#(I love apologizing. Love to put it into words and I have an intense need to do it immediately and thoroughly)

[kittytheartist]

Hello! Hm, I very much disagree and would like to give my input.

Let's start from the top, you seem to think Akane is a very possessive guy, like he needs Aoi in his "possession" which is..a far cry from the way he shows his love

But you said that he stopped listening and started acting similarly to what he said he hated about Aoi, but he was listening and asking questions, he was worried about her and trying to understand her, he hates Aoi for pitying herself, running from her problems, outcasting herself and never trying to understand people because she shuts them out

It took a turn towards making actions instead of talking because Aoi literally attacked him, although she definitely wouldn't have under normal circumstances (such as NOT BEING DRUGGED OFC) But nonetheless he does not pin her down in a way of claiming her, instead he puts himself in front of her and claims his love once more

Aoi is doubting him and he doesn't understand so he tries to reaffirm his love, which is what he knows best, it may not be the most healthy but Akane has always used his love as his motive, drive and reason

He's protective because he has seen her get bullied and pushed around just because she is pretty and nice and Akane can't stand when someone doesn't stick up for the themselves so he chose to protect Aoi no matter what, purely because he loves her and wants her to be safe

This is why it was so hard on him when he lost Aoi, not because he has an intense need to possess, keep, or seek out some sort of relationship with her but because he has always been there to protect her, he has always comforted Aoi in the fact he would be there and love her...what happens when he can't keep his word? Aoi is his world and even after the severance he had no cool down on trying to figure out how to get Aoi back

Akane constantly tells Aoi he loves her not because he needs to convince himself no, but because he genuinely wishes to express his affection regardless, he doesn't need Aoi to say she loves him aloud he just wishes for her to know he loves her and always will be there. No he does not need to fulfill some need for a fantasy Aoi or even just a person to love him he's just content with however Aoi likes their relationship. That is verryyy different from staying in some wonderland dreaming of some Aoi he needs to possess.

Akane grew a strong attachment to Aoi during childhood and that has definitely fucked him over to a degree but not in a way where he just needs "Aoi" or however he invisions her but in a sense that he values Aoi's preferences than his own

Namely when Aoi and him were walking through the tunnel to get out of the far shore and she couldn't see the light so she was sharing her own interests and apologizing once she asked for his own interests he said he just likes her, that's not exactly what she wanted but it truly hurt her because she'll never be able to say it back (that is, until they reunite which she was not expecting) but this is what their relationship lacks

It lacks Akane, it may be a humorous side piece but the reality is he really does change what he does and how he presents himself because Aoi mentions it, it's less of a need for validation and more of taking your love and appreciation for someone too far, obsessive is definitely a word that could fit

When you love someone you love their interests, but Akane seems to take it farther into wanting to become those interests. It's not like he has no opinion for himself, quite the opposite but even when he hates the supernatural in after school once Aoi was interested in some occult type games he started preparing immediately

Now... there was no gaslighting in chapter 69

Aoi was trying to run away and kill herself, Akane got stabbed which of course would make you tense and idk about you but if I felt like I'd die if that wound's messed with I wouldn't be super patient also Aoi will not listen to him, she's too caught up in this idea she has of herself and other people

Let's start.... Akane wakes up and Aoi patched him up, he proposes like usual but Aoi says yes.

Aoi continues to explain that she's nothing like how he views her but that's not true..she's just been too focused on isolating herself to notice, that's also why their relationship remained stagnant and superficial. They both had the idea that they know the other better than they think but rather because they never communicated they're both still unaware of some particular feelings

But she won't let him speak. She places herself in this glass box that no one else can reach

He needs to get her attention and this seemed to be the only way he could pull her out of this mindset right away (here he also admits that he had no clue she felt that way)

So he says what would truly get her. "I hate you" ...He says this because he knows this makes Aoi sad, it shows she cares because of the memory he recalls during their childhood where he said he hated her during an argument and started crying, for the first time during their friendship

He knows how that saddens her and sure, it's not the best way to go about it and he says he lied but it's completely reasonable to hate a part of the person you love, especially if it's self destructive.

Akane never said any of that out of anger, nor because he was growing tired of some sort of need for Aoi. He said all of that because Aoi was trying to leave and she wouldn't listen. It wasn't because he was angry at her or himself but trying to get through to her was not working with the soft talk and they couldn't stay here forever, Akane's injury would only get worse and if she continued to try and leave it'd only be a back and forth, Aoi needed that reality check

Truthfully Akane has never been good at words or comforting, nor has he and Aoi had a straightforward way of communication but they understand each other so well that the odd way they go about it is not lacking in words

When he asks if she really does hate him or like him even just a little bit and instead of a response Aoi rests in Akane's hand, that was enough

Akane ends it by saying there's no need for words as he's known her since childhood.

The reality is Aoi does love him and they both understand that, that is also why he continued to confess no matter how much she hides or runs from the fact. He accepts that she is overall cowardly and doesn't want to face her feelings but would rather spend every day telling her he loves her.

Even after they're close to official (still complicated) Akane waits, he will always wait for Aoi even if she never verbalizes it she will also always love him and always has

In the new timeline she even loves Akane and wishes to be with him instead of her engagement with Teru.

You talk of Akane like Aoi's speech is spot on when they both got each other wrong, no matter how right they thought they were

Aoi wrongly believed Akane to be a liar and just like everyone else, she thought Akane only saw her for what she showed him but Akane knew her far more than she ever knew, her own problems and ego in the way of her judgement

Akane chose to say some harsh words whether they were true or not he still got it wrong. The way he handled things was a temporary salutation he thought would last when it only made Aoi lose faith in him more, although he did not know she wished to leave it all behind or that she wants nothing to do with relationships (because she is too scared to face it, she'd rather run and never return) he still made it worse

They both lied and hid secrets thinking the other never knew when they did, it may be their curse to know each other so well.

After their fight, their reunion, Akane changes his behavior after they have cleared up their misunderstanding, it doesn't have to be superficial anymore and he knows Aoi does not fancy the cheery proposals, their relationship has deepened and it all feels more intimate and caring

Although Akane was never aversive to being real with Aoi she always had her walls up and nothing was talked about so of course it was more surface level...now the gentle care and communication brings a new warmth to their relationship (might I point out if he really did feel a need to control her well being why does he let jer express and feel her feelings?? He comforts and trusts her and what she thinks is better such as keeping her hand a secret. He let's Aoi work it out with Nene...never forcing her, he does nothing to force and/or control her way of behaving and decisions)

If he really did just want some sort of "doll" or Aoi for looks he wouldn't feel the need to understand, love and protect her instead he wishes to work it out and change whatever needs changing

He truly does love and want the real Aoi

Loving the Aoi of this timeline does not mean he will accept and want any idea he gets of "Aoi"

He still sees the Aoi he's always loved in her, you think it would be an immediate differentiation on how he treats Aoi? In his mind not much of their lives would have been changed because you'd think they didn't have much to do with the timeline becoming a mess, that is not the reality and it pains him to be apart from Aoi and even wonder if this timeline is better for her

After all their communication they finally made it to a point where they were happy but then this happens..the pain of wondering whether the timeline where you're pining for your love is better for everyone else.

This arc we have gotten an IMMENSE amount of sad Akane panels, because his love is engaged to Teru of all people who seems to be the only person he genuinely thinks could win over Aoi (even though Aoi does not like him Akane sees Teru as the only threat when it comes to liking Aoi) he's not acting possessive in any way, not even close to toxic.

Akane's confession here is wildly different from his previous confessions

We can see how sincere he feels here, what in this reads possessive😭

I'll stop here if anyone has any questions I'm open and ready to make a part 2

The way Akane stopped questioning Aoi's behavior in the shinigami arc and just started acting.

For Akane to discuss the problem with words through his mouth? Yeah, lol, not far removed from the Aoi he condemns, he's also a big inventor, he's also stuck in his own theory and sees confirmation of it in everything. He doesn't need to find out Aoi's reasons and get to know her better, he consoles himself with the fact that he knows her better than others, he quickly drained the conversation about "what the hell is going on, Aoi, why are you doing this, I'm worried about you" to stupidly keep Aoi to himself. And what's wrong with that, it would seem that not wanting to let Aoi die is normal, but it's just _how_ he did it.

I believe in Akane's trauma now more than in anything else. He needs Aoi to support the trauma, so why talk to her normally? He needs to stupidly get her, so that she would be in his field of vision, in his complete control, that's why he was trying to get her every day. That's why he thinks that they simply need to become a romantic couple, and not just be together as friends, Akane needs to get whole Aoi completely.

But as soon as she suddenly moved away from him more than a hundred meters - he got stuck, he didn't even want to figure it out, Aoi shouldn't leave him. So he grabbed her, said all sorts of things out of anger, because he was tired of himself, tired of watching her, pretending that everything was fine, all his emotions were directed at her, she could really start to irritate him. And he finally pushed her to be his.

Aoi doesn't need to answer Akane that she likes him, he will convince himself of this, the danger has passed, Aoi will not leave him anywhere, and the rest is unimportant. "The Aoi in your head", Teru is right here lol, Akane is the only one playing this game, he literally doesn't need the real Aoi for this, he doesn't need to ask her opinion, he will make it up himself, Aoi is enough to just lie like a doll in his arms. Aoi wanted to leave and so he snapped, didn't let her, but what happened between them won't help them at all, Akane is still feeding this unhealthy need to control Aoi's well-being, Aoi doesn't understand what's going on. I feel sorry for Aoi the most here. As if she is some kind of evil temptress, or a masochist with a crush on her yandere friend, she is maximally intimidated by other people's behavior and confused.

Just as Kou must learn to live and let go of the dead, so Akane must learn to live apart from Aoi. It's a painful topic, he is not ready to let it go, but he should. But instead of moving towards healthy separation, we have 69 with gaslighting (Akane gaslights both Aoi and himself lol). Instead of some therapy, he only feeds his anxiety and the opinion that without it the world will collapse 😭 but wow, it's romantic

[sincerelyneo]

could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐

mad at you | l.mk

“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”

💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we

❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader

❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex

❯ words: 4.3k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.

an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.

The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had. 

But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales. 

You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.

So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. 

He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think. 

He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous. 

The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.

“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”

You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy. 

“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”

You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”

"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."

Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath. 

“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”

“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”

“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”

“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”

You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.

“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug. 

“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”

“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap. 

Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair. 

“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”

You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought. 

“Oh, so you want to break up?”

He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”

The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other. 

Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.

Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.

“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”

“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it. 

Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument. 

He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.

After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys. 

It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy. 

Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.

Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to. 

As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes. 

You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.

The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.

However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.  

You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”

Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.

His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head. 

"I thought you left..."

Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.

“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw. 

You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap. 

He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”

His kindness only amplifies your guilt. 

"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."

Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."

"No—"

He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.

"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."

"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"

Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"

His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.

"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."

You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”

You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.

Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.

His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.

Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.

You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.

He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.

“‘s okay,” you whimper. 

Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.

He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock. 

He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too. 

And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers. 

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”

You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud. 

“Mark…” 

“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.” 

You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.

And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.

As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been. 

You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.” 

He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock. 

Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does. 

The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.

You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick. 

You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment. 

Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.

Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.

And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more. 

You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you. 

So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...

“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”

You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.

“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”

And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax. 

And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back. 

The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do. 

You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed. 

You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.

"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.

"I’m sorry," you say softly.

You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."

[d1stalker]

I Want You [Logan Howlett]

Summary: Logan is jealous of you and Scott's friendship, not knowing your true feelings.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ only please. fem/afab!reader. brief argument, logan being stubborn comme d'hab, making out, oral, riding, you get the idea ;)

WC: 2.9k - MASTERLIST

The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the X-Mansion grounds. You find yourself on the patio, leaning against the railing, watching as the last rays of sunlight dip below the trees. The tranquility of the moment is soothing, a brief escape from the chaos that often fills your days.

Your mind drifts to earlier that day, when you and Scott had been working together in the training room. He's always been a good friend—someone you can rely on when you need advice or a steady hand in a crisis. Scott had patiently helped you fine-tune your abilities, offering encouragement and constructive feedback.

"You're really getting the hang of it," Scott had said with a smile as you both took a break, sitting on the edge of the training mat. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks, Scott," you had replied, grateful for his support. "Couldn't have done it without your help."

He had shrugged, a modest grin on his face. "We make a good team. It's nice to have someone who gets it, you know?"

You had nodded, feeling the warmth of genuine friendship between you. Scott was like the brother you never had, someone who understood the challenges you faced and never judged you for them.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching breaks your reverie. You recognize them immediately—Logan.

"You and Summers seem to be gettin' pretty close."

You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow at his accusatory tone. "Scott? We're just friends, Logan. You know that."

He crosses his arms over his chest, scowl deepening. "Doesn't look like it from where I'm standin'."

Frustration bubbles up inside you, and you can’t help but let it spill over. "And where exactly are you standing? Lurking in the shadows, jumping to conclusions?"

His eyes narrow, jaw clenching. "I'm just callin' it like I see it."

"You don't see anything," you retort, matching his intensity. "You're too busy looking for problems that aren't there."

He steps closer, his presence imposing but familiar. "I see the way he looks at you."

You roll your eyes, exasperated. "And how do I look at him, Logan?"

"Like he hung the damn moon," Logan mutters, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice.

"That's rich coming from the guy who's too stubborn to see what's right in front of him," you snap back, heart pounding.

He pauses, taken aback by your words. "What do you mean by that?"

You take a deep breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings pressing down on you. "I mean, I'm not in love with Scott. I'm in love with you. But you're too busy being jealous and stubborn to notice."

He blinks, surprise flickering across his features. His defenses falter for a moment, and you see the real him beneath the rugged exterior. "Me? Why the hell would you—"

"Because you're you, Logan," you interrupt, voice softer now. "You're gruff and infuriating, but you're also brave and kind. You see through the facade I put up, and you make me want to be better."

He looks at you, his hardened exterior cracking. "I thought I wasn't good enough for you,” he says, quietly. 

You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. The contact is electric, as always, grounding both of you in the moment. "You don't get to decide that for me. I've made my choice."

He stares at you, a mix of disbelief and longing in his eyes. "All this time... and I was just bein' a damn fool."

"Yeah, you were,” you say with a smile, the tension between you dissipating. 

Logan lets out a low chuckle, the sound warm and genuine. "Guess I should apologize for actin' like a jerk, huh?"

You nod, teasingly. "That would be a good start."

He takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that makes your heart race. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I was stupid, and I let my jealousy get the best of me."

You smile, feeling the last remnants of your anger melt away. "Apology accepted, but you're gonna have to make it up to me."

Tthe familiar glint returns to his eyes as he smirks. "Oh, I will. Count on it."

A comfortable silence falls between you. The night air is cool and refreshing, and you can hear the distant sounds of laughter from inside the mansion.

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" Logan asks, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

"I guess I was scared," you admit. "Scared of ruining what we have, of pushing you away. You’re not exactly easy to read."

He chuckles softly. "Yeah, well, you're not the only one who’s scared. I’m not good at this...feelin’ stuff. Always thought it’d get in the way."

"It doesn’t have to," you say, hoping your words convey the sincerity you feel. "You don’t have to do this alone, Logan. We can figure it out together."

He nods, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. You share a moment of quiet understanding. For once, there’s no need for words. You both know what this means.

"Come on," Logan says suddenly, breaking the silence. "Let’s get outta here for a while."

"Where to?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he shrugs. "Anywhere but here. I hear there’s a nice little spot by the lake where the stars look like they’re close enough to touch."

You laugh, "Alright, lead the way.”

---

The walk to the lake is peaceful, the cool night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The sound of your footsteps on the gravel path blends with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. You and Logan walk side by side, your fingers occasionally brushing against each other, only feeding the tension that seems to be growing as each moment passes.

When you reach the lake, the water shimmers under the starlight, a breathtaking view that makes you catch your breath. Logan finds a spot on the grassy bank, and you settle down beside him, lying back to gaze up at the sky.

"It's beautiful here," you whisper, feeling the tranquility of the moment seep into your bones.

Logan nods, his gaze fixed on you instead of the stars. "Yeah, it is."

His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, grounding you in the reality of this moment.

You tilt your head up to look at him, meeting his eyes. There's a softness there that you haven't seen before, a vulnerability that makes your heart swell. "I've wanted this for a long time, Logan."

He smiles, a rare and genuine expression that lights up his features. "Me too. Guess I was too stubborn to admit it."

You chuckle softly, reaching up to trace your fingers along the line of his jaw. "I like this side of you."

He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he's afraid you'll disappear if he's not careful. The world around you fades away as Logan leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It's slow and tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but quickly deepens into something more urgent and heated.

You shift closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly as his hand slides up your back, pulling you even closer. Your fingers weave into his hair, anchoring yourself as the kiss intensifies, leaving you breathless.

Breaking away briefly, his forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath. "You sure about this?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You nod, your own breath coming in short gasps. "Absolutely."

With a growl of approval, Logan captures your lips again, the kiss filled with a hunger that leaves you dizzy. He shifts, pulling you with him as he rolls onto his back, guiding you to straddle his hips. His hand traces down your side, sending shivers of anticipation through you. The world around you feels distant and unimportant, the only thing that matters is the man with you and the way he makes you feel.  

As the kiss deepens, you lose yourself in the moment, the passion and intensity of it all consuming you. Slowly, you rock back and forth, grinding your hot core against his growing bulge. Something akin to a growl releases from his throat, as his hands tighten their grip on you.

Breaking the kiss, Logan trails his lips down your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses along your skin. You tilt your head back, allowing him to continue his journey, savouring the sensation of his mouth against you. He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt, pausing to look up at you. With deliberate slowness, he slides your shirt up and over your head, discarding it with a flick of his wrist. He takes a moment to admire you, his hands tracing the curves of your waist with a gentle reverence.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice rough with emotion. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

His eyes roam over you appreciatively, lingering on your bare skin. His words and gaze make your heart race and heat flood your cheeks.

“Says you,” you murmur, feeling a heady mix of vulnerability and desire under his gaze.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers, flipping you over so you’re now on your back as he hovers above you. “I’ve thought about this moment more times than I can count.”

He begins to kiss the valley between your breasts, hands never ceasing their exploration of your body. Your grasp finds the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest. Your fingers trace over his muscles, delighting in the way they ripple beneath your touch.

Logan grins, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he moves even lower, his kisses trailing down your stomach. Each touch is electric, leaving a path of heat in its wake. His fingers find the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your legs. With your pants discarded, Logan settles himself between your thighs, his hands gently parting them to make room for himself. His touch is firm yet gentle, and you shiver in anticipation as he leans in, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin.

He starts with soft kisses along your inner thighs, teasing you with his lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth. The feeling sends a thrill through you, making your heart race and your body ache for more. Finally, Logan focuses his attention on your centre, his mouth moving with expert precision as he tastes you. The first touch of his tongue is like fire, a sensation so intense that it steals your breath away. You gasp, your hands finding their way to his hair, anchoring yourself to him as the pleasure begins to build.

He works you with a practiced ease, his tongue tracing patterns that have you arching into him, seeking more of the exquisite sensations he’s giving you. He alternates between gentle flicks and firmer strokes, finding a rhythm that leaves you trembling beneath him. Your soft moans and gasps fill the night air, mingling with the sound of the lake and the distant rustle of leaves. Logan responds to your every sound, adjusting his movements, his sole focus on drawing out your pleasure.

As the tension coils within you, winding tighter with each deft movement of his tongue, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release. Logan senses your impending climax, his efforts doubling as he brings you closer and closer to the brink. With a final flick of his tongue at your clit with gentle, firm pressure, he pushes you over the edge, sending you spiraling into ecstasy. The world dissolves around you as the waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

Logan stays with you through it all, his touch gentle and reassuring as you come down from your high. He presses a soft kiss to your thigh before moving back up to lie beside you, gathering you into his arms as you catch your breath. “Logan,” you whisper, feeling a warmth that’s more than just physical spreading through you.

He smiles, a satisfied, tender expression on his face as he brushes a stray hair from your cheek. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs.

You shift slightly, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The sight of him, hair tousled and eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and desire, stirs something within you. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

Responding eagerly to your initiation, the kiss deepens as your hands explore each other with a renewed sense of curiosity and hunger, as if he didn’t just make you finish with his mouth. You push him gently onto his back, straddling his hips as you trade positions once again, trailing kisses down his chest, savoring the way his muscles tense under your touch.

Your hands make quick work of his belt and jeans, tugging them down to reveal the hard length of him. He’s beautiful. Logan’s breath hitches as you take him in your hand, stroking him with a slow, deliberate rhythm that draws a low groan from his lips.

You lower yourself further, your lips and tongue exploring every inch of him, tasting and teasing until his hands are tangled in your hair, guiding you with a mix of urgency and need. The sounds he makes, the way he reacts to your touch, only spurs you on, and you take him deeper, reveling in the way his body responds to yours.

“Darlin’,” Logan rasps, his voice strained with pleasure, “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You smile against him, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, the heat in his eyes matching the fire burning within you. “Well, don’t go dying on me now,” you tease, moving back up to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as you settle over him. You barely break the kiss as you grab his length and slowly sit down on it. The pleasure of being filled by him draws a gasp from your lips, and a hearty groan vibrates underneath you.

You brace yourself against his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your palms, as you begin to move. The rhythm starts slow and steady, each movement deliberate as you rise and fall, taking him deeper with each movement of your hips. Soon enough, you feel him begin to thrust up into you, matching your pace, pounding into you even deeper than before. 

Logan’s grip on your hips tightens, guiding you as you pick up the pace, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The sound of your breathy sighs and his low groans fill the air, mingling with the gentle rustle of the leaves and the lapping of the lake against the shore.

His eyes remain locked on yours, a dark and heated gaze that stokes the fire within you. You feel the tension coiling tight, winding with each movement until it’s all-consuming, a need that demands release.

“I’m close,” you gasp, leaning forward to capture his lips in a heated kiss. 

The tension within you builds to a crescendo, a tidal wave of sensation that sweeps you away. With one final movement, you tumble over the edge, your release crashing over you in a symphony of pleasure that leaves you trembling in his arms.

He follows soon after, a low, guttural moan escaping him as he finds his own release, his hands finding and squeezing your breasts while his body shudders beneath you.

When the waves of pleasure subside, you collapse against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and you smile against his skin, feeling a sense of peace and contentment that only comes from being with him.

The night air cools the heat between you, and you nestle against Logan’s side, feeling safe and cherished in the aftermath of your shared passion. His fingers trace lazy patterns along your back, soothing and grounding you as you bask in the warmth of his embrace.

“Wow,” you whisper, a soft laugh escaping you as you meet his gaze, the stars reflected in his eyes. “That was…”

“Incredible,” he finishes for you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve got me all figured out, darlin’.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your chest. “I think we’ve got eachother figured out.”

“Yeah, we do,” Logan agrees, pulling you closer, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As the night stretches on, you find comfort and peace in Logan’s embrace, knowing that this is just the beginning of something beautiful and real. You’ve found a home in each other’s arms—a place where you truly belong.

---------

A/N: this is my first time ever writing smut yikes lol please leave feedback!

[arachine]

yes, i'm ready (to fall in love)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

── ˚₊✩‧₊ synopsis: after reader is persuaded into putting herself back out there by long time friend, shoko, she successfully ends up scoring a date. unbeknownst to her, though, the gods have different plans—and one of them seems especially interested in her relationship with ex-husband, gojo satoru.

or in other words: a failed date results in a night of passion amongst former lovers.

── ˚₊✩‧₊ contents: 13.5k words, ex-husband!gojo + co-parent!gojo, slight dub-con (alcohol use), dumbification, overstimulation, vaginal penetration, unconventional form of contraception (pull-out method - don’t do this), pussy eating + one oc for the sake of plot

── ˚₊✩‧₊ note: i know this is really long and most people don’t have the attention span for it but PLEASE give it a chance! this is literally the longest piece of fiction i’ve ever written and i’m really proud of it :(

songs to listen to for best reading experience: donny hathaway - i love you more than you’ll ever know barbara mason - i’m ready partynextdoor - showing you bryson tiller - been that way

After you divorced your ex-husband, and decided to devote all of your time to being a mother, you never really considered getting back into the dating world. Not that you didn’t eventually want to settle down with someone new, but the dating world now was just so–different.

Different in the sense that meeting people organically was becoming increasingly difficult. It wasn’t like how it used to be in high school or college, and it really didn’t take that much effort then to get a man’s number by the end of your outing. 

