#I liked the end I had thought of a different one with a confession but I think this one made it a bit more mmm interesting ?

[snottyped]

can you write an imagine where the orc chieftain takes notice of fem!reader after they raided a village and he starts courting her in ways she's not familiar so she's just ignoring him. he got annoyed with being ignored, so one night, he got so drunk and ended up at her place, he saw her, just finished taking a shower, towel wrapped on her body, he started mumbling how annoyed he is and she just stares at him. then in the middle of it, throws up and ended up sleeping at her couch. she let him, but gets uneasy knowing the chieftain is just outside her room. she approaches her in the middle of the night and starts touching his form. he wakes up, grabs her hand and kisses her. then he confesses his feeling and he ended up railing her so hard she wakes up with bruised cervix. plsss help a girl out

you smell like mine

orc x female reader nsfw

They raided your village three weeks ago.

The orcs didn’t kill. Just stormed through, took supplies, territory, control. Your home was spared, your life untouched — but everything was different now. Especially him.

The chieftain.

Eight feet of brute muscle and warpaint, tusks gleaming, eyes like stormclouds—who, for some gods-forsaken reason, had decided you were the one he wanted.

At first, you thought it was a joke. Then came the “gifts”: bones carved into jewelry, dried meats smoked and left on your doorstep, pelts so soft they made your bed feel royal. Every time you stepped outside, you’d catch him watching. Silent. Expectant.

You ignored him. How could you not? He was an orc. A chieftain. You didn’t even understand his idea of courtship.

Apparently, neither did he.

Because tonight, he showed up at your home—drunk off his ass.

You’d just finished showering when the knock came. Wrapped in a towel, still damp, you opened the door to find him swaying in the moonlight, pupils blown, chest heaving.

“Why—” he slurred, towering over you, “do you keep ignoring me?”

You blinked. “…Chief?”

He stepped inside uninvited, muttering in a deep rumble, “I brought you meat. Furs. I didn’t take a single mate this season. Do you know how many offers I refused? And still. Nothing.”

You stared, speechless, clutching your towel tighter.

“I even cut down the human who touched your wrist at the market,” he mumbled, stumbling toward your couch. “Didn’t even bleed right. Disgusting little thing. Smelled like fish.”

He stopped.

Swallowed.

And promptly threw up on your floor.

You gasped, half-horrified, half-frozen. The chieftain, war-hardened, respected, feared—vomiting on your rug like a wounded animal.

“Sorry,” he slurred, before collapsing face-first onto your couch and passing the fuck out.

You just stood there.

Towel. Orc. Vomit.

What the hell.

You cleaned up after him. Cursing. Blushing. Checking that he wasn’t dead. He snored like a wild beast, huge body stretched across your sofa, so big his legs hung off the side.

You should’ve been furious.

But instead?

You couldn’t sleep.

Not with him just outside your room. Not with his scent lingering in your space — warm earth and smoke and wild musk. Not with how small you’d felt next to him when he’d stood in your doorway, drunk and frustrated and aching.

And worse—now you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

So you got up.

Midnight air brushed your skin as you padded out of your room, heart pounding. He was still there, sprawled out, half-covered in a pelt he’d probably brought you himself.

You crept closer.

You didn’t know why you reached out. Maybe to wake him. Maybe to reassure yourself he was real.

But your hand brushed the edge of his chest—warm, scarred muscle—and he stirred.

And then, suddenly, he was awake.

Eyes open.

Hand snapping around your wrist in a grip so firm it stole your breath.

You gasped. “I—I didn’t mean—”

He didn’t growl. Didn’t snarl.

Instead, he kissed your palm.

Rough lips, reverent touch. His eyes burned into yours.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he rasped. “The waiting. The ignoring. You look at me like I’m a beast and never a man.”

You couldn’t answer. Didn’t have the air.

“I dream of you. I starve for you,” he whispered. “Let me show you how orcs love.”

You whispered, “Will you show me, truly?”

“I will.”

That’s all it took.

He lifted you, carried you to your bed like your never mattered. And to him? It didn’t. His mouth devoured yours—hungry and desperate. His hands left fire on your skin, trailing down your sides, tugging your towel loose until you were bare beneath him.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, voice hoarse. “Tell me now.”

You pulled him in closer.

He growled like a man unleashed.

What followed wasn’t gentle.

Split you wide open on his cock, made you feel every inch—his hands gripping your hips, his teeth nipping your shoulder, fucking you through the mattress with the force of someone who’d waited too long to have you.

Your legs trembled. Your back arched. Your vision blurred with every thrust. Tear clogggin your vision as his fat fucking cock split you open every time he moved.

He whispered praise between curses—“mine, so soft, perfect, my mate, mine”—and each word made your cunt clench tighter around him until he snapped, knot swelling, hips jerking.

You’d never felt full like this.

Not until he had you pinned beneath him, thick arms caging you in, his hips grinding forward in slow, brutal thrusts that felt like they reached your soul. His cock dragged deep—too deep—stretching you wide, kissing your cervix every time his knot slapped against your dripping folds.

Your nails dug into his back, barely anchoring yourself.

“You take me too well,” he growled into your neck, voice ragged, drunk on your scent. “Like your body was made to be filled by me. Only me.”

He gripped your thighs, pushed your knees higher, spreading you open so he could rut deeper, harder, relentless now—flesh slapping, the bed creaking, headboard knocking the wall like a drumbeat to your moans.

And gods, the sound of it—the squelch of your soaked cunt every time he bottomed out, the primal snarls he let loose when your pussy clenched around him—it had you right there, again, legs shaking uncontrollably.

“I can feel it,” he groaned, sweat dripping onto your chest. “You’re close. Gonna come for me again?”

You nodded, tears in your eyes. “C-Can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He leaned down, fangs brushing your throat. “Give it to me.”

He slammed into you once, twice—angle perfect, pressure blinding—and then he rolled his hips with a growl, grinding his cock deep against your g-spot.

You shattered.

Your mouth fell open on a silent cry, your back arched—and then you squirted, gushing around him, the sheets drenched instantly, thighs trembling with the force of it. His eyes widened, then darkened, and he growled like a beast unchained.

“My good girl.”

He didn’t stop. Not when you squirmed, not when you gasped from overstimulation. He held you there, fucked you through it—groaning as your release soaked him, as your cunt fluttered wildly around his cock like it never wanted to let go.

Thick and sudden, locking you in place as he groaned your name into your throat and emptied himself inside you, filling you so deep your belly ached.

You collapsed beneath him, boneless. Wrecked. Wet.

He didn’t let go.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “And I’m never letting you be dry again.”

When you woke the next morning?

Bruised.

Sore.

Your cervix complaining.

And beside you, his arm slung over your waist, holding you in place like his life depended on it.

Because to him?

You were already claimed.

[radioactive-alien-thing]

Azuretime x reader polygamous please! We need more of them frfr

I'm not sure about the specific plots, but maybe when Azure came out as a killer for the first time and they all reunited?

You can choose whether or not reader was also in the cult. But they prooooobably didn't know about the sacrifice? Maybe they might've also almost got sacrificed, but Two time failed and they got Forsaken™ first?

Yeah, that's about it. I think. I forgot to say when I said we need more Azuretime x reader, I meant angst 😈😈 /hj

The relationship is gonna so strained, but the dynamic would be kind of interesting?

Take your time with the requests! Your health and happiness is the first priority!

❤️❤️❤️❤️ /Platonic

HAAAIIII omgosh sorry this took so long!!! and sorry if it’s. not the best!!! i hardly write angsty so thank you for this practice!!! hope u enjoy regardless<3

azure x two time x reader - unspoken confessions

not much really concerns you these days. after numerous weeks(?) of being stuck in a eerily cold & horrific realm, as if you were a lab rat in a cage, putting on a show for some mysterious ‘spectre’, you’ve pretty much gotten used to it.

of course, you still prayed to the Spawn every day, clinging to your faith in rough times like these. and you prayed for your partners, too- wherever they were. if they were even safe. at least they didn’t have to suffer in this place, wherever you were… could be hell, could be purgatory. you weren’t all too sure.

but it didn’t take long for things to shift and you quickly regretted ever feeling hopeful. eventually, two time ended up in the same realm as you, though something about them was off. you noticed it right away, the air of tension, the defensive glint in their eyes. they felt distant, hesitant. when you reached out for a hug, relieved to see one of your partners after convincing yourself you never would again, they flinched.

that’s fine, though. that’s absolutely okay, you told yourself. two time must be incredibly overwhelmed. confused, maybe even scared. after all, there was only one way to end up here, and it wasn’t exactly by natural fate. you didn’t pry, they didn’t want to talk about it. but when you finally mentioned your attacker fleeing and leaving you to bleed out, a small frown flickered across their face. just for a moment, you thought you saw something, some hint of emotion. you couldn’t tell if it was concern… or maybe regret?

so you brought up your second biggest concern, a bit of anxiety settling in. azure. what about azure? was he okay? at the mention of his name, two time slightly stiffened, but their eyes continue to hold that same manic look, tense as if they were holding something back.

you barely got an answer. it hurt. you needed to know. but every time you tried to learn more, two time redirected the discussion back to the Spawn, always circling back to the one thing they were utterly obsessed with. and though you wouldn’t ever say it out loud, praise be to the Spawn, you were starting to grow agitated.

eventually you ended up in a match together, forming a tiny pact to watch each other’s backs. you noticed the spectre had let them keep their dagger, though you didn’t ask why. a weapon’s a weapon, and it’s pretty useful in this case. maybe it didn’t mean anything.

you’ve already repaired a few generators, but the lack of a killer was making you increasingly anxious. where the hell were they? did taph blow them up already? where was all the usual bloodshed? something was off.

“two time? two time?” you call out, presuming they had ditched you. so much for loyalty. you even made a mental note to give them absolute hell for it later, but the sight you walked into stopped you cold.

you initially didn’t want to believe it, but you couldn’t deny it for long. it was azure, but not the one you remembered. they were different- stronger, more intense. scarier. it didn’t take long for it to click. they were the killer.

azure’s eyes look almost regretful, maybe even sad, as their hands tighten around two time’s neck, choking the other cultist on the ground. the sight hit you like a truck and left your head reeling. instinct took over and you lunged forward, trying to pull them apart. everything went all blurry for a moment. azure’s eyes widened when he saw you, filled with a conflicted emotion that didn’t match his actions. it was almost like he wasn’t in control at all.

you did successfully manage to shove them apart. two time weakly crawled away, gasping for air. azure just stood still, shaking, hands twitching.

your eyes drift over to the small wound you left on azure’s cheek while trying to save two time. slowly, he reached up to graze it. every little move was tense.

without a word, azure turned sharply and forced himself to trudge away, footsteps unsteady. you didn’t try calling out to him. he didn’t bother looking back. all you could do was stare at the empty spot where he once stood, his silence louder than any words he could’ve left.

[shintaru]

Heart eyes

m.list ♡ taglist

Synopsis: For the past few years, the "Heart Eyes" serial killer has moved from different cities in the United States, killing multiple couples on Valentine's Day. We’ve every reason to suspect Heart Eyes has moved to New York! Two couples have been found murdered, one at the Statue of Liberty and another at Staten Island Ferry.

Let the killing begin!

“I can’t believe I’m now the manager of the Gold Rush crew” you thought to yourself you’ve always wanted to travel to New York City but you didn’t expect it to be so soon especially under these conditions. You’re still heartbroken and you wish you could forget it ever happened.

If you knew confessing to Owen knight would not only get you rejected & fired as a Light Calvary’s manager you would’ve stayed silent. “It’s not professional to have feelings for someone on the team, I’m sending you to the Gold Rush crew. You'll work alongside Poel. He's been wanting to recruit you as his manager for years, you'll do fine there” you recall Owen saying. It’s just not fair, Noah has a crush on Owen. You think to yourself.

What's even worse is that you despise Poel you have since Light Calvary’s race against the Gold Rush crew 2 years ago. He didn’t necessarily do anything to you, just something about him got under your skin and now you’re the manager of his team, how will you survive? You think to yourself as you exit the airport. You had spent the whole flight in your head trying not to cry over the situation.

You look out the window after getting into the cab that Poel called to pick you up, too heartbroken to text him back so you just like his message letting him know you saw it. You’re currently on your way to have a “date” with Poel Reynolds at River Café in New York City. It's your first day here and Poel suggested taking you to dinner while you two discuss rules for joining his team.

Upon entering the café you’re met with the nice smell of coffee and pastries. Poel waves you over from a booth near the back of the café. “You’ve been ignoring my texts! What if something happened to you?! What if the cap driver was a creep?” He says loudly causing customers to stare at you two. “I came here in one piece didn’t I? It all worked out” you say hoping he’ll calm down.

When you finally sat down your order was already on the table. “How did you know my order?” You say as you look up at him even though he is sitting he’s still quite taller than you. “No way, anyone else besides us orders an iced mocha latte with creamer and extra chocolate drizzled on top” he replies. Then you remember that after the race with Light Cavalry and Gold Rush Owen had called in drinks and everyone got to order and that’s when you leaneed you and Poel had the same coffee order.

“Dating isn’t forbidden in my crew” he suddenly says making you choke on your coffee. “I’m sorry, what?” You say and “there isn’t a rule against dating in my crew so you can date if you want” he repeats himself making you roll your eyes and scoff. “I’d rather not think about dating right now” you laugh sarcastically. Taking notice of your annoyance by the mere mention of dating, Poel asks “why is that?” “Because it’s nothing but disappointment.” You say

“What if I told you I liked someone?” He asks “I’d tell you it’s a waste of your time and you should give up it will only end in heartbreak, or you’ll get cheated on, or they only want you for sex dating is nothing but a shit show” you say making Poel get of from his seat causing his chair to fly back and hit the wall he walks out the cafe slamming the door.

Then you realize how harsh you were with him and how you could’ve possibly ruined his hope over his crush liking him back when it’s not his fault you were rejected today. Before you could apologize, the Cafés TV turned up.

