#I didn’t think he’d be ready for this so soon!

[moonstruck-muses]

birthday sex w sunghoon <3

- 🐰

HAPPY BELATED MY BELOVED BOOMF!! I feel so guilty this is so late but....well..enjoy xoxo

You had a peculiar relationship to your birthday. It’s not that you hated it, you just didn’t care for it. You didn’t people to be extra nice to you and treat you special one day of the year, if they weren’t going to bother the other 364 days. Sunghoon, however, was obsessed with you, and while yes he worshipped you every day, he took your birthday as the chance to truly go all out. And you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were a little flustered by it. Sunghoon had refused to divulge any details leading up to the day, no matter how much you whined for any sort of clue. 

When the day finally came, your alarm was a serious of slow kisses across your face—your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, gentle pecks at your list. You swat away the force invading your dreams grumbling as you turn over. 

��Shhhh I’m making out with the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my dreams,” you mumble.

“Ouch, I guess I’ll just go fuck myself,” Sunghoon teases against your ear. 

“Fuck me instead” you yawn out as you stretch and wrap Sunghoon in your arms. 

“Hey now, you can’t be spoiling all your birthday surprises so easily,” he says with a chuckle. 

You force your eyes open against the soft morning light and grin into the face of your boyfriend. 

“Happy Birthday, Baby.” He greets you. 

“Blehhhh,” you stick your tongue out and shake your head while you stretch. “Don’t remind me that I’m a year older.”

“And somehow, you’re still looking younger.” 

You snort, although you find Sunghoon’s cheesiness endearing. You’d give him the sun, and he’d give you the moon if you both could. 

*** 

Sunghoon let you laze in bed, but not too long. Just long enough to eat the extravagant brunch he made. There was itinerary he had planned—none of which you were privy to. But after you got ready, he took you by the hand, first leading you to your favorite cafe for a drink before taking you the ice skating rink. Both of you were former skaters, but this time the rink felt like your personal playground, both of you colliding into each other in giggling fits. The hours seemed to slip by without you noticed. Your phone consistently was lighting up with streams of messages from your friends, but you barely had time to respond, Sunghoon kept you busy. After the rink, was of course shopping, and then it was late enough in the day, you could call it for an early dinner. 

“I’m hungry, Hoon, “ you pouted. 

“Okay, okay, we’ll have dinner soon. Our reservation is at 6.” You checked the time on your phone—5:30. You recognized the road he was leading you towards—it was your favorite restaurant. It wasn’t frilly—in fact, it was very lowkey. But you had dozens and dozens of memories that you had made throughout the years, and the food there was nearly as comforting as your mom’s food from home. The two of you managed to get seated a little earlier in a booth near the back, it was early enough on a Saturday evening, you were just beating the dinner rush. 

“You’re always so prepared,” you praised Sunghoon as the server both poured you a glass of water. You rest your chin in the palm of your hand, batting your eyelashes. The dim lighting and soft music made the rest of the world fall away, so it was just the two of you, dancing in a snow globe. 

“Only the best for you,” Sunghoon responded, and you felt his leg rub up against yours underneath the table. “Did you have a good day?” He asked in follow up. 

“I spent it with you, of course I had a good day.”

“No, but be honest was it fun?” “I think it was the most fun I’ve had on my birthday in a really long time.” “Good,” Sunghoon said, and he reached out to squeeze your hand.

*** The rest of dinner was perfect, and you were happily buzzed by the time you made it back to your apartment. Sunghoon opened the door and you fell inside, your hand wrapped tightly around his arm. 

“I love you, Sunghoon,” you declared happily. 

“I love you too, Y/N,” He responded and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Do you want dessert, by the way?” 

Your brows furrowed. “Not really—“ He cuts you off with another kiss. 

“Well I want dessert,” he whispers against your mouth and his hands are sliding up underneath your dress, gripping into your thighs as he presses you against the wall, dragging his lips across your jaw and down your neck. You don’t fight the soft moan that comes out of you, and you run your hands up in his hair, happy to have the night go a little longer. 

You and Sunghoon are a tangle of limbs and flying clothes as he guides the two of you to your bedroom, falling down on top of you onto the plush sheets. His mouth travels up and down you like a starved man, luxuriating upon every taste of you, and he hold you tight with every twitch and roll of your body against him. 

“May I?” He asks, voice husky, eyes wild as his hands slide to your panties, and you frantically nod. 

Sunghoon palms your center, and the friction against your core elicits a gasp. 

“Don't tease me," You rasp. 

“Ah ah Ah," Sunghoon chides. “You let me take care of everything.” He’s slow and steady, drawing out every moan and gasp. His tongue expertly glides against your wet folds, lapping up every drop of sweetness he pulls from you and fter your first orgasm, he decides it isn’t enough. 

“Let me in, baby,” he whispers against you, eyes glazed with desire as his mouth still glistens from you. You look up from underneath him and even though your body is exhausted, you nod. 

“I want you, Hoon, I want to feel you inside me so bad.” “I want you, Y/N,” he pleads, desperate to feel one with you. And you’re so wet, that when he wets his girthy tip against you, rubbing it up and down your soaked cunt, it slips right in. 

Your eyes rolls back from the sensation, and Sunghoon curses under his breath, gripping the headboard to steady himself as he pushes into you inch by inch. 

“You’re so warm and perfect for me,” He croons and all you can think about is how he smells so sweet, his lips so pink, and his touch so gentle as he rolls his hips against yours. 

“Hold on tight, okay baby?” He says softly, and you obediently dig your nails into his back, wrapping your legs around his and squeezing tight. He feels it, feels your pussy tighten around his cock and he buries his face into your neck, trying to pace himself as his body tenses. Sunghoon nips and presses soft kisses to the tender skin at your neck, all the meanwhile picking up pace. He deftly grabs one of the pillows and sweeps it under your hips, elevating you, and you cry out his name as the new angle hits harder and deeper. 

“I want to look at your face while you cum,” Sunghoon whispers, and the dark husk of his tone brings you to the edge then and there. 

“Cum with me love,” you beg, and Sunghoon wraps his hands around your hips, squeezing tight as he thrusts into you relentless. He pushes himself up a bit and brings a finger to your clit, and you gasp, feeling pleasure in every single nerve ending. 

“Mmm—Hoon!” You gasp, “I’m close I’m close, I’m gonna come, I”m gonna come I’m gonna—!” You break off babbling, and Sunghoon collapses on top of you as he reaches his high and you unravel together on your bed at the same time, holding each other tight as you come down from ecstasy. 

“Happy Birthday my love,” Sunghoon says with a hoarse laugh as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Happy, happy, happy birthday.”

[chheolie]

dad seokmin forgot to keep his promise

seokmin was having one of those days where he planned to spend the entire afternoon entertaining his son with the most outlandish games he could think of. full of enthusiasm, he turned on the toy fire truck, which started zooming across the floor with its lights flashing and siren echoing throughout the room.

"look at this, buddy!" he exclaimed, excitedly, calling his little one over to watch the toy in action.

but to his surprise, his son, sitting on the floor with a surprisingly firm look, just crossed his arms and put on an expression that looked way too serious for a three-year-old. his little lips pushed out into a dramatic pout, as if he was experiencing the worst day of his life.

seokmin raised an eyebrow, confused, trying to decipher the unexpected reaction.

“is he mad about something? or maybe he just doesn’t like fire trucks anymore?” he thought, watching his son curiously.

determined to keep trying, he brought the truck closer and attempted to get him excited again.

"let’s put out the fire, son!" he said in an upbeat tone, waving the toy from side to side, trying to make it as fun as possible.

to his complete shock, the little boy, still with his pout intact, kicked the truck with his chubby foot, sending it sliding across the rug until it bumped against the couch leg. the kid’s angry face only grew, and the pout? somehow, it looked even bigger.

seokmin had to try really hard not to laugh. he felt his lips tremble with the urge to let out a chuckle, but he held it back. he didn’t want to make his little one any more upset.

"okay, my love… you don’t want to play with the fire truck," seokmin said in a softer, more paternal tone. "how about we go for a walk outside?" he suggested, smiling as if it was the most amazing idea ever.

the boy looked at his dad with a mix of disapproval and stubbornness, then turned his face away, crossing his arms even tighter.

seokmin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling clueless. he tried everything he could think of – he even offered to go outside and watch the “big trucks” his son usually loved to see, but nothing worked. feeling at a loss and a little desperate, he finally picked up his phone to call for help from the real expert: his wife.

with quick fingers, he typed a message, and soon his phone buzzed with a reply.

seokmin: babe, help.

he saw the typing bubbles pop up and then the message appeared.

seokmin: i think i just became our son’s number one enemy. 😩😩

y/n: 🤨 really? why?

seokmin: he won’t talk to me. won’t play with his favorite fire truck, doesn’t even want to go outside…

y/n: did you ask him why? maybe it’s something important

seokmin: babe… he’s only three. how’s he supposed to know how to explain what he’s feeling? 🥺

y/n: 🙄 ASK HIM, seokmin.

seokmin was ready to finally fix the situation, but he couldn’t resist asking his son one more time, now that the little boy seemed a bit less upset.

"son, did daddy do something wrong? why are you so upset?" he gently held his son’s tiny shoulders. "is there anything daddy can do to make you not be mad anymore?"

the little boy looked at him, still pouting, and said in a slightly teary voice, "you… you pwomised… stwawbewwy ice cweam… and you fowgot!"

seokmin had to cover his mouth to hide his laughter. of course, it was about food! and he vaguely remembered mentioning something about ice cream the night before, but with all the excitement and games, he’d completely forgotten.

"oh, son… i’m really sorry! daddy forgot about the ice cream!"

seokmin quickly grabbed his phone and texted his wife, almost as if he needed her to witness what he’d just discovered.

seokmin: babe, he said it

seokmin: i promised him strawberry ice cream after lunch, can you believe it? 😩😩

almost immediately, her reply came in.

y/n: really? i’m a witness.

seokmin: i forgot i’d promised that 😳

seokmin: but… how could he remember that? he’s just a baby!

y/n: he’s your son, seokmin. your legacy: selective memory for sweets and pizza.

seokmin: 😅😅😅😅😅

y/n: give him his ice cream before he packs his bag to run away from home.

laughing at the thought of his son packing a bag and searching for a new home that took ice cream promises seriously, seokmin headed to the kitchen to prepare the long-awaited treat. he grabbed a small bowl, added a few scoops of strawberry ice cream, and went all out: strawberry syrup, colorful sprinkles, and of course, a cherry on top. he carried the bowl back to the living room like it was a trophy, still imagining which uncle his son might ask for refuge with. maybe vernon? surely he wouldn’t forget a promise.

"here it is, buddy! your strawberry ice cream, with everything you deserve!"

the little boy, now with bright eyes, immediately dropped his pout and grabbed the bowl with both tiny hands, amazed by what he saw.

"yummy!" he said, fully focused on the ice cream and visibly happy.

seokmin crouched down beside him and asked hopefully, "so… do you forgive me for forgetting?"

the child nodded, but he was so engrossed in the ice cream that seokmin wasn’t sure if the forgiveness was genuine or just temporary. the ice cream was clearly priority number one.

he quickly sent another message to y/n.

seokmin: he forgave me…

seokmin: but i’m not sure we’re totally okay yet… i think his heart’s still divided between the ice cream and the grudge.

y/n: hahaha, i’m glad for you, babe.

seokmin watched as his son enjoyed the ice cream, and with each spoonful, the little boy let out a happy “mmm!” while seokmin watched, relieved to have made things right.

when his little one finished, he held up the empty bowl and grinned.

"was it good?" seokmin asked, smiling back at him.

"good, good!" he replied with his sweet little voice and eyes shining with joy.

suddenly, the boy got up, handed the bowl back to seokmin without much ceremony, and ran over to the fire truck still sitting on the floor.

"wooo woo woo woo!" he started imitating the fire truck siren with excitement, waving his dad over to join the game.

seokmin wasted no time. he ran to the kitchen to put the bowl down and, in seconds, was back in the living room, ready for the new mission to save the world. he pretended to put on an invisible firefighter helmet and gave his son a salute.

"firefighter seokmin reporting for duty!" he announced with a determined, goofy expression. "what’s the emergency, chief?"

his son held onto the toy truck, looking at him with serious little eyes.

"fire! big fire! daddy, come!" he shouted, running around the room with the truck while seokmin followed, pretending to turn on a siren.

the house transformed into a "fire station," and the two of them spent the next several minutes saving stuffed animals from the imaginary blaze.

seokmin: babe, we’re friends again

seokmin: we’re playing firefighters

y/n: alright, mr. firefighter, don’t make promises you won’t remember to keep

seokmin: 🫡🫡🫡

[wethotcrazy]

Parallel Lines

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Olympic Figure Skater! Reader

word count: 6638

i've had this marinating in my brain for a bit. i just think that racing and skating have such interesting juxtaposition so here it is.

Sagamihara always had a sleepy kind of charm, but Yuki and YN felt something else in the quiet mornings and late nights, the stillness only broken by the hum of dreams in motion. Growing up here meant routines and rituals, like early morning alarms and empty streets, the cold air pinching at their cheeks as they walked out to different but parallel paths.

They’d seen each other countless times over the years: two kids with big dreams crossing paths by chance, brushing against each other’s lives without ever truly touching. YN was always the girl with the figure skates slung over her shoulder, eyes bright and posture poised even at dawn. Yuki, in contrast, was the scrappy boy with an endless supply of karting posters and racing memorabilia, always dashing toward the next practice with the fierce focus of a kid who already knew his path.

When they passed each other, there was always a nod, a polite “Good morning” or “Good night,” exchanged in those shared spaces—two people who understood the solitude of dreams.

The first time Yuki saw her was on his way home after a long day at the track, dirt and oil streaked across his cheek. YN was on her way to the rink, her skates glittering in her hands, her hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail. She looked ready to take on the world, and he couldn’t help but admire that, even as he ducked his head slightly, embarrassed by his own disheveled state. She’d simply smiled, nodding in that small, knowing way, and gone on her way.

Yuki didn’t know it at the time, but that look—the look of someone fully consumed by a dream—was something he’d come to recognize again and again over the years.

As they grew older, they kept moving in the same direction: toward ambition, toward something beyond Sagamihara. But they’d drifted apart in other ways. Yuki’s weekends became filled with karting, and then, one day, with plans for Europe—his sights set on Formula 1. YN’s weekends were consumed by rink hours, the constant, punishing quest to perfect each routine, each jump, each spin. They still crossed paths, sometimes outside the ice rink or the train station, exchanging those same fleeting nods.

It was strange—Sagamihara wasn’t large, yet somehow, they’d managed to orbit each other like planets, moving along parallel paths that never seemed to converge.

One summer evening, just after dusk, they crossed paths again, older now, YN carrying a gym bag and wearing a jacket from the national team, Yuki carrying a helmet, his clothes scuffed from a day of karting. They stood there, paused on the quiet street, and he couldn’t help but break the usual silence.

“You’re still skating, then?”

She nodded, her eyes warm with a familiar determination. “And you’re still racing.”

“Planning to stop anytime soon?” he teased.

Her smile was small, but it held a kind of fierceness. “Not until I make it.”

“Same here.”

The weight of their dreams hung in the air between them, the invisible wall that had always been there but that they’d learned to accept. There wasn’t any need for explanation, just that shared understanding. They were alike, but separate, and they knew the sacrifices and loneliness that came with chasing something so big.

Years passed like that, each of them watching the other only in passing—Yuki catching glimpses of her in news clips, her routines sharpened with an artistry that almost seemed untouchable, while she’d see photos of him in magazines and on TV, headlines proclaiming his meteoric rise through the ranks of motorsport. Every success felt like a nod to each other, a reminder of the dreams that had been born back in Sagamihara.

One winter, when Yuki was back in Japan for the off-season, he found himself walking through their old neighborhood, a rare moment of quiet for him. Snow had settled on the streets, muffling the sounds of the city and creating that same early-morning hush that he remembered from childhood.

At the ice rink, he spotted her just coming off practice. She noticed him, her eyes widening a bit in surprise, then softening in recognition.

“Yuki,” she said, her voice warm in a way that held their shared history, even if they’d never shared much more than a nod. “You’re here.”

“Just for a bit. Off-season,” he replied, feeling that same familiar ease, as though they’d just picked up an old, comfortable habit.

They didn’t need to say much; that was the thing about two people who’d been chasing dreams their whole lives—they’d run out of words long ago. Instead, they sat side by side on the cold metal bench outside the rink, their breaths visible in the chilly air. For a moment, it felt as if they were kids again, those same two quiet strangers in the early hours of Sagamihara, bound by something unspoken but unmistakable.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Yuki murmured finally, glancing over at her. “How we’ve always been here, but never really…here.”

YN nodded, looking out at the snowy street, her skates resting by her side. “Maybe we’ll always be a little like that. Parallel. Just…passing each other.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Maybe. But I think I’m okay with that.”

And in that moment, they both knew it was true. They’d never really needed each other to understand. Their connection was there, solid but silent, like the hum of the early morning streets of Sagamihara that had once seen them both grow and rise, side by side.

As Yuki settled into his off-season routine, blissfully unaware, an unexpected storm was brewing on the internet. It began when a fan account posted an old, grainy yearbook photo that seemed to have no apparent significance—just two kids from Sagamihara, tucked into a corner of the page. Yuki Tsunoda, grinning with that familiar spark in his eyes even at a young age, and right beside him, YN, with a shy, focused look that hinted at the grace she’d later bring to the rink.

The photo alone might have gone unnoticed. But within hours, more yearbook photos appeared, retweeted and reshared by fans who’d pieced together the fact that these two seemingly unrelated athletes had shared more than just a hometown.

One especially dedicated fan managed to dig up an old article from a Sagamihara newspaper, “The Rising Stars of Sagamihara,” a feature highlighting young, local talents. In it was a tiny column dedicated to a 10-year-old Yuki Tsunoda, “the lightning-fast karting prodigy,” and a paragraph further down, highlighting YN, “the local ice princess.” The two write-ups were paired with side-by-side photos: Yuki in a helmet, hands on his karting wheel with that mischievous grin, and YN in her skating attire, her posture proud and determined even at such a young age.