When you were in your early twenties, a brush of your hand on a man’s arm would’ve worked. An ‘accidental’ bump into someone at a grocery store or cafe might’ve ended in a quick lay. Using these tactics today, though, might earn you some weird looks–have–earned you some weird looks. 

You’re on call with a friend from college when you begin recounting something embarrassing that happened to you recently. At first, the conversation started out about all of the professors you would’ve slept with (if given the chance), but then, one thing led to another, and she asked you something that made you wince: 

“‘How’s your dating life been since, you know, Satoru?’” 

There’s a heavy silence from your end, and she almost thinks you hung up. 

“I mean, if you want to share,” she splurts, attempting to approach this gently, “I know that after the divorce, I wasn’t there for you like you needed, but I’d like to make up for that–if you’d let me.”

Shoko’s always been like that. Blunt and charismatic, but gentle and zephyr-light in the way she cares for those closest to her. It’s a trait of hers that you admire, because not so many people would care to treat your heart with such fragility.

“No, it’s okay. You can ask, you know, it’s not this secret thing,” you start, sighing before continuing, “it happened, and it was a mutual decision.”

Shoko hums on the other side, “Well, I’m still sorry. I let us go without talking for far too long…”

“Well, I accept your apology, even if it’s unwarranted. Like I said, it was mutual and…there wasn’t really an intense grieving period for me? The only thing that hurt me is that you distanced yourself. I mean, the girls did miss their aunt Shoko…” you say, trying to make her feel bad but not too bad. 

“I know, I know, I’m a bad aunt,” she jests, then the tone shifts to something serious. “I think I was just scared because both of you were my best-friends. I didn’t want to ‘pick sides’, but I see now that it was a mutual decision, so I’m assuming you two are on good-terms?” 

Again, you pause, “I mean, yeah. Satoru will always be my best friend. We may not be together romantically but he’s such an integral part of my life, I couldn’t do this–all of this–alone.” After you say it, you feel a weight being lifted off of your chest that you didn’t know was even there. 

You think nobody would understand if you told them this. You think they’d question how a person could divorce someone who’s supposed to be their best-friend. And with the way you describe it, they’d probably think you were still in love with him. But Shoko’s different, she gets it. Which is why saying it to her came so easily. 

“He is a great father,” she chimes in, “but you two rushed into it so quickly, I don’t think either of you had time to discover yourselves after college.”

Although she can’t see it, you smile. Because she gets it. Even if time did place itself in between the two of you, she was there for most of it, when things were still touch-and-go. When things were fresh, and clumsy. 

“Exactly, that was our biggest gripe,” you admit, “We didn’t afford ourselves that time to grow, and I think that hindered our relationship. We weren’t husband and wife first, we were parents–and we were young, way too young.”

“You made it, though,” Shoko tries to brighten the mood, “you’re both amazing parents, and I know those beautiful girls that you created are lucky to have you.” 

The intimacy of the conversation sends your emotions into overdrive. You quickly realize how much you missed her, how much you yearned to talk to her. To reconnect on this level. 

A single tear cascades down your cheek, and you try not to sound like you’re crying when you say, “Ok, enough about that. You wanted to know about my shitty dating life, right?”

It happened last week, the grocery store incident. You were out picking up a few things for dinner when you spotted a cute guy standing outside of the aisle a few rows from you. He was fit beyond measure, in looks and strength, and was wandering around aimlessly in pursuit of red pepper flakes. 

Coincidentally, you just happened to be in the seasoning aisle, and like the good samaritan you were, decided to personally hand-deliver it to him. 

You wince as you vividly recall the embarrassing ordeal that ensued immediately after. 

“Hey,” you peer from behind the aisle, with a bottle of red pepper flakes in tow. “I heard you mumbling about finding this, and you looked pretty lost, so I thought I’d pick ‘em out for you.” 

The man’s brows furrow briefly before his lips up-turn into a grateful smile, “Oh, cool, thank you so much!” As quickly as the conversation started, it ends even quicker. He gives you a final nod of endearment before he’s turning around on his heels to resume his shopping. 

“God, could he be any more dense? The men today really make you work for it, huh?” you mumble to yourself, pulling the bosom of your blouse down until a good amount of cleavage is on display. “Okay, alright. You got this, you got this. This always used to work, right? Yeah, men love boobs.”

Walking up to the man again, you try a different approach–a bolder approach. “Not to be a bother but I was wondering if I could-”

“Babe? Oh, there you are,” a new voice interjects. The owner of the voice emerges from around the corner and walks up to the man with a cart and a baby in tow. You’re stunned, to say the least. All you can do is stand there and blink in complete and utter dumbfoundment. As you remain in their presence, you take a moment to analyze the woman. She’s gorgeous, and toned. A real model-type broad, with feline-ish features that make so much sense paired with the man who appears to be her partner. 

Oh, you think, and apparently say aloud, too. That’s when the woman turns to you, finally acknowledging your much smaller, and much quieter presence. 

“Hi, can we help you?” she smiles, and it’s actually genuine. Toothy and perfect, and totally not jealous. You blink once, twice, before gathering your wits to answer her question. 

“Yeah, uh, no. I actually, uhm, was helping your h-husband. He was looking for red pepper flakes,” you mutter embarrassedly, and point to the bottle in his hand. Upon further observation, you notice that she isn’t exactly wearing a ring. You find this odd, especially because his not wearing a ring is what encouraged you to pursue him. Carefully, you prod. 

“If I may ask, how come neither of you are wearing rings?” The couple gives each other a look, one that makes you feel like the odd man out. A look that is universally known, and without a doubt, could easily be translated to: ‘did this chick really just ask that?’

Still, you smile as you wait for an answer. The woman takes the initiative. “Yeah, we don’t really believe in rings, isn’t that right, babe?” she says so matter-of-factly. You blink again for what seems like the thousandth time, because of all things, you did not expect that to come out of her mouth. Her husband is quick to validate her statement. 

“Yeah, we think rings are unnecessary, you know? You don’t need a piece of metal to confirm your feelings,” he says walking to his partner’s side and wrapping an arm around her. 

Disgustingly, the two give each other googly eyes before locking lips briefly. You can tell they’re the type to probably share this information with just about any soul who asks. Today, you just happened to be that unfortunate soul. 

“Are you married?” she queries, tilting her head against her husband’s chest.

“I was, now we just…co-parent,” you purse your lips, ready for this entire interaction to be over. The woman frowns at your answer, and this time it’s not as genuine.

“Awe, well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It was actually a mutual decision,” you quip.

“Okay,” she smiles, widening her eyes at her husband to signal a departure, “well, it was nice meeting you, and thank you for the red pepper flakes.”

The family turns away and heads to the front where check-out is. You don’t even buy the items you intended to purchase, just leave your cart in the middle of whatever aisle you abandoned it and leave the store.

“Oh, baby, you didn’t?” Shoko asks in horror. You nod your head, still forgetting she can’t see you and the way you’re sliding down against the wall. 

“I did, and I shan't ever again,” a laugh erupts from your throat. 

“I mean, fuck, are we getting old? ‘Don’t believe in rings,’” she mumbles, “Don’t believe in rings, my ass! Is this what the youth are doing these days? Not proposing with rings?”

Now that you think about it, you wonder how that would even work. “Yeah, right? I mean, how does that even work? ‘Will you marry me? But, actually, you should know I don’t have a ring for you, so people will have to guess that we’re together purely based on vibes and energy,’” you mock, in a not-so-great man voice. 

Shoko’s laughing so hard by the end of your bit that she breaks the sound barrier, and the sound that makes on the phone sends you into your own fit of laughter. You laugh so hard it seems like a stream of pee comes out. Curse your developed incontinence after motherhood.

“God, you’re so stupid, I can’t breathe,” she says exasperatedly, and you know that on the other side she’s probably keeling over in her bed. 

“Oh, please. I bet you haven’t laughed this hard in a long time, bitch.”

“I haven’t,” she cackles. This back-and-forth continues until the two of you settle down enough to continue discussing your (pee-inducing) love life. 

“You tried any dating apps?” 

It’s a simple and valid question, but it only makes you laugh even harder. You only stop when the other side of the line goes quiet. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. It’s what everyone’s doing these days! You’re not that old, you know.”

“Shut up,” you kid, “ it’s just that I never considered it. I mean, dating apps feel so impersonal. How serious do people even take it?” 

“Sure, there’s people who use it for casual hook-ups and stuff, but a lot of people do come out of it with a relationship. Just don’t knock it ‘till you try it.”

“Oh?” you muse, curious. You wish Shoko could see your face, and the weird little dance your brows were doing. “Shoko, have you used a dating app before?” 

The brunette kisses her teeth. “Can’t get anything past you.”

“Never.”

There’s a sense of hesitance but you encourage her to elaborate because ‘she became estranged from you for almost a decade and needed to pay her dues’. Sighing defeatedly, she eventually acquiesces. 

“Fine, fine, maybe I’ve…been on a few dates,” she starts, “–and had a few one night stands, maybe more than a few, and maybe even dated a guy that turned into my stalker–”

“Ieiri Shoko! You naughty, naughty girl! Wait, stalker?”

“To make a long story short, I got a restraining order on that creep. Anyway,” she segues, attempting to change the subject, “We should make you a profile!”

For the rest of your phone call, Shoko guides you through all of the dating app basics. She offers her expert advice as you scroll through your camera roll for potential photos to use. You go through about a hundred before you finally settle on five that she really likes. 

The one that she tells you to put first is a photo of you in a bikini. It’s a few years old but she says you look ‘radiant’ and that your ‘tits were practically spilling out of the cups’. Plus, for further consolation, she says most people on dating apps are liars. 

“Everyone’s got at least one old photo on their profile, doesn’t make you a catfish,” she quips, “just means you’re a nostalgic person!” 

“Right…” 

The next one is a selfie. You’re smiling big in it, showing your gums, and it’s genuine. Shoko says guys like those types of photos because it shows them that you’re approachable. It also won her over because it’s fairly recent, too. 

Out of all your photos, there’s only a select few that were taken within the year. You had to admit to her that you never really took photos of yourself anymore. Satoru took most of your candids. Still, she had a mission. And she wasn’t going to be satisfied until she stuck around to see your first match. 

“After the selfie you should put the one of you with the girls.”

The picture she’s referring to is one Satoru also took. You remember that day fondly, and even now, the memories feel like a warm embrace. 

about 8 years ago . . .

“Dad, mom, look! Hurry!” Hana, your oldest, shouts. Satoru and you are sitting on a blanket up on the sand dunes with Haruki, who’s trying her best to make a sand castle–to no avail. 

“What is it, hon?” Satoru and you rush over to her, snatching toddler Haruki in the same breath. When you get to the scene, a flood of warmth washes over you upon discovering the ‘threat’. 

“See, it’s baby turtles!” Hana’s squatting in the sand, watching with pure and unfettered fascination as the hatchlings crawl north to the ocean. When she looks up at you, with eyes so bright, and a smile so big that’s missing two of her front teeth, you want to cry. 

“Oh, hon, that’s beautiful,” you gasp, lowering to your haunches so that you can join her. Satoru is about to follow suit before deciding at the last minute to go back to the blanket. When he returns, he snaps a picture unbeknownst to you. Eventually, though, you turn your gaze to him and he captures–what he used to think then–the ‘prettiest’ photo of you.

“You sneaking photos of me?” you squint, pointing at him. He trods closer until he’s standing above you. Then he snaps another. Your head’s tilted up, and you’ve got one eye open, and the other closed because of the sun. He always liked when you squinted like that because it made your nose do this cute little scrunch. 

“Yup, ���cause you’re my muse.”

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Shoko says your name on the other line.

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Just what?” she queries, waiting for a response. 

“I wanna use it, but my ex-husband took it. It feels weird, you know? And do I want to use a photo of me with the girls?”

“Hon, who cares if Satoru took the photo? It’s still a good photo, and to answer your second question, why wouldn’t you include a picture with your girls?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just afraid no one will be interested. Nothing about a picture of a mom with her two daughters exactly screams ‘fuck me’.”

Shoko lets out a small chuckle but you’re being serious. “Oh, sweetie. You’re so cute. Milfs are in these days, I don’t think I’m the one getting old, I think it’s just you!”

“Ha-ha, laugh at the mom,” you feign annoyance, but give her a laugh in return.

“But seriously, please use that photo. Nobody’s going to skip you just because you’re a mom. A lot of men on there have kids of their own, just gotta tweak your settings,” Shoko reassures you.

By the end of your call, the profile is set. You thank your old friend for the previous heart-to-heart conversation, and the time she spent helping you set up your profile.

“Keep me updated, and don’t talk about mom stuff, okay? Now, I’m not saying you can’t talk about them,” she begins, “but show these guys your personality! I know she’s in the closet somewhere hiding next to our old slutty clubbing clothes.”  

Then, the both of you say your goodbyes and she wishes you a good-luck on your newly established dating journey. As you lay in your bed, you give your profile a final onceover. Not too bad, you think to yourself. 

You ended up using all of the photos she had originally picked out for you. Even the beach photo. To compensate for your old photos, though, Shoko made sure that your prompts were witty and full of personality. 

“I’d match me, I think. No, yeah, these are funny. She did a good job.”

The following day, you open your phone to fifty notifications from the dating app. A tingle of excitement shoots through your body from the tip of your toes, to the top of your head. It takes all of your might not to squeal in the office. 

“Holy fuck,” you whisper at your desk. The amount of notifications that you initially saw on your homescreen read ‘50’ but when you opened the app, it showed you an overwhelming ‘100’ with a fat plus sign next to it. “Wait, are these all the people who liked me? Shoko’s gonna flip.” 

Getting up from your chair, you make a beeline to the nearest bathroom. Not that you have to use it, but so you can scroll through all the potential prospects without your boss seeing you on your phone. 

Pulling open the door to the bathroom, you close it shut behind you and lock it. A few minutes pass in the time you’re able to get through about half of the people who liked you. You end up skipping a lot of them. They’re either too young, too self-absorbed, creepy, or just downright not your type. 

Some stick out, though. Even trick you into thinking they’re potential matches, but then the other shoe drops–because there’s always another shoe. You’ll scroll through their profiles, and they’ll seemingly have all the perfect traits: intelligent, witty, handsome, tall–and then, boom. You see their ‘don’t want kids’ preference. Every failed match only discourages you more and more. 

It’s weird, because your profile preferences are set to ‘have kids’ and you even have a photo pictured with your girls. So why are men liking your profile despite that? After a few more scrolls, you’re just about ready to head back to your desk but then–you have a hit. 

Your finger hovers over the ‘x’ at the bottom of the screen, then retracts. The guy’s profile at first impression is miles better than the rest, it’s almost too good to be true. His first photo is what piqued your interest. It’s of him posing for a silly photo with his sons, and he’s got his arms draped around their shoulders. 

As you scroll down his profile, you see that there’s even more of him with his children. You take this as a green flag. He wants people to know he has kids, and that he isn’t embarrassed to show them off. You admire him for it. 

The last few remaining photos are an amalgamation of selfies and full-body photos. To the average, well-adjusted adult, looks wouldn’t be a deal breaker. But he definitely wasn’t too bad on the eyes, and you were not complaining about that–especially, after the odd men you had to scroll through to get here. In other words, he was gorgeous and still fit despite being older than you (him, respectively being in his early forties). 

Checking the time on your phone, you realize that you’re pushing your little ‘bathroom break’. Before heading back to your desk, you decide to respond to his first photo.

You: Cute! Could never get my girls to stand so still for a photo like this now haha :)

Work goes by slower than you’d like, but finishes up just in time when you get a notification from the dating app. You’re a little more excited than you’d care to admit. Tidying up your workspace, you say your goodbyes to your colleagues and head to the elevator. Absent-mindedly, you rush to answer his message but realize it won’t go through because of the elevator’s poor service.

Kazuki: Oh, they’re moody and grown now, don’t be fooled. I can't remember the last time I saw my youngest smile. 

You don’t answer his reply until you get home. Actually, you do just about everything but answer his reply: check on the girls, shower, prepare dinner, pour a glass of wine–you’re nervous, and you don’t know why. But you know you should probably answer soon before he becomes disinterested. So you get comfortable in bed with your glass of wine and pull open his chat.

You: Lol, know that all too well. Kids are little assholes, aren’t they?

The speed in which he reads your text is startling, you don’t even have enough time to close out of the chat. Then, he responds. 

Kazuki: Hell yeah they are! 

Kazuki: Sometimes I want to strangle my youngest. He’s at that age where he’s starting to rebel and question everything. I told him he was supposed to be the ‘easy’ one, but his knucklehead brothers are bad influences on him…Tell me, does it ever get easier?

You: Sounds a lot like my oldest. She used to cling to me like a koala but now she’s the ring leader, and I’m the enemy. My youngest still loves her mama, though (for now lol). 

You: And to answer your question, I’d like to think so? 

You take a second before continuing your response. Shoko told you to keep the mom talk limited, but this seems to be working for you so far, and he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. So for once, you’re going to ignore her advice. 

You: Kids go through phases. It's our job to reassure them that we’re not going anywhere. No matter how much they push us away or try to, that is :)

Kazuki’s chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. You think he’s deciding on what to say. 

Kazuki: I can tell we’re gonna get along great. It’s nice opening up like this, you know? Talking to another parent. If I'm being honest, dating apps have always intimidated me…

Kazuki: People see kids as ‘baggage’, and it really bothers me. My kids aren’t baggage. They’re the best parts of me. And if someone doesn’t see that, then we have no business getting to know each other. 

Kazuki: Sorry for getting all sappy. Just felt like I needed to say it. 

His apology makes you frown. It feels like a breath of fresh air to hear someone talk about their kids so lovingly, because you feel the exact same way. You’re glad you downloaded the app, and you make a mental note to thank Shoko again later (after you debrief her about this). 

You: Never apologize for speaking about your kids! And if we’re being absolutely transparent, that was my biggest gripe with downloading this app, too. 

You: I’m so glad we matched each other. I’d like to get to know you more. And I’m hoping the feeling’s mutual?

Kazuki: It’s more than mutual. 

Kazuki: Don’t want to get ahead of myself but how do you feel about dinner? There’s a cool high-scale restaurant in the city that I haven’t been to yet. Heard it’s got two Michelin stars despite opening up not too long ago. 

The prospect of going on a sit-down dinner date has your stomach in knots. It’s been a hot minute since the last time you’ve done so, but you’re eager to know the man behind the screen on a more personal level. Plus, being treated to a high-scale restaurant with two Michelin stars doesn’t seem too bad either. You’re never one to turn down free dinner.

You: I’d love to, but how soon we talkin’? Gotta see if it’ll align with my schedule.

Kazuki: How’s this Friday at 8 sound? :)

The days leading up to Friday breeze by in a blur. For the majority of the week, it feels like you’re walking on cloud nine. Eventually, the conversation transitions from the dating app to exchanging phone numbers, and since then, the two of you have been texting back-and-forth everyday.

You talk about mundane things. Work, shows, movies, books you’ve recently read, what your kids are up to–but the other things? The other messages are flirty, and sexy, and filled with so much tension that it could cut a rope in half. 

In between messages, the two of you have also exchanged a few photos. Nothing risqué or anything of that nature, just random photos of you throughout the day. The last one he sent was a few hours ago of him at work, captioned with: ‘Could this meeting be any longer?’. 

You reply to the message with the ‘ha ha’ reaction, in consideration of not wanting to get him in trouble at work (even if he was the one who initiated the conversation). As the days go by, though, you make it a habit to update Shoko every step of the way. 

Her first reaction to hearing about him was enthusiastic. That is, until you showed her screenshots from his profile. You vaguely remember her saying something that was meant as a compliment, but came out more like an insult. 

“‘Oh, he’s a dad!” was her initial response, “oh, he’s a dad…and he really loves his kids. You’re meant for each other.’” 

When you tried to ask her what she meant by that, she changed the subject. Every update since then has earned slightly more positive reactions, though.

Today, you ask her for more advice. Only this time, you’re on video call. 

“Shokoooo,” you drawl, “our date is tomorrow! You have to help me find something to wear.” The panic in your voice is so palpable, she can almost feel your shaky hands through the screen. Flipping the camera, you hurriedly pan your phone around the closet. 

“Breathe, girl, breathe,” she demonstrates first, before telling you to repeat the same motions. “Take me to that section over there–no, not that one–wait, yep, there.” You amble over to the area she’s directing you to through the phone.

“What’s that black little number right there?” She points. You prop the phone up on a shelf and scour through the section, tugging out a dress you haven’t seen in ages (which has you questioning how she even spotted it because it was pretty far back into the closet). Walking back into frame, you hold the fabric up to your body. 

Shoko nods in approval, “That’s the one, babe. Try it on!” 

It’d been about a decade since the last time you wore this dress. It’d also been about a decade since you were ever this small. Looking in the mirror, you run your hands over every surface inch, every crevice of the dress, in a newfound sense of appreciation for the adult weight you’ve gained since becoming a mother. 

The dress was always stunning but it hugged everything perfectly even more so now. When you walk back into frame, your friend gives you a look of pure adoration. She’s so enthralled that she snaps a few screenshots for keepsaking. 

“Thank god it’s Satoru’s turn to get the kids tonight,” she says, “‘cause you’re definitely getting some tonight.” 

You roll your eyes, reminding her she’s on speaker phone. “Oh, please. It’s just dinner!”

“Not in that dress,” she retorts, wagging her finger in the camera. While the two of you continue to chat about the details of tonight, a knock on your bedroom door draws your attention. 

“Mom, can I come in?” the voice sounds. It’s Haruki. 

“Come in, hon!” 

After you give the ok, you turn to Shoko and mouth to her to behave. Haruki turns the knob and enters, closing the door behind her. She sees you standing in front of the mirror before you see her, and silently utters a ‘wow’. You’re just about done putting your earrings in when you join her in the other room. 

“What do you think, bun? Does your mom look hot?” you spin around, smoothing your hands down the length of the dress. You wait in anticipation for her approval, because if anyone could tell it like it is, it was always going to be a kid. Your Haruki was no exception. 

“You look really pretty, Mom. I’m glad you’re going out tonight, I mean, you don’t really have friends so I think this will be good for you,” she elaborates, though you wish she would’ve stopped at the compliment. 

Still, it puts a smile on your face to hear her verbalize that she’s okay with you doing something for yourself. You never quite discussed the prospect of getting back out there with your kids–and not even intentionally. It just never felt like the right time. 

“You could’ve stopped at the compliment, punk!” you grab her, then wrap her in your arms, “but thank you. Love you, bun.”

“Love you more, mama.” Neither of you make the effort to pull away. Instead, you both stand there. Hugging, breathing, embracing each other’s warmth. You don’t always get hugs this good, so when you do, you savor it. Drag it out until your arms and legs get all tingly. 

Or until someone interrupts. Another knock on the door. This time it’s Hana. 

“Ew, what’s going on?” Hana feigns a look of disgust. You know she’s just jealous; she’ll never admit it, though. Which is why sometimes you have to force her to participate. 

“Get over here,” you scrunch your nose, forcefully pulling her into your tight embrace. She tries to protest but eventually accepts defeat. You squeeze them both until they whine that they can’t breathe anymore. Then you squeeze them some more because this one’s for you. 

“My special girls,” you breathe in, taking in all of their love. Soaking it all up so that tonight you have the courage to try again. To allow yourself a love of your own. When you let go, there’s a sniffle from the closet. It totally dawned on you that Shoko was still on the phone. 

“They’re so big now, they don’t even know their auntie,” she fakes a sob, blowing her nose into a tissue. 

“Mom, who’s on the phone?” Haruki queries with a confused expression etched onto her face. It suddenly dawns on you again that although you’ve been communicating with Shoko again, you haven’t exactly told them. 

“Hey, you came in here to tell me something right, Han?” Your attempt to change the subject is poorly done, which doesn’t come as a surprise to you considering deflection has never quite been an ability you excelled at. Nonetheless, the look of suspicion they give you after is fleeting before they explain to you in unison that their father is here. 

“Your father’s been waiting down there this whole time and nobody cared to tell me?” you whisper-yell, left eye twitching to emphasize your ill-preparedness. The girls only shrug their shoulders in response, like this was something you were just supposed to know. 

“Well, you did force us into a hug and make us do all that Kumbaya stuff,” Hana mumbles under her breath.

“Okay, enough about all that. Are you guys all packed? Where are your bags? I don’t want your dad seeing–” 

“You don’t want dad to see your date, right?” Hana raises a brow, all knowing. Sometimes she was a little too smart for her own good. You want to blame that on the private schools Satoru had them enrolled in, but really you just know she’s just a menace in her own right. She learned that from him. 

