows what it's like to want to turn to something to take away the pain but she's still here, means she's strong.

When the movie finished she gets up and hands him the remote.

Y/N-“ im heading up, night”

G- “ Night”

He noticed the slight change in her demeanor after he had questioned her, after she had come out with the truth. Admitting to rehab isn't something one can do lightly, it probably weighs heavy on her. Maybe Price didn't tell him the details for her sake and not because of his own ashamed feelings.

Ghost heads to the bathroom before going to bed, but while passing by her room he sees the light sweeping out from under her door. He steps closer and hears faint crying, dealing with a crying child was something he had prepared for but he doubts giving her a lollypop will solve anything, but he knows he shouldn't leave her like this, not without at least checking in, so he knocks.

G- “ y/n can I come in”

Y/N-“ yes”

He steps into her room with unsure footing, not sure how to help or soothe her, and it's a hit to his heart as she tries to give me a smile, trying to cover up her sadness. He goes over and sits on the edge of the bed, making the corner dip beneath him.

G- “ did my question upset you?”

Y/N-“ No, no it's not that”

G- “ did someone else bother you?”

Y/N-“ well i guess thats kinda the root of the crying but it happened a while ago, it's fine”

Okay he's checked in, there is no current problem for him to beat up, he's officially checked in and done his due diligence. As he gets up the bed lets out an awkward creak that he tries to ignore as he heads to the door.

Y/N-“ Wait, i… i don't want to be alone, please”

The way she's looking up at him with glassy, pleading eyes, the desperation in her voice, the way it cracked as she called out to him, he can't say no to her.

G- “ okay”

She moves over making space for him in bed, pulls the blanket aside, and pats the open space.

He knows getting into bed with Price's niece isn't something his Captain would approve of but he really can't say no to this little bird's pleas. So he gets in bed, leaving as big a gap between them as the small bed would allow, but the bed dips beneath him causing her to tip and lean towards him. She steady and repositions herself still leaving a gap.

She puts on the empire strikes back, continuing their star wars marathon. Her crying has slowed to slow silent tears that she wipes away on her hoodie sleeve.

He looks at her, the small bird next to him, so close yet also forbidden, not to mention far too young. He wants to know more about her, rehab is just one piece of her story he wants to know the rest, wants to see more of her playful side. Then he notices something alarming,a jagged scar bordering her clavicle and neck.

G- “ that scar, how did you get it?”

Y/N-“ which one?”

He angles his body to face her, reaches out and so lightly, he's barely touching her, he traces the scar, trying to ignore how smooth and soft her skin is against his calloused fingers.

Y/N-“ oh that one… broken bottle”

He knew by the scars jagged shape it was made by something unorthodox but to have it confirmed brings on a rush of protective possessiveness unfitting of how short he's known her.

G- “ caused by the same person you're crying over?”

Y/N-“ yes”

Her voice was so meek and hushed as if she was ashamed of the answer. He really doesn't want to push her and cause more crying but these questions must have answers, he's now concerned for her safety. But he'll try his best not to come off too abrasive.

G- “ what's your story, rehab is only a piece what's the rest?”

Y/N-“ oh your don't wanna hear all that shit”

G- “ yes I do”

Y/N-“ okay then… Well dont need to get into the childhood details blah blah blah it was shitty enough to leave me with a few diagnoses. The main one fucking up my life is bpd”

She gives him the rundown explaining how bpd effects her, makes every aspect of life harder, emotions are a roller-coaster from euphoric to suicidal sometimes all in a few hours,splits, how she connects to people differently and forms bonds that a bit obsessive. How her favorite person's emotions and actions dictate her feelings and how even if they hurt her as long as she gets some tiny bit of affection she'll stay.

Y/N-“ so I ended up in an abusive release, he was good at first, good just long enough to get me attached, as it went downhill and violent i stayed grasping and cherishing every scrap of kindness tossed my way. Even when I finally wanted to leave I was too scared to, but eventually he left me, but even though he hurt me so much, losing the person I was attached to led me to a downward spiral that resulted in a reckless use of drugs and psychotic break landing me in rehab for a few months and now I'm here.”

He's not eloquent enough to have the proper words to say in these moments so he puts an arm around her and pulls her into him giving her a hug. She's rigid at first then welcomes his embrace, and turns to hug him fully trying to wrap her arms around him but their size difference makes that a challenge. He finds that rather cute the way she can only reach so far, he knows he shouldn't be thinking of her as cute, or as a little bird, he's crossing lines but he doubts she's gonna tell Price about this.

He just holds her, rubs her back and lets her cry into his chest. He's content to let her cry into him, he can't offer words but he can do this.