Fans started to piece it together: the fact that they’d grown up in the same neighborhood, gone to the same schools, and even shared the same early mornings and late nights, each in their own world yet strangely intertwined. And it wasn’t long before the discovery of an old, archived video from a local TV broadcast surfaced online—a brief segment from years ago that fans began to pass around excitedly.

In the clip, the young, wide-eyed Yuki stood outside his local karting track, excitedly describing his dream of one day becoming a Formula 1 driver. The interviewer had asked him, “What’s the best part of racing?” Yuki had grinned, eyes lighting up in a way that was still familiar to his fans today. “Going fast,” he’d said simply. “And getting better each time. I want to be the fastest in the world.”

The video then cut to the local ice rink, where a young YN was carefully lacing up her skates, so focused on the task that she barely noticed the camera. When the interviewer asked her what drove her to skate, she’d answered with quiet conviction, “I just love it. I want to make it to the Olympics someday. It’s…where I need to be.”

The segment was barely two minutes long, but it captured two kids with dreams that stretched far beyond Sagamihara, two kids who, even back then, had an uncanny sense of direction and drive. Fans, both of Yuki and of the Olympic skating world, couldn’t help but feel like they’d uncovered a rare glimpse into a shared story—two kids from the same neighborhood, their paths woven together by dreams, even if only in the way they passed each other.

Social media blew up with fan theories, speculating on how often their lives must have intersected, how many times they might have passed each other on their way to training. Photos surfaced, sent in by locals who had watched them both grow up in Sagamihara—some just vague, fleeting memories: “I remember seeing them both at the train station on winter mornings!” or “I used to watch Yuki at the track and YN at the rink. They were both so intense, so dedicated, even as kids.”

Yuki had been mostly offline during his break, enjoying a rare stretch of quiet, until one of his friends finally texted him about it. Amused, he clicked through the screenshots and articles, surprised by how far fans had gone to piece together these memories. He hadn’t even remembered half of them himself. One of the photos, an old class trip snapshot, brought a small smile to his face—YN and him standing near each other, neither of them smiling for the camera, both distracted, probably thinking about their next practice.

Meanwhile, YN caught wind of it from one of her friends, who sent her a link with a message: “Look! You’re practically trending!”

She’d laughed at first, scrolling through tweets and posts, memories flashing back like scenes from an old movie: her hurried mornings at the train station, those late-night practice sessions when she’d sometimes catch a glimpse of Yuki heading home from the karting track, their nods and polite hellos. She couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic—she hadn’t realized how much those quiet moments had mattered to her, how they’d become part of the story of her dream.

One night, not long after, Yuki texted her.

“Have you seen the whole internet making us childhood rivals or something? Lol”

She smirked, fingers tapping quickly to reply.

“Or ‘childhood sweethearts,�� depending on who you ask.”

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed with his reply:

“They’re not totally wrong. Not the rivals part, anyway.”

She chuckled at that, surprised by the warmth the message brought. There was a comfort in knowing that he remembered those early days too, that those moments of passing each other had meant something, even if it had been unspoken.

“Maybe they’ll call us ‘parallel dreamers’ next,” she replied.

And as she lay back on her couch, scrolling through the old photos and shared memories, she realized something: maybe their paths had been parallel, and maybe they’d drifted apart in pursuit of those dreams, but Sagamihara had left its mark on both of them. It was their shared starting line, the place where they’d both learned to dream and to fight, even if their paths had rarely converged.

A few days later, Yuki was in Tokyo for a media event, and on an impulse, he texted her again.

“Coffee? For old times’ sake?”

When they met at a small, tucked-away café in the city, there was an ease between them, as if the years and distance hadn’t changed a thing. They laughed over the fan theories, traded stories about the yearbook photos and old video clips, and shared some of the strange, wonderful feeling of seeing their quiet little corner of Sagamihara suddenly brought to light.

“I always thought you were so intense back then,” Yuki teased, raising an eyebrow. “Every time I saw you, you looked like you were going into battle.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Formula 1,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “I’d see you at the track, looking like you were in some kind of racing trance. You know, you used to scare me a little.”

He laughed, a sound that was so warm and familiar. “Guess we were both a little intense. Guess we still are.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the bustling street outside, each of them thinking back to those early mornings and late nights in Sagamihara, to the unspoken connection that had somehow brought them back together, even in the vastness of their separate worlds.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asked quietly, her gaze softening. “Sagamihara, I mean. Those early days?”

He nodded, his expression wistful. “Sometimes. I think I miss the simplicity of it. The way it felt to just…dream.”

She looked at him, and in that moment, she felt the weight of all those years, of all the mornings and nights they’d shared in passing, two strangers who had never truly been strangers at all.

“Me too,” she said softly. And for the first time, it felt like they weren’t just passing by—they were here, in this moment, together.

The whole thing still felt surreal to YN. Figure skating had always been a quiet pursuit, one that seemed to exist in the background of mainstream attention—until the Winter Olympics came around, when suddenly, the whole world seemed to tune in. But this recent surge of attention felt different. It wasn’t just about her skating career anymore; it was as if her whole childhood was being reexamined through this strange, nostalgic lens. Fans couldn’t seem to get enough of the idea that she and Yuki had spent their earliest years unknowingly sharing the same road.

And, somehow, the more the fans uncovered, the more it actually brought her and Yuki together.

They began to message each other regularly, trading stories from their childhood that they hadn’t even realized they shared. YN would find herself laughing as she read Yuki’s late-night messages, recounting moments she’d almost forgotten—like the time they’d both been late for school on the same day because they’d each missed the early train, or the little neighborhood shop where they’d each spent their allowances on sports magazines and energy drinks, practically standing side-by-side without knowing it.

One evening, YN received a message from Yuki that included an old photo she had completely forgotten about. It was a group photo from a school field day, and there they were, standing a few feet apart in their gym uniforms, each of them looking off in different directions, probably already thinking about the next practice, the next goal. The caption he’d written was simple:

“Look at us, already daydreaming.”

She found herself smiling, typing back:

“I think we were both always somewhere else.”

To her surprise, Yuki replied almost immediately.

“Maybe we were just waiting to catch up.”

Something about that made her pause, her heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. She hadn’t expected this sudden closeness—hadn’t expected to find herself confiding in him so naturally, like they were picking up a conversation they’d started years ago but never quite finished.

Something about that made her pause, her heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. She hadn’t expected this sudden closeness—hadn’t expected to find herself confiding in him so naturally, like they were picking up a conversation they’d started years ago but never quite finished.

The fans, meanwhile, were relentless. More photos and old stories kept surfacing, and every new discovery seemed to send the internet into a frenzy. Some old classmates even came forward with their own memories, adding to the charm of it all. One of the most popular was a story from a girl who remembered how Yuki and YN would always be the first ones out the school gates after the last bell, each headed in different directions, both of them racing the clock to get to their practices on time. “They looked like they were in some kind of secret competition,” the girl had written with a laugh. “They never even knew they were competing.”

The two of them found it all endlessly amusing, and they often texted each other late into the night, reminiscing and teasing each other about the memories fans kept unearthing.

Then one night, YN found herself scrolling through her messages with Yuki, reading back through the familiar exchanges that had slowly become part of her days. She felt a pang of nostalgia, and on a whim, she texted him:

“Hey, do you remember that old café near the train station? The one with the melon soda floats?”

He texted back almost instantly.

“The one where I spilled a whole soda on myself? Yeah, I remember. Want to meet up there?”

The next afternoon, they found themselves back in that cozy, faded café, sitting across from each other with melon soda floats, just like they had years ago. She watched as Yuki took a sip, and they both burst into laughter as he wrinkled his nose, clearly not used to the sweetness anymore.

“Wow, it tastes exactly the same,” he said, putting the glass down with a mock grimace. “How did we drink these all the time?”

YN laughed. “Guess we didn’t know any better.”

They sat there, talking easily about their childhood routines, each one of them filling in gaps in the other’s memories. Yuki told her about the hours he’d spent working on his kart at the local track, about the old man who used to stop by and offer him tips, and she found herself captivated, imagining the younger Yuki she’d only ever seen in glimpses.

She told him about the hours at the rink, practicing spins until her legs shook, the evenings when she’d watch the last of the sunlight filter through the windows and think about what it would feel like to one day skate for an audience that stretched far beyond Sagamihara.

As she talked, Yuki looked at her with a softness she hadn’t quite seen before. “I remember,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of awe. “I remember seeing you after practice, with your skates hanging over your shoulder. You always looked…so focused, like you were in a world of your own.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth blossom in her chest. “I always thought you looked like you were ready to take on the world.”

They sat there, a comfortable silence settling between them, and for a moment, it felt as if they were back in Sagamihara, just two kids chasing their dreams, both of them trying to make sense of a feeling they hadn’t quite had words for back then.

But this time, it was different. This time, they were here, and the world wasn’t pulling them in opposite directions.

That night, after they’d said their goodbyes and gone their separate ways, YN found herself thinking about Yuki long after she got home. She scrolled through her messages, re-reading the conversations they’d shared over the past few weeks, the memories they’d uncovered together, the fragments of their shared past that had slowly pulled them closer.

And as she lay in bed, her phone buzzed with one last message from him.

“Thanks for today. It was…good to be back. With you.”

She smiled, her heart warm with a quiet happiness she hadn’t quite felt before. She typed a quick reply:

“Good to be back, too. And hey—don’t forget, I beat you to practice every time back then.”

The next morning, as she headed to practice, she found herself smiling as she passed by familiar streets and old buildings. For the first time in a long time, she felt a kind of peace settle over her, a sense that maybe, just maybe, she’d finally found a piece of home in the most unexpected of places.

And perhaps, she thought with a quiet hope, this time their paths wouldn’t just cross—they might actually find themselves walking side by side, together.

At first, it was subtle, almost like a game of hide-and-seek played by two people who didn’t really want to hide. YN’s posts were usually quiet, focused on her routines, her performances, the ice rink early in the morning or late at night when it was empty and calm. But lately, fans had noticed a difference. There were little hints—a second coffee cup on the table, a shadow beside her in the mirror at the rink, a half-smile that seemed directed at someone just out of view.

And then, there was Yuki. His own fans, well-attuned to his habits, noticed he was a little more active online than usual, sharing bits and pieces of his days that were uncharacteristically… soft. He’d always had a down-to-earth presence, but now there was something more thoughtful to it—a kind of quiet happiness that seemed to radiate from even the simplest posts. A casual photo of him at a cafe would have a book next to his coffee, open to some obscure passage about ambition and the journey to reach it. In another post, he was on a quiet Tokyo street at dusk, the caption a single kanji: “帰” (home).

Most fans brushed it off as coincidence—until the first fan sighting happened. It was a quiet Tuesday, and Yuki and YN had snuck away to a tiny ramen shop tucked into one of the side streets of Tokyo, hoping to escape the city’s usual rush. They were deep in conversation, heads bent close together, laughing at some shared joke as they slurped noodles. Neither noticed the two fans a few tables over, both of whom sat in stunned silence, glancing at each other with wide eyes.

Photos surfaced on social media within hours. The fandom went into an instant, thrilled frenzy as fans dissected every detail—the relaxed way they seemed to sit together, the way Yuki had looked at her while she laughed, the unmistakable ease and familiarity that only came with years of shared history. And as more fans pieced together the clues that had been scattered across their social media, the internet’s interest in “the childhood rivals” reignited in a big way.

Some fans were quick to pull out old screenshots, examining the places YN had been posting about recently, pointing out landmarks that seemed to match up with places Yuki had been seen as well. Others dissected old interviews and clips, spotting the subtle changes in their expressions whenever their respective childhoods in Sagamihara were brought up. It was as if, now that fans knew what to look for, the hints were everywhere, woven quietly through both of their lives.

One day, YN’s manager pulled her aside, gently asking if she’d seen the fan reaction. She had, of course, though she’d tried not to look too closely, letting herself stay in the bubble of their quiet, everyday moments. But curiosity got the better of her, and that night, she found herself scrolling through post after post, watching fans piece together their shared past like some kind of romantic detective story.

There was one thread in particular that made her pause, an almost absurdly thorough breakdown of all the times YN and Yuki had likely crossed paths as kids. It included everything from their school schedules to their practice times, even a speculative timeline of when they might have seen each other at the train station.

One of the fans had written, “I think what I love most about this whole thing is that they were just… there, for each other, all those years. Even if they didn’t realize it. It’s like they were connected without ever needing to say anything.”

As she read, she found herself smiling, remembering those long, quiet mornings, those nods exchanged across empty streets. And when her phone buzzed with a new message from Yuki, she almost laughed at the timing.

“Guess they’re onto us, huh?”

She typed back, fingers moving almost without thinking.

“I think they like it. Us. All those years we kept passing each other.”

A few seconds later, his reply appeared.

“It’s kind of nice, actually. I didn’t know it’d mean this much to people.”

“To me, either,” she replied, pausing, feeling the weight of those words. “But I think they see it now—how we’ve been part of each other’s lives, all this time. Even if it was just little things.”

And that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? She’d grown up knowing his silhouette from across the street, his familiar nod, the way he’d look at her with a small, tired smile after a long day, as if they were acknowledging the quiet cost of their dreams. Those small gestures had added up, building something she hadn’t fully realized until now.

A few weeks later, when the off-season was almost over, Yuki suggested they meet at the old track in Sagamihara. She was surprised—after all, they’d both moved on, their worlds much larger than they’d been as kids, but something about the idea felt perfect.

When she arrived, Yuki was already there, leaning against a guardrail with a nostalgic grin on his face. The track was empty, just as it had been in their childhood, and he waved her over, his smile widening as she approached.

“Welcome back,” he said, his voice soft, filled with a quiet happiness she’d grown to recognize.

They walked around the track, sharing stories from their childhood that felt both old and new. Yuki told her about his first time racing there, how he’d stayed up all night the day before, too excited to sleep. She laughed, admitting she’d once done the same thing before her first competition, spending the entire night pacing around her room, practicing jumps she’d already perfected a hundred times.

They ended up sitting side by side in the stands, looking out at the track, lost in memories. After a while, YN spoke up, her voice barely a whisper.

“Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d actually been friends back then?”

Yuki tilted his head, considering her question. “Maybe we were, in a way. I mean, we were there for each other, right? Even if we didn’t talk much.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “I think we were, too.”

He looked over at her, a gentle warmth in his eyes. “Well, we’ve got all the time in the world to catch up now.”

The simplicity of his words settled over her, filling a space she hadn’t realized was empty. She smiled, reaching out to lightly nudge his shoulder. “Guess we do.”

The fans, of course, noticed the Sagamihara track photo she posted later that night—a wide shot of the track at dusk, golden sunlight pooling over the asphalt. No sign of Yuki in the frame, no hints in her caption, just a simple line: “Sometimes, going back means moving forward.”

But to her, it felt like a quiet declaration—a way of honoring the years they’d spent running toward their dreams, passing each other like strangers on a shared road. And even if the whole world knew about them now, it didn’t change the fact that this was, at its heart, theirs alone: two kids from Sagamihara, two dreams that had always run parallel, finally side by side.

The end of the break came faster than either of them expected, and with it, a quiet sense of loss that lingered as Yuki prepared to leave for Europe. For years, leaving home had been easy, almost routine. But this time, Sagamihara felt different. It was as if his small hometown was charged with a new kind of energy—one that came from having someone there who felt like home in a way he hadn’t fully expected.

But, even though they couldn’t be in the same place, Yuki and YN settled into a rhythm of staying close despite the distance. Texts flew back and forth, little jokes and stories from their days. The hours spent on FaceTime became a kind of ritual, each call bringing with it a familiar warmth and comfort that reminded them both of those shared streets and the quiet dreams of Sagamihara.

One evening, on a call, Yuki mentioned an idea that had been buzzing in his mind for a while.

“You should come to a race,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes bright. “I mean, if you’re interested. It’s not exactly like a skating competition, but… it’s something you’ve got to experience live.”

Her face lit up on the screen. “Are you serious? I mean, I’ve watched some races since we started talking, but I’ve never seen it in person.”

He grinned. “Oh, it’s totally different live. The sound, the atmosphere… it’s like nothing else.” He paused, then added, “Besides, it’d mean we get to see each other again.”

It didn’t take long for her to say yes.

The day of the Grand Prix arrived, and as YN stepped into the bustling paddock, she was hit by a mix of excitement and nerves. She’d seen glimpses of this world through Yuki’s stories and posts, but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer intensity of it—the colors, the noise, the energy crackling through every inch of the place. There was a sense of purpose everywhere, a buzzing energy that felt so different from the serene calm of an ice rink but somehow familiar, too. It was the feeling of athletes chasing something, pouring themselves into every detail, every second, every breath.

And then, there he was. Yuki spotted her from across the paddock, weaving through the crowd with a wide grin, looking more animated than she’d ever seen him. They met with an easy hug, as if no time had passed since they’d last seen each other. She couldn’t help but laugh, taking in his racing suit, his excitement radiating off him in waves.

“It’s even crazier in person,” she said, glancing around, trying to absorb everything at once. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

He laughed, looking both proud and a little sheepish. “Yeah, it’s… it’s a lot. But you’ll get used to it. I wanted you to see it, though. This is… well, it’s my version of the rink, I guess.”

They walked through the paddock, with Yuki explaining everything from the intense setup behind each car to the team’s relentless preparation. She could see the pride in his eyes, the way he moved around his car with a sense of ownership, a reflection of the countless hours he’d spent on tracks, working toward this dream. And she could feel it—this was where he belonged, where every step and sacrifice from their childhood had led him.

He introduced her to a few members of his team, laughing as they teased him about finally bringing a friend to a race. She watched as he interacted with his team, realizing for the first time just how much responsibility he carried. The boy she remembered from Sagamihara had grown into someone steady and sharp, someone whose determination had molded him into a presence that filled the space around him.

When the race started, she was in awe. The sheer speed, the roar of the engines, the crowd’s cheers—all of it combined into a visceral thrill that went beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She found herself gripping the railing, watching Yuki’s car flash past, feeling every twist and turn like it was happening to her. She hadn’t expected to be so captivated, but here she was, heart pounding as if she were skating a program of her own.