“I agree with the kid,” a voice chimes in. You rush to the closet and grab your phone from the shelf. There’s a huge, shit-eating grin on Shoko’s face. Somehow she’s responsible for this. You don’t know how yet, nor do you have proof, but you know it. 

“Okay, thank you, love you, bye!” Before you can hang up, Shoko blurts something. 

“Tell him I said hi,” she begins, “–andnottogetahardonwhenheseesyou!”

You hang up the call and roll your eyes, chuckling to yourself because of her idiocy. When you enter the corridor, you hear a faint sound of hushed voices from downstairs. It’s only when you round the bannister at the top, when those voices become discernible and louder. 

You stop at the top, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like all the air in your lungs have expelled. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of what you’re wearing, and the fabric, and the way it clings to your body. Neither he, nor you, look away–you should, you want to, but you don’t. 

And in the time the two of you gaze upon the other, time stops for a modicum of a second. In this second, you and him are the last two souls in the world. At least, that’s how it feels anyway before he breaks eye contact. 

You shift your gaze shortly after, and put on a trained smile. Those eyes of his were always so intense. You guess you forgot over the years how easy it was to lose yourself in the crystalline pools of them. Gathering your wits, you resume your movements and saunter down the imperial staircase. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Sort of lost track of time, but I think the girls are all packed,” you say, your voice coming to a decrescendo upon noticing the way his eyes trail over your frame. They’re unreadable, though. Indifferent, and honestly, you’re not sure how to feel. So, you begin fidgeting uncomfortably with the rings around your finger. 

Then, he smiles. It’s eerie and fake. “Not a problem, I haven’t been here too long. But, uh,” he begins ambling around the place, touching random objects around the living room, “Didn’t know you had plans. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with your colleagues?” 

You furrow your brows, confused with his sudden interests in your plans. It wasn���t really like him to prod. “No, actually,” you rock back-and-forth on the balls of your heels, “i’m…i’m going on a date,” you finish with a pursed smile. He only nods his head in response, still walking around the place touching stuff, messing with the picture frames on the mantle. They’re all crooked now. 

“How come this is the only picture you have up of me,” he asks suddenly. You know, that he knows, the answer to that. And he knows, that you know, you’ll indulge in his games anyway. 

“The girls wanted them in their rooms. Why do you ask? You want me to go grab them and put ‘em all up around the house?” Again, he doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a final once over before heading back to the foyer to ask if the girls are all set to go. 

“Yeah, but I can’t find my tablet, dad. Can I go look for it?” Haruki speaks up. “I thought I packed it.”

Satoru looks at the time on his watch, pinches the crease in between his brows. “Sure, kiddo. Can we make it quick, please?” He throws his hand in the air for emphasis, then points to his watch. Haruki nods, then runs up the stairs. 

“Actually, you go on up too and help your sister. You guys are holding up dad,” you turn to Hana and gesture for her to head up with your head. She rolls her eyes, yelling up the stairs for her younger sister to ‘freaking hurry up’. 

You and Satoru both turn to each other with wide eyes, laughing at the nerve of those children. 

“They get that attitude from you, you know,” you point to him, driving your index finger into his bicep. 

“You sure? Their mom’s got a pretty bad mouth on her, too. Or, have you forgotten?” He teases, bending his knees slightly to level his eyes with yours, intruding into your space. The smirk he dons is cheeky, too friendly–too inviting. You want to smack it off of him. 

“Oh, shut u–” the sound of your phone chiming interrupts your banter. It’s a message from Kazuki, and you open it while Satoru stands over you. Probably close enough to read the message on his own if he wanted. 

Kazuki: Hey, I hate to do this but I don’t think I can go through with tonight. 

When you read the message, your heart drops into your stomach. There goes the other shoe, you think, fully embracing your pessimism. Who were you kidding, really? To think that tonight you’d go out and have a good time. Do something for yourself. It was stupidity. 

Chat bubbles pop up on the screen. He has more to say. 

He has more to say, and you’re fighting the urge to cry–to not shake out of sheer frustration while you’re still standing in front of Satoru. Because nothing would be worse than him seeing you can’t even land a date. 

Kazuki: I recently just went through a divorce, and I know that I should have informed you about this before continuing our conversations…Especially since you’ve been so transparent with me about your own divorce and strife.

Kazuki: But if I’m being completely honest, I was scared. I genuinely wanted to see this through, at first. I wanted to forget about my ex-wife for just one night. But I realized I’ve been asking the impossible of myself…I’m still in love with her, and it’s because I’m in love with her that I won’t allow myself to lead you on any further. 

Kazuki: I think we would’ve had a good time tonight. It's unfortunate we had to meet under such circumstances because you’re a really lovely woman, and I’m sorry an asshole is standing you up right now. 

Kazuki: Take care. I know there’s a guy out there just waiting for his shot. 

Satoru takes notice of the way your face drops as you read over the messages. Part of him wants to overstep his boundaries and take a peek at the screen. But he doesn’t. He gives you your space and takes a seat on the couch, waits for you to say something first. 

In the meantime, he studies your face. Watches intently as your eyes become glossy the more you scan the messages, watches as your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hold back from crying. He thinks he knows what just happened. 

Taking a deep breath, you lock your phone and put on another trained smile, “Well, looks like I’m staying in tonight.” Satoru dislikes when you do that. When you put on a fake smile and overcompensate to make others around you feel better, even when it’s so very obvious you aren’t. He wishes that sometimes you would just be selfish–act out. 

And then you continue the façade. It makes his skin itch. 

“I was too tired anyway, guess I can just catch up o–”

“Will you stop,” he spits, rising from his seat on the couch to stand. It comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t regret it. You look at him like he’s got two heads as he walks over to the mantle and leans against it. His back is turned towards you, and the palms of his hands hold the crest of it. He uses it as leverage to rock on the heels of his feet. You can tell there’s something he wants to say because of the way his jaw ticks. 

Satoru is never one to bite his tongue, so you’re not exactly sure why he’s choosing to be so restrained. If he wasn’t going to spit it out, you were going to poke. “What’s your problem?” 

He chuckles at this, rubs his chin then pushes off the mantle to stand in front of you, gets all in your space again. The movement almost sends you back but you hold your ground, tilt your chin up at him and repeat the question. Slowly, this time with more venom. 

“My problem? What’s your problem?” He breathes through his nose, his eyes flickering back-and-forth between your own. “Why do you always pretend like you’re not lonely? It’s okay if you were looking forward to having fun tonight. It’s okay to be upset and be mad at the asshole who stood you up!”

With every verbal prod at you, the gap between you decreases. His feet inch closer and closer to your own and force you to retreat farther until your back hits the wall. The coldness of it causes your breath to hitch, and you try to stay calm as Satoru encroaches more into your personal space. Being on the receiving end of his passion was always suffocating, you feel exposed under the intensity of his gaze–even more so as he continues to tear into you. 

“Why do you even care?!” you cut him off, eyes wide and veins pumping full of adrenaline. “It’s not your place to be so invested in my life anymore! We’re not together, you don’t have to get so hot and bothered about things going shitty for me. I’m a big girl, and I’m perfectly capable of fighting my own battles.” 

By the time you finish, you’re a heaving, shaking mess. He takes this as a sign to withdraw from your space, and goes to sit back down on the couch. When you finally settle your nerves, you join him, leaving a foot of space in between you. There’s an awkward silence, one that wouldn’t have even happened if he just respected your boundaries in the first place. Now he feels like the asshole instead of the actual asshole who dumped you. Taking a hesitant breath, he decides to speak up. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t…It wasn’t my intention to come off so strong like that,” he begins, “I just wanted to let you know that you don’t always have to pretend to be fine. It’s not fair, you shouldn’t do that to yourself.” His eyes wander over to you reluctantly, like he’s scared that if he looks too long you’ll disengage from the conversation. 

“It’s okay,” your voice is small, just above a whisper. You want to face him, but you know that if you do, you'll break into a million pieces. So you keep your gaze downward, busy yourself with the stray pieces of thread on the bottom of your dress. “You’re right, you know. I think I just…I think I just tell myself to expect disappointment so that when something bad happens, I’ll know it’s not because I got my hopes up.” 

Satoru turns to you, and you can see him frown through your peripheral. Still, you don’t face him because you’re not done talking. But you thank him silently for listening without interrupting. 

“Even though you’re right, I don’t appreciate the way you came on so strongly. We’re not married anymore, we’re not a couple–we’re co-parents. So if there’s something I want you to know about that’s outside of the scope of our kids, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, leave it alone.”

Satoru’s face softens. For once you’re being selfish, putting your foot down. This is the side of you he likes. “Okay. I respect that,” he says, “But can I ask you something?” The smile on his face is mirthful, like he’s got something else up his sleeves this evening. Skeptical, you finally face him with a raised brow. 

“What?”

“Let me take you to dinner.” 

You laugh in his face, even go as far as smacking his arm because you want him to know you found the joke really funny. He doesn’t budge, and that’s when you realize he’s being serious. 

“Wait, what?” 

“Let’s go to dinner,” he stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. You tilt your head in disbelief. You’re just waiting for someone to tell you you’re on that old reality show punk’d. 

“Funny, I just poured my heart out to you and now you’re making fun of me,” you roll your eyes, feigning annoyance. 

“I’m being serious,” he reassures, “you’re already dressed up. It’d be a shame for it to go to waste.” His eyes are twinkling with hope, and once again, you find yourself falling victim to their persuasiveness. 

Being under Gojo Satoru’s gaze was suffocating. 

Giving in, you ask, “So what are you gonna do? Drive all the way home to get dressed?” 

The question is genuine, but the bastard just grins. “I’m a little hurt,” he throws a hand over his heart, “don’t you know me by now? I’m a businessman. I keep pressed blazers and slacks on me at all times.”

He swings his keys around his index finger, hoping that the promise of a spare change of clothes being in his car is enough to convince you to say yes. 

“I don’t know…” you trail. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Somehow he was able to persuade you into going out. After he changed into his spare clothes, you ended up telling your girls that there was gonna be a change of plans, and that they’d go home with their dad tomorrow. 

Of course, before leaving, you made sure to leave some money on the table for pizza, and you also made sure to drill into their heads not to open the door for anyone except the delivery guy. You knew they knew the drill already, but it didn’t feel right to leave without saying it anyway. 

“Be good, listen to your sister, she’s in charge,” you pinch Haruki’s cheek. Hana smirks, nodding her head in agreement with you. 

“I will mom, I know,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“And you,” your finger wags at Hana, her smirk drops. “Don’t provoke your sister, be nice. Act like you love each other, please.” 

“Fine, whatever. I guess,” she grabs the knob to the door, ready to kick the both of you out already. “So does this mean the two of you are back together, or?” 

Satoru and you turn to each other before answering in unison, “No.” 

“Okay, cool. Well, have fun,” she practically closes the door on the two of you, locking it after. Satoru is just as dumbfounded as you are, but then you break into a fit of laughter. 

“Those kids, man.”

“Your kids!” you correct, pushing him playfully as the both of you walk down the pebbled pathway. He finds his equilibrium in time to unlock the car and open your side of the door. You pause before ducking inside.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you,” you jest, “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“How could it be when I’m alive?” He says matter-of-factly, closing your side of the door. He taps the top of the car before sliding across the hood to the other side. Nice to see some things never changed. 

When he gets inside and turns on the car, he puts his hand on the back of your seat to back out. The proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you have to physically refrain from letting your eyes linger on his jaw, and his arms, and the face he makes when he’s trying to concentrate. 

You try to dispel these less-than-friendly thoughts by looking somewhere, anywhere else but him. But you can’t, and it’s irritating. 

This is the second time tonight you’ve been this close, and it’s only this time that you realize something about him is…different. Earlier, he didn’t really smell like anything, but you quickly notice his smell has changed. 

There’s a sort of piney scent coming from him. It’s not strong or obnoxious enough to blind your nostrils, but it’s enough for you to just barely pick up on it. You almost think it was premeditated, that he took the liberty of spritzing some on before walking you to the car. Before you separated, he’d made it a habit to wear variations of woody scents for you. If you can recall correctly, a passing comment you made about the cologne he was wearing that day is what sparked the habit. 

Surely, this couldn’t be coincidental? 

“You smell nice,” you blurt, filling in the silence. 

Satoru glances at you, “Thank you.” You hate that from the corner of your eye, you can see his stupid little smirk growing bigger by the minute. He already had a big ego, it didn’t need to be stroked any more. 

“Don’t let it go to your head, though. You usually smell pretty rank.”

“Ohhh, is that so? Guess I gotta start wearing this more often then, huh?”

“Sure, do what you want,” you say, trying to remain indifferent even though you’re failing terribly to hide your smile. When the car approaches a red light, you finally decide to ask the big question. “So where are you taking me?” 

“You’ll see,” he glances over, “Just know I’m good friends with the owner, so last minute reservations weren't a problem.” 

The rest of the car ride is silent, save for the low hum of the music playing on the radio. When you arrive at the location, Satoru makes sure to walk all the way around to your side of the door again and open it. Immediately after, the two of you are greeted by a young male. He’s wearing a white button down, black slacks, and a black vest with a red tie. Judging by his appearance, you assume he’s a valet driver. 

Satoru drops his keys in the driver’s hands, and escorts you towards the entrance. The boy bows and goes to park the car. Looking around, you start to wonder where exactly this place is supposed to be. The area is dark and secluded, and from where you stand outside, it doesn’t sound like there’s supposed to be a restaurant here. You don’t hear any voices, you don’t even see any security or other passerbyers. 

Still, you follow behind him like a duckling, only coming to a halt when he leads you to a door taller than the both of you. He gestures for you to back up, then raises his knuckles to blow a strong, single knock. You’re taken by surprise when a set of angry eyes appear behind a slot in the door. 

The pair of eyes first scan over you, then Satoru. A gruff voice is second to accompany them, “Where can I get a good drink?” 

“I heard the bar down the street is nice,” Satoru answers. The hatch to the door closes, then swings open the door, and the man behind it moves aside to welcome you in.

“Follow me, please.” Once he closes the door, he begins guiding you down the dimly lit hallway. After making what seems like your hundredth turn, you eventually reach a staircase. The man gestures for you to go on ahead, and you think this is him implying where the three of you will depart.

“Thank you,” you say softly, disappearing down the stairs. Satoru isn’t too far behind, keeping a pace between you. As you near the end of the long, narrow hallway, a stream of white light brightens up your whole path. It leads you down to another door like a beacon of light, and when you reach it, you can hear voices, live music, and dishes clanking on the other side. It’s bustling with life. A huge, joyous smile plasters across your face. It’s almost child-like in appearance, like you haven’t seen something this cool in a long time. 

Satoru stands beside you and winks. “What d’ya think? Any idea yet where we are?” 

“I think this is fucking cool, and hm,” you take a second to mull it over, “are we at a speakeasy?” 

“Smart girl. Now come on.” Stepping back, you allow him to pull open the door, and when he does, there isn’t a word to describe the atmosphere of the place you step into. All you can do is stand there in astonishment. Before long, a man walks up to you. 

“Welcome, what is the name you reserved under?” 

“Gojo.”

Nodding, the host instructs you to follow after him. He leads you to a private seating area, somewhere far in the back that’s secluded from the other patrons. The space is much bigger, and much more extravagant. You know you’re only sitting way back here because Satoru is who he is. And in all the years you’ve known him, his connections were just another party trick in his arsenal. 

The hostess seats you, then Satoru, and tells you that a waiter will be with you shortly. 

“This is nice, really nice, but is it–”

“Legal?” he finishes your sentence, “don’t worry. It’s a modern speakeasy-style restaurant. There’s nothing illegal going on here, promise.” 

While you wait for your designated waiter, your focus shifts from the man in front of you to the man singing on the stage. Up until now, his voice was white noise in the background, but then he started singing a tune scarily reminiscent of your past–and your breath catches in your throat. 

If I ever leave you, baby

You can say I told you so

And if I ever hurt you

You know, I hurt myself…

Turning your gaze back to Satoru, you squint your eyes mirthfully in disbelief. You wonder if this is just a funny coincidence, if this is the universe playing her tricks, but you know deep down, that coincidences and Gojo Satoru don’t belong in the same sentence. 

You open your mouth to speak, but quickly close it when you see the waiter approaching from the corner of your eye. He greets the both of you with a polite smile, then sets down two glasses of water. 

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for the night,” he says, placing a menu in front of you, “Can I get you fine folks started off with a bottle of wine?” 

Satoru nods, tells him to bring the best bottle of red they have and then gestures for him to come closer so that he can whisper something in his ear. All the while, you sit back in your seat observing, clicking your nails on the table until the server pulls back and bows. 

When he departs, you immediately lean in over the table, and ask, “Just how much time did you have to plan all of this?” 

Satoru feigns aloofness, taking a sip of his water, “What do you mean?” 

You roll your eyes, gesturing at the stage with your eyes. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, he goes, “Oh, that? Yeah, I had nothing to do with that. But isn’t it funny they’re playing our old song?” 

Now he’s smirking, with his elbow leaning back on the chair, and a gaze so piercing, you’re certain you’ll crumble into nothing unless you look away. So you do, avert your gaze back to the stage and sway calmly. 

Is that any way for a man to carry on

Do you think I want my loved one gone

Said I love you

More than you’ll ever know

More than you’ll ever know

“So funny,” you counter. 

Eventually, the server comes back with a bottle. “1982 Chateau Latife Rothschild,” he holds it out to present, “Is this alright?” 

Despite the years spent with Satoru, and the many elitist events you often attended with him, your knowledge on wine had never surpassed anything but surface level. You knew the difference between good wine and cheap wine was the taste, but your taste buds had grown accustomed to store-bought, so if anything, store-bought tasted like heaven to you. Anyway, though, you nod your head and urge him to pour a glass. 

“Thank you,” you smile, before gently swirling the glass and bringing it up to your nose to smell (something you only know to do after being the odd man out at so many company banquets). Satoru waits for you to sip your glass before he sips his. The way you melt into your seat is a silent assurance that you’re pleased. 

“This is great, you’re amazing,” you tell the server, who seems pleased by your compliment. 

“Glad to be of service, miss. Are you ready to order?” 

Dinner goes by smoothly. In fact, it goes by so smoothly, you and Satoru finish the entire bottle of wine. Now you sit at the table, bellies full, faces flushed and sore from laughing, and now you find yourself telling him about the grocery store incident. If you had half a mind (a sober one), you’d shut up right this second to save yourself from the embarrassment. But you don’t. And Satoru’s very persuasive when you’re tipsy. 

“Keep going,” he leans in, hand nestled under his chin. He’s completely invested in the story. Actually, as soon as he heard the words ‘store’ and ‘cute guy’, he just had to know more. And you begging him to change the subject didn’t help, not when the sadist in him loved to see you so embarrassed. 

“Fine,” you hiccup, “It was so - so bad, Toru.” He doesn’t miss the way you slip and call him by the nickname you’d always reserved for him. It makes his heart race, and god, does he miss the way it sounds spilling from your lips. But he ignores the feeling, and refocuses on your story instead. Which, by the way, was proving to be a task in itself because his eyes couldn’t stop drifting back down to your lips. So soft, so–

“And then she said ‘we don’t believe in rings,’” you whisper, fist coming down on the table. The sound it makes nearly sobers you up, and you realize just how loud you’re being despite your table being secluded from others. Giggling like a kid, you continue, “I mean, how fucking insane is that?!” 

“Something as bizarre as that could only ever happen to you,” he replies, laughing along with you, “those people were crazy.” 

“The craziest,” you agree, throwing your head back in another fit of laughter. Gradually, the two of you begin to settle down, and once again, you find your attention being drawn back to the man on the stage. Only this time, he’s making an announcement.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman. Tonight I’ve got a special request,” he says, looking out into the audience. Looking at you. “This one’s for a very special lady who, from what I’ve been told, is a great mother that needs to start doing things for herself.” 

The singer steps out of the spotlight and hands the note to a server. Your server. Then he begins to sing, and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach. It was your wedding song. 

[...] I don’t even know how to love you

Just the way you want me to

But I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

Yes, I’m ready (ready) to learn (to learn)

“Now this one? This one was me,” Satoru leans forward, and you swiftly turn your head to face him. He smiles as he watches your face go through ten different emotions before ultimately softening. It warms your heart to see how incredibly planned this evening was, despite the amount of time he was given to work with. Even so, it kind of scares you–because then that meant this was a grand gesture–that this was his way of saying something. And you weren’t too sure if you wanted to hear it. Your gaze drops to your lap, and Satoru frowns. 

To fall in love 

To fall in love

To fall in love with you…

“Look at me,” he says softly, but you don’t. “Hey, look at me.” He reaches over the table to take your chin in between his fingers. The touch alone feels electric. Sends liquid hot lightning down the column of your spine. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, and like always, it’s suffocating. They’re so wide with hope, and so, so gentle in the way they hold you. The longer you gaze upon them, the more you convince yourself it’ll be okay if you surrender to them. 

“It’s been years since we’ve divorced,” his voice is shaky, almost strained, like he’s actively thinking how to choose his words carefully, “and when we sat down that night, I thought it was what I wanted, too, you know? And for a while, it was,” he reaches a hand across the table to rest atop your own, “but you gotta know…you gotta know–you’re it for me. There’s no one else on this Earth that I want to start over with. You’ve always been the beginning and end of my story, and I’ll be damned if I let another man start one with you.”

Your heart is beating faster than you can even process what he’s saying. The only thing you’re focused on is not passing out in the middle of this damn restaurant. But then he’s squeezing your hand, and your focus is drawn back to those piercing, pale blues that even put crystals to shame. 

“So what do you say?” he says, so softly, so tender. “Can we try again?”

Waiting for your reply, he squeezes your hand again. It’s like your soul is wandering the line between death and the living, and his touch is the tether that brings you back. In the background, the tune of the song sung at your wedding gives you a push of courage. 

I don’t even know how to kiss your lips (kiss your lips)

At a moment like this

But I’m going to learn how to do 

All the things you want me to

Yes, I’m ready

(Are you ready?) Yes, I’m ready

To fall in love

To fall in love

To fall in love right now

“Yes.”

The walk back to the car is hurried. Aided by both, years and years of built up tension, and the liquid courage currently bubbling in your systems. 

The race back to his apartment is even faster. You thank the gods silently that it’s within close proximity to where you just were. 

Once you get there, make your way past the doorman and concierge (who both give the two of you a knowing look), go up the elevator, and finally get into his loft–it’s over. Years of restraint, years of pretending, wanting–yearning, come crashing down. 

There’s barely any time to close the door before he’s pushing you against it. His lips trail down the column of your neck, then come up to kiss your jaw, until eventually, they find your lips. And when they do, it’s instantaneous–that familiar feeling, the feeling that feels almost like falling. 

Once again, for what felt like centuries, you feel again the rush of helplessness. The push and pull of the tide. It brings you down, down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor, and it’s unmerciful. 

Kissing Satoru is like being shocked with ten thousand volts of energy. Like all this time you’ve spent not kissing him, has been costing you your life, and he’s the only one who can deliver you salvation. It’s all teeth and tongue for a minute. Messy, and sticky, and nasty. A true testament to the desperation brewing in the pits of both your stomachs. 

The sensation of it all has your knees going slack, and that’s when he says–

“Jump.” 

Obeying, you do just that. Jump right into his arms, and wrap your legs around his torso like you’ve done so many times before. The way you feel now is the way you used to feel before then, too. Like you were made to fit like this. To be held in his arms like you were molded from the same clay. 

Carefully, he adjusts his grip on your body. Keeps his palms planted on the bottoms of your ass, and begins the trek to his room. He struggles a bit getting there because you haven’t stopped kissing since entering the apartment, but he figures it out after a stumble or two (which resulted in a bitten lip and you apologizing profusely through giggles). 

“The turbulence up here is crazy, don’t blame me, blame the pilot,” you jest, kissing down his neck to make up for it. 

“I’ll make sure to let him know,” he jokes back. As soon as he gets to the bed, he sets you down at the edge of the bed. You try to bring him down to your height but he stops you, wags his finger in your face playfully before using it to push you back into the bed. His fingers start to play with the fabric of your dress, and then his face takes on an indifferent expression. The same one from earlier that night when he first saw you walking down the stairs. 

“Can’t believe you were gonna wear this for him…” he trails, lifting the fabric up slowly, eyeing you while doing so, “as if this dress doesn’t mean something.” 

Of course, when Shoko chose it, its significance did make you falter–but in your defense, not once did you ever anticipate for him to see you in it. And you especially didn’t expect for him to remember it, the last time you wore it was almost a decade ago. 

“I didn’t…” you start, a smile creeping on your lips, “think you remembered?”