She leans back, finally getting her face out of his chest and looks up to him. She tilts her head as she tries to study him, looking for any expression or discernable reaction to what he's learned about her, learning that she's broken.

G- “ just ask”

Y/N-“ im broken, mind fucked but your being kind, I can't read you, why aren't you repulsed by me”

G- “ your story tells me your strong y/n, why would I be repulsed? I've had my share of mindfuck too.”

Y/N-“ my mind is so warped, the mean things he said and did I can't tell what's the truth or if I'm really at fault”

G- “ then tell me, I'll tell you what's true, like your neck tell me about that one ill clear it up”

She goes rigid and pulls away from him slightly. Having her uncle's lieutenant in her bed holding her has probably already crossed an unspoken line but talking about sex with him is probably jumping over that line.

G- “ you're scared to share?, don't worry, my training makes me really good at keeping secrets.”

Y/N-“ it's not that, well kinda but, just not sure I should be talking to my uncle's subordinate about sex”

G- “ ill take your secrets to the grave he'll never know, and It's only awkward if you make it”

Y/N-“ okay, well my neck. He came home drunk, shoved me to the bed and stripped me, and he was too drunk, couldn't get very hard and that upset him but he blamed it on me, that I wasn't wet enough, and said a bunch of things dissing my pussy. Then when I tried to get up he got the bottle broke it on the bed post and and pressed it to my neck”

She can't make eye contact with him, just tucks her face against his side and picks at the skin around her fingers. Admitting her past story was one thing but going into detail like this was a whole new level of openness that scares her. And feeling him go rigid sends ice through her veins, she's frozen with dread.

G- “ where's he live?”

Y/N-“ a few states away, why you gonna beat someone up for me?”

G- “ you say the word”

Y/N-“ he's not worth it, even if that'd be satisfying”

His body relaxes again and hers responds to him and she relaxes back into his hold, pressed against his side, large muscular arm wrapped around her, holding her close.

G- “ None of that was your fault little bird, I'm not unfamiliar with having too much drink and not being able to get it up but a real man takes responsibility for that and a real man knows warm up and foreplay is important, gotta warm your women up first makes everything go smoother.”

Y/N-“ and umm are you a real man?”

She is a bit embarrassed that his words are affecting her, making her blush slightly but this is too unique and tempting of a situation to pass up.

G- “ yes I am”

Oh crap she shouldn't have asked, she didn't need that confirmation, confirmation that's making her feel something she really shouldn't feel for her uncle's lieutenant, not to mention their age gap. But she can't deny the way her body is reacting to him, wanting him.

G- “ remember what I said about embarrassed, no need it's alright”

Y/N-“ it's really okay to talk about sex with you?”

G- “ yes”

Y/N-“ idk if i like sex, I've had partners who did the foreplay and warm up stuff but it just felt like something to endure and act through, makes me wonder if I need to try sex with women instead or maybe it's just not for me”

G- “ Do you enjoy yourself when you masturbate?”

Y/N-“ yes”

G- “ then your not the issue it's your partner, just cause they do warm up doesn't mean they know what their doing, it takes skill and the ability to listen”

Y/N-“ yeah those are hard qualities to find especially together"

He chuckles at her remark, he's glad she's opening up and being playful, he's getting to know, understand, and learn more about her, even if it's in an unorthodox way.

Y/N-“ i have a question now”

G- “ shoot”

Y/N-“ so when you're on deployment, with little privacy how do you do it, In the shower, descreet, or like for alone time?”

G- “ everyone's got their own way, personally I've gotten very good at being discreet, sometimes have to bite on something to stay quiet though”

She's been so open and vulnerable with him it's only fair he does the same, plus this is fun, even if he's getting very personal with a girl he's only met today, a girl he's been charged with caring for. A girl he shouldn't be getting attached to but is.

Y/N-“ so your vocal during..”

G- “ yes, are you?”

Y/N-“ bit on the quiet side but I'm not discreet, which has made it hard when he won't leave me alone for long”

G- “ tomorrow I'll spend some time in the garden give you some alone time”

Y/N-“ Really!?”

G- “ of course”

Her excitement at the proposition of some alone time is cute, and also sends some rather impure thoughts through his mind but he shoos those away. Even though the knowledge that tomorrow he'll be standing outside while she's here, in the very bed he's sitting in pleasuring herself, makes his blood pressure rise.

Y/N-“ I've never talked like this with someone before”

G- “ do you enjoy it”

Y/N-“ yes, it's nice to be open and not afraid”

She scooches down getting into a more reclined position as she snuggles against him and turns to watch the movie. She no longer feels like crying, isn't all conflicted and confused, she feels secure, stable and calm with Ghost.