After the race, when things quieted down, Yuki found her in the paddock again. He was exhausted, his face flushed, but his eyes sparkled with the high of it all. She threw her arms around him, feeling a surge of pride she hadn’t expected.

“That was incredible,” she said, still breathless from the excitement. “I didn’t know racing could feel like that.”

He grinned, a little bashful. “It’s different when you’re here, right?”

They spent the rest of the evening wandering through the emptying paddock, the buzz of the race still lingering in the air around them. As they walked, she told him about her own competitions—the nervous energy that would settle over her before she stepped onto the ice, the strange kind of stillness that would take over the rink just before she launched into her first jump.

And for a moment, they were just two kids from Sagamihara again, two dreamers who’d spent their lives working tirelessly toward something that felt bigger than themselves.

She looked over at him, her heart warming at the honesty in his expression. “I get that. I always felt the same way about skating. But I think… I think it makes a difference, knowing someone else understands it.”

They found a quiet spot near the track, sitting on a low wall overlooking the grandstands. The stadium lights cast long shadows over the empty space, and for a while, they just sat there, letting the silence fill the spaces between them. It was a kind of peace they hadn’t realized they’d been looking for.

“You know,” YN said, her voice soft, “when I was younger, I always wondered what it’d be like to actually talk to you. To know you, beyond just passing each other on the way to practice.”

Yuki looked over at her, his gaze steady. “Guess we’re finally getting that chance now.”

They sat in silence again, a comfortable warmth settling between them. And in that moment, with the empty track stretching out before them, they both felt it—the quiet realization that they’d found something here, something that had always been there, waiting for them to finally catch up.

As they sat there, Yuki reached out, a small, tentative movement that spoke volumes. She took his hand without hesitation, their fingers lacing together easily, naturally. It was a small gesture, one that felt both familiar and thrillingly new, like finding home in a place they’d both thought they’d left behind.

And in that quiet, empty paddock, with the echoes of the race still hanging in the air, they found a kind of peace they hadn’t known they were looking for—a sense that, no matter where their paths led, they’d always be able to find each other, side by side.

By now, Yuki and YN were inseparable, no matter how many miles lay between them. It was a connection that felt both effortless and profound, the sort of bond that didn’t need big declarations or elaborate plans to make sense. They’d found something in each other that went beyond their childhood familiarity and beyond the worlds of figure skating and racing—something that was uniquely theirs, a relationship that had grown quietly and steadily, almost as if it had been waiting for them all along.

Anyone who spent time with them could see it. Fans had a field day piecing together every time YN was spotted near a racetrack or every time Yuki happened to be in the audience at one of her competitions. There were moments when fans speculated wildly, building romantic theories out of mere glimpses, but Yuki and YN never fed into it. For them, what they had was too precious to make a spectacle of; this was theirs alone, and they were happy to keep it that way.

Friends and family saw it too, though their reaction was less of a surprise and more of a quiet understanding. For years, everyone who knew them had seen that glimmer of connection, the kind that didn’t fade with distance or time. Their friends laughed about it sometimes, joking that Sagamihara must have woven their destinies together before they even knew it themselves.

Even other drivers, those who saw Yuki at his best and his most vulnerable, couldn’t miss the subtle shift in him. There was a calmness to him now, a steadiness that came from having someone who understood the cost of his world, someone who’d been chasing dreams just as big. In the garage, Yuki would occasionally have a little grin on his face as he read a text, or he’d walk into the paddock with a quiet happiness that his team members hadn’t seen before.

“You’re different these days, you know?” one of the drivers remarked one afternoon, a teasing smile on his face as they sat together after a race. “You’ve got that… settled look. Like someone who finally knows where he’s going.”

Yuki didn’t deny it. Instead, he just shrugged with a slight smile. “Guess I do.”

And then, there were moments when they found themselves together in the same place, and it felt like the whole world disappeared. No matter how loud the roar of the crowd or how many people surrounded them, they had this ability to turn everything else into background noise.

One weekend, after one of Yuki’s races, they found themselves in a quiet corner of the paddock, hidden away from the bustling crowds. They had little moments like these, stolen pockets of time when the rest of the world felt a million miles away. YN leaned against the wall, watching Yuki as he recounted moments from the race, his eyes bright with excitement. She knew she’d never tire of seeing him like this, his passion shining through every word.

“It’s funny,” she said, smiling as he paused to catch his breath. “When we were kids, I’d see you after a long practice, and you’d look just as exhausted but never as happy.”

“Back then, we were both just pushing, you know?” he replied, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. “We were both fighting so hard to get somewhere, to make something of ourselves. I think we both forgot it could be this… good.”

She nodded, understanding completely. There was something different now—a balance, a kind of peace that came from knowing they’d reached the places they’d fought for, and that they had someone to share it with.

He reached out, his fingers finding hers, lacing together in a way that had come to feel so natural. “Do you ever think about how many times we must have passed each other? Back in Sagamihara, at the train station, or even just walking down the street?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly, a smile playing at her lips. “It’s like we were both so focused on our own paths that we didn’t even realize we were following the same one.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the moment, their hands still intertwined. There was a quiet magic to these moments that no audience could ever see, a depth of understanding that went beyond words. In each other, they’d found a quiet kind of solace, a shared understanding that had blossomed into something more, something as vast and unshakable as the dreams they’d chased all their lives.

When she finally had to return to Tokyo, they shared a hug that lingered a little longer than usual, the unspoken promises between them clear. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, his voice soft but sure.

“Soon,” she echoed, knowing that, wherever they were in the world, they’d always have this unbreakable thread tying them back to each other.

As she walked away, he stood there for a moment, watching her go, a feeling of certainty settling over him. What they had was beyond the limitations of time zones and stadiums. It was something far bigger than Sagamihara, beyond racing circuits and skating rinks. It was something timeless, something that was just theirs, waiting patiently for them all these years.

And as Yuki turned to head back to the track, a quiet smile on his face, he knew that whatever twists and turns lay ahead, he’d always have this piece of home with him—something that had started long ago, on quiet mornings and late nights in Sagamihara, and had grown into something far more beautiful than he’d ever expected.

[halfwayhearted]

Something Changed — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Thinking he’d ruin your night... he did the opposite.

Word Count: 635+

Disclaimer/s — Weirdo ex, banter-ish relationship, that’s it (?).

A/N: I don’t know where I was even going with this

Everything was making you uncomfortable, from the second you stepped out of the house to when you arrived at your friend’s house for a small house party. Except, it wasn’t small. Not at all.

It didn’t make it better that Gavi was also invited. You didn’t hate him per se—you… you don’t know.

He hadn’t bothered you yet. But knowing him, and knowing your friends, unfortunately, you knew that time would, in fact, be coming soon.

And it seemed ‘soon’ would be now, when you felt the couch beside you dip under the man’s weight.

However, it wasn’t him. In all honesty, you wished it was him. Instead, anger coursed through your veins at the sight of your ex-boyfriend sitting next to you. You swallowed hard, “What do you want?”

“Hey,” he hums, his face smug. “Wanted to talk.”

Was he serious? Why was he even here? Standing up from your seat, you grabbed your belongings and said, “Uh-huh. Not in the mood. I’m leaving.”

“Oh, come on!” The man—better yet, boy with how he acted—groans, standing up with you. “It’s been months. Don’t tell me you’re still stuck on what happened between us. It meant—”

“It meant nothing?” You interjected, your voice was flat. Fists clenched at your sides. You couldn’t, and probably wouldn’t, notice, but Gavi was watching intently from across the room.

He wasn’t even sure why your ex was there in the first place. The minute he sat down beside you, he was ready to stride over, but he knew where he stood. So... he stayed rooted in his spot.

“Yes! It didn’t mean anything. If you’d just let me fucking explain then you’d be able to see that.”

Though, the second he saw your ex take a step toward you, he crossed the room and was at your side in an instant, his hand hovering over your bicep like he wasn’t sure if you’d want him to fully rest it there. “Did you need something?”

His expression falters at the sight of Gavi next to you, making him clench his jaw and shake his head. “No, nothing at all. We’re all good.” And with one last, lingering glance, he walks away.

You didn’t know it’d be that easy. What the hell?

“Pablo—” you started, your mouth clamping shut when you saw him open his own to speak.

“I’m sorry. You seemed like you didn’t want him anywhere near you so I intervened. I know you’re going to say you could’ve handled it but I—”

Shaking your head, you lift your hands and gently grasp his forearms. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

You weren’t? Oh, okay. You weren’t… right, right.

“Thank you. I really didn’t want to speak to him and, as much as I hate to admit, I appreciated that a lot. More than you think. So… thank you.”

“You’re thanking me?” He responded, tilting his head. The smirk on his face grew the second he saw your lips part and your face redden. “Huh.”

He isn’t real. “Are you actually trying to ruin this moment?” You drawl. “I’m done. You can leave.”

A laugh escapes his lips as he drops his head. “I’m kidding! You’re welcome. I hope you know I’d do it again, even if I know you can handle it.”

“Yeah? Well… I hope you know I wouldn’t mind.”

“You wouldn’t mind? At all?”

You were really pushing it. “At all,” you confirmed.

That’s when something flickered in Gavi’s eyes, something you couldn’t quite decipher but wished you could. You’re even more surprised when his hand grazes the arm that’s still holding his. His voice is low but loud enough for you to hear, “Would you like to get a drink with me?”

“What, already?” You teased softly, “Yes, I would.”

Perhaps this night wouldn’t end how you thought.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @gadriezmannsgirl ! ౨ৎ

[yandere-yearnings]

Contract-Bound Death (Yandere!Actor x GN!Reader)

feat. Viorel Dalca

♡ pt.0, approx. 1k words | next.

♡ post-specific warnings: (off-screen) murder, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, the entertainment industry, dark themes, implied use of contracts as a threat | series warnings: yandere themes, the entertainment industry, reader has a guilt complex

♡ a/n: we're pretending it's still 'around the end of october' so i'm not a liar. this is purely a work of fiction. yandere behaviour in real life is a cause of concern. unedited, not proofread.

♡♡♡

It’s the middle of the night, and the floors are still stained with blood when you arrive. Thin smears across marble, flaking up when the wheels of your suitcase roll over them. You'd convince yourself it was just rust that had formed over time, but the lie would die too easy for you to try. After all, now you were working for the devil — and who would he be without murder to his name?

You see him for the first time under the low lights, chandeliers casting dim orange overhead. The Vio before you looks so very different from the one you'd watched from the other side of your screen. Lacking his trademark blue, blonde to the roots and rolling over, wearing white as blank as the look he shot you, brow raised into a pinched arch. You tell yourself that his disdain is only so palpable because he's been through these exact motions a million times before. You tell yourself that it's only natural. 

His attention shifts quickly, back to his script and the lines highlighted in electric teal. It's at this point you realise he isn't going to give you the time of day, that he won't even consider it. All the training leading up to this moment has whittled away your hopes, and finally, they've diminished. Wiping away cold sweat for the promise of six figures lying somewhere in your future, praying that if you didn't last the week, you'd at least be fired instead of killed. 

Unlike the last man in your shoes.

The lump in your throat is firm where it lodges itself; you swallow once, twice and give up. Dry lips parting so you can speak, hoarsely. “Hey.” Already, the nerves have made formality slip your mind. “I'll be working with you from now on. Your new manager.”

Vio scoffs and flicks a page. you think you notice him glare. “Hey,” he mimics, “it’s been a minute and I already can't stand you.”

Wincing at the harshness and deciding that now isn’t the time — that there would likely never be one since the rumours about him had proven to hold — you steal away. Thankfully, Vio doesn’t give you a harder time for it. You suppose he wanted you out of sight, so he wouldn’t.

At least you had your room to look forward to. Back in the winding hallways that this job forced home to you, all your life packed up in the little fabric box that trundled on behind. These white walls made everything seem like they stretched on forever, made you feel awfully alone. A wide world you’d stepped foot on, it was funny how you had been so ready only to get lost so soon.

Tomorrow’s schedule was an early start, high rise at the break of dawn so the light felt more natural on camera. Vio was shooting a solo scene. He’d be the only actor on set. Somehow that did nothing to calm your nerves. Somehow it made them worse. Up velvet steps, your footprints pressed their marks. The choice of colour made you remember something that a producer had said to you before this: that scarlet covered scarlet well. Your stomach churned.

On the ceiling of the top-most storey, there was a brown door nestled in the far corner. You stopped and stared at it for a long while, at the string that dangled down, worn and frayed and used time and time again by different hands. Yours would be the next to pull it, and maybe you didn’t want to anymore. Over your shoulder, there was the winding staircase that you’d just traveled, leading back down to the entrance. The sight drew a sigh from you, it was choked and wet because no matter how much you were beginning to regret this all — you’d signed your life away. That entryway could never be an exit to you.

So you turned your back to it.

Pulling down and unfolding the steps didn’t take much effort, yet the hinges seemed strong. You hauled your luggage up first before you followed, just to stall a second more. Surprisingly, the attic was unlike the rest of the mansion. A largely wooden interior gave it character, and strung fairy lights around potted plants made it feel warm. For a single moment, you found your breath taken in a better way than it had been all week, and then it filled back into your lungs entirely cold because there was something you’d almost forgotten. A dead man had lived here before you.

The way the image kept haunting you, you were starting to convince yourself that it must’ve been your hands that wrapped around his throat and strangled the glimmer from his eyes. They never did, though. It was Vio who took his life. You’d watched it happen from a ways away, but it had still been in front of you. You’re not sure what you had been expecting after that, things were too late; before you could even breathe a word there were papers being held to your neck like knives and they all had your name on them. 

As you shut yourself in and sat there, in the glow you’d been greeted by and that had started to flicker, you finally broke. Your tears were hot but that didn’t make them any comfort. You were scared. Everywhere you turned you were met with the dead looks of people who had seen it all again and again and again. Unable to understand how you were the outlier in this normality. Terrified that Vio didn’t seem even the slightest bit remorseful. Terrified that you’d get used to it. 

World spinning, all a blur on your heavy bones. Fatigue settled and inside you knot after knot tied. You felt heavy, like you’d been flooded entirely in water. No matter how much you cried, the sensation did not ebb. Perhaps your guilt remained to save you. Perhaps it endured, on your mind as the last thing, so that you were still human when you woke up come morning.

[unhingedangstaddict]

Currently working on my own fix-it fic but man this shit is harder than I thought it'd be- I keep crying and then getting distracted reading other fix-it fics. Thought I'd share this snippet to hopefully motivate myself to keep going???

Hen was starting to wonder if maybe Tommy was out for a run when she heard a faint ‘oh shit’ from inside the house. She banged on the door again. “Come on Kinard! I know you’re in there!” She called out. If Tommy’s neighbors thought she was crazy, oh well, too bad. Hen really didn’t care.

Finally the door was opened by Tommy. His hair was a mess- sticking up as though he’d been running his hands through it far too much-, he had deep dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, his eyes were puffy from crying, and frankly, he looked like shit. “What do you want, Hen?” Tommy rasped. Whether his voice was hoarse due to dehydration or yelling and/or crying was unclear.

“To talk about what happened last night.” Hen crossed her arms.

“You mean you’re here to yell at me for what I did?" Tommy guessed. He hadn't forgotten the thinly veiled shovel talk from Hen and Karen months back at the medal ceremony- he wasn't surprised Hen was here now. “Trust me I hate myself for it enough. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought about myself.”

“No. I’m here to try and understand what even happened. According to Eddie, Buck wasn’t making very much sense last night. Eddie would’ve come himself to check on you but he’s got Buck right now. Eddie’s worried about you and frankly, I am too.”

Tommy sighed deeply and stepped aside to let Hen into the house.

Soon they were sitting at Tommy’s kitchen table with mugs of coffee in hand.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened or are you just gonna keep having that staring contest with your coffee?” Hen questioned.

“He asked me to move in with him.” Tommy admitted quietly.

“Okay,” Hen said slowly, waiting for Tommy to explain further why he was upset by it. Beyond the obvious matter of Buck leasing his loft apartment and Tommy owning his house, Hen wasn’t sure what the issue was.

“For a split second, I thought about saying yes.” Tommy confessed. “Then I returned to reality and realized I had to end it.”

“But why?” Hen questioned.

“Even if it was only for a second, Hen, I was ready to, what? Sell my house and more than half my stuff to move in with him? I’m not even mad about that part- I’m upset with myself for considering it. I’ve been in Evan’s position before, first gay relationship, lovesick, you think it’s gonna last forever. And I’ve been the first for guys before too. Like I told Evan last night, I know how it ends. And I guess I’d rather break my own heart than wait around for Evan to do it.”

“If you’ve been so sure all this time that it could never work, why did it take until now for you to call things off?” Hen questioned.

“I think from the start I knew I was playing with fire. After the last guy I was a first for, I told myself I wasn’t going to do it anymore. Then I met Evan, and he was just so magnetic, I couldn’t stay away even if I wanted to. I couldn't say no to him. I think I always knew my heart would get broken, and I guess I was okay with that all this time, until last night when I realized I love him, and I knew I had to cut myself off before I reached a point of no return.” Tommy explained. “I mean, I’m a fucking a mess right now and I was the one who called it off. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to survive him ending it.”

“Did you really just figure out last night that you love him?” Hen asked.

“I guess I sorta loved him from the start but last night was different, Hen. I’m in love with him, like well and truly love him, in a way I’ve never felt before, about anyone.” Tears filled Tommy’s eyes. “And I’m just his first. And as badly as I want it, I know I don’t get to be his last.”

“What makes you so sure you can’t be his last?” Hen wondered.

“Because I’m not the forever guy." Tommy shrugged slightly as a tear finally escaped and slid down his cheek. "At best I’m the close-to-but-never-quite-enough guy."

[lau219]

How would the boys react to reader sexting then during work?

Boys : Cillian, Modern Tommy, Emmett, Robert, and Jonathan

So, I went into way more detail with this than you were likely expecting, @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction , so the answers are below the cut. 🤪💗😁

Cillian: If it’s the first time you’ve ever sexted him, he’d initially be pretty surprised, as he didn’t expect you to be so bold and forthcoming as to sext him. He’s very aroused and intrigued to see how far you’ll take it, and he encourages you with words of praise and sexy responses of his own as the two of you go back and forth, working each other up. When he eventually gets home, Cillian abandons anything else as he comes up behind you, pinning you against the counter as he presses his bulge into your ass as he speaks lowly in your ear.