“‘Course I did, how could I not?” He says more sharply than intended, taking offense. He takes offense because he spent the better half of the night showing you he remembered. The little things and everything else in between. Couldn’t you see that?

“It was our 4th anniversary. Bought you this dress and fucked you in it that same night. Funny how the second time I’m seeing you in this dress, the circumstances are the same except only this time we’re divorced,” he says, crawling over your body. “Guess I gotta show you just how much I remember.” 

With that, he slips a hand under your dress, pulls your panties to the side and runs a finger down your slit. Oh-so-willingly, do you spread your legs for him. It’s almost subconscious, the way your body responds to him. And he revels in it. Lets his fingers work you, feel you, bring you to ecstasy. Then he heightens your pleasure tenfold when he kisses his way down your body, and takes a seat before you on his knees. 

Unceremoniously, he pulls your body to the edge of the bed. Takes his time slipping your panties down the length of your legs, then kisses the insides of your thighs, before finally stopping at your mound. 

Slowly, he lowers himself to your cunt, kisses your clit softly. Once, twice, three times. The pace in which he’s moving is killing you, to say the least. But you know he’s savoring the moment, making up for all the years he spent not kneeling like this between your legs. So you let him; let him caress you all over before he comes seeking the honey-sweet salvation dripping from your core. 

The second his tongue makes contact with your heat, you find yourself clamping a heavy hand over your mouth. “Fuck, Toruuuu,” you drawl, back arching off the bed. Pleased with his abilities, he smiles smugly, using this as an opportunity to push himself even deeper. Up and down, he licks at your slit, uses his fingers in tandem with his tongue to prod at that spongy spot he knows you love. 

“Tastes,” a harsh suck, “so good,” another, “better than I remember.” 

You know he’s talking, but his words fall on deaf ears. You’re so caught up in your own high, you don’t even take notice of the obscene sloshing sounds coming from your pussy, or the moans you’re making. All you can do is lay there and take it as he takes, and takes, and takes from you. 

Soon, you find your orgasm cutting through you like a knife, and you come with a strangled cry that has you biting back tears. Satoru talks you through the whole thing. He lays his head down on your thigh and continues working you with his fingers until you start to shake from the overstimulation. 

For a few, you lay and stare at the ceiling. You think you can see the Milky Way–and all the constellations that make it up. It feels like your soul is floating beyond your physical body, and you don’t come back down to Earth until a sharp, stinging sensation brings you back. Did he just?

“Did you just bite me?” you lift your head, peering down to see the evidence. In all its glory, there it was; a red ring smack-dab in the inside of your thigh with teeth imprints. Looking at Satoru, he grins. 

“Had to get you back from earlier,” he says, sitting back on his knees. You attempt to kick him with your foot, but he grabs hold of it. Pretending to be wounded, he gasps, “Is this how you treat the man who just gave you a soul-shattering orgasm?” 

You roll your eyes, but to your dismay, it only encourages him to continue. 

“Fuck, Toru,” he mimics, “oh my god, Toru. You fuck me so goo–”

“Alright, enough!” you manage to kick him this time, laughing as you bring up your hands to cover your face. “Keep carrying on like that and I won’t let you fuck me…” You’re serious in your bite, but he’s smirking. Like he knows you’re full of bullshit. 

“Yeah right. You and I both know I make you feel too good.” 

Feeling bested, you scoff, though, there’s no real weight behind it. While he begins to remove his shirt, you sit up and replace his hands. He relinquishes control and allows you to unbutton it until the item falls haphazardly to the floor. 

He’s so beautiful, you think. Still so chiseled, so perfect after all these years since you’ve last seen him like this. At his most vulnerable. The only difference now is that there are more freckles littered across his skin. Back then, he’d say they were signs of aging, and he’d hate them. 

But he’s older now. More mature. So much so that he even winks at you when you trace your fingertips over them.

“They suit you,” you whisper. 

“Yeah?”

You nod your head, “mhm.” 

Continuing your ministrations, you begin removing his belt. He holds your gaze the entire time it takes for you to unzip his pants and pull them down–and he doesn’t once shy away when you discover the wet spot on the front of his briefs. Slowly, delicately, you remove the soiled item and let it fall down to the floor with the rest of his clothes. 

Still looking at him, you take hold of his length and fist him once, twice, experimentally. A dribble of pre oozes from his slit and you bring it to your mouth. All the air in his lungs expel into the air when you lick it off with your tongue, and god, he thinks he could come from that alone. 

God, he’s missed you. Missed your touch, your lips–the way you hold him with your eyes like he’s something worth being gentle with. Nothing could ever compare to you, not even his own hand. 

As soon as you’re about to take him in your mouth, he stops you. Pushes you back down onto the bed and slots himself between your legs. “No more playing, I’m tired of playing,” he breathes, lowering himself down until half of his weight is on top of you. 

Guiding his cock to your entrance, he pushes past your folds with little resistance. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him in has his arms wobbling like jelly, but he musters enough strength somehow to stay up. You, on the other hand, are close to tears. 

The more he eases himself in, the more you feel like you’re being stretched open (despite him previously prepping you). If you were being truthful, this wasn’t a complete shock to you. You’ve known that he’s always been big, but something about tonight feels different. Or maybe it’s just been too long since you’ve had something more than just your own fingers. 

Even so, you try your best to ignore the burn of the stretch. You throw your arms around his neck and invite him deeper into you, hooking your legs around him so tightly that it renders his limbs useless. For a minute, all you can feel is the weight of him inside of you, and his chest against yours as they rise and fall asynchronously. 

“Toru,” your voice is just barely above a whisper, but enough to make the hairs on the nape of his neck stand. “Make love to me.” 

Heeding your request, he begins moving. Painfully slow, he unsheathes himself from you until only the head of his cock is inside, then pushes himself all the way back in with force. Again, and again, he repeats this motion. Pulls out, pushes in. Pulls out, pushes in, until he decides to increase his pace and set a steady rhythm. 

Every thrust into you is meticulously calculated. Sharp, and forceful, and not once does he disrupt the rhythm. He listens carefully to the sounds you make. Even listens to the way your breath hitches when he hits a spot right. Everything he’s doing is perfect–and it’s to no surprise. Deep down, you know that Satoru knows your body like the back of his hand. He’d know it if you were all old and wrinkly. He’d know it if his soul reincarnated. Hell, he’d know it blind. 

“Missed this,” he grunts, burying his head into the interstice of your neck, “missed you,” a kiss to your neck, “missed us.” 

The veracity of his words render you speechless. He’s already professed his feelings for you tonight, but it feels even more real now that you’re beneath him. To be loved by Gojo Satoru was a feeling many couldn’t say they had the consolation of knowing. Only a few in his circle could hold that position–but only one person in this world could truly ever know his love to its fullest extent. You. 

Satoru continues his mindless rambling, “I love you,” a thrust, “it’s always been you,” another, “was always going to be you.” Leaning back on his heels, he pushes your dress all the way up to reveal your breasts. Now it’s him who sits back and admires this time. As if he were reacquainting himself, he traces the planes and pastures of your chest with an eager hand. He runs it up and over each mound, squeezing and kneading the flesh experimentally. 

Then, he dips down and kisses the space between them. Sucks and licks until the skin bruises, and he has evidence to prove tonight actually happened. Eventually, he withdraws from your chest and returns his focus on easing his cock in and out of your cunt. 

“So beautiful,” he says, but it’s more to himself than anything. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, he doesn’t even think you can hear him. “Want you to cum on my cock, know you can do it, baby. Know you can,” he grunts, taking your hand and intertwining it with his own. Letting his head fall into your neck, he begins to quicken his pace. Fucks into you with everything he’s got and willing to give. 

“Toru,” you finally manage to say, “‘m so close, keep going. Do it - do it inside.” 

Do it inside. Do it inside. Do it inside. The thought is tempting, too tempting. It makes his dick twitch inside of you, and he swears if you say it again, he’ll actually do it. But he knows better than to listen to anything you say out of delirium. 

“Trust me, sweet girl,” he cradles your face, to which you lean into, “I want to - I want to so fucking badly. But we both know you’d regret it later.” 

Whining, your lips form into a pout, and the sight is so cute, he can’t help but to kiss it off of you. Compared to your kiss earlier, this one is much sweeter. Slower. More relaxed. He kisses you with the intent of making you dizzier than you already are, and it’s scary. Even so, you don’t pull away. You allow him to drink you up. Like your lips are the only source of water around, and he’s been quenched for days. 

Finally, with a few more thrusts, you reach your climax. The pressure building in the pit of your belly pops like a balloon, and everything goes white. “Toru!” you shriek, arching off the bed and trembling in his grasp. 

Using your arch as leverage, he keeps his hands underneath your back and continues to ram into you without abandon. You’re a babbling, wet mess at this point, and your cunt squeezing around him only encourages him more. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna - ‘m gonna,” he curses, balls beginning to tighten. Quickly, he unsheathes himself and fists himself the rest of the way. With an impassioned moan, he climaxes–spurting thick, white, ropes of seed all over your abdomen. Then, falls onto your limp body with a grunt, chest heaving rapidly, and slick with perspiration. 

By this time, you’ve settled down enough to form a proper sentence. “That was…”

Satoru huffs, catching his breath. “Yeah.” 

Still spent, he continues to lay atop you. And you, having nowhere else to go, let him. The two of you lay comfortably in silence like this for a long time. Just you tracing shapes into his back, and him purring into your neck. Both of you know you should be getting up, but neither of you make an effort to do so. In this moment, time is transcendent. There is no rush to move when time stands still for you. 

Soon, that silence is broken. 

“I love you,” you say, and there’s no elaboration. Not even a recant. In fact, you say it so nonchalantly, he’s not even sure it was real. You say it like you’ve never been more certain in your life, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“Really?” he queries, almost pathetically like the mere idea of you loving him is something unattainable. You look at him like he’s got two heads. 

“Yeah, you’re my best friend. I’ve always loved you,” you admit, pausing your ministrations on his back, “I just had to relearn how to love you.” He smiles at this, hums into your neck to keep from crying. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other,” he mumbles into your neck, “so where do we go from here?”

“From here we take it slow. We’ll learn together what it means to be individuals, and then from there we’ll see where it goes,” you say matter-of-factly, “no more repeating past mistakes.”

“Agreed,” he nods, “what will we tell the girls?”

That’s when your eyes widen and you sit up, forcefully pushing Satoru off of you. 

“What did I say, what’s wrong?” he queries, sitting up on the bed. He watches you rummage around the room maniacally, head on a swivel as you run out of the room and return with a purse. You pull your phone out to see a slew of missed calls and messages. 

“We forgot to call the girls!” You yell, showing him your phone screen of missed calls. Gojo jumps up to join you, one leg already sliding into his pants. 

“Shit!” 

Noticing the state of your appearance, you pinch the skin between your brows. “Satoru, I can’t wear this! You got cum all over it,” you groan, pointing to all the splotches of white. He tells you to wait a second before disappearing into his closet, then he comes back with a fist of clothes and throws it at you. 

“I can’t wear this either, they’ll wonder why I’m wearing your clothes!” 

Satoru runs to you and pull the dress off of your body, “We’ll wash it!” he screams, disappearing again out of the room, and to where you imagine, the laundry room. When he returns, he’s out of breath and panting. It’s only then do you realize how insane he looks with half his shirt buttoned, and his pants twisted around his hips. A giggle escapes your lips.

“What are you laughing at? Chop chop,” he claps, ushering you into his bathroom. 

Yeah, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this idiot.

comments + reblogs very appreciated !!!

© arachine 2023

[shy2-29]

hiii i love your works so much!! i read your heeseung sunghoon fic which was uploaded recently, and fell in love.. i have a request. Can you do something like sunghoon and reader are dating, for a while but not too long. And reader thinks sunghoon doesn't like her anymore or something, because he's very cold to her and avoids her touch/ doesn't initiate physical contact much. So she confronts him about this and they get into an arguement, and sunghoon like confesses that he doesn't touch her/ or whatever because she's a virgin/inexperienced or whatever and sunghoon's quite...kinky or rough so he thinks she'll get scared and he might hurt her if they have sex?

omg this idea is jaw dropping 😱 wrote more than I expected but here you go 🤗

Beyond Expectations | p.sh

pairing: park sunghoon x afab!reader

wc: 5.7k

synopsis: you bumped into Sunghoon not so long ago, and you guys happened to get along very well. You guys then ended up dating, spending lots of time together. A month later, he’s been acting more cold towards you, but you can’t seem to figure out why. Is it because he lost feelings for you, or is it because you’re a virgin and he’s scared he might go too rough on you?

genre: collage romance, smut, nsfw, dark romance

authors note: proudest one yet.. and dirtiest

warnings: not proof read, degrading, p in v, blowjob, virginity loss, swearing, kissing, spitting, fingering, nipple play, begging, arguing, harsh language, teasing, half of it it literally pure smut

nsfw 18+ mdni.

—

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” Sunghoon apologized, bending down to pick up your phone.

“Oh- no worries,” you said as he handed you your phone back with a small smile.

Standing in front of you was a young Korean man, slightly taller than you. His handsome features and captivating eyes held your gaze, making it difficult to look away.

Lost in the moment, you blurted out your name. "My name is y/n," you stuttered, still captivated by his mesmerizing eyes.

Sunghoon chuckled lightly at your sudden introduction and introduced himself as well. "Sunghoon,” he said softly. His smile was warm and friendly, putting you a little more at ease.

"Is this your first day of college as well?" he inquired, studying your face intently with his sharp eyes.

You nodded in agreement, your heart pounding in your chest as Sunghoon continued the conversation. "Yes, it's my first year of college too," you responded, the excitement mixing with a hint of nerves.

"Ah, we're in the same year then," he replied, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He leaned against the wall, his gaze still fixated on you, sizing you up.

"You don't look like the typical college freshman," he observed, his eyes lingering over your every feature. He seemed to be studying you intently, making you a bit self-conscious under his intense stare.

Your voice faltered slightly as you struggled to respond. "I-oh," you stammered, feeling slightly embarrassed. "I don't...?" you trailed off, searching for the right words.

"No, I mean," Sunghoon chuckled, his smirk turning into a full grin. "You look like you could pass yourself off as a third or fourth year." He raised an eyebrow, awaiting your response.

"It's a compliment," he assured, sensing your confusion. "You have a certain maturity about you, unlike most first-years who seem so... innocent." He chuckled again, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You blushed as you realized your mistake. "Oh, thank you?" you murmured, your cheeks tinted with a rosy hue.

"No need to thank me, I'm simply stating the facts," he said as his gaze traveled down your body, taking in every curve and contour.

"You must have a lot of guys chasing after you," he observed, a hint of playful flirting evident in his voice.

You forced out a laugh, your heart racing. "Haha, not really," you chuckled, a hint of self-consciousness in your voice, "I'm usually just the quiet kid in the corner..."

Sunghoon looked at you skeptically, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The quiet ones are always the most interesting ones," he said, his tone dropping to a sultry murmur. "They hide the most secrets and surprises."

You felt your cheeks growing warmer under his intense gaze, the air around you suddenly feeling thick and charged with tension. you tried to form a coherent response, but your mind was blank.

"I... I suppose that's true," you managed to stutter out, feeling a little flustered by his attention.

"Speaking of secrets and surprises," He leaned closer to you, his body almost pressing against yours now. His eyes flicked down to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze again, his voice a low whisper. "How about I take you out sometime? We can explore these secrets together."

You felt your heart skipping a beat at his proposition, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. You managed to compose yourself enough to respond, a mix of excitement and nervousness evident in your voice.

"I... Sure,” you breathed out, unable to tear your gaze away from his captivating eyes. "I'd love that."

A satisfied smirk spread across Sunghoon's face, his eyes lighting up with a spark of triumph. "Great,” he replied, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction. "I'll pick you up tomorrow night."

Your heart quickened at the speed at which he proposed a date, but you maintained a composed exterior. "Yeah, tomorrow night sounds great!" you responded, keeping your cool demeanor intact.

"Perfect." Sunghoon pushed himself off the wall, his gaze never leaving yours. He took a step back, creating a small distance between you two, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I’ll need your number and your dorm room number as well-“

"To pick you up, of course." He chuckled, watching you intently, waiting for your reaction.

You blinked, a bit thrown off by his request. Hesitating for a moment, you decided to give him the information he asked for.

"Uh, sure," you said, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You unlocked it and opened a new contact, turning it towards him. "Here's my number."

You then gave him your dorm room number, feeling a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.

He took the phone from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. He looked at the information for a moment before entering it into his phone.

“Perfect,” he said, handing back your phone with a sly smile. "I'll see you tomorrow night, y/n."

—

Over the following weeks, it became apparent that you shared numerous similarities with Sunghoon. A mutual love for skating and a shared shyness formed the foundation of your connection. You found yourself growing more fond of him, and from his actions, it seemed he also felt the same way about you.

As the days passed, your interactions with Sunghoon continued to grow more frequent. You found yourselves hanging out after classes, studying together in the library, and occasionally having lunch together in the cafeteria.

During your conversations, you discovered that you both had a passion for a certain author, shared a favorite movie series, and even had a mutual disdain for a certain professor's boring lectures. Each new similarity you discovered only strengthened the connection between you two.

You and Sunghoon were cuddled up in his dorm room, watching a movie together. Suddenly, he received a notification, prompting him to excuse himself.

"I'll be back, y/n," he said, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead before heading into the bathroom. “Don’t miss me too much!” You joke as you bring your focus back to the movie.

It was a text message from his close friend, Jay.

Jay: yo, I saw you with y/n the other day

Jay: you guys dating?

Sunghoon: yeah? For almost a month, why?

Jay: nothing much, just heard she’s a virgin

Sunghoon: oh

Sunghoon: from who?

Jay: I’m friends with her ex, Jake?

Jay: He told me about it

Sunghoon: oh ok

As Sunghoon turned off his phone. he took a moment to himself. His mind was racing, plagued by thoughts and conflicting emotions. He splashed some water on his face, trying to clear his head. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't shake off the weight of his doubts.

Leaning against the sink, he let out a deep sigh, the sound filling the small bathroom space. He knew he couldn't keep avoiding this conversation any longer.

He stood there for a few moments more, the sound of the running water from the faucet adding to the chaos in his mind. Taking a deep breath, Sunghoon pushed himself away from the sink and turned off the water. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts before opening the door and stepping back into the room.

Sunghoon's feelings of doubt and self-consciousness were due to a number of factors. Despite his outwardly confident demeanor, he harbored a deep fear of causing you harm. He had grown to care for you deeply and the thought of potentially hurting you, especially in an intimate context, filled him with anxiety. Additionally, Sunghoon was aware of your inexperience and worried that he wouldn't be able to meet your expectations, further fueling his insecurities.

—

The days turned into weeks, and as your relationship with Sunghoon continued to progress, you couldn't help but notice a subtle change in his behavior recently. He had become withdrawn, rarely initiating any physical contact and avoiding your touch whenever possible. You couldn't help but worry that he was losing interest in you, but you didn't know what caused this sudden shift in his behavior.

The coldness in his demeanor and unwillingness to touch you left you feeling confused and hurt. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself that it was just a passing phase, but deep down, you couldn't ignore the nagging suspicion that something was wrong.

One evening, after a particularly tense and silent dinner together, you decided that you couldn't keep silent any longer. As Sunghoon sat on his bed, staring blankly at his phone, you stood before him, arms crossed and a serious expression on your face.

“I don’t know man,” Sunghoon typed on his phone, not noticing you were in the room. “I might fuck her up, you know I can’t help myself.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. The weight of his thoughts and fears were starting to take their toll on him. Suddenly, he felt a presence and looked up from his phone to see you standing in front of him, arms crossed and a stern look on your face.

He flinched, startled by your sudden appearance. For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes darting awkwardly to the floor before meeting your gaze.

“Uh, hey,” he muttered, his voice faltering slightly.

Your gaze didn't waver as you looked at him, trying to read his expression. You noticed the flicker of unease in his eyes and the way he shifted uncomfortably under your stare. A mix of concern and frustration bubbled within you.

"Why are you so distantly recently?" you said finally, your voice firm and unwavering. “If you want to break up, you couldn’t just told me…”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened at your words, and he quickly sat up straight. "What?! No, no, it's not that at all," he protested, his voice tinged with anxiety. "Why would you think that?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, feeling a mix of anger and confusion. "Then what is it?" you snapped, your patience wearing thin. "You have been acting so distant lately, avoiding me, barely touching me…"

His face fell, the realization of his own actions sinking in. He fidgeted with his fingers, unable to meet your gaze. "I…I just…,” he mumbled, struggling to find the right words.

"Just tell me the truth," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "Are you losing interest in me? Is that it?"

He shook his head vigorously. "No, of course not," he insisted, his eyes pleading with you to understand. "I could never lose interest in you, y/n. That's not it at all."

You huffed, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. "Who were you texting on your phone?" you pressed, trying to get to the bottom of his recent behavior. “Is it another girl?”

"No, no, it's not anything like that!" Sunghoon hurried to explain, trying to assure you. "I was just talking to Jay about something, I swear."

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism written on your face. "If that's true, then show me your phone," you demanded. "Let me see your conversation with Jay."

He froze, his eyes widening in surprise and mild panic. "What? You don’t trust me?" he protested weakly.

You rolled your eyes, growing increasingly annoyed with his defensiveness. "It's not about trust. It's about transparency and honesty," you retorted. "If you have nothing to hide, then there's no reason not to show me your phone."

Sunghoon let out a sigh, realizing he was in a tight spot. He knew he couldn't argue with you any further without raising even more suspicion. Reluctantly, he unlocked his phone and handed it over to you.

You scrolled through his phone, noticing a pattern in his conversations with Jay. One message, in particular, caught your eye: "Is this why?" you asked, confronting him with the text on Jay telling him you were a virgin. "Is this why you're avoiding me?"

Sunghoon's face turned crimson as you confronted him with the text message. He stumbled over his words, trying to find an explanation. "I… I didn't mean for you to see that…" he muttered, his voice tinged with shame and embarrassment.

"Answer the question, Sunghoon," you said, your voice firm. "Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

He hesitated for a moment, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yes," he admitted in a soft voice. "I didn't… I didn't want to scare you."

Frustration and confusion crept into your voice as you retorted, "Scared me? What's so frightening about it? Tell me, Sunghoon!"

He let out a weary sigh, his body drooping even further. "It's… it's just that I'm scared I might be too rough, or that I'll hurt you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And the thought of that scares me more than anything."

Anger simmered beneath the surface as you resisted the urge to lash out physically. Instead, you rolled your eyes and asserted, "I'm not some delicate flower, Sunghoon. Try me."

His eyes widened at your challenge. "Y-You don't understand," he protested, his voice quivering with a mix of anxiety and desperation. "I have... certain... tendencies, desires maybe... and if I lose control, I could really hurt you."

You let out a scoff, the frustration reaching its boiling point. "And you think I can't handle that?" you retorted. "Do you really think I'm so fragile that I can't take whatever you have to offer?"

He looked away, a mix of guilt and insecurity etched on his face. "No, it’s not that I don’t think you can’t handle it," he mumbled, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "It's more like...I don't trust myself."

You took a step closer to him, your voice filled with determination. "Well, maybe it's time you start trusting me," you said firmly. "Trust me to know my own limits, trust me to tell you if things go too far. Just give me a chance, Sunghoon."

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face for any hint of doubt or uncertainty. Slowly, he nodded, letting out a shaky sigh. "Okay," he said softly. "I'll... I'll try."

You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the fear of being a disappointment lingering. You reached out, gently touching his cheek. "I trust you, Sunghoon," you reassured him, your voice filled with sincerity. "No matter how rough you are with me. I have faith in you."

His breaths came in staggered gasps as he placed a trembling hand over yours, holding it against his face. He closed his eyes, seeming to struggle with overwhelming emotions. "Okay," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "...okay."

You took a step closer to Sunghoon, closing the distance between you. You tilted your head up to look into his eyes, your voice softer now. "Sunghoon," you said, your gaze fixed onto his face. "Please... please kiss me."

His eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and desire in his gaze. He hesitantly lifted a hand, cupping your face in his trembling palm. "Are you...are you sure?" he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

You nodded, assuring him with a gentle smile. "I'm sure," you whispered. "Just kiss me, Sunghoon."

A shudder ran through his body, his breath hitching in his throat at your words. Without a second thought, he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a rough and desperate kiss.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against his body. The kiss was frenzied and intense, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that took your breath away.

As the kiss deepened, a primal hunger seemed to awaken within him. His hands began to wander, roaming over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

His tongue sought out yours, and the kiss grew more intense and demanding, leaving you panting for breath.