Y/N-“ am I allowed to know your name or do I just call you Ghost”

G- “ you can call me Simon, but only in private okay Lil Bird”

Y/N-“ okay Simon”

Y/N-“ you like star wars right, I'm not making you sit through something you hate right?”

G- “ I like star wars”

Y/N-“ good”

She knows she shouldn't get more cuddly with him, anything more would be too intimate, but they have already talked about sex so what's more intimate than that. The lines have gotten all crossed and confusing so she ignores them and goes with her impulse. She sits up and tugs on his shirt.

Y/N-“ scooch, lay down, please”

He can't say no to her, and not when she asks nicely. So he lays reclines and lays down in her bed and looks to see what her next move is.

He's dazed and in awe as she now lays on him, her head resting on his abdomen, her left hand grabbing onto his shirt, her left leg pulled up resting on his thighs. He wants to grab her thigh digging his fingers into her thickness and pull her onto him more. For a split second he imagines what she'd look like seated on top of him.

She nuzzles her head against him, enjoying his scent, she's never felt so safe cuddled up to someone before, which is odd cause she knows what kinda work he does, he's killed before yet she feels safe. She whispers into his shirt, ‘ thank you’.

Simon's hearing is very sharp and he hears her whispered words. He doesn't reply, well not verbally, he places a hand on the small of her back and presses lightly holding her to him.

Y/N-“ will you stay?”

G- “ whatever you want”

Y/N-“can you sleep in this position?”

G- “ umm needs a little adjusting”

She lifts her head and is about to get off him to let him move but he stops her.

G- “ stay”

He gives in and takes this opportunity to grab her, feel how plush and soft she is. With one hand wrapped around her back and the other grabs onto her thigh, letting his finger dig in surprised by just how much they sink into her supple thick thighs. Once he's got a secure hold on her he moves down, fully reclining while keeping her on him, he even adjusts her, bringing her to rest more fully on him so their bodies flush together. He feels the heat coming from between her legs pressed flush against his thigh and has to internally chastise himself, he really can't get a boner right now.

Y/N-“ good night Simon”

G- “ good night Lil bird”

[dreamyvill]

Lights off

Lights off synopsis: Maryn Queen, "America's Princess," grapples with the suffocating pressure of her meticulously crafted public image. Aaron Pierre, a rising star in Hollywood, enjoys a more relaxed approach to fame. Their paths cross at a charity gala, and an immediate attraction sparks between them.

Warning this media contains mentions of: abuse of power, emotional manipulation and control, unnecessary mental health medicating, toxic work environment, and insecurity.

This is dark and will go over traumatic themes. each chapter will have their own warning so be sure to read those.

The pictures used were found on Pinterest.

Read time 4/5 minutes (if that)

lights off masterlist

Sitting in the back of the long limousine—a luxury I’d surely hear about later—I adjusted the snug bodice of my gown. The dress was black, its shimmering beads catching the soft light inside the car. They traced delicate patterns down to the floor-length hem, highlighting my curves without stepping over the invisible line Mabel had drawn.

The intricate beading trailed down to accentuate my pear-shaped figure, the floor-length gown paired with black Christian Louboutin So Kate pumps. No one would see the shoes, but Mable insisted they were important. My perfectly manicured French-tipped hands, adorned with immaculate jewelry, glistened under the dim car light—jewelry, I was sure, I’d also hear the cost of later.

I tried to calm my nerves, smoothing the fabric over my lap. This wasn’t my first event. I’d been doing this since I was nineteen. But no matter how many times I walked into the spotlight, I never felt completely at ease.

“Maryn, are you paying attention?” Mabel’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts. Her less-than-pleased face matching her tone, her tablet perched on her lap. “This is important. What are you supposed to do tonight?”

I didn’t look up, keeping my focus on my hands. “Be polite but not ditzy, speak when spoken to, and don’t eat anything ,” I recited quietly. Turning out for the moment imaging myself back at home in my bed. Letting Mabel go over all my expectations for the night.

“Good. Now remember, you need to introduce yourself to Marlon Beck. He’s sponsoring your next pageant, give him a thank you and you must capture his attention he moves in very fast.” She ordered no looking up at me scrolling on the electronic.

I frowned, confused. “Another pageant? I thought I was done with those.”

“That’s the problem—you think,” Mabel said, her tone clipped. “The label says you need to stay visible before your next album. Sales are everything. The Public needs to see their princess. ” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.

“What if we used some of my songs. I feel like two album do the same thing is going to bore then and I have a real audience that wants to hear me sing like my first album.” I rushed my first album was called Waves and it was a mix between pop and r&b and the people loved it went gold within six months.

Her eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Your job is to sing what you’re given. Leave the decisions to us.”

