#Fear of losing what we could have had | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lokissweater · 3 months ago

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birds of a feather . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

{olympic figure skater!satoru gojo x olympic figure skater f!reader}

summary: you and satoru have known each other since childhood, two little birds navigating through life together as you shared one dream in common— to win gold at the olympics, you both a figure skating pair as you moved and performed and fell in love as the years went by, both balancing off a trembling tight rope and holding on to keep each other in place, a silent agreement that if you indulged and fell into the depths of the truth of what you were, you’d run the risk of losing your careers and each other, yours and satoru’s biggest fears. but you’re growing, and it’s getting harder to hold back… especially for satoru— that trembling tight rope on the verge of snapping in two.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, childhood best friends to lovers trope, cursing, DIABOLICAL ANGST BUT WITH HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE!, mentions of death and loss, mentions of injury and blood, FLUUUFFF, satoru loves loves loves you, SMUUUTT, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it y’all), creampie, pussy eating, dom satoru, pussy drunk satoru, DIRTY TALK, pet names, figure skating, the olympics, true love <3

word count: 22.3k (I KNOW PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE PLEASE—)

authors note: YYYOOOUUU GUUUYYSSS THIS ONE IS MY BABBBYYY AND IM CRYING NOW WRITING THIS LMFAOAOAO. i hope you all love it seriously i GLADLY worked day and night writing this and i’d do it all over again just to see y’all happy :) THANK YOU for your support it is UNREAL, and like always, I LOOVEEE YOUUU MWAAHHH <333

you first met satoru when you were six at the skating rink.

he was only a year older than you, both of your mothers coincidentally signing you up for the same youth ice skating lessons for beginners, meeting and chatting it up seeing as you and satoru were the youngest in age out of the rest of the parents there and their children, you both automatically put together by your coach and separated from the older kids to do warm ups.

and even though the age difference was only a year, satoru at first treated you like a little helpless tiny thing who needed assistance in everything— the cute pink ribbons in your hair doing you an injustice and further implementing the image of a little girl who had no clue of what was going on around her, thinking you were cutesy and he was determined to be your little knight in shining armor when the time came.

until he saw you skate.

what satoru didn’t know, was that you were a prodigy— related to one of the most famous ice skaters in olympic ice skating history, akira, as her talent was blessedly passed down to you through your fruitful system and the lucky processes of genetics— chosen as you barely even had to be taught, you catching everything right away by the coach without any sort of slip and fall… unlike satoru who was clumsily struggling to even glide through the ice without wobbling.

and little satoru was astonished by you and your talent, his first impression of you drastically changing by the end of the first lesson as he shakily slid across the ice over to where you were, patiently doing little turns on the ice while you waited for your mother to finish up talking to another lady (it was satoru’s mother).

“hi!” he had greeted you, a huge goofy smile on his face as you slowed down and looked at him, returning a shy smile of your own.

“hi.”

“i’m satoru!” he extended a hand, eyes shooting wide as he suddenly lost his balance and slipped forward, on the brink of face planting on the ice as his hands quickly flailed out and gripped the edge of the rink to save himself.

you giggled, tiny hands reaching and holding his arm steady as he tried to regain his balance.

“are you okay?” your shy voice asked, and he grinned through his wobbling.

“yeah! i’m okay! don’t worry!”

but he still couldn’t stabilize himself.

“maybe we should sit on the bench?” you suggested sweetly. “so you don’t fall…”

“okay!”

you gripped him as hard as you could (which really wasn’t a lot for a six year old) and slowly moved with him on the ice, supporting him until you were both out of the rink and seated on the bleachers.

“what’s your name?” he chirped, his hands clutching on the edge of the bench as he leaned forward and looked at you kindly, legs swinging.

“y—y/n.”

“nice!” he cheesed, looking at you. “i saw you skate. you’re really good!”

“t—thank you.” you mumbled, shy and alarmed that a boy was talking to you.

“when did you start skating?”

you looked at him confusedly. “um.. today?”

his eyes bulged.

“hah?! today?!”

you jumped at his outburst, cheeks pink as you quickly nodded.

“wowww!…” he gushed with stars in his eyes. “that’s great! i saw you doing turns and things. i can barely move on the ice… it’s slippery.”

“well—” you peeked up at him shyly. “my—my aunt taught me some stuff… but not a lot.”

“you have someone in your family that skates?” he asked excitedly with huge blue eyes. “how cool! hopefully i can catch up to you and at least move…”

“that’s okay...” you smiled. “i know you will.”

“really?!” he gushed again before leaning back, nodding his head cutely. “if you think so, then i know so!”

and you giggled at him, your timid wall slowly crumbling down at his bubbly and kind personality as he was a chatterbox and talked to you about anything that had to do with olympic ice skating— him knowing so much about it and nearly screaming his head off and panicking when he found out that your aunt was none other than akira, now knowing exactly why you were so good at skating in the first place.

satoru looked up to you. so much so that it was comical— seeking your approval over the following years during lessons and not even listening to the damn coach himself as he listened more to you, wanting you to teach him how to do bunny hops or backward crossovers and giving a big fat attitude to anyone else who tried to coach him, whining and snoring away until you and your little bows skated over to him to teach him.

and because of that you spent a lot of time with satoru in and out of lessons, even more than you ever spent with your own friends at school as you clung to him at all times— him cheering and encouraging you on when you were shy in certain situations, and you teaching him everything you could about skating and bringing him little bags of strawberry gummy puffs since he had the biggest sweet tooth you had ever seen, you both cemented and stubbornly attached to the hip with neither wanting to let go.

and when your mother’s planned a little playdate at the local outdoor ice skating rink on a chilly december day— an enormous christmas tree sitting tall and glorious by the rink with twinkling star-shaped fairy lights and jingle bells surrounding the plaza, you and satoru spinning each other around and dancing and giggling over the murmur of classic christmas songs, they saw the potential… an idea sparking in their heads amongst their cooing and picture taking.

you and satoru were both originally put into the ice skating world to train and be independent professional skaters, olympic athletes to be more specific when the time came.

but that concept quickly changed the second you met.

now— you and satoru were an olympic ice skating pair, the subject materializing when your mother’s pulled you out from those simple ice skating lessons (you both already way past getting the basics down since your skill combined with you teaching satoru had you both surpassing the class) and paying for a professional couples figure skating coach to get you guys started now and early.

and the both of you were over the moon, especially satoru, as he absolutely adored you and begged his mother literally every fucking day if he could go over to your house or over to the ice skating rink with you to dance, you doing the same and the two of you crying and wailing on the floor whenever times wouldn’t work out and plans fell through, your mother’s having to give in and drag you to each other’s houses so you would both stop crying.

when akira found out you were officially figure skating, she nearly drove into the side of a building speeding over to your house from being out of the country for so long competing.

“is it true?!” she burst through the doors, your mother rolling her eyes after being startled half to death over her bizarre behavior. “is my little niece gonna be a figure skater like me?!”

you gasped excitedly upon seeing her, getting up from your spot on the rug and running over to akira’s open arms, leaving your coloring book and crayons behind as she swung you around.

“she started when she was six you know that…” your mother grumbled, folding various kitchen towels.

“but you just told me now that she’s not independent!” akira countered, setting you down and holding you out at arms length, eyes wide and eager. “—but partner figure skating! like me!”

she shook you. “where is he?! your partner! is he here? is he your age? is he nice?”

you perked up and looked over to the kitchen. “oh mommy! satoru should come and meet—”

“his name is satoru? oh my goodness how cuteeee!” she cooed, pinching your cheeks. “is he handsome? do you like him? do you have a crush on him—”

your little cheeks blazed as your mother threw a kitchen towel at her.

“she’s eight aki! jesus christ.”

“love has no limits.” akira wiggled a finger, and you giggled.

your mother called satoru’s place soon after, his mother excitedly conversing over the other line about how the akira was finally back in town and how satoru was gonna lose his mind once he saw her— you knowing he was the biggest fan and sometimes told you facts during lessons that you didn’t even know about your own aunt.

and when they finally did arrive, satoru was stiff— frozen in place with tight arms at his sides by the living room as his alarmed big blue eyes looked at akira with a sickly pale face, you snickering behind him.

“hi satoru!” akira greeted, leaning down with her hands on her knees to look at him at eye level. “it’s nice to meet you! y/n tells me you like my skating?”

“u—uhuh.” he responded dumbly, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing, knowing satoru would cry and whine about it later if he heard you.

“that’s great! i’m happy you skate too… and with my niece i should say!” she spoke kindly, ruffling his snowy colored hair up and standing upright, placing her hands on her hips and looking like a straight freaking superhero in satoru’s eyes. “you wanna compete in the olympics?”

“uh huh.”

a laughing breath hurled from your throat and your cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, clasped hands still over your mouth and face going red from how hard you were trying to keep it in.

“that’s what i like to hear.” she smiled, a shiny impressive one as satoru still stood there in a stuck daze.

“work hard okay? the both of you. so you can catch up to me someday, yeah?”

your hands slowly fell from your mouth then, eyes filled with admiration and determination as you both eagerly nodded, looking at each other hopefully.

“you think—” satoru stammered, looking at akira. “you think we can… win three gold medals like you?”

“oh absolutely!” she shrugged. “i don’t doubt it at all.”

you and satoru gushed, glittering little eyes as you stared up cutely at akira, her giving you both a silly grin.

“how long have they been doing partner work?” she asked your mother suddenly, watching the way you and satoru chattered then excitedly about the actual possibility of competing for the olympics someday.

“mmm, i wanna say for about a year and a half? maybe two?” she looked over at satoru’s mother, who nodded in agreement. “they’re with a couple’s figure skating coach right now.”

akira hummed and shifted her gaze back down between the two of you.

“i’m training them from now on.”

both mothers froze, eyes wide as they stared at her.

you and satoru hadn’t even realized what she said, still caught up in your little bubble of the olympics and metals and competitions until your mother caught your attention.

“did you hear?”

you shook your head. “hear what!”

“akira wants to coach you and satoru.”

his jaw dropped and he nearly passed out on the floor, you quickly grabbing his shoulders as he reeled over.

“are— are you sure?” your mother continued, looking at her sister now. “aren’t you busy? i thought you were only here for the weekend.”

she waved her off. “i need a break from skating for a little… at least until the next olympics.”

akira turned to you then and smiled warmly. “and i wanna coach my little niece and her new buddy! if that’s okay?”

“yesyesyesyes!—”

both you and satoru bounced up and down and cheered, arms up as you tackled and hung off of akira like a jungle gym, her laughing and smiling big at your enthusiasm.

akira was the most important figure in your life, right next to satoru as she became a mother figure to the both of you as well as your mentor.

and training with her was not easy— your age not an excuse at all whatsoever in her eyes to not learn proper figure skating moves and technique, saying it would only serve you right in the end if you started adapting your bodies to it now rather than later.

and like most things, akira was right. but even though practices were grueling and tough to the point where you had to drag satoru across the ice to get up, she always tried to make them fun in the end— cracking jokes and teaching you guys silly little tricks that you could do with each other on the ice that she figured out over her years of skating with her partner, taking you both out for ice cream frequently after and telling you of her travels competing around the world, the people she’d met, and the titles she’d won— all things that were you and satoru’s ultimate dream as you listened eagerly.

by the time you were twelve and satoru was thirteen, it was obvious you guys were meant to be olympic athletes together.

“you need to pick your leg a little further up on the spin, toru.”

he stuck his tongue out. “says who.”

“says me.” you poked his cheek. “and i’m pretty sure aki told you before she left too.”

“yes ma’am!” he nodded, gliding a bit further away from you on the ice before picking his momentum up and reaching you, him bending his knees and wrapping his arms around your torso as you both went into fast spins, one leg extended for the both of you as your arms gripped over his shoulders— practicing the routine akira had given you for your upcoming competition.

“yeah like that!” you smiled, spins gradually slowing down and satoru coming back up from his bend until you both stood still on the ice. “good job toru!”

he grinned and ruffled your hair. “thanks!”

“mhm!” you responded, turning and skating away to the edge of the rink to hide the blush that was rising in your cheeks.

“what?!” he whined. “where are you going? do i stink?”

“no!” you laughed, shaking your head. “just the usual sweat and B.O.”

“aw no!” he quickly skated to the edge of the rink and out before flying for his duffel bag. “i hate being a man i hate puberty this is ridiculous—”

“i’m kidding im kidding!” you called from across the ice, cackling when he stopped and whipped his head over, glaring at you. “you’re fine toru— not stinky.”

“well you’re stinky for putting me in distress how about that?” he huffed, an eventual smile playing at his lips as he put down his duffel bag and went inside the rink again.

akira was currently on her way to compete at the olympics for her fourth gold medal in partner figure skating, you and satoru having no doubt in your minds that she was going to absolutely clear everyone else there and get it, as she’s never gotten silver or bronze or anything lower than that.

“when do we fly to see aki again?” satoru called from across the ice, gliding to and fro in figure eights. “don’t say tomorrow morning because i haven’t started packing yet heh… oops.”

you giggled. “it is tomorrow morning, dummy.”

“no!” he stopped and shoved his hands in his hair. “i haven’t even started planning my outfits! oh i was gonna take so many pictures what am i supposed to do now—”

you laughed loudly and skated back over to him, hands wrung behind your back as you looked at him cheekily. “you’re silly toru. outfits for what? literally just show up.”

“it’s not everyday we leave the country y/n!” he whined. “i wanted to sport my best and look cool, dang it.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted your hand, patting his head.

“i’ll show up in pajamas and you show up in yours, and we’ll call it a day. hm?”

he grinned.

“matching? or seperate? and what color? plaid?”

“toru!”

he laughed and skated past you, nudging your shoulder with his in the process. “i’m just messing with youuu, matching obviously!”

satoru came back around, reached up and straightened the ribbons in your hair, little white bows sitting pretty as a blush rose to his cheeks when he was done.

“wanna run it three more times and call it?” he suggested. “i wanna make sure i get what you told me down before we go.”

you smiled and quickly nodded, taking satoru’s extended hand and skating together to first position.

watching akira win gold in person for the first time in your life was an experience you’ll never forget.

and she did it fucking beautifully.

with every precise move, with every articulate angle you and satoru screamed and yelled like crazy people in front of the rink while waving around your countries tiny flags, cheering with fat tears rolling down your faces when she successfully landed each time, holding each other so tight with mushed up cheeks throughout her routine with her partner and still in anxiousness when the time came for revealing final scores.

no one could skate like her. absolutely no one as she speedily glided across the ice and spun, prepped herself for the hardest most impressive turns you had ever seen in your life, and performed a quadruple axel rotation in the air all on her own— things that have always earned her the highest scores for three successive olympic years.

and four now— because when akira and her partner stepped up on that podium, you and satoru had to basically be yanked back by your mothers with the way you both tried to jump over the edge of the rink to her, her standing there like a beacon of light on the first place podium, a gold medal hung rightfully around her neck with flowers in her arms as she smiled so so big and happily, her eyes not once leaving you and satoru.

eventually when the ceremony was over, amongst all of the buzz and the crowd roaring and picture taking— akira quickly skated over to the two of you and leaned on the edge of the rink.

“akiiii!” you both wailed and flung your arms around her neck, her giggling and hugging you both back as best as she possibly could despite the mass amount of bouquets in her hands.

“did i do okay?!” she yelled over the noise.

you both pulled back and looked at her like she was insane.

“did you do okay?!” you gawked.

“aki— you won a fucking gold medal!” satoru yelled.

“HAH!” she laughed loudly. “don’t say that word in front of your mommy satoru she’ll chop my head off and kill me!”

you both giggled uncontrollably.

akira leaned her head in then and you and satoru followed through, all three foreheads resting against each others.

“listen to me for a second.“ she started. “you guys are birds of a feather, okay? you need to stick together and fly together as one.”

she let you both go and dropped the bouquets she was holding on the icy floor before placing a hand on yours and satoru’s outer cheeks, bringing you in. “don’t fight. don’t separate. don’t leave each other. you need to keep each other and what you have safe.”

you both quickly nodded, tears funnily gathering at the corners of your eyes at what she was saying, and she smiled.

“yes partner figure skating is about chemistry and technicality, but it’s about love… and sometimes just that. without genuine love, nothing will click.” she let your cheeks go and grabbed her shiny gold medal, holding it up. “this will be yours. i promise you.”

akira put down her medal, wiping both yours and satoru’s wet cheeks. “birds of a feather. stick together. keep each other safe. do you understand?”

the two of you sniffled and nodded.

“and i need to stop cussing in front of you guys during practices, don’t i?!” she smiled warmly, and you and satoru shook your heads frantically.

“no keep doing it!—”

“it’s funny please!—”

ever since akira told you that, it became you and satoru’s thing.

before and after every competition, with every hello and every goodbye at the beginning and end of the day, throughout the hours randomly whenever you both felt like it, you’d lock pinkies and reiterate ‘birds of a feather’ before kissing your thumbs and locking your promise in place— another one of the many other ways you’d show that you loved each other.

but whether it was platonically or romantically remained unknown until you both hit high school.

perhaps it had always been romantically… that you weren’t exactly sure of. but the way you and satoru had been treating each other since you were literally the age of six, made the technicalities of what it was blurry and a little confusing— for you couldn’t even remember when it was that you started loving satoru.

maybe it was that very first day when he skated over to you, wobbly and clumsy with a cheesy smile.

and as if it wasn’t already confusing enough of what the two of you were, the way you acted made it ten times worse.

but you’d been that way since forever— embracing each other a little longer than you should, innocently kissing each others cheeks and heads and hands, calling each other pet names and being each other’s dates to every single school dance—

but it was all harmless. not a single bad thought behind it and doing it like a reflex.

it was like you both were line balancing across the thinnest tight rope known to mankind— flimsy and unsteady, always on the verge of toppling over and falling completely into the darkening depths of the truth of what you were, but catching each other just before you did to regain balance back on the rope.

neither of you said it, but if you and satoru ever dared to be anything more than friends, and if something were to happen where you had to break up— you’d lose your first love, your best friend, and your entire career all in one.

the consequences were too drastic— you both knew that.

and you didn’t want to break your promise… so you acted blind to it.

by the time you were seventeen and satoru was eighteen, akira started training you for the international skating union competition to earn a spot for the olympics.

well— she actually started when you were about fourteen, but as the years progressed, her coaching and critiques got increasingly more difficult and nitpicky as well as the moves she taught you, wanting you both to build endurance to it and perfect it so that by the time you reached the age requirement for the olympics— it would be easier to train for it and be formidable competitors against the other pairs.

you and satoru wanted to be olympians more than anything else in your lives, and akira knew just how important this was for the both of you— making it her absolute mission to help accomplish solely that as she saw herself through the two of you.

your dreams were just like hers, and she respected and nurtured the fact with everything that she had.

“up! aaand up! and take her— throw— land oh shit—”

just as you had landed a semi complex throw jump, you lost balance and landed right on your ass, sliding across the ice on your side.

it was rare when you fell, and you absolutely despised when you did.

“fuck!” satoru quickly skated over to you and knelt down. “are you okay?!”

“why can’t i land that man?” you whined, covering your eyes.

akira smoothly traveled over to you both.

“it’s okay! we just learned it today sweets like— right now… you’ll have it down in the next five minutes.” satoru smiled softly, carefully helping you up on your skates and checking you over.

“don’t overly punish yourself, y/n.” akira reached and pinched your cheek. “i love that you’ve always been so serious about your technique, but you have to leave room for error my love or else you’ll choke yourself out.”

satoru ran a soothing hand along your back and you smiled cutely up at him, his heart jittering so much from it that he had to quickly retract his arm.

you nodded, always taking satoru’s and akira’s words seriously like inscriptions to a stone wall. “okay!”

he grinned and kissed the side of your head before taking your hand and leading you to first position like always.

akira smirked.

“are you guys together yet!” she blurted from across the ice and you both choked as she skated over.

“are we— are we—” you stammered.

“what?” she breathed out, placing her hands on her hips. “are you at least in love?”

satoru’s blue eyes bulged open with a furious pink tint to both of your cheeks.

“aki!” you whined, embarrassed. “stop it—”

“have you guys at least gone on one date?”

satoru pouted. “no.”

“i’m—” you played with your fingers. “i’m going on one today—”

“you’re what?!” he whipped his head in your direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“yeah…” you looked at him. “i’ve never gone on one and some guy at school asked me so i— i just thought—”

you thought it’d do you some good, since the one you wanted you couldn’t really have.

“are you actually..?” satoru trailed off, an unfamiliar strike of something in his chest making him a little upset.

but he knew damn well what it was.

“but—” akira stared at you wide eyed, pointing at satoru. “but it’s— it’s supposed to be—”

“aki!” satoru quickly grabbed her arm and lowered it, eyes snapping to you next. “is it that one guy you told me about? from your english class?”

“uh huh.” you fidgeted. “he asked me again and i felt bad saying no so i— said yes…”

satoru swallowed, nodding.

“oh you big dummies!” akira groaned. “we’ll talk about this later or else i’m gonna go into fucking cardiac arrest from frustration—”

she skated off to the edge of the rink and out, leaning on it from the outside with her head dramatically hung.

you both got into starting position, but you faltered when you noticed satoru was oddly quiet and stiff.

“…toru?”

he blinked down at you. “huh?”

“you okay?”

“oh!— yeah.” he smiled weakly. “i’m fine baby.”

“you sure—”

“what time is your date?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek. “it’s a bit after this... i told him to just give me time to shower and get ready.”

“if he can’t accept you stinky then he’s not for you.” he shook his head in distaste. “he’s already failing in my eyes sweets absolutely flunking. maybe you should cancel it? yeah i say cancel it—”

you laughed, heart in your throat as your eyes gleamed up at him. “i can barely accept you stinky so i wouldn’t blame him—”

“hey!” he placed an exaggerated hand on his chest. “it’s not my fault i literally put my heart and soul out on the ice just for you to skate all over me—”

you gasped offendedly. “i don’t skate all over you—”

“do too!”

“do not!”

“do to—”

“you guys!” akira called. “you know i love it when you guys love on each other it makes me so happy and envision your wedding but right now we have to grind!”

you both froze up and snapped your heads in her direction with red faces, whining.

“aakkiii!—”

you practiced what you had of the routine a couple of more times, a few new moves and jumps added after each run until akira called it a day upon noticing you and satoru were practically sweating your asses off and messing up several times out of exhaustion.

“good job today you guys!” she smiled, patting you both on your shoulders. “i feel like the next time we meet we’ll have the choreography down... from there we just need to perfect it and you should be good for the next competish, okay?”

you both nodded and thanked her, sweet smiles on your faces as she reached up and pinched a side of both your cheeks.

“my little babies.” she cooed. “oh how you’ve grown! you guys were so little when we started now satoru is huge man jesus christ—”

she lifted her hand and reached up to measure satoru’s height from his forehead, her passing it over the top of her head and eyes widening at the huge gap.

he laughed and puffed up his chest. “i got big and strong too aki see?” he flexed an arm. “see? eh?”

“that you did!” she laughed brightly, ruffling up his hair. “the strongest.”

you giggled and skated over to the edge of the rink to pack up, internally panicking a little that you guys went overtime and it was almost time for your date.

“satoru..” akira whispered, looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren’t listening. “what’s going on? you still haven’t asked her out? i thought you said you were gonna do it.”

“no..” he mumbled. “but we can’t. and she knows that too so— so what am i supposed to do—”

she gawked. “do you not see what’s happening?! she’s gonna go on a date with someone else! off with this stupid fear you guys have already seriously.”

“we caan’tt aki.” he pushed sadly. “it’s too risky.”

“but it’s not though!” she threw her arms out. “you guys have known each other since practically birth i feel like if it wasn’t meant to be you would’ve separated by now!”

satoru gnawed at his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained to the way your bows moved in your hair as you swung your duffel bag over yourself, smiling softly once he realized you had kindly packed his things for him too as you sat on the bench and waited for him to take you home.

akira sighed.

“it’s not my place to tell you guys what to do… but love has no limits. you know that.”

he nodded, smiling weakly at her as they skated out of the rink and prepared to lock up, akira hugging you both goodbye with a family kiss to your cheeks and you separating ways with her for the day, but not before her reminding you guys of practice tomorrow and that she loved you over her shoulder.

satoru was dreading you going on your date as he drove— the both of you normally talking about random things like always but his mind unable to stray from the fact that you were actually giving some random dingbat a chance.

it was rare when either of you would talk to or date other people, never even as your heads have always been so focused on figure skating and competitions… but also on each other— taking care and loving one another that you never needed anybody else since you were everything to satoru and satoru to you, and you were both confident that absolutely no one could ever step up to that level.

so why were you going on a date?

but he shouldn’t be like this. he knew that. there was a silent agreement between the two of you to never fall off that thin tight rope and keep each other balanced. and you were allowed to see and date whoever you wanted— something that he probably should do as well to try and get over the fact that you’d never really be his.

satoru pulled up to your driveway and shifted his gear into park.

“thank you toru!” you smiled sweetly, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured. “can i— can i come in with you? and hang while you get ready?”

you quirked a brow. “i thought that’s what we were already doing silly.”

“okay well invite me woman!” you both got out of the car and walked up the steps to your front door. “you can’t just assume. what if i was busy? what if i also had a date? hm?”

you gave him a sly grin as you twisted in your keys to unlock the door. “do you?”

“… no.”

you giggled and pushed open the door, the both of you immediately clasping your hands over your mouths to keep your laughs in at the sight of your mother sprawled out on the couch dead asleep with drool coming out of her mouth, the tv softly playing in the background as you quietly shut the door, went up the stairs and into your room.

satoru sat on your desk chair lazily while you quickly hopped in the shower to get ready for your stupid date, staring at the framed photographs on your nightstand that all consisted of you and him over the years, smiling softly at his favorite— a picture of the two of you when you were babies, cheek to cheek with huge smiles at the park as you held ice cream cones in each of your hands, satoru more than sure akira was the one who took that picture.

the sound of your door clicking shut pulled him from his thoughts as you walked in, drying your pretty hair with your little fuzzy towel and throwing it in the hamper once you were done.

“oh! i was gonna show you! i got these ribbons the other day—” you got down on your knees and looked under your bed, sticking a hand in and pulling out a white box as you picked it up and shuffled with your knees closer to satoru— sitting back on your ankles.

“—i was running out of ribbon so i got these!” you held up the box and satoru took it, examining the various pastel colors with warm eyes. “some of them are polka dotted and i thought that was cute.”

“it is sweets!” he agreed.

satoru loved the ribbons in your hair, and you’d always wear them without fail because you knew just how much he did.

“i wanna start wearing bows too.” he wiggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.

“are you saying you wanna steal my brand toru?” you picked up a blue roll of ribbon from the box, a color that matched satoru’s eyes. “thought you were an honest man?”

he gasped. “i am an honest man! is it not obvious enough when i help you with your math homework? when i sacrifice my dignity and text you answers during your tests?”

you giggled and unrolled a strand of ribbon. “not when you eat all of my sweets that you actively dig through my room for—”

“but they’re always the strawberry gummy puffs!” he whined. “they make me a slut.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and stood, grabbing your little scissors and snipping off a piece of blue ribbon from the roll, stepping in front of satoru and leaning.

“watcha doing?” he asked, placing his hands on your waist.

“i’m putting a little bow in your hair before i leave!”

he hummed. “don’t think it’ll look as good on me as they do on you.”

you blushed, taking little pieces of white hair from the top of his head and wrapping the ribbon around, tying it the same way you’ve been doing for yourself since you were the age of nine.

you took a step back once you were finished and laughed. “you look cute toru!”

he raised a silly brow. “do i still look big and strong?”

“big and strong and pretty—”

“please don’t go.”

you stilled.

“what?”

satoru looked down, his bangs hiding his gorgeous eyes as he did.

“on your date.” he mumbled. “don’t go.”

you placed your hands softly on his shoulders, and his hold tightened a little around your waist.

“why?”

“because like i said if he doesn’t accept you stinky then he can’t have you when you smell like vanilla—”

“toru...” you spoke sternly, softly. “why not?”

you didn’t know why you were pushing it so much… maybe you were trying to see if you could get it out of him— if he had the will to actually say it unlike you…

and you hoped to god he would say it.

he slowly lifted his head and propped his chin up on your tummy, a sour expression on his face as he puckered his lips to the side like a little fish.

“dunno…” he muttered, his gaze flickering to yours and a sense of guilt swarming his chest at the uneasy look you had, his face relaxing as he sighed.

“sorry.” he smiled sheepishly, pulling back and letting go of your waist. “i’m kidding you have every right to—”

“m’not going.” you mumbled as you slid your hands away, looking down and playing with your fingers.

“huh?” he furrowed his brows. “no baby go you should go—”

“i don’t want to.”

you never did in the first place. you had foolishly thought that letting someone else in like this would be good for you and help you establish some sort of… barrier with satoru so you weren’t always suffering so fucking much.

but you were absolutely stupid for that.

all you’ve ever wanted was satoru, and doing something to pull you away from the type of relationship you had with him (whether platonic or romantic you had no freaking clue), was not only hurting you, but hurting him.

you didn’t need anyone else, truly. all you needed was satoru and his silly smile and dramatic antics— to spend time with just him and skate and eat dinner together after practices every night while watching horror movies, laughing so much over his screams that your stomach hurt while he whined about how you were making fun of him.

that’s all you needed… just satoru.

regardless if there was something more in question.

“you don’t want to?” he repeated softly. “why?”

“you know why, toru…”

you had said it so softly he barely caught it, but he did, his breath hitching in his throat.

that was the closest you two had ever gotten to acknowledging it.

you both were silent for a moment, the soft murmur of your tv downstairs filling the void as you looked at each other, tense and waiting for either of you to say something… anything.

but it was like the gravity of the foreseeable consequences settled onto your shoulders, and the pair of you could only sadly smile.

satoru stuck his pinky finger out towards you then.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured.

you breathed out a little through your nose and looped your pinky with his, nodding.

“birds of a feather.”

he kissed his thumb and you did the same before locking the promise.

for the rest of the night, you and satoru watched a bunch of shitty unknown movies to try and see who would break and laugh first— you feeling bad that you had to cancel so last minute on that guy from your english class, but not regretting it at all as you watched satoru scarf down two slices of pizza in one sitting and nearly throw up, you almost falling off the bed from laughing so much and him having to catch you midway down and pull you back up, saying that he was your hero and therefore you should give him your last stash of strawberry gummy puffs as a reward.

it was nearly two am when you and satoru finally settled down, both sprawled over each other on the bed as you stared up at the ceiling and talked about literally anything that came to your minds— stubbornly fighting off sleep for whatever unknown reason in the dark.

“you know this is aki’s last olympics right?” you spoke softly, your arm propped up as you watched the way satoru played with your fingers.

“yeah..” he replied. “i don’t really know how to feel about that.”

“me neither.” you shook your head. “but she said it came at a perfect time because she’d been wanting to retire for a while.”

and now it was yours and satoru’s turn to try and fill the legacy she had built.

he hummed, delicately interlacing your fingers together as the outline of it through the darkness made you blush and smile, the nooks between his digits blessedly made entirely just for you as your fingers slotted perfectly in each spot every time.

and satoru silently vowed for the millionth time in his life that he would always be your hero and keep you safe, a promise that was already tied into your birds of a feather contract, but needing to repeat it to himself anyways while he listened to the sound of your voice talk about your excitement for the upcoming olympics.

and my god were you excited, the both of you— looking forward to seeing akira gracefully take home her fifth fucking gold medal like she always did with no repercussions, seeing her fans and the mass amounts of support she got every year with bouquets and teddy bears and picture taking, but also looking forward to spending even more time with her— for not just practices… but for forever, even more than you already did now as you two were greedy and just loved akira.

you were looking forward to forever, the three of you.

until akira’s accident.