News reporter on Café TV: “Over the past several years, the infamous serial killer "Heart Eyes" has ravaged cities on Valentine's Day by tracking down and murdering couples. This Valentine's Day, no couple is safe. Stay inside and don’t make any plans this holiday until the killer is caught.”

After hearing the message on the TV you run outside the café. “Poel I’m sorry I was very rude, the truth is I had a crush on Owen for a very long time and I finally told him and he made me quit the team and now I’m here it’s all so sudden and it’s not your fault” you ramble not really knowing why you’re confessing your rejection to him of all people.

Poel leans down to your eye level and says “you’re here with me forget him and focus on me” as you’re about to reply some maniac with dark blue hair is speeding on a bike and they are headed straight for you you try getting out the way tripping making you fall right into Poel your eyes widened when you realized your lips are touching you hear a guy mumble “sorry” you hear the pedaling get quieter as they leave the scene.

Poel doesn’t seem to mind the sudden contact he cups your cheeks with his hands pulling you in further for a kiss you grab tightly onto his shirt melting into the kiss when he pulls away he smiles saying “you know if you wanted a kiss you totally could’ve just asked you have a funny way of apologizing” he says laughing. “Wait I wasn’t” you try and explain you didn’t mean to kiss him.

You both were unaware of the danger watching you from a distance, Heart Eyes watches The two of you observing the way Poel eyes follow your every movement the way his eyes light up when he sees you smile and immediately Heart Eyes found their next target.

Poel quickly calls a cab over. Once you’re both in the cab he tells the driver the destination of his apartment. The ride is silent, Poel breaks the silence “you can stay here for the night until we get your living situation sorted out” he offers. “Thank you!” you reply. “How will I deal with him for the whole night?” You ask yourself hoping he doesn’t plan to annoy you.

You arrive at his apartment but Poel can’t seem to find his keys. “Shit I totally left my keys at the café when I walked out in a hurry” he states. “Do you have a spare?” You ask, trying to be helpful. “Yep, but it’s upstairs you need two keys. One is to get into the building, the other is to get into your apartment.” He replies. “What the fuck kinda shit is that? Are all apartments like this in New York?” You ask, making him laugh.

His laughter is cut short when a knife flies between both of your heads sticking straight into his apartment complex's door. “What the fuck is your problem? You almost hit her with that watch where you’re throwing shit” Poel says grabbing the knife out the door.

The killer kicks Poel into the door, making him hit his head; he gets knocked out instantly. The killer beads straight for you and you run down the street. “HELP SOMEONE CALL 911” you yell out hoping someone will hear you.

After it feels like you’ve been running for miles a cop car pulls up beside you. When you look behind you the killer is nowhere to be seen. “I was being chased by the heart-eyes killer” you tell the cop. “Im officer Harvey and I work with officer Priscilla in the investigation of the heart eyes murders we have every reason to suspect your boyfriend is the killer” Harvey says.

“What?!” You say in shock. “We are victims, we've been chased by that psychotic killer all night and you’re blaming Poel for the murders?!” You shout. “I know you’re under a lot of stress and this is sudden so I’ll keep it short, he was found with the mask and the weapon laying outside his apartment unconscious and a ring we found at the Statue of Liberty murders crime scene has his initials P.R” Harvey says. “He also has been in every other state that the murders occurred in” he adds.

“No that can’t be true” you say without believing a word he says. “He is a world class cyclist he has to travel to a lot of states for races!” You exclaim trying to defend Poel. “Save it for when you’re questioned.” He says. You can’t believe the audacity he has to speak to you this way when you’re the victim. You watch as Poel is driven away in another cop car. Harvey drives you to the police station.

At the station, Rivera & Harvey point out Poels initials match the ones on the ring found at the Statue of Liberty crime scene, and that he was in the same cities at the same time as the killer's previous attacks. “I swear I’m being framed, I never killed anyone and I’m not married” Poel says. “That’s what they all say” officer Harvey replies. Priscilla cuffs Poel to the table in the interrogation room. Finally beginning the interrogation process.

You arrive at the station running into the lobby. You approach the front desk swiftly asking Frita the receptionist, where the suspect is. “He isn’t the killer he was with me all night, we’ve been running from the killer all night if it was him I’d know” you say. “Relax, I'll go get you some information,” Frita says. “Thank you!” you reply.

Frita leaves you in the lobby to go speak with officer Priscilla. Frita enters the interrogation room alerting Priscilla that they have a code CWIL at the front desk. “I’ll take care of it,” Pricilla says. “Hey, what’s code CWIL?” Poel asks. “It stands for crazy woman in love” Fran answers.

As you’re waiting in the lobby some weird IT technician named Daniel asks you on a date. “I almost got killed tonight by the couple killer also known as heart as after me and an acquaintance got mistaken for a couple.” You say hoping the odd confession will get him to walk away. “Oh I’m sorry forgive me” he says and slowly exits the police station. You sigh in disbelief at the night you’ve had.

Priscilla enters the lobby and tries doing a background check on you as her and Frita ask you questions but the Internet is down. “The internet's down. I'm going to go check the breaker and I'll be back. Frita don’t let her go anywhere until I get that background check done.” Frita nods her head in response. “You sit down in the waiting seats and don’t move until she gets back.” Frita tells you.

Before you could question why they need to do a background check on you Frita gets stabbed through the chest by heart eyes with the national flag of the United States on a pole. The power goes out leaving you and the killer briefly unable to adjust to the new lighting. You take the opportunity to grab the garbage can and charge at the killer knocking the cab straight into them. The killer falls back into a wall. You grab Fritas' gun and keys from the floor and skedaddle towards the hallway running into officer Harvey. “THE KILLER IS DOWN THERE HE KILLED YOUR RECEPTIONIST” You yell at him. “I’ll take care of it, you go hide.” He warns you.

You run to find the room Poel is in but you’re not exactly in the same room. You’re in the observation room you’re able to see Poel through a one way glass window but he’s unable to see you. Having a horrible idea you take Frita’s gun and start shooting at the glass. Poel ducks under the table trying his best to cover his head but he’s still cuffed to the table so he’s having trouble doing so. You jump through the new opening you just made rushing over to Poel.

You use the keys you stole from Frita to free Poel from the handcuffs. He grabs your hand and as he’s about to open the door it swings open Revealing heart eyes. A knife is swung and you and Poel, he lets go of your hand and shoves the table into heart eyes. Poel grabs your hand again dragging you to the opening in the window he picks you up bridal style and sets you back down in the other room. He then hops through the opening himself and you bright run out the room hand in hand exiting the police station.

You flee to a drive-in movie theater. You and Poel notice all the couples at this location. “Oh no we just lead him to an all you can kill zone” you say. “It will be ok, come on follow me” he replies gripping your hand tightly pulling you through the cars trying to find a hiding place. You two find an unlocked van and you both hop in.

You hear several screams from inside the van as you’re sure couples are being brutally murdered outside. Soft moans distract you from the screams outside you and Poel slowly turns to look at each other and you slowly look in the back of the van. Where you spot a hippy couple fucking in the back of thier van. “Hey keep it down there is a killer outside you” whisper shout. “We love role playing,” the woman says. Poel rolls his eyes while making a funny face. “We are going to get caught because they are fucking too loud” he says.

As if the killer read Poels mind the back of the van doors swing open and the killer stabs the woman all the way through her throat and the weapon exits the back of her head he yanks the weapon out her mouth splattering blood everywhere. The man underneath her screams as her body drops onto him as his screaming is cut short heart eyes stabs the same weapon in his throat killing him in an instant. You and Poel exit the vehicle while heart eyes is occupied.

Heart eyes heads to the vehicle where you and Poel just left. Poel takes your hand and runs to the back of the vehicle. You’re gonna kill me? I won’t hold back. Poel says as he takes the knife out of the couple in the van and stabs it straight through the killer's neck fatally wounding the killer splattering blood all over you two. The killer's body drops to the pavement. Poel squats beside the body pulling the mask of revealing that the killer is a complete stranger.

“Do you know this guy?” He asks. You shake your head no. “In the ghost face movies the killer is usually someone you’re close to” you say confused as to why some random guy is going around killing innocent couples.

“We just killed someone” You say. “yep.” Poel replies trying to catch his breath. “Really? We can go to jail for murder and all you have to say is yep?!” You replied, you question how he’s so nonchalant after what just happened. “What it’s self defense!” Poel says.

An ambulance and cop car approach the scene. After gathering all the details from you Poel and other witnesses as the drive in. A paramedic says “damn, you two will be famous! The bad ass couple who stopped heart eyes!” He stuck his tongue out showing off his split tongue “damn it kinda turns me on” he says making you and Poel give each other a concerned look. The other paramedic was even weirder, you thought he wore a mask, he never said a word the only sound you heard from him was his laughter after his colleague made the inappropriate remark.

Officer Rivera arrives at the scene stating she has a few more questions for Poel and he needs to come with her. “Be careful something about her isn’t right.” You warn Poel. “I’ll totally be fine, it’s her job to help us but I completely understand it’s hard to trust anyone after the night we’ve had” he says as gets in her car. He waves goodbye to you through the window.

Great, I'm stuck in this ambulance with two nut jobs. You begin reflecting on your night as the two paramedics tend to your wounds. You haven’t thought of Owen once since you’ve been with Poel. “Am I falling for him?” You think to yourself. Your thoughts are interrupted by a text from Owen “I’m so sorry are you and Poel okay? I saw the news. I had no idea the heart eyes killer was in the US.” You’re unable to reply to his message because you receive and call from an unknown number. At the same time a texts pops up from an unknown number saying “you better answer or he dies”

You answer the call “come to the old abandoned chapel alone if you want him to live” the killer sats posing an obvious trap the call ends abruptly after that. “HEY SNAKE TONGUE CHASE THAT COP CAR” you say. “Sure~” he replies, turning on the siren, speeding after Priscilla. “I’m not sure what’s going on but things are getting interesting hehe.‪‪❤︎‬” The paramedic says you learn his name is Wooin and the other is Hyuk and they really aren’t paramedics. They stole the costumes after beating up the real premedics because they wanted to see the scene of the murder.

“Good luck saving your boyfriend” Hyuk yells out the window as the ambulances exit the chapel's parking lot. “HE IS NOT MY BOYF- forget it” you say knowing they wouldn’t hear you anyway. You enter the old chapel upon arrival you’re greeting with a tied and gagged Poel. You run over to him to get kicked back by two masked killers. “Not so fast” one killer says as they take their mask off revealing their identities Priscilla and Daniel.

“If you’re the killer then who did we kill at the drive-in?” You ask. “He was just a fanboy and a short lived lover” Daniel replies. “We’ve committed every murder together as a couple” Priscilla says. “I killed the couple at the Statue of Liberty unfortunately I lost my wedding ring there” Daniel admits. “And I killed the couple at Staten Island Ferry” Priscilla admitted with a sinister smile on her face.

“We killed your fan boy lover” you admit. The psychotic couple turns and gives you a confused look. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Is there a problem? I thought we were confessing our body counts” you say while laughing. “Sorry did I kill the mood? Please continue.” You say motioning for them to continue their story. They roll their eyes and scoff Priscilla grabs Poel by the neck and ungags him.

“Why'd you let her take you home dumbass?” You ask Poel. “Well aren’t you intriguing” Priscilla replies. “You’re not the dumbass I was talking to” you snap back making Poel stifle his laughter he was still tied with with his hands behind his back. “I thought she’d at least be scared, after all we’ve threatened her and her boyfriend’s life” Daniel says. You don’t even bother correcting him that Poel isn’t your boyfriend. “I got my heart broken today. I don't have time for your lover's bullshit” you say.

Daniel revealed that he’s married to Priscilla Priscilla Rivera and they got married in this very building. “Well congratulations on your marriage I’m so happy for the two of you” you say sarcastically. Making the psychotic couple laugh at your remark. “You see killing is our kink” Priscilla says, sliding the knife down Daniels chest. “You see I didn’t ask nor do I care.” You say rolling your eyes causing Poel once again to stifle his laughter.

“Don’t get smart with me bitch” Daniel says. “We got lucky that you and I share the same initials otherwise we would’ve been caught” Priscilla says to Poel as she drags her knife tracing his facial features with the sharp tip. “We aren’t a couple so let us go” you tell them.

“Oh we know but your chemistry is better than any of the couples we’ve ever killed we just couldn’t resist the urge to kill you two” “now pick up the gun you have two choices if you truly aren’t a couple and you don’t love him then kill him and you’re free to go but if you love him you can save him by killing yourself” the killers demand guving you no choice but to comply.

You pick up the gun slowly and aim it right for Poel’s head with a smile on your face “looks like I’ll have to pick you” you raise the gun above poels head adjusting your aim and shooting Priscilla in her hip.

“Did you really think I’d shoot him?” You say laughing Poel takes it as an opportunity to knock Daniel off his feet you quickly run to untie him. “I swear I totally thought you were going to shoot me for a sec” he says “I wanted to a few times but I’d never” you say.

Poel gets dragged away by Daniel and Priscilla has you by the throat breaking up your heartfelt reunion with Poel. “I want you to watch as the love of your life takes his last breaths” Priscilla says as her grip tightens around your throat holding you in place. Leaving you only able to watch in fear hoping Poel will be ok. Poel is knocked to the ground by Daniel; he's struggling to break free from the attack. Poel finds an arrow in Daniels pocket as he attempts to push him off he quickly grabs it and stabs it straight into Daniels eye. Resulting in Daniel standing up yelling out in horror alerting his wife Priscilla as he stumbles in a table holding candle wax knocking it all over him.

Priscilla is shocked and angry; she lets go of her grip on your throat which gives you an opportunity to kick her feet out from under her, making her fall and hit her head. You grab a piece of broken plywood and stab it into her side. She kicks you, knocking you into the floor as she stands up, snatching your hair and pulling you to stand. You tack the opportunity and run pushing her into the statue behind her. The statue's sword stabs straight into her and begins to hear her choking on her own blood gasping for air as she takes her last breath.