The words stung, but I swallowed my frustration., Wave had been mine—raw and personal. But after signing with Media Records, I’d lost control. Every song, every move, was decided for me. They wanted to open me up to be the “next Taylor swift. And unfortunately for me the ink had already dried and I didn’t read the fine print until it was too late.

“Stop thinking,” Mabel said sharply, snapping me back to the present. “Ricardo, schedule an appointment with Dr. Black. Her medication isn’t working. I thought this dose would suppress your delusions.”

“My medicine is working! It is i promise,” I said quickly, my voice trembling. “Really, I am. I’m sorry.”

The car slowed, the hum of the engine replaced by the muffled chaos of shouting voices and flashing cameras.

“Maryn, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight!”

“Maryn, what about the rumors you’re seeing director Marlon Beck?”

“Maryn, what do you think about Prince Heffien proposing to you?”

“Are you and the prince engaged?” They rattled off.

“Do what you’re supposed to do you have two hours,” Mabel said, her gaze piercing as always. Nodding my head I crouched down ready to step out of the car. Ricardo, my bodyguard, stepped out first. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped into the storm of flashing lights

I smiled and walked the red carpet, ignoring the questions that swirled around me. The NAACP Gala was one of the few events where I could breathe, at least once I got inside. No phones, no gossip, no flashing cameras—just elegance and calm.

But for now, the chaos reminded me how far I was from my own freedom.

Inside, someone was watching. Aaron Pierre’s gaze kept drifting to Maryn, no matter how hard he tried to stay focused on the conversation around him. She moved through the room with practiced grace, her smile polite, her posture poised. But he could tell she was nervous.

Her presence drew his attention again and again, like a spotlight in the crowded room.

Maryn felt it—that sensation of being watched. Her chest tightened as she lifted her head, scanning the room. Her lips curved into a faint smile, From across the room, Aaron could see the weariness hiding behind her polished exterior.

When their eyes finally met, she froze, feeling as though he could see straight through her. His green eyes were steady, curious, and strangely warm. Her gaze flicked away, though, as she spotted Marlon Beck nearby—a man Mabel would expect her to greet immediately.

With measured steps, she crossed the room. Her gown flowed behind her, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air. When she reached Marlon, his overpowering cologne hit her first, making her stomach churn.

“Maryn, lovely to see you,” Marlon said, opening his arms for a hug. She returned it, her smile practiced and polite, though her heart wasn’t in it. Turning to Aaron, she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Maryn. You must be Mr. Aaron Pierre.”

Aaron was momentarily stunned. Her voice was soft but sure, and the faint scent of vanilla wrapped around him like a memory. “That’s me. It’s great to meet you,” he said, offering a warm smile. Her handshake was firm, her touch lingering in his thoughts longer than it should have.

“I hear your pageant is on track to do very well,” Marlon said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His eyes felt slimy on her like she was selling herself.

Maryn nodded, her voice steady. “Yes, thanks to your support.”

“Are you competing this year?” he asked, his tone casual but knowing.

“No,” she replied with a small shake of her head. “I’ll be judging this year.” Marlon raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Mabel gave me the impression you’d be competing.” He glanced away, distracted by someone else in the crowd, and walked off without another word.

Maryn sighed, relief and frustration fighting for space in her chest. She knew Mabel wouldn’t be pleased. She only had to capture his attention and yet her ran off. She felt the weight of disappointment and fear take is normal place in her chest.

“Are you all right?” Aaron’s voice was gentle, drawing her focus back to him.

She blinked, meeting his gaze. His height and presence made the room feel smaller, as though they were the only two people there.

“I’m fine. How are you handling all this attention?” she asked, her voice soft but curious.

Aaron smiled, his green eyes holding hers drinking her figure in like ice cold water on a hot day in Arizona. “I’m doing all right. And you?”

Her cheeks warmed under his steady gaze. She wanted to look away to stop the heat from creeping in her belly but she couldn’t. Taking a breath that didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m getting through it,” she said with a faint smile.

He clarified. “Your album was a huge international success. My sister must’ve played it forty times back home.”

Her lips parted in surprise, a genuine smile breaking through. “Thank you. I loved writing that album. Especially the soulful songs.”

“I especially loved All Night,” Aaron said, watching as her face lit up with delight.

“Really? I was nervous about including songs like that, but I’m glad I did,” she admitted, her voice filled with quiet pride.

They talked easily, the rest of the room fading into the background. But when Maryn checked her watch, reality rushed back. Like in some bad knockoff Disney movie she had only just met this strange handsome man and here she was spilling all of her life to him. Talking way too much, she was completely putting his well kept hands.

“I’m sorry, but my car is coming soon. I didn’t mean to take so much of your time,” she said, stepping away before he could respond.