“oh my god i’m gonna throw up—”

satoru hurled over just as you both stepped onto the bleachers at the olympic arena, you laughing and placing supporting hands on his shoulders as you followed your mother and satoru’s to your designated place by the front.

“toru i told you you’d make yourself sick if you didn’t leave that damn dessert table alone.”

“there were cinnamon rolls baby. cinnamon rolls how on earth could i possibly just walk by a platter of cinnamon rolls—”

“okay!” you giggled, carefully leading him to sit down and ruffling his hair once you settled. “i get it! you love cinnamon rolls.”

“not as much as i love you—”

“yuck!” you stuck your tongue out and pushed him away by his cheek, him laughing loudly as he shooed your arm away and grinned.

“toru— this is the last time we’re gonna be sitting here in the bleachers watching aki.” you mentioned. “isn’t that fucking nuts?”

“now i’m gonna cry and throw up.”

“no!” you giggled and nudged his shoulder. “then you’ll make me cry.”

he smiled and leaned over to plant a quick kiss to your cheek, reaching up and fixing the bows in your hair before looking straight ahead, his sparkling blue eyes staring at the rink.

the crowd roared suddenly and a mix of big and tiny flags of several individual countries waved in the air as you and satoru jumped and screamed when akira glided out with her skates and glittery dress, a huge dazzling smile on her face as she waved at the crowd, her eyes scanning around quickly before they finally landed on you and satoru.

as if she wasn’t already smiling enough, it grew bigger at the sight of you both practically over the fucking rink calling her name, her blowing you both a kiss and connecting her hands together to form a little bird, fluttering it up funnily and making you laugh before spinning around and going to starting position with her partner.

“oh she’s gonna wipe again.” satoru breathed out. “wipe absolute buttcheeks.”

you cackled as you both watched her routine— incredibly fast paced and technical, filled with spins and throw jumps and lifts as she made it known that it was her last year and wanted to leave with a mark, you and satoru absolutely mesmerized by the choreography as a dramatic symphony of a classical piece drummed through your ears by the speakers.

each move was executed beautifully, you and satoru at the edge of your damn seats as akira’s partner lifted her by the arms to settle over his shoulders into a split formation— halfway through the routine already.

“maybe we could do a move like that for when we compete!” you suggested over the music. “i feel like technically it could—”

a hand flew over your mouth as you watched akira topple and slam to the ground upon coming down from her split lift, the spinning blade of her partner slicing through her abdomen as her head nastily collided with the ice— the crowd screaming in terror.

“oh my god!—” your chest moved frantically and you and satoru looked at each other, horrified faces as you watched the backside of her limp body on the ground surrounded by paramedics, her partner hovering over her in complete and absolute distress.

and there was so much blood.

blood that pooled all around her figure and stained her shimmering dress, blood that wouldn’t stop fucking spreading as a stretcher finally made it out on the ice.

“baby.” satoru’s voice shook. “why isn’t aki moving.”

“i— i don’t know—”

“aki!”

you both snapped out of your shocked daze and screamed over the rink and jumped, shoes slipping against the ice as the two of you tried to reach her through your panicked tears and calls, security speeding through and pulling you both back as you watched the paramedics lift her frail body onto the stretcher and away from the rink.

“that’s—” you sucked in a sharp sob. “that’s my aunt please let us go—”

“you need to stay out of the rink—”

“fuck you!”

satoru shoved security away and grabbed your arm, wishing you had your skates on as you both practically crawled over to where akira was being carried out, not giving a single shit about the way your mothers yelling demanded you back as security had to literally pull you and satoru by the ankles, further and further away from the scene and away from akira until the only thing left was her pool of sickly crimson blood in front of you, you and satoru wailing.

akira died at the hospital later that night.

the collision of her head against the ice brought such blunt force trauma that it caused irreversible brain damage, and with the amount of blood that she was already losing from the laceration of the blade— those elements combined didn’t give her a single fighting chance at survival, her fate sealed from the moment her body hit the ground.

it was completely unexpected… an incident like that had never happened in not just olympic partner figure skating, but figure skating competitions as a whole— the severity of the situation so grave that the complex move akira and her partner performed that led to her death was banned from the olympics moving forward.

and you and satoru were fucking ruined.

ruined and crying and clutching over her arms and hands at her hospital bedside, it scaringly cold and stiff and not her usual warmth at all as you couldn’t accept that this was your reality, that akira had left you both all alone after not only her initial familial love that you’d gotten since birth, but after nearly a decade of giggles and skating, her picking you both up from school and cussing up a storm because it made you and satoru laugh as kids, buying you ice cream and taking you out for beach days because she said the sun was good for your skin, harassing you and taking a million pictures of the two of you as she uttered over and over again that love had no limits— your dream of forever with her cruelly severed over the sport you all loved most.

yours and satoru’s mentor, friend, your fucking mother figure— was gone.

your aunt was gone. your own blood.

the entirety of that bullshit situation sort of settled into your minds by the time her funeral came— painfully holding back tears as your family members gave their speeches and final wishes before the lowering of her casket, you and satoru not saying a single word throughout the entire thing until it was just you and him standing in front of her grave site— your mothers waiting for you in their cars.

you both chose not to give speeches. you couldn’t.

“toru.” you sniffled, drowning in your tears as satoru strained to keep his back, lips pulled into a thin line.

“yes pretty.”

“this is so fucked.”

satoru breathed out a weak laugh and let a couple of tears slip down his cheeks, wiping them with the sleeve of his black suit as he grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, squeezing it.

“diabolically fucked.” he responded.

there really wasn’t much you could say at that moment in time, the two of you staring at the carvings on her tombstone as the wind softly blew over the petals of her flowers and letters, the day cloudy and cold and just fucked as you silently choked back sobs and whimpers, satoru lamely trying his best to stay strong for you— be your hero as he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you with everything that he had, nose buried in your hair as his tears fell and dampened a few strands.

“birds of a feather, toru.” you spoke softly, both of your frames shaking as the saying itself came from none other than akira.

he firmly nodded, lifting his head and kissing your cheek twice hard before looking at you.

“birds of a feather sweets.” his red teary eyes made your heart ache. “you can’t leave me too, okay?”

you scoffed and wiped your eyes, a sad smile on your face. “i could never… you know that.”

it didn’t really get easier from there, as everything in your lives reminded you of akira.

and though your mother was grieving the loss of her sister, she wanted to be left alone, and the only person that really understood the level of mourning you were on was satoru— him always there in the blink of an eye when you would call him in the middle of the night crying your eyes out while he held you, or when broken sobs wrecked through satoru’s trembling body as he cried into your chest while you held him and vice versa, endless amounts of ‘i miss her’s’ and ‘bring her back’s’ as you took turns depending on the day rolling on the floor unable to physically breathe over the loss as you tried to anchor each other back to normalcy, wondering how the world could be so cruel and continue spinning when you’d just lost half of your hearts.

but it did. it continued to spin and turn and carry on as you and satoru day by day tried to patch over what happened, be there for each other and heal each other as you graduated high school and caught up with satoru in college, still together and still in your stupid limbo of ‘is there something more’ except worse, and still inseparable three years later after akira’s passing.

it didn’t hurt any less, but the days definitely got easier… some harder than others as the time you spent with her became cherished distant memories, feeling eternally grateful for the way she raised and took care of you, for the work she had done, and for the legacy she had built for figure skating olympians around the world.

and because akira was so good and taught you both just as so, satoru and you had a little name of your own as you’ve been sweeping competitions since the age of thirteen, ninety eight percent unbeatable and competitive as other pairs always knew who you were the minute you stepped onto the ice, eager and curious to see if you would make it into the olympics when the time came just like your mentor had done.

some deemed it cheating— unfair due to the fact that you had a four-time gold medalist olympian training you since childhood, but that assumption quickly diminished after her passing when you both continued to wipe competitions and take trophies home purely based on your talent.

and you both agreed to continue your careers without a coach, a decision that didn’t even need to be thought twice over— and you were twenty and satoru twenty one when the time drew near to try for the olympics.

finally.

“my legs are gonna fall off and my balls are gonna droop to the icy floor if you don’t give me a kiss right now.”

“toru!” you giggled loudly, pushing his face away as he puckered up his lips and made obnoxious kissy noises, pulling you in by the waist. “toru focus we’re on a time crunch—”

“time crunch where?” he whined, stomping his blade down on the ice. “we’ve been at it for so long already i’m cold i’m thirsty and i think we should go to that cute christmas festival patch thing you told me aboouuttt!”

“right now?” you asked. “i don’t know toru… i had a set goal for us tonight and if we don’t get it—”

“oh you damn perfectionist.” he scowled, letting you go and quickly skating to starting position. “fine.”

you gave him a knowing smile and skated over to his dramatic sulking figure, kissing his cheek softly and wringing your arms around his neck, pulling him in.

“let’s run it three more times and then we can go to the festival, okay?”

he jumped up like a little kid, eyes hyper and wild. “really? honestly? truly?”

you nodded, gleaming up at him.

“is this a prank?”

“jesus toru you’re making me think i’m keeping you hostage here with how excited you are—”

“yiiippeeeee!—” he grabbed your upper thighs and lifted you before spinning on the ice, the both of you laughing as he roughly turned until he gradually came to a stop, big goofy smiles on your faces as he did so.

satoru loosened his hold as you slowly slid down against his body, faces close and lovesick as his half lidded eyes looked at you, lips stinging to plant directly over yours after so many years of hopeless pining and avoidance, still refusing to acknowledge the situation, but it glaringly obvious at this point.

“what?” you whispered, your eyes fixed on his lips as your blades touched the ice again.

he softly shook his head, blue eyes greedily drinking in your pretty face as he retracted a hand from your waist and brushed his palm over your hair adoringly, hand raising to cup your cheek gently.

was he about to…?

you swallowed, hands gripping his black t-shirt as you waited… anxious, hoping that he would do what you thought he was about to do.

but satoru squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace and quickly kissed the corner of your mouth before turning his back to you and skating to starting position— leaving you incredibly dumbfounded and disappointed.

satoru’s skin felt like it was on fucking fire as he looked at your stunning doe eyes blinking at him from across the rink, heart pulsing uncontrollably as you slowly skated to him and got into position, neither of you uttering a word about it as you ran the choreography three more times like you had agreed on.

you and satoru have had plenty of moments like that… but lately?

it’s been borderline dangerous with how close you’ve gotten to breaking your unspoken rule.

by the end of practice you and satoru excitedly packed up for the christmas festival, more or less stumbling out of the doors of the rink and locking up before throwing your things in satoru’s car and speeding off to the main plaza, cheesy dorky smiles on your faces as you babbled on about all of the things you were gonna do once you got there.

“the s’mores stand! the s’mores stand!” satoru whipped his head comically back and forth between you and the snowy road. “we have to go there and get five nothing less and maybe more—”

“wait! i wanna get some of that hot chocolate we got last year!” you quickly reached and gripped his shoulder. “the one with the chocolate bits in it! and the whipped cream! and the drizzle—”

“oh fuck yeah how could i forget?” satoru made a turn, the shining glimmering lights of the festival and christmas trees coming into view and riling you both up in pure exhilaration. “i gulped down like four cups of those and then threw up in a bush.”

you laughed loudly and shook your head. “i forgot about thaaaattt! toru you always shove shit in your mouth and throw up we have got to work on that—”

“no we don’t!” he cheesed, reaching over and patting over your hair— the smooth ribbon of your thin bows sliding underneath his palm. “i love sweets even if they hurt me. what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. where there is no struggle there is no strength—”

“the only strength i see is a man hunched over puking his guts out.”

“hey!” he pouted, pulling into the lot before parking and turning off the ignition, the both of you hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards the main entrance. “and i’ll do it again so what.”

you giggled and interlocked your fingers with satoru’s. “silly silly.”

the festival was lively— huge decorated christmas trees everywhere you went as twinkling fairy lights adorned every corner and direction of the lots premises, several open stands that continuously wafted chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla throughout the entire night that had satoru practically floating through the air following the scent, kids giggling and running around as the soft familiar tunes of christmas music hummed in the background.

“what do you want for christmas, sweets?” satoru asked while chowing down a giant s’more.

“a kiss!” you quipped, giving him a cute silly look as you blew a bit of air over your steaming hot chocolate.

he stopped chewing.

“really?” satoru spoke with his mouthful. “i can literally give that to you right now c’mere—”

“no toru!” your cheeks buzzed a vibrant pink, completely flustered. “you’re supposed to say a big fat no!”

“now why the fuck would i do that...” he grumbled, shoulders slumping from disappointment as he took another big bite of his dessert.

you giggled, looking at him apologetically before standing on your tippy toes and licking a bit of melted chocolate from the corner of his mouth.

and he blinked at you, dumb and still as his cheeks copied the same exact shade as yours.

my god.

you were about to turn him into a freak.

“okay now you have to kiss me.”

“why?!” you laughed. “you had chocolate on your face! i was helping you out.”

“yeah right you little minx.” he scarfed down the last bit of his s’more and threw his little paper tray in the trash can behind him, putting his hands together and shaking off excess crumbs. “that’s actually the most torturous thing you have ever done to me.”

“dramatic!” you exclaimed, laughs escaping you and increasing as you watched satoru’s flustered face pout and glare at you.

you breathed in deeply and settled down, standing up straight as you took a tiny sip of your hot chocolate and smiled. “now i feel bad.”

“you should.”

“can you forgive me?”

“not unless you kiss me.”

“toru!”

“what?!” he pushed. “baby it’s only fair! really! just once and that’s it. a harmless peck nothing more we aren’t doing anything crazier.”

you gnawed at your bottom lip in thought.

technically he was right… it was just one little peck, entirely harmless and cute and wouldn’t have you both falling off of that thin tight rope you guys were still balancing off of.

this would only shake it a little… but then you’d be fine! right?

you were too far gone in the considerations of his proposal as you looked at his absolutely breathtaking blue eyes and face, somehow looking even more angelic as his pinky cold cheeks and nose and scarf covered neck did nothing but make you fall deeper in love with him than you already were.

how someone could look as good as satoru was beyond you.

“just—” you peered up at him. “just one peck okay?”

his eyes widened.

holy shit.

“yes!” he breathed out. “yes yes just one.”

“toru.” you spoke sternly. “i’m serious.”

he frantically nodded, arms already snaking around your waist and bringing you in.

you both couldn’t believe it.

you were about to have your very first kiss.

the two of you leaned in then— softly, timidly, afraid as satoru’s chocolate breath fanned against your nostrils and filled your lungs, lips coming closer and closer until they met in a simple, solid, tiny harmless peck.

satoru felt like his veins were about to pop and explode at the feeling of your delicate soft lips finally on his, the feeling actually fucking unreal as his fingertips went numb and his body tingled all over.

but it quickly became clear that it was not just one harmless peck.

because when it was supposed to be the time for you both to pull away, you and satoru only opened your mouths and kissed deeper— eyelids blissfully closed as your lips smacked so slowly and tenderly, the two of you actively relishing in the moment and just drinking each other’s mouths in as they moved and shifted, deep breaths through your noses as you daze-fully made out with the faint fuzzy sound of jingle bells and christmas music growing increasingly distant.

you tasted so sweet. just like he’d imagined.

but the moment came to and end when you both snapped your eyelids open in realization and released lips, pupils frantic and wide as you searched each other’s eyes for any sign of anger since you both had slipped up and did way more than just a peck.

but there was nothing. obviously there was nothing like that as your shoulders relaxed simultaneously and bashful smiles crossed your faces.

“you taste like chocolate.” he grinned.

you bit your bottom lip in a smile. “so do you.”

“twins.”

“uh huh.”

“i love you.”

you stilled.

you’ve told each other that thousands of times for years, since childhood.

you’ve always said you loved each other and have both known it was laced with those unspoken feelings you had, and you accepted that for as long as you could remember.

but somehow… in someway… it just felt different this time around. profound. more serious.

“i love you.” you responded.

satoru smiled softly and leaned his forehead against yours, basking in each others authentic infatuation for a moment before pulling away.

“can i get another s’more—”

“no!”

satoru ended up getting his second s’more, and you surprisingly ended up partaking in satoru activities and downed three fucking cups of that hot chocolate you loved so much, your tummy full and about to literally burst, but not really giving a shit as you and him were having so much freaking fun— buying little christmas trinkets from the santa shop and building tiny snowmen in the snowy play area filled with a bunch of kids (satoru literally making a tiny dick for one of the snowman and you immediately destroying it and wacking him), even skating in the rink but purely just for enjoyment and not a single thought of what you do professionally crossing your minds.

you stayed there until it was nearly closing time, money absolutely spent from all the things you bought, but your souls happy and warm as you happily walked to the car so satoru could take you home.

on the drive there, you showcased all of the trinkets you both had bought, a particular one catching your eye that you remembered you hadn’t shown satoru yet.

“oh! i got this one—” you dug your hand in the white plastic bag and pulled out a little snow angel, beautiful and glossy as the angels face blushed and smiled. “at the santa shop!”

“it’s cute baby!” he smiled. “for you?”

you shook your head. “i got it for aki. for the next time we visit her.”

his heart softened, nodding.

you and satoru tried your best to visit her grave as often as you possibly could, sometimes nearing four times a week to pay your respects and chat with her for a little while, filling her in a bit on your lives to bring back the feeling of what it was like to just talk to her in any way you could, like you had the fortune of doing once before.

“it kinda looks like her.. doesn’t it?” he questioned, pointing to the figure.

“it does right!” you expressed. “that’s why i got it… it reminded me of her.”

“she’ll love it.” he grinned, gently running the pad of his finger against your cold cheek before turning his attention back to the road.

you and satoru didn’t mention the kiss again as you were funnily still in shock over it, but the butterflies in your stomachs and the sole memory of it did more than enough as you climbed into bed with an already snoring satoru, him sleeping over for the night (when was he not) as you nudged your way under his arm and cuddled yourself in his chest, his slumbered state pulling you in like muscle memory.

you both only had two more practices left before the international skating union competition. once there, you and satoru had to land a spot in the top three chosen by the national olympic committee to earn an official spot in competing for the olympics, a task that was already vigorous and exhausting and nerve wracking, but one you both were more than ready for.

general admittance to competing in the olympics was essentially fourteen years in the making, one that wouldn’t have been possible in the first place if it wasn’t for akira.

“i think we should add a spin to this lasso lift.” you suggested, you and satoru taking a break from running the routine and standing by the bleachers during practice— watching a recently recorded take of your choreography to point out mistakes that flew under your radars.

“a spin?” he asked. “how sweets.”

“so when you lasso me around into the lift—” you rewinded the video and pointed. “since you’re holding me up over your head and we’re balancing with our hands, i say you maybe push me up to kind of like— propel me to do a triple rotation spin back down.”

“and then from there i catch you?”

“yeah!” you nodded. “and we’re traveling across the ice.”

satoru pursed his lips. “that’s kind of hard… you sure?”

“we’ve done worse toru.” you laughed. “i feel like this would give us more points.”

“oh it definitely would.” he nodded. “okay baby.”

“yay!” you cheered. “let’s practice the lift and propel on the mats first because if not i’m gonna eat shit.”

satoru laughed and sat down on the bleachers with you, quickly taking off his skates before standing and kneeling in front of you, untying your laces and slipping your skates off for you as you cutely smiled, him feeling like your little hero and knight in shining armor even if it was for something so minuscule.

he loved doing things for you.

in the middle of you and satoru practicing the move on the mats, your mother came in through the front doors of the ice rink.

“hi!” she greeted, holding up two wide rectangular boxes. “your costumes came in!”

“oh thank god!” you breathed out, satoru setting you down on your feet before you both ran to see. “i thought they weren’t gonna come in on time!”

“are they cool?!” satoru tumbled out. “do they scream please let me in the olympics?!”

you snorted and shoved his shoulder playfully as you unwrapped your boxes, your eyes shining in delight at the sight of your rhinestoned pale baby blue dress, a shade you purposefully picked out as it matched the color of satoru’s eyes— you lifting it with your fingertips from the box and gushing.

you turned it around and held it up against your frame as satoru pulled his top out— a white, tight long sleeved low cut v-neck button up that you already knew was gonna hug his yummy biceps so good, the thought of it making you bite the inside of your cheek as he checked over his black slacks.

your mother clasped her hands together, holding it to her mouth as her eyes gleamed over the two of you.

“i can’t believe it’s happening now.” she spoke softly, you and satoru diverting your attention to her and smiling. “for so long it was always just a distant thing you know? but now it’s here. actually.”

“fuck i know right.” you responded.

“language, y/n.”

“but i’m twenty!” you whined, pouting as satoru snickered behind you.

your mother rolled her eyes and cupped yours and satoru’s chins under her hands.

“good luck next week, alright? i know you guys will sweep.” she pushed. “make aki proud.”

the smiles on your faces grew, nodding as she squeezed your chins and released.

“oh! satoru—” your mother picked up her jacket and swung her purse over her shoulder. “your mom won’t be home for the night her trip got extended until tomorrow… you can sleep over at our house if you want so you’re not over there alone? or y/n can stay with you?”

“oh okay!” he spoke kindly. “thank you for letting me know!”

she smiled and nodded, hugging you both goodbye before leaving the rink.

your head whipped in his direction.

“toru if i sleep over at your house we can watch horror movies and actually scream as loud as we want without worrying about waking anybody up.”

his eyes bulged open. “oh my god you’re right! dibs i get to choose—”

“fuck!—”

by the end of practice you and satoru mastered the addition you added into the lasso lift, performing it beautifully on the ice over and over again until it was like simple reflex, calling it a day after a while and packing your things up to drive to satoru’s house.

you both took turns stepping in the shower to get rid of the sticky sweat that lingered on your skin, changing into comfy pajamas after as you tiredly settled in satoru’s big comfy bed— him flicking through his selection of horror movies and debating which one to pick.

“do you wanna watch something gory or just horror.”

“gory!” you perked up. “i need to work on not being so queasy.”

“but you seem fine when i throw up?”

“that’s because i’m used to it.” you laughed, head resting on his shoulder as he picked a movie and threw his remote somewhere across the bed, his arm coming to wrap around your tummy and pull you in.

it wasn’t like the selection mattered anyways, because fifteen minutes into the movie you were already falling asleep, hand resting on satoru’s torso as he continued to watch it— for some reason still wide awake even after skating for hours.

your sleepy sudden movements from your hand made him weirdly stiffen and relax every single time, your brows furrowing at the feeling and eyes fluttering open when he wouldn’t stop doing it.

“toru… are you still ticklish?” you mumbled sleepily.

he stiffened again.

“no.” he answered softly. “why..?”

you lazily grinned.

“youuu suureee?”

terror struck him as he sensed exactly what the fuck you were about to do.

“please spare me please spare me—”

you jumped on him and tickled his entire upper body, satoru laughing and gasping as he smacked your hands away and twisted and turned, his strong grip making it hard for you to tickle him at one point as you stubbornly swung a leg over his waist and settled over his lap, attacking him while he yelped and screamed.

“baby!” he gasped. “baby please! have some mercy is this how much i mean to you?!”

you giggled and finally stopped, hands retracting as you settled them on your hips. “that’s what you get for lying to me.”

“i was lying for my safety.”

“uh huh.”

you both grinned, satoru’s eyes occasionally flickering down to you straddling his lap with your pretty plushy thighs and blushing, trying to keep his gaze on yours to refrain himself from doing something a little too mental and weird.

but it was too fucking late, because it took no time at all for the blood to rush to his pathetic dick and harden.

surprisingly though, you were the one that was mental— the feeling of his cock against your clit undeniable as the uncomfortable shifts of satoru’s waist only stimulated it against your little nub and made you bite down hard on your bottom lip, shaky breaths leaving your mouth as it was getting harder and harder for you to restrain yourself from satoru’s godlike existence.

and your body was just not listening as you timidly rolled your hips over his crotch— your short shorts criminally thin as you felt just how big satoru’s length was, mouth watering as your palms timidly settled over his chest for stability, grinding on his cock harder.

satoru’s eyes were blown out as he watched you do something so— so lewd, his mind wandering if you were fully and properly there as something like this was absolutely breaking your unspoken rule, and you were more strict about it than he was.

but he didn’t want you to stop. god no.

at this point, you and satoru were off that metaphorical tight rope and hanging on by two hands— having both failed at keeping each other balanced as you rolled and rolled your hips deliciously on his dick, his chest quickly rising and falling at the feeling of your warm pussy over his groin and at the sight of you using him to get yourself off.

your little needy mewls made his hands tremble as he threw his head back on the pillow, eyes pathetically fucked out over something so simple.

“fuck me..” satoru groaned, hands coming up to rub over his face as his hips lifted to meet your grinding.

him doing that broke you out of your haze and you stiffened, satoru taking his hands away from his face with pinched brows at the sudden halt.

what happened?

“okay!” you laughed nervously, an alarmed expression as you swung your leg off of his lap and scrambled under the covers, pulling it completely over you as you shamefully looked anywhere and everywhere but satoru.

but he was out of it.

undoubtedly out of it now that you did what you did… wanting more, wanting all of you as he snatched the covers off of your frame and you squeaking as a result.

“why’d you stop.” he whispered, thumb raising to trace your bottom lip.

“i don’t— i don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“yes you do—”

“absolutely not—”

“i want you.” he cut you off. “i want you bad and i know you want me too so let’s just— let’s just do this once, okay? once please just to see what it’s like and it’ll never happen again.”

your eyes remained wide as you looked at his desperate frantic ones, his hands already kneading at your waist and thighs.

he was entrancing you into his proposal again, exactly the same way as when you both kissed for the first time at the festival as he leaned down and nibbled at your jaw, slotting himself in between your legs.

“do— do what?”

“fuck.” he mumbled, rolling his hips down on your pussy rough and you gasping at the sensation of his big cock against your clit again.

you whimpered as he rutted into you, hands flying to squeeze his biceps as his wet mouth moved down to your neck, licking and gnawing as he waited for your response.

“but isn’t that—” you stifled a moan. “isn’t that too far toru?—”

“please baby please.” he picked his head up and looked at you. “just once i swear once so we see what it’s like and get it out of our systems and never do it again. i promise.”

he needs to kiss you right fucking now.

your eyes fluttered closed as he continued to hump you, licking your lips as you weakly tried to look into his eyes.

“you swear?” you breathed out. “swear it just once and that’s it—”

“i swear i swear i swear—”

“okay then fuck me toru please—”

satoru nearly cried as he ripped himself away from you to frantically pull off his shirt and pants, him slapping your hands away when you tried to take off your own clothes as he wanted to do it himself— lifting your shirt over your head and downright tearing your shorts in half as he flung them down and across the room, your little pink bra and panties set actually turning him into a complete mess as he hovered back over you and shoved his tongue in your mouth.

you still tasted just as sweet as he remembered.

“been dreaming of—” mmpf— “kissing you since you let me, sweets.”

“yeah?” your lips moved sloppily with his as you snuck a hand in your panties and dipped your fingers in your pussy, collecting your arousal. “you missed me toru?”

“uh huh.” he breathed hotly against your lips, hand coming to slide underneath your bra to cup your bare tit. “every fucking night i’d jerk my dick dry thinking about it.”

his words made your clit twitch as you pushed him off your lips.

“open your mouth.”

satoru did as told without a peep and opened it with his tongue out, your hands coming out from your panties as you reached up and slipped your fingers in his mouth, his lips closing in and sucking everything you had to give him as he salvaged up your arousal.

“fuck—” he released your fingers. “is this from your pussy baby?”

“mhm.” you moaned.

your arousal was even sweeter.

“my god—” he grabbed your wrist and licked a long stripe up your palm. “you dirty fucking thing m’gonna have to taste for myself and see.”

you gasped. “what?”

satoru sat up and pulled your wet panties down your legs, biting down on his tongue hard at the sight of your angelic bare cunt before him, slick and shiny and pretty as you unclasped your bra and spread your legs for him— eager and ready and not a single other thought in your brain besides the one that was screaming for satoru to stick his dick inside you.

“toruuuu!” you whined. “quit staring and fuck me.”

his cock pulsed.

“patience sweets, i wanna taste you first.”

you expected satoru to just lower himself down and shove his head in between your thighs, but you were dead fucking wrong as he stood, grabbed your waist and yanked you high up, sitting you on his shoulders as you squealed and gripped his hair.

“wait toru isn’t this uncomfortable i—”

he scoffed. “fuck no. i’ve been lifting you my whole life baby this is nothing.”

your speech lodged itself in your throat as you felt his tongue lap at your folds and clit, slobbering and filthy as he ate and scarfed you down just like his usual daily sweets, you by far his absolute favorite as he slurped your little pussy up and made you squeal and moan.

satoru walked over to the wall and leaned you up against it, taking your thighs off of his shoulders and placing his hands underneath as he propped you up and spread your legs wider, your jaw dropping at his slimy tongue flicking and him slabbering his mouth side to side rapidly until your legs shook and you saw stars.

“toru—”

he grunted, tongue prodding at your hole and you jumping.

“i think— i think i’m gonna cum and i—” pant “i don’t wanna—”

satoru separated his mouth from your pussy with a squelch and looked up, smiling big.

“too bad!”

“but—”

he spit on your cunt and you gasped.

“i said too bad.”

he dipped back in and fully devoured you as you mewled, messier as he slushed his tongue all over and you’d never experienced something like this, something that felt so fucking good as you started cumming all over his face in record speed regardless of how hard you were trying to hold back.

“yummy.”

he let go and you dropped down as he quickly caught you, turning and throwing you on his bed as he climbed over you— wrapping a hand around his cock and jerking as he kissed and swallowed your lips up again.

“you want me to make love to you or fuck you?” he slopped against your mouth before pulling back, yours and his eyes fluttering open to look at each other.

your legs were still shaking by the eat out he gave you seconds before, finding it hard to get your words together as his handsome deluded face stared at you.

“i— um—”

he placed his lips next to your ear.

“you want me to fuck you like my wife or fuck you like a little slut? or both?”

“both toru please—”

he grinned, coming back up as he parted your legs further open and lined his leaky tip with your hole.

“i can do both!”

satoru pushed himself in and you choked, hands clasping over your mouth as you felt him bully his big cock through and leave you a blabbering crying mess under him— his chest heaving at the warmth and softness and stickiness of your cute gummy walls, his years of imagining and theorizing how you’d feel wrapped around his dick all completely debunking themselves at the real feeling as you whimpered and clenched your hole.

“jesus christ—” he shivered, swallowing thickly as his trembling fingers settled on your waist, him slowly reeling his hips back before pumping in. “you’re— you’re warm.”

you dropped your hands and wiped your cheeks as you hiccuped, the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of your walls incandescently euphoric as you embarrassingly already felt yourself wanting to cum again when he had just stuck his dick inside of you— you wanting to ride out this moment for a bit longer and not finish so quickly like you had done on his mouth.

“am i being too mean pretty?” he huffed, thrusts now quick and curt as he gripped your bouncing tits and pinched your perking nipples, the sight of your little tears shamefully turning him on.

you frantically shook your head and tried to clear your brain. “n—no!—”

“good.” he smiled, a little crazed as he let go of your boobs, placed his hands on the backside of your thighs and pushed your knees up to your chest, picking up speed as you squealed and whimpered, utterly taken aback by how rough satoru was being considering the fact that he was such a goofy and kind and loving person on the daily.

oh… what years worth of pent up sexual frustration can do to a man.

satoru whined as you milked his dick, wheezing as he hammered his hips up and slapped against your skin, your body jolting and bouncing uncontrollably as his bed squeaked loud and obnoxiously.

thank god his mother wasn’t home.