He pushed you back against the wall, trapping you between his body and the hard surface. You could feel his cock hardening through his pants. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive skin.

Teeth nipped at your pulse point, causing a gasp to escape your lips. His hands continued to wander, skimming over your sides and hips, his touch rough but still incredibly gentle.

He pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I want you, y/n. So much. But I'm scared... I'm scared to lose control and hurt you."

His voice was rough with emotion, torn between a need for you and a deep-seated fear of causing you pain. Your heart ached for him, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with unwavering certainty.

"You won't hurt me," you whispered, your voice firm and steady. "I trust you, Sunghoon. I trust you with my body, with my heart. Just let go, let yourself be with me."

A shudder ran through his body at your words, his eyes darkening with an intense mix of desire and trepidation.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I… I’ll try," he mumbled, his voice choked with emotion. "I’ll try to control myself. For you."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in another fierce yet tender kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a hint of newfound caution but still imbued with a fierce possessiveness. His touch was rougher now, less restrained, but you could sense he was holding back, still afraid to lose control completely.

With a mixture of urgency and tenderness, Sunghoon's hands moved to the hem of your top, slowly inching it up and over your head.

The cool air of the room hit your skin, sending a shiver through your body. He tossed the fabric aside, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin, taking in every dip and curve.

His hands skimmed over your shoulders, down your arms, as if exploring you, mapping out your body with his touch. He paused for a moment, as if taking a breath, before his hands moved to the button of your jeans.

Slowly, almost torturously, he unbuttoned them, the sound echoing through the room. He took his time, drawing out the moment, his eyes never leaving your face, watching for any signs of discomfort or hesitation.

He lowered the zipper, then ran his hands over your hips and thighs, his touch light and reverent. “You’re so fucking beautiful y/n.”

A shiver ran down your spine as you were exposed to this previously unbeknownst side of him. Unable to contain yourself, you pleaded, "Please, Sunghoon..." Your voice dripped with a mix of desire and unintentional desperation as your hips unintentionally bucked upwards.

A low growl escaped his throat as he felt your hips move against him. His eyes darkened with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, his hands continuing their exploration.

He slipped the jeans down your legs, his touch still gentle despite the rough edge to his voice. "I want to savor this... savor you."

His hands roamed over the newly exposed flesh of your thighs, his touch feather-light, yet leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

You could feel the heat of his breath on your skin as he leaned in, his lips tracing a path along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Each kiss, a promise and a question, a wordless communication of his desire to be more than he has allowed himself to be this far.

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, as his lips continued their exploration. You could see the raw desire, the primal need, burning in his gaze. He moved higher, his lips grazing that sensitive spot where your leg met your hip. His teeth nipped at the tender skin there, then soothed the sting with a flick of his tongue.

Then, he pulled back, his eyes raking over your form, taking in every inch. He was still holding back, still scared to let the animalistic need inside of him take control.

But you could see a shift in his demeanor, a growing tension in his shoulders. He was fighting a battle within himself, and the need to lose control was winning.

He took a step back, his chest heaving with the effort to stay in control. His hands clenched, as if trying to stop them from reaching out to you. "You've got to... you need to stop me now," he said, his voice ragged. “I... I can’t... I won’t be able to stop myself if you don’t stop me now, y/n…”

The raw vulnerability in his words sent a pang through you. You could see the struggle etched on his face, the conflict between his desire and his fear. You took a step towards him, your voice gentle but firm. "No," you said, your eyes locked with his. "I won't stop you. I wanna feel you, Sunghoon."

His eyes widened slightly, the last thread of his restraint snapping. In an instant, he closed the distance between you, his hands grabbing your hips, pulling you against him. His lips crashed into yours, his tongue demanding admission.

You felt this hot, uncomfortable sensation between your legs, your body telling you to grind on his clothed leg, letting out a quiet whimper as you do so.

Sunghoon must've felt your body's reaction because he freezes for a moment, his eyes darkening almost immediately. His grip on your hips tightens as he growls lowly, a primal sound that comes from the back of his throat.

He pulls his leg back slightly, denying you the friction you're seeking. "You little slut," he murmurs between kisses. "You like testing my self control, don't you?"

You let out a frustrated whimper, your body thrumming with need. “Please, Sunghoon... I need you,” you pant against his lips. “Stop teasing me and just give me what I need.”

His grip on you loosens momentarily, surprise flashing across his face for a brief moment. Your words, your obvious need for him, seem to awaken something in him that he was fighting so hard to contain.

A low growl rumbles from his chest as he pushes you back against the wall, trapping you with his body.

“J-just do something..” you whined, “I feel something between my legs and I don’t know what it is..”

He chuckles darkly, his hands roaming over your body. "Do something, huh? Don't mind if I do," he murmurs in response. One hand moves to your hip, while the other slides down between your thighs. His fingers tease over the cloth of your underwear, and you can feel the heat and dampness there.

You moan, a shudder running through your body as his fingers touch you. Your hips buck towards his hand, seeking more of his touch. "Please, Sunghoon... I need more," you breathe out, your voice desperate and pleading. “Want your cock..”

His breath hitches at your words, a raw hunger flaring in his eyes. He presses his body against yours, trapping you against the wall.

His hands move back to your hips, his grip bruising in their intensity. “Such a dirty mouth, princess,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “Cock-hungry for me, are you? I might not be able to fit without prep..”

“I don’t care,” you gasp out. “Just do it. I need you. Now.” Your head falls back against the wall, your eyes closed as you surrender to the wave of desire coursing through you. The words tumbling out of your lips, unrestrained and wanton, only seem to fuel his own need.

He lets out a guttural moan, his restraint hanging by a thread. "You're such a good girl," he growls, his hands roaming over your body, gripping and caressing. His lips find the sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet, his teeth nipping at your skin. "Want me to fill you up?”

He continues to kiss and bite at your neck, his lips moving down to your collarbone, then to your chest. His hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of your body.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "How fucking bad I wanted to shove my cock into your tight pussy."

He reluctantly pulls back from you, his hands fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. His movements are slightly jerky, desperate. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, pushing them down his legs, kicking them off impatiently.

His shirt is next to go, tugged off over his head in one swift motion. He stands before you, bare except for a pair of black boxers that do little to hide his arousal.

You take him in, your gaze roaming over his body, taking in every curve and contour. He's beautiful, lean and muscular, every inch of him taut and defined. His chest heaves with laboured breaths, his eyes fixated on you.

Your own body feels exposed, vulnerable, but also powerful in a way. You're the only one who's ever had this effect on him, and it's a heady feeling.

Your eyes widen at the sight before you. He was right, how was he going to fit? You unintentionally reach out and grab his member, stroking it slowly.

His breath hitches, a low moan escaping his lips. His hands clench into fists at his sides, as if he's trying to hold back. "Y/n... " he gasps, his voice ragged. "You gotta stop that... I might cum like this..”

Your hand stills, your eyes widening in surprise. You didn't expect your touch to have such an effect on him. "Sorry," you murmur apologetically. "I just... I wanted to feel you."

He lets out a strained laugh, his eyes dark and intense. "Don't say sorry," he murmurs, stepping closer to you again. "I just... I don't want to scare you..”

“I’m not scared.” You assure him, your voice slightly steadier. “I trust you, Hoon.”

His chest heaves, the use of his nickname seemingly affecting him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, then steps closer so that his body is flush against yours.

His hands come up to cup your face, his thumbs tracing gentle circles over your cheeks. "Alright," he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. "But if I get too rough, you have to tell me, okay?"

You nod your head slowly before gripping onto his bare thighs, lowering your mouth on top of tip smudged in pre-cum.

He lets out a hiss of pleasure as your mouth touches him. His hands move to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. “Ah..fuck...” he moaned, his hips jerking involuntarily. “Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, so good for a virgin..”

His grip on your hair tightens, holding you in place, as he starts to slowly thrust into your mouth. "Take it all, princess... let me fill your mouth with my hot cum. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You feel a thrill at his words, a mixture of shame and desire coursing through you. Somehow, being called a ‘princess’ and being talked to this shamelessly makes you feel both incredibly embarrassed and incredibly turned on.

Despite his rough handling, you can’t help but feel a sense of power, knowing that you’re the one making him feel like this.

It’s a new sensation to you, this sense of power. But it’s addictive. You want more, you want to see how else you can unravel him, how else you can make him lose control.

You felt the sudden urge to bring your hands up to his balls, massage them as you took him deeper, gagging in the process of it.

He groans, a low and guttural sound that reverberates through his chest. His hands tighten in your hair, his hips jerking forward slightly. "Oh..fuck.." he hisses, his eyes fluttering shut. "That feels so good y/n- keep going-“

Then, suddenly, he pulls back, his eyes snapping open. "Wait," he says, his voice strained. "Stop for a second."

His actions caused you to flinch a bit, licking the access pre-cum off your lips. “D-did I do something wrong..?”

He shakes his head, his chest heaving. "No, no, you're doing so good, princess," he assures you, his eyes raking over your form. "I wanna cum inside your pussy, wanna ruin you."

You let out a whimper at his words, nodding your head Sunghoon climbed over you, taking a nipple in his mouth. “A-ahh! Sunghoon-“ you moan, arching your back to this new found sensation.

He chuckles at your reaction, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. His hands roam over your body, his touch rough and demanding, and yet also somehow gentle at the same time. "Like that, princess?“ he asks, his voice a low rumble. “Love the way you moan my name.”

He releases your nipple with a pop, his lips moving up your body to your neck. He peppers kisses and bites along the sensitive skin, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “God you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with praise. “So perfect for me, y/nnie.”

Then, his lips are at your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Wanna make you mine,” he whispers, his voice rough with need. “Wanna mark you, make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

His fingers trail down your body, his touch leaving tingles in its wake. He reaches your core, his fingertips gently circling the sensitive bud, making you gasp. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. “So wet already?”

“Please Sunghoon..” you beg, too cock hungry to even think straight. “Please..”

He chuckles, his eyes darkening with desire. “Impatient, are we?“ he teases, his fingers continuing their maddening pace. He then proceeded to shove a finger inside your hole in a quick fashion.

You arch your back, a low moan escaping your lips at the intrusion. "Sunghoon," you gasp out, "please... more...feel so good!”

He grins at your words, a wolfish smile curving his lips. “More, huh?” He asks, slipping another finger inside you. “You greedy slut, so cock hungry you can’t even speak properly?” He chuckled, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean, pulling them out with a pop.

“You taste so good y/n,” he says before positioning his tip inside your virgin pussy, slamming right in. “I- I told you I won’t be able to control myself..” he groaned, looking down at your pleasured expression.

His eyes are hazy with lust and he looks completely wrecked, like he’s about to lose all control. He’s panting heavily, and his jaw is clenched tight. There’s an intensity in his gaze that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, lowering his face down, locking his lips with yours to quiet down your moans. “Do you want people to hear us? Want them to know how much of a needy slut you are?”

His voice is rough, and his words are filthy, but there’s something about them that’s so damn sexy. He’s never talked to you like this before, like you’re something he wants to devour. And it’s making you feel things you’ve never felt before.

Your eyes rolled back at his words as you proceeded to bring your hand to his hair, pulling onto it tightly, indicating that you’re close.

Sunghoon grunted, his eyes fluttering as you pulled on his hair. "Fuck," he groaned, the words guttural from his lips. "You like it when I talk dirty to you, huh? You like it when I pound into you relentlessly? Want me to fill you up with my cum?”

His pace is rough, almost savage, and it’s doing things to you that you can’t begin to describe. You’re clawing at his back, your breaths coming out in short, sharp gasps. “H-Hoon I’ll-” you stammer out, your voice catching.

“You’re gonna what?” he asks, his lips curving into a lopsided smile. “You’re gonna cum?” he mocks, his tone cocky and seductive.

“Open your mouth.”

“what?”

“I said open your mouth. Open it wide.”

You're slightly flustered, but you don't protest. You open your mouth, your tongue peeking out. Sunghoon swears under his breath at the sight.

“God... “ he murmurs, his eyes darkening even more. “You’re so perfect, y/n. So perfect for me.”

“I-I’m-” you start to say, but he cuts you off, bringing his mouth down and spits into your mouth. He laughed at your confused reaction as you swallow it anyways.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice rough and raspy. “You like swallowing my spit, princess?”

His words are filthy, but they spark something in you. You didn’t know that words could have such an effect on you, but when they came from sunghoon, when they were spoken so low and huskily, they seemed to set your core on fire.

You find yourself responding to his words, nodding eagerly. “Yes,” you gasp out, the word coming out needy and pleading. “Yes, I like it…like it all…”

Suddenly, you felt your climax close, tugging onto his hair tightly. “Fuck.. Hoon! I’m cumming!”

His eyes darkened at your words. "That's it," he groans, fastening his thrusts, bringing a finger down to rub your clit. “Going to fill you up, fill this is virgin pussy up-“

Finally, Sunghoon thrusts himself into you one last time as you felt his cum gush into you, throwing your head back as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Ngh- Sunghoon!” You whimpered, letting out a pornographic moan.

He groaned, collapsing onto you, his body heavy and hot. His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. “You alright, princess?” He asked, his voice gruff.

You nod, a little breathless. "Y-yeah," you respond, your voice coming out in a small huff. "That was... That was incredible, Hoon. I told you I could handle it..”

He lets out a low chuckle, the corner of his lips curving up in a satisfied smile. "Yeah, you did good," he says, nuzzling his face into your neck. "You were perfect, princess."

yippie! | masterlist

[rafeandonlyrafe]

mexico

words: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, soft!rafe, established relationship, overbearing/annoying parents, proposal, marriage talk

“and why would i not want to come?” rafe questions, a soft smile on his face as he looks over to you.

“my family can be… a lot sometimes. i wouldn't blame you if you couldn't be around them for a whole two weeks.” you explain softly.

“but then i would have to be away from you for two whole weeks.” rafe hums. “i can put up with them if it means being with you.”

“stop it.” you whine out. “you're gonna make me all blushy.”

“i love how easily i get you all flustered.” rafe laughs, pulling you onto his lap.

you've purposely only let rafe around your parents in small doses. they can be overwhelming, intense, and if they get on your nerves, they'll certainly get on rafes.

rafe holds you closer to his chest, his mouth finding yours. you allow him to kiss you for a minute before you pull away, much to rafes dismay as he frowns.

“okay, so to prepare you for them-”

“kiss first.” rafe interrupts. “prepare later.”

you can't argue with that logic.

--

“rafe, did you remember your socks and underwear?”

“mom!” you gasp. “he's a grown man, oh my god. you don't need to announce that in a crowded airport.” you hiss out the last part, a warning against any of her antics, not that it does anything to dull her.

“oh, relax sweetie.” she laughs. “i just don't want your boyfriend to have to get to mexico only to have to buy a pack of undies.”

“oh my god.” you grab rafe, pulling him a bit farther away from your parents, hopefully meaning they won't talk to either of you as much. “im so sorry about them.”

“hey, it's fine.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head. “just think about mexico. we're going to get there and lay out on the beach just the two of us. ill take you shopping and we'll spend all our money on tourist traps.”

“yeah, when my dad isn't forcing us to go to museums or cultural sites and my mom isn't snapping 1,000 pictures of us.” you look over at your parents only to realize your mom is taking a picture of you at this very moment.

your groan is drowned out by rafes laughter.

--

“mama, we are going out to the beach!” you call.

“oh, goodness!” she quickly rushes into the living room, the back patio opening up right onto the sand.

“be back in time for dinner, dears!” she says, grabbing a bottle of sunscreen and adding it to your bag.

“we'll be just outside, mom.” you say, allowing her to kiss both your cheeks. despite finding your parents overwhelming at times, you love them and know they love you too.

“rafe, she burns easily. make sure you reapply for her.” your mom says, pressing a kiss to his cheek as well.

“yes ma'am.” rafe nods.

you make your way outside before she can say anything else, walking until you're closer to shore.

“let me know when you need more sunscreen.” rafe smirks at you as you both lay out towels. “im always down to get my hands on your body.” 

“perv.” you laugh, making rafe growl and reach over to tickle your sides, ending up lying on the same towel in a heap.

--

your hand in rafes is the biggest solace as your dad continues on about the history of the town, deigning himself an honorary tour guide.

“sorry about this.” you squeeze rafes hand. it was interesting at first, but now that you're on the third hour of explanation about the architecture of one building or how the streets were made, it's becoming boring and manatonis.

“no problem.” rafe hums. “seriously you gotta stop apologizing, baby. your parents aren't that bad, plus, they made you, so i kinda have to thank them for that.”

“oh you're so sweet.” you whine, leaning in to turn your voice into a whisper. “you are absolutely getting laid tonight.”

“and you are absolutely getting treated to a beautiful and private dinner. i already talked to your mom about it. she called me a little romantic.” rafe smirks.

--

“you are a little romantic.” you giggle, reaching across the table to hold rafes hand, the flame of the candle flickering in between the two of you, appetizers and entrees finished, waiting for a dessert to split to be brought out to you.

“have to tell your mom she was right.” 

“hopefully they're asleep when we get back.” you can't help the smirk that stretches over your cheeks.

“oh, you are desperate for it, huh?” rafe laughs, sitting back as the waiter brings you out a chocolate cake dripping in fudge.

“it's been like four whole days, of course im desperate.”

--

“oh fuck.” you whisper, head tilted back against the sheets, rafe between your legs, thrusting mercilessly inside of you.

“god, you're so warm.” rafe hums out, burying his cock inside of you repeatedly.

“to-touch me.” you whine out, rafe instantly knowing what you're really asking for. “i need it.”

rafe drops his hand to your clit, rubbing it as he feels you pulsing around him as your high builds.

“nice and tight for me baby. and so wet.” rafe hums out, struggling to keep his voice low since your parents are asleep not far away.

“gonna cum- rafe!” you let out a gasp. “gonna cum, please.”

rafe moves as fast as his tired legs will allow, wishing he wasn't so worn out from the very long walk around the city with your father.

he makes up for his lack of pace with his thumb on your clit, rubbing and flicking over your bud until your high breaks.

your back arches off the bed with a moan as you cum probably a little too loud, rafe releasing inside of you only a moment later with a moan of his own.

--

“some mama and me time would be nice.” you smile, looking at the spa package your mom laid out in front of you.

“mhm. and your dad has something planned for him and rafe.” she says, looking over to your boyfriend.

“are you okay with that?” you ask, looking over at him as he eats his bacon.

“sure.” he nods. “would be nice to get to know him. one on one, ya know.”

--

“where are we going?” rafe questions, looking out the taxi window as it takes him further into the city.

“a shop.” your father just hums out, leaving it at that.

“okay.” rafe allows the silence to settle until they reach the store. he understands exactly why he's been brought here as he sees the storefront, advertising glittering bracelets and diamond rings.

“sir, i should let you know-” rafe clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to pull out the velvet box. “i already have what i think you brought me here to influence me to buy.”

your father's eyebrows raise in surprise as rafe continues.

“i haven't asked your permission yet, but i know i want to marry your daughter. i love her very much.”

“we would be honored to have you become part of our family, son.” your dad says, clearing his throat as tears well in his eyes.

--

“last night.” you hum, looking out onto the the water, the moonlight glittering over the waves.

“actually-” rafe smiles, tucking you further into his side. “we are extending our trip by a week. your parents are going home, though.”

“really?” your eyes widen.

“they insisted, actually.” he chuckles. “on one condition.”

“what's the condition?” you question as rafe sinks to his knees pulling out a box.

“that you say yes.”

[erwinsvow]

you'd never really put this much effort in at other houses. while you're scrubbing the countertops to remove every last bit of evidence that someone—anyone—had made a mess there, you think about the other houses you used to babysit for.

used to, since there was no need to babysit anymore. mister cameron, who will always remain mister cameron—no matter how much he reminds you to call him rafe—actually pays you double what your other families did. he's a busy guy. you know this for a fact—single dad and some big business guy that people in town used to talk about all the time when you used to listen—so he'd have last minute emergencies and random business calls all the time.

his exact words had been something along the lines of "don't wanna share you with anyone else," but even thinking about that encounter makes your face burn with so much intensity that you think you're going to collapse. that's not what he meant, obviously, he was trying to tell you in nicer words that it was annoying when you replied to his texts explaining how another family had booked you already for that night. so when he upped your rate and said that he'd even pay to say no to others, just in case, you would have been really stupid to say no.

you don't hear much about him anymore, when you're out and about. you spend so much time at the cameron house that your own little apartment seems like nothing more than a bed and a place to get ready before leaving. you practically eat three meals a day with the baby, so even your grocery shopping is in that part of town—all organic, expensive places where you talk to the baby and try to get her opinion on which vegetable puree she'd like to try this week.

it's kind of like playing pretend. no, it's really like playing pretend. you used to dress in the normal, comfortable clothes that were sufficient for babysitting every other family—overalls and sneakers—but now you don't fit in unless you're in a pretty dress and nice sandals. you stay in one outfit from when you show up before mister cameron leaves to when you drive home at the end of the night.

that's the other thing—your car. you've made it work with the same one since you could first drive. it's a little rusty, a little dinged up, but safe as can be. it's nothing fancy but it got you around. but now you do other things for rafe that you never did for other families—grocery shopping and errands and the occasional doctor's appointment if rafe really, really can't make it. you don't mind at all—it's fun to play pretend and you love her like she's your own, but mister cameron tries to make it to every appointment himself, because he really cares about his daughter. it's admirable because you don't see it in every single household.

you hadn't thought there was anything wrong with your car until one day you couldn't get the air conditioning to work, and the back window got jammed and the baby looked so uncomfortable that you had to skip out on whatever you were supposed to do that day. when mister cameron came home that night you apologized so much that you started crying—because really, you never thought there was something wrong with your car and you didn't want to make the baby drive in the heat, just in case. you think he'll be mad, there's no groceries and his suit is still at the cleaner's, and the lotion that you use every night after bathtime has ran out and there'll be none for tomorrow—but he's not.

he's not mad at all. he seems... tired. he seems worried. the first thing he asks that night is if you and the baby are okay. when you nod, afraid that this is the calm before the storm, he sighs.

"good. that's all i care about," and the way he says it—you believe him right away. maybe that's the night your little crush on mister cameron started forming. it'd always been there in the background, you'd be an idiot of massive proportions to deny it. but it felt different somehow, watching him roll up his sleeves and pulling out whatever ingredients there were left over to make dinner with, something that you normally tried to have done every night for him, while telling you to take a seat.

that night he asks about your car—how old is it, when'd you get it, how many miles. do you like the model? would you want bigger, smaller, a different color? it's just conversation—he probably likes cars with the way there's a really nice in the garage under a sheet and a nice but safer one that he takes to work everyday.

(while he's cooking pasta and cutting vegetables, you try to get up and help, but he meets your eyes and shakes his head. wordlessly, you obey and sit back down.)

that's the first night things felt different. you drove home a little giddy, later than normal, stomach full and heart a little too happy that you found it in yourself to finally have a real, nice conversation with mister cameron. you're as shy as they come but your interactions with him are limited—before work, a phone call at lunch (though recently, his first question hasn't been about the baby... it's been how are my girls?), and after work before you leave.

it feels good to know that you're doing something right, that you're good at this even on your bad days. you make a point to leave your place extra early that week, stopping at the pharmacy and picking up the lotion so it's one less thing to worry about. your window still won't roll down and you'll have to figure out how to get the groceries delivered, crossing your fingers that it doesn't cost that much more.

you show up a couple minutes early and go inside to sort out the stuff for the baby before she wakes, when you find mister cameron in the nursery.

"good morning," you say quietly, though it comes out a little above a whisper. she's still sleeping, even though you haven't glanced in the crib, you know her schedule like the back of your hand.

"hey, kid," he says, and your heart starts to thud a little faster. mister cameron's nicknames for you don't make an appearance everyday but for some reason, it has today. he hovers over the crib, watching the baby's chest rise and fall with each breath. you go over to join him, placing the lotion on the dresser. he notices the bottle and turns back to you. "you didn't have to do that."

"she needs it," you reply quietly. "it's the only one she likes. and i was up early anyways."

"thank you." it comes out with such sincerity that you're a little taken aback.

"of course, mister cameron. it's nothing," you smile up at him. he glances back at you, smiling and then turning to his daughter again. "i'm gonna go start on her breakfast."

you make your way to the door when he says your name.