Aaron stood there, watching as she disappeared into the crowd. Moments ago, she’d been radiant, her smile full of light. Now, she seemed to retreat, her joy replaced by something he couldn’t quite name.

𖦹

Poor Maryn… I hope you guys like it and let me know if you want to be tagged. In the updates of this story.

I don’t have set up update days yet, I don’t want to out to much pressure on myself and quit so yeah we’re just going with the flow.

Liking, commenting and reblogs are all welcomed here and please let me know what you think. Critiques to just don’t be rude.

[dark-and-kawaii]

─── Depravity

cw: Mind Break | DubCon | Characters Are Rated M For Mature

“Look at that,” Toji teased, watching your belly bulge slightly with each thrust, “taking my cock so deep it's reshaping your womb.” 

The low hum of the afternoon conversation filled the dining room as you sat there, every nerve ending on fire. You were doing your absolute best to listen to your best friend Megumi as he chatted about his training, while his father Toji’s rough fingers traced dangerous patterns under the table. His calloused hand sliding higher and higher up your thigh, making you bite back a whimper. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Megumi, always so worried about you, noticed how your face started to flush, “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“I- I’m fi-fine,” you somehow managed to answer him, but not without your voice catching as Toji’s fingers brushed against your clothed pussy, teasing circles around your clit through the thin fabric. The bastard didn’t even pause while taking a bite of his food before answering for you.

“I think she’s just tired,” his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as his middle finger pressed harder into you, “Long day.”

You nodded weakly, thighs trembling. Your panties were getting embarrassingly wet… And no matter how hard you tried to shift away, he’d grip your thigh warning you to stay still. 

Later in the evening, as you all sat in the living room, Megumi sprawled across the armchair while you sat nervously on the couch. You thought- had hoped that earlier during dinner was a one time thing and that things could go back to normal... And when Toji walks in with a bowl of popcorn your heart settles the moment he offers you some- his eyes not looking into yours, “Take some.” 

“Th-thank you, Mr. Fushi-”

“Don’t mention it.”

The movie’s blue light flickered across the walls as your friend’s breathing grew deeper, eventually settling into soft snores… That’s when you felt Toji’s muscular arm draping across your shoulders, hand sliding down to cup your breast causing a gasp to escape those pretty lips of yours. 

“M-Mr. Fushiguro! What’re y-you-” Your protest cut off into a strangled involuntary moan as he rolled your hardened nipple between his fingers through your shirt.

“Such a naughty girl,” with one hand he swiftly pinned you down against the cushions, “Prancing around my house with no bra, teasing me with these perfect tits.” his other hand roughly groped your chest, making you arch into his touch despite yourself. 

“Please, i-” you whimpered, unsure if you were begging him to stop or continue as he yanked your shirt up, “Meg-Megumi is right there…” 

“Then you better stay quiet,” his low chuckle was dark as he lowered his head to capture a perky nipple between his teeth. Your hands wriggled in his grasp, desperately trying to fly to cover your mouth- to stifle a cry of pleasure that forced its way out.

He worked each breast until you were a flushed, writhing, panting mess beneath him. When his hand slipped under your skirt to find your soaked panties, he couldn’t help but groan appreciatively, “Such a dirty slut, getting off in front of your best friend like this… Look at him. He has no idea what a depraved little whore you are, does he? He has no clue that you want his father to fuck you so bad that you don't care where or when. How pathetic... But I'll indulge you.”

Your weak protests died as he pushed your panties aside, "N-no- n-not here! Not w-with-" You looked towards Megumi, eyes rolling back in pleasure as two of his thick fingers slid inside your tight pussy. The stretch of just two digits had you seeing stars, walls clenching greedily around the invasion. And the squelching sounds echoing through the living room, god how it all made your cheeks burn... Shameful tears welling up in your eyes as you fought not to wake your sleeping friend. 

“Please…”

Toji only laughed, curling his fingers upwards to press against the spongy bundle of nerves, “He's sleeping, baby girl, ya ain’t got anything to worry about, but if you want me to stop, just say so.” His fingers picked up the pace, “Or would you rather I fuck you right here in front of him?” 

You moaned softly, biting your lip as he leaned in close, his lips ghosting across the shell of your ear, “That's what I thought,” the pleasure building quickly, “Fuck, you're tight,” pumping them inside you, “Can't wait to feel this sweet pussy stretched around my cock.”

Your back arched off the couch, the hand holding your wrists finally letting go as your body started to shudder. Toji's mouth crashed against yours, swallowing your scream while you bucked your hips, fucking yourself against his hand as you came, soaking his hand and the cushions beneath you.

His tongue swept against yours, a kiss so dominating that you could barely breathe, let alone think. By the time he released your mouth- a wet trail of spit connecting the two of you- you were already panting, trying to catch your breath as you looked up at him with that cute dazed expression, his hand still working in and out of you. 