“i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this i’ve wanted this—” satoru babbled, his critical thinking out the fucking window as he just tumbled out totally random but honest confessions as your ears eagerly drank up every word and made your hole tighten.

“yeah?” pant “f—for how long baby?”

“for so long—” he whined loudly, fucking you faster as your mouth hung open and you gripped his wrists for support. “you’re everything i’ve ever w—wanted—”

“i— i’ve only ever wanted you toru— fuck! you’re big.“ you moaned, loving the way a huge deranged smile spread across his face as his hips pistoned into you and his hands pinned you down.

“cum on my dick baby please cum on my dick i want it i want it—”

your toes curled and you squealed, vision flashing white as you let out a high pitched scream at the intense buzzing feeling, your bodies hot and sticky and wet as satoru leaned over and shoved his lips in your ear.

“can i— can i cum inside?” he choked through gritted teeth as he came close to spilling his seed. “please i wanna cum inside—”

“but m’not on the pill—”

“please please baby i beg you—” hah! “i don’t wanna cum anywhere else—”

your eyes fluttered shut at his words and you quickly nodded, his hand cupping your face as he thrusted in one last time and pumped his cum entirely inside you without an ounce of hesitation for the consequences, his horny mind actually crazed and solidifying that there was no fucking way in hell he was gonna accept just friends from this point forward.

what a stupid thought.

“mmm…” you slowly moved your hips a little, feeling his cum all inside your ravished walls as you licked your lips. “your cum feels hot toru.”

not even warm, hot as it slushed and moved inside you with every movement you made, some of it dribbling and coating your outer folds as you bit your bottom lip into a smile and craned your head up to his neck, nibbling and giving satoru tiny kitten licks as he trembled and struggled to stay afloat and not give out his upper arm strength— trying to prevent himself from squishing you.

satoru pressed a soft tender kiss to your cheek then before sitting up and delicately sliding his dick out, running a soothing hand over your tummy as he did so and giving you a lazy smile.

he suddenly raised his pinky to you.

“birds of a feather?” he murmured, other hand running from your stomach over to your thighs now as he just lovingly felt you up, you smiling with rosy cheeks as you linked your little pinky with his.

“birds of a feather.”

you both kissed your thumbs and locked your promise, deciding then that you should probably shower once more before getting into bed to officially sleep— but deciding to shower together as you softly and steamily made out under the misty hot running water, body and mind relaxed as you just swallowed in the ambience of each other, you both not only holding on to your metaphorical tight rope with one hand now, but it actually on the verge of snapping as a whole and sending you both free falling.

and for the next couple of days, you and satoru were feral.

years and years of doing fucking nothing with pure restraint and fantasizing did a number on you both as any chance you got you were making out on your bed, his bed, and even in satoru’s car after your lectures— your hand teasingly going lower and lower until you’d shove a hand in his pants to pull his dick out and pump, your body leaning across the console and mouth going down to bob and suck as he moaned and pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to guide you and your pretty bows and fuck your mouth just to hear the sounds of you choking, eyes from time to time frantically looking around to see if no one was around as you blowed him.

and you did that basically all of the time for the next three days until the final practice just before the international skating union competition, satoru physically unable to leave you alone and unscathed as he constantly pinned you down to eat your pussy or suckle on your soft tits, his hand tightly clasped over your mouth in your room when your moans would get too loud as he fingered you, his long fingers squelching and abusing your cunt until you were finishing all over his hands again and again.

but you two having actual sex didn’t happen again apart from that night— satoru a man of his word since he promised you would only do it once… unfortunately. but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do other things, right?

except by the final practice, satoru was absolutely fucked off at the fact that neither of you had brought up the potentiality of being more than just friends, especially after doing all of those lewd acts.

he was so sick of it.

and so were you, quite frankly, but instead of being completely over it like satoru, you were afraid… afraid of what could happen and the possibility of losing him if you both indulged, if you let yourselves put your freaking careers on the line.

and satoru was the one person you couldn’t bear to lose. not ever.

“we look good sweets!” satoru cheesed, rotating around in the ice rinks dressing room mirrors as you had your costumes on for dress rehearsal and refinements, both of you glittering and shiny and looking like a professional ice skating pair as you examined yourself, readjusting your straps and hugging your torso.

“cold.” you shivered. “maybe i should’ve had it as a long sleeve… shit.”

he laughed and placed his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down quickly to create frictional heat as you smiled at him gratefully. “nah, it’s cute like this! you’ll warm up once we run it a few times on the ice.”

you nodded, the both of you walking out of the dressing room and to the rink, skillfully putting on your skates before pushing yourself on the ice and gliding across.

“can you show me the uh—” satoru looked to the side in thought once he was on the ice in front of you. “the part where we skate in unison and have our arms up in an L? it’s in the chorus of our music—”

“oh!” you nodded and skated a bit away from him to demonstrate.

“i just wanna see if my form matches yours and we look clean.” he smiled. “and then show me the triple axel after that.”

you gave him a cute thumbs up and pushed yourself off, gliding gracefully and smoothly across the ice as satoru was supposed to be watching you to try and fix his form, but finding himself transfixed once again by the way you seamlessly skated with no sense of struggling effort— arms poised and flowy as your dress moved and fluttered with every twist and turn until you gradually propelled yourself up into the triple axel and landed correctly without a slip or wobble.

the level of difficulty and technicality you skated reminded him of akira— but your style, your movement, and the way you carried yourself was entirely your own.

you made figure skating look beautiful.

you were beautiful.

you slowed down on the ice and skated over to satoru.

“were you able to see? did you match me?—”

“you skate just like her.” satoru spoke softly, and you faltered.

he didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about, as you always knew.

“you’re just saying that.” you pursed your lips to keep yourself from smiling, or crying, you didn’t know.

but a compliment like that meant the absolute world to you.

“i’m not.” he shrugged, skating over to you and taking your hands as he glided with you to starting position. “you always have baby. and i know that’s what you’ve always wanted. i’m sorry i don’t say it enough.”

your eyes softened. “toru that’s not something to be sorry about at all…”

satoru was so kind.

you both skated together and ran the choreography a couple of times, spinning simultaneously and satoru lifting you again and again throughout the routine and still performing your lasso spinning lift successfully, arms around his shoulders and faces close as the wind whipped through both of your costumes and hair from traveling across the ice at such a speed before coming to a sudden choreographed halt at the end of your number.

you had slid down satoru’s body to plant your blades back on the ice when he had enough.

“please stick your tongue in my mouth.”

you choked on your spit and slapped a hand over your mouth.

“toru no! absolutely not we can’t anymore okay—”

“what are we.”

you froze.

“huh?”

“what are we.” he repeated, eyes dead locked on yours and hard. “are we together? are we not? are we friends? what are we—”

“we’re— we’re friends toru—”

“oh fuck no.” he let you go and created a little bit of space between you. “don’t give me that shit we’re not friends.”

“w—well we can’t—”

“i’m your man.” he stated firmly. “i’m your man i’ve been your man for years and i’m tired of avoiding this sweets! it sucks!”

“we’re putting everything at risk if we do toru we can’t!”

“i’m your man.”

“no you’re not—”

he cut you off. “your mouth has been on my dick. we’ve had sex. we’ve kissed we’ve made out we’ve told each other i love you if that doesn’t tell you that we’re together then what the actual fuck?!”

“oh my god toru i know i know!” you groaned, hugging yourself as you anxiously looked at him. “what happens if we break up? huh? what do we do?”

he shook his head. “we won’t.”

“you don’t know that.” you laughed bitterly. “if that happens we lose each other satoru understand that. we break birds of a feather, we ruin our careers, and we ruin us.”

“first of all—” he started. “our birds of a feather promise is to stick together, keep each other safe, and not seperate or fight, is it not?”

“it— it is—”

“so do you really think if we continue to keep each other in this fuck ass limbo of friends that we aren’t already breaking that?” he threw his arms out in emphasis. “we have never been just friends. i’ve known you for fourteen fucking years and we have never been just that.”

you blinked back tears.

“i promise you baby—” he slid closer to you and cupped your cheeks. “that we won’t leave each other. i will fight and try every single damn day to make sure that that shit never happens even though i already know it won’t because you’ve been made for me since birth and we haven’t separated since we’ve met.”

satoru wiped your cheeks. “but i also promise you, that if we continue as just friends, we will break. we’re gonna string each other along so fucking much that we’re gonna go absolutely insane and drive each other away. that is for certain.”

“but— skating—”

“i don’t give an ever living fuck.” he spat funnily and you laughed through your tears. “skating is nothing without you. all the trophies and medallions and the god damn olympics itself with that gold medal is nothing without you. i would give that shit up in a heartbeat if it meant keeping you in my life in exchange.”

“and i would do the same for you toru!” you sobbed, his arms immediately wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you in as you sniffled and hiccuped into his chest, him kissing the side of your head repeatedly and soothing a hand down your back.

“don’t cry pretty i didn’t meant to make you cry...” he mumbled, cheek mushed up against your head as your shoulders shook, a huge disgusting pit of guilt in his stomach. “fine it’s okay we can be just friends for a bit longer please don’t cry—”

“no!” you sputtered, pushing him back a little to face him. “i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either toru… it hurts me so much.”

“it does?” he asked softly and you nodded.

“it hurts me too.”

satoru wiped your remaining tears again and fixed the little bows in your hair, a soft liberated smile on his face as he reached down to cup your cheeks and bring your perfect lips to his, kissing you lovingly as the both of you felt like you could finally rest and stop ridiculously hiding your love in the shadows after so many years.

the thin tight rope that you had both been toppling over and rebalancing and holding onto to keep the other from falling, had finally snapped in two, and you and satoru were now in the darkest depths of the truth of what you both were.

except it wasn’t dark at all.

it was light and airy and heavenly, and you wondered why you had been so afraid when there was nothing to be afraid of in the first place, since the one you were falling with was satoru.

silly.

he pulled apart and looked at you, his striking blue eyes and white fluffy hair especially beautiful.

“tomorrow—” he began. “we’re gonna absolutely destroy everyone else there and land a spot in the top three, and then after i’m gonna take you out on a nice dinner and buy every single fucking dessert off the menu, and then i’m gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. okay baby?”

you giggled then, the brightest rosy cheeks on display from the both of you as you eagerly nodded and threw your arms around his neck.

and tomorrow could not come soon enough, because not only were you looking forward to making your dreams a reality and competing against other figure skating pairs from around the world and the olympics itself, but also the thought of officially being satoru’s after years of wishing on little stars and day dreaming about what that would be like for hours on end.

until the moment was here. happening.

the indoor arena was electric and rowdy the minute the competition commenced, you and satoru in absolute awe of the energetic atmosphere as many individuals in the crowd waved their banners or screamed their loved ones names, an ambience very similar to the olympics as you both watched pair after pair perform their hardwork and dedication on the ice, goosebumps on your skin as you fidgeted and jittered.

out of twenty of your countries competing pairs, only three of you would be chosen for the olympics.

and you hoped to god you and satoru would be chosen.

“we’re almost up baby.” satoru patted your head, sitting on a bench in your designated area. “i think it’s two more pairs then it’s us.”

you nodded, nerves closing up your throat as your eyes darted over the rink.

satoru frowned.

“hey.” he placed a hand on your thigh, suddenly wanting to rip your nylon tights off so you could actually feel his skin on yours. “you nervous sweets?”

you nodded again, and he gave you a silly grin.

“don’t be! you’re literally akira the second. we’ll be fine!”

you laughed lightly and leaned your head on his shoulder.

“and even if we don’t land a spot, that’s fine too.” he kissed your head. “it’s our first year anyways… we’ll know the game for next time and we’ll try harder.”

you picked your head up and smiled at him, his words settling your nerves just as soon as the last remaining pair took their places on stage, yours and satoru’s turn right after.

what you didn’t know, was that satoru was just as nervous as you.

but he knew you needed a rock and someone to comfort you— wanting to swoop in like a little hero and save you again… so he kept it hidden.

“fuck i almost forgot!” satoru jumped up and dug into his duffel bag, pulling out a roll of pale baby blue ribbon that matched your dress exactly. “you told me you didn’t have ribbon that matched your costume so i went and tried to look.”

he held it out for you cutely on his palm.

“does this one match?”

you picked up the roll, astonished and mushy inside that satoru actually went out of his way to find this specific ribbon color for you because you had expressed how unhappy you were with the darker shade you had, your eyes looking up at him in complete adoration.

“oh my goodness— thank you toru!”

you quickly undid the bows in your hair and slipped off the former ribbon, digging through your duffel bag for scissors and cutting off pieces from the new ribbon before looping them through your hair and tying, not needing a mirror since you’ve done it for as long as you could remember.

satoru’s cheeks went pink as he looked at your new pretty bows.

“does they look okay?”

“beautiful.” he responded, pecking your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the entrance of the rink.

“okay—” you breathed out. “this is it.”

“what kind of food do you think they’ll have at the dinner place we picked—”

“toru!” you giggled. “not now!”

he smiled sheepishly at you before leaning his forehead against yours.

you stuck your pinky out.

“birds of a feather?”

satoru grinned and looped his pinky with yours.

“birds of a feather baby.”

you both kissed your thumbs and once again, locked your promise.

the announcer over the speakers iterated your names and your country as you and satoru glided across the ice poised and graceful with your arms up, waving at the crowd and giving your mothers a special frantic wave before moving to starting position, unknowing of the way several other pairs and the judges themselves murmured about your reputation and your association with akira.

and you hoped she was watching over you both now. somewhere.

the music begun, contemporary and lyrical as you and satoru slid across the rink, already impressive and entertaining as you performed moves and lifts right off the bat, the sounds of your blades scraping against the ice oddly keeping you in time with your choreography as the number went on.

and you and satoru were feeding off of each other, the chemistry undeniable to a strangers eye that had no idea of your story as you conveyed passion through your expressions, each technical movement bleeding with the fact that you both had been olympic level trained since the age of fourteen and fifteen.

you were halfway through your routine now, the lasso lift coming up next as satoru harbored in his strength so he could properly propel you into that newly added spin.

you skated around him and he lifted you up into the air, the crowd cheering and excited at your beautiful remarkable forms.

except satoru’s hands were slippery.

why?

nerves. he quickly deemed it nerves as he had no time to deliberate since it was almost time to propel you up into the spin, his mind already racing over the fact that the slip in his hands was hindering his strength to keep you up there, and he worried that if he pushed you up, it wouldn’t be enough and you’d come tumbling down— hurting yourself.

but satoru had zero time to decide again as he went with protocol and pushed you up as hard as he possibly could and prayed you would go into your triple axel spin successfully and that he’d catch you.

but the minute that he did, the force yanked him back and his skates flew up in front of him, you falling down and your thigh hitting something sharp before you both went slamming to the ground— sliding apart from each other on the ice.

the crowd screamed and gasped in terror, sounds you were all too familiar with to what you heard three years ago filling both your fuzzy minds as satoru struggled to get back up, his head turning slowly around to see if you were okay and just sore like him—

until he saw your limp body on your side, your back to him with blood slowly pooling out on the ice and staining your pretty blue dress.

satoru scrambled up and skated straightaway in a panic to you before sliding on his knees as he reached you, turning you over and paling as he saw you were unresponsive and out fucking cold.

“baby?“ he shook you. “hey— baby—”

nothing.

why weren’t you answering him? why weren’t you awake?

his brain flashed images of akira’s body the day that she died, suffocating deja vu as the way you looked when he saw you like that on your side was a carbon copy of her from three years ago, his chest picking up speed as you continued to lay limp even after he shook you desperately numerous times like a madman.

and why was there so much blood?

blood that looked sickly bright red against the white ice, blood that stained his sleeves and shirt and hands as he held you up and supported your head, and blood that wouldn’t stop fucking oozing out of your leg as he trembled.

“hey— hey can you hear me?” satoru tapped your cheek rapidly, shaking you gently again with horrified eyes and still not getting a response.

“fuck! why is this happening this isn’t supposed to happen—”

how could he be your hero? how could he stop the blood and wake you up? how could he— how could he fix this how could he take it all back how could he fix this—

“no no no baby please—” he sobbed. “not like aki baby not like her man—”

he shook you again, your head lolling to the side as if— as if you were—

no.

“baby— birds of a feather right? birds of a feather we have to stick together you can’t— you can’t leave right?” he cried, chest heaving and vision blurry and you just felt so cold.

“you’re not leaving you’re not leaving me please not like aki please god—” he cradled you up to his chest in his arms and rocked. “you can’t leave me you’re all i know and i don’t wanna know anything else please baby—”

satoru’s frantic repeated heartbroken wailing echoed throughout the arena as the crowd erupted and moved around in hysteria, him still rocking you in his arms as he turned his head with terrified bloodshot eyes to look at both of your mothers, yours hunched over in a fit of screams and cries as his had her hands in her hair in utter disbelief and tears.

“fuck what do i do!” he sobbed, legs shakily standing as he slipped one arm under your back and the other under your knees, picking your limp body up as he saw a huge group of paramedics run over to him on the ice as he carried you over.

“help—” hic! “h—help me please—”

why couldn’t satoru be your hero when it mattered most?

several of them lowered the stretcher and took you from him, laying your lifeless self on it before hoisting you up and swiftly carrying you away, all of it horrifyingly and painfully similar to akira’s inevitable death.

were you gone?

satoru looked down and saw your baby blue ribbons on the ice, wet and stained with blood, once perfect bows in your pretty hair when he had you awake and breathing.

were you breathing? had you hit your head?

he couldn’t remember.

he couldn’t remember anything but your unresponsiveness, the way your skin was colder than the ice itself as he picked up your ribbons and looked at them in his hands— and the way your blood stretched over for what looked like miles and was still there.

in front of him. taunting him.

was the world so cruel as to take you too?

it wouldn’t. it couldn’t.

you’d never done anything wrong. you’d never treated anybody indifferently as you were sweet and beautiful and talented, always in servitude of others— in servitude of him as you taught him how to ice skate when you didn’t need to at six years old, you already kind and gentle at that young age when you could’ve easily shooed him away like a little bug and told him to fuck off.

and throughout your life too, as he was well aware he was an annoying dramatic piece of shit that whined and cried and ate your stashes of sweets all of the time— but you always just giggling and looking at him with adoration in your eyes, with your cheeky smile, with the little ribbon bows in your hair he loved so fucking much.

oh how he wished he didn’t always take your sweets at that moment. how he wished he wasn’t always an annoying blockhead and made you mad at times with his persistent personality and neediness as he stood there frozen in the rink staring at your blood— dark now and dull, wishing it was him instead of you.

you were knocked out for five days at the hospital.

you and satoru also didn’t make it into the top three at the international skating union competition.

you should’ve, as your score was already higher than any other pair there and only halfway through the routine too— but that’s precisely why you got knocked out.

if you had finished your number, you would’ve landed in the top three, but it ending halfway cut off the opportunity for accumulating more points, and eventually another pair surpassed your halfway score by two points.

but satoru didn’t give a shit. fuck the olympics and fuck the international skating union while your body laid still on the hospital bed for hours on end, him refusing to leave your side as he sat there and stared off into space with nothing in his head but hatred for himself as it was his fault that this happened and his blade that sliced you— eyes red and sunken and tired and refusing to eat or drink.

you had hit your head on the ice, but thankfully the trauma wasn’t anywhere near the severity of akira’s, it only inducing a strong concussion and sending you flying out of consciousness upon impact.

but it was the loss of blood that was the problem.

you had lost so much, too much of it.

it made you weak and frail and unable to do much and satoru worried that that’s what was going to take away your fighting chance of survival.

“you should go home satoru…” your mother sighed, standing by the door of your hospital room, her own eyes red and swollen.

he shook his head no silently.

“she’ll still be here… you need to eat something or sleep please. you look awful.”

satoru smiled weakly and shook his head again.

“m’fine.”

your mother pursed her lips to the side and she sighed again, nodding.

“i’ll come by early in the morning, alright?”

he hummed, giving her a tiny wave as she left and closed the door behind her.

satoru had brought a roll of pink ribbon from your little white box in your room, unrolling the pieces he chose and lifting his hands, taking the ends of your hair and trying to tie little thin bows the way you always did, but huffing softly in irritation when they just looked like shit.

he undid the one he was working on and settled for feeling the material of the ribbon between his thumbs instead.

satoru brought you bouquets everyday too.

sometimes three at a time as he continuously swapped out old flowers and replaced them with new ones, changed their water and poured fresh quantities into each vase to keep them alive, and often picked some more from the hospital garden when he went down to get some fresh air for a minute— the least he could do for nearly killing you.

and satoru had a lot of time to think while he waited for you to wake up— bitter and resentful at the world for letting him sit there healthy while you were out, so much so that he started thinking stupid shit like how he wished you would’ve forgotten him and dismissed his yapping dreams about ice skating when you met so you would’ve been an independent skater instead, so you then wouldn’t have gotten hurt by his idiocy and you wouldn’t be laying in a hospital bed like you were now.

or swapped places. him instead of you so he could beat up the fucks that took akira away and beat up zeus or— or aphrodite or whoever the fuck that was responsible for keeping him from you so he could come back to you… unsure if you were doing the same thing as he stared at your resting face.

you should’ve just left him behind.

but he was sleeping when you woke.

arms propped up and crossed next to you on the hospital bed, his cheek mushed up on them and face to the side as you blinked your eyes open and was straight up confused, not a single memory of the incident flitting through your mind… until it did.

and it hit you bad.

your mind reeled with a pounding headache, tears prickling your eyes at the events that plagued through your mind— a part of you knowing there was absolutely no way you and satoru made top three and gutted about it, feeling shaken from the memory alone of you falling and hitting the ice.. but grateful.

grateful to be alive, for you knew akira wasn’t as lucky.

was it because of her that you had lived? had she pulled some strings to change your fate?

your eyes trailed down to a sleeping peaceful satoru, your gaze softening at how tired and broken he looked, bags dark and purple as he snored away next to you, your hand lifting and delicately settling over his fluffy white hair as you smiled that he was here next to you— caressing.

satoru shot up wide awake then as you jumped and retracted your hand, the both of you alarmed and frantic.

“baby?” he grabbed your hand and felt around it, feeling warmth for once as he stood up straight and shoved back one of the sleeves of his hoodie.

“you’re awake? are you actually?—” he pinched his arm hard over and over and you giggled.

you giggled— the sound filling his ears and lifting an undeniable dark ton off of his shoulders as he relaxed, tears automatically brimming his eyes.

“i thought i fucking killed you sweets.” his voice shook, arms gently coming around you and pulling you into an embrace.

“killed me?” you frowned. “toru what are you talking about—”

“oh god you have amnesia—”

“no!” you laughed. “what do you mean by almost killed me? you didn’t do anything.”

“i did everything.” he spoke flatly. “i fucked up that lasso lift. i pushed you up too hard and we fell. i cut you with my blade i made you bleed—”

“toru that was an accident.” you pulled back and your chest hurt over the devastated look on his face, wiping his tears and kissing his nose. “remember— aki’s partner felt just like this and we had to tell him too it was an accident. you can’t control something like that. at all. it’s just unfortunate circumstance.”

“i know but i still feel like—” he wiped his eyes and swallowed. “i still feel like i could’ve done something different. it should’ve been me and not you and i should’ve—”

“toru don’t even don’t think about things like that.” you shook your head. “there wasn’t anything you could’ve done, baby. and that’s okay.”

you gently scooched over on the bed and patted the spot next to yours, satoru immediately climbing and settling in, clinging on to you as he placed his head on your chest with his arm firm but careful around your waist, suddenly feeling how exhausted he actually was from the days he spent restless.

you couldn’t have imagined the pain satoru must’ve gone through waiting for you to wake up. you didn’t know how he even fucking managed as you would’ve been torn into bits and pieces not knowing if he was going to live or not, looking at his limp bloody body the way he had to look at yours and it reminding you of the event that brought you both the most trauma and grief.

you couldn’t believe you almost went out the same way.

satoru confirmed your thoughts later and filled you in on the results of the international skating union competition, rubbing salt into the wound a little more upon learning that you landed fourth, nearly there as you couldn’t help but cry a bit in your hospital bed when he told you that you could’ve had a spot, satoru hugging you and reassuring you that you’d both have your shot at it in the next four years.

your family was relieved that you were awake, tons of people piling in and giving you sweets and food that satoru hungrily eyed and gawked over, you laughing and passing him the ones he particularly enjoyed most as you conversed with your relatives.

and recovery was thankfully easy— doctors orders being just you taking it light and being careful not to bonk your head against anything, as well as taking care of the laceration on your leg— changing the bandage frequently every morning and night, satoru insisting he help you with that and with many other things that you needed as he tried to make up for what he still thought was his fault.

two weeks had gone by of just rest and peace and no figure skating, thinking you and satoru deserved this break, but also secretly petrified of stepping on the ice again after what had happened— neither of you wanting to hurt the other as you avoided the topic of training for the meantime at all costs.

“maybe we should work at a water park.” you suggested one day, the two of you seated on a park bench through the chilly mid january air as you shared a plate of chocolate drizzled strawberries you got from some nice lady and her fruit stand. “be lifeguards!”

“oh hell no!” he spoke with his mouthful before swallowing, readjusting the black round sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “you think i’m gonna be fine with watching random old men savoring after my wife in her little red bikini while i’m off saving some drowning kid? oh no thank you. let the kid drown.”

“toru!” you laughed, smacking his shoulder. “okay then what else?”

“janitors.”

you shrugged. “i like to clean. sometimes.”

“and your entire body is covered in those jumpsuits no stinky old men looking at—”

satoru’s phone buzzed against his jeans and he paused and pulled it out as you giggled, him barely glancing at the caller i.d before answering.

“hello?”

you mindlessly carried on plopping strawberries in your mouth and chewing.

“this is he…. oh hello! yes! how are you?”

you eyed satoru quizzically at his sudden formal change in tone, his eyes glued to the cement below.

“uh huh… really? o—okay! no yes for sure! thank you so much for the opportunity!”

opportunity?

you slowed your chewing and nudged his shoulder gently, wanting him to give you some kind of sign as to who it was on the other line.

“okay, we’ll keep in touch! thank you again!”

satoru slowly removed his phone away from his ear as the other line went dead, staring at his screen and you curiously leaning over only to see his call history log, a random number at the top.

“holy fuck.”

“what?!” you leaned in closer and tried to catch his eyes with yours, his shocked wide gaze slowly flittering to your face.

“that was the national olympic committee.”

you froze.

“shut the fuck up.” you covered your mouth. “toru what did they say what did they say—”

“one of the pairs that made it in the top three got disqualified.” he spat out quickly, shooting up and digging his fingers into his hair as he walked back and forth slowly in disbelief, spinning to face you. “i— i don’t know why i didn’t ask but we got bumped up.”

silence.

“we—” your chest rose and fell erratically, eyes darting around as satoru knelt down and grabbed your hands.

“baby we made it.” he tightened his grip. “we’re competing in the olympics—”

you squealed and jumped up and down and pulled satoru in, the both of you comically bouncing off the walls as you wailed and cried and blabbered on about how you couldn’t believe it and how a chance like this was even given to you, satoru lifting you and spinning you around but stopping and freaking out and apologizing profusely over your injured leg, you shaking your head and laughing, kissing him in return.

“we can’t avoid skating toru.” you spoke once you and him had settled down. “it’s literally what brought us together… and what brought us to aki. and even from you spinning me around like that it reminded me how much i missed skating with you.”

“i feel the same sweets.” he smiled, big and bright and handsome as he leaned over and kissed your rosy cheek. “i miss lifting you up and catching a glimpse of your ass underneath your—”

“toru!”

even though you and satoru were finally on board and accepting of bringing skating back into your lives, it wasn’t to say at all that the fear itself went away when you tried to do lifts or spins in the air with each other— apprehensive and scared as you practiced on the mats way more than necessary before moving choreography to the ice, satoru multiple times chickening out and needing a moment as he was petrified of hurting you again, and you glued in place at the thought of falling and slamming on the ground when you had just survived mostly unscathed.

but this wasn’t the time to be afraid over that anymore, and if akira were here, you both knew she’d smack you upside the heads and tell you to move… to get on the ice and do the sport you both loved and cherished most.

to finalize your dream and make it a reality.

and throughout the month that you and satoru spent before the commencement of the olympics, you trained like never before— no excuses as you worked tirelessly day and night with sweat literally dripping from your faces until every single goal was met and beyond, until every single throw from satoru was perfected and until every axel from you was delivered.

sometime during this month too, satoru finally got to take you out on that romantic candle lit dinner like he promised and asked you to be his girlfriend, him giddy and grinning the whole time and literally spoiling the moment as he meant to give you a chocolate dessert plate that said ‘will you be mine’ in chocolate syrupy letters, but accidentally eating it and smearing the words when he confused your plate with his, smacking his forehead repeatedly on the dining table as the silverware clattered— muttering about how dark it was and how he couldn’t fucking see, but you laughing so fucking much and clutching your stomach that your makeup smudged up at the corner of your eyes.

satoru was reminded again how much he loved you that day, because anyone else would’ve gotten tremendously annoyed and called him an idiot, but you…

you just giggled. giggled and hiccuped like always while he stared at you softly.

the love you and satoru shared stretched far beyond the concepts of what a platonic and romantic relationship was.

the love you and satoru shared was sacrifice. genuine sacrifice and yearn and absolute unadulterated love as you both without another thought would drop your careers for each other, would swap places if it meant the other would be safe from harm’s way, and would endure years of swallowing and pushing back feelings if it meant just keeping one another in your lives forever.

because that’s what birds of a feather was for to begin with.

a promise to stick together. a promise to keep each other safe.

a concept so pure and devoted that it translated onto the ice like no other pair when it came time for the olympics.

“you ready sweets?” satoru breathed out as you both stood in front of each other by the outside of the rink with interlaced fingers, shaking each other’s jitters out. “no matter what happens, we’ve already come so far and done so much, okay? we’ve done what we needed to do.”

“mhm!” you quickly nodded, satoru leaning down before you both rested your foreheads against each other’s with massive smiles on your faces, thunderous cheers echoing throughout the giant arena totally drowned out in your ears as you stared into satoru’s sparkling blue eyes.

“make aki proud.” you repeated softly, and he nodded, you hoping once again she was watching over you both.

you both stuck your pinkies out at the same time and looped them together.

“birds of a feather?” satoru beamed.

“birds of a feather.”

and you kissed your thumbs before sealing your promise.

you both watched the pair that you were going right after perform their routine, beautiful and difficult as you gnawed at your bottom lip in distress.

“toru…”

“yeah baby?”

“some of these pairs are crazy good…” you spoke over the music. “i’d honestly be happy with getting in the top twenty i don’t know if we can—”

satoru scoffed and shook his head, a sly smile as he looked over the rink with his arms crossed.

“nah, we’d win.”

and just like akira had done in her final olympic year— in her final moments, you and satoru made it known that it was your debut, that you had been hungry and desperate for this moment since the ages of six and seven, that you’d been raised and trained by a four-time olympic gold medalist for a decade as you executed the most technical and intricate moves and turns, you and satoru moving as one on the ice and identical as he took your hands and glided on the ice with you, raw emotion in your expressions that read love so clearly that it was impossible to miss.

with each lift, with each time satoru took you in his arms and spun, and with each time he simply held you close and tenderly to his chest as his blades scrapped across the ice with your pretty bows in his view— were all reminders for the two of you that partner figure skating was nothing without satoru and nothing without you.

the privilege of having another way to convey just how much you loved each other through the language of artistic expression and skates and ice, through the feel of each other’s skin, was one you nurtured and looked after and loved as the wind whipped through you and satoru due to the speed of your skates, performing quadruple axels like nothing while dropping the jaws of other figure skating pairs.

and because of this fact alone, how you both truly appreciated each other’s entities and had the indescribable power to correlate that into competitive sport—

was the reason why you and satoru won gold that day.

you and him, on your knees, gripping and hugging one another so hard and crying tears of joy as you both had come so far and gone through so much to get to where you were now, your dream now a complete and total reality as you stepped up onto that podium during the medal award ceremony just like akira had done— representing your country excellently with a big fat gold medal hung over your necks and a big fat kiss from satoru as he lip locked with you up there, flashings of cameras and bouquets and teddy bears scattered all throughout the ice in dismay.