David springs back to life charging straight for you, Poel quickly grabs the gun from early and shoots him in the end Daniels body hits the floor with a loud thud. Finally their killing spree is put to an end as Poel goes over to double check that Daniel is dead.

“It gets your blood pumping, doesn't it?” Poel says excitedly. “Yeah it does, I just hope we don’t end up with the same kink…” you joke. “I swear we’re gonna have one hell of a therapy bill” Poel jokes back, making you laugh as you both hear sirens approaching in the distance."Don't you have anything to say to me?" Poel says dropping the gun to the floor.

“This will sound crazy especially after the night we just had you know almost getting killed not once, or twice, but three times but I fell in love with you I realized that when I panicked about the thought of you being gone I was scared I’d lose you” reader dialogue “I’ve liked you for a long time, I swear eventually I was gonna confess but there was never a right time” Poel confesses. You two share your first kiss in the Chapel surrounded by a scene only found in horror movies.

One year later, you and Poel return to the couples drive-in movie.

“Look, don’t freak out,” Poel says, pulling out a key from his pocket. “I want you to move in with me after the year we had. I don't wanna be apart” he says. “Poel of course I’ll move in with you” you say happily giving him a kiss on the cheek leaving him blushing.

You receive a sinister prank call putting it on speaker for Poel to hear. “I’m watching you, did you really think it was over” the distorted voice on the other end says before quickly hanging up. You and Poel look at each other knowing you that it isn’t over it’s just begun.

Rolling credits in 5,4,3,2,1…

Dedications: @bfwooin @dzvelinaskebiyars

Wooin, Hyuk, Joker, Vinny, Juwon, Oliver, Michele, Owen, & Chris are next! Should I add Bale?

[odoraful]

𝑰𝑰: 𝑳-𝑶-𝑽-𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑳𝑳𝒀

xiao follows through with baizhu's advice and realises a lot more about his own feelings for you

⟡ part I: doctor, doctor!

⟡ content — xiao x gn!reader ; first love/confession ; perhaps a tad bit sad at the start but it gets better i swear!! ; zhongli and hu tao appearance ; xiao was oblivious in the first part, but he definitely isn't in this one hehe ; both of you are yearners for each other ; 4.3k words

⟡ a/n — finally finished!! i posted doctor, doctor in february and it's now may... omg i'm so sorry my lovelies for the wait 💔 i was a little sleepy when editing but anyway i really hope it's a good continuation :')

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In the past, Xiao would have never thought being bad at talking to be a disadvantage. He was once taught that it was a slower way of resolving things compared to the pointy end of his spear. Now, he silently wished he could speak with ease. Like the honeyed tales Zhongli could weave, or the precise lectures of Cloud Retainer. Xiao’s words were always blunt and rather clunky. And it didn’t help his speech if you were in his presence too.

Speak to Y/N about how they’ve been feeling, Baizhu had recommended. He had agreed so quickly in the moment because it sounded easy. Of course he could ask you, he had spoken to you dozens of times before. This time was no different, in fact, this was right in his repertoire: making sure you were in good health. Yet, with you standing beside him by the balcony at Wangshu Inn, his tongue became all tied up. Maybe it was the way the breeze toyed with your hair, your eyes glittered, or skin glowed in the morning light. The sight of you made all his words fizzle out.  

Archons, what has come over me? he wondered.

You turned to face him. He quickly tore his gaze away.

“What did you want to talk about, Xiao?”

Your question was to be expected. He was the one who had mentioned he needed to speak to you about something (which was the exact reason the two of you were standing out here). Yet, it still left him somewhat flustered.  

He kept his gaze on the vast landscape of Liyue—a brilliant canvas of yellows and greens.  “I wanted to tell you that you needn’t hide secrets from me,” he said.

You cocked your head to the side. “Secrets?” he was met with the sound of your light chuckle. “Do you think I’m living a double life or something?”

Xiao glanced to his side at you. It was enough to see you wiggling your fingers at him as you continued to tease, “Maybe I’ve secretly been a Fatui agent this whole time.”

He shook his head. “What I mean to say is… you can speak to me about anything. I know well that emotions can be confusing, but I will always try to understand them.”

Though Xiao seldom followed along with your joking remarks, he always replied to them in his own dry manner that you enjoyed. However, this time there was a seriousness to his words that caught your attention. Emotions? Confusing? Your chest grew tight as you straightened your back.

“Xiao, I wouldn’t hide anything from you,” you answered, genuinely.

Sensing your own concern, he faced you fully. “I know, but something has been different recently.”

Shouldn’t such trust and closeness between people mean being able to talk to them about anything? Both the good and the bad? Xiao was prepared to shoulder any of that weight for you. He reached for your hand that wrapped the railing of the balcony, encasing your fingers beneath his.

“Tell me what has been troubling you, please.”

It came out as a plea. Small and anguished. You had never heard Xiao sound like this before. And it was because of you.

There was only one thing you had been keeping from him. Something (or someone) that had been on your mind for a longer time that you cared to admit.

“Nothing’s been wrong,” you still denied, ignoring the open warmth that radiated from his hand into yours. A silent invitation from him to you. 

“I won’t accept that,” he responded gruffly. “It is bad to keep your emotions… bottled up.”

Xiao echoed the metaphor Baizhu used when they met. The mortal expression had sounded unusual when he first heard it, but now he understood—corking up emotions for too long can lead to spoiling.

“When you’re with me, you appear tense. If I am the one causing your trouble—”

“No!” you exclaimed, leaning in towards him. “W-well, yes, maybe. I-it’s complicated.”

What am I doing!? you thought. His touch was too hot. You pulled your hand back, fidgeting with your fingers, not knowing what else to do in your embarrassment. If Xiao had been offended, there was no hint of it on his face, only worry as he let his empty hand fall to his side.  

“Complicated? If there is a reason why, I will listen.”

You tilted your head upwards, staring off into the endless blue above, as if calling upon the Heavenly Principles themselves to give you strength and confidence.

You exhaled a breath.

This was it. The time to confess and be done with it.

“Xiao, I like you.”

The words you spoke felt foreign on your tongue. To be fair, you never thought they would ever come to light.

Every miniscule sound became too loud in the silence between you two. Your thrumming heart in your ears. The chatter of people echoing from below. The wind rustling through the golden leaves above.

Anticipating a greater reaction, you were surprised to see Xiao’s face remained neutral. Only a slight frow in his brows.

“I like you as well...” he said, carefully though obviously confused.

“No, no,” you shook your head, sighing deeply, “for me, it’s in a different way. I like you as more than just friends.”  

At your clarification of the distinction, Xiao’s eyes widened.

He had spent enough time observing people to know of romantic affiliations. Though, he never realised it could be directed at himself. Strangely, something within him stirred hearing you. A tether. A want. However, it seemed locked away in an unfamiliar space of his heart, collecting dust. Whether he intentionally cast such desires aside himself long ago, he could not say. Reciprocate, whatever inside him seemed to call out. But his old habits stifled such new feelings, knowing the hardship of entwining yourself too closely with others. His own karmic debt tainting all those who came near.

You saw the change in his reaction—knowing that he understood what you meant now—and hurried before he could say anything else.

“I can’t pinpoint when it started, but I know I’ve liked you for a long time, and that’s the reason I’ve been so jittery lately.”

You recalled his strong grip when he caught you from falling and his words of concern in your home accompanied by his gentle touch. You decided not to divulge too much of the private thoughts you had in those moments.

For all your previous hesitations, the words now seemed to uncork and flow freely out of you. “And I know people may see you as abrasive or unfriendly, but you have shown me just how caring you are so, so many times and every time I can’t help but like you more and more.”

Xiao remained motionless, processing everything. He was locked with parted lips and wide eyes staring into your avoidant gaze. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to reply to you. He just didn’t know how. The tether in his heart begged him to speak, but his lips might as well have been glued together.

“Please don’t answer me yet,” you spluttered. “I know what you’re going to respond with…”

There was a sad finality in your tone that struck him. You knew Xiao did not like you in the same way. He had expressed before his affections towards you as only friends. All the little gestures he did, no matter how fluttering, could not be interpreted as anything else, you believed.

You looked at him properly for the first time since your confession. “I want some time to prepare myself before I hear from you. Is that okay?”

Xiao nodded, finding the strength to move his body when his mouth failed him. “I-I would like some time to think, as well,” was all he could reply, his voice ragged.

He also needed to sort through his own tangled mess of thoughts. Figure out whatever in Celestia he was feeling inside. Emotions truly were confusing.

You gave a small smile. Meant to be a sign of reassurance for him that you were not so troubled anymore, but the wobbled corners of your lips perhaps betrayed that. “Alright, we’ll speak soon.”

You turned away from the balcony’s edge. Xiao watched as your figure disappeared down the steps and out of his sight.

One question had been answered, but it had left many, many more for him to understand.

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The consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour had experienced much of life (and had an eclectic set of memories to show for it). He did not shy away from unknowns as they would eventually become facts to him through reading a scroll passed down through a family’s generations, listening to the slightly drunken tales of a wizened sailor, or any other method of storytelling that he had the honour of encountering. And because of his wealth of knowledge, Xiao decided to meet with him.

Zhongli was inside Funeral Parlour. Not at the front desk, which the Ferrylady was currently standing behind, sorting through a ledger, but to the side in a waiting area. There were shelves filled with all manner of books and oddities, and comfortable seats for clients who generally needed to seek relief. Zhongli was drawing a finger against the spines of each book, wondering whether the collection needed updating, when the door to the Parlour creaked opened.

“Xiao! It’s lovely to see you,” Zhongli welcomed, surprise filling his face.

Xiao closed the door behind him gently, his eyes landing on Zhongli by the shelves. Recognising who the adeptus was, the Ferrylady simply nodded in acknowledgement, leaving the pair to catch up.

“Had I expected you, I would have provided more fitting refreshments,” Zhongli commented. “Here. Have some tea, if you wish.”

Xiao nodded in thanks as he was poured a cup of jasmine tea. He waited for Zhongli to be seated down first before he followed.

It had never been difficult for Zhongli to read Xiao. The distracted gaze, shoulders somewhat bowed, hands clasped in his lap. It was like Xiao was just another book on the Funeral Parlour’s shelves. Zhongli raised the cup of tea to his mouth, peering at the young adeptus from the rim before taking a sip.

“You seem... troubled. Is something the matter?”

Xiao watched the steam rise lazily from his teacup. Of course, Zhongli could easily pinpoint what was happening with him. Lingering emotions from the conversation Xiao had with you three days before bubbled up. It still felt surreal to him that it all happened.

“Yes, there has been something troublesome,” he admitted. “Y/N... told me that they liked me.”

Zhongli stilled his movements. You were no stranger to him. Naturally, he knew of many residents in Liyue, and he had also assisted you with his expertise in the past for commissions with the Guild. Now, he would never go so far as to say spying, but he also wouldn’t deny that he kept a special eye on you. Your close relationship with the young adeptus was something he was pleased to see blossom. Which was why it was confusing to see Xiao so unsettled in telling him the news of your confession.

Zhongli gave a comforting smile, placing his cup back on the table. “Y/N has confessed to you? I scarcely believe that that would be troublesome, but rather exciting.”

Xiao could only give a grunt in response.

Detecting this internal conflict, Zhongli lowered his voice, “Well, how do you feel about them?”

“I-I don’t know, which is the root of my problem.” A frustrated sigh escaped the yaksha. His mind was in all manner of disarray. “How do you know if your feelings for someone are different?”

Your words echoed in his head—as more than just friends.

“By different, are you perhaps referring to love?”

Zhongli’s pointed emphasis on the final word made Xiao redden. Again, he was not unfamiliar with the idea of romance. He had seen it in the streets of Liyue Harbour, from the young, sheepish sweethearts to the old, contented couples. Xiao had believed himself unworthy of it. But now, hearing the word spoken aloud, that wanting tether within him pulled again.

At Xiao’s sudden shyness at love being brought up, Zhongli had to stifle a chuckle. Still so new to the world, he thought.

“You know I cannot speak for your feelings, Xiao, but judging from how you came to me, it does seem there is more to your affections than what you first believed,” he observed.

Xiao ruffled his hair with his gloved hand. Zhongli was right. There was something more with you. There always had been.

“At rest, I have always sensed my karmic debt,” Xiao said. “But, since meeting them, the pain has lessened. I feel peaceful.”

The endurer of eons knowing peace. It felt foolish for Xiao to say, but it was the truth. He had never known safety and warmth to be with another person until you. His past had locked away these comforts from him, but the dust collected from forgotten emotions now seemed to blow away.

“Is this truly...” the word choked up in his throat. Zhongli had said it so easily before (even with the tiniest hint of amusement), but the word had not yet found its rightful place in his vocabulary yet.

“Why must this be so difficult...” Xiao instead groaned.

Zhongli gazed fondly at the young adeptus. “It is your first time. Do not be so harsh on yourself.”

He began to muse aloud. Xiao watched on, letting the sentences Zhongli weaved take hold. “Love enters each of our lives in many ways. Someone’s presence can come swinging like a sledgehammer, unexpectedly knocking us off our feet.”

With a knowing smile, Zhongli continued, “Or... it can be more subtle, like a pebble dropped into a still pool of water, rippling the surface from the centre outward.”

Xiao looked down at his filled cup of tea. Ripples. That was exactly it. Unassuming how you entered his life, and how impactful your stay had been. Finally, he took a sip of his tea, finding it less bitter than he would usually taste.

“Thank you for your guidance, as always.”

Zhongli laughed, “You needn’t be so formal, Xiao. I’m pleased you sought me out. Though, I do hope you come visit me again with some good news.”

Xiao nodded, albeit bashfully.