“So, about those messages from earlier…I think we need to finish what you started, don’t you?”

Then, two words: wall sex

Modern Tommy: Absolutely loves it and immediately responds. He wastes no time on subtle innuendo, instead immediately going into graphic detail of exactly what he’s going to do to you and what he expects you to do to him. He delivers the dom talk and sexy threats throughout your entire exchange and warns you what you’re getting yourself into as you keep messaging. When he finally gets home, you know he’s arrived from hearing the slam of the door, and Tommy quickly discards his coat and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder without a word and carrying you to the bedroom to act out every single text, and he’s not stopping until he has you screaming his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

Emmett: 110% into it and immediately replies with dirty messages of his own. Countless naughty images run through his head as you two go back and forth. Emmett loves to tease you, and he alternates between telling you how he’s going to make you melt and threatening not to give you what you want. You do the same back to him, switching between telling him just how naughty you’ll be for him and pretending to lose interest by acting nonchalant. You get each other heavily worked up to the point that he leaves work with a raging hard on and comes home to drag you upstairs and then proceeds to give you each what you need, but not without teasing you more first and keeping you just on the edge until you’re begging him to let you finish.

Robert: Initially, he’s shocked, incredibly turned on but also extremely flustered. Truthfully, he’s had numerous fantasies about the two of you introducing dirty talk, but he’s always been hesitant to broach the subject, feeling self-conscious and also not knowing how you’d react. When you send him a message telling him how badly you want him and that you’re touching yourself to thoughts of him, he doesn’t know how to respond at first, but eventually, he gets the nerve. He tells you he wants details, wanting you to elaborate on exactly what you’re doing to yourself and what you’re thinking about. Soon, his reserve is gone as you two keep exchanging dirty thought after dirty thought, and tells you he wants you ready for him when he gets home. When he arrives, he finds you waiting on the bed for him in the skimpiest lingerie he’s ever seen you in, and he immediately climbs over you on the bed, the two of you proceeding to have the hottest sex you’ve had yet.

Jonathan: While admittedly aroused by your messages, Jonathan doesn’t give you much back, as he doesn’t really see the point if the two of you can’t immediately act on it. When it comes to sex, he’s much more keen on actually delivering on the act rather than talk about it when you’re apart. He’d prefer to wait until you’re together again to get each other worked up. But once he’s home and he has you how he wants you, that’s when the words start flowing, as he describes every single thing about you that he finds beautiful and exactly how he wants to take you. For you, it’s almost too much when you’re face to face as he talks in that smooth, collected tone and keeps his eyes focused only on you. He gently torments you as he sees you’re much less bold now that you’re together, and he smiles to himself as he calmly removes your clothes.

“Suddenly at a loss for words now, are you?” he says as he has you on your back and slowly slips inside you. “Well, let’s see if you’re at least still capable of moaning.”

[justwinginglife]

Blind in Love

Dedicated to @mangostarjam, you convinced me to finish the WIP since you asked about it lmao so thanks!

It had been awhile since you’d had good sex and even longer since you’d had a good date. 

Which was why, when your friend yammered to you -on a daily basis- about the new friend she’d made and how he was your perfect match, you allowed her to set up a blind date between the two of you even though you were still recovering from the first serious relationship you’d ever had ending. But you’d spent more than enough time mourning the past and you were ready to get back out there. If your date ended up being a serial killer, so be it; at least you’d die knowing you tried to have some semblance of a love life again.

At first, you almost didn’t get the date with him at all.

Your friend would tell you how kind the man was, how attentive the man was, how loyal the man was, and you were already sold from her first description. But she kept selling him to you anyway. The days would go by and she’d tell you he liked the same music you did. She’d tell you he was raised in the same area that you grew up in. She’d tell you that he liked the same foods you did. She’d tell you that he was a night owl like you. She’d tell you he liked the same TV shows. She’d tell you he had the same hobbies. She’d tell you he’d vacationed to the same places you had. She’d tell you so many details about him that it felt like you were going on a date with yourself. So you knew you had to meet this guy, you just had to. 

And then one day, she told you it was most likely not going to happen. 

How? How could the most perfect sounding man in the entire world not even want to meet you? Had she told him what she’d told you? Did he know you were practically soulmates? How were you supposed to hear about him everyday, to know all these things about him like he was suddenly your closest friend, only to never meet him, only to be rejected by him before he ever crossed paths with you?

This couldn’t be how things ended. 

But your friend was persistent. Thank god she was persistent. As much as she had promoted him to you, she doubly promoted you to him, and soon enough, she was giving you the good news that he had eventually agreed to go out on a date with you. He had even gone so far as to pick the time and the venue, so she had high expectations for the night. 

You had high expectations for the night.

You tried not to. You didn’t imagine there was anyone for you who could ever be as good as your first love, but if there wasn’t, it wouldn’t be for a lack of you trying to find them. You owed it to yourself, to your friend, to him, to give this date a good try. So even though you tried not to get all worked up over one simple date, you got excited anyway. You dressed up to the nines. 

When you showed up to the address that you’d been instructed to meet him at, you were shocked to discover you’d been here before, years ago. It was a cherry blossom garden. A cherry blossom garden that was usually extremely busy and yet somehow it was now completely deserted. And… lit up? You didn’t remember there being so many lanterns everywhere the last time you’d come here. 

Following the trails of lanterns, you found a man in a suit waiting for you at the end. He was down on one knee. Holding a ring box.

“I love you. I love you so, so much. Please, please marry me.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No.”

“But why?”

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I’m not going on a blind date. I’m not going on any date. Never again.” Hoshina waved his persistent friend away, thinking his resolve might end any further arguments. It only strengthened her resolve. 

She followed him down the long expanse of hallway, and boy, did he realize just how long it was as she prattled on and on. “But did I tell you she also grew up in the same neighborhood as you?”

He groaned. “Yes. Yes, you did. Doesn’t change a thing.”

“But did I tell you she hikes? You could go hiking together.”

“I don’t want to go hiking with anyone.”

“But did I tell you she cooks, and get this, she cooks your favorite foods. It’s honestly crazy how your favorite foods are like somehow what she specializes in. That’s gotta be some sign, right?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really, I appreciate you trying, but nothing you say is going to make me change my mind about this.”

“Okay, okay, one more thing. You remember that, like, weird vintage medallion thing you have on your nightstand?”

He froze in his tracks. “...What about it?”

“You remember how you told me that they only ever made two of those medallions and you won it at some event? Get this- she has the other half of the set. She also won it at the same event. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.” 

He quickly turned around and started making his way back to his room. 

She watched him curiously, keeping pace with him as his pace increased. He was almost like a man on a mission the way he sped down the hall. She was sure he’d burn tracks into the floor with the way he was walking. 

“Can she see me tomorrow night?” He asked finally.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, wondering what on earth could’ve made him change his mind, and so quickly at that. But after all this begging and pleading with him to reconsider the date, she wouldn’t dare question his sudden change in heart. 

“Yeah, of course she can. She’s been waiting for you to say yes forever. I’ll text her. Do you guys wanna meet up at that restaur-”

“I’ll pick the place. I know the perfect spot.”

She blinked a couple times. What was going on with Hoshina today? Not only was he actually agreeing to go on this blind date when he’d been vehemently rejecting it these past few weeks, but now he was taking the initiative to plan the date himself? Something had to be going on. But she was too afraid to ask what, too afraid it would weaken his nerve. So she simply nodded and said, “Alright, good luck. I’ll let her know when you’re ready.” Then she vanished down the hallway, too stunned to speak any further. 

When he reached his room, Hoshina tossed out half his closet trying to figure out what to wear. What was one supposed to wear to propose to the love of his life that he hadn’t seen in years? What was one supposed to say?

He quickly called up the managers of the cherry blossom garden that he’d taken you to on your first date together and he bought out the entire place for tomorrow night. He didn’t want anyone walking in and ruining the only chance he might have with you. 

He took out the ring box he’d been holding onto these last several years and set it out on his nightstand, right beside the medallion that he’d won with you. Then he fell asleep dreaming about your smile. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I love you. I love you so, so much. Please, please marry me.”

Suddenly everything made sense.

Of course he liked the same shows you did. You always made him watch it with you. Of course he was a night owl, you stayed up late together watching those shows. Of course he liked the same hobbies, the same food, the same music, you lived together, it was hard not to pick up the same routines, to pick up the same interests. And all those places your friend had told you he’d visited that you’d also visited? You’d gone on vacation together. 

You’d done everything together. 

Until you didn’t. Until you broke up. 

But now here he was before you, and without even wasting a second to say hi it’s me again, he was already down on one knee proposing with a ring you told him you liked once in passing. 

At first you wondered why he was here, after so many weeks of declining to proceed with this date. Had he known it was you all along? Was that why he’d said no? But then why was he here? And with a ring no less? What was going on? What made him change his mind?

But suddenly you didn’t care. You didn’t care at all. You didn’t care about the how or the why or the what. You just cared about him. You just cared that the man that you loved, that the only man that you’d ever loved, that the only man you ever wanted to love, was kneeling before you, saying he loved you, saying he still loved you, saying he’d always loved you and always would love you. And he wanted to marry you.

“Yes.”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @inkytypewriter @ouiouimochi

[shuaboo]

thinking of… silly bf gunwook with his cutie purple hair being HUNG🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲 SPREADING THE PARK HUNGWOOK AGENDA!!!!!!!!!

mdni nsfw under the cut

it is no secret to the world that your boyfriend park gunwook is the cutest boy in the world. he’s so kind, smart, loving, and funny. he’s always got that cute vibrant grin on his face that matches all too well with his bright purple hair.

of course… even in bed he’s such a gentleman. always asking if you’re okay, making sure you feel good, always touching your body in all the right places.

what you didn’t expect was for him to be so big. call him park hungwook the way this man has such a stupidly big dick, and he doesn’t even know how to make use of it.

the first time you and gunwook ever had sex, it was very intimate. gunwook peppered your body with kisses and left marks on you, took care of you so well, even ate you out so you were wet n ready for him. as soon aa he felt like you were ready to take him, he needily removed his boxers. safe to say that when his rock hard dick slapped onto his stomach, your jaw dropped. i mean… i don’t blame you? no one would expect such a monster to be hiding beneath his adorable personality.

i feel like he’d have a cock that’s maybe 7-7.5 in long when its hard, reddish tip but the base itself pretty much matches his skintone. a long vein around the left side of it, and you can feel it when it enters you. i think he definitely keeps that area clean and bald, except his balls he’s kinda scared lol.

gunwook, after finally making sure you are fully prepped for him finally takes off his pants and underwear. he lets out a groan when his dick slaps his stomach as it escapes the confinements of his underwear. you are looking at his thick, girthy length, practically drooling at his size. “damn baby… i didn’t know you were hiding all that. is that why you act like such a cutie all the time? because you’re hiding this? hm?” gunwook only whines and tries to cover his length with his hand. (not effective btw hes too fucking big) you are quicker though, beating him to it by putting your own hands on his dick.

“fuck.. look at your pretty leaking cock baby.. all for me, right?” you say as you rub the reddish leaking tip, smiling at him. “y-yeah.. all f-f’you— ngh, f-fuck.” you giggle at his response, amused at how sensitive he is to your touch. you let go of his cock and position yourself in his lap, grinding yourself onto him before slowly sinking down.

“seems like you don’t really know how to make use of this… so i’ll use you however i want, m’kay?” you say before sinking down on him.

tbh his purple hair played no part in this but i miss grapewook so bad

[lightlycareless]

Another oneshot (?) we've been all waiting for. The sequel to this piece over here :> Ah, you don't know how long I've been waiting for this. I hope you enjoy it!!!

Warnings: mentions of unaliving you. (explained in the first part) Naoya is insecure about himself, but loves you greatly. mentions of pregnancy. yep, you're pregnant and happily married :) slight mentions of nsfw activities. minimal proofreading I think?

Happy reading!!

Why did it have to be him?

Of all people that could’ve been chosen from to follow through with this lead, of all willing candidates who were more than ready to seize the glory the completion of this mission would provide…

Why did they choose him?

Was it because he was the one that discovered said lead? Or how deep it actually ran? Just enough to affect not only his fellow sorcerers, but civilians as well?

It sounded like an excuse, not even a good one at that, to keep him promptly occupied and away from his true, and only priority; the reason why he started this sting operation in the first place.

Yet, as much as he wanted to escape, he remained behind because there was some truth to be found behind their words: no one else knew the gravity of the situation better than him. There was no other that experienced so closely what it was to almost lose someone dear to him, and such, the importance to put an end to all of this.

Working every single day and night, Naoya was eventually able to catch the head of this whole mafia and bring them to justice—only then, was he able to return home to you, his pregnant and inconsolable wife which could barely express her feelings outside of a tight hug, fearing he’ll disappear if she let’s go, and quiet sobs, wishing he’d never leave again.

“Naoya” you breathe, taking in his scent, his warmth, his everything you’ve been cruelly deprived of for months. “Naoya, ple—please, don’t leave me again…”

“I won’t—” And your husband was eager to promise you so, having long decided that missions are temporarily suspended until he decides otherwise—

But the moment his arms embrace you back, the first time in what felt like eons for him… he’s welcomed by a horrifying revelation, a sensation he perhaps wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t disappeared.

Your stomach was bigger, more prominent; he had to stretch his arms a little more in order to completely fit you—

Undermining the length of his absence, earnestly reassuring himself on his way back that he hadn’t been away from you for long, that he hadn’t missed much of your kisses or giggles… or his child’s growth.

But obviously, he had. It was plain to see.

And he had missed all of it because of that stupid mission that didn’t even pay him that well...

Naoya began to distance himself from you soon after.

You didn’t think much of it at first, naively believing he was just… trying to readjust back into his previous home life, break away from being constantly on his toes and simply relax. It was only a matter of time before Naoya returned to the same loving, albeit teasing, husband you knew and loved!

God knows you went through the same thing when returning to the Zen’in estate, which you never believed would happen considering how everything transpired after your supposed allergy.

In fact, everything about it was… confusing, for a lack of better wording. From the swiftness in which you were transferred to your clan’s home, to how you were received back by an entirely different staff…

A part of you swore it wasn’t a simple allergy—

Nonetheless, you trusted Naoya, knew how he was too. Prone to overreacting at the smallest mention of danger, a side of him that only worsened upon learning of your pregnancy.

In these matters, sometimes silence was the best path to take. More so if it meant a happy marriage, a happier life, in return.

At least that’s what you wished to believe, because no amount of compromise seemed to put things back in place, not even after days of his return, nor how much you desired it to.

Something just… didn’t sit right with him. The short answers, his quick glances, to even keeping distance between the two when sharing the same bed…!

There was something undeniably wrong with your husband, but you were not to give up anytime soon. Even when these little things began to chip away at your poor dismayed heart, you still found it in yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt.

«He just needs a little push» you conclude. «A reminder of what he missed, and he’ll be back on track»

And thankfully, you knew exactly what to do.

With a light robe that left nothing to the imagination, you’d wait for him in your shared chambers, patiently sitting by the futon to when he eventually crosses the door, eyes wide as Naoya took in your form, breath hitching to his throat the moment the garment fell to your sides, enough provocation for him to move closer, finally within your hands grasp.

“Naoya.” You softly cooed, fingers carefully tracing the edges of his hakama, which you soon began to undo. “My love.”

He’s always found it amusing how easily he succumbed to your charms: just two words while batting your eyes and he was putty in your hands.

“I missed you.” You cooed, pouring honey into his ears as you continued to undress him; Naoya did nothing to stop his robes from falling beside him—too entranced to care about anything else but you, and the heat settling underneath your touch. “You don’t know how lonely I’ve been without you…”

You’d then place a trail of kisses, beginning from his ear down to his cheek and then, his lips, where he’d cautiously return the gestures, almost as if he were afraid of hurting you.

But as much as you wished he’d be a bit more assertive; you do not press him—if anything, his reaction makes your heart tighten, urging you to spoil him even further, which you do by softly intertwining your hands with his, pulling them up to your sensitive breasts and resting them there.

“Without your touch… without your warmth” You murmur, gently squeezing him against you before sliding his hands down your sides… “No matter how much I tried… nothing compares to you.”

Onto your rounded stomach, to the soft skin protecting his unborn child—a son or daughter made from your overflowing love, fated to represent such union by either resembling their father or you; Naoya secretly hopes they take after you, both physically and in personality.

And you… well, a little prince that looked just like your husband simply made the wait unbearable.

But regardless of the outcome, both knew they’d love them either way.

“Please.” You breathe against his lips, palm gently rubbing against his growing desire. “I need you.”

But even your longing couldn’t contend against Naoya’s uncertainty, for the moment his fingers graced your belly, he was sourly reminded of the revelation that has haunted him since his return, fated to haunt you too when he immediately retracted.

And way he looked at you, at your child, almost as if he were frightened, if not disgusted… is one that permanently imprints on the back of your mind; destroying any last hope you had for this sweet moment, and subsequently, your heart with the following questioning.

“Did I… Did I do something?” you quietly ponder, hands trembling as you struggled whether to keep looking at Naoya, or glance away. You didn’t know anymore…

Only that it hurt.

“No, it’s… it’s not you.” He responds, probably the largest sentence you’ve gotten out of him since his return; and the answer that made your assumptions worsen.

“Then is—is it—is it the baby?” you fret, feeling whatever remained of your heart break. “Do you—Do you not want the baby anymore?”

“What?” Naoya’s eyes widen, perplexed by the accusation. “What did you just say?”

It was outrageous, uncalled for considering all what he did and for who did it.

But to you, who was kept in the dark throughout the entirety of his absence, alongside his shockingly different behavior, your mind could only point you onto one direction:

In his time away, back on the field and for a long time just like he did before the two married… did he suddenly realize how restricting a baby would be on his life? On his career? Perhaps acknowledge that this is not something he was willing to sacrifice?

Or did he—

Did he conclude you were not the right person to share this experience with? Someone out there far more suitable than you?