"there's keys on the kitchen counter, and the car's in the garage. i'd like it if you started using that car instead."

and really—how are you supposed to respond to that? you stammer out an 'of course, mister cameron' and go downstairs, crossing your fingers that he made a mistake, or that he wants you to drive his car until you fix yours and he'll take the nice one tucked away in the garage.

but when you make it to the counter, and then head to the garage, your eyes nearly fall out of your head. a brand new pair of car keys, to match the brand new car in the garage. your arguments fall on deaf ears—this is way too much for anyone. yes, you're pretty much throwing money away by still paying rent and the cost of getting your car fixed could probably be enough to start paying for a better one, but this is too much. way too much. it's not normal. right?

but you have no one to ask. the baby's not old enough for playdates, and the girls who replaced you at your old houses are pretty much all high school seniors. on mister cameron's side of town, there's only nannies and au pairs, and they'd probably think you're crazy for turning down such a nice gesture.

and it is a nice gesture. mister cameron listens to every word you say, even when you're not paying attention to your own sentence. the car is exactly how you described—the color you wanted, the size you said would be nice one day incase there's ever a playdate or another baby or whatever the case may be. it's shiny and brand-new and completely undeserving of you. but he doesn't listen.

somewhere along the next month, you realize you could get really used to this. mister cameron does have a point—you're taking care of his daughter every day, so it only makes sense to make sure she's as safe as can be. you make a mental note that if you ever—for whatever idiotic reason—choose to leave this perfect job, you'll make sure he gets the car back.

there comes a point where the relationship... makes its way to the next level. at the end of every week, you have to settle the bills. co-pays at appointments, grocery receipts, the invoice from the gardener that didn't go through so you had given him your own cash so mister cameron wouldn't have to deal with it from work. it adds up, so once the baby is asleep on saturday night, the two of you eat dinner and go through everything.

but this time, he hands you a card instead. a shiny black credit card that spells out his name on the back.

"makes it a bit easier, right? just use this instead. we won't have to settle every week anymore."

"right," you agree, your smile fading quickly. you try to put on a front, a false expression so he doesn't notice your disappointment. saturday nights with mister cameron—him with his beer and you with a glass of wine—once the baby is asleep, sorting out bills and making conversation that almost felt like you belonged here, had unknowingly become your favorite part of the week. sometimes it would go until midnight, talking about things that were neither here nor there.

it's how you learned why he's a single dad, what he does for work, how he feels about his job and how much time it takes away from his daughter. it's why you started sending him photo and video updates everyday so he wouldn't feel like he's missing out on as much, it's why you make sure to craft the baby's bedtime routine around him coming home, so they have their time together.

"somethin' wrong?" he asks, after taking another sip of beer. you're snapped out of your thoughts, focusing instead of how rafe looks today. tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, fingers curled around the beer bottle.

you don't know how any woman on earth could have walked away from this.

"n-nothing. no. thank you, mister cameron, this is great. i'll make sure-"

"it's rafe from now on—remember, kid?"

"yes. sorry, i-"

you couldn't get out of there fast enough that night. it's almost a subtle reminder from the universe—you're not part of that family. you're the nanny who got too attached, who pretended that she fit in too much to a family that's not hers.

you still wear your nicer clothes, you still drive around his nice car. but you try to remind yourself every now and then that this isn't your real life.

the next day, it's like the universe has decided that it's mad at you for coming to this conclusion.

pouring rain the second you get into the car. your raincoat and umbrella and a sensible pair of shoes remain inside your apartment, and if you sit in idle any longer, you're going to be late to mister cameron's. he'll want to leave early since it's raining, so he's probably expecting you any minute.

the roads are a mess—it's monsooning for no reason and people forget how to drive. you honk no less than three times at idiots on the road before getting scared that someone will road-rage you. when you pull into the garage—because yes, mister cameron insists that you park inside and that he can park outside— you're frazzled and sweating and your day hasn't even started yet.

rafe's almost ready to leave, which is another damper on an already bad morning—if he has time, the two of you eat breakfast together. you tell him to drive safe and apologize for being late when he rushes past you, leaning in to kiss your cheek and telling you that he might he home late today, and to have a good day. you don't realize what's happened until he's gone, the door closing behind him.

you stand in the foyer with your mouth open until you hear the baby monitor. from that point on—it's one thing after another. the baby is fussy today, which is the most unusual part of the day. she's never like this, and you conclude that she must be getting sick or something. it's just as well, because there's no reason to go out or to take her out in this weather. she cries, and you try to help, even cave and put on some episodes of little bear to see if something would distract her. but the poor thing just doesn't feel good, and has no way to tell you how.

the hours fly by, and your head even hurts a little from the crying and the overthinking about the kiss from this morning. in all the rush, you eat about two bites of lunch before the baby needs something else.

and then at the end of the day, right around when rafe should be coming home, he doesn't.

you feed the baby and rock her to sleep. she fusses ten minutes later, and spits up all over you and your hair, and then knocks out. you even spend twenty minutes hovering over the monitor, making sure she's okay while drying your hair. rafe's still not home, so you get dinner ready and warmed for him, eating yours alone in the silence. and as if you could handle another thing, you spill sauce all over your dress while trying to put away the leftovers.

you were going to wait until you were back home, safe in your tiny apartment to cry and shower and scrub your skin raw from the day you've had, but it can't wait any longer. you take the monitor into the bathroom with you at full volume, and decide to shower in the bathroom closest to the baby's room just to be safe.

it's not until you're naked, wrapped in a soft towel and waiting for the water to get scalding hot, racking your brain for the location of the extra clothes you had once brought here that you realize the shower closest to the baby's room is the shower in rafe's bedroom.

you haven't been in here before—looking around at the expensive cologne on the counter and the dark blue towels and the hamper full of yesterday's dress shirt. it's not a good idea to be in here, but you need to shower and you can't wait another minute. for all you know, mister cameron could come home in another two hours. your dress is spinning in the washer—and your plan is set. throw it in the dryer, find something to wear for the next fifty minutes, and leave as soon as he's home even though you can hear the raindrops on the roof and the thunder outside.

the shower is what you have been needing all day. you wish you had your body wash and shampoo, but his aren't too bad. you inhale deeply, realizing you're submerging yourself in his scent. you could stay in there forever, but you don't—he's gonna be home any minute or the baby could start crying, and you need to go home.

but he smells so good. you've noticed it before, it just feels amplified now. the towel you wrap yourself in is his, meaning he's dried himself with it before. all the clothes smell like his cologne, and the house is a little cold and your clothes are still washing, and though it's probably the worst idea you've ever had, when you get out of the shower, you head to his dresser and pull out the first clean t-shirt you can find.

it's big on you, you knew it would be. it's soft and warm and smells undeniably like mister cameron. you're completely clueless, exhausted because the baby barely napped and you barely got any sleep yourself, and it's way past your own bedtime right now. he might not even come home, you think, with how the storm sounds. you check your phone but there's no messages, just a flood warning.

yesterday's socks and underwear are still spinning in the machine—how long does this thing take? what setting had you put it on?—and you begrudgingly leave rafe's warm bedroom with the baby monitor in one hand, and his navy blue towel in the other, drying your hair. you turn on the television, watching whatever's on while you pat your strands dry, bending over to wrap your hair into the towel so you can sit for a couple minutes, when you hear the door open.

you snap back up, looking at rafe's face stare back at you—he's drenched, hair wet and suit dripping, wiping his forehead with his hand when he looks you up and down. oh god, you don't even know what he just saw, you were bent over and-

"is that my shirt?"

[clesired]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 | 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “can i request a fred weasley x slytherin!reader? with her being draco’s older sister?” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! your brother and boyfriend’s twin end up in a brawl, but fred considers himself the real winner.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! light!angst ( reader and draco argue ), fluff, slytherin malfoy fem!reader, established relationship, second person pov, 1.4k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You quietly sigh to yourself as you look at the two most important men in your life standing before you.

Both your brother and boyfriend look like they’ve been through the mud—or rather, the wet grass of the Quidditch pitch; but the former is clearly faring worse than the latter.

You’d watched the whole brawl go down—the whole school had, staff included.

The only reason Fred isn’t bleeding like Draco or sporting a busted lip like his twin is because his teammates had held him back.

Three of them.

He’s not hurt, but he’s furious—and while he’s been good on leaving Draco alone since you’ve begun dating, the look in Fred’s eyes right now tell you that he’s still reared up to go.

And you can’t say you blame him. Your brother had been out of line and you know it.

Which is why you cross your arms and focus on the blonde, staring into an identical pair of your own grey eyes as you frown.

“I don’t even know where to begin with you.” You say quietly. “Not only do you insult my boyfriend’s mother and his family home—but then you go and get into a brawl with his brother!? And then get them both banned from playing Quidditch!?”

Draco is immediately on the defense. You know your little brother. You see it in the way he stands up straighter, face growing contrite and indignant—he’s going to argue back.

And sure enough, “He hit me first! What was I-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” You cut him off sharply, and he instantly quiets. Years of being a big sister and essentially second mother for him during the school year has taught him when to back down.

“You deserved it, and we both know it. You insulted the Weasleys first. George might’ve thrown the first blow, but you threw the first stone.”

You shake your head slowly as you look down at him. “After everything our family has been through, Draco—I really thought you would know better than to attack another person’s.”

He swallows softly as he hangs his head, his fists clenching at his side—a habit he does whenever he’s angry at himself. And your father.

You can see that your words have hit home for him. Good. You know your little brother is an arse, which is putting it lightly—but you also know that there’s still good in him.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, and you shake your head.

“I’m not the ones you need to apologize to.” You say pointedly as you raise a brow.

Draco’s face morphs into an angry scowl and for a moment, you almost think he’s going to take it all back—but then he lets out a soft sigh and looks at Fred.

“I’m sorry, Weasley. It was wrong of me to attack your mother’s character and home like that. Or get you banned from Quidditch.” He says quietly. He looks like he’s just swallowed a sour lemon as he says it—but his tone is genuine and you know he means it.

You look at your boyfriend then, to gauge his reaction.

It’s his decision whether he forgives your brother or not, and you’ll support him in whatever choice he makes. Draco messed up, and you won’t allow your brother to get away with his wrongdoings like everyone else does.

What kind of a big sister would that make you?

Fred’s still angry, you can tell. His jaw is clenched and he’s taking deep breaths. He seems to grow taller as he stares down at the younger boy, and his fingers twitch at his side—like he’s fighting his body to keep still.

“I’m going to say this once, so listen up, Malfoy.” He starts, his stare growing more intense as he continues to look down at your brother.

“I don’t like you. I probably never will if you keep up the way you are—but I do respect you. You’re my witch’s brother, and whether you like it or not, I’m marrying your sister one day.” He steps closer, the height difference becoming more apparent as he does so.

Draco’s tall, but Fred is just simply taller.

“I’m here to stay, mate. We’re going to be in each other’s lives forever. So stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.” He nods slowly.

“But speak on my family like that again, disrespect the Weasley name—your sister’s future name; and I’ll show you why you should consider yourself lucky it was the other twin that got his hands on you today.” He finishes quietly.

Fred’s words even make the hair on the back of your neck rise. You know he means it, and from the way Draco swallows and casts his eyes to the side—he knows it too.

The blonde nods slowly. “Understood.”

Fred seems to ease up a little then, as he takes a step back and then another. He doesn’t stop until he’s beside you, arm securely wrapped around your waist.

Draco turns to look at you again and you instantly see the question in his eyes.

Are we okay?

You sigh softly and nod as you move to wrap your own arm around Fred.

“Apologize to the rest of the Weasleys by tomorrow.” You narrow your eyes, “I will know if you don’t.”

Draco lets out a quiet sigh and nods. “I will, Y/N. I promise.”

You step away from Fred to pull the younger boy into a hug—one he returns reluctantly, but within seconds he’s squeezing you tight and resting his chin on your shoulder.

He needs this hug. Deep down, your brother is sensitive—his craving for love and belonging steep. He always needs reassurance whenever you two have a row, always afraid that that’ll be the day you walk away from him forever. Thank you, dad.

“We’re okay, I promise. I love you, even though you’re a little shite sometimes.” You whisper softly, and smile when you feel him squeeze you tighter.

When you pull away, he returns your smile with his own—albeit smaller. “I love you too, Y/N.”

He nods to Fred and then begins to head to the dungeons.

You smirk softly as you make your way back into Fred’s arms, watching your brother go. “Staying with Fred tonight, cover for me with Snape! Thanks, love you!”

You hear a faint groan of complaint as he rounds the corner and you smile triumphantly.

Fred rubs your arm up and down gently as he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

You tilt your head up to him and smile apologetically. “I’m sorry for what he did today.”

He shakes his head instantly as he rubs your back soothingly. “Don’t apologize for him, love. You did nothing wrong.”

“I know, I know, but still. He said awful things about your mum and got you banned from Quidditch!” You sigh softly as you loop your arms around his neck and begin to fiddle with his hair. “He’s my little brother. My responsibility.”

Fred grabs your hands and brings them to his lips, kissing them gently. “Your brother, yes. Your responsibility, no. But your efforts are appreciated, love.”

He smirks softly as he pulls your hands back around his neck. “You had the git apologizing quicker than it’d even taken for the brawl to get going.”

You shake your head in amusement as you roll your eyes playfully. Normally, you would gently chastise him whenever he makes a snide remark about your brother—but you figure you can let it slide for today, all things considered.

“I hope you didn’t accept his apology for my sake, though. You have every right to be upset and not forgive him if that’s how you feel, Freddie.” You say softly.

He shakes his head gently. “I know, love. I chose to forgive him for exactly why I told him.”

You melt as you recall his words about marrying you and someday giving you the Weasley name. “I can’t believe you said all of that.”

“And I meant every word of it.” He murmurs softly before gently pulling you into a deep but tender, lingering kiss.

When he pulls back, he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek as he cups your face. “Besides, the way I see it—the bloke hates me and I’m dating his sister. He can still play Quidditch, sure, but who’s the real winner here? And I didn’t even have to touch a single hair on his pointy head.”

You burst out laughing before leaning into his chest. “The real winner of the brawl, huh?” You play along.

He just smirks softly. “Damn right, love.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! angryfredangryfredangryfred 😵‍💫😵‍💫. i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[geneviveleocardius]

silco and his way of loving you

my man

silco is a man of plans and ambition, but when it comes to you, everything else takes a backseat. you are his exception, the one person he trusts entirely.

if anyone threatens you, silco’s rage is terrifying. he’s a man who built a criminal empire; he knows how to destroy enemies utterly and ruthlessly. for you, he wouldn’t hesitate to dismantle all of it.

silco ensures your safety with meticulous planning. from hidden bodyguards to secure safehouses, you might not even realize how many layers of protection he’s arranged for you.

silco isn’t the type to shower you with grand romantic gestures. instead, his love is shown in the little things: making sure you have everything you need, fixing things before you even know there’s a problem, and quietly watching over you when you’re vulnerable.

silco is not overly physical, but when you’re alone, he’ll let his guard down. a hand on your lower back, fingers brushing against yours, or his thumb tracing your jaw when he cups your face—these moments mean everything coming from him.

at night, when the stress of the day fades, he’ll let his mask slip. silco holds you close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he whispers plans and dreams only meant for you to hear.

his sharp tongue spares no one, not even you, but there’s an unmistakable fondness in his teasing. he loves when you fire back, and the smirk that plays on his lips tells you he’s impressed by your wit.

silco has a knack for giving you nicknames that sound mocking but secretly melt his heart. whether it’s “darling,” “my torment,” or “trouble,” there’s always a hint of affection in his tone.

silco is a master of manipulation, but with you, there’s no need for pretense. you see the parts of him no one else does: the man who doubts, aches, and dreams. in you, he’s found someone he can truly rely on.

when the world feels like it’s pulling him into the abyss, you’re the one who keeps him grounded. he might be zaun’s eye, but you’re his anchor.

you’re the only person who sees the rare moments of guilt or pain flicker across his face. when his walls come down, he doesn’t speak much, but the way he clings to you says everything.

silco has no issue getting his hands dirty, but when it comes to you, he’ll even set aside his pride if it means making you happy. whether it’s something as small as an apology or something as monumental as changing his plans, he’ll do it for you.

silco is fiercely possessive, but he trusts you enough not to smother you. still, the way his sharp gaze lingers on anyone who gets too close is enough to send most people running.

silco may not be one for flowery words, but when he tells you, “you’re mine,” it’s a vow that carries more weight than any traditional declaration of love.

being loved by silco means being the most precious thing in a dangerous world. his love is intense, consuming, and unyielding—but with it comes a promise that you’ll never face anything alone.

silco’s love is quiet but intense, like a slow-burning fire. he isn’t the type to shout his feelings or wear his heart on his sleeve, but everything he does is for you. he shows his love through actions—ensuring your comfort, solving your problems before you even know they exist, and always putting you first.

he respects your independence but always watches out for you from the shadows. his way of saying “i love you” is often subtle: a rare, vulnerable gaze held a moment too long, or a quiet “stay safe” that carries more weight than any grand declaration.

silco’s kisses are measured and intense, like he’s savoring every second. he doesn’t rush, letting the moment linger as if nothing else exists.

in private moments of tenderness, he’ll press a soft kiss to your forehead, his way of silently promising to protect you.

he loves to tease you with playful, possessive nips during a kiss, a reminder of the passion simmering beneath his calm exterior.

he has a habit of kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear when he wants to make you melt, his voice low as he murmurs something teasing or affectionate.

silco thrives on making your life easier. whether it’s handling a problem you didn’t want to deal with or silently taking care of something before you even notice it, he shows his love through his competence and reliability.

though his life is busy and chaotic, he always carves out time for you. these moments are sacred to him, whether it’s sitting in comfortable silence or talking late into the night.

while he isn’t overly expressive, silco’s words, when he chooses to speak, carry immense weight. he knows exactly how to reassure you, lift you up, or show his admiration with sharp, carefully chosen phrases.

he loves the way your hands feel in his—smaller, softer, yet steady. he’ll hold your hand under the table during tense meetings or brush his fingers over yours in quiet moments, finding comfort in the connection.

silco is intense but never reckless. he approaches intimacy with the same deliberate care he applies to everything else, making sure you feel adored and completely satisfied.

he knows every inch of your body and every reaction you have. nothing escapes his notice, and he takes his time learning exactly what makes you feel good.

silco likes to take control, but he’s not harsh—he’s commanding, confident, and endlessly patient. he makes you feel safe while igniting a fire you didn’t know existed.

intimacy is one of the few times he allows himself to be completely unguarded with you. his whispered confessions and soft touches reveal a man who trusts you in ways he trusts no one else.

silco loves to keep you on your toes with sly comments and sarcastic humor. “oh, you think you can outsmart me? charming, but unlikely,” he’ll say with a smirk when you challenge him.

even after all this time, the way he looks at you can make your heart race. his sharp, calculating gaze softens into something warmer, more intimate, when his eyes meet yours across a crowded room.

a hand on the small of your back, a light brush of his fingers against yours, or a firm grip on your waist remind you that you’re his.

he’ll catch you off guard with unexpected praise. “you’re too brilliant for your own good, you know that?” he says, his tone half-teasing but completely sincere.

silco thrives on stolen moments of intimacy. even in the middle of a busy day, he’ll pull you aside, his voice low and suggestive as he murmurs, “do you have any idea how distracting you are?”

being loved by silco is like being claimed by a storm—intense, consuming, and completely unshakable. he’s not just your lover; he’s your partner, protector, and equal, and he makes sure you never doubt how deeply he adores you.

[igotanidea]

Stuck: Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

A/N: seriously, I almost titled this chapter "idiot" , XD (and that's also the spoiler alert XD)

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

***

One year ago

„When will you get those irrational thoughts out of your head Y/N?”

“What irrational thoughts?”

“About marriage out of love. No such thing exist in the world, my dear and if you do not start living in reality you shall become a spinster!”

“Mother!” Y/N’s eyes grew wide at the harsh and unjust words. She was still so young and to almost be called an old maid—

“Do not raise your voice young lady. You shall marry this season otherwise you would be putting our noble house in a very compromising position.”

“But-“

“Ah! Do not object your mother Y/N. You’ll do as I say. I know what’s best for you and you shall follow the lead. And that is precisely why you’ll accept when Lord Bridgerton proposes to you.”

“Lord Bridgerton!? Which one!?”

“The viscount, dear.” Her mother fluttered her fan imperiously. “Lord Anthony Bridgerton.”

“There is no possibility that I-“

“Hush!”

“Mother I –“

“You’ll say yes.” The tone of voice became much more commanding, leaving no space for discussion. It was like Y/N’s fate has already been decided.

“And why shall I? Because the viscount has decided he has enough pleasantries exchanged with modistes and actresses and other ladies free of the burden of the title. Because mighty Lord Bridgerton decided it is time to tie bounds with a young noble lady, who will be naïve and foolish enough to look at his antics without as much as a blink of an eye. Who will – dear lord – bear him an heir to the title and be the perfect little wife he would order around.”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” her mother raised from the chaise longue with cheeks flushed due to her daughter impertinence. “You will accept the proposal!”

“I will not!”

“Your father has already made the appropriate commitments!”

“Commitments!?”

“You shall be courted like a young lady should and get married in the fall.”

“Mother!”

“It has been decided. Now, you go and make yourself presentable. Lord Bridgerton has announced his visit in the afternoon.”

***

The visit was a disaster, to use the light words.

It was clear as day that neither Anthony nor Y/N were fully content with this arrangement and subconsciously tried to discourage the other. That way, when one of them would actually break it off, said one would be to blame for the disgrace, that would undeniably fall on both families.

However-

Despite some many character discrepancies they were both pertinacious and individualistic, ready to go the greatest length to have one’s own way. Neither of them was even thinking of surrendering easily.

Therefore, during his first appointment as a suitor Anthony was met with cold stares, minimum exchange of words and very noticeable distance on his future bride’s part.

Immediately matching the atmosphere and repaying in kind, only doubled in intensity.

Getting burned with the tea in response.

Causing a lot of havoc, many fake words of apologies and even more words of assurance that is must have been an unfortunate accident and he holds no grudge.

For obvious reason the time spend in L/N;s household was cut extremely short and Y/N was send to bed without supper to think about her erratic behavior.

Next few visits were no better.

Especially not the one when Anthony and Y/N were to reveal to a wide audience the nature of their acquaintance by strolling on the promenade, beaming with happiness due to their soon-to-be marriage.

“Dear lord, you are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony hissed in Y/N’s ear grabbing her arm with a bit more force than needed “Smile.”

She put on a fake grin when they were passing by some familiar face, but as soon as the woman was gone she turned to Anthony throwing daggers at him.

“Giving me orders already, Lord Bridgerton?”

“Hopefully you can be tempered if we start getting you used to it this early.”

“Oh! Perhaps it should be you to change the perspective my lord. See the real face of a lady you decided to meet at the altar?”

“And here I though your wonderful mother raised you better.”

“Do not dare speak of my mother the ill way!” she almost yelled, almost yanking her hand free from his grip, stopping the walk and challenging him to do something reckless.

“Forgive me.” He became serious in an instant and the words of apologies actually seemed honest. “You are right, I overstepped.”

“Thank you.” She responded with a deep sigh. God knows how much it took for her to stay calm. Regardless of the on-going conflict and differences in views between Y/N and her mother, the young woman would never let anyone offend her family. Not even Lord Bridgerton. And he should know that straight away.

“Perhaps we have started off the wrong foot, Lady Y/L/N.”

“I believe so. Seemingly we have a way to bring out the worst in each other, Lord Bridgerton.”

“Is that a way to tell me I have already seen you on your lowest behavior?”

“Compliments, Lord Bridgerton, you have endured my greatest efforts to cause you dispiritedness.” Despite herself she let out a chuckle.

“I am known for my endurance even in the least favorable circumstances.”

“I shall keep on my efforts, nonetheless.”

“I am deeply convinced that this will be the case”

***

Dearest gentle reader,

It has come to this writer’s attention that the affection between Viscount Bridgerton and young lady Y/L/N is in full bloom.

Despite the initial misunderstandings and noble behavior, that hasn't deceived any member of the ton, even if have been well played, recent news and observation has shown that maybe there's less pretending and more truth to it. 

Much to the ton’s discombobulation, young pair has been seen laughing together while the viscount resorted to courting in the way that resemble his late father and Lady Violet Bridgerton manner.

This writer daresay that no elite member would have ever do as much as dream of Lord Anthony Bridgerton picking meadow flowers for his chosen one while walking in the fields, away from prying eyes. Neither anyone would ever think about the forever dreamer lady Y/l/n actually so close to fulfilling her dream of marrying out of love. Irrational thoughts, as someone may put.

It is yet to be decided whether the on-going courtship between lord Bridgerton and lady Y/L/N will be a source of impending scandal in the society or whether those two will actually succeed in keeping this lovable atmosphere for following years.

After all – real love is not easily found and even less easily kept once the obstacles arise.

***

Now.