The old companions continued with the conversation. Largely, Zhongli tried to get Xiao to speak more about you. He knew full well that chance to be young and hopeless in love had been robbed from Xiao for centuries. So, with each short response Xiao gave about you between stutters, the redness never leaving his face, Zhongli was left more than satisfied.

After a short while, Xiao said goodbye, going back out to fulfil his duties with a newfound lightness. As he closed the door behind him, a shrill voice exclaimed from the stairs leading to the second floor of the Funeral Parlor.

“Was that the Conqueror of Demons?!”

Hu Tao had her hands on her hips, looking expectantly at her consultant.

“It was. You’ve just missed him, unfortunately,” Zhongli replied, leaning back in his chair.

The funeral director hurried down the steps, standing directly in front of his seat. “Oh, come on, you could have totally interrupted my meeting to have me say a quick hello!”

Zhongli gave a disagreeing hum. “We both know that you don’t enjoy funeral business being interrupted.”

Hu Tao puckered her lips and blew air out, creating a trill sound. Of course, Mr Zhongli was correct in saying that, but she was just making a joke! She slipped in the chair Xiao was just in, crossing her legs.

“So, why did Xiao swing by anyway?” she then gasped, “Is there new clientele?”

Zhongli shook his head, a smile playing at his lips.

“I’m not sure you would believe me if I told you.”

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You had always left the invitation open for Xiao to visit your home if he wished for a change of scenery. Though Wangshu Inn was gorgeous (and you would do anything to wake up to a view like that every day) there was still some charm to the quaint housing on the outskirts of the Harbour that you knew he would enjoy. All you asked for is that he did not teleport directly into your house unless you were in some peril, which he would know when his named was called. For every other time, however, he would have to knock before he could come in.

There was no peril here, but you did need to see him. Desperately. It had been three days, and your insides had stopped roiling since confessing. You were only left with preparedness now at hearing his answer. No matter how hard you tried to suppress it, there was a small part of you that hoped. Hoped Xiao might have a sudden change in his affections and realise he saw you as more than his friend.

You closed your eyes and steadied yourself.

You opened your mouth, beginning to say his name—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sudden noise pulled your focus away.

You weren’t expecting anyone at this time. Perhaps it was your elderly neighbour passing over some food she made, or a salesman looking to find customers for his wares. Frowning in the direction of your front door, you walked over and opened it ajar, just enough so you could see who was standing there.

You hadn’t even said his name, yet he knew he needed to come.

Familiar dark-greenish hair framing the amber eyes of a once harsh gaze, now softened since the day he met you. His chest puffed up and down, as if he had just run from somewhere. He looked at you like your parting had been years and not just a handful of days.

Your hand slipped from the handle, letting the door swing open fully.

“Xiao?” his name fell from your lips.

This was a very rare occasion where Xiao hadn’t thought things out fully before executing a plan. All he knew was that he needed to see you as soon as his meeting with Zhongli concluded.

“Hello,” he swallowed, composing himself. “I would have come sooner, but you instructed that I do not use my powers—”

“I know, unless I’m in grave danger,” you finished. “Thank you for knocking.”  

His politeness despite everything brought a small laugh from you as you spoke. It was a moment of your liveliness that Xiao took to like a moth to a flame, fluttering with desire.

You stood aside, allowing him to enter. The last time he was here he was convinced that you were ill and, quite innocently, wanted to nurse you to good health. Now, he knew the true reason for those symptoms and had come to an understanding of his own.

His boots tapped against the wooden floorboards of your home, and he came to a stop in front of you. Neither of you wanted to sit down, too filled with mirrored jumble of anxiety and hope.

“I have my answer,” he said.

He had never known his nerves to be this weak until now. His palms were sweaty beneath the fabric of his gloves, and his breath constricted. He can’t have imagined the amount of courage it took for you to have done the same thing.  

“Alright,” you folded your arms across your chest to bury your sinking heart. Even in matters like this, Xiao still got straight to the point. “I’m ready to hear it.”

Xiao flexed his hands at his side, trying to ground himself.

Although he could never paint flowery words with his speech, there was one thing he could always rely on—his bluntness.

“I-I love you.”

...

Oh.

This certainly had to be a dream.

A dream where the man you like just said that he loves you.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice raw and gravelly.

Did he say it in a strange way? Xiao silently cursed himself looking at how motionless you were, hands falling to your side. He knew he should have practiced it aloud beforehand.

“Was that... wrong of me to say?”

Your head spun. Delirious laughter almost spilled from you.

What he had just said was the furthest from wrong. Any small hope that remained in you unfurled and bloomed brilliantly.

"This... isn’t a dream, right?” you whispered.

Xiao moved closer.

“No, it isn’t.”

This had to be real, otherwise, why did his hand feel so warm as it brushed against yours? His fingers gently took your hand. It was the only proof he could offer that this wasn’t a dream. That he was here, and his words were true.

“You love me? Really?” you had to confirm again.

“I do.” He did not waver in his answer, “I do love you. I should have realised it sooner.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The urge to cry became more tempting each time Xiao repeated that he was in love with you.

“I-I was sure you weren’t going to feel the same way,” you sniffed.

His chest seized up hearing your voice shake.

He recalled a fleeting memory. Resting beneath a shaded tree, dappled light cast across his face as conversation drifted through the air. The commotion from four others whose voices he could never forget for as long as he lived. They were speaking about falling in love once the war was over, how it would feel like when love found them. Peace in these lands must be achieved first, one had said. To which one commented what a buzzkill that was, which was followed by laughter from the others. Perhaps Xiao should have listened more closely to learn something then, rather than closing his eyes, letting the sound lull him.

“I... have little experience or knowledge of these things. These distinctions are quite new to me.” Xiao held your hand tighter. His pale cheeks dusted with pink. “Speaking with someone else helped me understand what my feelings for you meant.”

He was so close once again. Yet, you didn’t freeze up like before, afraid of revealing your hidden affections. Instead, you melted into his touch, adjusting your grip to feel more of him. There was nothing to hide between the two of you anymore.

“I’m sorry for making you uneasy for so long,” he quietly added.

“You don’t have to apologise, I’m not angry at all.”

Relief washed over him. There was even a smile on your face. Bright and warm and enveloping him like the morning sun. Playfully, you swung his arms back and forth.

“In fact, I’m really, really happy right now,” a chuckle accompanied your words.

Xiao’s lips curved into a smile too seeing you in higher spirits. “I am glad. To be honest, I feel much... lighter.”

Weightless, even. The taut desire he felt three days ago when you confessed had eased. He had gotten the courage to tug and pull on that tether until he was standing here with you in his arms.

“I think I have loved you for a long time but never believed myself to be worthy of it. You are too good natured and kind, and if something happened to you because of me,” he closed his eyes, unable to even stand the very idea, “I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

You had never once thought Xiao could hurt you. Even in the beginning when you met, though he was coarse as gravel, he always remained attentive. There was much of his past that left painful memories and only fed him sorrow and doubt. Despite it all, however, he still had a soft heart.

You reached out a hand, grazing your fingertips against his cheek.

“Xiao…”

His eyes fluttered open hearing his name being called so sweetly under your hushed breath.

“Can I hug you?” you asked. “Usually this is the part where people would hug each other.”

He nodded, burning to hold you as well. You encircled your arms around his chest, entwining your fingers behind his back. He wrapped his own hands at your waist and pulled you in, your body flush with his, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Your breath tickled Xiao’s ear as you tucked your chin by his shoulder. Both of your heartbeats drummed with ineffable tenderness. It almost dazed him how much content swelled inside. He knew now why so many couples liked to hug.

Xiao was the first to lean back to look at you again. You were struck by this intensity of his eyes, seemingly lost with desire. Before you could think of anything else, your chin was tilted upwards.

Then, his lips were on yours.

You didn’t think Xiao could surprise you twice in such a short time.

The kiss was soft, like a falling petal brushing against skin. How much time had passed? Seconds, minutes, hours? You couldn’t tell. All you could focus on was the warmth from his lips and the shiver that it caused up your spine. This time, you were the first to pull away. Your cheeks were hotter than probably any of the springs in Natlan.

“How did you—” you stuttered.

Xiao cleared his throat. The spell he was just under seeming to disappear as he blinked away from your gaze, his blush intensifying. “I’ve seen many couples in the city do it. I-It just felt right to do.”

Shyly, he added, “Was that alright?”

He had a habit of second guessing himself when it came to his affections. Luckily, you were someone who was more than happy to give reassurance.

“It was more than okay,” you beamed. “It was perfect.”

You both stayed like this a moment longer, your hands around his back and his on your waist. Xiao spoke of meeting with Baizhu and Zhongli, which displayed a commitment to you that was far too endearing for your heart to handle.

There would be good news indeed when the time came to tell your companions what happened.

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⟡ taglist (hello lovelies!! thank you again for your patience 🥹🫶 i've never tagged people before so i hope this works) — @sizzles-z-4002 @redninjakitty14rp @butterescapism @fuyustuffs @unstablemiss @evilenbypotato

[solitaryearthperson]

The Wolf of Zaun

Summary: You've been acting weird around Sevika and she wants to know why.

(The reader is gender-neutral and is 18+. The ethnicity/race is preferably Black/POC.)

Y/F/N = Your Friend's Name

"What the hell is wrong with you," Sevika asked, frowning in confusion. She had just woken up, and already you were sitting up in bed next to her, staring at her with an excited grin on your face.

"What do you mean?" You asked, trying to control your nervousness and excitement at your surprise for her.

"I mean you've been creepy lately and you've been acting like you're hiding a secret. So spill. What's wrong with you?"

The first sign that you were up to something was the questions you kept asking Sevika the last week. It wasn't uncommon for you to ask her about her personal life, seeing as you two have been dating for a while now, but the questions kept getting more peculiar.

"When's your birthday?"

"What's your zodiac sign?"

"What's your favorite animal?"

"Why don't you wear more jewelry? Do you not like it?"

"Are you allergic to silver, gold, or anything else?"

She tried to answer as many as she could truthfully, but sometimes she chose to leave some questions unanswered, hoping you would drop it.

Then came the second sign. Your absences. As a councilor, Sevika tended to come home later than usual, and usually you would be there to greet her. The few times you weren't, it was because you were visiting a friend or at the market, and even then, you would soon arrive home after Sevika. Lately, you seemed to be gone for almost hours, leaving Sevika worried about what you were up to. When you finally did arrive, you would claim that you and your friend had lost track of time or there was a commotion in the city that caused you to take a different route home. After years of working for Silco and dealing with the worst of the worst criminals, Sevika instantly knew that you were lying, but she chose to keep it to herself, hoping that you would eventually confess to what you were secretly doing.

Then came the last sign, which was surprisingly, the weirdest one. Over the past few days, whenever Sevika decided to glance your way, she would find you already staring at her. At first she thought it was an admiring-type of stare, but she soon began to be creeped out by how intense your gaze was. If you were anyone else, she would have already snapped at you, but instead she chose to simply ignore it, hoping it would eventually stop. You were her first real relationship, and she knew that she had to put up with your weird quirks, but these were beginning to weird her out more and more.

"Well," you began, reaching under your pillow and grabbing the long, dark box you've been hiding there. "I have something for you."

"You do?" Raising her eyebrows, she sat up as well and looked at you suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Well...it's a gift that I got you," you started, your voice slightly shakey as you took the box from under the pillow and presented it to her. "I wanted to wait to give it to you for your birthday, but someone won't tell me their birthday or even hint at what month its in." You look pointedly at her.

"Cuz its not important-"

"It is to me, but that's not the point," You shook your head, ignoring her insistence on keeping her birthday a secret from you, and decided to open the box, hoping that she would love it.

A long few seconds of silence passed and looking at Sevika's face, you couldn't tell whether or not, she liked it.

"Sevika? Do you like it? Hate it? Sevika?" You could feel your heart beating hard in your chest, nervous about what her answer would be.

The gift was a silver necklace with two small custom figurines at the end of it. One was a figurine of a wolf howling and the other was a capital 'Z' hanging on the end of it. You had hoped that Sevika would love it, but her silence had begun to make you nervous.

Unbeknownst to you, the former henchwoman could feel a range of emotions welling inside her that she had never felt before. She didn't know whether to hug you, kiss you, hold you down to the bed and never let you go, or just simply cry.

"Sevika?" You called her name again, taking the necklace out of the box and holding it out in your palm, unsure what to do with it as she stayed silent.

"Why?" Sevika tried to control the trembling in her voice, hoping you won't notice it, and blinked her eyes hard to keep any tears from falling.

"Why?"

"Why did you-When did you do this?" Sevika cleared her throat and tried to hold back her emotions.

"Oh...um...well me and (Y/F/N) kept trying to figure out whether to get you a bracelet or a necklace. Then when we decided on a necklace, we had to figure out what to have at the end of it. Then after, we had to find a jeweler that we could afford to make it, and it took them a little while to make." At the end of your ramble, you could see her gray eyes welling up with tears and your heart began to beat even faster in your chest at the sight, fearful that she hated it. "I can take it back, and-"

"No!" She suddenly yelled, reaching forward and taking the necklace out of your hand, holding it as delicately as she could. "Don't. I fucking love it!" She couldn't hold them back anymore, and suddenly tears began to run down her face.

"Oh, Sev," you cooed, pulling her towards you and wrapping your arms around her.

"I love you, so much," she sniffled, nuzzling her face into your neck. She had never received a gift like this from anyone and she already decided that she was going to wear it every single day.

"I love you, too, Sev," you replied, hugging her tighter.

It was quiet for a second before she pulled away, and immediately you began to miss the warmth of her body.

"Why a wolf and the letter 'Z'," she asked, sniffling, holding the necklace in her metal hand and wiping her face with the flesh one.