Naoya didn’t need to read minds to know exactly what was going on through your thoughts, nor to be reminded of what he must to ensure your happiness, which he had selfishly stripped you away from—once again…

“I would put down my life just to keep you and our child safe.” Naoya says, moving to take your hands with his as a gesture to put all this behind, but when you flinch away in return, he’s given a taste of what you’ve silently endured since his return. “Y/N—”

“Your—your words don’t go with what you—with what you’ve done.” You quietly retort, struggling with the cluster of emotions his actions provided: from embarrassment, to sadness, ending in anger… and yet, you still loved him. “How can you say that when you’ve—when you’ve done nothing but reject me?”

Once again Naoya wishes to immediately refute your worries, but he knew well it would prove your claim, do the very same thing he swore to prevent.

Seems that all this time he spent trying to protect you was for naught, for he’d come straight home to hurt you instead.

“Have I… Have I become… undesirable to you, because of this?” Given the way he glanced away whenever coming near him, what else were you supposed to think?

“Y/N.” Naoya persists, cupping your face and forcing you to look at him—your eyes reflecting straight back at him how consistently stupid he had been with you.

Yes, the pain he felt for not being there with you through this very important time of their marriage is very valid—no one said otherwise.

But had he even considered how infinitely worse it had been for you? You were the one carrying his child, dealing with all that pertained to a pregnancy: hormones, pains, fears and insecurities… with the addition of just what you needed: his second thoughts.

Could anyone blame you for assuming such things?

“Wh—what?” you respond, frowning.

“I haven’t been truthful to you.” Naoya begins. “In fact, I don’t think I have been at all.”

“You think?” you accuse, he swallows.

“I know.” Naoya corrects. “I know I haven’t been honest with anything. From my absence to my behavior towards you, the least you deserve is the truth.”

“…Is there someone else?” you quickly interrupt. “Just tell me if—”

“No, never. I love you too much to ever look at someone else and you know that.”

You look away, afflicted to have even considered such a horrible thing, as if he hadn’t proved so countless times.

“Then… what is it?” you murmur. “What have I done to make you act this way?”

“Nothing.” He responds. “You didn’t do nothing at all.”

It was only the passage of time that earned you such reckless reaction, marking you responsible for something you had no influence over.

His baby was to continue grow inside you regardless of if he was there to see it or not. And in a way, he should be happy this was the way things were occurring: It meant that your pregnancy was a healthy one, the only thing he desired for you and the baby at the end of the day!

But he allowed his emotions to get the best of him and now, made you victim of his consequences.

He could see it in the way you didn’t believe his words, your eyes looking at him but void of the adoration and devotion you always blessed him with.

Naoya feels undoubtedly foolish. The only one undeserving here was him.

“You never had an allergy reaction. Not even close. The reason why I asked you to stay with your dad was because...” Naoya stops. “Was because there was an—an attempt on your life. Someone thought they’d be able to hurt you and walk away without consequences. I made sure he knew otherwise.

And… I kept it a secret because I thought it would be best for you. I thought that by doing so I’d be protecting you… but it seems I only ended up hurting you instead.

I wasn’t supposed to keep this long away from you either. But what I once thought a quick mission turned out to be a whole operation; and since I was the one who found out everything, I was also responsible to seeing the end of it.”

Naoya hopes that by explaining this you’d be able to… well, maybe not forgive him at the moment, but at least look at him with that glint in your eye that made his heart quicken every time. A step closer to his redemption…

And not be shocked by your following words!

“I already knew all that! But it still doesn’t explain why you’re acting this way with me.”

“You—you knew? How?” Naoya thought he ordered all those around you to keep this situation under complete secrecy, even threatened to retaliate if not.

But what surprised him the most wasn’t the breach of his trust, but rather… your knowledge and composure of the matter, as if you hadn’t been the target all along.

“My staff told me.” You confessed. More precisely, Haruko, whom at the sight of your disheartened façade at your husband’s prolonged absence just had to tell you the truth.

With Mariya’s subsequent scolding giving you enough leverage to ensure its veracity.

“They tend to be very attentive about all that happens around the estate, and if necessary, they also tell me about it.” You continue. “…But please don’t punish them because of this. They mean nothing but good for me.”

“I know, and I won’t do so.” Naoya promises, far more intrigued in knowing just how far their knowledge of their surroundings extended: if they were aware of all his surprises and told you about them, if your reactions to them had been planned too…

Or if your staff still gave him a chance, understanding how special these gestures were for the two and letting everything play out by itself.

Naoya knew your ladies were ones to be trusted even with your own life, which is why he moves on to worry about your seeming indifference to this scandalous revelation.

“And you weren’t… frightened when they told you?” He breathes, his heart tightening at notion of your anguish, how he wasn’t there to comfort you.

“I was, and for the longest time I didn’t want to eat anything even if it was handed to me by my most trusted…” you continue, those days are ones you still struggle to forget. “But… I guess that after a while, my worries eventually extended over to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, first because you are my husband and I always worry for you, and secondly, because you were out there dealing with the people that tried to harm us… and were close to succeeding.”

“Please don’t say that.” Naoya begs; the thought of you and his baby— he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“… I tried my best to know of your whereabouts, what you were truly doing, but since this was a secret to begin with, I could barely find anything.” You responded. “Or why you wanted to keep this hidden from me.”

“I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want to give you another scare that might hurt the baby...”

“I know.” You sigh. “Which is why I ultimately decided to not push the subject when you came back; believing that once you were here, with us, everything would go back to normal…”

“Except it didn’t.” Naoya concludes, you tearfully look away.

“I looked back on all the things that happened in hopes of finding an answer. To what I knew, what I’ve done, if maybe there was something I said over the phone that you didn’t like, but… nothing seemed to click for me. So, I guess that after all that happened alongside how lonely I felt, my mind simply assumed you’ve—”

“—found someone else.”

“…Have you?”

“No; you know I don’t entertain others since the moment I met you.” He repeats.

“Then why… this?”

Shall he tell you that the way he’s chosen to deal with his prolonged absence… was by continuously rejecting you? Keeping away from you and his unborn child, missing even more of the growth he swore to witness and protect?

If he wants a slap across the face, he ought to.

But even then, he’d much rather take your anger than the pain of you mistrusting him enough to believe he’d ever love anybody else that wasn’t you.

His heart was yours, from the very moment he set his eyes on you. Naoya swore so when marrying you—

No—since the moment he was born Naoya already knew he was destined to spend the rest of his life with you, and the next one, and the next one. He just needed to find you…

And make amends in this one if he planned to achieve that too.

“…Because when I saw you again, I thought everything would go right back to how it was. That I’d find you just how I left you, happy, well fed, and with that adorable belly of yours I couldn’t wait to see grow…

But once I held you in my arms… when I felt how big our child had truly grown, how much time I’d ended up spending away from you—

I couldn’t stand to be near you. I felt repulsed by myself, like I had failed you—”

Like I didn’t deserve you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I love you and our little mochi so, so much, I don’t know what came over me to hurt you.”

“I don’t like it when you keep secrets from me… I thought we agreed to never do that when we got married.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs, looking away. It was now your time to cup his face and return his heartbroken gaze to you. “I just wanted to protect you.”

“And you can do that… by our side.” You then grab his hands, carefully placing them over your stomach and caressing it. “…Please don’t leave us again, I don’t think my heart could take that again…”

“I won’t, I swear.” Naoya says. “I never want to leave your side ever again or miss our baby’s growth. I want to be there when she gives her first kick.”

“Why are you so adamant in believing our baby is a girl?” you giggle, he smiles.

“I don’t know, father’s intuition, I guess. Though it all started the moment I had that dream of her. Ever since, all I can see is a little girl that looks just like you running across the estate” He confesses, your breath hitches. “With your big, bright eyes and rosy chubby cheeks I cannot wait to pinch, demanding she’d be given taro mochi before dinner—and you naturally sneaking some for her, of course.”

“You dream of our baby?” you swoon.

“Every night.” Naoya admits, and the thought of your husband being so eager to welcome his baby that he dreams of her… it warms you up with unprecedented happiness.

“Don’t curse our daughter like that…” you pout, referencing how Naoya already plans to tease her. He laughs.

“Finally accepted the truth, huh? That she’s a girl?”

“You’re not off the hook yet—” but just when you were on way to refute him, a sudden shiver down your spine stops you, making Naoya quickly reach out for your robe and wrap you with it, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before hugging you.

Being so close to you after so long it made it physically impossible for him to stray away, especially with the tight way you hugged him back, finally giving him all the love itched to share—and taking in his warmth, his scent; the smell you missed oh so much, but was only able to enjoy through the covers on the bed or his clothes.

Neither wanted this moment to end.

“Are you still cold?” Naoya asks, gently rubbing your back.

“No, not anymore…” you whisper, leaning deeper into his chest before trembling once more. “Oh, well, a little bit.”

“Come on, let’s get you back on the futon.” He proposes. “Unless you still want to…”

You shake your head, for as endearing as that sounded, there was much to catch up to.

“I just want to be like this with you.” You add, looking up to him. “If… that’s ok with you.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Making haste, Naoya helps you down onto the bed with such tenderness you could only giggle at, reminding him that you were only pregnant, and subsequently, still capable of doing many things.

“No, we’re not doing that.” He says, firmly set on pampering you; let it be known that he greatly loved you and missed being with you like this.

And once you were comfortably set on the bed, underneath the warm cotton covers and safe within his arms, he rested his hands over your stomach, no longer flinching at it’s feeling and instead, relishing your scent —roses, his favorite—and what this felt like to him, what you always represented:

Home.

“Have you eaten well? After that, I mean.” He wonders; Naoya doesn’t doubt you have, between your family and staff, there was never a moment they would allow you to lack what you so much desired. Yet, he still wishes to know directly from you.

“Contrary from what this may seem, I’ve only gotten this big because of the baby, not because I’ve been eating that much…”

“I wasn’t implying anything.” He laughs, still caressing your stomach. “Though I have to admit that I find you quite adorable like this.”

You blush.

“You must’ve been huge as a baby.” You continue on, enjoying the warmth eradiating from his hand onto your growing belly. And something tells you your adorable baby does too.

“Me? What makes you think that? Could’ve been your side of the family.” Naoya snickers.

“Um, no it isn’t. I’ve seen pictures of me and my dad tells me I wasn’t this big. Besides, it’s not fair that I haven’t been able to find pictures of you when you were a baby to corroborate that.”

“Ah, so that’s what you’ve been doing all this time?” He asks, inwardly glad that Ranta had managed to hide them. Though after this he supposes he could give you a preview…

“Besides eating odd cravings…” you giggle, intertwining your fingers with his, admiring the sensation of his wedding band underneath your touch. “Like Cheetos and strawberry yogurt…”

“Don’t tell me you actually ate that.”

“Our baby wanted it, what was I supposed to do? Deny her? That would only make me a bad mother.”

“Or a spoiling one.” He smiles. “But I can’t be too harsh on you, I’d be the same.”

“If not worse…” you say, recounting all the gifts he sent you while away. You haven’t even gone through all of them yet—and something tells you you might never, somehow more on the way…

“Definitely worse.” Naoya repeats, squeezing your cheeks into a pout before kissing the side of your face. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

“I have long forgiven you, Naoya.” You respond, turning around to see him. “But… promise to never do that again. We swore not to keep secrets between us. And if we are to make this family work, we have to be a team.”

“I know; us against the world.” Naoya murmurs, pulling you closer to him and giving you one last tight hug. “I promise, and I swear I’ll do everything within my reach to make up for all my mistakes.”

“You don’t need to do that, just your love will be enough for the two of us.”

He gives you a breathy chuckle, that he knows will not be an issue, he has more than enough love to share with you and his unborn baby, perhaps even more than he’s comfortable disclosing, which could easily be mended with another baby—

But all in due time, for he does not intend to rush this special moment with you. He simply desires to live the rest of his life with you, one day at a time.

Just… you and his baby.

What a lovely thought to fall asleep to.

I cannot believe they had this discussion naked LMAO I can't be the only one that thought so 🙈 anyways, there you have it. a regretful Naoya that lamented being away from you :( he's really excited to be a dad but hated not being there for you!! I'm 100% sure he cried about feeling your stomach be slightly bigger.

Oh, I love domestic au's. Anyways...

I hope this was to your enjoyment :> Thank you so much for your support!!

Take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

[retroaria]

hiii!!!! congrats on 1.5k omg!! could i get the dialogue nsfw no. 4 with chuuya (and maybe dazai if u feel like it) with sub!fem!reader please? tysm!!

₊˚⊹♡ Chuuya Nakahara x sub!fem!reader ₊˚⊹♡

a/n: cliffhanger lol bc i love leaving the smut up to your imagination 😌

˗ˏˋ written for aria’s 1.5k follower event! ˎˊ˗

There was an uncanny stillness in the air surrounding Yokohama tonight. It was thin, breezy, serene - the streets were quiet and clean. “Chuu~ did you have something planned for us tonight?” you leaned against your door as you held it open, your eyes flickered up and down Chuuya’s figure before you. “It’s awfully quiet out…”

A sly smirk spread across his face as he reached out to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in, “Wouldn’t want anyone dying on date night, all operations are at a halt. You’ve got me all night darling.” he cooed at you, his thumbs rubbing soft circles into your sides. “Are you ready to go?”

“You lead the way.” you tilted your head up and spoke into his ear, teasingly. His hand shifted to your lower back, guiding you out the door.

Chuuya didn’t get to spend nights like this with you often. His position in the mafia demanded his full devotion, and you knew this when you decided to entangle yourself in his madness. You meet with him in shadows as he passes through, or you’ll wake up some mornings in his arms, left to wonder how he snuck in the night before. He often would apologize profusely for his shortcomings as a partner, though you both know you couldn’t leave each other no matter how distant you felt.

On occasion, life would slow down, and Chuuya would find a way to arrange a single night where he isn’t needed. He’d call you in the morning, tell you to dress up as nice as you please, and by nightfall, there he was at your doorstep - roses in hand and a smile on his face. These clandestine meetings gave you time in between to yearn and long for each other. It made every touch feel electric, and every teasing word that melted off his tongue pool into your panties.

The night was beautiful as always, Chuuya Nakahara wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything less than extravagant for the woman he loves. A candlelit dinner, a piano playing softly throughout the room, a bottle of his finest liquor, and his hand holding yours across the table as he gazes into your eyes and listens to you speak. You spent the evening getting blissfully lost in each others presence, your temptations aided by the alcohol.

Eventually you found yourselves stumbling slightly through the streets back to your apartment, hand in hand, clingy closely to each other. He recounted a recent mission, pride and righteousness laced in his words. Chuuya was nothing but a punk who made it big in the criminal underground, surely no one in your life would approve of your relationship with him, but that only made it all the more fun. No one could rile you up this much, keep you on your toes and at the edge of your seat - ready to release every inhibition upon his command. As you neared your building, he wrapped his arm snug around your waist and pulled you close, excitement and anticipation bubbling up inside you.

You fumbled with your keys as Chuuya pushed his body up against your backside, his warm breath trailing down your neck as he nibbled playfully on your ear. “Someone’s antsy…” you said just above a whisper as you finally pushed the right key in and opened the door.

“I only have but so much time with you doll, I think we better to make the most of every second…” he said, lacing his fingers with yours as he let your guide him into your apartment. As soon as the door shut he practically yanked you into his arms, his fingertips tilting your chin up to face him, “…that is, if you’ll allow me?” he smirked at you expectantly, his thumb tracing down your jawline before moving to gently rub your cheek.

“Whatever you want…” you muttered out, entranced by his seductive touch and gaze. You aren’t even sure how it happened, he wrapped you up in his cloud of lust, and you came back to as your back fell softly against the bed sheets. Chuuya kneeled on the bed before, sat perfectly between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs to your hips.

He slipped his hands under your shirt, smoothing against the skin of your body underneath as he hummed in delight. You sat up slightly and lifted your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head and toss it to the side, his hands supported your back and he pulled you into a passionate kiss as you worked on undoing the buttons of his shirt.

You both worked your way through each others clothes, you pulled down his boxers and watched his cock perk up against his stomach- his tip slightly leaking in anticipation. Chuuya stopped abruptly once he had you in your bra and panties. He took in the view before using his hands to pray open your legs, squeezing gently at the fat of your thighs. His fingertips grazing down until they met your clothed core, pressing slightly through the fabric of your panties. Your breath hitched and his eyes darted up at you. “Is this where you need me baby?” he said to you softly, playing with the hem of your panties teasingly.

You hummed in approval, shaking your head a bit as your hips gently grinded up further into his touch. He pulled his hand away and placed it firm against your chest, sliding up until his fingers were wrapped loosely around your neck. “Use your words doll, tell me where you need me.”

He’s barely even touched you and he’s already taken your breath away, your hips buck slightly again, “Hmph~ anywhere chuu, please…” you pleaded. His eyes darkened a bit.

“Anywhere I want?” the devilish smile he flashed down at you was painfully hot, you wanted to instinctively shut your legs for some amount of friction as you felt your wetness pooling in your panties.

“Anywhere…touch me anywhere chuu~” your approval was all he needed to finally begin playing with you as he pleased. He pulled your panties down, lifting your legs above his head so he could pluck them off and toss them to the ground. He kept one hand wrapped around you neck as he trailed the other down your thigh, feeling the gentle pulse of your nerves the closer he got to where you needed him most.

Finally, his fingertips made there way down to your heat, pushing through your folds and rubbing against your entrance, collecting your arousal to spread up towards your clit. As he drew slow circles on your bundle of nerves you let your eyes flutter shut in pleasure. You could feel his hand around your neck tighten.

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.” he said sternly, increasing the pressure of his fingers rubbing against your clit. Your eyes met his and you were immediately pulled into his lusty gaze, your vision locked on him as you whimpered at his touch. He released your neck hesitantly, only to use his other hand to plunge two of his slender fingers into your gushing entrance. You rolled your hips into his hands, egging him on to speed up his thrusts. He curled his digits into your sweet spot and prodded at it roughly, continuing his movements on your clit and nearly pushing you over the edge. “I want you to look at me while you cum all over my hands princess, let me see how good I make you feel.”

Your eyes darted down to watch his hands work your cunt and you could see his cock hanging eagerly over the sheets, his tip red and plump, a subtle white glaze precum dripping down into his shaft. Your mind filled with dirty visions of his cock pumping rope after rope of his hot seed into your weeping cunt. Your body squirmed and tosses under his touch and you looked back up at him, brows furrowed and rolling slightly back. He could feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he sped up all his movements.