“look how wet you are for my cock,” he groaned, curling his fingers before pulling them out to show you, a string of slick hanging between your folds and his long fingers and knuckles.

Toji smirked, leaning down to lick the mess off his hand, “Didn’t know my son liked hanging around such a depraved whore."

When he finally freed his throbbing cock, your eyes widened at the size…His length glistened with precum, his large hand lazily stroking up and down his shaft, thumb smearing the sticky fluid over his swollen tip. 

Fuck. 

He was so much bigger than anyone you'd been with before- bigger than… Your thoughts were interrupted as he rubbed the swollen head between your folds, coating himself in your wetness, “N-No! I-I- I don't- please-! It- it won’t fit,” you whined and shook your head as he lined himself up with your entrance, “You're too big!”

Toji could only chuckle at your distress, his cock sinking slowly into your tight pussy, “funny how you keep telling me no, but yet here you are, spreading those pretty thighs for me…” his eyes darkened, “Not once telling me to actually stop…” 

Everything seemed to stop, time standing still... He was right…

You hadn’t told him to stop, not once.

Not even now.

Instead you were eagerly meeting him halfway, thighs spread wide and shaking from the initial breach... walls stretching obscenely around his girth... And then a strangled moan- the sound of you losing a game of chicken. You'd lost the battle, but it was worth it. So worth it.

It hurt- the delicious sting of being stretched, the feeling of his cock sliding into you inch by agonizing inch, splitting you open. 

“Mn'More~ Wanna be so full of you~” You cried out as soft as you could, “W-wan you to fuck me.”

And it was almost enough to make him lose control. Almost. 

“Shit. That's right. Tell me how badly you need me,” He didn't give you time to adjust, starting a brutal pace that had the couch creaking beneath you. His hands grabbing at your waist, pinning you down till your body was imprinted into the seats as his hips snapped forward, filling you completely, his cock dragging against the sensitive spot inside of you, “Tell me how good it feels,” His balls slapping wetly against you, “How good it feels to have my cock buried in that pretty little cunt.”

“Oh- oh god~ mmmn, fuck” you babbled deliriously as he pounded into your cervix, “Y-you’re stirring up m-my insides!!!” 

You couldn’t tell him how good he felt, words barely something you could focus on, but the bastard knew… He could feel the way your walls fluttered and squeezed his length, feel the way your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you,

“Look at that,” he teased, watching your belly bulge slightly with each thrust, “taking my cock so deep it's reshaping your womb.” 

Your eyes rolled back as he hit spots you didn’t know existed, pleasure building to unbearable heights. The wet sounds of his cock destroying your pussy filling your ears… And for a moment, a brief, fleeting, terrifying moment, you worried Megumi might wake up, might catch you getting fucked by his dad like a bitch in heat... Might see the way you're cumming- gushing all over the man's cock. 

As if sensing your fear, Toji's thrusts slowed- his movements growing more languid... then you heard it.

The telltale sign that someone was stirring.

Megumi groaned softly as he stretched and yawned…

Toji clamped his hand over your mouth- his body covering yours, the movement of his hips coming to a stop, leaving his cock buried deep within your velvety walls... Your hearts hammering against each other, your own pulse beating so loud it was the only thing you could hear, even over the blood rushing in your ears. You watched Megumi sleepily roll his head from side to side, eyes still closed, brows knitting together as he adjusted his position.

He was still asleep... Thank god.

The relief was short lived though. Toji didn't wait long before his hips started moving again- the pace even slower than before. He was drawing it out, relishing every thrust, savoring the way your pussy clung to his cock. 

That forbidden thrill pushed you over the edge… Your whole body trembling, eyes screwed shut and mouth agape against his hand, your thighs squeezing his hips as you came hard, squirting all over his cock and straining his couch cushions. 

“Fuck yes, milk my cock,” pace growing erratic, “suck a perfect sleeve for me to fuck.”

Terror cut through your orgasmic haze as you felt him start to swell inside you, “W-wait you can- cant! D- don’t cum in meee i’ll get pregnant!” 

“Maybe that’s what you need,” he gripped your hips bruisingly tight, “a man to fill this cunt up with cum- get knocked up with a brat of your own, huh?”

Just when you thought he was about to flood your womb, he pulled out. Thick ropes of cum painting your stomach, chest, and face. Toji pumped his length a few more times, making sure he was completely spent.

By the time he finished, you were covered in cum. Your hair sticking to your forehead, skin shiny, and glistening. You looked like a hot, dirty, wreck- the picture of sin.

He pulled out and tucked his semi hard cock back into his pants with a satisfied smirk, “I’d clean yourself up before he wakes,” leaving you laying there, legs spread, cunt still gaped and throbbing from his girth.