“i love you!” satoru yelled to you over the roaring as you waved at the crowd, your mothers crying and blowing their noses and taking pictures from the edge of the rink as you and satoru cackled and pointed at them.

“i love you, toru!”

“no like seriously!” he put his waving hand down. “i wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. thank you for recognizing that i have love and dreams too baby and for not forgetting about me even when i’ve been the most annoying dipshit of your life.”

“you’ve never been that to me my god toru! where is this coming from?” he hopped off the podium once you two were given the all clear and he held a helping hand out for you to take, you doing so and carefully stepping down.

“reeaally?” he cheesed, cheeky and silly as his big pearly white smile made your cheeks flush. “so you love me then?”

“i literally would not be with you if i didn’t—”

“hooray!” he cheered, throwing his arms up as flower petals flew from his bouquets and around. “my girlfriend loves me! and we’re gonna have rough passionate olympian sex in our hotel room—”

“toru!—”

the love you and satoru shared wasn’t something silly like ‘i like you, you like me.’

it was call me when you get home.

have you eaten yet?

here, let me help you.

whatever you need.

yours and satoru’s souls were exactly the same— blended, intertwined, and stubbornly knotted together as no amount of tug and pull could unravel you both apart, satoru finding over the years that loving you was like muscle memory from the moment he met you, his nerves and reflexes gravitating him towards you on the ice that first time even when he knew there was a huge chance of him slipping and falling, but not being afraid of it at all as long as he just got to you, convinced he knew you in another life as you just felt so familiar the moment he saw your pretty little face.

and you’re so glad that he did get to you… that he stayed with you.

fourteen years of ice cream trips and sleepovers and horror movies from the moment you were teeny tiny babies to adults, experiencing the hardships of your teenage years of loss and grief, to then adulthood and college as you had the privilege of learning to navigate it with another being that was just like you, two little birds with no sense of direction other than to each other.

and it was all thanks to one woman and one woman alone.

“i honestly believe that if she was there, she would’ve brought one of those confetti poppers with dye in it and set it off.” you commented, you and satoru sitting on the grass at her grave site as you leaned your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours, having literally just come off the plane from being at the olympics— your countries olympic button up thick jackets adorning your figures as your gold medals gleamed radiantly against the sun.

“i wish she was there.” satoru hummed, and you nodded softly in agreement.

“me too… but i’m sure she was! as a little birdie.”

he chuckled, finding your hand and interlacing your fingers as you stared at her tombstone like you’d done so many times before already… except this time it was bittersweet, you having accomplished what the three of you had strived so hard for at last.

“i miss her.” you murmured. “i miss her cussing.”

your eyes flickered down to her peace offerings, the little snow angel trinket you had gotten her still pretty and glossy and her as it sat happily on her stone platform.

satoru picked his head up and kissed the top of your head, propping his chin up on it.

“i miss her too baby.” he responded softly. “everyday.”

“but— i can’t thank her enough for giving us the bullets to fire with for skating.. y’know..” you ran the pad of your index finger along her tombstone, rough and scratchy as you traced little hearts along the edges.

“and she brought us closer together, did she not?” satoru pointed out.

she did.

a woman who was clumsy and loud and erratic with the biggest potty mouth you had ever heard that was passed down to you and satoru in the blink of an eye… but man did she know what love was as she taught it to you and reminded you both of exactly what it was each and every day.

you and satoru had accepted the fact that your hearts would never be whole again, for akira had taken half of them elsewhere and into the depths of the unknown.

but you were okay with that. completely and utterly okay with that.

for love had no limits.

you wanted her to keep it, as you and satoru stitched the remaining halves of your hearts together to create a new whole, as there was no one else you both would rather have that part of you with them forever besides akira.

and yours and satoru’s stitched up hearts grew increasingly bigger and fonder even after a couple of years later, even after winning three more olympic gold medals, you and him back at the same place in front of akira’s grave like always, sitting and laughing and chatting— but with two little baby toddlers that were half of you and half of satoru as they blubbered on about ‘mama aki’ and her trophies, a delicate twinkling ring on your finger and a golden band around satoru’s as your little family had a picnic over her final resting place.

“papa!” your son exclaimed, satoru immediately turning his attention to him in the midst of scarfing down a turkey sandwich.

“yes my offspring?”

you playfully glared at your husband.

“why do your eyes look scarier in the day?”

“HAH!” you slapped a hand over your mouth to hush your cackling, satoru’s face absolutely taken aback and offended.

“they do!” your daughter giggled. “they do! they do!—”

“baby do something!” satoru whined, shoulders slumping as he threw his head back. “i’m being bullied by five year old’s!”

you giggled and kissed his cheek, his pout quickly turning into a soft little grin as his face flushed pink.

“but your papa’s eyes are pretty you guys! and they match yours!”

“mmm— nope! scary!”

your two twin toddlers giggled uncontrollably as they thought being mean to their dad was the funniest thing in the world, you laughing with them as satoru flopped back dramatically and completely laid down on the grass with his eyes looking straight up at the bright sky.

“s’okay.” he spoke flatly. “if even my pretty little wife thinks my suffering is funny i’ll just burn my eyes to a crisp—”

“toru!” you slapped his knee. “too graphic in front of the kiddies.”

“but my suffering!—”

“mommy mommy!” your daughter tugged at your sleeve and pointed to the top of akira’s tombstone, a cute perfect white and brown bird perched up on the edge and peering curiously at the four of you, the creature not alarmed whatsoever of your children’s sudden movements as they scrambled to get closer to it.

satoru propped himself up with an elbow and stared before you both locked eyes, knowing growing smiles on your faces as he fully sat up— leaning and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger.

aki.

and it was like you and satoru were reminded again of your promise that you still told each other every day.

a promise that consisted of your years together… of your love, of your undying fervor of sticking together, of your need of keeping each other safe…

of birds of a feather.

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#Ah. There he is. That motherfucker. What a tool. [OOC]#I'll never find a moment of peace. Even in the silence. [Meme. Specify Muse]#I swear we had the best intentions. [Answer]#I might have wept but there was no one around to prove it. [Queue]#When does a man become a monster? [Veld. Isms]#My heart could be burning but you wouldn't see it on my face. [Veld. Visage]#Is this the price I'm paying for past mistakes? [Veld. HC]#What is grief if not love preserving? [Veld. IC]#You haven't given into fear before. Why start now? [Jules. Isms]#I have always been full of light. [Jules. Visage]#They should be terrified of you. [Jules. HC]#I just wanna laugh through it all. [Jules. IC]#I just want to survive. [Ruluf. Isms]#I am going to find some trouble. I am going to make some trouble. [Ruluf. Visage]#I still know how to take the abuse. [Ruluf. HC]#Careful with me. I'm volatile. [Ruluf. IC]#Plenty of monsters know how to play at being human. [Vincent. Isms]#Not yet corpses. Still we rot. [Vincent. Visage]#This time around I'll make you proud. [Vincent. HC]#An echo of inflicted evil. [Vincent. IC]#Life isn't easy. Life isn't fair. [Ren. Isms]#Who we are versus who we need to survive. [Ren. Visage]#I will be the one to make it out alive. I will be the one to survive. [Ren. HC]#Fight it or accept it. [Ren. IC]#I fell in love with the fire long ago. [Rude. Isms]#He who creates misery also has the ability to destroy it with kindness. [Rude. Visage]#Do we get what we deserve? [Rude. HC]#One of us is gonna lose. [Rude. IC]#Rather die than give up on the fight. [Elena. Isms]#I wanna be loud. So loud. [Elena. Visage]

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gutsby · 3 months ago

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Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

#IN CONCLUSION……….WE MAKIN BABIES #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us fic

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olis-inkwell-symposium · 3 months ago

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Developing Backstory: Bringing Characters to Life

1. Where It All Started: The Character’s Origin

Place of Birth: Where did your character first see the world? Think about the impact of this place—was it a busy city where they had to fight for attention or a quiet village where everyone knew everyone’s business? This location doesn’t just say where they’re from; it shapes how they see the world.

Family and Upbringing: What was their family like? Were their parents loving or distant? Maybe they were raised by someone other than their parents—a mentor, an older sibling, or even alone. Family (or the lack of it) is usually one of the most significant factors in shaping who someone becomes.

Society’s Expectations: What was expected of them when they were young? Possibly, they were born into wealth, with all the pressure to continue the family legacy, or maybe they were raised to be invisible in a world where survival mattered. How does this influence who they are now? Do they accept or reject those expectations?

2. Childhood Events That Left a Mark

First Taste of Conflict: Think about the first time the character realized the world wasn’t a perfect place. Maybe they witnessed violence or faced betrayal. What was that moment, and how did it stick with them? This moment usually lays the foundation for the character’s emotional landscape—fear, hope, ambition, or distrust all come from these early life lessons.

Childhood Dreams: When they were young, what did they want to be? Every child has dreams—did they want to be a knight, a scholar, or even just someone who could travel the world? Did they have to give up these dreams? How does that lost dream shape them now?

Formative Relationships: Who was their first best friend, mentor, or enemy? Childhood friendships and relationships often create deep bonds or wounds that last into adulthood. Did they have a mentor who taught them everything, only to betray them? Did they lose a childhood friend that still haunts them?

3. The Teen Years: Where They Start to Become Who They Are

Trials and Tribulations: What’s the biggest challenge they faced as they grew up? Was it losing a loved one, failing at something important, or maybe being forced into a role they didn’t want? These teenage years are where the emotional armor starts forming—how did the difficulties they faced shape them into the person they are now?

Education or Training: How did they learn what they know? Were they formally trained by an institution, learning everything by the book, or did they learn through experience, like a street-smart survivalist? What impact does their education or lack of it have on how they interact with others?

Teenage Bonds: Did they have a first love or a first major falling out with someone close to them? These experiences often create emotional scars or connections that they carry with them into adulthood. How does that past friendship or romance influence their behavior now?

4. Key Life Events: The Big Moments That Define Them

Trauma or Loss: Was there a moment that changed everything? Think about a significant loss—maybe a loved one, their home, or a sense of identity. How does this event affect their worldview? Do they build walls around themselves or dive into relationships with reckless abandon because they fear losing more?

Victory or Failure: Did they experience a moment of triumph or devastating defeat? Success and failure leave their marks. Were they celebrated as a hero once, leading them to overconfidence, or did they fail when everyone was counting on them, leading to crippling self-doubt?

Betrayal: Was there a betrayal that shaped their adult relationships? Whether it is a friend, family member, or lover, betrayal often changes how we trust others. Do they close themselves off, constantly expecting betrayal, or try to rebuild trust, afraid of being left alone again.

5. Where They Stand Now: The Present Moment

What Drives Them Today: What’s the one thing pushing them forward now? Is it revenge, the need to restore their family’s honor, or maybe even just survival? Whatever it is, this motivation should tie directly back to their experiences.

Emotional Baggage: What unresolved emotional wounds are they carrying? Everyone has scars from their past—some are visible, others not so much. How do these emotional wounds affect how they treat others, how they react to conflict, and how they move through the world.

Current Relationships: Who’s still in their life from their past, and how do they feel about it? Did they reconnect with someone they thought they’d lost, or are they haunted by unresolved issues with people from their past? Do they have any ongoing tensions or regrets tied to these people?

6. Tying Themes to Their Backstory

Cultural or Mythological Influence: How does their personal story tie into the larger world’s mythology or culture? Do they carry a family legacy, a curse, or a prophecy that hangs over them? How does this influence their interactions with others and their perception of themselves?

Recurring Symbols: Are there objects, dreams, or people that keep showing up in their life, symbolizing their journey? Perhaps a recurring nightmare haunts them, or they carry an object from their past that’s both a source of comfort and pain

7. Character Arc: The Journey from Past to Present

How Does Their Past Shape Their Growth?: Every character has emotional baggage that needs resolving. How does their backstory drive their arc? Do they need to forgive themselves, let go of the past, or accept who they’ve become to move forward?

Unanswered Questions from the Past: Are there any mysteries in their backstory they need to solve? Maybe they’re unaware of their true parentage, or maybe there’s a forgotten event from their childhood that will resurface and change everything.

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luvth0t · 8 months ago

Text

NEED ME? ━ L.N

in which you’re on vacation with your ex boyfriend, the only man who’s been able to make you cum in recent times.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, eavesdropping, cocky lando, ex lovers, conversations of masturbation and inability to orgasm, hair pulling, oral both receiving, overstimulation, praise, slight degradation, choking ect.

it was a throw away question. one lando probably shouldn’t have brushed off.

“you’re sure you’re fine with her coming?” max had asked so casually despite it being on this tip of his tongue for the last hour, eyes not lifting from his phone to see the way lando looked at him with raised eyebrows.

the driver said your name in confusion, even chuckled. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?” lando followed; a rhetorical question. he knew why max was asking such thing.

he watched as max shrugged, hummed mindlessly as if he didn’t have a response prepared.

“wouldn’t catch me wanting to share a roof with my ex,” max mused; putting his phone down and finally meeting lando’s eyes, glare more so, quick to put his hands up in defence. “just saying. something to think about,” max quickly added.

he had his best friends best interest at heart.

“so what? we tell her she can’t come?” lando scoffed, shaking his head as he leant back into the seat he was occupying. “we’re friends. hasn’t been an issue before.” lando dismissed.

and he wasn’t lying. you’d broken up almost a year ago, which was concerning at first considering you shared the same friend group. were friends before lovers.

but it worked, you’d remained friends. saw each other every now and then, in a group setting. you weren’t as close, obviously, but it wasn’t awkward.

“no i know,” max huffed; even rolling his eyes. “maybe two villa’s is something to think about, that’s all.” max shrugged once more. he wasn’t just thinking of lando, but you as well, his other dear friend.

the brit shook his head, not giving in to the worry max seemed to hold. “not necessary. no different than being at the same hotel.” lando concluded.

he’d seen you on nights out, had conversations with you on boats; you still got an invite and paddock pass to his home race.

there was nothing to worry about. if you two weren’t capable of being friends, such thing would’ve been exposed.

that’s what lando thought anyways.

standing on the deck of a ten bedroom villa in the south of france however, he realised maybe he should’ve considered max’s words more carefully.

small doses of you seemed to differ from your constant presence.

the break up was civil, lando was grateful for such thing. it’d been him who ended things, purely because he felt as if he couldn’t give you the time you deserve. it was a cop out, he feared, realising things were almost too good between the pair of you.

he wasn’t sure he could commit to putting you through a relationship where you wouldn’t get the time and treatment you deserved.

you took it well, an angel in fact; you wanted to hate him for it. but you couldn’t bring yourself too. selfless enough to put the peace of your mutual friends and him first. plus, losing him entirely left a bitter taste in your mouth.

you’d mourned the relationship, cried in private and cursed him to your best friend; and moved on. well, appeared to have.

it went unspoken, amongst the group; in front of you two at least, and between you two as well. not exactly something you were ready to laugh at yet. it just seemed to go… unaddressed.

until it was night two, dinner at a fancy restaurant with maybe a few too many bottles of wine meant piling into ubers to get back to the villa.

it sort of just happened, lando shuffling into the car behind you; leaving you in the middle of him and max; pietra on max’s lap and tom in the front.

your senses were consumed of him immediately, not able to avoid him considering you were practically pressed into his side in an attempt to give pietra enough room.

you glanced up at him once, smiling sheepishly to see his eyes already on you.

“you still wear it,” lando hummed casually, pinky finger reaching to brush over the bracelet he’d bought you a few months into your relationship, grazing your wrist as he did so.

your cheeks went a shade of pink at the observation, and if it weren’t for the fact you were wine drunk you probably would’ve made up an excuse as to why the piece of metal still found it’s way onto your wrist everyday.

“it’s my favourite,” you replied; glancing down at the piece as your hand moved to fiddle with it, small smile playing on your lips.

you missed the grin spread on lando’s face, a sense of pride fulfilling him as he recounted the stress it had caused him just picking out the damn bracelet. he was relieved to see you still wearing it, for some reason.

“i’ve got good taste.” lando bragged, eyes practically begging for yours to meet his again; smiling in amusement when they did as you nudged him.

you were suddenly even more aware of the closeness, the way your knees were touching, how his arm had stretched to rest over the headrest behind you. it was forced proximity sure, but an odd sense of familiarity that you hadn’t felt in a while was accompanying it.

“most of the time,” you mused, earning a nudge back ━ which had a giggle escaping you, one you attempted to hush; not wanting to draw attention to you and lando’s conversation.

if it did, the others in the car would’ve seen the way lando’s face lit up at the sound. he hadn’t made you laugh like that in months, he’d forgotten how good it felt to do so.

he’d almost forgotten how easy you were to be around. how easy it was to fall for you in the first place.

it was as if the universe was punishing him for such thing, because suddenly you were all he could think about once more.

that night, he was simply relaxing in his room; when you came waltzing in.

“p,” your voice hummed as you knocked; pushing the door open before lando could muster a response from inside. “do you have my top━ oh shit, sorry!” you’d cut yourself short when you found yourself standing in lando’s room. not pietra and max’s.

who was luckily just lounging on the bed in his joggers, not far from switching the lamp off and going to sleep.

but he had been shocked to see you enter his room in just a towel.

“you’re fine,” lando chuckled; having sit up. “we swapped rooms this morning… figured they should have a private bathroom,” lando explained; watching as your face softened in some sort of relief.

you hadn’t been crazy. regardless, still embarrassed; the redness on your cheeks clear as you nodded, cringing ever so slightly.

“right; my bad, sorry,” you repeated; not even wanting to imagine what else you could’ve walked in on.

lando simply chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes glanced over your figure just once; unable to help himself. having to swallow to not let himself think back to what he knows is underneath the towel keeping you modest.

“i’m gonna go,” you declared; sheepishly smiling as you turned on your heel; cringing once more now that you were out of sight, not hiding the urgency as you practically fled his room and slammed the door behind you.

lando hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until you left, body relaxing as he flopped back onto the mattress; a curse leaving his lips.

the next morning, you were there again. obviously. yet he couldn’t see you, nor could you see him. so technically he was eavesdropping; but it hadn’t been on purpose.

lando was out on his balcony first, which was above yours it appeared; mindlessly scrolling through his phone before arabella’s voice became audible, who you were rooming with this trip.

“since when did nicolas get ripped,” she’d posed to you, peering at the man who was dipping in the pool; your eyes following her gaze from where you both sat in deck chairs; smoothies in hand.

“he’s always been cute,” you pointed out; shrugging ever so slightly as you adjusted the sunglasses atop your head, rolling your eyes the moment you caught glance of arabella’s grin.

“and he’s always been into you.” arabella chimed, and you should’ve expected her to steer the conversation in such direction.

lando whoever, who hadn’t scrolled past the tik tok which was playing for the fourth time now, had not expected such words.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you and nicolas? yeah right. you two were close friends, he knew that much. but nothing more. surely not.

“we’re friends bella,” you dismissed; shaking your head. slightly flirty friends as of recent, you’d admit. but just friends.

“so? doesn’t have to stay that way,” arabella had grinned ━ and lando felt betrayed; as if it should be him the pair of you were talking about. not nicolas.

“yes it does.” you laughed. “i’m not dating within the friend group ever again,” you spoke in such certainty it had lando confused, he didn’t think it faired that bad the first time.

but he also wasn’t opposed to your declaration. not that he was close to nicolas, in fact he probably knew him the least. but he was a brother of a childhood friend, who’d tagged along the last few trips. and lando had no complaints of the guy.

“don’t be silly,” arabella huffed. “i’m not saying fall in love with him. just that he could end the sex drought you’re stuck in.” arabella hummed, your eyes widening as you hit her softly.

“what? no one can hear us!” arabella spoke dramatically, and you rolled your eyes; no argument because you figured she was right.

however she wasn’t, because lando was still listening. and his interest had suddenly spiked.

“i am not… stuck in a sex drought,” you huffed; not sounding one bit convincing as you glanced at the pool. “men just suck. i’ve given up on having an orgasm.” your words were dramatic, and playful, but still a bit of truth to them.

suddenly lando felt guilty for overhearing, or purposefully listening, but he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

your words made no sense to him; considering nights with you would always lead to multiple orgasms for both of you.

and it wasn’t as if you were short on options.

“gotta do everything yourself these days,” arabella sighed out dramtically in agreement; but she had a boyfriend, and your friendship with the girl wasn’t one for many secrets; you knew she was only ‘relating’ out of sympathy.

truth was; since lando, nothing or no one could compare. not even your own damn fingers.

“can’t even get myself off.” you huffed out almost ashamed, and you only whined when you met arabella’s shocked eyes and slack jaw.

lando suddenly felt intrusive, and flustered from the idea of you touching yourself; one he’d grown familiar with due to long distance. suddenly he was standing and ready to walk himself inside in his room.

“is your body like… broken?” arabella sounded bewildered, and you could only huff.

you’d blame it on stress, or any of your medication if it was possible; you’ve heard stories, knew there could be many reasons as to why your sex drive and urges have suddenly changed. none aligned with your circumstances however.

“just deprived i think,” you sighed.

lando needed to get his mind off your sexual need’s immediately, deciding to go on a run with max to occupy himself. to get you off his mind.

and it worked, until he got back to the villa. hot and out of breath, he found himself in the kitchen ━ pouring a glass of water with ice, eyes wandering out the fold out doors that exposed the luxurious back yard. decking, sun lounges, a pool; and his closest friends.

and his ex girlfriend. in a little bikini. with another man’s hands on her.

he couldn’t help but scoff at the sight, you resting on your stomach as nicolas rubbed sunscreen into your back ━ watching as you grinned and spoke up to him momentarily. you were flirting, he knew that look.

his takeaways from his… eavesdropping, was that you didn’t plan to pursue nicolas. so what the fuck was this?

he wanted to laugh, you were going to seek answers to your problems in nicolas? he almost felt offended; if you needed good sex so badly he felt as if he was the obvious candidate.

“careful mate, you’re staring,” max’s words snapped lando out of his thoughts; causing him to glare at the man quickly, bringing his glass to his lips, unaware that his grip was so tight his knuckles were white.

max’s amusement only escalated, eyebrows raising as he chuckled quietly.

“i wasn’t.” lando murmured, leaning back against the counter. “just didn’t know that was a thing,” he tried to shrug off; eyes returning to where you now sat up, rubbing sunscreen into nicolas’s back now.

had he been oblivious to the pair of you?

“i don’t think it is.” max shrugged, following lando’s gaze momentarily, not overanalysing the sight. everyone was friends here.

lando looked to max in doubt, to check if he was being serious.

“does it matter if it is?” max questioned, sassily too, almost a challenge; and lando was quick to scoff ━ mustering up the best chuckle he could to appear as unbothered as he wanted to be.

“no,” the mclaren driver answered almost too quickly, clearing his throat slightly. “i hope it is. would be a good match,” he overcompensated; left to only flip max off as he chuckled and hummed unconvincingly.

“whatever you say,” max mused.

lando wished he was being honest, but as time passed by it became quite clear he was lying.

dinner that night you were sat at opposite ends of the long table, like usual; regardless, lando’s eyes were trained on you for the majority of the night.

you and nicolas of course. who’d snagged the seat next to you.

forced to watch as you shared food, laughed and chattered away in your own little world.

lando felt sick from the sight; that used to be him. should be him. and while he could only blame himself for it not being him, it was a cruel reminder of what he’d lost.

he felt utterly helpless however, because there was nothing he could do.

he couldn’t even express his dismay to anyone as he watched nicolas help you in the car. left to watch as you both giggled and stumbled up to the villa ahead of the group.

he wanted to intervene, to make his presence known to hopefully at least make it awkward. but he couldn’t bring himself too.

not when you’d been such an angel in the breakup, made things so easy for him from the start of the relationship to now. it just wouldn’t be fair to ruin this for you.

even though it was all he wanted to do.

he noted how you two were first off to go ‘sleep’ that night, halfway through the movie that had been put on. and he suddenly wished he’d downed a few more glasses of red at the restaurant, maybe then he wouldn’t have the capacity to brainstorm up everything and anything you and nicolas could be doing tonight.

he wasn’t going to say it was what kept him up, tossing and turning and unable to fall asleep; but it definitely played on his mind.

it was starting to make sense to him at least; he hadn’t been around you without distractions since the breakup. it suddenly became clear how helpful those distractions are.

3:42 the clock read.

lando hadn’t gotten a second of shut eye, and after two hours of laying there; he conceded. deciding to get a glass of water as if that would be the solution to all his problems.

instead he was just met with the problem itself; you.

surprise, surprise. nicolas was not the answer to your prayers.

you were already keen to tell arabella ‘i told you so’ when you returned to your room. having spent the night in nicolas’.

he was a nice guy, until the clothes came off.

it was nothing new, you on top; he came. you didn’t. he then tried to get you to finish with his fingers, and you faked an orgasm when it became clear he wasn’t finding your clit any time soon.

your frustrations had now multiplied, it felt pathetic. you were ready to give up.

you snuck out the moment he fell asleep, in the kitchen to get a glass of water and for a few moments to yourself.

“shouldn’t be surprised you’re up,” lando made his presence known, having debated running back to his room when he noticed you occupying the kitchen.

typical.

“needed a drink,” you hummed sheepishly; and for some reason when your eyes met his you felt intimidated; as if you needed refuge, turning back around to the fridge to fill your cup up with ice.

maybe it was because you were already sexually frustrated. or the fact you were stood with your ex boyfriend after sneaking out of another guys room.

“same,” lando hummed; moving behind you to grab a glass for himself, and you could feel him waiting behind you as you poured water into the glass.

“nice night?” lando asked when you moved aside so he too could fill his glass, not looking at you for the time being so you wouldn’t decipher the motives in the question. he didn’t need you to know how concerned he was with your night.

you nodded quickly, humming as you still had a mouth full of water, leaning against the counter now.

“yeah, yeah,” you spoke; pursing your lips. it had been. until it wasn’t. “restaurant was lovely,” you smiled; shifting on your feet slightly as you took in his appearance, even in the dull lightly.

his messy curls that look slept on, slightly tired eyes. he looked cozy.

lando nodded, so much on the tip of his tongue. maybe if it was a different hour of the day he’d have the common sense to not speak his mind, but he was slightly sleep deprived and going insane from his own thoughts.

“you know my balcony is above yours,” lando told you; randomly, your eyebrows furrowing ━ coughing out a slight laugh. you weren’t sure where this conversation was going to lead, your guess was awkward silence. not him blurting out something… irrelevant.

it took a few moments for it to dawn on you, the slight curve of lando’s lips into a smirk causing your eyes to widen in realisation.

you’d only been out on the balcony once today.

“oh my god,” you mumbled; cringing as he chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “shut up!” you whisper yelled, leaning forward to whack his arm, which only had him laughing once more as his hands flew up in defence.

“i wasn’t eavesdropping! i swear,” lando mused, shaking his head as your eyebrows raised.

“great, so you just happened to hear all about my sad sex life,” you huffed, and lando couldn’t help the small smile that was refusing to leave his lips; always having adored the sight of you flustered and sheepish.

it didn’t help, the sight of you wearing what seemed to be just an oversized shirt. reminiscent of how his shirts would drape over your body.

“yeah,” lando confirmed sympathetically, causing you to whack him again; no force in your actions as you groaned audibly.

you couldn’t think of anyone you’d rather not hear that conversation; ever so grateful you hadn’t been completely honest with arabella.

you would die of humiliation if you’d told her how you compared every man to lando, how you found no one was able to make you feel anywhere near as good.

but regardless, there was a level of comfort. you trusted the man in front of you.

“nicolas though hm?” lando spoke light heartedly, reminding you of the man you’d just been in bed with.

was it bad he’d slipped your mind completely? having forgotten that he was who sparked such conversation this morning.

“did he make you cum?” his follow up question had you dumbfounded, having not expected such blunt words as your lips parted. “can i ask that?” lando added with a reassuring laugh. but you knew that look in his eyes.

they were darker than usual, he was staring at you intently; practically begging you to step closer.

“no,” you cleared your throat, opting for honesty. “he didn’t.” you huffed, eyes avoiding his for a moment as if you were ashamed. as if it was your fault.

the relief lando felt was pathetic, not that he wished a bad time upon you. or anyone for that matter. but god it felt like the door had been swung right open for him.

he was right; of course nicolas wasn’t going to do it for you.

“i know you can make yourself cum.” lando chimed, pushing himself off the counter and taking a couple steps towards you; ridding any distance as he stood in front of you. “used to be able to at least, seen it myself,” he told you as if you could forget.

you swallowed intently, the tension now almost suffocating. sleeping with an ex was something you swore against; recipe for disaster. but it seemed awfully appealing when it looked like lando did right now.

your cheeks were pink, thinking about the countless times you’d gotten yourself off on facetime calls with the driver, purely because neither of you could wait any longer to see one another again.

“not the same anymore.” your voice was barely above a whisper, it didn’t need to be; not when he was only centimetres away, looking down at you as if he was ready to ravish you.

lando’s eyebrow raised at that, eyes flickering across your face.

it wasn’t the same, you’d worked out the hard way. you only relied on your own devices when you had no other choice; and with that would be lando on the of phone with words of encouragement and direction.

“what, need me to talk you through it again?” his words were teasing as his hand moved to cup your cheek; your stomach turning at the thought. at the fact he seemed like he knew that would do it for you.

you let out a slight breath, shaking your head but you held little confidence in doing so.

“need me to touch you?” he added on, offer sounding almost like a request; words so hushed you could’ve missed them. but you didn’t, you heard him loud and clear.

his eyes were pouring into yours as if he pitied you, but the smirk on his face showed he wanted nothing more than to be the one to solve your problems.

you didn’t even need to think about it, no ifs or buts entering your mind; nothing could make the idea of him seem unappealing.

“please,” you mumbled; eyes pouring up into his, watching as a wicked grin spread on his features; one that made your knees weak.

it was all lando needed to hear, lips pressing against yours in an instant; it coming back to the pair of you quickly. feeling so natural, the way your body melted into his touch; the way your lips moved against each other.

your hands finding a grip on his shirt as his spread across your hips.

lando didn’t waste any time; he wanted to make you cum.

he wasn’t sure if it was because it seemed like a challenge, or because he missed you; but god did he want nothing more than to make you feel good:

his knee pushed between your thighs first, your legs spreading; immediately aware of the finger he was tracing up your inner thigh.

as much as lando missed the feeling of your lips against his, he loved watching you react to every touch and feeling. pulling away but not creating much distance as his fingers brushed over your clothed folds.

you took a sharp breath, shifting your weight to lean against the counter as the anticipation built within, eyes locked on his as he teasingly brushed your clothed clit as well.

he could feel your soaked panties, a wet patch that you knew wasn’t there when you first entered the kitchen.