Chuuya groaned as he watched your eyes roll into the back of your head. He removed his hand from your clit and brought it back up to wrap around your neck, his other hand continued finger fucking you so rough you could feel yourself tipping over the edge. You stomach fluttered and your hips lifted slightly. You brought your hand up to wrap around his bicep, your nails digging into him as your orgasm washed over you. You moaned out and he watched you fall apart beneath him with his mouth slightly ajar, looking at you like he was ready to devour you whole.

He rode you down from your high, removing his fingers from your hole and rubbing gently through your folds. He leaned down and kissed your neck, trailing his kisses up until he reached your soft lips. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled away, quickly replacing his mouth with the fingers you came around moments ago, pushing them past your lips and swirling them around your tongue. “Mmm~ good girl, taste all that cum I fucked out of you…”

He reached his other hand down to slowly pump his throbbing cock, swiping his thumb over his leaking tip with a low groan. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and gripped your hip firmly, he rubbed his cock through your slick folds and moaned, his tip swiping back and forth against your clit. You squirmed beneath him, overstimulated, and he chuckled down at you.

“I’m hardly done with you baby, I know you can take it all for me tonight, isn’t that right?” he said as he lined his tip up with your entrance.

“Y-yes, Chuu~” you cooed at him. He reached one hand up to caress your cheek gently as he looked down at you with a mixture of lust and adoration.

“Good girl, now let me make you feel good princess…”

[beanmaster-pika]

Wait does Yanqing know that Blade is his martial uncle

[c0ffeejelly1]

Reacting to you wearing pheromone perfume

Multiple characters headcannon

Authors note: Dw they’re all horny for you, umm if it looks like I got lazy it’s bc I did. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warnings: NSFW Content, Femdom(ish), vaginal sex, riding and uhhh find out the rest urself.

The plan was set.

You were just going to do your usual grocery run, but hold off putting the new found perfume on until you were at the door step.

That way, when you walked in, the scent would hit him like a wave, making it clear even for him to notice something different about you.

It was perfect! And soon the plan was to come into play as you sprayed yourself head to toe in its mist.

You tucked the bottle away deep in your grocery bag, then unlocked the door, the keys jingling softly as you did.

“Hey baby, I’m back.”

You say, shutting the door behind you and setting the groceries on the kitchen counter. “So what’ve you been up to?”

You shot him a quick glance from the couch, an innocent smile on your face.

The type to invade your personal space

What the... what the hell did you do? Something feels off here. He can sense it—no, he can practically smell it.

You’ve pulled a fast one, and he’s gonna find out what exactly it is..

“Me? Oh I’ve been up to absolutely nothing..like nothing at all.” he says, strolling over to you, a knowing smirk on his face.

“But the real question is though..what exactly have you been up to, huh?..”

You hadn’t realised just how close he had really gotten to you, until you took your eyes away from the ingredient in your hand to look at him, a palm rested onto the kitchen counter as he leaned in closer to you.

You didn’t waver though. You knew this was only an effect of the perfume working it’s magic, he was probably just trying to get a better whiff of you.

Everything was going according to plan..

“Well, I was just picking up some things for the house and dinner tonight. Thought I’d whip up your favorite, you know?”

You suddenly feel a grip on your shoulder as he turns you to face him. He takes this newfound opportunity as a chance to bury his nose into your neck.

“Jesus..” what hell did you actually do? Why’s he feeling so..bothered. And why do you look so attractive all of a sudden. Not that you’re not always beautiful, but right now... you’re just breathtaking, and it’s stirring up all sorts of feelings in him. “Why do you smell like this..”

Perfect. Everything was unfolding just as you wanted it! Sure, you didn’t expect him to take the bait so quickly, but who’s complaining? You knew what was coming; after all, this is your boyfriend.

“Hm? Smell like what, handsome? I always smell like this..” You wanted to tease him, to see how far he’d go with it. That turned out to be your biggest mistake.

NSFW

Now your legs were sore, your hips bruised, and your back aching, all while he continued thrusting up into you.

How was he still going? You had been lost in this rhythm for what felt like ages, your bodies entwined and slick with each other's essences.

“Ah-..Fuck..y-you feel so good..”

The air around you was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix that only intensified the connection you both shared.

“And you s-smell..so so amazing..shit..it’s got me all types of f-fucked up..”

His face was flushed, lips slightly parted as he breathed heavily, each sound escaping him, a testament to the pleasure building between you.

His grip on your hip grew firmer, guiding your movements up and down his length with a deliberate urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath your touch, each thrust igniting a fire deep within you.

“I-I don’t think m’gonna last long if you keep t-tightening-..fuck..like that baby..”

The quick, shallow breath he took and the tension in his abdomen were unmistakable signs that he was nearing his peak again, ready to fill you completely once more.

You could see the way his eyes filled with desire, the intensity of his gaze locking onto yours as if trying to convey everything he felt in that moment.

It was a silent conversation, one that spoke of longing and need, of a connection that transcended words.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear, whispering sweet nothings that only fueled the fire between you.

You begin to rock your own hips against him, matching his thrust causing a small whine to escape his lips, and in return sending waves of pleasure coursing to you.

You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, a delicious ache that begged for release. The way he moved under you, the way he held you, made you feel cherished and desired all at once.

“B-baby I-..m’gonna..fuck- I’m g-gonna cum-..I can’t-..m’gonna- c-cumming!..”

With the broken moan he let out, you could feel him surrenderer to the moment, releasing all he had left inside of him into you and allowing the sensations to wash over him, a small whimper leaving his lips feeling you pulse around him.

You couldn’t help but lose yourself in the pleasure that enveloped you both, and to think..

this was all because of some damn perfume.

Characters: reigen, dimple, kagami, AOMINE, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, oikawa, GOJO, SOLOMON , CHILDE, KAEYA, wriothesley (Anyone you like)

The type to stare at you from afar

He knew from the moment you entered the room something was off.

Now, he couldn’t shake off his suspicion.

What had exactly changed about you..was it your clothes? Nah..it couldn’t be that.

Maybe you styled your hair differently?..no that’s just stupid; anyone would notice that.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even realise just how long he had been staring at you, examining every little detail like you were some kind of puzzle.

It was a little unsettling to say the least but you continued on with sorting out the groceries.

“Hey babe, can you help me with this?”

“No.”

You look at him confused and quite frankly offended.

This mf really just said no to you.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I can’t get close to you.”

That’s exactly the OPPOSITE of what the perfume is supposed to do! It’s supposed to attract him towards you not make him act like a deer in headlights!

“What- why?” You say a little too disappointingly for your liking.

“If I did, I might do something bad.”

Something bad? What could he possibly mean by something ba- ohh…oh. Oh.

Would it be funny if you just said that you wanted him to do that ‘bad’ thing.

NSFW

Okay take back everything you said. This is not funny anymore.

In fact this is just back breaking especially with the way he’s pounding into you all while pressing his face deep inside the crook of your neck.

“H-hah..fuck..I-is this good for y-you too, baby?..”

You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, as he struggled to stifle his moans, the soft, enticing sounds escaping him despite his best efforts.

You would be lying if you said this wasn’t exactly what you wanted; after all, you did choose to wear that perfume, the one you knew would draw him in.

I guess you just didn’t anticipate such a strong reaction from him, the way his body responded to your presence, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

The whole experience was incredibly distracting, especially with him so close to your ear, his breath hitching with every whispered compliment you offered.

“F-fuck..pull on my hair..p-please baby..m’so close for you..”

Each time your fingers tangled in his hair, you can feel the tension in his body falter, his hips instinctively responding to your words.

It was as if your gentle praise unlocked something deep within him, a vulnerability that made the air between you thick with unspoken desire.

He didn’t need no perfume to make love to you like this.

Characters: SERIZAWA, giyuu, armin, KAGEYAMA, OSAMU, geto, MAMMON, leviathan, albedo, CYNO, kazuha, XIAO (Anyone you like)

The type to get distracted while you speak

“Just the..the usual..”

“Mm..the usual huh? So mysterious.”

You throw him a quick look, a playful smirk creeping onto your face as you plop down next to him on the couch. With a dramatic sigh, you turn to him.

“Honestly, I was thinking about whipping up something new for us, but I’m not sure it’ll turn out great… Oh! You won’t believe who I bumped into at the store earlier—…”

‘Blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff..’ (PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT)

This man is not listening to a single thing your saying.

Everything is just going through one ear and out the other.

Yet, he’s nodding along, pretending to listen, his eyes locked on yours and occasionally flicking to your lips.

You’ve got him hook line and sinker.

“Babe. Babe, are you even listening to me?”

“..Huh? Y-yeah, you were talking about.. your friend?”

Right, because chopping tomatoes has everything to do with friends.

“Oh really? And what exactly was I saying about said friend?”

“I- you were..y’know..stuff?”

You raise an eyebrow at him

“Look baby I can’t concentrate right now. I don’t know what you did, but my mind is wandering to places it shouldn’t, and it’s messing with me, so please…”

“..please what?” You know what he wants.

“Help a guy out? I know you can see it..”

Oh, you definitely could see it. You could see the huge hard on he had right now, and here he was, asking for your help—there was no way you were going to turn him down.

NSFW

He let out a deep sigh, tilting his head back against the couch, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him as he struggled to maintain eye contact with you.

“You look a-absolutely stunning like this, my love…” His voice was a low murmur, thick with desire, as he took in the sight of you.

The way your mouth enveloped him, gently teasing his skin, sent shivers down his spine, igniting a fire within him that he could hardly contain.

Your lips moved with a tantalising rhythm, each caress sending waves of ecstasy through his body.

“Mhm..like that, k-keep sucking on it like that beautiful..”

He could feel the warmth of your breath, the softness of your touch, and it was all too much to bear.

His hands instinctively found their way to your hair, fingers behind your head, as he tried to guide you, to pull you even closer.

“Jus a l-little more for me baby m’already so close because of you..”

The way your hands explored him, tracing the contours of his body, ignited a primal urge deep within him.

Every gentle stroke, every teasing touch drew a soft gasp from his lips, a sound that echoed the intensity of the moment.

Before long, his breath caught in his throat, and without any warning, he released himself into your mouth.

Soft murmurs of "m’sorry" and "thank you" slipped from his lips, each word laced with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, as if he were acknowledging the weight of the moment while simultaneously surrendering to it.

He tilted his head back again, exposing the graceful curve of his neck, while a deep, guttural moan escaped him.

He clutched the couch for support, his fingers digging into the fabric as he began to calm himself down

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like that perfume.

Characters: midorima, rengoku, eren, Tsukishima, akaashi, Ushijima, suna, NANAMI, LUCIFER, ayato, DILUC, neuvillette, zhongli (Anyone you like)

The type to suddenly want to be a man

“Doesn’t matter, let me help you with that.”

This probably may have been the fastest you had ever seen this lazy ass man get up from the couch and willing ask to help you with something without you telling him to.

This perfume was doing its damn job alright.

And you were liking it already.

“You sure babe? Do you even know where most of these things go?” you asked, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

“…No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try for once, right?”

“Yeah sure..” you conceded, your curiosity piqued by his sudden determination.

“Just relax and take it easy. Please. I’ve got this covered.” he assured you, his tone confident and light.

You let him gently guide you back to the couch, ensuring you stayed seated while he headed to the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returned to you.

“Finished already? That was fast—”

Your words were abruptly silenced as another set of lips met yours, warm and insistent.

The unexpected kiss sent a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily stealing your breath away.

You had been caught off guard, your playful teasing hanging in the air like a forgotten thought.

When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back slightly, as he rested his gaze on you his chest rising gently.

“I want 10 of em.”

“..10 of what?”

“kids.” He replies with a stern look on his face.

“...”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m being deadass.”

NSFW

Well let’s just say he was NOT joking, and was very much being true to his words.

He intended to have those 10 kids, but first, he needed to prepare you.

That's why you found yourself on the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders as he immersed himself in your warmth.

“Mm..so good..you taste so fucking good..”

He was devouring you like a man starved, his tongue skillfully teasing your clit and occasionally sucking on it, making your legs tighten around him even more.

How many times had you cum already with his restless mouth?

Just how long did he plan on keeping this up?

You were already worn out, and now your legs were killing you.

“One more for me pretty girl..come on I know you can do it. You’ve got one more left in ya don’t you..” his words were muffled in with the wet sounds of your juices but you could still hear each and everyone of his dirty talk.

The way he would urge you into coming undone onto his tongue, the way his nose would brush up against your clit as his tongue pummelled into your hole.

It was all too much.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer anymore especially with his hums of approval sending all the right vibrations down to your mound.

With one last flick of his tongue against your clit, you came, fingers gripping onto his hair tightly.

When catching your breath just as you thought you had finished up with everything, do you hear the rustling of the sheets only to see him preparing to put his length into you.

“Fuck..d-don’t look at me like that princess, you know damn well we aren’t done here, especially with how hard I am now..”

That perfumes going on lock down.

Characters: Sanemi, jean, REINER, UKAI, kuroo, hinata, BOKUTO, atsumu, iwaizumi, CHOSO, DIAVOLO, ITTO, thoma (Anyone you like)

[filmstarved]

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ‘oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.

[writingsbychlo]

WITHDRAWAL | theodore nott

summary; theo decides to quit smoking, but doesn't realise that his decision would affect his girlfriend, too.

word count; 3007

notes; just a cute, fluffy little piece based on something that I was tagged in about 2 months ago! unfortunately, I cannot find the original post or tagger, but if it's you, please let me know!!

If there was one thing about Theodore Nott that couldn't be denied, it was that he loved with everything he had. 

He loved his friends; he was loyal to a fault and he’d never let them down. He loved his family, he wrote over fifteen letters a week to all his aunties and cousins, and still held onto his mother’s recipe book, even to this day. 

And he loved, adored, his girlfriend with everything that he had. He’d do anything for her, crawl across hot coals if she asked, give up his magic and his money and his legacy, just to make her happy. She’d never asked as such of him, still blushed when he pulled out his wallet when they shopped and smiled brighter than the sun when he gave her a handmade card or something he’d cooked. So, to his eyes, it didn’t seem all that much when he decided to give up smoking for her. 

She hadn't asked him to, never even pulled a face when he smoked. But Theo was damn sick of trying to blow the smoke away from her when she joined him at the astronomy tower, cuddled up to his chest, because he didn’t want that poison near her. He hated watching her shiver on the colder nights, he hated waking her in the middle of the night when he got up to satiate that itch, and he hated thinking of a future where he left her too soon, running short on time, because he ruined himself.

He chucked his last box into the fireplace one impulsive morning, and thought he might go cold turkey. He’d been so moody by lunchtime that he’d almost bitten Enzo’s head off over the way he pronounced ‘tomato’. That afternoon, he’d ditched his classes and trudged through the snow to the floo connection at the Hog’s Head, and picked up enough nicotine patches from a muggle supply store to knock out a fully grown Hippogriff.

He’d torn the packaging off of one in the grimy restroom at the back of the store and slapped it onto his bicep, and almost collapsed from the relief it gave him. It wasn’t nearly as effective as picking up a packet from the newsagent’s stand he’d passed would’ve been, but as soon as his fingers had twitched to pick up a box, your face had flashed through his mind. Your face, smiling at him, your face that morning telling him how proud you were of him when he’d shared his goals in hopes of support, and it was enough to deter him from the purchase.

You were his strength, once again, as you’d always been. 

And truly, you were so proud of Theo. Changing his patches for him every evening, in time with that first one. Reading up on the muggle solutions, and making sure you were fully versed on how to help him. Keeping him busy seemed to help, when he got bored, his eyes started flicking towards the door, and the slight irritability he’d been able to keep a lid on pretty well would begin to flare up. For the most part, he’d been staying at your dorm, in an active attempt to keep away from Mattheo, who wasn’t quite ready to give up his comfortable vice just yet. 

Unfortunately, as the days went on, while Theo seemed to be handling it just fine, you were struggling. The irritability grew, even Draco’s breathing was making you want to snap pencils in half in the library, or throw Enzo off the astronomy tower if he scraped his fork on his plate one more time. You were ravenous, and nauseous, all at the same time. You wanted to eat everything but could hardly hold it down. You were dizzy, and fatigued, and your grades were going to start slipping if this continued, because it had been almost a week since you’d been able to concentrate on any thought longer than a minute, never mind a whole class. 

And now, you were lying in bed, rubbing at your eyes angrily but unable to sleep as you stared at the ceiling. Theo, for once, was sleeping soundly beside you. Since giving up smoking, his sleep patterns had been getting better, while yours were getting worse by the night. Almost a week, and you’d barely gotten nine hours of sleep put together. 

When you shuffled again, pressing yourself a little closer to Theo as you rolled onto your side, he began to surface. The arm over your midriff tightened, pulling you in until your hips were bracketed against his, and he chuckled sleepily into your neck. Burying himself in, he pressed a kiss there, and another, and another. The rough pounding of your heart settled as you clasped Theo’s hand in your own, holding them to your chest as he littered your shoulder with kisses. 

At your sigh, he rolled you over, propping himself up on his elbow and yawning. Shaking his hand free from your own, he stroked the back of a finger along your cheek, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. As his hand settled on the side of your neck instead, yours slipped up to cup his jaw, and you melted into the tender love he offered you in the darkest hours. 

“What’s wrong, tesoro? Why are you awake?”

“Why are you awake?” you rebuffed, fingers lifting to comb through his hair, to push it back out of his eyes as he blinked himself a little more awake.

He shrugged, “This is about the time I’d normally go for a smoke.” He murmured, and your eyes flickered to the clock. 

You knew well enough the schedule Theo used to keep while smoking. Your timetable had slowly synched to it over the time you’d been dating. He’d wake up during the night, at some point around two, and disappear for a smoke. He’d take twenty minutes, or thirty if he bumped into Mattheo, and then he’d come back to bed. 

You didn’t mind the disturbance. Not when he’d come back slightly chilled from the night air and snuggle in close to you, wrapping himself around you.

“Actually, this is the time you’d normally come back from having a smoke, and give me my midnight kisses.”