“You are to be enthusiastic.” Anthony murmured taking Y/N;s arm and bowing to the passing nobles “Smile.”

Those words brought back some memories and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the history that was in fact repeating itself.

“What is so funny?”

“Your memory does seem so be failing my lord. Won’t you remember the last situation when you told me to express my happiness and contentment to the ton?”

“I—” Anthony cut off, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh.

“Seem like you do after all.”

“Y/N…”

“Been a while since I had to pretend I was content though, given the fact that I truly was, of late.” The hint of sadness and melancholy was not to miss and did not make it easier for Anthony to pursue on the apologies he was tirelessly pursuing.

“Y/N…”

“Good job on choosing the right name since the person, whose hand you are now holding for display seem to be too much for you, my lord. To say the full truth I am fairly surprised you chased me here instead of focusing on spending time with one of your-“

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”

“Oh, I shall not, god forbid. I shall keep the pretenses as any lady married into a good family will.” She send the brightest smile to some kids that were running around, preached by their parents, holding her walls up.

At this point, mockery and distancing herself from the entire unfortunate events, if not fight, was the only way to prevent the emotional and mental breakdown and falling into tears. She was hurt. She was deeply hurt on a level she never thought existed. Anthony’s behavior hit precisely in all the sensitive spots, leaving her overthinking and wailing inside. Reminding her of all the years in her family’s household, being forced to act according to the standards, which she constantly broke, defying all the rules of ossified society and paying a heavy price for being herself despite the odds.

Being called too much, constantly.

Until she met Eloise, which was freeing. Y/N could finally feel like herself, spending a lot of time with Bridgertons.

And then meeting Anthony.

And actually creating a happy story with him, believing she would once and for all be free of the typecasting and tag putting.

But he started behaving in the same way to which she was exposed her entire life.

Too much.

Not enough.

And it made her angry.

“Please do forgive me for not easily being shaped in the wife you want me to be.”

“Shaped? I never wanted you any different!”

“Is that so?” she raised an eyebrow teasingly and it got her furious glance of her husband’s and the tightening bruising grip on her wrist. “you’re hurting me. Again.” The emphasis put on the last word actually made Anthony realize that he was not made of stone, but the words he wished to say were not coming easily.

“Y/N…” he clenched his jaw. She was mocking and challenging him even now, when he was trying to admit he was wrong and trying to apologize for the wrongdoings.

“Yes, my lord?” she took a step back, smiling in that light way that made him even more furious.

 “I believe you wanted to spend time on an intellectual conversation with my sister. Forgive me-“ he bowed in a distant manner reserved for strangers rather than spouses “-for being as impertinent to interrupt ladies’ time. I shall withdraw and leave you to continue on your – surely important- exchange”

And with those words, much to the shock of not only Y/N, but also Benedict and Eloise, who were still following them, Anthony bowed again and started walking away, raising clouds of dust due to the speed with which he rushed off from the place where he left his beloved wife.

Feeling the weight of failure and heartbreak on his shoulders, without a single way to make up for his mistake and keeping the face of a viscount at the same time.

Convinced that she hated him and there was no way to regain her favor and affection.

next part (finale!) : Just right

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4 @gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm @bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @christinabae @pandoraneverland @bevstofu @topguncultleader @jana-jaeynneee @myaa21212121 @ziarah @cat-lockwood @leaf-rose-thorn @elissanatok @lily3450 @nervousmumbling @budugu @frickin-bats @sillyfreakfanparty @amberpanda99 @nycthophiliaa @myaa21212121 @bananaadeleigate @everybodystaycalm @fmhcatt @sankareatheundead @cat-lockwood @1potato2rulethemall

[haechani4ever]

dreamies taking care of you (or not?) when you fall sick, but you're in the midst of a big fight 🤧

(also youre so precious you deserve all the asks in the world 💞)

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: taking care✧

╰┈➤ nct dream taking care of you but in the middle of a fight

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋpairing ot7 x gn!reader

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋgenre fluff, agnst?

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋnote omg, tysm for this. u dont have idea how much i love you all and how i really appreciete every request, like, repost, follow or anything 😭🫶

✦➼mark lee

✦- you don't remember why the fight even happened in the first place. what you do remember is that it was pretty intense and you both ended up angry at each other. the next day you woke up feeling sick and a little ill. you decided to go to bed after work. when mark came home and saw you like that he felt bad immediately. first he apologized to you for arguing "i'm so sorry , now let me take care of you" he stayed by your side and helped you with things like medicine and such.

✦➼huang renjun

✦- first he pretended not to care, he even thought you were doing it to get attention and for him to apologize. but after you proved otherwise, he felt ashamed for thinking that. he decided to put the fight aside for a moment and take care of you. days later he probably had forgotten that you fought and started to take care of you completly. when he rembered the fight, he went to you to apologize.

✦➼lee jeno

✦- he already felt bad from the fight because he hates to argue and tries not to. so when he saw that you fell ill days later it was worse. he approached you while you were lying in your shared bed with a wet cloth to lower your fever and a puppy face. as he brought it to your forehead he whispered an "i'm sorry, angel." since his love language is acts of service he continued to take care of you until you felt better.

✦➼lee donghyuck

✦- he's a proud boy, so it will take him a while to apologize and give in to taking care of you. he'll probably start doing it when he sees that you're having a hard time doing it on your own. it was when you were trying to open a bottle of pills that he took it out of your hands and he did it himself. since you were fighting, you didn't say thank you, which made him a little irritated. "hey, i'm sorry, okay? i just wanted to help you," he said as you walked away. you forgave him and agreed to let him take care of you while you recovered.

✦➼na jaemin

✦- after the fight you two didn't talk for a few days. that's when you got sick. he saw that you had gotten sick, but since he was still a little angry about the fight he didn't take care of you. that stopped when he heard you sneezing from the kitchen, so he handed you some tissues. you thanked him and he gave you a little kiss on the forehead in response. although he didn't apologize with words, he did it with actions, he did. then he continued to take care of you until you were finally able to get better.

✦➼zhong chenle

✦- he's a proud boy, so it will be hard for him to soften up. small arguments were common in your relationship since you both had quite a temper. when he saw that you had gotten sick, he acted like it didn't matter to him, but he was actually quite worried. he'll probably soften up a few days later, when you were a little better. you were preparing a bath but it was a little harder than usual because you were a little weak. "do you need help?" he said indifferently from the other side of the door. you nodded and he finally agreed to take care of you.

✦➼park jisung

✦- this boy is so cute and sweet that he wouldn't hesitate to take care of you as soon as he noticed you were sick. at first he would take care of you with simple things, but hardly speaking. he would just happen to pass by the room while you were struggling to fix the bedspread and he would do it for you. until while he was adjusting your pillows so you would be more comfortable he apologized. he said he was sorry and that he didn't want you to argue like that again. you forgave him and asked him if he could take care of you, which he clearly accepted because he was dying inside.

[greengoblinswifey]

Are you writing for the outer banks ? I would love a JJ and Pope x reader after this last season ❤️

summary— JJ and Pope are on the run, the least you can do is give them a place to stay and a hole to fill because your parents want to take away their livelihood.

warnings— slight s4 spoilers. slight angst, threesome, fingering, oral(m&f receiving), hand job, praise kink, ass slapping, degrading kink, rough sex, protected sex, unprotected sex, anal, choking, double penetration, creampie.

a/n— requests for obx are open, enjoy <3

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Never in a million years would you have thought you’d be harboring fugitives. Your parents would skin you alive if they found out.

JJ’s footsteps echoed against the marble floor as he paced furiously back and forth across your bedroom. His fists clenched, jaw tight, he turned on you, eyes blazing. “Did you know about this?” he demanded, almost accusingly. “Did you know your family was trying to tear down everything we have left?”

“JJ, that’s not fair,” Pope interjected, his tone strained but trying to steady the atmosphere. Though Pope was calmer, you could see the tension in his eyes, the way he clenched his fists whenever he thought about everything they’d risked to fight for.

You swallowed, feeling their eyes burning into you. “No, I didn’t know,” you replied, fighting to keep your voice steady, though his accusation stung. “I would never be okay with that, and I can’t believe you’d think I would. I'm putting myself at risk for you two right now—do you have any idea what my parents would do if they found out?”

JJ ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard as he finally sank onto the bed beside you, pressing his palms against his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, frustration lacing his apology. “I’m just—if they get their way, that’s it. Everything we’ve fought for is gone.”

Pope sat down on your other side, eyes dark and thoughtful as he tried to compose himself. “We’re just out of options. I don’t know where else to turn, and now we’ve got the cops on our backs too.” He looked down, clenching his jaw, before looking back at you. “But we don’t want you to get hurt either.”

You placed a hand on each of their shoulders, trying to calm them down. “Listen, we’ll figure this out. I’ll do everything I can to convince my parents to see it from your side. I won’t let them just rip everything away from you.”

JJ shook his head, though he seemed a little calmer. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to change their minds, but thanks for trying sweetheart ,” he murmured, a softer look passing over his face.

Pope nodded, gripping your hand in silent gratitude. “We trust you.”

As the room fell silent, the air thickened. JJ’s hand brushed along your thigh, firm yet cautious, while Pope’s fingers lingered at the back of your neck. You could feel the air between you three shift. You looked between them, and in their eyes, saw the same look—intense, lust blown, and wanting.

JJ’s gaze was unrelenting as he murmured, “Are you sure about this? We don’t have to unless you want to.” His voice was soft but laced with need.

You swallowed, heart pounding. “I want to,” you whispered, glancing back and forth between them. “I want this—with both of you.”

With that, you leaned toward Pope, lips finding his in a passionate kiss. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, while JJ’s fingers gently traced along your arm and then groping your tits. As Pope’s lips moved against yours, JJ’s hands lingered, his touch sending a rush of warmth through you.

“You’re so hot,” Pope murmured between kisses, his words barely audible, his breath warm against your skin.

JJ leaned close, brushing his lips just below your ear. “Let’s help you out of this,” he whispered, hands carefully guiding the fabric away from your shoulders. His fingers brushed along your skin, gentle and teasing, and you shivered under his touch.

They took their time, careful and attentive, each movement heightening what was between you. Pope’s hands found your waist, guiding you toward him as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. You let out a soft moan, feeling completely enveloped by them both.

JJ’s lips met yours, his kiss full of restrained urgency. “We’ll take care of you,” he murmured, his hands tracing gentle patterns along your back.

Pope’s voice was quiet but steady. “We just want you to feel good, to let go.”

You smiled, nodding as warmth bloomed through you. “Don’t stop,” you whispered, meeting both of their gazes. You knew you were exactly where you wanted to be.

As they stood in front of you, both of them needing a release, you could feel the weight of their gazes. You knew exactly what they needed and you sank to your knees slowly, gaining their nods of approval as they watched you with admiration. JJ’s breath hitched as he muttered, “You really are something else, goddamn.” Pope nodded in agreement, a soft grin on his face. “You have no idea what you’re doing to us.”

You took your time unbuckling both their belts and their breathing quickened. As you did, both their cocks sprang free and you were surprised, to say the least. Pope was thick and long, the vein on his cock pulsing and JJ was so long, not as thick as Pope but you knew he’d fill you up just right. They both would.

With your eyes needy and doe eyed, you stared up at them, on your knees as you took JJ deep into your mouth, your other hand stroking Pope slowly.

“Fuck,” they moaned in unison. Their moans willed you on and you switched, taking Pope into your throat and stroking JJ as their heads fell back in utter pleasure.

“You’re fucking amazing, y’know that?” JJ panted. You hummed around Pope’s cock, gagging and bobbing your head faster, determined to feel his cum shoot down your throat. Your thumb massaged the tip of JJ’s shaft then down to his balls as your tongue swirled around Pope’s cock, and before long, you could feel him throbbing uncontrollably.

“You’re doing so good for us, shit, I’m gonna cum,” Pope breathed. You stared up at him, your eyes begging him to cum down your throat and he got the message. He held onto your curls lightly, holding you down as his cum shot down your throat and you swallowed every drop.

Feeling JJ’s balls tighten, you quickly took your mouth off Pope’s cock and went to his, massaging his balls and deep throating him. You were determined to make him cum too and very soon, you heard the unmistakable sounds of soft whimpers of your name and the feeling of warm cum filling your mouth. You hummed as you swallowed, savoring the taste of both that made your tastebuds tingle and your pussy wet.

When they finally pulled you up, JJ brushed a hand across your cheek, laughing softly. “You really do know how to take our minds off things.” You were proud of yourself, you made two men, friends at that, cum minutes apart.

“I think it’s our turn to make you feel good, s’that a good deal?” Pope inquired and you nodded desperately. He wrapped his arms around you, capturing your lips in a kiss and laid you onto the bed, spreading your legs as he did.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“You are fucking soaked,” JJ praised, “did sucking our cocks turn you on that much?”

“Or are you just a slut?” Pope smirked.

You’d never heard them talk to anyone like that, it was different and it had you throbbing.

JJ leaned down, his eyes locked onto yours as his lips captured your pussy in a soft kiss. It was so intimate, he was practically making out it. He moved to your clit, his tongue flicking it as you gripped onto Pope who made his way beside you for support.

He used one hand to play with your nipples, the action sending waves of pleasure you never thought would be possible from such a simple gesture. Then, his other hand slowly trailed down your abdomen making you shiver as JJ continued his attack on your pussy. Pope’s fingers finally reached your wet hole, slipping in two immediately as JJ lapped at your juices.

“Tell us how good we’re making you feel,” Pope whispered, his fingers curling to find your g spot.

“You’re making me feel so good, you guys are so— fuck,” you moaned.

“Alright then, be a good girl and cum for us,” JJ smirked, his tongue’s movements speeding up and making you grip the sheets tightly.

You weren’t sure who or what to hold on to but you found yourself gripping on to JJ’s hair and your other hand clutching Pope’s as you squirted all over them. You shivered uncontrollably, slowly coming down from your high as they cooed at you.

“Bet none of those lame kooks made you squirt the way we just did,” Pope said, almost cockily.

You nodded shyly, he was right. No one had ever made you feel remotely close to what they just did, you needed more.

JJ grabbed a condom from his wallet, handing one to Pope and they both ripped it open, rolling it onto their hard cocks. You bit your lip in anticipation wondering how you would take the two behemoths in front of you. Was this how the night was really going to go?

JJ was first, him and Pope exchanging looks and finally, he got his own way as usual. He slid above you, his blue eyes piercing into your brown ones as he slowly rubbed the tip of his covered cock along your folds.

“You ready for this baby?” he asked, his voice raspy and low.

“Please just put it in.” He was more than satisfied with your answer and he slowly slid inside your pussy, you weren’t sure if it was to help you adjust or savor the moment. The wind was immediately knocked from you as his hips snapped harshly against you. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you squeezed your eyes shut, soft whimpers leaving your lips as he began rutting into you roughly.

“Oh c’mon, take it baby, this is what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

All you could do was moan and slightly push his hips away from you but your slight resistance proved futile. He was thrusting into you with such great force, you could feel him in your cervix. Pope stood there watching intently, his breathing irregular as he slowly pumped his covered cock, desperate for you to cum so he could be inside you.

“We both want you to cum baby, can you do that? Can you squirt on my cock?”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, nodding as he continued to pound into you. He grabbed your neck and forced you flat on your bed then pinned your legs behind your head.

“Jesus christ, that’s it, look at this wet pussy all spread out for me,” he chucked.

Your pussy couldn’t take it any longer. Clenching tightly around him, you squealed as you felt a rush of liquid spray from you, soaking JJ and the sheets below. His movements slowed, allowing you to feel everything as you came down from your high.

“Your turn Pope, you’re gonna love that tight little pussy,” JJ said, slipping out of you and sitting in the chair opposite your bed.

You were so sensitive, your pussy twitching as Pope used the heavy tip of his cock to rub along your clit.

“Aww, are you sensitive?” he asked and you slowly nodded your head. “Well, too bad.”

As the words left his lips, he sank into you, spreading your legs wide open so he could be balls deep. You weren’t sure how you were taking him, JJ had definitely stretched you open and prepared you.

“Tell him how good it feels,” JJ demanded, sliding the condom off his cock. It wasn’t even full making you wonder why he was ditching it.

“Feels so fucking good, you’re so deep Pope, it feels so good.”

Your moans turned into screams as Pope’s cock collided with your g spot continuously and he reached between your bodies to play with your sloppy clit.

“C-can’t,” you sobbed, the pleasure almost unfathomable.

“Yes the fuck you can baby, now squirt on my cock like you did before, be a good girl,” Pope cooed.

Your pussy was obedient and as predicted, you squirted onto his cock, clutching Pope’s body as if he would disappear if you didn’t.

“See, you could, that’s a good girl, that’s my good girl,” he panted in your ear, your foreheads touching as he rutted into you hard but slow.

Your eyes were heavy and they began closing but it didn’t last long as you felt the bed dip and Pope move from the position above you.

“Arch that back,” Pope murmured but you were too dazed to do so.

They chuckled at your cock drunk demeanor and Pope put you into position with JJ sliding under you and Pope behind you. Pope slapped your ass harshly making you jolt and you felt the unmistakable feeling of the head of his cock, bare, probing your ass.

“W-what are you doing?” you inquired.

“It’s okay, just preparing you to take my cock in that tight ass.”

Before you could protest, JJ captured your lips in a deep kiss, his hand around your neck cutting off your oxygen just a bit.

“And you’re gonna take the both of us at the same time like a good fucking whore, yeah?”

JJ chuckled knowing he was squeezing your throat hard and you wouldn’t be able to answer.

You felt both their bare cocks at the entrance of your holes then the feeling of Pope spitting on your ass and using your juices from your pussy to help lubricate it.

“It’s gonna feel so good baby, I promise,” he cooed.

You felt your vision blur as both men sank into you at the same time. JJ’s hand moved from your neck to your mouth, finally allowing you to breathe. Your screams were muffled in his hand as neither men allowed you to adjust to their size and they began moving at the same brutal pace, the bed squeaking under their weight.

Your muffled screams turned into loud moans and the men took it as the opportunity to go even faster, your tits bouncing against JJ’s body as they did.

“See, what did I tell you beautiful? It’s gonna feel so good,” Pope cooed, slapping your ass.

“She’s such a fucking slut Pope, harboring fugitives and making them fuck her? What would mommy and daddy think?” They both chuckled, mocking you but your pussy squelching loudly was the biggest mockery.

“She’s clenching around the both of us, fuck,” Pope groaned, “cum for us, I know you want to.”

JJ squeezed your neck and used the other hand to rub rough circles on your clit. The pleasure surging all throughout you was too much and before long, your body convulsed violently and you came beneath them.

“Good fucking whore, such a fucking cock slut for us, so obedient. I can’t wait for us to fuck these holes every chance we get,” JJ muttered, his thrusts becoming more powerful.

“We’re gonna cum inside you, fill you to the brim and leave you here leaking,” Pope added.

You whimpered at their words, not able to form a single thought as both boys went at the same brutal pace. You would’ve thought they were trying to tear you apart. With deep moans, they stilled inside you, each pressing deep as their warm cum filled you up. Your holes clamped tightly around them, milking their cocks of all their cum and the feeling of being full in both your holes made your eyes roll back.

“That’s our girl, our little cock drunk whore,” JJ said. Both boys slipped out of you, collapsing on either side of you as they caressed your body.

Pope leaned over to turn up your radio, just in time to hear that the search was still on for him and JJ. Your heart dropped as you heard their last sighting was in your neighborhood.

“Well, that’s our cue,” JJ chuckled. They both sprang up, quickly putting on their clothes to make their escape. While you were half grateful they were leaving, scared someone would find you with them, both your holes leaking with their cum, you wish they could stay to cuddle you.

“Next time, yeah?” Pope said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“We’ll be back soon and you’ll get those cuddles we know you want,” JJ added, placing a kiss on your lips.

You hummed in content. “Be safe you two, call me if you need anything.”

With that, the boys sneakily slipped out of your mansion, leaving you a leaking mess on the soaked sheets below you.

[pinkmelodie]

Hopeless Romantic! König <3

Summary: Hopeless Romantic König who meets you at a park and finds love at first sight to be true. You two enjoy a cute date until he takes you home and gives you one last treat ;)

Words: 2342

Warnings: 18+, overstim, König eats F!Reader out, fingering, fluff to smut, praise, cute romance, squirting, certified munch König !!

He feels like an idiot standing there in the scenic park, awkwardly holding a bouquet of fresh pink roses. He’d picked them out specially for her, and took the time to sprinkle glitter onto the beautiful petals, but it was all for nothing. All his effort went to waste as the poor guy got stood up.

Wallowing in his own shame, he barely noticed someone yelling in the distance until it got closer. He finally snapped out of his trance to see a dog running straight at him. He bent down and stopped the panting golden retriever, caught off guard but smiling and petting it.

“Rover! Oh thank gosh…” He thought it might be the angels themselves speaking when he heard that voice, but he looked up to see nothing but a beautiful woman with a relieved expression. Looking at her closely, he figured perhaps he was looking at an angel.

“Thank you for stopping him, he just runs straight off whenever I let him off leash.” You apologized breathlessly.

König smiled, and found himself forgetting the failed date entirely as he got lost in your eyes. “It’s not a problem, he’s quite adorable.” He responded, and he noticed your eyes widen the tiniest bit at his unfamiliar accent.

“C’mere Rovey,” You cooed, and König’s heart pounded in his chest. The dog trotted straight into your arms and sat still while you hooked the leash back onto his collar. Gosh, what König would give for your sweet voice to be directed onto him like that. 

König stood up and you followed suit after making sure your pooch’s collar was secure, and he didn’t miss the way your jaw dropped when you noticed his towering height. Seriously, what are they feeding this man??

You blushed and suddenly felt shy in the presence of this not only polite but incredibly tall man. He was handsome too, with alluring blue eyes that stared at you with such intensity you had to look away. 

Only then did you notice the fallen bouquet.

“Oh! Is this yours? I’m so sorry, did Rover knock it out of your hands-“ you apologized profusely and picked the shimmering bouquet up, handing it back to him. He didn’t give a flying fuck about the fact it fell on the ground tho, he didn’t even notice since he’d been so focused on staring at you.

He shook his head and didn’t bother taking it out of your hands. “No no, no worries. I uhm…I don’t even need it anymore anyways, my date didn’t show up.” He admited with a sigh.

He regretted telling you the moment your expression turned upset. “That’s horrible, I’m sorry.” You muttered sadly, and he felt the desperate need to make you smile again.  “Well this is beautifully made, too bad I couldn’t have been your date.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood but being completely honest.

He stared down at you and blushed as well, “You don’t mean that.” He denied.

“but I do! I would give anything for someone to put this much effort into something just for me.” You admitted, smiling up at him and giggling until you noticed his expression seemed serious.

“Anyone who hasn’t already is a mad man.” He said with a genuine smile, and took the bouquet out of your hands only to offer it back to you. “Little—Rover, was it?—seems to want to explore the park. So, why don’t we all go for a stroll Ja? Rover, me, and…..” He trailed off, so you told him your name.

“And you are?”

“König.” He announced, his addicting accent shining through when he said it.

“Well König…..I don’t see why not.” You accepted his offer and the flowers with a gentle smile that he found himself wanting to see for the rest of his life.

His awful day just got a whole lot better. 

You both spent the day walking around the lovely park, with you having to take twice as many steps just to catch up, which only proved to make him cackle. You admired the ponds and threw sticks for Rover, trusting that König and his long legs could catch up to the hound if he ran too far. He told you about how Austrians typically love to walk everywhere, and you followed up with about a hundred questions about his home country. You even got ice cream, which gave König all types of thoughts when he watched you wipe off the dripping white cream from your lips. He assumed you didn’t notice his stare and flushed cheeks, but you definitely did. Not so much of a gentleman now, hm?

Finally, when it was dark and the park became quiet you both decided to head home. When exchanging numbers you mentioned how you had to walk back to your house since you walked here with your pup earlier in the day for exercise, and König was not having any of that.

“Nein, it’s much too dangerous at night.” he shook his head, leaving no room for argument. “I will give you and your golden a ride home, it’s not a problem.” 

“Really König, it’s okay. I don’t want Rovers hair getting all over your seats.” You whined.

“And I don’t want you getting kidnapped off the side of the street Maus, which sounds worse to you?” He asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

You tried to argue but came up with nothing and sighed in defeat. “Fine, I’ll let you be annoyingly nice….” You pouted, and he laughed while opening the door for Rover to jump in the back—probably a sign you need a more protective dog if he didn’t even hesitate going in somewhere unfamiliar—and the passenger door for you. 