You just laid there, unable to move as his cum started to dry, your mind reeling. What were you supposed to do now? What would happen tomorrow? How were you supposed to face him after all this? What about Megumi? 

...The thought of Megumi had your abused cunt clenching around nothing, already aching to be filled again.

This was so wrong... but you knew you'd be back for more... 

A week later, you found yourself back at your best friend’s house... 

“Been thinking about this tight cunt all week,” Toji shoved you against the marble counter in the bathroom, his massive hands slipping under your thighs, hoisting you effortlessly into the air, pressing your back against his muscled chest, “Show me how much you’ve missed this cock.”

You bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood as he impaled you with one brutal thrust, your walls still slick from fingering yourself earlier, thinking of him, wishing he was there-

“Such a sloppy pussy.”

He was rough, but his strong hands gripped your thighs, supporting you easily, letting his cock do all the work- hitting your g-spot perfectly. It was so cute how your legs dangled helplessly in the air~. 

“Look at you, taking it so deep,” He grunted, his pace growing rougher, harder, “My boy could never make you feel this good, could he? Too busy playing around with his shadow technique to notice how bad his little crush wants her pussy split in half like this…”

“N-No, th-that’s not- true~” you moaned, head falling back against his shoulder, his breath hot against your cheek, a low, guttural laugh sending shivers down your spine, a familiar warmth coiling in your belly.

“C’mon, don’t be shy, your body is being honest. Why don’t you give it a try?”

You furrowed your brows, you hated him. hated that he knew what you desperately wanted to keep secret, what you tried so hard to deny… But it was no use, “O-Only you can- …” you nibbled your lip, “Only you can fill me up like this~”

“That’s right,” he purred ever so darkly, “lucky daddy’s here to take care of this needy pussy properly.”

Your eyes rolled back as he increased his pace, cock churning up your insides. Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, tongue lolling out as your walls clamped down around him.

“Fuck yeah, strangle my cock with that tight cunt.”

A loud thumb echoed as he slammed you against the bathroom wall… The sound of footsteps approaching made your blood run cold.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright? I heard a bang,” Megumi’s voice could be heard through the door, his hand rattling the handle.

You opened your mouth but no words came out, just quiet whines as his father continued to fuck you sensless. 

“Tell him you knocked over a bottle,” Toji whispered in your ear, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust, “that you’re just freshening up.”

“I-I’m fine!” you managed between short gasps, “Just- k-nocked over some.. Ah!... Stuff! Freshening up!” 

“Oh, okay.” Megumi said it with uncertainty, you could hear it in his voice… “Let me know if you need anything.”

You held your breath until his footsteps faded, then moaned loudly as Toji resumed his merciless pace, fingers digging into your thighs, cock pistoning in and out of you, hitting deep- hitting the spot that makes hearts burst across your vision.

“Such a good girl, lying to him while taking my cock.” he chuckled darkly, “That was close though… He almost saw what a whore his crush really is.” 

You came at his cruel words, squirting all over his thick shaft, walls spasming wildly, your liquid spraying the floor. 

His pace faltered for a second, and you could hear him mutter a quiet, almost awestruck, “fuck.” before fucking you through mulitiple orgasms, wanting to watch you drench his flooring even more… until your mind was completely blank.

“Fw’lease… Toji… C-can’t ta-ke any-sh’m-m-more…~” you were babbling, slurring… 

He loved how wrecked you sounded, at the way you kept milking his length, as if it were trying to suck him deeper inside, like you couldn't live without his cock. 

“You’ll take whatever I give you. You're a good girl, aren't you? Be a good girl and come on my cock one last time before I fill your hungry womb.”

Within a month you were completely broken- addicted to his cock and that large muscular body that covered yours. It didn’t matter where you were or who was around, all you cared about was the way he felt inside of you- how his cock split your insides and his hands left marks on your skin. You just wanted to please him, to show him how much you loved him.

Every day you‘d find yourself on your knees, throat bulging as he skull fucked you into mindless oblivion. Your pussy would drip constantly, aching to be filled and abused by him. 

“Please Toji~” or “Please daddy~” became your constant refrain, spreading yourself open shamelessly, “Need you to wreck my tight little cunt…” your lashes batting at him so innocently. 

The ultimate betrayal came when Megumi finally discovered your twisted relationship with his father. The look of shock and hurt on his face as he watched you finger yourself, your voice calling out his fathers name… cum leaking from your well used hole…  But you were too far gone to even notice him, too lost in the pleasure of knowing Toji would be back any minute to take care of you~ ♡

[uncleasriel]

Oh my God, that makes so much sense!