“you know it doesn’t make sense,” lando started speaking through a breath; his fingers pushing your panties aside with ease, swiping through your folds; spreading your wetness to your clit. “because you’re always so easy for me baby,” he practically cooed as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your jaw fell slack, hips pushing against his hand lightly as you whimpered; cheeks hinting at his taunting words which you’d almost forgotten about and how crazy they drove you.

his free hand returned to your cheek, cupping the side of your face and adjusting your head to ensure you were looking up at him; his head tilting ever so slightly as he gazed down at you.

“so responsive,” he added in a hum; looking incredibly smug, thumb settling on your clit ━ and the moan that escaped you as he circled your sensitive bud had lando’s jaw clenching. he’d missed your pretty sounds.

he was toying with you, teasing. his fingers moving slowly, thumb only lightly circling your clit. yet you hadn’t felt this good in fucking forever, face contorting in pleasure proving such thing.

lando could get lost in the sight, not able to help himself from wanting to give you more.

his fingers gradually picked up the pace, thumb applying more pressure now; but it was when he curled his fingers, grazing that spot he never failed to miss, that you hadn’t been able to find, that a slightly louder moan escaped you.

“ah, ah,” lando hushed you; tapping your cheek lightly. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando hummed through heavy breaths, hating that he had to ask such thing of you.

he wanted to hear you lose control, hear you scream his name like you had countless of times. but he’d hate to be interrupted and have the current sight cut short.

you whined quietly at the request, biting down on your bottom lip as you tried to keep any noise at bay; knowing you had no choice. waking anyone up would be less than ideal.

but somehow, the thought of being caught was the least of your concerns.

your back arched when he added a third, thumb still expertly playing with your clit; your quiet whimpers and moans were growing in volume once more.

lando took matters into his own hands, the hand cupping your cheek shifting so he could tap his pointer finger on your bottom lip; and he had to shut himself up this time as you invited two digits past your lips without second thought.

“fuck,” he mumbled out; eyes fixated on the way you looked up at him with his fingers in your mouth; so similar to the sight of when you’d suck him off. his hard on was almost painful.

your moans were muffled now, thankfully, as your hips pushed forward once more; slowly losing control over your body as the pleasure continued to build.

you’d made a mess on your thighs, his fingers working in and out of you perfectly; beginning to curl his fingers repeatedly had your eyes rolling back.

“yeah, right there baby?” lando mumbled; despite you unable to respond. “gonna make a mess on my fingers yeah? think you deserve to cum,” he smirked ━ and if you could’ve you would’ve cried out, nodding quickly at his words.

your stomach tightened, it was sudden; more sudden than you remembered, lando having caught on to the fact you were cumming before you did; squeezing his fingers as you came undone.

his body was practically holding you up against the counter, vision going white for a moment as your muffled moans filled the air, hips bucking involuntarily once more.

lando wanted to curse himself for ever depriving himself of such thing, watching as you shook in front of him; fingers moving to let you ride out your high, until he was pulling them from your panties, and mouth respectively.

your eyes fluttered open, nothing but awe as you gazed up at him through hooded eyes; panting ever so lightly.

he was smiling cockily, if he didn’t know the root of your issue before, he did now. the way you needed him.

you couldn’t even crush his inflating ego, not when he’d made you cum so hard in a matter of minutes; giving you what you’d been chasing the past few months.

he was about to kiss you again, after moments of admiring your face; but the sound of a door shutting had the moment ruined, reminding both you and him of where you are and what you’re meant to be.

definitely not meant to be caught having a moment at 4 in the morning.

lando was quick in taking a few large strides across the kitchen, positioning himself on the other side of the island as you quickly tugged your shirt down and ran your hand through your hair.

when pietra walked in, it was an innocent sight. plenty of distance between the pair of you, not enough lights on to expose your flushed cheeks or lando’s glistening fingers.

you pretended to be surprised as you brought your glass to your lips, leaning against the counter because your legs were still shaky, lando nodding towards the blonde.

“can’t sleep?” lando hummed in question.

“need to fill my water up.” pietra nodded with a smile, eyes flickering between you in suspicion for a brief moment as she realised this was almost an awkward thing to walk in on. you and him.

if only she knew.

you nodded in agreement, raising your glass of water as lando let out a small chuckle.

“if you need a late night snack, the donuts are great,” lando spoke again; your eyes falling onto him, and you were sure your face was bright red as you watched him bring his fingers to his lips; licking them clean.

you coughed on air, playing it off as if your water went down the wrong way; pietra oblivious as she nodded with a smile.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

the smirk he’d sent you was sickening, and with that he was saying good night and excusing himself.

lando ended up needing a cold shower that night, with his own hand and images of you burned into his mind.

you were hoping your head would be clear when you woke up, but it was only more scrambled.

you’d gotten what you wanted, was it greedy to only want more?

“good night?” arabella had questioned you, sitting next to you on the long dining table; bowls of cereal in front of pair of you; and the smirk on her face was quite telling.

except she didn’t know the half of it.

“yeah, yeah it was good,” you hummed; eyes shifting to the other end of the table; where lando sat, already staring at you. the mischievous glint in his eye had you looking away quickly, the sly smirk not helping you in trying to play it cool to arabella.

you knew he was listening.

“did your… problem get solved?” arabella attempted to ask without outing you, so oblivious to the fact lando could easily piece together her words.

your eyes narrowed towards her, as if to say ‘shut up.’ which she only looked back at you with wide eyes, finding herself quite discrete.

“well?” arabella pushed, whisper yelling.

“yes,” you huffed; in hopes she would shut up, you could feel lando’s eyes burning into you. the man who solved your problem, unbeknownst to arabella who thought it was nicolas who was responsible.

“ah! how exciting,” arabella grinned; standing up and taking her bowel to the kitchen, only then did you let your eyes fall back on the british driver.

who looked oh so amused, you had to flee; following in the girls steps.

it set the tone for the next few days; longing looks, tempting smirks and lingering touches.

you couldn’t bring yourself to go out of your way and seek more of him; despite how much you wanted it. nicolas had been forgotten about, failing to explain your sudden interest and now lack of in the guy.

lando was all you could think about. how couldn’t you? he’d fingered you in the kitchen, bringing you to a mind blowing orgasm you’d been craving; one you hadn’t experienced since him. and once again, it had gone unaddressed.

the tension was clear; you got peace from the fact he was in the same boat as you.

you hated that he’d walked off so smug that night and you yourself had nothing to brag about, left to accept the fact that you needed him. had missed him.

and he knew it.

so maybe you were tactical, every day the dresses got shorter. bikini’s got smaller. you wanted to see him squirm.

which was easy.

it was ridiculous, how often you felt his gaze burning into you; feeling the heat on your skin from such thing. you’d blame the hot summer sun for the the constant blush on your cheeks but in reality it was him.

made to feel better by the way his jaw was constantly clenched. hands fiddling with one another. leg bouncing impatiently because he was furious with the fact you were no longer his, he couldn’t whisk you away and tear your clothes off like he wanted too.

left to simply stare. dwell on the facts. wish that he somehow gets a moment alone with you again.

there were sliding doors.

two minutes alone underneath the cabin on a boat, both trying to find something to drink. he swore you were about to kiss him before max came bouncing down the stairs.

you’d all gone out one night, somehow it was only you two left at the bar. lando was convinced this was it, he was going to drag you off to the bathroom.

but then arabella appeared, demanding shots.

you’d never admit that you went out to the kitchen most nights, hoping he too would be awake at such ridiculous hour again.

you tried not to get frustrated, even with the knowledge there was only a couple days till you’d be flying back home to reality.

finally however, you got lucky.

lando had gone on a run; unbeknownst to you, who had slept in.

you rejected plans of going to a winery, choosing for a day by the pool to save energy to go out tonight like planned.

your group of friends had attempted to protest your decision, but you insisted. bribed them with a promise you would do some baking while they were out.

that’s where lando found you.

stood in the kitchen. of course.

tiny bikini. typical.

and no one else in sight. lovely.

“smells fucking amazing.” lando hummed; slightly breathless as he sauntered into the kitchen, moving to stand against the island ━ a safe distance between the pair of you.

the voice had startled you, jumping slightly as you turned around.

you smiled appreciatively at his words, attempting to not stare at his exposed torso. tanned skin, beads of sweat decorating it. his muscles only more prominent as he crossed his arms, flexing invitingly.

“would feel bad letting such a big kitchen go to waste,” you explained; shrugging ever so slightly as your eyes returned to the chocolate chip cookies you were currently making. refuge from the sight of him.

he chuckled, and nodded; not that you saw. but his eyes didn’t leave you.

he should go up to his room.

“who’s home?” he couldn’t help but ask, feet planted. he wasn’t going anywhere.

the question had you facing what you were trying to ignore; the fact it was just the pair of you. it was dangerous knowledge.

“just us,” you spoke through a breath. if the tension wasn’t clear before, those two words had it falling upon the pair of you like bricks.

lando nodded once more, lips pursing. you were so tempting. this was what he’d been hoping for. he was impressed he even had the mental strength to consider running off. hiding in his room till your friends returned.

that idea didn’t last long though. moving towards you, you heard him approaching; his presence was demanding.

he was behind you, causing you to freeze. breath stuck in your throat.

“you’re driving me crazy.” he’d whispered, despite no fear of anyone overhearing; and you had to shut your eyes for a brief moment when his lips grazed your ear, ensuring you knew just how in reach he was.

you found some solace in his words, confirming your suspicions. reassuring to know you weren’t the only one going crazy. the only one feeling nostalgic.

“how so?” you played dumb, bottom lip rolling through your teeth ━ regardless your head tilted aside as his lips grazed your skin again, his breath fanning your skin.

you heard him grunt, and it would’ve made you giggle if you weren’t fighting off the urge to jump his bones.

“don’t act like it’s not on purpose.” lando huffed, hands moving to play with the fiddling strings of your bikini, fingertips only just brushing your skin.

you had to draw in another breath, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. you needed some sort of power, just a physical reminder that he too was struggling despite his admission.

so you turned on your feet, eyes flickering up to his as you shrugged your shoulders; breaths slightly irregular from the closeness. right in front of you. trapping you against the counter.

“know you haven’t forgotten that all you need to do is use your words if you want me to fuck you,” lando spoke before you could, oozing cockiness despite his wandering eyes and tense jaw; his patience wearing thin.

once more you were cornered in the kitchen by his attractive frame and blunt words that had your thighs squeezing together.

“goes both ways,” you chimed; worried if you didn’t speak now you wouldn’t get a word in. you knew how this went; it was only a matter of time till you were a mess in his hands.

his eyebrows raised, he even scoffed; if he wasn’t so eager for you to go on he would’ve reminded you it didn’t.

lando always had a kink for making you beg.

“i already got what i wanted,” you hummed; hands moving to rest on his toned abdomen, running down and across the muscles before finding the waistband of his joggers. “something you want?”

your teasing tone had lando remembering just how worked up you got him, how frustrating and almost annoying you were. how annoying it was to deal with your antics that was.

“the other night was more than enough for me baby,” lando mused; not cracking, even with your hands on his body. “always look so pretty when you cum.”

you wish his words didn’t have such a visible effect on you. how flustered you got clear by the way the blood rushed to your cheeks, even while you stood here playing with the waistband of his pants.

it was pathetic; neither of you wanting to crack first, wasting precious time because you both really thought you were above this.

able to be friends. exes who wouldn’t go back to each other.

you knew he wasn’t entirely lying; of course you could remember how you were gifted a man who got off from getting you off. how he’d spent nights with his head just buried between your thighs. making you cum countless of times before he got his dick wet.

“cold shower treat you well?” you huffed; not letting him get away with such thing. as if he wasn’t standing here with the need to fuck you.

he smirked at your words, your attitude more so; the playful banter having been something he’d missed. something that wasn’t the same since things became platonic.

“did the job.” he laughed, hands still ghosting over your hips. “jealous i can still get myself off?” he couldn’t help but chuckle; and your jaw dropped at him using confidential information against you.

your hands still on his stomach, whacking lightly which he only chuckled harder at; and if you weren’t embarrassed you’d be taking in the way the smile was lighting up his face.

“that was not something you’re meant to use against me,” you practically grumbled; eyes narrowing up at him and he practically awed at the sight, adoring eyes and all as his hand moved to cup your cheek. his grin not matching the sympathetic eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled jokingly as he leant forward; not giving you time to reply as he put the both of you out of your misery, lips connecting with yours.

it wasn’t what you’d both expected, the kiss to finally ease the tension that had been building ever since a few nights ago in the same spot; the kiss was slow. passionate and deep, but not rushed.

it didn’t last long; but was nice in the moment however. to feel him.

the urge to feel more however was soon too prominent.

your hands that had linked behind his neck soon tangled in his hair. the grip he had on your waist soon moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh within his hold which had you leaning into him.

he lazily dragged you back with him, his back hitting the kitchen island as he practically held you against his body; lips moving in sync.

you felt his hard on with the movement, contained by his joggers; your own excitement jumping as your hands left his hair to snake down between your bodies; palming him.

the groan against your lips only motivated you; and while you wish you could do what he does, stand here and tease him; you were too keen to get your hands on him. to hear more of those pretty sounds he makes.

so you simply smiled up at him as you pulled away; bending down and settling on your knees; hands tugging his pants and underwear down with you; revealing his cock.

his breaths were a lot heavier as he watched you, leaning back against the counter ever so slightly, gaze fixed downwards as a small smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth.

he hissed as your small hand wrapped around him; thumb swirling the precum ━ you loving every bit of knowing how turned you got him from just a few words and the sight of you.

he wouldn’t ever deny it either; no one did it for him like you did.

“look so pretty on your knees,” lando praised; eager to gain back some control, despite knowing he’d do anything you asked of him right now; your hand feeling much than his did the other night.

you were eager to continue to please, so you didn’t waste any time in taking him in your mouth. it was as if he knew such thing, by the way his eyes were peering down at you.

his head fell back at the sensation, one he’d missed ━ arms flexing as he gripped the counter; a few curses strung together tumbling from his lips as you practically took him in whole first go.

his tip hitting the back of your throat did little to deter you. it was natural, as if you’d done such thing only a few days ago; not months ━ second nature as your tongue swirled his cock.

your eyes remained up, looking through your lashes as your head bobbed ━ knees uncomfortably shifting against the tiles but it was the last thing on your mind with the beautiful man above you.

taking in the way his abs flexed, neck strained and lips parted as you sucked him off ━ gagging occasionally but both of you knew that was no issue.

“missed this fucking mouth,” lando grunted, hand moving to tangle in your hair; both to keep it out of your way and to just have some sort of hold on you.

he was blindsided with pleasure, more than he remembered he’d be. your bikini did little to leave much to the imagination from his angle, watching as your breasts bounced with every movement. matched with your doe eyes, his jaw was slack.

you hummed as he tugged your hair lightly, the sensation one you always welcomed; and he too was reminded of such as he felt the vibrations around him. tugging again with a little more force.

his groans were gradually becoming more regular, hips bucking once or twice ━ pushing his cock further down your throat each time.

“just like that baby, always so good for me,” lando breathed, eyes screwing such momentarily as his head fell back once more.

you almost whined at the vision, wanting to scramble to your feet and kiss at his skin, feel all over him.

and he’d be happy to let you, he was hesitant in having you get him off first regardless; you hadn’t left much room for argument with good reason.

but right now he had no complaints, moans growing slightly louder in volume ━ grip tightening on the strands of your hair. he didn’t give you any warning as he came, but you didn’t need any.

the way he twitched in your mouth, you didn’t miss a beat ━ swallowing all you could; revelling in the way your name left his lips.

your mouth left him with a pop, gazing up at him to meet his adoring eyes, staring down at you as if you were the greatest thing to grace the earth.

because he did think of you as such. you continued to amaze him, he didn’t grow immune to such thing; just had managed to avoid the fact for a while now.

you stood to your feet, relieving your knees of the discomfort; a coy smile plastered on your lips at him panting and flustered.

you felt even, for the other night; reassured you weren’t the only one in need.

lando couldn’t complain either, couldn’t throw a playful comment towards you ━ not when you stood there with messy hair and swollen lips. all he could think about was turning you into a whiny mess, desperate to have you at his mercy again.

it was clear neither of you knew what to say in the few moments of silence; shamelessly admiring the other, catching your breaths. it wasn’t awkward however.

you were happy to feel his lips on yours once more ━ his hands not shy in wandering your body this time, sliding down to your thighs and hoisting you up immediately.

he was swift in turning around and placing you on the counter, stood between your legs as he hummed against your lips.

it wasn’t until his mouth ducked to your neck, then your collar bones, becoming harder to ignore as your head fell back, growing hot from the kisses he placed where-ever he could, that you spoke up.

“should go to your room,” you managed to get out, watching him through hooded eyes as he simply grabbed the material of your bikini to let your breasts fall free, kissing at the skin of them afterwards.

it wasn’t that you were worried on being walked in on, you had the house to yourselves for at least a couple more hours. you knew that. more so just the knowledge this wasn’t your house.

his eyebrows raised as he looked back up at you, hand sprawling over your stomach as he pushed you back slightly; your body blindly following the suggestion as you leant back on your hands.

“i paid for this villa baby, if i wanna fuck you on the counter i will,” lando murmured, hands spreading your thighs further apart; putting you in no position to argue you.

how could you? his words sounded like a promise, one you could only hope he would keep.

you nodded pathetically, suddenly aware of his hands resting high up on your inner thighs; suddenly aware of your own arousal and need for him.

he discarded of your bikini bottoms with ease, admiring your frame for a few moments as his hand reached to squeeze your breast, nipple rolling through his fingers moments later.

“lando,” you breathed; almost in warning, almost a whine. your legs were still spread and you were already resisting the urge to squirm. your patience non existent.

he only grinned, a slight chuckle maybe as his hands pushed your legs further apart once more.

“i got you baby,” lando hummed. “always so needy for me, you need me yeah? don’t you?” he spoke teasingly, tone painfully sweet as his fingers traced over your soaked folds.

you wanted to curse his obvious teasing, point out how you hadn’t been so cruel. but you knew it’d be no use.

you were scared to admit such thing, huffing as your hips bucked upwards momentarily.

“want to hear you say it.” lando grunted when he realised you weren’t planning on speaking; pinching your clit to get his point across, a strangled moan escaping you as your lips parted, falling into submission.

“need you.” you whined almost shamefully, head falling back as if the ceiling would offer you refuge from his hard stare. “please,”

your pleas were always music to his ears, so much so he debated with the idea of teasing you some more; to draw more whines and please out of you. but the way you were spread for him, so ready; he couldn’t help himself any longer.

you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth on your clit, sucking at your sensitive bud; not expecting such feeling as your eyes rolled back.

his hands manoeuvred your thighs to place your legs over his shoulders; giving him full access to your core as sweet moans started to escape you.

“o-oh my god,” you whimpered; eyes flickering to the sight of his head between your thighs ━ back arching as his tongue swiped through your folds, assaulting your cunt relentlessly as if he was starved.

you’d been reminded of how good his fingers were; so much so you hadn’t even considered getting his tongue again.

his large hands were squeezing your thighs, a bruising grip to keep you in place; eating you out expertly.

“lando━ feels so good,” you moaned as if that wasn’t clear by the way your hips were pushing against his hold. your right hand left the counter, moving to tangle in his curls, something to grab.

his blue eyes ventured to the sight of you momentarily, and he groaned into your cunt as he took note of the way your face was contorting in pleasure, how your body flinched with every move he made.

whimpers and moans were free falling, lando enjoying every single one ━ glad you could be as loud as you wanted, as loud as he made you.

you knew you were approaching your high shamefully fast, but had little room to care when you’d failed to reach it so much recently.

lando knew your body too well, could tell by the way you were tugging on his curls and creating more force against the hold he had on your thighs that you were about to cum.

he wanted you to let go, tongue flicking and nose bumping your clit ━ you orgasmed hard, suddenly; cumming on his tongue with what almost sounded like a squeal.

he didn’t stop, letting you ride out your high ━ before pulling away, wiping at the corners of his mouth.

you were mistaken however in thinking you would have time to catch your breath, not getting a word out before lando was moving only one leg off his shoulder and sliding two fingers into your entrance suddenly; thumb landing on your sensitive clit.

your body almost didn’t know how to react, falling back onto your hands that found the counter you sat upon once more to stabilise yourself.

“s’ too much,” you whimpered ━ legs attempting to squeeze shut, failing with the angle caused by one leg draped over lando’s shoulder, which allowed his fingers to hit deep within you.

lando hummed in amusement, knowing how much you could take. knowing you always said that, just to whine and cry out if he were to stop.

“too much?” he mocked; fingers curling and your body jerking. “want me to stop?” he breathed; smirking oh so cockily because he knew the answer. chuckling as you shook your head ‘no’ incredibly quickly.

“didn’t think so,” he huffed; thumb speeding up on your clit, rolling over the bud continuously. it was pure ecstasy, the overstimulation overwhelming your entire body.

his breaths were heavy as he admired you, the way you were shaking beneath him. reminiscent of how easily he could you like this, of the nights he made you cum four or five times before fucking you.

it killed him he didn’t have the time to do so again. but he couldn’t possibly complain right now.

“making a mess baby, all over my fingers,” lando spoke; the filthy sounds of his fingers moving in out of you filling the room, and you weren’t sure you’d last much longer when he entered a third. “so greedy. gonna cum again aren’t you?”

it was like he was three steps ahead of your body, leaving you to whine and nod pathetically.

“yeah? that what you want? to cum again?” lando spoke once more; watching as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut and it satisfied him to see you feel the pleasure he was giving.

he was hard again, purely from his name sounding so fucking incredible as you moaned and moaned, from the perfection you were.

his hand grasping your cheek had your eyes flying open as lando tilted your head forwards to look at him, eyebrows raised in expectance.

“words pretty girl,” lando reminded, chin still between his thumb and index finger ━ struggling to focus on him with the numbing pleasure that was causing tears to form.

you nodded, before processing what he’d said. words. right.

“please lando,” you gasped; eyes pouring into his, pleading with his as your back arched and legs shook. you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself. “gonna cum,” you whined.

lando felt it had been far too long to be cruel, so he simply hummed in appreciation; smiling lazily as he pushed you over the edge as he curled his fingers once more.

your vision went white, screaming his name as you came again, all over his fingers.

lando’s bottom lip rolled through his teeth at the sight, able to take in every moment, no restraint for either of you and it felt fucking amazing.

his hands gently moved your leg off his shoulder, stood between them as his hands massaged your thighs comfortingly, giving you a few moments to come down and catch your breath.

your eyes fluttered open, and immediately you were smiling stupidly at the sight of lando; his own grin mirroring yours as he hummed quietly.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered; unable to stop the compliment from escaping him, and your smile only grew; knowing you’d disagree if you caught sight of your tangled hair and flushed cheeks.

it had your stomach flipping, men compliment you all the time. only lando would gain such a reaction.

“got another one in you?” his question was gentle; the sparkle in his eye daring, and you had no hesitation in nodding.

“need you inside me,” you mumbled, causing the driver’s smirk to return to its rightful place ━ glad your wants were shared.

you may have gone a long time without, but your stamina hadn’t faulted.

lando was tugging you to the edge of the counter at that, and you easily got lost in the kiss that he placed upon your lips; rough and messy as you melted into his hold.

it’d caught you by surprise, when he tugged you down onto your feet, spun your round and bent you over the marble surface; a gasp escaping you.

“missed you so much,” lando sighed; ushering your legs apart as your breath hitched in your throat. you didn’t know what to focus on, his words, your position or the feeling of his hands on your ass.

the confession wasn’t one you’d hold onto, you knew better than to cling to words uttered during sex. but god it felt great to hear.

“missed you too,” you assured him back, moan slipping past your lips as you felt his tip press against your folds; but he made no further movements.

your hips shook slightly, attempting to entice him ━ so needy despite having cum twice already. you just wanted him. all of him.

his hand moved up your back, tangling in your hair and creating a makeshift pony tail ━ one he tugged on immediately, your head snapping up.

“what did i say earlier? about using your words?” lando leant forward, lips grazing your ear; cock pressed against your entrance, causing you to cry out.

your body was overstimulated, tired; tired of his teasing. out of practice to predict his wants.

“want you to fuck me,” you whined quickly, rushing your words out as your hips pressed backwards. “need you lan, please,” you whimpered; sounding oh so desperate lando couldn’t possibly deny you.

he entered you without any more warning, bottoming out as your walls wrapped around him; your gasps intertwining as you gripped the counter below you.

the cool surface against your front did little to cool you down, moaning at the feeling of being so full. full of him again, after so long.

too long.

“always take me so well,” lando grunted in your ear; giving you a few moments to adjust before he was dropping your hair and standing up straight ━ hands finding your hips now.

his thrusts were harsh, rough and deep; not too slow or too fast, ensuring you felt every inch of him as your aching cunt squeezed him.

every move had your body jolting, moans escaping you; the counter and lando the only reason your legs were able to stay upright.

“so-so good,” you stumbled out, eyes rolling back as your body fell limp, unable to process the pleasure you were feeling. what you’d been deprived of and craving.

the driver too was losing himself in the feeling, head thrown back as he moved in and out of you ━ sounds of skin slapping filling up the large and empty space.

it was a mutual feeling, as to why the fuck this didn’t happen sooner. how on earth you two had been in such close proximity throughout the months and not gotten to this point yet.

safe to say keeping your distance now would be difficult.

lando felt the need to be closer, as if he needed more of you despite having you already at his mercy.

his hand found your neck with ease, wrapping around your throat and guiding your head up ━ causing you to stand up right, back against his chest.

he didn’t apply pressure, yet, but just the feeling of his large hand wrapped around the base of your neck had your legs feeling weaker; split open on his cock meaning lando’s body was the only thing holding you up now.

“feel good?” lando’s question was just him chasing praise, knowing you were fucked stupid; but he couldn’t help but want to remind you just who was the reason you could barely form sentences.

you nodded as much as you could in his hold. always nodding, he could ask or say anything and you’d find a way to say yes.

“only i can make you feel this good hm? only i can make you cum?” lando didn’t stop running his mouth, basking in the fact it was him that had the tears spilling out of your eyes. a sense of pride washing over him.

you choked out a yes, his thrusts having only gotten faster ━ and when his hand applied pressure to your neck you were almost certain you were in heaven.

“so perfect, so fucking perfect for me baby,” lando grunted in praise; and the kiss he pressed to your shoulder blade was a vast contrast to the treatment of your cunt.

it really was too much, the few tears and whimpers made that clear to lando; you were only moments away from cumming again and the thought alone had his own high dawning on him.

“come on angel, cum on my cock. cum for me,” he was speaking in your ear again; and you practically screamed as your third orgasm hit ━ body falling limp in his hold.

the way your walls squeezed him had him cumming with you, groaning as his forehead rested on your shoulder ━ erratic breaths filling the room as he stilled inside you.

all his touches were suddenly delicate, pulling out of you as he moved you to lean against the counter, still holding you up slightly as you caught your breath.

it was a comfortable silence, his hands ghosting over your waist as you pressed your eyes shut for a few moments.

you’d expected some sort of regret. an immediate now what? for one of you to panic or flee.

but instead, neither of you wanted the moment to end.

“want to join me for a shower?” lando broke the silence, a half smile that had you feeling an odd sense of relief.

one he felt too when you smiled right back, and nodded in agreement.

he’d chuckled, you would even go as far as to say he was grinning; hands grasping your thighs and picking you up with ease, carrying you off towards the bathroom.

when your friends returned you had been on the sofa, lando out by the pool ━ strategically placed to avoid suspicion, already under the assumption someone would’ve brought up the fact it happened to be you two who stayed back today.

chatter filled the room immediately, lando trudging in to greet everyone. you having stayed seated, purely because you didn’t trust your legs.

“burnt cookies y/n?” max had spoke across the room; having been first to stumble upon the overdone batch sat on the kitchen island you’d spent the last 15 minutes sanitising.

your cheeks flushed, purely because you could sense lando’s eyes burning into you.

you could picture the cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“yeah. my bad,” you laughed sheepishly.

and you were glad to be the only one paying attention when lando passed the back of the couch, finger grazing your shoulder as he did so.

“my bad,” he corrected; your eyes meeting his smug ones in passing.

━━

a/n: did y’all miss my shitty endings???

anyways idk what this is but here it is

unedited atm so apologies xox

as always appreciate feedback so so much, love u all and hope u enjoy 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

#f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine #lando norris angst #lando norris #f1 angst #f1 one shot #lando norris fluff

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nereidprinc3ss · 23 days ago

Text

ghost in the machine

in which spencer reid coaxes reader out of an episode of extreme dissociation after a triggering therapy session

angst, fluff warnings/tags: established relationship, accidental mild injury, blood, unspecified trauma, but at the very least implied past emotional abuse, anxiety, reader has ptsd and is in #denial about it a/n: I'm hellaaaa chill sometimes I just lose hours of my day if I think about my childhood too hard

It’s normal for you to get home and immediately wash your hands—a habit you picked up from Spencer. So you walk through the door, and you close it, and you take off your shoes and you hang up your coat and he calls hey from the couch.

You don’t respond. Or do you? You’re not sure. But you’re washing your hands, and then as you go to dry them, you notice your coffee mug from this morning, still sitting on the counter.

I should wash that, you think, and so you pick it up and you take it back to the sink.

Sink. Sink equals washing hands.

You’re washing your hands again.

What did you mean to do?

Dishes? Right. The mug is… gone, seemingly, but there’s a knife in the sink, too—you pick it up, and you’re about to rinse it off, and then it’s clattering from your hands. Somebody is pulling you back from the sink.

Someone is saying your name a whole bunch of times.

You turn, blinking, and there’s Spencer, glowing softly in the yellow light of the kitchen.

He looks so concerned. He strokes your cheek but you feel it less than you seem to observe it from a distance. Says your name one more time, eyes softening a little.

“What?” You murmur, as if in a trance.

He blinks.

“You dropped a mug. You’re bleeding.”

Well, that’s news to you. It seems like a preposterous claim, but you look down, and sure enough—that coffee mug which had disappeared from the sink is in pieces on the floor and the tile is smeared in red.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Are you okay?”

“I’m bleeding.”

His brows furrow.

“Yes, I see that. Do you remember breaking the mug?”

The mug. Oh, yeah. Now that you think about it—yeah, you do remember dropping it. Watching it break into a hundred pieces. That noise, of dishes breaking and clattering—suddenly you inhale deeply.

“I broke it,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I broke it—”

The memory of the sound is cacophonous, deafening and completely inescapable.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. Nobody’s upset at you. It’s just a mug.”

But that doesn’t make it any easier to lower your shoulders from where they’ve tensed to your ears, because once a dish breaks, there’s always a second of terrible, tremulous silence, before it explodes and somebody is screaming, painting every wall in the house with their rage. You squeeze your eyes shut. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, you whisper, wordlessly, just as you did so many years ago.

“It’s just a mug,” he says again like that will help. “I’m gonna clean it up, okay? It’s gonna be like it never even happened.”

And that does provide some comfort—the fanciful idea of undoing. Of closing your eyes against the something terrible and wishing it away like you’ve always done and having it actually be gone when you open them. Spencer must be magic.

“I’m gonna clean it up, but I want to make sure your foot is okay first. Is that okay?”

You take a deep, shuddering sniffle and nod, but that warm fog is pouring down the corridors in your brain like smoke in a maze. It obscures everything. Your feelings. The pain. The fear, thank god. There must be shards in your foot. Spencer apologizes from below as he peels off your bloodied sock, where he’s pulling the first aid kid from under the sink and working on you, but you don’t feel the pain. You don’t feel anything except the pressure of the bandage around your foot as he stands.

He says your name again.

“Hm?”

You’re scaring him. That much is evident from the look on his face. You wish you could stop, but it’s like you’re in a dream again. The brief clarity that moment of panic had provided is gone.