" 'Z' is for Zaun since you speak for Zaun as a councilor, and the wolf is because you're a protector and you're loyal. Like a wolf. You love and protect those around you." You hadn't realized your gaze had drifted toward the hand that was holding the necklace, and when you looked up, you were shocked to see a rare sight; a huge bright smile on her face. It was so beautiful you couldn't help smiling in return.

Smiling back, Sevika wished she could voice her love for you, but in that moment, all the Zaunite could think about was how soon she could put a ring on your finger.

[your-nanas-house]

Can you do cage sex with Joe??? He kidnaps you and then sexy stuff happens in the cage but at the end you realize he really isn't ever going to let you go? Thank you I LOVE your Joe fics

Yessss. Omg, thank you ♡ Sorry it took me so long 😭

Glass cage

◇ Pairing: Joe Goldberg x fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, Joe being Joe, kidnapping, glass cage, lies

◇ Summary: Y/n tries to escape by seducing Joe.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

Her head had hit the glass in frustration, the cold surface pressed against the warmth of her cheek. She had been locked since days now and started to get used to the routine.

Waiting, receiving, waiting, suffering, receiving.

She had been stuck in the waiting phase since probably hours, her hopes pretty low to see Joe enter the basement. But not zero.

The door opened, and a glimmer of light appeared on the dusty stairs. His footsteps were slow, he probably was carrying something with him as he made his way downstairs.

"Joe!" The young woman quickly beamed, pressing her hands against the glass in hope to see what the man was doing. To ease her heartbeat and fear.

Was he there to feed her again? Bring her a book? Good news? Free her?... hopefully.

"I brought you some more paper so you won't be out of it for your book. How is your writing going so far?" His voice filled the basement, making her tired mind realize she wasn't alone anymore. With all the time spent on her own and the continued planning to escape, she started to cope a bit to protect her from what was happening.

"Thank you.... yes, I've been writing some pages, but I'm stuck. I feel so lonely and guilty... for the way I treated you. You were just doing it for me, to protect me and help me, and I was just so...." Y/n stopped her voice, cracking during her lie. She really hoped that the bookseller wouldn't notice and just go along with what she was confessing.

Hopefully freeing her.

But of course, it wasn't that simple. His face mirrored a mix of confusion, uncertainty and hope. His doe brown eyes staring intently at her figure waiting for her to continue.

"Ungrateful. I'm sorry for that, Joe... I miss you, miss having you close.. I miss your cock" she whispered, pressing her body against the glass with a fake desperate facade.

The man in front of her was a complex instrument, a couple of wrong buttons and the symphony would change into a horrible thing. But with the right ones everything could go for the best.

"Could you ever forgive me? Please, Joe. We could starts everything from the beginning. Buy a house with a white fence, get a dog... kids" her tone got more pleading and soft, tears welling up in her eyes as a soft smile appeared on her face.

Joe didn't speak yet, his eyes following her as he looked up with hope and "love". His chest felt suddenly warm and everything felt right in his point of view. His slender fingers played with the keys, searching the right one so unlock the door.

His guard seemed still up as he opened it carefully, stepping inside and closer to her.

His expression was mimicking a puppy's one, his soft gaze piercing in hers as he hesitantly approached as if he thought he was in a dream. It wasn't a dream, though.

Y/n was still locked and was playing a dangerous game. A bad move and she could end up even worse, maybe six feet under.

"I'm so glad you can finally see it. We are meant to be, we always have... since you walked in the bookshop." He rambled out, his hands rested shakily on her hips to pull her into a hug. Their bodies flush against each other, fabric rubbing softly together as their perfumes mixed together.

A hesitant look up to meet his brown eyes and their lips were locked in a kiss. A kiss that seemed now almost foreign, different from the ones they shared before the disaster. It was needy, passionate yet tender and vulnerable just like Joe's touch.

The door was still open, just leaned, a clear message of possible freedom. The mere thought was enough to inject adrenaline in Y/n's veins, her lips moving more fiercely against his. One of her hands tangled in his brown curls while the other started to unbutton his shirt. She dreamed about freedom, she couldn't bear staying in that glass cage for any longer.

Her hands worked quickly on his belt, unbottoning and unzipping, before moving her hand in them. Her palm pressed against his hardening crotch, causing the man to whimper in pleasure.

His brown eyes flattered shut for a moment as to take in the sensation of having her hand again on him.

"Always wondered how—" Y/n started, shutting herself when her lips pressed against Joe's. Her movements increased in speed, stroking now his erection through the soft fabric of his underwear. Meanwhile his hand had slipped in her pants as well, rubbing her clit as he peppered kisses wherever he could.

It didn't take much time for the man to squirm and move her hand away, already too close to the climax. They hadn't fucked in a while and Joe wanted it to be more than 8 seconds or a couple of minutes, nutting on her hand like a teenager. He wished to be inside her, feel her, trust her.

In little time Y/n's face was against the cold glass of the cage, legs spread as Joe's cock kept thrusting between her folds. His hands pressed hers against the surface as he kept grunting in her ear, repeating as a mantra 'I love you' when he reached his climax.

And... then the door got locked again. Locking her there again.

"Joe?" Y/n's voice broke, her eyes wide as she watched him, now fully dressed. His brown watery eyes pierced hers as he smiled goofily, hearth beating like crazy.

[soo-won]

Nobody is asking Yona to sacrifice herself or stay with the dragons forever. That's not why ppl are upset with her imo. What's disappointing was that when the gods say Kouka would turn into hell, we didn't saw any hesitation in her. She could've argued w them or showed some determination like: "hey, I won't let you play with me or my country no matter how hard you try" something she did while zeno was trying to kill himself. But no she's like oh hell sounds fun as long as I'm with my family. She even hesitated when Hak's life seems at stake. So what does it mean? And there's is a difference between her running away from the gods vs Suwon not depending on the gods. She's ok to enjoy the blessings but when it comes to pay back, she's running away. Yona acted like a selfish brat like she used to be in the castle, which is disappointing if we consider her development in the past

I'm not gonna lie in this case I feel like people are just looking for something to be mad at her. Like, in chapter 257, I was more bothered by Yona not hesitating because the consequences of that decision were 100% assured and known : all the dragons of the past waiting and suffering in vain until the current generation. And the whole time paradox twist was a lot to process and swallow in a few pages, that Yona's reaction felt sudden too. I wanted to see her hesitate then because I was affected as a reader by the twist that it was technically Yona that made the cycle happen? Even if from her POV it was about not erasing the past like damn that's a lot.

But the circumstances are not the same at all here imo. Yona has been in this chalice for like an entire volume. She tried already to negociate with the gods. It didn't work. They went against their words. They hurt the dragons. She tried everything she could here. They're basically bullying her, they keep tormenting her, she's not getting through them at all. Yona is affected and upset when they tell her about the dragons' limbs. She came here to begin with to save them, she made a deal with the gods that made her stuck inside the chalice against her will but supposedly in exchange of the dragons being freed, and now she realizes that even that failed and that they lost body parts. It's devastating. And Yona looks sick of it. From this point, it's clear to me she realized it's useless trying to get anything from them, because she won't. They're only toying with her and her feelings. All she can do is leave with them and defuse. There's NOTHING she can do more from the heavens, she can't ask the gods to save the dragons and even less protect Kouka.

Yona has been having nightmares about natural disasters and wars breaking out since chapter 257, she's already past hesitating about this too. So I don't mind she doesn't hesitate for it here. Yona in chapter 257 was scared of even falling asleep because she was scared of this future where she's all alone and it's hell everywhere. But she can only stop it by facing it and standing against it. It didn't happen yet, she has to keep her eyes open... She already learned this lesson. As we've seen with Yona protecting Hak from Zeno, her nightmares can be prevented, but this won't be if she stays still in heavens. Staying in a peaceful garden and shivering because intervening outside could cause more problems is much more like Yona of the beginning before her development, than Yona leaving to live in Kouka and fight against problems arising there. Yona was told her existence and actions were a pain that could create more problems at different occasions, and her conviction has always been to make her own place in the world anyways. Before she asks for the gods' divine protection, she should face her own fears and try to do something herself...that's how she always worked. She has always refused to rely on the gods alone.

The motif of living outside and in not the most comfortable place but finding purpose in getting through struggles together has been a thing forever that Yona's reaction about life outside being preferable only seems natural to me. I don't know... Her hesitating here would have felt redundant and would have surprised me. Yona has long ago developed the conviction that she finds more purpose in life in the struggles and difficulties because of all the people reaching out their hand to help, than her peaceful and confined, lonely days in the palace. She always found more purpose in helping people on the ground than to take decisions from above. Even in the castle and south kai arcs it was visible how she wanted to go help prisoners herself, and the way she went to rescue Meinyan shows it well too. I don't want her to hesitate for this. She already said she'd rather live in the mud in chapter 263 too. That's the most Yona thing ever imo, it makes me happy personally. It doesn't need to be said she's concerned for others, and she will keep running to their help to do something with her own hands. I don't need her to hesitate because personally I have no conflicted feeling about the situation and I think Yona is 100% right, here. I have no doubt she is intelligent enough at this point to say this too.

You could argue it would have been better if she had a speech like the one she had in chapter 43, and I can't argue about that (it's true it's very good!). I can understand, I just personally don't need it, because the fact chapter 43 exists is enough in itself to me and the present automatically resonates with it and everything before. I can't be mad at Yona not saying word for word "I'm going to save people struggling outside" because I already know that. I personally don't need that reassurance at this point.

The chapter shows her being concerned for Kouka and everyone on Earth when she flies on Ouryuu's back. Yona always planned to return from the chalice for everyone and everything she left behind on Earth. Of course she's concerned. She wants to bring her friends back from the chalice AND help everyone in Kouka. She promised Yun she would come back with everyone, she planned to return to Suwon too and not abandon her duties as Princess. All these things exist inside of her. Anyways, Yona doesn't need to tell the gods to stop toying with her country like she did with Zeno before too, because the ways things are presented, it seems like it's not like the gods cause this on purpose either? It's a consequence of everything going to shit, and it's also Ouryuu who is on her side talking to her before she says she prefers hell than here. So she doesn't reply angrily, she replies with hope. That's why that page is beautiful too, imo. The gods might not see and understand the value in such a world that Hiryuu and Yona are so fond of. But they can't help but love this messy, "hellish" world. Talking angrily to the gods didn't work in ch263/264 either, so I feel like it was also her trying a different approach when she told them she would live in Kouka maybe? Like she doesn't want to let herself be affected and be upset by them and she simply, intransigently voices her intentions to them?

You say you don't want her to sacrifice herself and stay with the gods forever, but also accuse her of "running away" from the gods and call her a selfish brat for her reactions in this chapter, so I really don't understand your point here. How on earth is Yona supposed to not depend on the gods in this situation but by not making a deal with them? Staying in Heavens, contract done to protect Kouka from doom and ending it at that (because she would be stuck there) would be truly the coward move imo. Yeah she's turning back and trying to get out of Heavens but... it's...good to stop moving forward and further if doing so brings you to extreme loneliness and/or death I think...? I think that's the point...Getting desperate, leaving everything behind and sacrificing more and more of your true wants and isolating yourself has been a pattern that never brought anything good to the characters that tried before. She struggles and things didn't happen as expected, many things are still unresolved, but she can only do so much in this situation. She tried. She tried discussing with the gods, asking them to free the dragons, to let her out. It didn't work, it was a blow on her when they forced her under a sea of flowers, when they tried torturing Zeno, and when she learned the dragons got injured. From that, she adapted and tried to leave. That's it.

I think Yona wavering when they threaten to kill Hak and what it means is pretty simple and is no secret. Yona loves and cares about Hak. Hak is someone important, personal and intimate to her, so obviously she's not unaffected. Yona from the very beginning has been trying to get stronger and do all she could to protect Hak again and again. Losing people dear to her is what scares her more than anything, it always has been so, even if it coexists with her caring about the world around her too. And you know, even if Hak is special to her, I honestly think that if the gods had threatened the lives of the dragons and not only their limbs, Yona would have been affected too. She would have also faltered had they threatened the life of people she doesn't know in the same terms. It's just extra cruel to use Hak in particular against her. It shows again the gods atp are only interested in destroying everything that might be connecting Yona to Earth. It's the exact same form of abuse that Chagol used against Meinyan. It's about isolating her. It's also not really the same as claiming people will die without the gods' divine protection that is more like a potential consequence than a term of a contract like it is at the end of the chapter. She can stand against conflicts outside and protect people there, but what can she do against Hak just, being killed by divine intervention if she doesn't return to heavens (supposedly)? They fucking coerce her here. Maybe it's just bluff, and she should not give a fuck about Hak and still leave. After all, what is one person against the world and her freedom! But well, she cares. She never discarded her loved ones and never compromised Hak and her friends' life. She never compromised the life of anyone really (which is different from sparing and refusing to kill anyone). That's who Yona is. Yona doesn't sacrifice and compromise people's lives, That's why she wants to save everyone AND wants to go home. And that's why she's stuck now. Yona wants to live. But she can't sacrifice someone innocent either, especially not someone she loves. It's the perfect dilemma for her. And that she's forced into it is what is heartbreaking. She shouldn't have to choose. That's why she needs help now.

Bringing up payback like this rubs me a bit in the wrong way...This damn idea of paying back is what has been haunting the narrative for so many years i can't conceive repeating it for Yona too. To me it comes from the same mindset that asks for retribution, punishment and karma for every character that upset Yona in some way or should be grateful and kneel to her and Hak that has been so sickening for so long. I don't want anyone to be forced to pay anything back ever. Every character should get all the help and support they need for free at all times imo. I don't think Yona nor the dragons should have to pay such a harsh price either. Because that's what a blessing is. That's what love and kindness are. That's what wishes are. If the gods really cared for Hiryuu, they wouldn't ask her anything in return, they wouldn't torment her, they wouldn't punish the dragons either. It can just...stop. (Because yes this favor shouldn't be at all to begin with) Which is what Yona wants.