“Is that why my girl is so restless tonight? Because I owe her some kisses?” He teased, leaning down until your noses were bumping, and you could taste the mint on his breath. Normally, he tasted like smoke, not toothpaste, and the shock of his warm lips instead of cold ones made you hum. 

The languid kisses melted the time away, his hand sliding up your shirt, sitting on your ribs and squeezing softly as he lowered himself down, covering your body with his own. Theo had always been your comfort, and your happy place. Being in his arms made you feel safe, and his kisses made you feel relaxed. As he licked his way into your mouth lazily, you anticipated the hazy blur of relaxation that usually followed when he kissed you. 

But, like usual recently, it never came. Instead, when he finally pulled back, and pecked the tip of your nose, he found you frowning, instead of smiling up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” You huffed, frustrated at yourself, at your confusion and the growing irrational irritation. “It’s not the same.”

“What’s not the same, bella?”

“Your… your kisses.” Your words trailed to a whisper, knowing he wouldn't understand, and the hurt that flickered across his face made your heartbreak. 

“They’re not?”

“No. I don’t know why.” His lips curled further at the sides, and the look on his face made you want to cry. It made you hate yourself, aggressively, and if you could tear out your own heart and give it to him just to see him smile again, you would. Just another thing you’d been suffering with lately, an overwhelm of your emotions, worse than any mood swing you got when you were on your period. “It’s not you, Teddy, it’s me. You’re still my happy place, you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s me. I’m the problem.”

“You’re not a problem, bella. But we should figure it out. I don’t want to… kiss you wrong, and see that look on your face. What’s different, tell me what’s changed?” His sweet words made tears prickle at your eyes, and you sniffed sadly as you looked at him. 

“I love you so much, Theo.”

“I know, tesoro. I love you too.” His thumb smoothed over your cheek, “Tell me.”

“I don’t know!” Your snap made his eyes widen. “You’re just… different. You don’t kiss the same way, you used to get all needy when you came back from a smoke, but you don’t anymore, and you taste different! You taste like mint right now, and it just doesn’t make me feel the same way afterwards.”

Your words were jumbled and hurried, rushed out as you smoked them and his brows furrowed as he tried to decipher what you meant. Second ticked by into silent minutes as Theo’s wonderful mind ticked and whirred, thinking the problem through, and playing with the information. Then, before you could say anything else, something clicked. You could see it in his eyes, when the gears stopped turning and the thoughts stopped flowing because he’d found the answer. 

Pulling away from you, he sat up, kicking back the covers and letting in the cold air, before moving across the room and shuffling through his gym kit left in the corner. Pulling out a nicotine packet from the box inside, he shook it out, using his teeth to tear open the packet as he made his way back to the bed. Sitting yourself up, you propped yourself in the pillows as he peeled off the plastic backing, and tried to unstick his fingers from it, holding it by the corners. 

“You’ve only had your patch on for nine hours, Teddy, it’s not time to change yet.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head and settling in beside you on the bed, legs folded underneath himself. “This isn’t for me, bella. Take off your shirt.” 

Slipping your arm out of your shirt, you pushed it to the side, watching as Theo brushed cotton fibres off of your shoulder, before sealing the patch onto your skin. He made sure it was properly sealed down, flattening it to your skin, before feeding your arm back through the sleeve of your shirt. He smoothed the top back down your torso, pressing a cheeky kiss to your breast over your heart as he did, and sitting back on his legs to wait. 

“Give it a second, then tell me how you feel.” He whispered, the moment feeling entirely too fragile as his hand took yours, fingers linked together. He kissed along your knuckles, his eyes locked on your face, waiting. And the moment you felt it hit, you knew he saw it too. 

It was like a cool, soothing balm over a raw, aggravated wound. It felt like running cold water on a new burn or healing a painful graze with a quick Episky. “Oh, Merlin…”

“I know, tell me about it.” He mumbled, the smile on his face at victoriously solving the problem melting away as realisation set in. “Cazzo, bella, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You have a nicotine addiction, and it’s my fault. All that time you spent with me at the tower, and the smoke on me, and kissing you as soon as I finished smoking. All your moodiness these last few days—”

“Hey!”

“It’s true, baby. It all makes sense.” He rubbed a hand over his face, and squeezed your hand tighter in the other. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I quit because I didn’t want this to happen to you, I didn’t want my problems to poison you, but it’s too late.”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, Teddy.” You demand again, pulling him in, and his mouth collides with yours as he makes a subtle groan of surprise and pleasure. 

His hand gripped the headboard behind you, the other skimming down your side. As you leaned back into the pillows, you took him with you, his body falling over your own, slotting between your thighs as our hearts thudded together where his chest pressed to yours. Your hands slid over his shoulders, skimming down his back, and he moaned again as your fingernails scraped across his lower back as you tugged at his shirt. 

He sat up, letting you pull it off of him, before his arms were back, caging you in on either side as he fell back down against you. Pulling one of your legs up to sit on his hip, he dragged himself away from your mouth, trailing wet kisses down your jaw, to the pulse point on your neck and back up. 

“Merde, bella. What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“You’re perfect, Theo.” You smiled, leaning up to steal more kisses from his lips that he was happy to reciprocate, “You’re perfect, your kisses are perfect. I knew it was me, not you. I was the problem.”

“A problem I gave you,” He groaned, his hips rolling against your own as you giggled breathlessly. 

“Yeah, whatever. Now we’re quitting together. That’s the promise we made, we do everything together, right?”

“Damn right, tesoro.” He growled, teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw, as he began to make his way down your body. Your fingers were loose in his hair, settling back in the pillows, eyes slipping closed as he kissed along the insides of your thighs, teasingly. Finally, your body could relax, no longer tense and buzzing, but the foggy comfort of the night made your muscles ease into the bed, your body feeling heavy, and you sighed in bliss. 

Theo mumbled something, and you let your legs fall a little further apart, but your grip on consciousness was falling further and further away as the nicotine coursed through your body, finally letting you ease into sleep you’d missed for days.

“Bella,” Theo said, his voice sharper, and you stirred, working hard to force your eyes open, but they’d only made it halfway. His hair was ruffled, eyes wide and lips swollen, but his smirk melted away from his face into a tender smile as he looked down at you. 

“Sorry, what’d you say, baby?” The words slurred out of you, and he chuckled. His fingers unhooked from the sides of your shorts, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “M’sorry, I’m so sleepy all of a sudden.”

“S’okay, bella. Never apologise. C’mere, let’s just cuddle.”

Tucking your body into his, you shuffled your hips back into him, and he threw his leg over yours as he held you tight to his body. “You’re hard.”

“It’ll go down, don’t worry.” He snickered, kissing the back of your head. “S’your fault anyway.”

“Sorry…” You whispered, again, sleepily. “I’ll make it up t’you t’morrow.”

“Go to sleep, amore.”

But you’d already drifted off.

It was just as you were closing your History of Magic book, that Theo announced his presence in the common room as he walked in alongside Mattheo. They were loud, and raucous, and thankfully, you were less inclined to bite their heads off for it today. 

In fact, alongside Enzo, you’d been able to catch up on all of the History homework you’d been missing out on for the last week or so, getting you back on track for at least one of your subjects. 

“Patch change time, bella!” Theo announced, making his way over to you as he untucked his shirt and began to undo the buttons down the front. Tugging the tie out of the way, he crashed down ungracefully onto the couch beside you, Mattheo nudging Draco to move up so he could sit down too. 

This had become a regular part of your routine now, and you pushed the edges of his half-unbuttoned shirt aside to reveal the patch sitting on the middle of his left pectoral. Picking at one corner, you peeled it away gently, careful not to tug on his skin as you did, and Theo watched on adoringly in silence as you took care of him. Unwrapping a new patch, you brushed off the spot, before sticking a new patch onto him and smoothing down the bandage. 

He patted it himself, before doing a couple of the buttons on his shirt back up for modesty, as though he hadn't already given half of the common room a show, before he leaned in to peck your lips. His fingers fell to the buttons of your shirt, and he began to undo them slowly. “Your turn.”

He undid just enough to reveal your shoulder, without letting anyone else catch a glimpse of anything underneath, and as he leaned down to begin peeling away the old patch, you caught Enzo’s confused expression. 

“Why are you wearing a patch?” He asked, and Theo laughed to himself quietly as he changed your old one out. 

“Because loverboy here got me addicted too, through kisses and secondary smoke.”

The others burst out laughing, unfettered by your glaring as they made kissy sounds and crude remarks, while Theo buttoned your shirt back up. Your glare turned to him as you caught sight of his smile, and he shrugged, a lopsided smile on his lips. “What can I say, bella? I’m just that good.”

“Oh, shut it,” You smacked his chest, and he took your hand, tugging you forward to cuddle you into his chest as he kissed your temple. 

“I happen to think it’s adorable that as a by-product of how you got addicted, that means you were addicted to me.”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes rolled, and he squeezed you even tighter. 

“You had me addicted to you without any substances at all, bella. Just you.”

“Alright,” You scoff, “Stop sweet-talking me.”

“Never.”

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Till The Water Boils Over Or The Frog Drowns.

Pairing: Yan!Gojo x Reader x Yan!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 5.8k.

TW: No Curses AU, Dub/Con -> Non/Con (Revoked Consent), Fem!Reader, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Kidnapping, Financial Abuse, Psychological Abuse, Infantilization, Spanking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Forced Codependency. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part Two]

It started the day Satoru first introduced the concept of ‘time out’ to your relationship.

He was immature and you were stubborn. You loved him, but without Suguru’s even temper and calming presence, sparks tended to fly in a way that left you at each other’s throats. With your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes narrowed, you’d watched him sigh, roll his eyes, and storm out of your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind him. You gave yourself a second, then another – sucking in a shallow breath and shutting your eyes, talking yourself through all your usual cool-down methods. You were supposed to go out, tonight, to a restaurant you and Satoru had both been talking about for weeks. You still had about an hour before Suguru was supposed to get home, before you were all supposed to leave together. It wasn’t a good day to fight, even if you knew Suguru would smooth everything over as soon as he got home.

When you were done, you moved to the bedroom door. One hour was plenty of time to talk things out. One hour was plenty of time to kiss and make up, even if you would hold a grudge for a—

You pushed gently on the door. It didn’t budge.

You tried the knob. It turned, but the door still didn’t open.

You pressed your shoulder into the wood, shoving with more force than you ever should’ve had to use. Something shifted – a chair slotted underneath the handle, Satoru’s back leaning against the other side of the thin wood – but didn’t give.

The frustration you’d only just managed to suppress resurfaced immediately. Still pressed against your side of the door, you called out, attempting to keep your tone soft, light. “Satoru? Baby?”

 The sweetness in his voice was equally artificial. “I’m right here, angel.”

“I—I think the door might be jammed.” You tried the knob again, rattling the metal for emphasis. Satoru only hummed in response, and you grimaced. “Are you gonna let me out, ‘toru? I really don’t have time to be—”

“Ninety minutes.”

“…ninety minutes?”

“Ninety minutes,” he repeated. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “After that, we can check and see if you’re still feelin’ so bratty.”

You were almost thankful there was a door between you. If it hadn’t been there, you might not have been able to stop yourself from throttling him. “Satoru, I really don’t have time to—”

There was an obnoxiously loud hum, the sound of footsteps moving down the hall. You groaned, resting your forehead against the cool wood. Whatever. He was being petty, again. You could do ninety minutes. And, even if you couldn’t, he’d probably be back in ten, tail between his legs and pouting for your attention.

You quickly resigned yourself to passing the time as quickly as possible. You laid face-down on your bed, bemoaning your taste in men and picturing all the ways you could break up with Satoru, once he let you out. You scrolled through your phone, spamming Suguru with half-coherent messages and memes from the very depths of your camera roll. You re-organized your closet, sorting your clothes by color and alphabetizing your shoes. You managed to read a full page of one of the bulky historical fiction novels Suguru kept on the bedside table before deciding you’d be better off breaking up with both your current boyfriends.

You checked the time when you were done, and discovered that you’d managed to kill a whopping fifteen minutes.

God, you were so fucked.

Only half-consciously, you gravitated back to the door, slumping against it. You opened your mouth, ready to call out to Satoru and say whatever you had to say to get out, but another voice cut in before you got the chance. “Baby?”

Suguru. He must’ve gotten back early. You let out a shallow sigh, letting your head fall forward in relief. “Right here,” you said, making no effort to hide your exasperation. “Can you open the door? I think ‘toru blocked me in.”

His deep chuckle was muffled, but still clearly audible. “I’m afraid I can’t. He’s still pretty mad, couldn’t stop talking about how you copped an attitude with him.” There was a pause, a shoulder being rested against the other side of the door. “I think he mentioned something about a dress?”

You were glad he couldn’t see you – he would’ve hated the way you grimaced at the reminder. “It’s a nice restaurant. I wanted to dress up a little, but he’s just so immature, and when he saw the dress I wanted to wear—”

Suguru cut in. “The red one, right?”

“Yeah, with the window on the chest.” You sighed. “Please, Suguru? I really don’t want to spend the next hour of my life locked in my own bedroom.”

Another laugh, this one more stifled than the first. “He just knows how pretty you’d look, babe. Probably doesn’t want anyone else to find out how beautiful our partner is.” When you didn’t respond, he added, “Didn’t he just buy you somethin’ brand new? He can’t complain if he’s the one who picked it out, right?”

You pursed your lips. He had – a pure ivory dress, a little shorter than mid-thigh and sleeveless, not exactly conservative, but not meant to show as much skin as you usually preferred to. It’d come with matching gold jewelry, and you’d politely accepted the gift, kissed him on the cheek, and stashed it under your bed to rot. It wasn’t ugly, nothing so expensive could be, but it suited Satoru’s tastes, not yours.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, trying to soften the harsher edges of your distaste. “You know how Satoru is. Everything he picks out is just so—so him.”

“I’m starting to think you both might be causing problems.” You kicked the base of the door, but Suguru didn’t indulge your outburst with acknowledgement. “Just try it on, alright? If it’s that bad, we can always go without him.”

It took another minute or so of condoling, but soon enough, you were slipping into Satoru’s gifted dress, cursing as you struggled with the tiny, finicky zipper and smoothed wrinkles out of abused silk. You pulled your fingers through your hair once before returning to the bedroom door and knocking defeatedly. As if to add insult to injury, the door swung open in an instant, a smiling Suguru waiting on the threshold.

“See? Absolutely gorgeous, as always.” He leaned forward, cupping your cheek. You let his lips brush over your forehead before pulling away. Thankfully, he wasn’t cruel enough to draw it out any longer – his hand falling to yours and taking it up, tugging you gently towards the living room. “Satoru’s going to forget he was ever mad at all as soon as he sees you.”

You didn’t bother responding, only slumping against his side and letting him guide you forward. Distantly, you heard Suguru calling out to Satoru, but you were already busy – too occupied promising yourself that this would never, ever happen again to care what either of them was saying.

You would, of course, be wrong.

~

Barricaded doors quickly became a weekly inconvenience. You and Satoru fought often (never intensely and never for very long, but often), and he owned the apartment – meaning, despite all your whining, you couldn’t exactly tell him that his doors couldn’t all lock from the outside. Your ‘cool-down sessions’ (Suguru’s words, not yours) lasted anywhere from twenty minutes to a couple of hours, and Suguru was always the one to let you out. When you couldn’t be locked up and left to stew, Satoru would take it upon himself to leave the apartment – if only for as long as he thought it would take for you to forget you’d argued at all. You got used to it quickly. It wasn’t fair, you didn’t enjoy it, but you got used to it. You’d always had more patience than you really should’ve, when it came to Satoru’s antics.

And then, Suguru started showering with you.

Finding time to spend together was an ever-present obstacle in your relationship. Satoru alternated sporadically between planning lectures and grading papers late into the night to rolling his eyes at the concept of due dates and dulling out extra credit on a whim, and trying to guess if Suguru would be free was a pursuit in futility – his sermons were scheduled, but he was almost always being called out on some mysterious errand on behalf of one of his countless, faceless apostles. You didn’t work at all, but you went to school, and you kept yourself busy. You’d never be as busy as Satoru and Suguru, but you did your best to keep up with them.

Currently, you were basking in the afterglow with Suguru, your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around his waist. Satoru was already gone, rushed off to some early-morning lecture, but Suguru didn’t have anything to do, and you—well, you could miss a lecture or two if it meant spending time with him. And, even if you couldn’t, it was hard to imagine tearing yourself away from the feeling of his calloused fingers tracing aimless patterns into the small of your back, of his lips pushing warm, open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your collarbone, your throat. His hands drifted to your hips, grip tightening ever-so-slightly, and you felt a raspy groan reverberate against the side of your neck, Suguru pulling you close as he—

“Save it,” you said, drawing back. He pouted and you grinned, pecking the corner of his jaw and sitting up, letting his sheets pool around your waist. “Just for a few minutes – I feel gross.” A full groan, this time. You laughed, combing his disheveled hair back and pressing another kiss into his forehead, this one lingering just a beat longer than the first. “You’ll survive a shower, Suguru.”

You felt him shift underneath you. Before you had a chance to pull away, he was sitting up, his arms still around your waist – keeping you messily laid across his lap. “I’ll come with you.”

“You’ll wait your turn.” And then, when he only hummed in response, “I’m being serious. Somebody in this relationship has to wash their hair every now and then.”

His face was already buried in the crook of your neck, and he was moving toward the edge of the mattress with your body still tucked against his chest. He was planning on carrying you, presumably. Sometimes, it felt like if it were up to Suguru, you’d never walk anywhere on your own again. “I know.” His voice was still raspy with sleep, his usual articulation weighed down by the fatigue that came with a morning spent in bed. “I’ll help.”

“That’s really sweet, but—” You strung your arms around his neck as he stood up, taking you with him. “—I think I’ll be alright on my own, Suguru.”

For the first time all morning, his eyes flickered open, wandering idly in your direction. He held your gaze for a beat, then another.

Finally, the edge of his lips quirked upward – the sly, knowing grin you’d fallen in love with soon painted across his lips. When he spoke, it was in a tone to match, all confidence and cloying, calculated sweetness. “No.”

You faltered, at that. “…no?”