“Can we just—can we go sit down?” He asks, already putting a hand on your waist. Sure. Why not. He supports your weight as you hobble around the broken mess on the ground and all the way to the couch. Oh. It’s too soft. Too forgiving. You sink into it too deeply, like you’re being swallowed, or breathed into a pair of monstrous lungs.

Spencer is crouching in front of you, pushing hair from your face.

“What’s going on, baby?”

“Nothing,” you murmur. “I’m fine. I just… dropped… a mug.”

“You didn’t remember or notice that you dropped the mug until I pointed it out. You washed your hands twice. You were about to try and wash a knife without a sponge.”

“No, I’m just… I’m tired. It’s…”

You trail off again, any further attempt at a meager excuse walled off a thick swirling fog. It’s like you’re trying to walk but you can’t see more than a few feet ahead of you. You can hardly think, let alone speak.

Spencer frowns deeper.

“It’s what?”

You pause for a long time.

“Um… Don’t remember.”

“You’re scaring me,” he whispers, and again you wonder why, only you can’t really wonder at the moment. “Did you hit your head? Where did you come from?”

“When?” You ask.

“Just now. When you came home, where were you coming from?”

“Diane. I was, um—I was at therapy.”

“No stops on your way home?”

“No,” you say. You’re pretty sure. You actually have no memory of what happened between leaving Diane’s office and walking through the front door.

“Did you feel okay before you started therapy?”

“… Yeah.”

“So this started after?”

“What?”

“Your inability to put a sentence together, honey. You’re really out of it.”

“Oh.” Your eyes sting. It feels like an insult. “‘M fine.”

He reaches up to cup your cheeks.

“What did you and Diane talk about?” He asks gently, a little less anxiously, like he’s figured out what’s wrong with you.

At this, your mouth goes dry. What was before swirling fog has become a hulking black wall of solid obsidian. There’s nothing.

“Um…”

“Can you remember?”

Something hot traces the length of your cheek from your eye.

“No,” you whisper, sounding utterly distraught. “No, I can’t remember. I can't remember anything.”

More tears are coming now. How could you forget? You’re trying so hard to remember. How did you even get home?

“Okay. That’s okay, angel. You don’t have to remember.”

“I’m sorry. Something’s… wrong…”

“Don’t be sorry. I think you just got really overwhelmed at therapy and now your brain is trying to protect you. Can you tell me what you’re feeling in your body?”

Your… your body?

Nothing. It feels like nothing.

“Why don’t you try and take a deep breath? I’ll do it with you.” He brings your hand to his chest, and your finger twitches against the hard abalone button. His chest expands, and you try to do the same, letting the cool rush of air down your throat. The room spins.

“Woah,” you mutter, suddenly hyper aware of your breathing.

“Slow down. We’re okay. You’re safe.”

He leads you through a few more deep breaths and you manage to get to a place where they don’t feel so precarious and unsteady. Your head sparkles with fresh oxygen and everything is too much. After a moment you’re settling your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. Spencer rubs soothing lines up and down the side of your legs.

“How do you feel now?”

“Not good,” you whisper. “My foot hurts.”

He hums.

“Technically I shouldn’t let you take Ibuprofen because it’s a blood thinner and you have an open wound, but I think it’ll be okay just this once. You okay if I go get some?”

You nod, rubbing at your eyes with your palms until you see stars. The brain fog hasn’t lifted, but it’s thinned considerably.

He comes back a few moments later with two round pills and a glass of cold water. The shock of it in your hand zaps your brain and you almost drop it but Spencer seems to have anticipated this so he hadn’t let go of the glass yet. He administers the pills once your hand is steady and you take them, feeling the river of ice down your throat and into the pool of your stomach. It seems to travel outward, extending into every reach of your body, bringing the sensorial world back to the forefront of your consciousness. Spencer must notice the goosebumps because he’s unfolding a blanket and wrapping it around you tightly, before pulling you into his arms where he sits and tucking your head beneath his chin. You let your eyes flutter shut, embracing the warmth, the pressure, the soft fabric against your skin.

“I don’t know what happened,” you murmur. “I don’t… feel right.”

“That’s okay. I know it feels scary, but nothing’s wrong. I think you maybe talked about something that’s really hard to talk about when you weren’t quite ready. Sometimes when that happens, your brain tries to protect you from perceived threats by dissociating. It makes thinking straight really difficult.”

You frown.

“How did I… How’d I get home?”

He strokes your hair.

“The parts of your brain responsible for procedural memory aren’t as impacted during episodes of dissociation. But it’s actually not uncommon for people who don’t have PTSD to forget their commutes. It’s called highway hypnosis.”

“I don’t… I don’t have PTSD,” you insist. When Spencer doesn’t answer for a long moment, only continues stroking your hair, you swallow.

“We don’t have to talk about this right now, angel.”

“Okay,” you whisper, like a child too weary to argue. He kisses your head.

“It might be good for you to take a nap,” Spencer says, like he can read your mind. “I bet you’re tired.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because I know everything,” he says simply—a line borrowed from you. “Here’s what we’re gonna do, okay? I’m gonna order from Tandoori, and you’ll fall asleep, and I’ll wake you up when it’s time to eat, and we can watch your show.”

You smile despite yourself.

“So assertive.”

“I’m thinking I can get away with it right now.”

He’s only teasing. You cuddle closer. He holds you tighter.

“I’m the boss. And I want Thai food.”

“There she is,” he murmurs, rubbing your back over the blanket. The warm saccharine sweetness of his tone dizzies you, muddles your mind more pleasantly this time. Your heart rate slows. Your breathing goes back on autopilot. The rise and fall of his chest rocks you like the sea. Just at the cusp of sleep, he whispers one more promise. Of safety. Of love.

When you wake up, you’ve forgotten all about it.

But there's pad Thai on the table, and the kitchen is devoid of blood or broken glass.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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morganmnemonic · 4 months ago

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I can't stop thinking about the relationship between Jon and Helen as perhaps one of the most important ones in the entire show. They are narrative parallels for each other, and they both know it. They've both known it from the very start!

Helen walks into the Archives, paranoid, unsure of who to trust, and Jon sees himself in her. And he thinks "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." Then he can't save her. The next time they meet, she's a monster. They're both monsters. There was never any other way their stories could have gone, their fates entwined from the very start.

And Helen answers his original thought with one of her own: "Maybe if we can help each other, there's hope for us both." But Jon looks at her and sees everything that he fears becoming, and so he turns her away, and refuses to accept that their stories are still one and the same.

Helen went to the last person who was ever kind to her, the only person who both knew her as a human and had the context to understand what she'd become, and he hated her. He hated her because he liked Helen, and told her that she couldn't be Helen.

So she stopped trying to be Helen, and embraced being a monster. Reveled in it even. Then Jon wakes up from a six month coma, more monster than person, and tries so hard to cling to the things that mattered to him when he was human. Even with no support, even with the entire archives staff against him, he chooses humanity and compassion over and over again.

And this is a direct threat to Helen's world view. Their stories are entwined. If Jon can continue to be a person even after everything he's been through, then she could have clung to her humanity too, if only she'd tried a little harder. And that terrifies her! She wants to conceptualize herself as someone who was completely overwhelmed by forces beyond her control, who never had a choice but to become a monster. She want's to be an innocent victim. But Jon argues with his actions that they'd both had choices.

And, Jon, in turn, holds out hope that she might make better choices until the very end.

This is the conflict between them for all of season 4 and 5. Jon wants to prove that they can both be decent people, and Helen wants to prove that they were never going to be anything but monsters. This is why she's so devoted to trying to goad Jon into enjoying his newfound godhood. She knows that they are the same, and wants that to mean that he has a spark of evil inside of him, and not that she was always capable of doing good.

When Jon kills her, she loses her life, but wins the argument. Helen is nothing but a dangerous monster who needs to be killed for the good of everyone, and in the moment he decides that, Jon dooms himself to the same fate. Their stories are one and the same. "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." he thought. But he couldn't help her, refused to, even, in the one moment when it actually mattered. And thus, there was never hope for him.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #helen distortion #my rambles #i am not normal about them #helen did nothing wrong in her entire life #(aside from being a real estate agent)#Her story is just so tragic to me #She could have been better #she had choices #thats the entire point #but the choice was between a thankless attempt at retaining her personhood #with absolutely no support and no one who cared about her #or giving into the comforting lie that she never had a choice at all #She had choices and she made them but i don't think anyone could reasonably expect her to have done any better

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pathologicalreid · 14 days ago

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losing you | s.r.

in which you being in danger in the field elicits a response from Spencer that you're not used to - anger

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: general cm violence, jareau!reader, fear of abandonment, fighting word count: 1.67k a/n: i really didn't like this one at first but turns out now i really enjoy it lol. it's hard for me to dislike anything jareau!reader. anyways, setting this up to post while i chemically straighten my hair, i hope you enjoy!

“What are you doing?” Spencer asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and casually leaning against the doorframe. A bored expression planted on his face as he watched you dump your dirty laundry out of your go-bag and begin to shove clean clothes inside.

You huffed, slamming a dresser drawer shut as you shoved socks into your otherwise empty duffle, “I’m going to stay with JJ tonight.” Avoiding his gaze, you proceeded to pack away your underwear—four pairs for an overnight trip.

Slowly, he meandered over to the bed, sitting on the ledge and watching you, “I think we should talk about this.” He told you, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“I agree,” you responded, checking your toiletry kit to ensure you had everything you needed to get through the next twenty-four hours—or more if the team got called off on a new case while you were with your sister.

Spencer frowned at your response, “You agree, but you’re still packing to leave.” He turned his head to follow you as you floated around the room, tossing miscellaneous clothes in your bag.

Nodding, you zipped your go-bag shut, buttoning an additional closure before turning back to face Spencer. “You’re angry with me, and I think we could have a more productive conversation with each other tomorrow after you sleep on it.”

“And I think we need to get our thoughts out now before it turns into a bigger issue. Internalizing emotions like you’re suggesting isn’t healthy,” Spencer challenged, following you as you walked to the front door, setting your bag on the console before searching around for the right pair of shoes. “And now you’re just walking out,” he griped, gesturing over to the shoe rack.

Your head snapped up at that remark, “Hey, I am not just ‘walking out.’” Your gaze narrowed at him as you nearly stumbled over your own feet.

The knot between his brows loosened at your expression, and for a moment, you weren’t in the midst of a disagreement. For a moment, the two of you were two kids who had been walked out on. “No,” Spencer said, his voice softer than it had just been, “You’re right. That was a poor choice of words and I’m sorry.”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you paused your efforts to leave the apartment and took a deep breath. “I made a split-second decision, and it ended up saving a little girl’s life. I don’t regret it, but I do regret the way it scared you.”

Spencer kept a firm distance from you, even if you reached out an arm, you wouldn’t be able to touch him. “You should have listened to Hotch; there’s no reason that you should’ve done… that.”

“You weren’t there, Spencer! If you had seen the way he was holding that gun to her temple… if you had heard the way she was crying out for her mom, then maybe you’d understand why I took her place,” you told him, shifting uncomfortably on your feet.

Spencer groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “There had to have been another option, Y/N.”

Maybe there was, but part of your FBI training had been on making snap decisions, and this was just another example. “So, you think I should’ve let him keep that gun to the little girl’s head?”

“No,” Spencer answered, dragging out his vowel. “I just would have rather not seen a gun to my girlfriend’s head instead.”

You halted, eyes widening in alarm as you shifted to a newfound frustration, “Right,” you sniped, “That’s rich, coming from you.”

His eyes flashed with recognition, and you knew that he was well aware of what you were referring to. Last month when he had his face off with Cat Adams, leading to her pointing a gun at his head while he proceeded to egg her on. You’d given him a mouthful the next day, and you weren’t afraid to do it again, “That was a completely different set of circumstances.”

Cocking your head to the side, your nostrils flared, “Was it?” You ask sardonically, “A serial killer pointing a loaded gun to your head sounds pretty fucking similar to me!”

“At least I stayed to talk to you about it instead of running away,” he snapped, both of you escalating in the ways you knew how. You raised your voice while he resorted to the cutting edge in his voice.

You held your hands out to your sides helplessly, “Do I need to put in for a transfer or something? Is this that big of an issue to you?” You could barely stomach the idea of leaving the BAU, but at this point, losing Spencer would be worse than joining a new department.

“No,” he answered instantly, “The problem here is that you don’t think before you act.”

You held up your hand, “I think before everything I do, and I’m sorry that my synapses don’t fire a million times a minute, and I can’t calculate the probability of every outcome beforehand, but I did the best I fucking could with the time I was given.”

Spencer raised his eyebrows curiously, “The best you could? A Glock to your temple was the best you could do?”

“Fuck you! Why don’t you have any trust in my abilities in the field? Why do you all of a sudden do you think I can’t do my job?” You demanded, chest rising and falling with anger as you glared across the room at him.

Spencer flinched at the accusation, the idea that he was just as bad as all of the people who assumed you only got your job because of your sister—the kind of people Spencer used to defend you from. “I didn’t… you’re perfectly capable—”

“But not good enough for the BAU? Not good enough to be a profiler, surely,” You interrupted him. “You know what I think, Spencer? I think you’re scared. I think seeing a gun to my head frightened you, and you’re taking it out on me because I’m the only vessel that you can snipe at and know they won’t leave you entirely.”

His posture changed then, leaning against the back of the couch as he absorbed your words, “You’re an incredible profiler, honey. The team is lucky to have you, you know that.”

Your shoulders slumped forward in response, “Then why the hostility? Why did you snap at me in front of everyone as soon as you found out the gun wasn’t loaded?” You took your bottom lip between your teeth as you studied his facial expressions for an answer. When you offered to take the little girl’s place, you were under the impression that the gun was loaded, and when the rest of the team caught up with you, they were under the same guise.

It wasn’t revealed that the chamber was empty until JJ made the shot that took out the UnSub, and Spencer had been all over you with worry one moment and wanted nothing to do with you the next.

“Did you feel like your worry wasn’t warranted?” You asked when he remained silent, “Like it was a waste of emotion when I wasn’t in any real danger?”

Spencer shook his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest self-consciously as you forced him to look at his behavior objectively, “You were always in danger, Y/N. The way he was watching you, the grip that he had on you…”

The UnSub gripped your hip so fiercely that he had almost taken you down with him when he was shot, and you wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises marring your skin when you changed out of your work clothes. “I saved that little girl, Spence. That’s the deal, right? ‘I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.’” You quoted your oath to him, the same one he had taken, “At that moment, it was my duty to save that little girl. She went home to her parents today because of me.”

“You’re right,” he said, any evidence of malice washed from his tone. “You were incredible. You were fearless, and it scared the shit out of me,” he told you. “I—” he faltered, “I’m sorry,” he said, approaching you the way you would a wounded animal.

You shook your head when he held out his hands for you, leaving your arms stiffly at your sides and shaking your head, “No, Spence.”

Despite your protests, he pulled you into an embrace anyway; your body was resistant to him, the way his warm arms wrapped around you and pulled you flush against his body. “Please don’t go,” he whispered. “Be mad at me, make me sleep on the couch, but please don’t leave,” he murmured.

Your cheek was pressed against his chest, the wool lapel of his suit jacket scratching against your skin as tears flooded your field of vision. As much as you wanted to resist, this was Spencer. Instinctively, you nuzzled your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and taking a shuddering breath.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you,” he told you.

Fear of loss. Spencer had been terrified to see a gun to your head, but the thought of having to watch you leave the apartment you shared in order to get away from him was petrifying. “I have to call my sister,” you told him, your voice muffled by his jacket.

One hand was on your waist, the other on the back of your head, fingers threaded into your hair, “Why?”

“To let her know I’m not coming,” you muttered. “She’ll worry, and it seems I’ve caused enough of that today,” you told him, appreciating the heat that emanated from Spencer as he looped his arms around you, holding you tightly as if that’s all he’d ever needed.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #written by margot #jareau!reader

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nanamiscocksleeve · 1 month ago

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LADS Men With a Plus Size Reader

Warnings: None! This is actually very fluffy! Maybe PG13 at most! (OMG NCS, no smut?!😲😲😲) A/N: Finally, got around to writing one of the promised headcanons! Now, allow me to be clear here. The amount of customization the game allows is incredible but MC is a little bit on the smaller side, and I would have loved to see an option for a more robust body build. The same way there are naturally thin and petite women, there are also bigger and more rounded women as well and I think there was an opportunity lost there. Anyone that tries to hate on this will be blocked immediately.

Zayne:

Zayne’s large hand envelopes yours as you walk to the cafe he’d recommended. You knew it was popular amongst the hospital staff and weren’t surprised to see familiar faces; one of the tables was completely occupied by some of Zayne’s surgical nurses.

“Why don’t you get a table?” Zayne brushes a kiss on top of your hair. “And I’ll get the food. Do you still want a hazelnut latte with your cake?”

“Yes please!” Zayne’s eyes fill with warmth as he squeezes your hand before walking towards the cashier. You wander over and pick a table near the nurses. You take out your phone and start to browse Instagram when a snide voice is heard from the table behind you.

“Gross.”

You freeze but don’t dare turn around. Maybe it wasn’t directed at you.

“That’s Dr. Zayne’s girlfriend?”

Shit it was.

“Why is he with that porker?”

“You’d think a man like that would have better taste.”

“I heard that they were childhood friends. He’s probably dating her out of pity.”

Even as your blood rages, you feel tears pricking the backs of your eyes. Were they aware you could hear them? And they had just said your worst fears out loud; that Zayne was dating you as a favor, not because he was actually into you. It was an old insecurity you hadn’t really grown out of. You startle slightly as Zayne suddenly sits down opposite you, food and beverages in hand. He sets down your coffee and cake while taking his own plate and tea off the tray.

“Why are you so upset?” He immediately observes the distress on your face and the way your eyes are glistening. You shake your head and dab at your eyes with a napkin, Zayne watching you intently. The cute slice of cake he’s gotten for you sits temptingly in line with your vision but right now it might as well be a lump of clay, all appetite for it gone.

Zayne’s eyes flick to the cake and back to you. “Did I get the wrong one?”

You’re about to shake your head no when the conversation at the table behind you picks up again. Clearly, they hadn’t noticed Zayne sitting down.

“He deserves so much more than that blob. There are so many attractive women at the hospital.”

“I agree. He could get anyone he wanted. Someone who actually takes care of their health and watches their figure.”

Shame fills you and you’re unable to look at Zayne in the eyes, knowing he had heard them, even though you know it was far from the truth. You ate all your vegetables and exercised frequently. But your body just refused to slim down no matter what you did. No matter how much you tried to lose weight, the weight just didn’t want to lose you. You’re about to get up and leave when Zayne speaks up, loud and clear, in a scathing tone.

“Right, because weight is the only indicator of a person’s health, isn’t it?” Zayne’s words drip with sarcasm.

The entire nurses’ table jumps at his voice, turning around to look at him.

“Oh, Dr. Zayne! We weren’t-”

“I don’t care what you weren’t doing. Do not talk about anyone that way, patient or not. Were you not taught compassion as part of your medical training? Or is it reserved for people who look a certain way?” His eyes are narrowed and the table looks tense. One by one the nurses start to get up, quietly murmuring apologies to him as they exit the cafe.

Zayne watches them go, anger still visible in his eyes before turning his attention back to you. His hand covers yours on top of the table. “Are you all right?”

You sniff. “I try. You know I try. I cook all my meals. I exercise. We work out together. But I can’t get the weight to go away.”

“No sweetheart. I know how much you take care of yourself.” Zayne reaches across the table to wipe your tears. “You do not have to lose any weight. You’re perfectly healthy, and as long as that’s clear, nothing else matters.”

“You’re not dating me out of pity?” You look at him uncertainly.

“Pity?” Zayne chuckles in disbelief. “Darling when you first started coming to my office I was sure you were out of my league.” His thumb strokes your hand reassuringly.

“You’re so amazing. Talented, compassionate, considerate. And all those things will always matter more to me than anything else.”

He looks at your neglected slice of cake. “Now don’t take out your sadness on the dessert. If you don’t finish it in 5 minutes, it’s mine.”

Rafayel:

You grip your wrap firmly around your shoulders, stepping with grace into the dazzling venue. You never missed Rafayel’s shows if you could help it but this time around, you had a skin in the game. Literally.

One night after a round of passionate lovemaking, you had woken to find Rafayel painting, and when you saw what he was working on, you’d blushed and smacked him on the shoulder.

There, in the brush strokes, he had painted you sleeping on his bed, your hair in disarray as it cascaded down your back, your face buried into the pillow and not quite visible. The sheets covered you modestly but the wide curve of your hips, the pudges of fat at your side, and the bra rolls under your arms were all painted with clarity and you found you couldn’t look at it. A feeling of unease had settled in your stomach. Was this the way your boyfriend viewed you?

You had brought it up to Rafayel in a small voice. “Do you think I’m fat?”

Your heart sank as Rafayel’s face, which had been so soft, a curve in his lips as he had painted, changed into a mask of dismay. “Fat?” he had asked, looking quite upset. “Where in this painting have I made you look fat?”

“Here. And here.” You point out the areas and Rafayel pulls you against him, holding you fiercely.

“Cutie, I swear to God I’m just painting you as you are. I don’t think you look fat at all. I’m just painting my beautiful girlfriend in all her glory.” Crushed against his chest, you try to talk.

“But, most women in paintings don’t look like that, they have smaller hips and thighs and mine look so…ugly.”

You thought Rafayel’s heart might have broken as he heard your word of choice. “There’s nothing about you that’s ugly. None of this is ugly. It’s a body. Your body. And baby I love every inch of it exactly as it is. I didn’t mean to make you sad while I painted all the pretty little pieces of you that make you whole.” His hands trace your sides, squeezing you reassuringly.

“There’s so much beauty in you baby. That’s all I see in this painting. You’ll always be the biggest masterpiece in my life.”

Knowing he held you in such high esteem had done wonders for your confidence, which was what you were trying to emulate as you walked into the gallery. Rafayel had hesitantly asked for your permission to showcase that painting for this show, promising he’d never use it without your consent. Nervous as you were, part of you was actually thrilled that it was going to be used. It was difficult to make out who the subject in the portrait was since your face wasn’t entirely visible.

Still, it felt like an out-of-body experience as you approached the hung canvas, observing the crowd that flocked to it. Some people nodded at it quietly before moving on, others commented under their breath that Rafayel should have chosen a more appropriate model.

“Can you imagine this woman being naked in his bed?” One of them asked and her friends snickered sycophantically. “He must have been drunk or something.”

“And why is that?” You turn in time to see Rafayel, dressed sharply in a couture outfit approach you and pull you to his side, his hand resting possessively on the jut of your hip. The woman backpedals.

“Mr. Rafayel! I mean, obviously, your work is unique but I can’t help but wonder what you might have been trying to convey when you painted someone with such a…heavy structure.”

Rafayel pretends to consider her words. “I suppose…people have different views on what beauty is. All I was trying to convey was how much I loved the person in the painting. Anyone that doesn’t see the beauty in this particular painting, well I’m afraid they have poor taste.”

Grinning at the affronted look on her face, Rafayel whisks you away, but not before you throw her a smug smirk over your shoulder.

Sylus:

Who knew underground mafia bosses loved their parties as much as their money? As strange as it was, the cliques had started becoming familiar with you hanging around. Anytime Sylus was invited to a gathering, it was expected that you were his plus one. While most of the men entertained polite conversation with you, it was no secret how coveted Sylus was by the women in the N109 zone.

They wrinkled their noses as you walked by, your head held high, knowing you shouldn’t let their words get to you but it was hard. You tell the bartender your order and put a $100 bill into the tip jar. After all, you couldn’t embarrass Sylus by handing out a miserly tip when he was supposed to be the richest man here.

You knew you looked good enough to kill; Sylus had chosen the gown you were wearing himself, even hiring a personal tailor to fit the dress to flaunt your best assets and a thick choker of diamonds glittered on your neck. The plunging V-line of the dress showed off a tempting display of creamy cleavage, the bodice of the dress pushing up your impressive bosom. The material crept over your belly and hips, your fupa visible a little more than you would have liked but Sylus had refused to hear otherwise. You remember the way his hands had caressed the bulge of fat after helping you zip up the gown, his low, contented, purr ringing in your ears.

“Kitten, you’re going to be every man’s envy tonight. How delightful that I get to flaunt you as mine.”

A group of women, all model-thin and gorgeous, approach the bar, their cold eyes fixed on you, wearing smiles that could cut glass. Your fingers drum nervously on the counter as you try to ignore them. One of the women spies the tip you had put in and jerks her chin at you, her lips twisting into what looks like a sneer.

“So Sylus has the money to let you throw around $100 bills into tip jars. I wonder…” She pauses and the group draws collectively closer like a cackle of hyenas. “Wouldn’t his finances be more wisely spent on other avenues?”

“Such as?” You ask carefully.

“A good plastic surgeon perhaps? Lord knows you could use some liposuction in more places than one.” Her entourage leers at you while covering their mouths to stifle their laughter.

Your back stiffens and your eyes widen in shock. You resist the urge to cover your middle. You knew you should have pushed harder to have the gown loosened. Your fupa, the soft squidge that bulged under the material of the dress…it was a mistake thinking you could attend a party with it showing up so obviously.

A million retorts form in your head but they all die weakly on your tongue. You had no defense, and you felt pathetic that you were sitting here and taking their abuse but your mind felt frozen, like you couldn’t plan your next move.

“How did you ever think that someone like you could pull off a dress like that?” The woman presses, her eyes boring into yours. Your pulse quickens as you try to find a way to escape.

“You’re right, she can’t pull off a dress like that.” A rich, deep voice answers the woman who pales as she sees Sylus drape his arm possessively around your shoulders. “It’ll wrinkle. That’s why I’ll be pulling it off for her as soon as we get home.”

His eyes flash scarlet as he signals to the bartender, who immediately starts pouring him a drink and expediting your cocktail, setting both glasses on coasters in front of you. You flush but try not to look too pleased as you take a sip, feeling the alcohol loosen you.

“Mr. Sylus.” The woman’s voice changes immediately and she steps back. “We were just talking about fashion.” she fibs hastily, trying to cover up her reason for using the word ‘dress’.

“Fashion?” Sylus looks at her patronizingly. “Do tell.”

Caught, she wets her lips before saying, “Oh we were talking about jeans and how they never fit or have pockets-”

“Hmm. I can understand these problems. After all, jeans without pockets are like women without curves…there’s nowhere to put your hands.” His broad hand shifts to your hip, his fingers subtly signaling it is time for you to go. You pick up your glass and Sylus holds onto you firmly as you walk back to the crowd.

Xavier:

You’re sweaty as you and Xavier walk back from the office gym to the locker rooms. Xavier drinks from his water bottle, swallowing zealously. “I think we’ve exercised enough for a whole week,” he says as you walk. You laugh and shake your head.

“We only did a half hour of cardio!”

“Yeah, but we lifted all those weights too! In fact, my muscles already feel stronger.” Xavier flexes his arm and a visible bicep forms, making you grin.

“Oh so strong,” you say as you reach out to squeeze. Xavier winces slightly and you quickly withdraw. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’m a little sore.” You reach the locker rooms.“I’ll wait for you outside.”

You nod and he disappears into the men's locker room. You wander into the women’s, undo the lock, and retrieve your bag, finding a stall to change your clothes. You peel off your damp leggings which stick to your plushy thighs and you drag them down, sighing in relief as the skin jiggles freely in the cool air after being stuffed in the heat of polyester for so long.

The skin on your butt and stomach are dimpled, something you’d come to terms with. You recall how nervous you’d been to let Xavier see you in a bathing suit at the pool but now you barely glance at them.

“It’s like your skin is smiling at me when I kiss it.”

That’s what Xavier had said as he kissed the soft flesh lovingly. Who could possibly feel self-conscious after that analogy? As you fold away the sweaty clothes into a garment bag, you hear several of the other changing room doors open and a group of voices fills the locker room as you change. You normally wouldn’t have paid attention but you freeze when you hear Xavier’s name.

“Why do you think Xavier works out with her of all people?”

“I know! They workout together like almost everyday and she hasn’t lost any weight!”

“She probably lacks the discipline to go on a real diet. It doesn’t matter how much she exercises, that fat isn’t going to go away if she doesn’t eat healthier.”

“Xavier really needs to find a better workout buddy. She only slows him down.”

Your heart clenches in your chest as you hear the cruel commentary. How dare these women talk about your body like it was a source of entertainment for them? Both rage and sorrow fills you as you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Suddenly all you can see are the flaws.

How cute, to call cellulite ‘dimpled skin’ like it was something to be adored. You stare at the lumpy skin, at the way your stomach and arms have stretch marks everywhere, the way your skin bulges over the band of your bra. You wait in silence as the women finish their chat and you hear them exit the locker room.

After what seemed like ages, you finally finish dressing and leave the changing room feeling humiliated. The post-workout glow had all but vanished from your system and you couldn’t shake off the feeling of being perceived like a huge, hulking, ogre; built big and lumberingly, not at all cute like the princess Xavier claimed you were. You leave the dressing room, then stare in disbelief as the same group of women crowd around Xavier as he waits for you. You lurk, not wanting to be seen, then one of the women speaks up.

“Xavier, if you’re looking for another workout buddy I’d be happy to tag along.” One of them chirps perkily.

Xavier chuckles politely and shakes his head. “Thank you, but no. I have a workout buddy.”

“Oh cmon Xavier, don’t you think you need someone who can challenge you a little more?”

“I do actually. That’s why I work out with her.”

“Does she really challenge you?”

“I think she challenges me more than you. Didn't you finish last in the company relay race?” The woman’s face falls and your heart skips a beat.

“And you,” Xavier says as he turns to face another woman. “Forgive me if I’m wrong but you struggle to push anything more than 75 pounds. My workout buddy does 150 easily. She’s very strong. Perhaps you might benefit from training with her.” The second woman looks offended even as she’s being chastised.

Feeling your confidence soar, you skip over to Xavier feeling as light as a feather. Xavier’s eyes light up as you approach. “Ladies,” you say smugly to their scandalized faces before pulling Xavier away from them, holding his arm as you walk away.

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poguehearted77 · 25 days ago

Text

Co-Star Confessions

Pairing: Actress! Reader x Drew Starkey

Co-Star Confessions-> The cast takes you along on a trip to take a lie detector test for an interview. The jokes are rolling and the tea starts to spill.

Summary: A lie detector, a dark room, and unspoken tension pull you into a whirlwind of revelations, where secrets are spilled, emotions run high, and your growing romance with Drew becomes impossible to hide.

Belongs to my: OBX Season 5: Payback for Maybank Series

These can be read in any order!

"Okay be honest, who else went on a deep dive of doom last night and watched all of Blackbox's previous interviews?" Madelyn turns from her place in the passenger seat, facing you, Madison and Chase so you can hear her question clearly.

All hands go up. The anticipation is high and circling in the car. Today the cast has split up into two cars as you're being shipped off to another studio to record an interview with Blackbox.

"Some of those questions were brutal, and you're hooked up to a lie detector so there's no chance you can avoid the truth." Chase lets out a weighted breath, his mind running off with the possible questions they could ask. There's a small sprout of fear blossoming around the possibility they'll pry open closed doors about his and Madelyn's break up.

The concept is simple: Prior to the interview, Blackbox has done their own research and collected some surface-level, intermediate, and mildly invasive questions that the fans of the show are circulating online. One by one, the cast will sit in the empty black room with no one but the polygrapher and a lie detector, the questions get asked and if you're telling the truth you get a point, if you're lying you lose a point.