Aren't we so tired of all this "contracts" and "punishment" and "paying back" bullshit by now? I so am. It's exactly what has been ruining the lives of the characters forever and now (and my mental health as a reader lol). She's paying back right now by being in this situation already. And that's not a good thing at all. It's very good narratively though because yeah, they want her to pay back! They make this about contract when she was asking a favor! She's paying the price for her decision in ch257, for ever using the dragons, for entering the chalice as Hiryuu's reincarnation...But it's nothing but sad. There doesn't need to be this payback. That's what the story is exploring. Looking for the dragons to survive (whom she never forced, even if yes they were bound by their contract thing) and protect Hak is not a crime, not erasing the past to save her friends isn't so evil that she deserves to sacrifice herself. Making it end is enough. It may be selfish that yeah she enjoyed the good parts of it until it bothered her but honestly I think it's okay lol. As long as it ends. As long as no one has to pay back anything for doing their best to survive and struggling to protect something. Like Meinyan doesn't need to apologize or to pay back anyone for all she did and was done for her, just like Suwon doesn't need to be even and be punished, like Shinah doesn't need to executed for attacking Suwon, like Zeno doesn't need to be punished for betraying Yona and the ddhhb, etc... Because it's better to look at the bigger picture and at people's circumstances you know...That's how I interpret this arc, at least.

Yona doesn't pay back by sacrificing things, she "pays back" by giving back out of gratitude. That's precisely what she does by doing all she can to save the dragons right now. The dragon warriors gave her so much without ever asking anything back, they saved her from danger and they saved her from despair, she's so grateful and loves them so deeply she wants to bring them happiness too. But Yona can't give the Gods what they want without sacrificing important things to her, and not when they're the way they are now. So she can only leave.

Of course Yona/Hiryuu alone getting this treatment from the gods was always unfair and it shouldn't be at all, especially not at the cost of so many dragons suffering for so long. But well, she did. And when learning how this "favor" was hurting the people around her, she was affected, grieved it in ch253/254, and then she opposed it and tried to stop it in the present. (Also she's been concerned by the dragons' use of their powers for a very long time even if she doesn't go deeper) But the gods don't care. You can blame her for not questioning things more before, I'm critical of this too, I still conflicted about chapter 257 as well, plus everything irt the crimson illness etc but like, she says it, she doesn't want their powers if that's the price. She only wants the human them. She doesn't need the dragons' powers and she doesn't need the gods' protection. When she throws away Hiryuu's sword they give her, it's her rejecting that again. She doesn't want that special power and favor, that's not what she's asking. She wants agency and power, but not at the price of the agency and free will of others. She wants everyone to have normal lives where they can decide things for themselves, to live with their whole free will. That's her development in this arc. I like that she finally faces these things.

Maybe it's just a question of preference, and you might be affected by Yona's reactions in a way I can't relate. But personally I like the chapter this way and I like Yona in it. I don't think she's a selfish brat (god. it's...such a thing to call her honestly it irks me sorry, despite all criticisms I have of her character.) I don't think she doesn't care about Kouka and its people at all. Ive seen people say that too but...Even if yes Yona is still a 16 years old girl with struggles and feelings and still some immaturity which is important to take into account, I don't think she's as childish and inconsiderate as people make her either. People often seem to say her reactions and decisions are emotional and with no reason but I think they're emotional AND with reason, at least here. Yona doesn't say this about Kouka struck by disasters being preferable than Heavens from emotions alone (because yes, she just wants to go home and she genuinely loves the people in Kouka), but also from experience and conviction. They don't cancel each other out. It doesn't make her a hypocrite to have personal interests in it too.

[krystaldeath]

Haha I’ve got. Too many ausssss

But I did think up a new modern one. That follows the og video game plot a bit but Narinder was trapped for 10,000 years and instead of commuting a sheep genocide the bishops make all sheep have to prove every month that they’re not worshiping The One Who Waits and have no intention to free him

[deus-ex-mona]

ok yk what. now that i’ve had some time to process nghy canon, considering the current pacing of gen retcon, i think their next step is as ✨clear as day✨

i really like seeing them happy together, but i truly do think that they should divorce and either live the rest of their lives as single besties; partners in hero/heroine-isms, but better off as just friends, or go their separate ways for a bit and get back together when they’re a little older and wiser, staying together for good this time around, as each other’s first and last boyfriend/girlfriend

[theladyfae]

i think human nature/family of blood is a really good two parter in how it manages to show how full of shit ten is 🫶

[curryshesus]

jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO HAS LOVED YOU SINCE YOU WERE KIDS - HE’S GONNA MAKE YOU HIS ! ❞

✧ series: call it what you want (part one)

✧ pairing: younger!satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo fell in love with you from the moment he met you at eight years old. and now, in his twenties, when he sees you again after you move back to be closer to your aunt and your cousin, suguru, he knows — he has to make you his by the end of the summer.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, eventual smut, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating, gojo is four years younger than you, rich boy!gojo, suguru is your little cousin, very fluffy, slow burn, like they don't even kiss, but they will :), love at first sight for gojo, naoya is your ex,

✧ w/c: 15,285

“Never thought we’d be doing this, did you?” Satoru muttered in your ear, breath fanning hot against your neck, “be a little quieter, sweetheart, otherwise Suguru might hear us,” 

You whine, but his fingers drag against your kiss bitten lips, until the digits slide into your mouth, as his hips rut against yours. And you didn’t think you’d ever be in position with your cousin’s best friend — pressed to the doorway of your apartment where Suguru could walk in at anytime. 

This isn't what you thought would happen when you invited him over to talk. This isn't what you thought would happen when you agreed to pretend to date him. This isn't what you thought about -- but how could you think about anything with the way his breath felt against your skin?

He loved you -- loved you since you were kids, and he couldn't let you go, not like this. Not when he had you.

Not that you even wanted him to.

You didn’t think you’d shiver as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your neck, tongue flicking against your burning skin. You never thought you’d want to moan his name, like you had, far too many times. 

“You may have never thought about this, Princess, but I sure have,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, the wet sounds your skin slapping together, as he reaches around your body, pinned on your stomach to the mattress, to rub at your swollen clit, drawing a muffled cry from your lips, “far too many times,” 

In fact, Satoru Gojo knew exactly the first time he fell for you. It was the day he first met you. 

“Be my girlfriend!” 

It was less of a question and more of a statement.  

One declared in the doorway of your room, with flushed cheeks and flowers in hand. And they weren’t your cheeks or hands, but your baby cousin’s best friend. 

The first time Satoru Gojo asked you out was at the ripe old age of eleven, but truth be told he had held this crush since the moment he saw you when he had come over to Suguru’s house for the first time, almost three years ago now.

Your fingers brushed his as you gently took the flowers, “Satoru, you know I care about you, but not like that. You’re better off seeing other people your own age, ok?” You smiled at him, the same way you always did, a slight pout on his lips as he nodded, saying nothing more. 

And you knew you were right — there was no fucking question that you were right. He was eleven and you were fifteen — an age gap untenable and unreachable.

But now—

“Long time no see,” Satoru said, lips curled in an all too cocky smile that you couldn’t believe belonged to the same blushing kid who confessed so earnestly back then, “it’s been too long,” your name rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that was the same but all too different. 

But he wasn’t a kid anymore — far from it. It had been over a decade since you had seen him, as the summer he confessed was the last one you had spent at your aunt and uncle’s home. And you and your family moved overseas shortly after that, and you didn’t return until now, four years after you graduated college, for a job offer you couldn’t pass up. 

And you didn’t realize that so much time had passed. 

But he did. 

“Eh? What do you mean you can’t help me unpack today, Sugu?” you hold the phone between your ear and shoulder, as you rip open the tape on yet another box you had hauled into the proper room to unpack, “you told me—“ 

“I told you I’d help you unpack if I had time. But now, I’m stuck at work until the evening,” you heard your cousin sigh over the phone, “But don’t worry — you’ll have help—“ 

You’re too busy trying to rip the tape off as you rip into Suguru to notice the door creaking open behind you, “Suguru, I swear to god if you’re sending a total random stranger to help me—“ 

“Not a total stranger,” a voice says behind you, and your head whips around so quick, you nearly drop your phone, gripping it, “unless not seeing me for years makes me one,” 

A mess of white locks and sunglasses tilted downward to reveal a hint of his cerulean eyes that you could never forget — but still, you barely recognize the man that has them. Even if the grin on his lips with the lilting sound of his voice told you that he very much recognized you. 

“Satoru?” Suguru’s explanation falls on deaf ears, as Satoru’s eyes don’t bother to take in your new place, all too focused on you, hands slipping into his pockets, “you—“ 

He steps forward and plucks the phone from your fingers, “Yo Suguru, I told you it’d be better as a surprise,” and you gape at him, as his grin curls wider, “yeah, yeah, I didn’t take the phone to have you lecturing me — I get enough of that from my dad,” and Suguru says something that makes Satoru’s cheeks flush, and he hangs up, before his attention returns to you, “so, shall we unpack?” 

A few minutes turns into hours of hauling boxes inside and then unpacking them. It’s relatively silent, surprisingly for Satoru. The silence was a far cry from the boy who couldn’t shut up for two seconds, telling you about the test he aced or something stupid that one of his classmates said or asking you about your day. 

Instead you watch him haul boxes like they were filled with styrofoam and air from the truck outside, and then lift his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, a flash of his abs shiny with perspiration. Your eyes dart away, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the contents of this box of kitchenware you opened up, cheeks burning, wondering when did the little boy you looked after become a man? 

“Princess, where do you want this?” Satoru lifts a box, and you can’t see the writing on it from the angle he picks it up. 

“Do you still have to call me Princess?” The embarrassing nickname your aunt had given you still stuck — the one that Suguru would always tease you with, while Satoru’s decidedly lacked any malice, “my aunt only called me that because she wanted a girl so bad,” 

“Is that why Suguru is growing out his hair now? Trying to fulfill her dreams?” You snort, as you walk over to him, “it still fits you regardless of the reason Princess,” 

You’re close, even with the box providing glancing around the box until you find it scrawled on the box underneath his arm — his very…muscular arm, veins bulging and muscles tense underneath the weight of the box—

“So this is stuff for my bedroom, you can just leave it on the floor, it’s right over here,” you lead him over and he places down the box, “I think that’s mostly it, I’m sorry Suguru made you come down here to help,” 

“You don’t need to apologize, I wanted to see you,” and you smile softly, “it’s been too long,” 

“It really has,” and your neck strains a little with how he towered over you, “can't believe you’re the same little boy I used to babysit,” 

And he rolls his eyes, “Suguru would say it’s arguable I could still use a babysitter,” and you chuckle, “I’m not so little anymore, but I wouldn’t mind if you were my babysitter,” 

Was he? No. No, he wasn’t. 

Right? 

“Stop fucking around,” you shake your head, as you head into the kitchen, “do you want to wash up, and then maybe I’ll order take out to thank you?” You’re turning on the faucet. 

You don’t notice the slight pout on his lips, one he schools into a smile as you glance back at him, blinking as you find him shirtless. 

Fuck. How was it possible for a person to be this gorgeous? Sweat slid down his body, slipping between the dips of his chest and ridges of his abs until disappearing into the fabric of his pants, or somewhere hidden— 

You look away — “I’d rather take a shower. Do you mind?” And you force your voice not to come out a squeak, busying yourself with washing your hands, just so you don’t have to look. 

“Yeah, of course, the bathroom is just around the corner. There should already be fresh towels inside,” and yet his steps grow closer, as you glance back, “uh—“ 

He’s still fucking shirtless. 

“Instead of take out, can we grab dinner somewhere? You haven’t been back to the area recently so it’s a good chance to show you around,” 

“You really don’t have to—“ 

“I want to, Princess,” he cuts you off, reaching around you to grab a water bottle off the counter, “get ready while I clean up?” 

And you bite your lip, “Okay, okay,” and he grins back, a glimpse of the little boy that beams at you when you’d praise him for a high mark on a test. 