“Don’t wanna be away from you for that long,” he mumbled, by way of explanation. “Whatever you need to do, I’ll take care of. Don’t want you to have to worry your pretty little head over anything.”

You tried your best to laugh, but it was a weak effort, better left unacknowledged. “I don’t know how I feel about my boyfriend offering to, I don’t know, shave my legs or something.”

He only soldiered on, as if you hadn’t said anything at all.

~

You felt Satoru’s hands on your waist first, then his chest against your back. His mouth found the curve of your throat as if by instinct, teeth grazing against a bruise Suguru had left in the same spot the day before. You felt him lean against you and dropped the knife you were holding onto a nearby cutting board, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter to compensate.

You glanced over your shoulder as his head bowed, face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. He must’ve just gotten home – he was still wearing his sunglasses, only the first three buttons on his shirt undone. You grinned, twisting around just far enough to kiss the top of his head before turning back to your ingredients. “Rough lecture?”

“Grad students,” he muttered, the dread in his voice plainly audible. “One more fucking extension request, and I swear, I’ll fail the entire class.”

You hummed, letting him sink further into you. You might’ve let him stay there, too, if one of his hands hadn’t fallen to your ass while the other slipped underneath your loose shirt. Before he could creep upward, you jabbed an elbow into his chest. “Keep it in your pants. You still smell like a college campus.”

Of course, he didn’t budge. “But I missed you,” he whined, as shameless as he was clingy. “I had to leave so early, and I was stuck in my office for so long, and I’m gonna die if I have to wait any longer. Is that what you want? For me to die?”

“You could always go to Suguru, if you’re that insatiable.”

“But I want you.” You felt a thumb slip below the waistband of your sweatpants (or, Suguru’s sweatpants, technically – he’d been unbearable unless you were wearing his clothes, recently) and batted his hand away. Your efforts were, predictably, unsuccessful. “Please, baby?” And then, after a beat. “You don’t care about dinner more than you care about me, do you?”

You felt something delicate inside of you falter, crack, then fall apart entirely. It was strange – how long you could nurse a wound without acknowledging it existed at all. “It’s not that, I just—” You stuttered, then stopped entirely. You deflated underneath Satoru’s weight, and as if in response, he held you that much tighter, keeping you as close as you could be, lest he carve open his chest and force you into the open cavity. “I… I guess I feel like I haven’t really been doing a lot for you two, lately. You pay all the bills, and Suguru goes out of his way to take care of me, and there just… It makes me feel kind of useless.” You tried to punctuate the confession with a smile, a laugh, but both were hollow beyond the point of recognizability. It would’ve been better if you hadn’t tried at all. “You get it, right? I just—I don’t want to be the only one not doing anything.”

There was a beat of silence. You felt Satoru settle against you, his chest pressing into your back before he pulled away, detaching from you entirely. You sighed, letting yourself relax.

And then, just as suddenly, you were off of your feet and in Satoru’s arm, one tucked under the bend of your knees while the other supported your back. You managed a stammered, half-coherent protest, but if Satoru was listening, he wasn’t bothered.

He carried you out of the kitchen and into the living room, your half-finished recipe forgotten in favor of dropping you onto the nearest couch and kneeling over you, already pulling on the collar of his shirt. “Sounds like our baby’s been thinkin’ too much.” He was grinning, his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. “Let me put a stop to that.”

You opened your mouth, but you didn’t have time to respond. His mouth was already crashing into yours; swallowing down anything you might’ve said and replacing it with a breathy moan, a haze over your conscious thoughts.

You didn’t bother trying to talk your way out from underneath Satoru, again.

~

You couldn’t breathe.

It took you a moment to realize what was wrong, another to put together why. You felt the blunt tip of Suguru’s cock hit the back of your throat as Satoru’s chest pressed into yours, the latter pressing the air out of your lungs while the former forced you to choke what little was left up. Satoru had set a relentless pace; his thrusts brutal, his tempo erratic, his hips crashing into yours with enough force to bruise. Two of Suguru’s thick, calloused fingers were lodged between your body and Satoru’s drawing quick, precise patterns into your clit, while both of Satoru’s hands were wrapped around the underside of your thighs, keeping your knees pinned to your chest, your body folded in half and pressed into the mattress. They’d always been taller than you, with Suguru kneeling by your head and Satoru looming over you, they both seemed so much bigger. They both seemed so, so much stronger than they ever had before.

You couldn’t breathe. The lack of oxygen was already rushing to your head, already replacing your sense of logic with a shrill, panicked buzz. Your body hurt everywhere they touched it, the warmth pooling in your core and arousal left behind by previous climaxes not enough to dull the sharp sting of Satoru’s nails against your skin, not enough to soften the harsh edge of the grin you could only barely see spread across Suguru’s lips out of the corner of your eye. It was a struggle just to move your jaw, and even then, any sounds you were able to make were borderline incoherent – your little chants of ‘red, red, red’ so stifled and so garbled by Suguru’s cock that you couldn’t have blamed him for not hearing you at all. It was only when you tried to pull your head back that his eyes fell away from where Satoru’s cock was fucking into your dripping cunt and to your face, tears of distress already beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. You let out one more panicked cry, hoping beyond hope that he’d be able to see the fear in your expression and know something was wrong, but that grin you had loved so much only widened, sharpened. “Like that, princess?” You felt his free hand on the top of your head, fingers carding through your hair while the patterns being pushed into your sensitive clit sped up, intensified. “Faster,” he cooed to Satoru, his voice laced with something vicious and mocking. “If she can still cry, she can still fuck.”

He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. Suguru just liked to be mean in bed, and Satoru liked to indulge him. That was the only reason they were doing this to you, that was the only reason Satoru listened; leaning that much more of his weight onto as his cock beat against the walls of your cunt. “Fuck,” Satoru muttered, as Suguru’s cock twitched against the roof of your mouth. “Got tighter when you said that. Is that what you want? For me and him to fuck you unconscious?”

This time, you didn’t try to pull back, you jerked – lurching out of Suguru’s hold, drawing back until you could gasp and pant and fill your aching lungs. “Red,” you half-choked, half-cried. “Red, red, stop, too much, I can’t—”

Satoru cut you off with a throat groan. You felt his form tense against yours, heard a shameless moan spill past his lips, and suddenly, it was like you’d forgotten how to breathe entirely. “Too close for that,” he muttered, his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. “You can take it for me, angel.”

You couldn’t, but you didn’t have time to tell him that. You opened your mouth, but all you could seem to spit out was a keening, pitiful whine as you felt something deep in your core pull taut and snap, as your cunt clenched around him and you came undone on Satoru’s cock for the nth time. At the same time, he went stiffed above you, forcing his hips flush with yours and filling your abused pussy with something thick and searing. The feeling was alien, strange. You could’ve sworn he said he would wear a condom, tonight.

It felt like you laid there for a small eternity – trapped under Satoru’s limp body, Suguru still petting idly through your hair. You stared unblinkingly at the ceiling until, days later, Satoru pulled himself upright with a raspy grunt, turning to Suguru. You were vaguely aware of his head being lowered into Suguru’s lap, moving to finish the job you hadn’t wanted to, but that seemed distant, unimportant. The room was too small, too closed-off. You weren’t getting enough air. You were too warm. You were too small. You—

You needed to leave.

Your body was on the edge of the mattress before your mind could make the conscious decision to move. You were shaking, despite the damp humidity clinging to your skin, but you tried to ignore that and focus on getting your feet underneath you, on fishing Satoru’s shirt off the floor and pulling it over your head. You’d need pants, too, and your wallet – maybe you’d still have a little cash stowed away, something from before Satoru insisted you start carrying one of his platinum cards. You’d spend the night in a hotel, or better yet, rent a car – get out of Tokyo altogether. You had a friend who lived outside of the city – or, you used to, at least. You couldn’t remember the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru and Suguru.

You made it to the doorway before Suguru called out. “Going somewhere, princess?”

You froze, but didn’t look over your shoulder. You could barely stand. You needed to go. “I just—I think I need a little air.”

“Give us a minute. Me or ‘toru should go with you.” There was a lull to his voice, an airiness just barely audible over the slick, sloppy sound of Satoru’s mouth moving over his shaft. You could remember admiring that about him, once, constantly thinking about how lucky you were to have such a cool, confident boyfriend. Right now, though, it was hard to think of his unfaltering composure as anything but inhuman. “It just wouldn’t be safe to let you—”

“I need air,” you repeated, because it was true, because you did. Little, black spots were already starting to dot your vision, and it felt like someone was trying to wrap their hands around your throat and squeeze. “I… I think I might be gone for a while, too.”

For all his tenderness, Suguru didn’t sound very concerned. “How long?”

“A couple hours,” you tried, and then, much more quietly, when he let out a disbelieving hum. “…a few days?”

This time, Suguru didn’t have to say anything at all. Leaning against the doorway, Satoru’s cum still dripping down the inside of your thigh, it took less than a minute for you to crack on your own. “I think we… I think I might need a little space.”

There was another beat of silence, occupied only by a soft groan from Suguru, the sound of noisy swallowing from Satoru. Finally, he sighed. You didn’t dare to look, but you could picture him shaking his head, smiling as he rolled his eyes. Acting as if you’d just said the stupidest thing in the world. “What do you think, Satoru? Have we waited long enough.”

“—too long.” Satoru’s voice was hoarse, breathy. In your peripheral, you could see him dragging the back of his hand across his lips as he raised his head. “We’ve had everything ready for months, now.”

That was all Suguru needed to hear. He turned back to you, letting his head lull to the side. “Come back to bed, won’t you, princess?”

You didn’t respond. What little air you still had hitched in your collapsing throat as you attempted to move forward, only for a hand to catch your shoulder and hold you in-place. It was Satoru – now standing less than a full step behind you. He didn’t bother with a warning before wrapping his free arm around your waist and dragging you into his chest and off of your feet. You made a weak effort to thrash, to squirm, to dig your nails into the forearm laid over your midriff, but Satoru didn’t make a sound, didn’t let you go, only hauling you back to where Suguru sat on the edge of the mattress. You shouldn’t have felt as betrayed as you did. They’d both always been able to pick you up and throw you around like a kitten, being carried from place to place by its scruff. It was always only going to be a matter of time before they stopped listening to your half-hearted protests entirely.

“Over the knee,” Suguru said with a sort of flippant, beckoning gesture. “I want to make sure we get off on the right foot.”

Wordlessly, unceremoniously, you were dropped face-down into Suguru’s lap – his thighs pressing into your exposed stomach. Satoru lowered himself to the floor in front of you, sitting cross-legged and reaching out, cupping your face delicately. More out of reflex than anything intelligent, you tried to push yourself up, but a hand on the small of your back was enough to keep you paralyzed. Sometime between the doorway and the bed, the shaking had gotten worse. You doubted you’d be able to keep your legs underneath you, anymore. “Twenty-five,” he announced – an executioner reading out his victim’s sentence. “Fifteen for trying to leave us, and ten more for not listening to me. Does that sound fair, Satoru.”

“So mean, Sugu’,” Satoru whined, but you could already see a crooked smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “The poor thing doesn’t even know what’s going on.”

“Which is why we have to make a strong impression. I want her to know there’ll be consequences for misbehavior.” You felt his hand drifting up the length of your spine, lingering on the sensitive junction between your shoulder blades. “Twenty-five, okay, princess? I’m going to need you to count for me – if you lose track, we’ll have to start over.”

“Suguru, ‘toru, I don’t—I don’t understand what—” You were cut off by a sudden, bruising blow to the plush of your ass – all force, no friction. It took you a second to realize that it was Suguru’s hand, another to consciously acknowledge that he’d spanked you. Like you were some bratty toddler. Like he wanted to hurt you.

It took another lash to know you out of your spell-bound state and send a keening, pitchy cry spilling past your lips. The tears you’d managed to hold back minutes ago were back in full-force, dripping down your cheeks and pooling on your chin, accompanied by the occasional sniffle or ragged sob. Suguru hummed, but any sympathy he might’ve had remained unexpressed, hidden behind a thick veil of strict impassivity. “I need you to count. I know it’s hard, but it’ll only get more difficult if you don’t cooperate.” He paused, clicked his tongue. “We’re still on one. Are you going to be good, or do I have to get the belt?”

“Hurts, Suguru, you’re hurting—”

Another blow, this one to the back of your thighs and twice as harsh as the first two. Meekly, you mumbled a weak “…one.”

You couldn’t see past your own tears by the fifth strike, and by the tenth, you were sobbing openly. Each blow leaves your skin burning and your ass pulsing, but despite everything, he was far from brutal. His pace was measured, precise, and he was strategic – careful to never abuse the same spot to the point of numbness. After the fifteenth, you sniffled and forced yourself to raise your head, meeting Satoru’s eyes and silently pleading for his pity, for his help. Rather than empathy, you found a glassy stare and his hand in his lap, pumping idly over his cock. A few hours ago, you could picture yourself teasing him for not being able to go a full minute without someone touching him, even himself. Right now, the sight alone was enough to make bile rise into the back of your throat.

His thumb ran over your cheek, his palm settling under your chin and tilting your head back. “Don’t give me that look. This is twice as gentle as he’s ever been with me.”

By the time it was over, you were near-inconsolable, every number followed immediately by a string of distorted gibberish, a disjointed plea for him to stop, or be gentle, or let you go. You laid limp across Suguru’s lap as he drew slow, tender patterns into your abused flesh, every little touch sparking a new kind of pain, dragging another ragged sob up from somewhere deep and visceral in your chest. He was talking to you, cooing sweet nothings, but you couldn’t hear him. You didn’t want to hear him. You wanted to leave.

But, you couldn’t, and even if you’d had the strength to try, you wouldn’t have gotten very far. You hadn’t seen him move, but at some point, Satoru must’ve left the room. When your crying began to wane and you could bare the thought of opening your eyes, you found him standing in front of you, holding a glass of water in one hand and three white pills in the other. “Open up,” he said, drawing out each syllable for a beat longer than he really had to. “It’ll help with the pain, promise.”

You pursed your lips, grit your teeth, but Suguru’s thumb pressed into a fresh bruise and fear immediately overwhelmed your sense of caution. Suguru took precious seconds to reposition you – drawing you up by your shoulders to straddle his thigh – and Satoru’s hand found its way back to your cheek, his thumb tapping your bottom lip and slipping onto your tongue as you, reluctantly, opened your mouth. The pills were first, allowed to sit on your tongue until their bitterness reached the back of your throat, then the water, poured sloppily enough for the excess to spill out of the corners of your mouth. The reaction was instantaneous – a wave of nausea, then fatigue, your eyes immediately too heavy to keep open, your body too distant to justify attempting to control. You went slack, falling against Suguru, and he chuckled, bowing his head.

The last thing you felt was his mouth against your throat before everything went numb.

~

You woke up hours later, tucked into a bed that wasn’t yours and in more pain than you’d ever felt before.

Shock and terror startled you into consciousness before you could so much as attempt to fade back into blissful oblivion. You tried to curl up, to make yourself as small and as safe as possible, but your leg caught on something – a leather cuff, discovered after throwing the sheets that’d been laid over you to the side. A shackle, lined in velvet and sitting loosely at the base of your ankle, a silver chain connecting it to an unseen point underneath the bed. You gave it another tug, just to check, and unsurprisingly, it refused to budge. You choose to look away before the pit quickly opening up inside of your chest could deepen any further.

Instead, you turned your attention outward – to the rest of the bedroom. It wasn’t the one you shared with Satoru and Suguru, or the undecorated guestroom Satoru had semi-converted into a home office. The walls were a pale pink, the shelves already stocked with stuffed animals, fairy lights, jewelry boxes that (knowing Satoru) were no doubt filled to the brim. You weren’t wearing Suguru’s shirt anymore, either. Your blood ran cold as you glanced down and found yourself in a pastel blue nightgown – all lace and silk and frills no one could ever hope to actually sleep in. You didn’t know whether to be disgusted that they’d re-dressed you while you were unconscious, without your permission, or thankful they hadn’t waited until you were awake enough to try and stop them.

Seconds seemed to move in thick, dripping clumps. You couldn’t be sure how long passed until your disoriented stillness was interrupted, but by the time the plain, white door (a neat row of undone deadbolts visible above to the knob) swung open, Satoru stepping through with Suguru following shortly behind him. Automatically, you started to move towards them, but caught yourself, pressing you back into the headboard and crossing your arms over your chest, as if that gave you any kind of authority. As if there was any authority you could have, chained to the floor in the bedroom of a pre-schooler.

“You were beginning to worry us,” Suguru started, sitting on the foot of the bed. “But, then again, our little princess was always a delicate one, wasn’t she?”

You stiffened, bristled. You opened your mouth, but closed it as Satoru draped an arm over your shoulders, collapsing next to you. “Here,” he said, holding something out. “Suguru wanted to make you ask, but I’m not that stingy.”

 You attempted to shift away from him, but Satoru had never made things that easy. He clung to you that much tighter as your eyes fell to his hand, finding—

A cup.

A sippy cup, pink and plastic and decorated with little, glittering clouds.

The nausea was immediate, nearly overwhelming. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to throw it across the room. You wanted to do anything but accept it, but your throat was bone-dry, a steady throbbing already begging to root in the back of your skull. Wordlessly, you snatched it out of his hand and (with more than a little strain) pulled off the lid, drinking as quickly as you could. Satoru’s nails scraped against your bicep, but neither of them commented.

Suguru waited until you were finished to go on. “You’ll get used to it, after a few weeks. It’s really not that different from our prior relationship, just a few aesthetic changes ‘toru and I thought a—” He paused, grinned. “—softer environment might suit you.”

“We can be more honest now, too.” Satoru sounded too giddy, too happy. “Those last couple of days practically killed me – having to watch you leave the apartment, acting all independent n’ shit. This way, there won’t be anything stopping us from keeping you all to ourselves.”

A beat passed in silence. It took you a moment to realize you were supposed to say something, and another to actually open your mouth, to find your voice when all you wanted to do was shrivel up and shut your eyes. “I don’t really understand what’s going on,” you muttered, like that would make it true. Like enough stuttering, simpering obliviousness would be what made them change their minds. “When are you going to let me go?”

Beside you, you heard Satoru try and fail to suppress a breath of a laugh, and Suguru’s grin only seemed to widen.