The castmate with the most points at the end gets to ask any co-star any question of their choice.

"I can't believe I let Madison drag me into this." You scoff and all she does is smile bright and innocent. It took some convincing of the producers but she's very persuasive when she needs to be.

"We're family now. If we go down, so do you." Chase holds your hand and gives it a condescending squeeze. "I take that as a threat." You snatch your hand away and everyone laughs.

As you arrived, it seems the car with Carlacia, Drew and JD had beat you guys there. Their driver was already pulling off the lot, telling you the others were inside. You got out of the car behind Chase and adjusted your clothes.

Today, your stylists had picked out a white long-sleeve shirt layered under a sleek black vest, paired with a gray mini skirt, black sheer tights, a small shoulder bag, delicate gold acccesories, and a sleek pulled-back pony-tail for a perfectly polished look.

You could already hear the chatter from the studio from out in the hall as you entered the room behind Madison, more chatter erupting as the full cast is reunited. You did your rounds to greet the others you hadn't been riding with. "You look great," Drew compliments as he briefly rests his head atop yours during your hug. You fit in his arms as perfectly as a puzzle.

His pathetic instincts allowed him to take a deeper breath to get a stronger pull of your gentle perfume that intoxicated his mind. "I don't remember getting a compliment from you this morning!" Carlacia accuses him playfully and he laughs along before flattering her endlessly and you thought it was cute.

There’s no denying it. From the very beginning, you and Drew have danced around the unspoken tension, the sparks that have lingered just beneath the surface. But lately, those sparks have started to feel dangerous, like a fuse waiting to ignite. The two of you can’t be left alone for long—what starts as two chairs between you inevitably narrows to one, and then, before you realize it, none at all.

One second you're both rehearsing lines in the studio-b trailer and the next you're passed out on the couch side-by-side. Even though that only happened once, it was more than enough. You've blown through nearly two-thirds of filming the final season and it was easy to consider Drew one of your closest friends, both on and off-set.

There were late-night phone calls, early morning face-times, minimal texting since he hardly replied to his messages but lots of heated glances that shouldn't make you feel as hot as they did. Like right now.

Madelyn is currently removing a piece of lint that had fallen onto your hair from god knows where, meanwhile, you pretended you couldn't feel Drew's deep gaze from behind Madelyn's head, but you shook it off. You had to.

It wasn't long before you're all being ushered to take your seats in the black room, getting ready to record your introduction which will be the only time the whole cast is in the black room together for the interview.

"We're the cast of Outer Banks and welcome to Blackbox." You all say, introducing yourselves personally then retreating to the holding room where there are five chairs, a one-way glass looking into the black room and a microphone.

The assistants spun a wheel which decided that JD is the first one up on the chopping block. "Keep the questions pg-13, please. I've got family that's gonna see this." He pleads, letting himself be strapped into the chair and hooked up with the various components of the detector. Meanwhile, you took the seat in the holding room between Carlacia and Drew.

"So he really can't see us?" Madelyn questioned, waving to JD through the window, but he was unresponsive. "All he sees is a mirror, but when you use the microphone, he can hear your voice in the speakers in the room." One of the cameramen explains and you all nod along.

"Okay, Madelyn, you're first to read the questions. Pick up one cue card from the surface-level, intermediate and invasive stack and project your voice into the mic." She's directed but you all listen for when it's your turn.

Madelyn: "JD, What's your favourite memory from filming season 5 Outer Banks so far?"

He jolts a little in his seat, not expecting to hear Madelyn's voice so clearly in a room where he can't see her, but he answers nonetheless.

JD: When Chase and I were rehearsing that scene where we have to hang-glide off a cliff but Chase's hands slipped and he misses the bar, and he just goes falling to the foam platform like twenty feet below us, but it wasn't even that. It was the scream he let out. I still think about it.

"He's telling the truth." The woman informs.

Chase has his head in his hands while you and Carlacia hold onto eachother, laughing until you're gasping for air.

Madelyn picks up the top cue card from the intermediate pile.

Madelyn: Which castmate are you closest to?

"Oooh." There's a collective sound that sweeps across the studio, it made everyone uneasy, not because of the question. It's a difficult question and everyone knows there are no hard feelings involved but if this is an intermediate question then you should all be nervous.

JD sighs, "You know what-- Unstrap me." He pretends to grab at the wires and it elicits a round of laughs while he thinks about it.

JD: This is hard. I feel like I have such a different relationship with everyone, but..... uhhh... If I had to narrow it down, I guess probably Madelyn.

There's a long silence, everyone waiting for the polygrapher to confirm or deny. "He's telling the truth."

Madelyn: "It must be fate that I'm the one asking your questions. Luv ya. Now, for your final, invasive question. You recently implied in an interview that you're seeing someone, is that true?"

Your hands clasp over your mouth. "Brutal," Carlacia whispers under her breath while you and Drew lean over the edge of your seats as if you didn't already know the answer to this question.

"No." He denies it, another stomach-churning silence. You can see the nerves rolling down JD's face as he waits for the results. "That was a lie." The crew is making some indistinct noise while the cast is stunned to silence. None of you were going to make it out of this interview alive.

JD's head falls with a guilty grin, dreading the news this would spread in the press. He almost immediately unlatches himself from the machine and enters the waiting room with the rest of you, sending in Chase.

"That shit is intense. It's just so dark, and ominous, and you've got a spotlight on you. Makes you feel like you're on trial for a crime you didn't commit." Drew stands to give him a pat on the back, "You did good, man. Hopefully Maya isn't too blindsided by that last question."

Maya is JD's secret girlfriend, official as of last month, you've met her a handful of times but you clicked almost instantly and often texted on Instagram and shared reels.

The game went on, and the questions didn't get any easier. You watched as you all trickled in and out of the rooms, getting paired off in an order something like this:

Madelyn asking JD

Drew asking Chase

Carlacia asking Madelyn

Chase asking Y/N

Y/N asking Madison

Madison asking Carlacia

JD asking Drew

There's an acrylic nail poking your shoulder and you shudder. "You're up," Carlacia informs you and you nearly vomit. The questions have been ruthless thus far, you honestly wonder how and why the producers approved this.

"Hey Madison, this is for you." You hold up your middle fingers, regretting ever letting her get you involved in this bloodbath. She blows you a kiss and wishes you luck.

Chase: "Y/n-"

You're not sure what it is about it, but you and Chase have had enough bloopers on set, that this felt no different, even though you couldn't see him, you broke out in laughter. Before the mic cut out you heard Chase's abrupt laughter cut through.

This is how you two always were. Unable to keep it together. The directors hated when you had a scene together (even though they'd laugh too). "Okay okay, I'm sorry. I'm ready." You reassure, "That was a lie", The polygrapher debunks your confession and it sends everyone rolling for another five minutes due to its spontaneity.

"Okay. For real this time." You clear your throat, waiting for Chase to start with the questions.

Chase: "If you weren’t acting, what would your job be?"

"Ooh, I love photography, my phone is always gonna be in your face, and I've got like a dozen cameras. So, probably a photographer." You answer. The question is light, but it doesn't erase the uneasy feeling bubbling in your stomach. "True."

Chase prepares to move on to the intermediate stack of cards, shuffling them, just for fun.

"Here we go," Madison leans over to JD, they both knew there were bound to be some wild cards for you and Drew. Ever since your casting as Piper was made public not too long ago, the fans immediately flocked to find all your socials.

The rumours between you and Drew were already starting to spin. All stemming from one photo added to one of Carlacia's many photo dumps a few weeks ago. The image is of you playfully feeding Drew a strawberry from when you'd all done some sightseeing and visited the local Portuguese farms.

Chase: "Fans noticed you recently reposted a TikTok that said, 'When he’s tall enough to climb like a tree>>'—was that just for laughs, or did you have someone in mind?"

Your hands raise to your face and you scream, Madison screams, JD laughs, Madelyn kicks her feet while Carlacia gasps--Simply put, the cast is overcome.

Drew straightens a little, now more intrigued than ever (as if he wasn't before). His eyes sparkle with hope? Interest? Certainty. A subtle wave of confidence runs down his spine as he confirms to himself that you're talking about him. You both know it, and you've never been so glad that you couldn't see his face.

"My TikTok account is private how did they even-?!"

Chase: "Answer the question Ms. Y/n."

You could hear his smirk through the mic. Oh, he was enjoying this too much. You made a mental reminder to send Kelsea all the worst images that you've taken of him. "It was just for fun," you shrug.

"That was a lie", You knew it was coming, honestly, but at least you tried.

Chase: "You've recently been cast as the lead in a new rom-com called The Love Equation set to release in 2026, congratulations."

Chase prefaces the question with the recent news that was unveiled to the public merely a few days ago. It was a very recent endeavour of yours.

Not long after you started filming for Outer Banks, you'd received a call back from this project and filming was set to start a little after the OBX premiere which is a little less than three months away.

"Thank you, thank you. I'm very excited and grateful for the opportunity." You say, pretending you weren't dreading the question that's soon to follow. Chase's flattery made you nervous, regardless if he was just reading what was on the card.

Chase: If you could pick any castmate to star alongside you in a rom-com, who would you pick?"

Drew's jaw locks at the question. His grip on the arm of the chair tightens subconsciously as he watches your every move. From the way you looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think to your left foot pacing an unsteady rhythm.

All while Madison was watching Drew, a small smile creeping up on her lips. She needed no further confirmation from the two of you, your body language was loud enough. To her, at least.

"Drew." You say nothing more, nothing less. You don't want to fan the flames that fans have already sparked to life from a simple picture. "She's telling the truth." Yeah, obviously, but you don't say that out loud.

The time seems to fly now that your turn had passed and finally, it's Drew's turn. Deep down you've been waiting for this all day, but if you're being honest, you're a little scared for him.

Drew has one of the biggest and most blunt fanbases of the cast. You've seen how they can get sometimes, you've read the TikTok comments and seen the X threads. Hopefully, nothing gets taken out of context or blown out of proportion.

JD: "What’s your favorite way to unwind after a long day of filming?"

His lips pucker a little in thought, and it dawned on him. "I recently got gifted like, an ungodly amount of bubble bath, but I've actually been using them lately. So, I'll say a nice, hot bath, yeah."

The polygrapher confirms that his statement is in fact true and the round progresses.

JD: "If you had to be stuck on an island with one of your castmates for 24 hours, who would you pick—and what would you two do to pass the time?"

Drew fights the grin on his face, "I'd say Chase, we would go hang-gliding-" He's hardly able to get the sentence out before he's interrupted by his own cackles.

Chase adds his own thoughts into the mic, "You know what, Drew, fuck you, okay?" Chase states before returning to his seat while Drew chokes over his laughs to deliver an insincere apology. "That was true." The room erupts with more laughter at that.

JD: "Your final, invasive question, have you ever secretly dated or hooked up with someone from a movie/show you've worked on, including this one?"

The entire studio goes pin-drop silent. Madison's hand reaches out to hold yours, for comfort, or maybe support? Your eyes are glued to the window that shows a nervous Drew, the most nervous you'd ever seen him. He's starting to sweat.

The two of you have never hooked up, but now you're curious. You would get to find out if he's gotten involved with other girls he's worked with before. Was everything he did just an act? Was it a thing he did with everyone?

"I have not." He answers.

There's silence.

The polygrapher is doing it on purpose, you're sure of it.

...

....

........

JD turns around to face you all and whispers, "Guys, I'm literally shaking for him. Look!" He held out his hand with the card, and it showed a true reflection of his words.

"That is..." She drags out the verdict.

The anticipation got so bad you've all somehow ended up standing, you all might as well press your noses up against the glass.

"True."

The cheering is loud when it swallows the holding room. It's almost shameful how much of a weight you felt lifted off your shoulders at the declaration. Drew is the only one to have told the truth for all three questions, giving him 3 points. He wins.

"Now, Drew. You get to ask any co-star any question you'd like." One of the crewmates instructs as they had you all lined up in the room under Drew's judgement. He stalked along, looking everyone in the eyes, yours lasted a little longer than he was willing to admit but he eventually stopped on Madison.

"Madison, Madison, Madison." Drew taunted in the mic and she rolled her eyes with an all-knowing grin.

Drew: "Not too long ago you were disrespecting my childhood delicacy, the uncrustable. Now, there are rumours going around that you've been seen with them lately, is it true?"

Small giggles were let out around the room. Drew is unbelievable.

"Yes." Madison whispers, looking off to the side.

Drew: What was that? I'll need you to speak up.

Madison: Yes! It's true. Satisfied?

Drew: Very. No further questions, your honour.

You all film the closing sequence, reminding the audience the final season will be released on Netflix on August 30th and September 25th, 2025.

You're all making your way out to the cars. The original groups naturally switched up as you all jumped into the car with people you were in conversations with as you left the studio. This time it's you, Drew, JD and Madelyn.

"Wow, that was lowkey worse than I thought it was going to be." JD admits from the passenger seat and you snicker. Without even realizing it, your head was laying on Drew's shoulder, feeling the sleepiness begin to settle in after an eventful afternoon.

"All that drama genuinely drained the energy from my body." You yawn, and Drew subtly shifts so that you'd find more comfort in him, and you snuggle up just a little more. This is a feeling he could get used to.

Taglist: @percysley, @lilithblackkk, @rafegf-real, @eternallovers65, @drsza, @wearemadeofstardust0, @cadhlabear, @thepopcultureaddict, @citr0us, @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account, @madi44444,@willowpains, @riaras-everthroner, @iteuosav

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pseudowho · 9 months ago

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The Wristwatch

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You had not known you were Nanami Kento's girl, until the Wristwatch Incident.

In truth, your affection had been brewing so slowly, you had not known if you were imagining it.

You had not realised you were in love with Kento, until he leaned in close, and you smelled the smoky, wood-rich warmth of him. Until you found yourself nursing stomach-dropping disappointment, if your phone pinged and it wasn't him. Until you woke up in cold sweats, the memory of the dream of his skin on yours so vivid that your heartbeat throbbed between your legs.

You couldn't accept it. It couldn't be love, when he did not love you back. And yet...that intoxicating dance continued, while your head dipped in denial...blinkered.

The extra coffee that would be slid over the desk to you, by a strong, gentle hand. The late night phonecalls, decompressing from the stress of your missions. The occasional dinner in each others' company, because, well...we both need to eat? Why not eat together?

You were afraid to label it; afraid to lose the soft skirting intimacy that you had. Nanami Kento was a hard man to gauge; alternately sincere and distant, warm and cool, closely familiar and objectively analytical. He kept you at arms' length; close enough to brush fingertips, but far enough that you could run...if you wanted. And you never did.

You had gone shopping, together, one balmy spring afternoon. You both needed new clothes...so why not together? It makes sense, really. Nothing else in it, I'm sure. Just friends. He doesn't feel that way about me, anyway.

He had insisted upon Ginza Shopping Mall. You balked at the exquisitely-expensive-upmarketness of it, but you could never deny him, for fear of losing this time together. You had perused for new earrings, your belly clenching at the many zeroes on every pricetag. He had ambled over to another counter, just browsing, and there for quite some time.

"See anything you like?" That deep-roast voice broke you out of your reverie. You looked up, into twinkling hazel eyes, and blushed. Yes, you. One of you, Kento, please and thank you.

"No," you scoffed, turning your back on the jewellery, and walking towards the shop door, "too cheap for me. I couldn't possibly be seen wearing them."

Kento laughed, slipping a box into his pocket, and walking just close enough to send your brain into a spiral. You barely functioned through lunch. Kento remained, as ever, a gentleman.

As he drove you to your door, and you bid him a flustered goodnight, you felt that same big, warm hand on your arm, holding you back to him.

"Wait," Kento insisted, "I have...something. For you. Open it when you're home." He pressed a smooth, embossed box into your hands. You could not see what it was, under the glossy paper sleeve. You opened your mouth to chastise Kento, and he interrupted smoothly.

"It's your birthday soon. Consider it an early gift. You couldn't possibly refuse...?" One raised, fine eyebrow. That cool, impassive gaze. You pouted. Sneaky old goat.

"Alright. You win this time, Kento...but I'll get you back," you had promised. He had simply smiled indulgently, stepped out to open your door, and watched you until you were inside.

With trembling hands, you slid the smooth paper cover off the box, and your stomach somersaulted.

Tag Heuer.

"No...Kento-- you didn't," you hushed to yourself, rushing to open the box.

You fumbled an exquisite silver, blue-faced women's watch out of the box. It seemed, somehow, familiar. You couldn't possibly. You knew the pricetag on these. Even the packaging was too expensive for you.

With one hand over your mouth and a pounding little heart, you sent Kento a text with shaky hands;

Nanami Kento. Absolutely not. Take it back.

A few anxious minutes, pacing, looking at the watch resting on the table and gasping each time. Three small dot dot dots...dot dot dots...and a response.

Sorry. Lost the receipt. It will look good on you.

Squeaking and grinning to yourself, you tried the watch on. You took it off. You paced. You tried it on again. You fell back onto your bed, legs kicking, and hands over your face.

Every further refusal you send to Kento, was flatly ignored. He left you on read all night.

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The next day, at work, you couldn't help but notice the looks you were receiving. They weren't bad looks, certainly, more...surprise? Happy acceptance? Knowing smiles? Each person the same; glancing to your watch, eyebrows raising, and searching your face with a grin. You didn't understand it.

Over lunch, Shoko reached over to you, a coffee in her other hand, and tapped the new watch on your wrist.

"Couples' watches now, hmm?" She smirked. You frowned, questioning. Shoko scoffed at you, as if you were playing coy, when you didn't even know the rules of the game. Shoko's smile didn't falter once.

You confronted Kento later that afternoon, dragging him into a dusty narrow corridor, and holding the watch up to him with fighting eyes.

Kento's heart burst with pride, biting his lip with a sly smile, and taking your wristwatched hand in his own. He tipped your arm back and forth, admiring the watch on your wrist from all angles, with a lovesick sigh. You suddenly recalled, with flushed cheeks, where you had seen such a similar wristwatch before.

Kento watched your mental gymnastics with a slowly growing smile. You almost caught on fire as he raised your hand to his lips, pressing an adoring kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Wondered how long you'd take to notice," Kento rumbled, eyed closed and nuzzling his nose against your fingers, "that you're my girl. And always have been."

#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #pseudowho #nanami fluff #nanami headcanons #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami x y/n #nanami #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you

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iwaasfairy · 9 months ago

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┌─ “ ! „ FEARLESS, STUPID

tw. a/b/o, military au, dystopian au, noncon, threesome, heat, dumbification, double penetration, patronization/ degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, dom/sub themes, choking, anal play, a lot of spit and cum, size kink, tummy bulging, mentions of human captives, kinda forced prostitution wordcount. 9.8k

a/n. I had a lot of fun writing this one bc it’s just extremely fairycore and indulgent. heavily inspired by rhi and her incredible brain for writing the hand that feeds!!! I love that fic and have always wanted to write smt set in vaguely the same world. thank you to everyone who beta read as well I appreciate it soooo much ♡♡

geto suguru, kong shiu, fushiguro toji x fem!reader

The air is dry and cold, enough to hurt on the way in. It’s cold enough for your warm air to come back out and form droplets on your nose that drip into the snow.

Your head down, crouched in the smallest shape you can make yourself, is how you find yourself drifting in and out of focus. Not only are you cold and hungry, but it’s been long enough for the scent of smoke and ash and foul, sour fear to have started losing it’s smell. You can’t even expend the energy to move your head to the side and look, without getting tired. The crunching of the heavy boots in the snow is the only thing that’s pulling you back into it. That and the occasional clang of the line of cuffs shaking around someone’s wrists.

It’s gone quiet now.

You wonder if others have fallen asleep. You’re not far off yourself. When some commotion happens over by the gates, some of the uniformed figures rush to go look, feet kicking up snow as they go — It’s a blur of shouts and orders, before the loud hum of an armored vehicle stops not too far away. That’s all it takes to wake you up again, and despite yourself, your arms start shaking in their place behind your back. The cold of the metal radiates all through your bones.

You realize you’re scared. That’s the thumping between your ears.

“Lieutenant. Good evening, Sir.”

A soft, almost warm voice stands in stark contrast against the cold of the surroundings when the feet stop a few steps short of the kneeling row of people. “At ease, soldier.” He sounds older than some of the youthful faces you’ve seen here, dragging people around by their ankles to stuff them into loaded trucks. But not old. Not nearly old enough to carry the weight he does. “What’s all this?” the voice pivots, aimed now towards your group. A few of the women beside you uneasily shuffle in their places.

“Captives from a raid by the fifth division this morning. They interfered with the commission’s supply line when they tried to escape.”

You smell smoke with each breath. The man makes a soft humming noise, before he scans the row of kneeling people again. “So why are they still here? We have plenty of mouths to feed already.” You have seen what they do with prisoners here. Just this one, long day has shown you all you need to know. Your life will be short and unnoticed, and if you’re lucky, you won’t go through hell before you’re shot between your eyes. The cold air makes clouds in front of your face, as the steam rises above the snow into the black night. “Beta's?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You strain your neck to tilt your head up. You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the wrongful association of that voice, smooth and lithe and easy- with the pain you’ve witnessed. You don’t have much hope of making it out, and though you could beg, you’re not even sure if they see you as human enough to consider a plea a plea. Your eyes glide up the perfectly fitted suits, dark gray and gold until you find the face of the leader— and startle. Long, black hair is tied into a sloppy bun in his neck, and long bangs almost hide one eye from view.

But the eyes are striking and sharp and long lashes frame them against pale skin, and you can’t look away when his lips form the words. “So, kill them.” His cigarette burns bright orange when he takes another pull.

The younger of the two only lets out the briefest breath. “...Yes, Sir.”

The fear makes the pitched whimper get stuck in your throat, and more puffy clouds drift out of your lips when you start to shuffle in a panic. Not fight, you don’t ever fight. The man turns on his heel. And you’re not the only one, as soon cries and sniffles and the petrified glances only set you off more. Your eyes drop to the muddied, dirty patches of snow that the cars drove through, the people around the camp; as your stomach turns and your bottom lip starts to wobble. You knew this is how you’d turn out.

As soon as they put the cuffs on and tossed you onto the ground to wait… your own whimpering just melts into that of the others, but peaks when a hand grabs you by the hair and yanks you up, then lifts you by your arm. “No, no, stop!” The girls around you start screaming too, one grabbing at your arms to pull you back down. But the soldier doesn’t hesitate to kick her in the nose, as you cry, trembling like a kitten picked up by her neck.

Everyone’s scared for themselves, but they’re scared for you too, and you for them. “Stop, please! Please!” They cry. The blood thumping between your ears makes it hard to focus on anything but the painful grip on you, and the disgusted face of the man before you. When you don’t make any effort to fight, he drops you back down into the cold snow, and instead aims the long barrel of his gun straight at you.

You can’t even look away, as your heart rate slows. As you watch the small snowflakes come from the sky to meet you.

“Wait.” The voice returns when he stops halfway to the car, and makes your eyes shoot up to find his face, as shivers roll down your back. You know you’re stinking up the place, as the placating hands of the girls around you reach to brush fingers. It’s not much, but allows you to take a sniveling breath. “This one’s an Omega… Settle down, soldier. We’re not trying to hurt, are we?” The buzzcut’s eyes widen slightly, maybe as he takes a first good look at you and notices the smaller frame, big doe-like eyes, the softer set of your face and demeanor. Just as quickly as he gives you another up and down, he steps aside and lowers his heavy-duty gun back to the ground.

The older one takes a step back towards you. Your face must be windbitten, lips cracked and cold and stained with tears where you sit, but the noiret doesn’t falter as he drops into a squat before you. His face breaks out into a soft smile, and his hand rises to brush along your cheek, avoiding the black eye as he goes. “You’re a rare find. You on blockers?” Not enough recent ones to keep out all of the scent, clearly.

It’s not a question that needs answering, but as his thumb brushes over your lip, you find yourself giving the smallest nod. Gently, careful not to make any harsh movements. He does the same when he helps you right yourself back onto your knees, and then gives you a slow, calculated trace with his ocean-dark, silvery eyes. “Smart. We almost missed out on you with all the Beta stench.” A small furrow worms between his brows. “Are there others?” He asks, and then gives a swift continuation. “Don’t lie. If you lie I’ll know.”

Your voice cracks when you start. “I- If I tell you- what will happen to them?”

With only the slightest bit of hesitation, he seems to mull it over. Sharp, angular features soften just a bit as he draws his hand back from your face to run it under his nose instead. And whatever he smells must soothe the urge to get angry at being questioned, because his cheeks push up genially until his eyes are practically just moons. “How’s this? I’ll be fair, after hearing whatever information you have.” The anxiety ebbs and flows as you look to the faces at your side, then swallow.

Your heart hammers wildly in your chest. You have no reason to lie. There’s no one left that didn’t get shot as they ran… You clear your strained voice with a tight cough. “I- this is all that’s left. There’s no one else. We had people who escaped before you even closed in. B-but there weren’t any Omega’s left, the last raid already took them all. That’s all I know.” You try to keep your bottom lip from wobbling as you talk, ignoring the cold of the tears that are now freezing on your lashes.

Those dark, unrelenting eyes don’t waver as you speak, and you can’t help but wonder what it is he sees. Surely he knows, you wouldn’t need to lie. Just as you start getting anxious at the silence, he gets up from the floor, before dusting impatient hands over his pristine jacket— and a saccharine smile slips back onto his lips as he waves a hand. “Bring the Omega.” You jump when the soldier from earlier immediately starts yanking at your chains, but that’s it. It’s not in your nature to fight back. Then the Lieutenant walks back to the car as another opens it for him, and casts a final glance your way.

The smile doesn’t fall when he shifts that gaze to the side, and sucks his teeth. “Kill the monkeys.”

There’s nothing more embarrassing than having to fight your nature at every turn. You’re confronted with it more than you’ve ever been before, when they drag you across the cold tiles with your legs kicking, tears rolling in thick beads down your face and neck. You’re not a fighter. You’re not made for it. At every chance, your body chooses the easiest way out, oblige now, suffer later. Even when your mind screams at you to run, bite and kick and escape — you stay down. Cold metal slices into the tender and sore skin of your wrists when they yank you up another few feet, before dropping you onto the floor next to the makeshift desk.

You’re sniveling like a child. The man behind the desk looks at the several soldiers who stay put, before lifting an eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Geto says you’re to clean her up for processing.” One of the men sighs, before glaring down at you with a tight-lipped frown. It sets the hairs on your neck on end to feel such blatant displeasure from an Alpha.

The lighter haired young man stands from the chair at that, and gives you a quick once over. “For the barracks or to be sent to the commission?” He smiles when you look up at him, gentler, then places a warm hand on the top of your head to start soothing you. It’s enough to make your lip wobbly. The little bit of warmth isn’t enough… but it feels so nice. So good, to have a caring touch.

One of the other soldiers takes the heavy strap off his shoulder to put the gun down, and grunts. “Neither.” His top lip lifts into a scowl as he glares at the corner of the room, before turning to look down at you too. “Personal pick, I heard.”

The other soldier remains at the door, but clicks his tongue. “And we’re supposed to keep our mouths shut about it.”

“You ever had an Omega?” The one asks the other, nervously grinding his gun in circles. “I haven’t. Yet we’re going to war for ‘em… Only for pompous pricks to get first pick of the litter because they’re bold enough not to report to the commission.” The soldier grins without any amusement from across you, and you can’t help but hide more into the leg of the man who’s still touching you kindly. “Goin’ to war for pussies like yours… must make you something real special, right? But you’re unreported. What’s keeping me from just… taking you for myself?” Then he looks between the two other men. “I’m even willing to share between the three of us if you’d help out. Keep some things quiet.”

“You said the Lieutenant picked her out because he liked her, right?” The lighter haired man runs his free hand through his undercut, then leans down to lift you under your arms and get you onto tired legs against him. “Means you got something in return for keeping a secret already.” He’s all wired muscle under the uniform he wears, and wraps his arm around the small of your back before picking you up entirely. “Don’t do something stupid. There’s no place to keep her where some officer wouldn’t smell her anyway. Can’t keep her under your mattress like a pack of cards, can you?” He starts walking you towards the doors of a presumed bathroom without complaining, even though the other guy clicks his tongue.

“Itadori. You think you’re helping out just being another dog for the commission?”

“Instead of a thief?” He pushes the door open with one hand, already walking through. “Go get your free drinks or cigarettes or whatever he promised you, and do your job. I’m doing mine.”

The door falls shut with a loud noise behind you both, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Your arms wrap a little tighter around his neck. “T-Thank you.”

His grey eyes find yours, before he smiles again. Softer. He’s an Alpha too, but must come into contact with your kind more frequently. He feels gentler to the touch when he speaks. “Don’t thank me yet.” Then he deposits you in a stained, old bathtub, and sighs before grabbing the showerhead. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. Ranking officers like their girls extra clean.” When you don’t move, he goes to take off your dirty shirt, and you only shiver in place as it happens.

After a few seconds of silence where he brushes fingers over the unmarked stretch of your neck, you swallow tightly. “You can’t let me go, can you?”

Itadori turns up the water until it’s warm, and his brows flatten. “…No. I’m here to do a job. I’m sorry.” You believe him. Doesn’t make you feel any better, though.

The cot is barely big enough for you, and the cold from the floor radiates up through the ratty, old mattress into you. But it’s still better than sleeping in the bed where Geto sleeps, where he can get his hands all over you, hold you, cling to you. You’re glad that the Lieutenant doesn’t particularly care whether or not you shy back away from him for the night, as long as you don’t act up when he wants you close. It’s an unwritten contract he likes to pretend you have. As if you weren’t forced into it. As if you had any choice.

The starchy sheets are cold too, they leave you shivering more than sleeping. When you walk through the halls you’re cold and barefoot and uncomfortable, but when you’re here you’re colder, naked and more uncomfortable.

You don’t know that much about the army. You don’t know that much about other things either, but you know that Omega’s are few and far in between. You know they go for lots of money, money that even Geto doesn’t have. You know that he’s using you to your full potential before his higher-ups find out, and that too much commotion would draw attention of the commission. Attention you don’t want. When your teeth start chattering, the man in the large bed, with the soft pillows and body heat calls.

Says your name like he means it. Like he likes to whisper to get under your skin- holding your life between slim fingers. He sighs. “Come. Get into bed. I can’t sleep when you’re not sleeping. And you’re not going to sleep when you’re shivering to death.”

“I’ll sleep,” you softly assure, pull your thin blanket closer. Your feet are cold and the room isn’t dark enough for it to actually happen. But you can pretend.

“I’m not asking.” You know he’s not. Maybe it’s because the alarm clock is showing an ungodly hour— and he’s tired. It wouldn’t be the first time his boot meets your cheek when you whine too much, displease him in ways Geto doesn’t like. “Come.”

He yawns when opening the blankets, waves you closer. An Alpha demands, and your lungs ache to follow the order. It physically hurts to resist. Your thin layer of tears sit on your waterline for a while before you shift. Slip across the room naked, and crawl into the bed under his arm. “That’s a good pet…” The panes of his chest are warm enough to have you melting like ice into his shape and mold yourself to him. It’s in the weight of his arm over your waist as he pulls you in close. Tethers you. You want to be and stay mad. Frightened.

It’s just… Geto’s scent’s become one you can bury yourself into. Your hands ball against his chest, and the fingers he presses into your hips stray down.