“It’s a date!” And he’s off, disappearing into the bathroom, and you’re left there, wondering — what had you gotten yourself into? 

~~~

“So,” Satoru lifts a spoonful of his dessert — a fruit parfait with a sugar coma inducing amount of whipped cream — and you were almost relieved to see some things about him hadn’t changed. How many times had you scolded him as a kid not to eat so much sugar — and he still hasn’t kicked the habit. You bit back your chuckle, as he spoke, “did you get dumped?” 

You almost choke on your drink, as you splutter for a moment, before glaring at him. 

And yet the more they stayed the same. 

“I see you’re as subtle as you were when you were 11,” you mutter, setting your drink down, as you wipe your mouth with a napkin. Satoru tilts his head, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. 

“So you dumped him?” He leans back, “I didn’t know you had such high standards,” your cheeks burn, distracting yourself with becoming enthralled in the menu — Satoru had dragged you to a hole in the wall barbecue place (after your insistence that you didn’t want anything fancy after unpacking for hours). 

“How did you know I broke—“ and you cut yourself off at the obviousness of the answer, slapping another piece of meat on the grill, the sizzle punctuated by your words, “I’m going to murder him,” 

“Well, you’re in the right place to dispose of his body,” Satoru licks the spoon clean, before sticking it back in the whipped cream, “why did you break up with him?” 

You shrugged, “I realized he was a narcissistic prick who only wanted me as a trophy,” and Satoru whistled lowly,  “I’m done with dating losers. And dating in general,” 

“I don’t think you should give up on dating just because you had a few bad experiences,” his voice grows soft, “you deserve to be happy and taken care of, even if you have bad taste,” 

And you pout, “I don’t have-“ and he tilts his head, and you lift a few pieces of meat from the grill onto your plate, tongs clattering slightly as you set it down, “fuck, I do,” you groan, shaking your head, “that’s why I had to get out of there. Just needed a fresh start you know?” 

“Sometimes that’s just what you need,” and your lips curl. 

“Sounds like you speak from experience,” and his eyes flit up to yours, gleaming in the low light of the restaurant, cerulean irises catching the drops of light like comets across his gaze. 

“Don’t know what you mean, Princess,” he busies himself with his parfait, and you scoff. 

“Come on, half the girls in this place are glaring at me while I sit here, the waitress has been flirting with you, and now they had brought you out the biggest dessert that I’m starting to wonder if they even serve it here,” he spares a glance around, several gasps from giggling girls who avert their gazes, before his eyes are back on you. 

“Jealous?” You roll your eyes — he wasn’t lacking for ego at least. 

“More like wondering what a guy like you is still doing single,” and he sighs, leaning back, with a tilt of his head. 

“You sure are curious about me,” and his gaze softens for a moment, while he picks at his dessert, scooping the strawberry off the top, “there’s only really been one person that I really wanted,” his tone grew more serious, lips in a bittersweet smile, “but she’s never really looked me like that,” 

“Don’t tell me it’s one of those things where she rejected you and you have to have her now,” and he chuckles, shaking his head, gaze far too wistful. 

His words are slow, as slow as the ice melting in your glass, “It’s more of if I don’t have her, I don’t want anyone else,” and your heart squeezed — would you ever have someone care so deeply for you? 

“Then why haven’t you said anything?” you picked up another piece of meat off the grill, “anyone would be lucky to be with you,” and you meant it — he was blunt, but also kind, sweet, not to mention rich and you flushed as you thought back to his hiked up shirt — good looking. 

But he only stares back at you, tilting his head — expression unreadable, an emotion you can’t grasp before it’s hidden under his gaze’s tempered waters, “Are you included, Princess?” 

There’s a pause, as you almost chuckle, but your laugh dying in your throat at his expression — that same smirk, but the way he looks at you stops your mind in its tracks — only one word rolling around in your head: what? 

And your brow furrows, your lips parting in a response you don’t have — only questions, ones you don’t get to ask as Suguru slides in beside you. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” Suguru sighs, the moment broken, and you don’t catch Satoru’s expression, too distracted by your cousin, “got stuck in a staff meeting,” 

“I told you academia is hell,” you elbow him, and Suguru rolls his eyes, as he shrugs off his suit coat, “were these meetings the reasons you got held up or are they just an excuse so you didn’t have to help me?” 

“Who said it can’t be both?” And he earns a smack to his shoulder, your attention turning back to Satoru, his gaze fixed outside. 

“You’re unusually quiet, Satoru” Suguru kicks him lightly under the table, “not like you,” 

He looks at you first — and you grasp the emotion he had hid before — what was it? Sadness? Longing? — right before it’s gone again as he slides his mask back on, grinning as he always does. 

“What can I say? The view outside is much better than your ugly mug,” and the two of them begin to bicker, and you lean back in your seat, a smile pulling at your lips, even as you glanced back at Satoru. 

And now you wondered if you would ever get an answer to your questions. Or maybe, you sipped your drink, it was better not to have it answered at all. 

~~~

Satoru Gojo was eleven years old when he fell in love with you. It was from the moment he met you. 

And there hasn’t been anyone else since. 

He supposed it was inevitable in a way — since Suguru was his best friend, and his first, and when his family finally decided to enroll him in school, instead opting for private tutors, for the social aspect of making connections, of course. Because what else was your eleven year old son good for then helping to make future business deals easier? 

But Satoru made friends with the one person who couldn’t help their deals — Suguru Geto, one of the only scholarship students in the entire school. And Satoru’s want to avoid spending his days with servants or on the rare occasion, dealing with his dad’s lecture for getting in another ‘disagreement’ with one of his classmates (that ended with that classmate crying after Satoru evaded his punch and kicked him in the shin), ended up with him at Suguru’s place. A lot. 

Then soon enough, he was spending most of his summers there too. And that’s when he saw you. 

“You said your cousin’s here? Is she nice?” Satoru asked, taking off his shoes, as Suguru shut the door behind them. 

“She is, except when she’s being a pain about homework. And when she gets mad, she reminds me of my mom,” Suguru grimaced, as he walked past him, calling out for you. You rounded the corner, book in hand, and Satoru’s eyes grew wide. 

“Hey Sugu, you brought a friend?” You walked over, still clad in your high school uniform, before introducing yourself, and offering him a warm smile, “it’s nice to meet you. I’m Suguru’s cousin,” 

Satoru didn’t know what this feeling was — and he wouldn’t until a few more summers passed, and his hormones kicked in — but all he knew was that he would do anything to see you smile like that at him again. And he did — he would spend as much time as he could with you — talking to you about a test he aced, about something funny that happened at school, or even ratting on Suguru about what he was up to (earning him many knocks to the head by his best friend). But every time you smiled or laughed, it was worth it — worth every second he spent counting down the time to summer break so he could see you again. 

But he didn’t know his seconds would run out so soon — and he only learned one random day going home with Suguru, from a snippet of a conversation he had with his mom. 

“I know, I know she’s coming next week,” Satoru’s interest hadn’t been peaked by Suguru’s conversation until then, because he knew exactly who they were talking about. After all, you always came right at the start of break, and finally he could see you again — and maybe this time, he could tell you how he felt. 

“I know, I know it’s her last time here so it has to be perfect,” and Satoru’s head snapped back to Suguru, last time? “I will,” and Suguru hangs up, a sigh on his lips, “my mom is being so annoying about my cousin. So what it’s her last time staying with us? It doesn’t mean we have to—“ 

“What do you mean it’s her last time?” Satoru kept his tone steady and slow, even as his heart thrummed against his ribs as if it was a xylophone, “she always comes every summer—“ 

“Of high school,” Suguru corrected him, “she is applying to university this year — most of them are abroad, and it seems likely she won’t be back in Japan, not for a while,” Suguru continued to complain on their way back to his place, but all Satoru could do was think about you. 

It was your last summer with him. His last chance to make a move, to be something more than your younger cousin’s friend. His last chance to make you see him as a man, not a kid. 

He had to confess, his fingers curled into fists, before the end of the summer. He would make you his girlfriend — one way or another. 

And he did confess back then, Satoru thought, as he picked up a photo, wrinkled and yellowed at the corners, a picture that Suguru’s mom had taken of you and him the summer you had left. A candid of him and you looking at each other — one that Suguru’s mom had slipped to him with a knowing smile and a wink (one that had mortified him as a teenager). 

He was always looking at you — no matter where he was, his eyes always found your form, a magnet to its opposite pole, and he didn’t know how to stop you from drawing him in. It had been over a decade and he still couldn’t. 

He stared at your smiling face, the very same face that had looked at you with a smile fading to confusion this evening. He had gotten so close to asking you — to telling you how he felt — and he flips to the next picture, a scowl on his face as a picture of him and Suguru with his smug smile stared back at him. If only fucking Suguru hadn’t interrupted. 

He shook his head, flipping back to his picture of you. This wasn’t the summer and he wasn’t a kid anymore. And you weren’t out of his reach, bound for another country across the ocean. No, you were here — only a short drive away. 

And he made a promise to himself — he would get you to fall in love with him, before the end of this summer. 

~~~

You hate first days. 

“Did you see the guy waiting outside?” one woman whispered not so softly as you passed by. 

“Yeah looks like he’s waiting for her,” the other’s lips formed a frown but only to hide her smirk. 

From the time you were a kid, your first day of school was something you had all the time from your family moving around. You were always the new kid — the one who would be met with wide eyes and curiosity, only to be tossed aside a few days later. 

But this was a fresh start that you had wanted — a new job far away from where you had started, with new responsibilities — a first day you had looked forward to, until it went so downhill. 

And it was all your ex’s fault. 

You texted Suguru — is it too early to quit on the first day? 

He replies, well it’s been four hours, think you’ve lasted through one of my dad’s long winded stories longer than that. What happened? 

You glanced outside towards the front of the building. It was more like ‘who happened?’ 

It was an innocuous enough morning, of introductions, trainings, orientation, and finally computer set up. You were rifling through your paperwork, trying to figure out what sheet looked the least daunting when someone called for you. 

“There’s someone looking for you outside the lobby,” you saw a flurry of looks shared and smirks shot in your direction, and when you arrived downstairs you knew why. 

What. The. Fuck. 

You couldn’t help it. You bursted outside, “what are you doing here?” It was your ex — the very same ex who had started at the same overseas company after you both graduated and the one you had. And again, had chosen to follow you here. 

“Waiting for you to change yer mind,” Naoya tilts his head, hands in his pocket, “and I know you will, because you love me,” he raises his voice to catch the eye of several passerby, and you grab his wrist, dragging him away. 

“Fuck off,” you hiss under your breath, “I told you it’s over, and don’t you have a fucking job?” 

“Did you forget? I’m rich, another reason ya can’t do better than me,” Naoya’s lips curl into that same grin, one you knew as charming once, until you saw past his pretty pink lips and glimpsed the sharp fangs behind them, “I took time off. Did ya think it was a coincidence we ended up at the same company?” 

You gritted your teeth, “Naoya—“ and he breaks from your grip, instead his fingers dig into your wrist. 

“All ya are is me. All that you have is me. And all you will have is me,” he dared closer, breath warming your lips, as he took hold of your other wrist and tugged you close, “the sooner you accept that, the better, doll,” 

‘Doll.’ The term of endearment you had seen as precious to you. Something you always loved to hear roll off his tongue, the word you had learned to learned to reply to, even more than your own name. The one you regarded with such love had burned, burned until the flames licked your skin and knew what it really meant — a doll with strings, one he was meant to be the master of. 

“Don’t call me that,” you rip your hands away, “leave. You’re embarrassing yourself,” 

“Am I?” He tilts his head, jerking his head in the direction of your building where your offices had a clear view of this, “or am I just embarrassing you?” 

You stared out the window for a moment and you knew he was still out there — judging but the way your phone was on the verge of suicide by notification, he was still very much there. And now, all people would know of you is the new worker with a crazy stalker ex. 

I’m calling the police, Suguru’s text popped up, what’s your workplace’s address? 

You think I hadn’t thought of that, Sugu? You sigh, he’s not doing anything. He’s on a public sidewalk. They can’t do anything to him. 

Another text: when do you get out? You glance at the time, seeing another two coworkers whisper to each other, stealing looks. 

An eternity — In another two hours. 

I’ll handle it. Just wait in the lobby after work. And you frown. 

Sugu, I can handle it. I don’t need you to come down here. 

You always fought your battles. You didn’t need anything else to — or anyone else to pick them for you. Not even your baby cousin — no matter how sweet his intentions were. 

Don’t worry. I’m not coming down. And you frown, staring at the text, before your phone rings, and you groan as ‘Assistant Director’ flashes on the screen.  

You were so fired. 

You weren’t — as you shut the door of his office behind you. However, he did advise you that this company had a strict no nonsense policy and did want personal drama to be dredged up in the office. And you were given the day to sort out your “mess.” 

You scrub a hand down your face, but it wasn’t even your mess, and how would you fix it? He wasn’t going to listen to you. You sit at your desk, packing up your bag for the day. And your phone vibrates. 

Come down. 

You hesitate, But he’s still downstairs. 

Just go. 

Fuck. You sling your bag over your shoulder, piercing eyes digging into your back, vultures circling an already dead carcass, whispering still even as the elevators doors shut. 

And you almost wish they never opened when you see what’s waiting for you outside. 

Fuck. 

You grit your teeth, stomach in absolute knots as if to brace yourself for the complete shitstorm you’re about to deal with. 

“Satoru?” 

Satoru Gojo leaned back against his expensive (likely imported) car, shiny as it was new, sunglasses glinting in the light, but not brighter than the grin he gives you. He holds out your favorite drink, a tilt of his head. 

“Are you ready to go?” 

You glance around, as he places the drink in your hand, “But what about—“

“Let go of me!” 

Satoru’s lips curl, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, “Oh, I’ve gotten him handled,” 

Naoya stood between two men restraining him, both in suits, as his face contorted in anger, veins bulging, eyes darting between the two of you, “Do you know who I am? I’m the heir to the Zenin Corporation — you cannot treat me like this. I’ll have you—“ 

“Heir? Really?” Satoru stepped forward, blocking him from your view, “is that right? I thought the Zenin hadn’t decided announced a successor yet,” 

You furrow your brow — how does Satoru— but then you’re being put into a car with Satoru’s arm curled around your waist, as he opens the door and tucks you into the passenger seat. 

And now you won’t know. At least not now. 

Naoya scoffed, “And who are you to know anything about—“ 

“Have you heard of the Six Eyes Corp,” and Naoya’s eyes narrow, “you should have because we account for a large chunk of your business. And if that support were to disappear,” he flashes his blue eyes at him over the rim of his sunglasses, “I’d hate to tell them it’s because of this,” 

“You fucking liar, like you could tell anyone anything—“ 

Satoru chuckles, “You’re right, I am a liar,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I don’t need to tell anyone. Except my father,” 

Naoya’s sneer fades into confusion, his eyes narrowed, “Don’t fucking tell me—” 

“Then I won’t,” he steps forward, hands slipping into his pockets, “but if you ever step in her presence again,” he jerks his head towards you in his car, “then I will, and you don’t wanna know what happens if I do,” he steps in front of Naoya, back blocking your view so you don’t see him grab Naoya’s wrist, blue eyes aflame with something far deeper than anger, “because it will much worse,” he squeezes Naoya’s wrist hard making him flinch as he grits his teeth at Satoru’s smiling face, “who knows? Maybe I’ll break your wrist next time.” 

He turns around, waving off the guards, as he makes his way back to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat, smile fading to concern. 

“Are you alright, Princess?” You’re watching those people drag Naoya away, his hateful gaze trying and failing to get a last look at you as the guard takes a hand to the back of his head to force his gaze forward. 

“Where are they taking him?” 

Satoru starts the car, the quiet rumble of the engine filling the silence of his pause, “just to the proper authorities. He won’t bother you again,” 

You bit your bottom lip, eyes burning with tears — and you don’t know whether if it’s embarrassment or relief, “I’m sorry—“ 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” and your eyes slide to his, a soft smile on his lips, “you don’t have anything to be sorry about. Or to thank me for,” he cuts you off as your lips part, “is your wrist okay?” 

You glance down and see the slight redness still lingered, a final parting gift, and your other hand closes over the wrist, “it hurts a little, but I’ll ice it when I get home,” 

“We’ll go to a hospital to have it looked at,” and you’re shaking your head. 

“I don’t want to sit—“ 

“Then I’ll hire a doctor to come see you,” and you stare at him, as he rolls to a stop at a red light…is that a pout? “I just want you to be ok, Princess, please,” 

You bite back a small smile, and ignore the flutter in your heart, “Fine, you win, let’s go to a walk-in clinic,” and you spot his shoulders relax, “but it’s not really fair when you give me your infamous pout,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “‘Infamous?’” 

“You used to whip that out all the time on me and on my aunt when you were a kid — it did always work,” 

“Not always,” he replies, as he turns into the parking for the walk-in clinic, “in fact, I remember a time that it specifically did not work,” 

“And when was that?” You tilt your head. 

And he smiles, “When I asked you to be my girlfriend,” and you furrow your brow, nearly forgetting the memory, until it hits you. 

“Oh my god, the last summer I spent here,” you covered your mouth with the tips of your fingers, a chuckle on your lips, “you were very direct,” 

“I could say the same about you,” and you roll your eyes. 

“You were a kid. You were way too young for me, you know that,” you unbuckle your seatbelt, “plus now I bet you could get any person you want. That’s why I was surprised why you didn’t have a girlfriend,”

“Like I said, there’s only one woman in the world for me,” his eyes find yours, cerulean bathed in sunlight, light catching across his irises, “and only one woman I ever wanted to be with,”

Oh. 

Oh. 

No, no, that couldn’t be it — you couldn’t be her, not after all this time—

You blink, “Satoru, you don’t—“ 

“Well our age difference isn’t a problem anymore is it?” Your brain is struggling to process, lips parting with no words, “Princess,” his fingers brush yours, gently grazing your hand, as your gaze finds his again, “when are you going to take me seriously?” 

“Satoru—“ 

“Just don’t say no,” Satoru cuts you off, pulling his hand away, “don’t say no and think about it,” you open your mouth only to waver at the sight of the pout on his lips and you sigh. 

It was hard to say no, especially right now. 

“Okay I won’t say no,” you slip from the car, lips breaking into a wide grin, before sticking your head inside, “don’t smile like that. It’s not a yes,” you huff, cheeks burning and stomach erupting in butterflies. 

“Not yet,” Satoru says as you shut the door, “not yet, Princess.” 