You gave him directions like his own little passenger princess, looking tiny in the truck that must’ve been specially made to fit someone as giant as him. You dreaded the moment when he pulled into your driveway meaning you two had to part. You’d only met him a few hours ago, yet it felt like you’ve known him for years.

“Have a good night, liebling.” He got out to help you let Rover out and walk you to your door, but before he could turn around to head back to his truck you stopped him. “Actually, would you like to come in?” You offered, setting down the flowers on your counter and smiling suggestively.

He turned beet red like he did at the ice cream stand, but nodded quickly. You giggled and grabbed his hand to drag him inside, pressing your lips together as soon as the front door was closed and Rover was sleeping further away in the middle of the kitchen floor. (Don’t get nasty infront of your pets guys!! They can get scarred for life too ok 😣)

“Jump.” He ordered, and you did as he said and leaped into the air. He caught you with ease, hands grabbing onto the back of your thighs and squeezing the soft flesh. 

He stumbled around for a moment, overly  caught up in your make out session but eventually finding your bedroom. He dropped you flat on your back on the bed, kissing at your neck and seeing which spots got the biggest reactions out of you to start sucking hickeys into.

You moaned and writhed, begging him to do something, and like the gentleman he is, he decided to help you out and tugged down your bottoms, rubbing circles onto your clit through your panties. 

He grabbed your ankles and tugged you to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide for him to fit his broad shoulders between. He bit and sucked deep purple marks into your sensitive thighs, watching them writhe in his grasp. 

“König- fuck, please!” You begged, tho you weren’t even completely sure what you were begging for.

“What is it Maus? Tell me what you need.” He asked while pressing kisses up your thigh, leaving love-bites dangerously close to where you needed his mouth most.

“Want…..want your mouth on me. Or your fingers or- ngh! Anything please König- please!” You cried out, already begging pathetically for his touch.

With a devilish smirk he finally tugged down your panties. You clenched around nothing at the cold air and the look of admiration in his eyes as he stared down your cunt. 

“Such a pretty pussy….” he mumbled, “all this just for me sweetheart?” He asked, gathering your slick on his fingers. 

You turned your neck and buried your face in your pillow in embarrassment but he just reached up to grab your chin and turned you to look at him. “Eyes on me.” 

Finally satisfied with your pretty eyes gazing down at him, König delved into your cunt, gripping your thighs and shoving you impossibly closer like he wanted to devour you whole.

Your moans and choked out whines served as fuel for him while he ate you out like a man starved, his big hooked nose bumping into your clit making you shake and arch your back off the soft sheets.  

He dives his tongue into your entrance to fully taste you, and the satisfied hum he releases vibrates in your core and leaves you a leaking, panting mess as he licks you up like your the last bit of water on the Sahara ground.

 He licks a stripe up your pussy until he gets to your clit and starts sucking on it. He’s shameless to the sloppy wet sounds he’s making while he rolls the engorged bud on his tongue and prods a thick finger at your hole. You squirm at how big just the one is—about the size of at least two of yours, maybe more—but you welcome it in with a loud moan of his name. You were already dangerously close by the time he had his mouth on you, but the feeling of just one of his thick fingers slamming into you while he starts to tease another in has you crying out to the stars and cumming all over his hand. 

“That’s it schatz….just like that, mein gott you look so gorgeous when you’re cumming, Ich möchte für immer zwischen deinen Schenkeln bleiben.” He praised you, still pumping his two fingers into your clenching cunt to ride out your high for as long as possible. 

He pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, leaning down to lick up any of your arousal that spilled onto your thighs. When you finally opened your eyes you noticed him staring at you darkly, and the expression made heat pool in your gut.

“W-what?” You asked, half nervous-half turned on. You went to close your legs but he gripped your marked up thighs and laid your legs over his shoulders to have even better access to your soaked cunny.

“Oh we’re not even close to done prinzessin.” He announced with a smirk before sinking three fingers straight back into your pussy, fully intent on making you squirt for him.

You gasped and nearly choked on your words, “wha-y hah-“ you moaned and twitched in overstimulation until he slowed. 

“Tell me to stop.” It was a question; not an order.

Tears leaked down your flushed cheeks but you gasped out; “keep going” and he smiled, the whole bottom half of his face dripping. He wasted no time diving straight back in, inhaling your scent. “Mit Vergnügen, mein bedürftiges kleines Häschen.” He mumbled into your clit, not even bothering to speak English anymore as he knew your fucked out brain could barely comprehend anything. Four of his large digits split you open, grinding and prodding farther into you than you could ever reach on your own. Without much time he found that sensitive bundle of nerves, and you didn’t fail to let him know when you cried out and scratched at your sheets, chanting his name like a mantra.

“König- ah- KönigKönigKönigKönigpleasefuck- pleasepleaseKönig plea- hah . .!..” You moaned, fisting the sheets desperately.

He relentlessly abused that spot, slamming his fingers into you over and over and teasing your folds with the other hand. He messily sucked on your clit, circling it with his tongue like a lollipop, using every part of himself for your pleasure.

“Come on my gorgeous liebling, mein diamant, mein perfekter Schatz, come for me. Squirt all over my fingers.” He begged, voice whiny and muffled into your pussy while he continued his relentless assault on your puffy cunt. 

“Kö….gonna- fuck m’gonna-“ You managed to stutter out  the warning between moans.

“Go on hase, let go. I’ve got you, go ahead.” He encouraged, ravishing your sweet cunny until you were squirting all over his face with a choked out scream, whole body trembling. You were stuck between running away from the burning pleasure and shoving yourself closer, but luckily you didn’t have to decide as he had you pinned down, groaning into your pussy.

Your vision went blank for a few moments, but you came back when you felt him still lapping lazily at your folds until you were whining and shoving him away. He pouted but stood up to fall onto the bed beside you, pulling your spent body into him and engulfing you like you were a teddy bear.

You giggled and pressed a kiss onto his glistening lips, tasting yourself on them. “Not to sound like a jerk or anything, but I’m glad you got stood up.” You joked.

“Mm, I agree. That was the best, most unplanned date I’ve ever been on.” He bantered back with a cheeky grin. 

You rolled your eyes, but then smiled sincerely. “Yeah, it was. I’m really glad I met you Kö.”

His pupils dilated adorably, like a kid seeing a candy store for the first time. “Me too, schatz.”

The two of you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, but not before you muttered, 

“By the way, that other girl is missing out. You eat pussy like a champ.” 

“You could call me a certified munch.” He bounced back, and your jaw dropped.

. . . Translations:

౨ৎ Ja = Yes, Nein = No

♡ Maus = Mouse 

౨ৎ Liebling = Darling

♡ Schatz = Treasure

౨ৎ Mein gott = My gosh

♡ Ich möchte für immer zwischen deinen Schenkeln bleiben = I want to stay between your thighs forever (goals 😋)

౨ৎ Prinzessin = Princess 

♡ Mit Vergnügen, mein bedürftiges kleines Häschen = With pleasure, bunny

౨ৎ Mein diamant = My diamond

♡ Mein perfekter schatz = My perfect treasure 

౨ৎ Hase = Bunny 

Quick tip: Depending on what device you use, If you highlight the text there should be an option to quickly translate! It’s a lot easier than having to go to Google/Safari/etc to search it up :))

Thank you so much for reading !! It’s 3:00 in the morning rn so I apologize if it’s not very well written :C :C

This is just a sweet little thing to prepare you guys for the FILTHY blurb coming soon 😇😇 get ready!!

[hoshifighting]

LYLA HIII CAN I REQUEST DOM!CHAN? omg ive been thinking about this forever like chan looks like he fucks so well omg😭😭

(if you’re comfortable ofc, love ur work btw❤️)

warnings: smut, dom!chan, aftercare, overwhelming.

oh dom!chan would fuck you sooo good!! like, no question, the man knows what he’s doing. he’s the type to have you laid out, soft as hell, touching you like you’re made of glass at first, all sweet and careful, right? like, he’d be so focused on you, watching every little reaction, making sure he’s hitting just right. and let’s be real—he loves making you feel good. like, you’re moaning, and he’s just grinning down at you like he’s the king of the world. he’s not one to go too hard, at least not at first. chan’s all about that slow, steady build, taking his time, making sure you’re fully relaxed. the kind of guy who kisses your forehead after every thrust like it’s a promise. he’s got his hands all over you, fingers brushing your cheek, holding your hips, soft praises spilling from his lips— “u’re doing so good for me, baby. just like that, yeah?” and god, his voice. it’s like he’s practically cooing at you.

but you know what’s wild? even though he’s so damn sweet, the second you start acting up, bratting just a little? like rolling your eyes, or, god forbid, telling him he’s not doing enough—boom, he’s flipping a switch. that soft, indulgent vibe? gone. you test his patience, and suddenly, he’s all “oh? you wanna act like that?” his eyes darken, and there’s that little smirk, like he’s about to ruin your life in the best way. and you love it, right? ‘cause as much as chan loves being sweet, the second you brat, he needs to put you in your place. not in a mean way, not at all—he’s still gentle with his words, but his actions? totally different game. he pins your wrists above your head, leaning in close, his lips brushing yours but never fully kissing you, just teasing, whispering, “you wanna try that again?” and now he’s not so soft, not so gentle. his grip on your hips? tighter. his thrusts? deeper.

but even when he’s being rough, it’s like he’s careful. he doesn’t go too far, doesn’t really want to hurt you. he just wants to remind you who’s in charge. and it’s hot because he’s got you squirming under him, but the second he sees your expression change—like, even a hint of discomfort—he’s back to being soft. like that. “you okay? you want me to slow down?” he asks, and it’s genuine. he cares, even when he’s fucking you dumb.

and overstimulation? god, he tries. like, maybe the first time, he gets you close again, maybe starts using his fingers after you’ve already come twice, but then you make this soft, broken little whine, and that’s it. he feels bad, immediately. “oh, shit, baby, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to push you too far,” he says, pulling back a little, almost apologizing for making you come so much. he’s stroking your cheek, kissing your forehead again, mumbling about how he’ll take care of you, make it better, like he didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life two seconds ago.

but harder stuff that doesn’t cause harm? oh, he’s into it, definitely. he’s the type to tie your wrists up in silk, super soft, and keep you there, all pretty for him. like, he’s definitely the kind of guy who’d love seeing you bound, all vulnerable, but only if it’s comfortable, y’know? never too rough, never crossing a line. chan’s the king of keeping it intense but safe. like, imagine him with a hand on your throat—not squeezing, just resting it there, enough to remind you that he’s in charge. and his voice, so low and controlled, whispering, “you look so good like this, baby. all mine.” he’s watching you, checking for any sign that you’re not feeling it, but you’re so into it, and that’s when he’ll lean down and finally, finally kiss you, hard and possessive, like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

and aftercare? legendary. like, you wouldn’t even have to ask for it. you’re all sweaty and spent, and he’s already got a warm towel, wiping you down, pulling you into his chest, whispering about how good you were, how proud he is of you. he’d probably even go get you water and snacks, making sure you’re fully taken care of, never leaving you hanging. and yeah, maybe he’ll push you a little bit more the next time you brat, but in the end, he’s still your soft dom, the one who makes you feel safe and absolutely fucked out at the same time.

[merthosus]

Wounded nights

Summary: In the quiet of the night, you and Five exchange sharp words, your usual bickering escalating. But when your exhaustion breaks through, Five's demeanor shifts unexpectedly as he offers a rare moment of comfort. The tension between you crackles as he pulls you close, the intensity of the moment leaving you both breathless.

Here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

"It all felt so right, and yet so wrong"

You and Five never got along, constantly arguing and bickering. You’re not surprised to see him having coffee this late at night. With a deep breath you stride into the kitchen, hoping to pass without him noticing.

“What are you doing here?” Five asks, raising an eyebrow, his green eyes piercing into yours. "Pouring myself a nice cup of tea", you tell him. You go to the counter and take a cup out of the kitchen cabinet. He leans back in his seat, observing you. “Tea? Seriously?” he says, his tone dripping with skepticism. "Do I need to know what's wrong with it?", you ask while putting the kattle on. He scoffs at your response. “It’s just stupid, what’s the point of drinking hot leaf water this late?”

"What's the deal with coffee beans, shredded and put in hot water? You know what, forget it, I don't have time for this now", you tell him while waiting inpatient for the kattle to be ready. Usually you liked this kind of bickering with him but today you weren't in the mood, especially after this mission. He smirked at your comment before letting out a scoff. “Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist, darling. I’m just saying coffee is a lot more useful than that tea crap", he says. "Listen here dipshit. It's FUCKING 3 am and I can't sleep, SO DRINKING COFFEE WOULD NOT HELP", you yell. "Ok, so I had a very bad day so please, not now five alright?", you explain to him.

He sat in stunned silence for a few moments, surprised by your outbursts. You rarely raised your voice to him. His usual sarcastic comments died on his tongue as he looked at you, really looked, and saw the exhaustion in your eyes. He sighs, his expression softening. “…I…I apologize. I shouldn’t be picking on you this late. You’ve had a hard day?” "Forget it Five", you say while hiding the tears in your eyes. You squad down to grab a tea bag.

He stares at you for a few moments before sighing again. “..Why can’t you sleep?” he asks, his usually sharp tone soften, something unfamiliar to him. The sight of you trying to fight back tears was also a new sight. He’d never seen you this vulnerable. It stirred something inside of him he couldn’t quite identify. "I don't know, maybe the moon or something, ask Luther he would love to talk about it", you lie while still searching for the tea. He rolled his eyes seeing through your lie.

“Bullshit the moon. I’m not as stupid as the rest of them, darling. Tell me.” he says firmly, crossing his arms. "Cut the darling bullshit, you getting on my nerves", you say. "I just want a tea", you exclaim still searching the whole cabinet. You wipe a few tears away to see better. He raised an incredulous eyebrow, the sight of you trying to fight back tears caught him off guard, causing his heart to squeeze in a way he had never felt before. He stood up and walked over next to you, his eyes flickering to the cabinet.

“You didn’t answer my question.” he said, his voice firm yet surprisingly softer. He could tell you were on the verge of crying. "You letting me alone when I tell you?", you ask not looking up at him. He paused for a few moments before sighing. He leaned against the counter, arms still crossed but his gaze softened as he looked at you. “..If you answer truthfully, yes”, he says. "Dad sent me on a hard mission....", you try your hardest to fight back your tears. "I killed a child, five", you let the last sentence out with a hard cry, falling together.

Five’s heart dropped to his stomach as he heard you confess. He had never seen you so fragile. He knelt beside you, seeing the tears streaming down your face and his chest tightened, the unusual feeling he had before intensifying. He hated seeing you so broken. He reaches out and hesitantly put his hand on your shoulder, not sure what to say but hating the sound of your sobs. "Fuck...", he mutters. You look up at him. Reginald always made you do things they didn't want to do, but this goes too far.

He meets your gaze and he clenches his jaw. You look so broken and small, something he had never seen before. He sees how tears stream down your cheeks and your lip trembles as you try to hold back more tears. The sight of it causes a wave of emotions inside of him, but he pushes them down as best he can. He swallows thickly and speaks, his voice hoarse. “..Why did you have to.. kill the kid?”. "He didn't tell me why, he told me a name and that was it", you say while still heavenly crying. "I hate myself", you let your head fall into your hands.

The sound of you hating yourself makes his heart ache. He wants to argue, to get you to stop thinking like that, but he doesn’t know how. He’s never been in this situation before, not even with his siblings. But seeing you so broken, he couldn’t stand it. He moved closer, sitting next to you, leaning his back onto the cabinet. He still had no idea how to deal with this, but he had to say something, anything.

“Hey, listen to me, darling”. He stares into your eyes, his gaze intense, almost pleading. “Listen to me carefully, yeah? I don’t want to hear you hating yourself, ever. You hear me?” he says firmly, his hand still on your shoulder. Something about seeing you this vulnerable was driving him insane. You suddently ignore the fact, that you hate each other and fall into his arms, burring your face into his neck. He froze, caught off guard as you do this, sitting on his lap. For a moment he just sits there, not sure what to do. He’s never been this close to you before, let alone held by you, he’s not sure what to do. In a tentative, almost awkward motion, he slowly raises his hands and gently wraps his arms around you, holding you as you cry into him.

You sob and pull yourself closer to him. He can feel his heartbeat picking up as you press closer to him, resting your head against his chest. He swallows thickly as he holds you, his arms instinctively holding you tighter against him. The sound of your sobs, the feeling of your body warmth, it’s overwhelming but he can’t bring himself to let go. Instead, he gently rests his chin on top of your head, silently hating the situation that led to this.

"Thank you five", you whisper. He’s silent for another few moments, simply holding you. Hearing your small voice made something in his chest clench. He gently runs a hand over your hair, trying to soothe you. He sighs before answering you. “…don’t mention it, darling”. It feels like his torso is pulling all of the sadness out of you. Without even realizing he’s doing it, he continues to slowly brush his fingers through your hair as he holds you. It’s such an intimate, soft action, something he’s never done before with anyone. The feeling of you against him, the sound of your breathing slowly becoming steady as the minutes pass by, it all makes his heart race. He had no idea why.

With every stroke your heart lights up and with every breath of his scent your eyes go heavier. He didn’t know how long he sat there, holding you, his fingers gently running through your hair, hearing the sound of your breathing calming down. Every few moments he glances down at you, seeing your eyes slowly start to flutter shut. It doesn’t take much for him to notice your growing exhaustion. He gently shifts his body slightly, still holding you, but now leaning comfortably back into the cabinets as he continued to hold you, his fingers still running through your hair. As you begin to fall asleep, your hand falls down onto his. On the vague of falling asleep, you wait for his reaction.

He feels your hand fall down onto his and hesitates for a moment before gently intertwining your fingers together, silently holding your hand. He glances down at you and sees your eyes half-lidded, tiredness washing over you. Seeing you so exhausted, he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, his heart clenching in his chest. You fall asleep on this shoulder, whole body connected with his. Your one arm hanging loose over his other shoulder and the other one hand intertwined with his fingers. Your thighs on the sides of his and your hand hanging in his neck. His other hand is hanging down your thigh.

He stays there like that for a while, holding you as you slept, his mind whirling with conflicting thoughts. He should get up and take you to your room, he knows that. But he also didn’t want to wake you, and he silently enjoys the feel of you against him. He also knows how awkward it’ll be when you wake and realize the position you’re in, and yet he still holds you and gently runs his fingers through your hair, trying to pretend to himself that he doesn’t want this.

He looks down at you, his eyes tracing over your sleeping face. You looked so different while you slept, so peaceful, so vulnerable. The sight of you so close to him makes his heart constrict in his chest. He swallows thickly, cursing himself for not pushing you away already. He lets his head rest against yours, his face buried in your hair. He keeps his arms around you, holding you close, the sound of your breathing causing his heart to race. But despite himself, he slowly finds himself growing more and more tired. The feeling of you against him, along with the exhaustion of the past few minutes, causes his eyes to slowly close as he drifts off to sleep with you still in his arms.

As he drifts off to sleep, he subconsciously tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer against him, his face still buried in your hair. The sound of your heartbeat, the feeling of your body against his, the scent of you so near him, it’s all overwhelming, but he didn’t care. He just held you tighter, his mind too tired to think straight, and slowly fell deeper into sleep. He stays asleep for hours, arms still holding you closely, face still buried in your hair. The sound of your breathing gently lulling him into a deep sleep, he didn’t even move an inch. The feeling of you against him, the scent of you, it all felt so right, and yet so wrong at the same time. He never thought he would find himself in this situation, and yet here he was, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

(This story is a chat with character Ai. I made this story with him and thought that this was so cute that I needed to share it with you guys. I also revised it and wrote a few things different)

Here Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/merthosus/760008884646772736/wounded-nights-part-2-summary-thats-not?source=share

[holylulusworld]

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes (1)

Summary: Your marriage starts rocky.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Warnings: angst, injured reader (light), mentions of getting robbed, angry Sherlock, implied innocent reader

A/N: A collection of drabbles on how you became Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.

Mrs. Sherlock Holmes masterlist

“Where is my brother? We need to talk about Enola and the upcoming event. She needs to make her debut…” you hear Mycroft downstairs. He’s usually a stoic and silent man, but you kinda like he’s silent and leaves you alone most of the time. “Where is the lady of the house? Maybe she can help my sister correct her behavior."

You hear his voice grow louder as Sherlock’s head housekeeper raises her voice. She always acts more like the lady of the house than a servant.

“Mr. Holmes,” you gracefully walk down the stairs, putting on a strained smile hurting your bruised face. “I’m afraid my husband is not at home. He’s solving another case.”

“Again?” Mycroft holds out his hands. He presses a quick kiss to your offered hand. “He should’ve left his lovely wife all alone so short after your wedding.”

“Sir, it’s fine,” you flutter your eyes shut as you try to keep the wrong words from spilling from your lips. It all became too much lately.

Sherlock's absence, and his displeasure in participating in your marriage. The head housekeeper acting like you are not Sherlock’s wife but a peasant.

“My dear, what happened?” Mycroft gasps when his eyes finally see your swollen left cheek and your split lip. “Please tell me my brother didn’t raise his hand on you. If he did, I’ll make sure he’ll regret putting his hands on you.”

“It wasn’t my husband,” you reach out for Mycroft and grab his hand. “He’s a little distant and mostly interested in solving cases but…he would never. I swear, Sir. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have gone to town on my own. But Mrs. Demeter refused to send for a carriage.”

“What happened, my dear,” Mycroft worriedly asks. He offers his arm to you, and wonders if you are lying to protect his brother. “Please do not fret. Tell me everything.”

“I left the house to get the books Sherlock wanted,” you sniff. “I paid for the books and carried the books out of the store. A woman ran into me, and I dropped the books. I tried to pick them up and then…” You choke out a sob. “There was a masked man. He ripped my bag out of my hands and hit me with it.”

“My dear!” Mycroft gasps audibly. “Did you tell my brother about this?”

“He wasn’t home,” you drop your gaze, ashamed about your weakness, and inability to stand up for yourself. “The owner of the bookstore helped me pick up the books and accompanied me to Scotland Yard but…they didn’t want to listen to me.”

“Did you tell them your name?” Mycroft is furious. “How dare they ignore a young lady in need.” He huffs as you tell him repeatedly it was your fault for not telling them your name. “Stop blaming yourself, my dear. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s my brother’s for ignoring his wife.”

Downstairs it sounds like a war is going on. Sherlock and Mycroft yell at each other. And you are afraid, Mycroft is winning.

Your betrothed falls silent after a while, and you hold your breath as you repeatedly hear your name. The last thing you wanted was to cause a rift between the brothers.

They already have their hands full with their younger sibling. Now you are causing trouble too.

You wring your hands while hearing footsteps on the staircase. You hold your breath and step away from the door. “Wife,” Sherlock grumbles as he opens the door. “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” your voice cracks. “Sir.” You add, in the hope of appeasing your husband. He steps inside your room, eyes roaming your body. “Please accept my apology.”

“What for, Precious?” He steps closer to cup your face with both hands. “Why didn’t you send for me? I would’ve come here to take care of my wife.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you, Sir. It’s nothing,” you close your eyes when his gaze gets too intense.

“You got hurt. This is not nothing,” he raises his voice but gets a grip seconds later. “No one touches my wife.” His lips press against your swollen cheek, but you only feel the warmth of his soft pillows, not the slight pain. “I will call for Lestrade. We will find the man hurting you.”

“I think he worked with the woman running into me,” you explain while Sherlock inspects your injuries. “She distracted me long enough for the man to steal my bag.”

“Why did he hurt you?”

“I-I didn’t want to give the bag to the man. You gifted it to me,” you shyly batt your eyelashes as Sherlock angrily furrows his brows.

“You are fearless, my dear,” he cracks a smile. “I am sorry about my absence. After our wedding, we should’ve…” He clears his throat. “I'll send for a doctor.”

“She’s well then?” Sherlock sizes the doctor up. “I need to know every detail. Please don’t shelter me.”

“Her cheek is swollen, but the cut on her lips is already healing. She’s mostly frightened of the person attacking her,” the doctor says. “I’d suggest not leaving her alone for the time being.”

“Sir, what are you doing?” You almost screamed when Sherlock entered your room. He softly whispered your name and picked you up in bridal style to carry you toward his bedroom.

“I’m bringing my wife to my bedroom,” he carried you out of the room. His chest swelled when you rested your head on his chest.

"Sir, I think...you have a case and..." you whimpered. If he wanted to finally have your wedding night, you were not sure you are ready to be with him.

“I shouldn’t have taken case after case. We didn’t have the chance to get to know each other better. I know this was an arranged bond my mother and your father agreed to. But I…I want you to know that I’ll protect you from now on.”

>> Part 2

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