Your breathing hitches at the touch, and your stomach seems to want to crawl up into your mouth when he spreads your legs apart. “I’m hardly the worst one here. Get used to it already. People here are frustrated. Many of them haven’t had an Omega in years.” His rough fingertips slide between your legs and trace over the raw, achy mess he made of you not hours before. It’s sticky and uncomfortable, and you jerk when he rather impatiently starts thumbing your clit. It hurts- enough to make your face scrunch as you hide it into his pecks. “You don’t even know how lucky you are that I’ve kept you to myself.”

You do know that, though. You’ve passed by some of the barracks further away from the officer buildings. You’ve smelled the Omega fear, the blood and sweat and ruts; or what it’s like for a person to beg for a moment of reprieve. You have not a scratch on you, and you should be more grateful than you are. That you’re not taking a whole division’s sexual frustration to keep them from killing each other. When his fingers slide the wetness, remnants of slick and cum back into you and force your pussy to stretch again- you start sniffling against him. “I know I am,” you whimper, biting your lip. It’s not enough to just be this. You can’t just lay and wish for it all to go away. You have to be a participant, or Geto might switch you out.

As you whimper, swallowing back the tears- he presses his lips against your forehead. “Can’t help but cry? Poor baby.” He grinds the fleshy part of his palm against your pussy, breathing against you. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“I- Feels- b-big,” you choke out, twitching when his fingers curl into you and fuck deeper until they stroke much deeper than your own. The coldness fades a little when he rolls you over onto your back and gets on top, pinning you with his thigh. “Geto-sama- Please stop, I’m still- sore. It- it hurts really bad.”

With a slight frown, he pulls his fingers out of you and wipes them on your thigh, before sighing. Your eyes crack open at the lack of touch. His long black hair falls down over his shoulders, as he holds himself above you— and stares at you for a moment too long. One where he seems to consider your feelings at least a little, for once, brushing his clean thumb along your neck and shoulder. “I’m going back to the front soon. Do you know what that means?”

You’re not sure if it’s meant to be patronizing… but you don’t know. The wet, cold numbness that returns to your cunt is an unexpected unease. You wanted to stop. You did. But when he sits back on his heels and looks at you for a few seconds in abject silence, the distance feels too far. Geto comes back to you with a furrowed brow, before a line of kisses is pressed along your jaw and neck, where he takes a deep breath and makes your entire body purr. “Means you’ll be passed on to some other scum.” He almost growls when he says it, urges your one leg over his thigh to make room.

“I put in a good word that if I come back you’ll come back to me- but…” His sharp eyes find yours blown out and dark, as he pulls you closer to his hips and rolls himself against you. His hard cock- he’s always hard when you’re in his bed, bops as he grabs himself and pumps a few achingly slow strokes. A translucent drop of precum drops to your pussy, and he spits on his hand and your pussy for good measure. “I’ll be two months without this soft Omega cunt squeezing me to sleep.” As he groans and slides the flushed head of his cock against you, he presses his weight into you again. “Let me use you. Or see what fucking happens.”

The hearth burns at the far end of the pristine, wooden room. Enough to make your hands clammy, shifting yourself back and forth between both legs- before glancing up to Geto once more. He looks more pampered today. Standing straight with only his fingers looped loosely around your arm. For a split second you wonder if you’d be able to make it down the marble set of stairs and across the courtyard into the shallow bushes— but it’s only a moment. Not more than a brief hope that instantly gets snuffed out when the heavy doors slide open, and a deep grunt passes by you both.

Geto salutes, the man does not. He only clears his voice with a mix of impatience and -tobacco, probably, before motioning his head towards the desk. “Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” His voice is frighteningly low, more rumble and bass than anything else, and sets the hairs on your arms on end.

His half-lidded eyes flick from the man beside you, ever so swiftly to you, then back. Face blank, uncaring. You stumble when Geto takes a few steps forward, basically dragging you behind him towards the chairs. When he lets you go, he gives you a look, and so you sit. Hands folding in your lap to keep them from picking at the edges of your clothing.

Or lack thereof. There’s a clean gold plate with the name Shiu Kong engraved at the very front of the desk, staring back at you. Your Alpha doesn’t hesitate to sit down too. “Major General Kong, Sir. A pleasure as always. You’ve lost some weight?”

“Hardly,” the man shoots right back, unfazed. “You can lay off the flattering.”

Geto and the stranger seem to converse with their eyes for a moment, before your owner gets comfortable in the velvet chair beside you, and hangs his arms over the back with a slight smile. The other man doesn’t bother to sit in his own chair across from you, instead just bending to get out one of the no-doubt expensive cigarettes, and lighting it. The smoke travels in slow, winding circles up to the ceiling as he hums. “So, the Omega. Y’ want to buy her?”

“I’d like her returned to my possession with the least amount of scratches when I get back, Sir.”

“We’re in a war, Suguru.” The man takes a short puff of his cigarette again, before putting his foot onto the chair and leaning in just barely. Dark, grayish eyes narrow. “You can’t pick out playthings at your whim. We have rules about these sorts of things.” The ash goes into the overfull ashtray, before those irises find you where you’re still slumped in the too-big chair. Almost amused, he lets out a bit of air through his nose, before punctuating his words with another drag. “Higher ranks get first picks, but if you’re gone, you’ll have to share. She looks healthy, young. Girls like that go for a lot of money these days.”

“I understand, Sir.” Geto’s smile doesn’t slip though, not even when he takes one of your hands and pulls until you get up. With his prompting, you instead sit back down on his lap instead, and the noiret hooks his chin over your shoulder when he strokes your thigh. You duck your head in shame. “It’s just that- she’s more of an indoor pet. I’d like to keep it that way, if possible.” His other hand winds under your chin to nudge it back up into view, as you shiver. Watch the attention of the superior officer linger just a second on the way your shirt falls around your hips.

Geto’s. “You have a mansion not too far from the front, as I understand it? And due to surely unfortunate consequences, your last Omega… broke.” His voice gleams as he says the words, and they seem to wind like a coiled spring around your neck. “I’m more than willing to part with mine for a while, if I could have a guarantee she’d be close by. Used sparingly.” You don’t know enough about the army to know if Shiu Kong has the kind of strings that Geto’s presuming he has— but you don’t really dare complain. The silence drags; before it crumbles into pieces when a slight relaxation pulls at the older man’s lips, cocking his head.

“Have her stand.”

You do, spurred on by the quick pat to your thigh and a winning smile, eyes fluttering as you trace the patterns on the floor. As the presence of the older Alpha fills your senses and he circles around you too close, he smells of smoke and a deep, woody musk that could bring you to your knees if you weren’t so used to it by now. After a round where his finger patiently brushes past your most valued features, he takes your face into his palm and forces your eyes up. Until you can no longer ignore the handsome face ducking down to meet your gaze.

You whimper. Let your face get turned here and there before he takes the end of the cig from between his lips, and addresses you directly. “You got a name?”

“Y-yes.” You stumble out, basically whispering it when he stares like that. He doesn’t have a kind face like Geto does, you notice, more angular, stubbled, at least a decade older too. You find yourself reaching for Geto’s hand despite knowing better, if only to have something to cling to as you blink away nervous jitters, and excess tears that are always ready to spill. Your bare feet shuffle against the carpet below.

Whatever he sees staring back at him is enough for his fingers to drop to your collar, dragging it either side with a grunt. “It’s some skill to find an unmated, pretty, little Omega hidden from the commission, Lieutenant… One would almost call it suspicious.” There’s a hint of amusement, one he pushes out alongside the butt of the cig. As if he knows he’s in, Suguru stands from the chair to put a comforting hand on your back and rubs circles through the flimsy fabric of his oversized shirt, tucking his thumb into the loose boxers you’re wearing below.

“I just get lucky, Sir. Omega’s delivered to the commission lose their charm too quickly, s’all.”

Shiu’s eyes give you another slow up and down, then he clicks his tongue. “So, what do you want in return for this present?”

“Nothing at all, really.” The hand pulls you into his side to nuzzle along your neck for some extra show, where he nibbles at the sensitive spot— makes you whimper like a bitch in heat. It’s loud enough for the other man to eat you up whole with his eyes, puffing out his chest a little to push off the desk. The swift hand wrapped around you gives you an adoring squeeze, before Suguru pouts into your temple like he’s parting with a prized possession. “Just that I get her back once I’m done with my service at the front in a few months.”

“Done.” Shiu busies himself with the bottle of expensive looking liquor, before casting you another glance. “Dress her in some actual clothes though, will ya? She already attracts enough attention as is.”

You stare at the fogged-up window with your duvet tucked to your chest, and breathe a few shallow breaths. There’s soldiers running up and down the camp, tucking their caps low against the biting wind. You only bother to follow one of them with your eyes, light hair peeking out from under the hat as he runs his laps. Instead of lingering on the thought, you shiver when a heavy, muscular arm pulls you around your waist and down into the bed. Shiu’s quick to let out a grunt, before opening his eyes and hooking his chin over your shoulder to nose at your neck. “You’re goin’ into heat soon?”

You barely dare shift when his stubble tickles your throat, and a few rough kisses get placed right over your pulse. “Probably. I-I’ll- ah-” His hand wraps around the base of your neck as he starts sucking on the sore skin, where bruises still sit from yesterday. You’re not sure if it’s his hands wrapped around your neck that caused it, or the way he bullied his cock way too deep into your throat— but you’re so sore. “I’ll need heat blockers for a while.”

“Mh,” he smells like tobacco. And a heavy, manly musk that’s so overwhelmingly Alpha. It’s distracting. It melts your tongue to the bottom of your teeth. “No need. We’re far enough away here that they won’t smell you. Or if they do, they can’t do anything about it anyway.” You blank, only to mewl and curl away when his lips and tongue rakes over a particularly sore spot, making your toes curl.

“But- b-but I,” you stutter, and one hand comes up to protect your scent gland from him as he gets up onto one arm to get on top of you. You haven’t gone through a proper heat in forever. It wasn’t ever safe even with just Beta’s around— you barely even remember what it feels like. Only that it hurts so bad it could make you sick. “But I don’t want to go into heat. It hurts.”

Shiu stops his barrage on your neck to frown at you, as he nudges your legs aside for his own thick thighs. One eyebrow raises at you like you’re dumb. “It doesn’t hurt when I’m here to breed you full, little girl.” He scans your face as he keeps pushing your one knee to your chest, before his mouth flattens out. “You don’t know that? You’ve never had an Alpha cock in here during heat?” It’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing— the way he eyes you like you’re some sort of idiot. It’s not like you had the privilege of trying it out before all this, hiding like a mouse. “Aw, baby girl. You’re so sweet.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“Daddy’ll have to teach you.” His large hand forces it’s way between your legs to squeeze your cunt and make you squirm under him, before he finally sits back and pushes the covers off, revealing the battle-worn body. “But not right now. Get up and go wash. We’re having company over.”

Your mouth’s dry, so you swallow tightly. “Who?” Your legs still tingle even when he gets out of bed, a little numb, a little achy.

“A… friend, I guess.” He picks out one of the cigarettes on the side table after putting on a shirt, and plops it between his lips. “You won’t like him.”

With sweat rolling down your neck, you stumble across the steam-coated tiles and grab onto the sink. Shaking like you’re ill. You definitely feel that way. It makes your entire skin feel statically charged, and sore, and so painfully needy. As soon as you take another step, you almost immediately topple over, legs trembling despite yourself. There’s no better sign than the dry feeling in your throat, and the way a whimper threatens to escape you with every move.

So you do all you can, and start tearing up as you wrap a towel around yourself. Even your own innocent touch feels too much, and you hurry through the process to barely manage pulling on a top and some panties, before your body refuses to oblige. You want to cry. Why did this have to happen now? Why here? Shiu hasn’t been bad to you, but he also isn’t particularly gentle. You didn’t want to go through heat at all. “Mh-mn, need- agh.” You whine thoughtlessly, as you wobble to the door.

There’s a swell of voices from down the hall— talking that doesn’t last long before falling quiet as you make your way to the bed. You’re so hot that it’s hard to keep your eyes open, your thighs rubbing uncomfortably as you walk. Thick, almost sticky tears wobble on your waterline, and the heat in your stomach sinks right into your center the more of the room you take in. It’s not your fault - everywhere you look it stinks of Alpha musk. Thick and overpowering to your flighty brain, it makes you want to keel over onto fours. You really are just a bitch in heat, and that is embarrassing too.

Makes you want to curl up onto a solid chest and let yourself get bounced onto his cock like a ragdoll.

It takes so much of your effort to drag yourself to the pillowed surface that you fail to hear the steps coming closer, let alone control that you’re scenting up the entire top floor when you crawl in and your pussy starts clenching around nothing. You’re mewling faint nothings as you stuff your face into the blankets— and smell only him. Heavy on your wet tongue.

“Agh, I- Al-pha, I need- it hurts. It hurts, I want you~” With your chest to the bed and your legs raised up, you just feel like you need to— to get filled up to the brim to make this aching stop. “Mhmm-ugh, please, pleas- need you, Shiu~” Slick’s already coating your pussy enough to slip right in, wet like the spit in your mouth that gathers under your tongue. Your head’s so light. It’s spinning.

Then, a heavy palm strokes over your crown, and your noises explode.

“Ah, ah, agh, daddy, daddy.” The weight of the touch travels down your neck to grip you, and your body curls to raise your ass even further up in need of friction. “Daddy, please. I don’t want to~ T-told you I- need-ed blockers. Ah, ahh.” The low chuckle you get isn’t the one you expect, but you can’t open your eyes enough to see what’s going on.

“Bit friendly for a hello, isn’t it?” There’s a huge body that surrounds you when leaning over you, as lips travel down behind your ear. “S’cute though. That’s a pretty girl. Daddy’s here.” Rough hands push your hips down with one swift move, slipping two fingers under your panties to pull the fabric taut. The slick grinds the fabric uncomfortably to your cunt, but you can’t be still. “Already drenched through your clothes, pet.” You don’t mean to. You don’t, you’re so sorry. “Whining like a little baby, need to get filled up?”

“Only thinking with this pussy, right? This is why Omega’s don’t run anything…” The lips ghost over your scent glands, making you squirm with dripping anticipation, when he lets his tongue run over his teeth and then along your throat. The juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, untouched and open and soft. He groans. “Ugh, fuckin’ hell, you’re so sweet. Your scent is almost making me sick.” One hand digs sharp nails into the meat of your ass, as the other reaches around to start pulling your camisole down over your sensitive tits. “Want some love from daddy, baby?”

A slightly raspier voice comes from somewhere behind you and drowns out your own whining and mewling. “I thought I told you to wait, Fushiguro.”

“Your pet was crying, Kong.” He rakes his teeth over that one spot again until you can’t stand it anymore, and your tears start dripping into the blankets. You push your chest out until his warm palm reaches around and squeezes, rubbing a thumb over your nipples. “Plus, just smell her. She’s scenting up the whole house. I wanted to come help.” After a long pause where you’re fighting the need to rub yourself on anything cock shaped like an animal— you’re turned over by a sturdy yank on your shoulder, and long fingers slide into your messy, drool filled mouth to press on your tongue.

Its Shiu, whose normally stern brow now is arched in amusement. The man on the bed with you moves away just enough to let you take a look, and take in the messy dark hair and almost metallic blue eyes, scarred face and dog tags hanging from his neck as he rolls onto his side. Shiu pinches your tongue to make you squeak, then leans in. “See you’ve already made introductions.” You mumble a pathetic ‘daddy’ under his sharp gaze, before he takes a deep breath.

“Poor girl, already going into heat? You didn’t last long. Needy, little pussy’s throbbing, isn’t it?” He pulls the top fully down until it’s hooked under your tits, then hums. “Look so cute when you’re begging to get fucked.”

“Gonna let me have a turn too?” Fushiguro rights himself onto one forearm, then pushes a finger down on your forehead until it's tilted all the way back and you’re looking up at him again. He’s got a mean sort of look in his eyes, right before his lips twitch when you groan softly at the touch. You literally can’t help yourself. It hurts so good— good enough to make you want to wrap your legs around either of their hips and stay there. Aches.

Shiu’s voice resonates through your body when he moves to kneel down to your body and starts kissing from your belly up, making you twitch. His gravelly hum reverberates in your clit, as your legs get spread over each shoulder when he comes up. “She’s not mine to give away Toji, so- ugh- restrain yourself a little.” His big hands smooth over your tits instead of squeezing you like you want, until you really start worming around under their touches.

“Mh~ hurry up!”

It’s out before you know it, and the backlash rushes straight to your cheeks in heat, burning up on your face. Fushiguro groans though, long and deep- before he pushes off the bed to get onto his knees, and grabs himself through the awfully casual clothing. His hand wraps around the large, large cock pressing against the fabric— and when you open your mouth and basically salivate at the sight- he lets out a lightly pinched chuckle. “Oh, you don’t wanna be doing all that, pet. You’ve got days of heat ahead of you— and you’re getting me hard as a motherfucker.”

All it’s doing is making you so horny you can barely see straight, and each inch of your body surges with electricity. You need something inside you. Now. Now, now, now. He runs a distracted hand through his messy fringe, and rolls his hips into his hand with a groan. “What’s it gonna be, Kong? If you take her underwear off I’m not leaving. Sweet, little thing like that…” Your legs are up by his ears when the familiar giant sits up onto the bed too, and your hand reaches for his to pull him closer by his thumb. “Haven’t had a greedy, fertile little Omega pussy in a while- the Commission always bitches I have too much fun.”

A hesitant furrow worms itself between Shiu’s brows for a bit, before he sighs. “Can’t bite ‘er, she’s not mine. I’m just keeping her.” His eyes are more blown out than normal, dark ring of black taking over the longer he touches you. You’re sure you’re similarly spent when you moan his name and he groans. “Fuck, baby. Want this Alpha cock in here?” His large hand smoothed over the supple skin of your lower belly, when you wiggle yourself against him, basically grinding onto his leg. “Needy, huh.” He licks his lips. “Fine, join. Can count us even after that.”

At that the other noiret grins, and pulls his shirt over his head in one swift move of agreement. Shiu’s hands already roam back over every bit of exposed skin. “And I get first turns.” The large fingers mindlessly playing with your nipple pinches you, when grayish eyes find you beneath him. “Get up.” With just a quick motion, you force your sluggish body up and onto fours— and fight the urge to force your head down yet again. That’s what would feel right.

“That-” Shiu’s hard too, you notice quite happily, when you grind back against him to find another thick, heavy bulge in his pants that heats your cunt. “That’s it.” You mewl, have no choice to. As you look back over your shoulder, he takes a moment to study you where you’re so much smaller beneath him. Omega’s always are, but these two are big even among other Alpha’s— more slick sticks your panties to the shape of your cunny. Your body’s entirely sticky with sweat, neck and throat aching and radiating heat all over you.

Your tongue melts in your mouth, when you look back and Fushiguro’s stripped down entirely— shredded body towering over you as well. He squeezes a rough ring around the flushed, pulsing head of his cock. “Uh, ugh-ah, daddy, daddy, daddy- Please? Please.”

“Who are you calling daddy?” The general asks sternly, but there’s no malice there. He’s amused as he peels the panties over the curve of your ass and down ever so slowly, letting your wet folds drip all over his fingers as he plays around in them. The touch makes you stagger forward, arms almost giving in— and you whine something unintelligible into the covers. “Fu~ck, you smell so sweet. Little Omega bitch in heat- ugh.”

A heavy hand lands on the swell of your ass, and stings so bad. With another spank your pussy clenches around nothing, and by the third you’re basically begging and your cunny’s sucking his fingers in. “A-daddy, please. Hurts. Uh-pu-lease. Need Alpha inside. Quickly, please. I-it hurts.” Another hand pets your crown for a few seconds, before he grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head up. Your mouth hangs open, and your tongue drops out at the sight of the hard, veiny cock before you.

It’s flushed a sweet sort of pink, nothing like you can already tell Fushiguro is— but drool still gathers in globs, looking at the precum glistening on him. “Gonna open your pretty, little mouth wide for me, pet?” As he strokes himself, the man behind you starts toying his fingers around your holes, and smears your slick all over until you’re entirely sloppy. Then chuckles, throwing his head back with a grunt.

“Fuck, forgot how hard I get- with Omega’s.” The slick sounds of your pussy, and both men's hands stroking their swollen cocks makes everything so loud. Wet and needy and animalistic— your own whining drowning out your thoughts. You just want more. More touch, please. Shiu spits onto your holes without hesitation and slaps his thick, hot cockhead against you a few times, before placing one hand on the middle of your back to force you in place. “Don’t run away from me- jus-t take it.”

“O-oh-fu-ugh.” He pushes inside with more of his weight, thick thighs pressing up against the inside of yours when you spread wider, and almost get pushed over. If not for Toji holding you up and rubbing himself along your cheek and lips too, impatiently stroking himself.

The head’s already big, stings on the way in. Enough to hurt, enough to make you tear up. He’s just so thick and glowing hot to the touch— basically pulsing inside you. You can feel his heartbeat through the skin as the head pops in with a lot of pressure. Your throat starts making noises despite you. “A-agh, ugh agh, da-I- ca— um-hnggg.”

“My turn,” Toji grunts after a bit, hooking a finger in your cheek to open your mouth more and coach your tongue out. “That’s- a good cockslut— open wide.” You do, letting spit drip as you relax your jaw and wrap your lips around him, filling up your mouth too much. You’ve never been so needy. The choking and the taste only make your eyes want to roll back in your skull, giving yourself over to them. You don’t want to do anything except give yourself over, struggling to make enough space between your legs to allow Shiu closer.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby, uhh-fuck.”

He’s still going slow, necessity, as each inch of his fat cock gets stuffed inside you, using his fingers to push more into your comparatively tiny cunt— and each bit deeper he goes, the more you feel like melting. It hurts, hurts and aches and bulges your stomach; and Fushiguro pushes deeper and bulges your throat- and it hurts- It does. But you can’t stop. You reach your arms out to wrap around the man’s glutes and pull him closer into your face, drool dripping down your chin. “Mh-mhm mhhuh.”

With his tongue trapped between his teeth, he grins. “Hah, you’re talking a lot for someone with their mouth stuffed— Does that feel good? You like choking on Alpha cock?” Your teary eyes try to focus on him, but you can’t, just cling on harder as the cock inside you kisses your cervix and he’s still not done. It aches so much, stretching you much wider than you’re meant to go. But it does, it does, it does. You don’t want to stop. “A little longer, that’s it, a little more~”

Instead you try to hollow your cheeks around him as he sits too deep in your throat, and fight the urge to squirm when your breath starts to pinch. Your body worms, you cry around them, and slick drips down your thighs like syrup. When Shiu bottoms out, it actually makes you gag, feeling so full and spent— and you squirm as Fushiguro keeps you. “Mh-hh- hck.” Your mouth aches as your lungs start to scream, and vision goes blurry.

Shiu pulls back before the other man does, groaning at the sight of sloppy, milky slick coating his cock, then slides back into your warmth just as fast, forcing your body to stretch again to make room. T-too big. “Let her- hh- up, she’s turning blue.” As you’re basically about to pass out, you get pulled off of him and gag violently, before taking sniveling, painful breaths again. You barely get the chance to breathe before your chin is lifted again, and he tilts your face left and right.

Your mouth drops open again, and tongue squirms around nothing. “More? You want more, greedy slut?” He smiles again, but more genuinely impressed this time— and hums. “Such a good, little Omega.” You can’t help it, you shiver and moan when he lets you back at his cock. And Shiu pulls back again only to fuck back into you, forcing you open as he builds a rhythm.

“She liked that one. She’s trying to clench my dick off.” He moans, and his unoccupied hand swipes some wetness dripping down your leg to circle it around your puckered hole instead. “You think she can take two?”

The cock gets stuffed back into your throat, but he pulls back faster now, instead using your head to fuck himself into you as he groans. “‘Nuh uh, she can’t. She’s too tiny— L-ook, you’re already -fuck- bulgin’ er.” He watches your lips struggle to wrap around him as he fucks your throat— only stopping for a moment to wipe some of the spit off your face. “She likes it so much though, look at that. You’re just a dumb, cocksleeve bitch, right? Want Alpha cocks to fill you?”

You can’t answer. Your brain’s all scrambled from the heat, a cloudy, pillowy feeling sitting over everything else. It feels so, so good. Being stretched to your limit, getting used. Your pussy clenches uselessly around the too-big invasion, getting bounced against Shiu’s thighs with a noisy ‘pap, pap, pap’. If you could think, you’d agree though. The pressure of his cock grinding into your sensitive insides, basically lifting you off your knees as he grabs your hips to jackhammer into you deeper, it’s all too much.

“Close?”

You’re drowning in your own arousal. After a few more seconds of getting used for all your worth, the expanding, pulsing pressure in your stomach grows too tight— and your toes curl uselessly as you cum without warning. It shatters inside you as you fail to clench around the thick length in you, instead dropping though your arms as you pull off of the cock in your throat to tremble through your orgasm. “Ah-hgh- ugh ah da-Alpha, Alpha, ahh ah agh! St-hngh~” You cry. Thick tears, spit and snot get wiped into the covers as you try to catch your breath, while still being fucked into.

You can’t stop shaking. Even then, Shiu’s cock keeps forcing the head against your cervix and making your eyes bulge. “Oh fuck, fuck- too tight— shit, I was this close, hah.” When he slips out for a second, you collapse entirely, aching immediately at the emptiness inside you. Your tits are sores, but everything else is burning so hot you feel like you might go up in flames.

It’s Fushiguro who picks you up by your arms and pulls you into his chest after a while, holding your pathetic, naked body like a ragdoll. “So cute now that you’re all flushed, cumming like that. But you’re not done, are you?” His fingers squeeze either side of your cheeks to bring your mouth to his, kissing on you until you respond and let his tongue melt against yours.

Your head’s still spinning, but a different kind of heat grows now in the base of your neck, desperate and needy. Your hand reaches to get more, more skin, pulling at the short hair at the back of his head- you moan into the kiss. Tongues and spit mixing as it slides down your throat and he towers over you, cock bouncing against your stomach. When he pulls back, long lashes brush yours, and you whimper when the touch goes.

Shiu’s staring. You can’t tell what expression he has, but it’s enough to make Fushiguro frown and lift his lip. “Fuck off. I get protective when they whine like that, s’all. She’s sweet when she’s cryin’ all baby like.” He instead focuses on pinching and toying with your puffy nipples, rubbing each side with rough fingertips, then hooks his chin over your head to look past you. “Wanna try the two of us at once?”

Instinct gets the better of you, and you’re already nodding against his pecs before you can think. “Two, two- w-want, please. Mhm, want Alphas.” It makes both men laugh, hands sliding all over you as you stick your ass out and Shiu spits on his hand. His cock’s still coated with wet, a white, creamy layer around the base of his cock as he strokes the head a few times. You’re seeing double, and your tongue feels like molten candy. But still you keep drooling and nodding. “Want, want you, wanna have- m-more, please.”

He then grabs your hips to yank you back against his hips, letting his cock push on your ass as his wet fingers curl inside your puckered hole, and stretch it out with two fingers. “She’s already fucked out of her mind, poor thing.”

“Mhm, agh- Alp- daddy, daddy— s’ sensitive- please, please, please~”

Fushiguro’s face blanks, before he takes a deep breath and groans low and gravelly, and grabs you by the neck. “Ugh, she’s- her scent is everywhere. Little bitch in heat moaning like it’s her job.” He buries his nose right where the most sensitive, burning part of your neck is, making you crumple, and kissing along the shell of his ear where you can reach. The fingers inside you, the pressure and heat of the two cocks against you— everything’s making you crazy. You’re losing your mind, trying to hang on to him as he licks over the glands. “Want daddy, baby?”

Your head bobs like it’s disconnected from your longing, arching body. And you almost cum again on the spot when sharp canines drag over that spot. You just might.

A low growling sound makes you open your eyes. Shiu’s hand is between the face and your neck, much to the other man’s dismay. “I told you not to bite ‘er. Don’t care how much she begs- she’s not ours to bite.” There’s a moment of silence between them, before Fushiguro sucks his teeth in annoyance, before grabbing his cock instead.

“She is mine.” His large hand wraps around your arm, and pulls— but your other shoulder is still clamped in Shiu’s palm. Almost painfully tight, as a muscle twitches in his jaw. And the tension between them is making you clam up, but your body’s still aching too hard.

“Share, please,” you sweeten your voice as you press your lips to Shiu’s knuckles, then present yourself a little more and shake your ass against him. “Please, daddy? Want to be full.” It doesn’t take long for that same flush to travel back up his chest and cheeks, and his irises to get wider and darker again. “Full of Alpha cum, t-take all of you.” It’s with that that he wraps an arm around you entirely and pulls you up against his chest, placing his cock between your legs as he lifts your knees. “Ack- agh.” You mewl, and Fushiguro leans in for another kiss.

Briefer, but no less messy.

Shiu’s quick to press his own kisses to your throat, letting his stubble rub over your scent glands— with your pussy clenching in response. He rolls his hips against you a few times, then lines up with your ass as he groans. “Hold her legs.” You take a deep breath, and close your eyes as the cock presses to your ass, slick enough to push in with minimal effort. “Uhuh, there’s a good Omega.” As he does though, the space in your body is so full, you’re struggling to breathe. It aches enough to make you wilt and bloom all at once.

And then Fushiguro takes over on your pussy, and you cry out. Your hot cheeks are coated with tears, and your clit thumps with all the blood. It’s too much. You can feel both of them slide into you with painful precision, wetness spilling all over as you break out in cold sweats. But it- it feels so good. Fushiguro slips in a few inches at once, making your legs shake— before you dig your nails into his shoulder and your vision goes black. “Oh- fuck-f-fuck, cu-mming~ Agh- uhh nghn, oh god.”

The two men slide you down until you’re so full it feels like your insides are moved aside to make room. Like you’re about to tear in two, squished between two hot, solid bodies. Before Shiu groans into your hair, and lifts you up to slide you back down. And again, and again. Bounced on the two of them while slick drips out of you, and you’re creaming around them both. “That’s a- ugh- pretty girl.” Your orgasm barely pitters out before you’re cumming again, and you’re getting kissed on as you’re crying.

Not a single thought makes it though you. You’re clinging on for dear life. Only the heat between the three of you as you melt into a puddle.

You’re fucked until you can’t even feel your legs, let alone hear how you’re mewling and crying— like you might dissolve. But you do feel it when a tongue laves over your neck, and the cock pulsing inside you starts jack-hammering into you harder than before. Everything feels so- good- that you’re probably drawing blood into his shoulders, and the tongue becomes teeth. One second you’re floating, and the next the pressure grows too much— teeth break skin, and your pleasure becomes mind-numbing.

Fushiguro’s teeth sink into your shoulder deeper as he breathes you in, fucks his cock into your guts with the intent to stay. And the other man grunts, squeezing you tighter. But without thinking, he follows suit to bite down on the other side of your neck, letting you shake through yet another orgasm when the hot blood runs down your collar. You’re entirely spent, so there’s not one part of you that still feels the way Shiu speeds up inside your ass, before groaning out your name as he licks along the wound.

“Fuck, gonna- knot my girl. Fuck- ugh, ughuh— my baby, mine. Mine.”

It feels like you’re stuffed further than you ever thought possible, face dropping into Fushiguro’s chest when they slow down, and ropes of hot cum drip out of you despite the knots. Wasting it in a way that you’d savor, if you had any energy left. Instead you can only barely breathe, and rub your nose into your Alpha’s chest. It feels good. You wanna go again.

“Uh— my bad. I got carried away.” One of them sighs after a while, the rumbling of his voice rocking you to sleep.

“Yea…” The other responds, only the slightest bit guilty. “…Guess Suguru will have to learn how to share.” His large hand smoothes over your cheek, before stubble and soft lips kiss over the mark he’s made.

“But I don’t think I wanna share.”

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