The "fairy-tale-ness" is the exact mot juste that I was looking for! The way magic isn't especially world-built, or justified...that it's just a matter-of-fact property about the setting and its people. There's no mechanics, no magic system, no deep and layered worldbuilding, and that's fine.

The pleasure of those early books is watching the characters we've come to know be clever and courageous and leverage their virtues towards Stopping The Wicked Voldemort. It came together well,with just enough foreshadowing (like how it's a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets is hinted at by folks getting paralyzed, and the smashed greenhouse) to make you feel like "I could have pieced it together if I had read it closer!"

It's satisfying in that way, even if (as some critics have pointed out) there is a sense of mean caricature in the characters that Rowling intends us not to like.

I'm glad you liked the Dahl comparison! Revisiting Charlie and the Chocolate Factory put me in mind about how Rowling & Roald Dahl both portray the sorts of people the author didn't like as cartoonish buffoons who get what's coming to them. I get that it is a little "ethically meanspirited", as LeGuin describes it, but I can't deny that sometimes a little meanspirited comedy can land - especially if you're a slightly messed-up kid wanting to vent at all the bullies and authoritarians of the adult world who are sometimes Like That.

I think that's why I bounced off the fourth book after Rowling divorced her editor made it big. The tone was distinctly not fairy tale anymore, and the push to make real-world politics meld with Wizard World politics felt tonally disconnected with what came before.

Before Rowling showed her ass as a bigot, I was content with the first three books. They were perfectly cromulent children's fiction, far from unreadable and enjoyable enough for a young reader. But if you were to drop a copy of them into a parallel world where Harry Potter Mania never existed, if you didn't have the bizarre conflux of publishing firms and advertising overreach and film rights all combine into that exact perfect storm in the mid-to-late 90s... I highly doubt they'd make the same kind of splash.

After Rowling went full Mask Off... I really don't think I should be defending this series. There's nothing so special about them that warrants enriching a bigot, and I think it would be best if the series was laid to rest. One day, when the death of the author becomes a literal death (and not a rationale to excuse supporting a vocal transphobe shit-heel "cuz 8th birfday was Pottah themed!"), then maybe someone could do something with the IP that's halfwauy decent. But them I'm left asking....

...why bother? There are so many more compelling stories waiting to be told than just recapitulating to a long-gone childhood nostalgia.

Basically:

for the record even if we lived in a universe where jk rowling wasn't a fundamentally evil person, and every dollar spent on harry potter merchandise wasn't being funneled directly into anti-trans causes, I would still think grown ass adults who are unable to help themselves from purchasing every possible thing from a mediocre childrens book franchise are extremely pathetic people

[destielaureversebb]

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “Decoherence” 

Author: faren @farenmaddox Artist: @envydean

Rating: Explicit Archive warnings: None Length: 45,000 words Tags:  Rancher Dean, Angels as a Species, Political Corruption, Fantasy Racism Relationships: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Eileen, Benny/Mary

Summary:  

Dean got lost in the woods as a boy and swears an angel helped him get home, even though getting that close to one should have killed him. No one believes him and it nearly tears his family apart. Years later, the same angel crash-lands in his fishing pond, wounded and on the run.

Castiel has dangerous information about a political plot to ruin angel-human relations, and he needs help if he’s going to live long enough to expose the truth. Dean is the only person he knows who won’t die helping him, and the only person Castiel might be willing to die to protect.

Excerpt: 

There was thrashing in the water, and Dean didn’t stop to think about it before he ran at the edge of the dock and dove into the lake. He was a strong swimmer after all the time he’d spent out here, and he reached the fallen figure before more than a few seconds had passed. He reached out and tried to grab hold, then froze up as he tried to figure out what he’d grabbed hold of.

The entirety of the dark mass in the water rapidly started blinking in and out, going from right in front of him and held in his hand, to ten seconds ago when it was still falling right over his head, and also ten seconds ahead already coughing and dripping water on hands and knees over on the dock. Dean’s hand went numb and his eyes spotted with colors he had no idea how to parse. Perversely, it made him grip at whatever was in his hands even harder.

A panicked voice rang out shockingly against the still night, and it boomed with a pressure against Dean’s ears. “Let go!” The glitch of seeing the man in three places at once briefly stopped, and for a moment there was just wide, frightened blue eyes staring at him from inches away.

Dean let go, and the glitch resolved itself into the figure crouched on the dock, coughing terribly. He stared at the angel hacking up lake water to mix with his overturned and spilled beer on the weather-stained wooden boards. Because he had to be an angel.

Dean, struck dumb and still floating in the lake, felt the realization of it set in. Again. It was happening again. He’d seen an angel in superposition, heard its voice outside of human hearing range, and he was fine.

Posting date:  February 25, 2025