~~~

“Huh? You did what?” 

You loved your aunt. You really did. She and her husband had taken you in when your parents were too busy working to properly take care of you during the summers. But times like this reminded you—

—-she truly was her mother’s sister. 

“Well your mother was telling me that you haven’t dated anyone since you’ve been back—“ 

“It's only been a month!” You had barely finished getting unpacked, and in fact, you still had at least five boxes still stacked up in the closet, “I’m not interested in dating, I’m trying to focus on work,” you rubbed the back of your head, “new topic, please,” as you sip on your drink. 

And after the debacle Naoya had caused, you needed to — you had put up with the whispers and stares for a few days, but since Naoya had stayed away, the rumors faded with time. Now things had died down for the most part. Except for—

“Has Satoru still been picking you up?” You nearly do a spit take, but instead you choke down the water, coughing, “eh? Are you okay, honey?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” your cheeks burn at the thought of Satoru — he was always a bold kid, but you didn’t think he’d confess to being in love with you all this time. Especially now as a man — and not a kid, “yeah he’s still picking me up,” 

When he had confessed to you all those years ago as a young teenager, you had thought nothing of it. Except that it was a crush on his best friend’s older cousin — something that would pass easily with time. You hadn’t even thought of it in all these years. 

But now, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Especially when he kept showing up to pick you up from work. And now you were stirring other sorts of rumors. 

After he had taken you to the walk-in clinic, he had driven you home, making sure to check if your place was secure enough, and that you weren’t too shaken up. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off to Suguru’s?” he had asked, crossing his arms, “I could also drag his ass here, he owes me anyway,” 

“No, no I’m really fine,” you chewed your lip, looking down, “you sure he’s not going to come back?” and he leans down, forcing you to meet his gaze, as he tilts his head. 

“Sweetheart, you think I’d even leave your place if I thought there was a chance of him coming back?” he offers you a smile, and you scoff softly, shaking your head, “trust me, he won’t be bothering you again, not while I’m around,” and he added, “and I’m not going anywhere.” 

And you didn’t know what to do with the promise in his words. Because you knew he meant that — in more than one way. 

But even so, he hadn’t brought up his confession — not once. 

“He’s so sweet isn’t he? Suguru is always so busy but Satoru’s making time to pick you instead,” your aunt gushes, and you shake your head, your aunt did have a habit of being a little hard on her son, “by the way, would you mind stopping by the house today?” 

“Why’s that?” 

And well, how did you end up here? 

You stood in front of the entrance to a very expensive looking building with a very intimidating doorman, with a large tote bag full of food that your aunt had insisted you drop off. She had given you his address, but by the time you arrived, you realized that you didn’t even have his number. And now Suguru or your aunt weren’t picking up their phones. 

Fuck. 

You were internally debating whether to talk to the doorman or to just go home and deal with this another time, when you heard someone speak behind you. 

“Looking for someone?” You jump slightly, whirling when you see Satoru, hands in his pockets, a smile on his lips, as he lifts his sunglasses to meet your gaze, “didn’t think I’d find you hanging outside my apartment building, princess,” 

“Well, you show up outside my workplace and I’ll be showing up outside your apartment building,” the words leave your mouth without much thought, as your cheeks burn at the implication, “I mean—” 

“Is that supposed to discourage me from picking you up?” he grins, “Doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me,” 

You roll your eyes, before holding up the bag, “My aunt asked me to drop off some dishes for you. She’s worried you’re eating too many sweets,” 

He takes the bag from your hand, fingers brushing, as he shakes his head, “I shouldn’t have ever told her that I had cake for dinner,” and you snort, unable to hide your giggles, “what’s so funny?” 

“I can see a lot about you has changed, but your sweet tooth is just as bad as when you were a kid,” and you see him scratch the back of his head, “is your favorite dessert still mochi?” 

“You still remember that about me?” A smile pulling at his lips, and your cheeks burn, but you refuse to waver. 

“Well, it’s hard to forget you threw up all over the rug when you ate too many,” You bite back a smile when you spot the tips of his ears burn red, as he gapes at you. 

“Did you have to bring that up?” He mutters, a small pout on his lips, and you snort, as he can’t help the curl of his lips, “now, c’mon,” his fingers brush the small of your back. 

“Satoru, where—“ but his hand is firm as he guides you towards his building. 

He flashes you a grin as he signs you in with the doorman, “Do you think I’d let you come all this way without staying for dinner?” 

~~~

“Do you want anything to drink?” Satoru’s penthouse was nothing less than immaculate — high ceilings, pristine floors, and an interior designed living space. You swore in some places it was still shiny — and you felt very out of place in your casual wear for the weekend. 

“Just a water,” you reply, as he opens his refrigerator and you raise an eyebrow at the fully stocked compartments, “wow,” you murmur, and he’s pulling a water and a fancy looking juice out of it. 

“What was that?” He raises a brow, and you stammer a moment, “c’mon princess, share with the class,” 

“Just surprised your refrigerator isn’t just stuffed with just desserts, sweets, and ice cream,” and he hands you your water, before sitting beside you, spread out on the couch, as he always was. 

“Oh it is, it’s just very well hidden,” and you snort, as he throws his arm over the back of the couch, “I may be an adult but I’m not going to be a boring old geezer like my father,” 

“I don’t think I could ever see you becoming boring, Satoru,” you chuckle, and he tilts his head. 

“Is that a rare compliment from you, princess?” And his grin only makes your cheeks warm, as you roll your eyes.

“More like an observation,” you reply, as your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to check — who would be messaging you now? 

Oh fuck. 

“You ok there?” 

No, no you weren’t. Because your lovely aunt had given your number to a prospective match, and now he was texting you. A lot. 

“It’s nothing,” you sigh, shaking your head, putting your phone on ‘do not disturb.” You would have dinner first, and then you’d murder your aunt after dessert, “do you want me to help take out dinner?” 

“You expect me to believe you don’t hire a chef to make these sides?” The food was spread out across the table, many of the dishes your aunt had made plated and presented, but along with sides that Satoru had made, “Suguru had made it seem as if the only thing you ever made was microwave ramen,” 

“Well jokes on him, I burned it the one time I tried,” he grinned, “but I did learn to cook, I just never bothered to cook for Suguru,” 

“And why’s that?” You take a bite of the pickled radish he had prepared. 

“Because I’m not trying to impress him, am I?” And you nearly choke slightly, as you manage to swallow, “you should know I’m so much more than a pretty face, Princess,” 

You sigh, “Satoru—“

“Have you thought about what I said at all?” 

And you had. A lot more than you cared to admit. Especially after all he had done. Everything he had to Naoya to defend you. And just about him — how sweet he’s been, how protective, how kind, and how you’d like nothing more than to do the same for him—

But…

“I have, but Satoru, our ages—“ 

“We’re both adults. We both graduated. We haven’t seen each other in over a decade,” his leg brushes yours as he shifts closer, “are you telling me you don’t feel anything?” 

You didn’t know how to answer that — not when you didn’t really know yourself. And you always knew the answer — you knew you wanted to study abroad, you knew you had to leave Naoya’s company, and you knew you wanted to live here — so why was this the one time you didn’t? And why was he the one thing you were unsure of? 

You bite your bottom lip, “But, Suguru—“ and he scoffs softly. 

“Are you really thinking about Suguru right now?” he asks, “or would you rather date the guy blowing up your phone earlier?” 

Your eyebrows knit together, “How did you know—“ 

“Well I know it’s not Naoya, and I heard from Suguru that your aunt wanted to set you up,” fucking Suguru—and your lips twist into a pout, he tilts his head, not bothering to hide his smile, “if you dated me, you could get your aunt off your back,” he muses, leaning against his elbow, “she always did say I was family, and I’m not looking to be your brother,” 

Your cheeks burn at his words, “Satoru,”

“Think about it, Princess, you don’t have to give me an answer now,” but his eyes flicker to your phone, “but I know you’ll find me once you meet any one of these guys your aunt sets you up with,” 

You grimace at your phone, picking it up to see the messages from the guy your aunt had given your number to, “fuck,” you murmur, locking your phone before tossing it away, an image of you trapped at a dinner across the most boring man alive. And then you glance up at Satoru, still a smug smile on his lips, and then back to your phone. 

“What’s your plan?” 

~~~

“So, I heard you turned down the boy I gave your number to,” 

Your aunt hardly pulled punches. 

She never did when you and Suguru were growing up — she always knew what the two of you got up to, even if you were both sure she could never find out — she always did. Even the one time that the two of you had snuck out to get ramen on a late night, Suguru’s parents were in a dead sleep — but by the time you both snuck back in, she was waiting for both of you in the hallway. But this time, she wasn’t even leading with a wind-up before swinging. 

And then she adds, eyes narrowing, “He said you declined because you’re dating someone,” 

She was going for the kill. 

She turns to grab the whistling tea kettle, turning it off, before pouring the hot water into two cups. You force yourself not to bite your bottom lip, the smallest tell was dangerous, even with her back turned, “Is there anything he didn’t tell you?” She’s placing the tea cups one by one on the tray, as if laying out her pieces on a board only to corner you. 

Your aunt frowns, “His mother told me,” great, even better — he was a momma’s boy, and now you were starting to wonder just how many bullets did you dodge,  “are you seeing someone?” 

You were beginning to regret this plan — and you don’t know why you let Satoru talk you into it. 

“You want me to do what?” You stared at Satoru as if he had suggested going diving with sharks, which is not far from what he was suggesting, “tell my aunt that we’re together. No way,” 

“Aw, am I that embarrassing to date, Princess?” And you roll your eyes. 

“Yes, for me,” and he’s tilting his head, “my aunt will immediately tell my uncle and Suguru — and I don’t know which one of them would kill you first,” your uncle wasn’t one for words or conflict, but he had a soft spot for you — and a fist for anyone that tried to come date you without his approval. 

“Eh? Doesn’t Uncle like me?” And you snort, the one sided conversations that Satoru had with your uncle that usually ended with your uncle excusing himself to get away from that “annoying moron.” 

“He doesn’t hate you but,” you choose your words carefully, “he doesn’t prefer you,” 

Satoru scoffs, crossing his arms, “Well Auntie loves me, and I had a plan for this,” and she did, she had quite the soft spot for Satoru, ever since he was a kid. You couldn’t exactly blame her — he looked like an angel, even if the words that left his mouth made it seem like the contrary, his fingers brushing against a strand of your hair, “and soon I’ll make you love me too,” 

Fucking cocky bastard, you thought to yourself, cheeks burning at the thought of the smirk on his lips, but you’re jarred back to reality as you hear the clattering of cups and spoons.  

“I am,” you reply, and your aunt’s head whips around, the clinking of the glasses cutting through the pause, “it’s new,” you add, as she sets down the tea cups, placing the tea dispensers in each one, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything,” 

“Why wouldn’t you? This is wonderful,” she blinked, and her brow wrinkles, “unless it’s that Naoya—“ you flinch at the thought of him. 

“No, I’m done with him,” you wave her off quickly, wrinkling your nose at the thought of that bastard, grabbing the tea cup, the scent of green tea wafting from the steam that warmed your face, as you blew air to cool it off, “it’s someone I reconnected with here,” 

Your aunt raises an eyebrow, “So soon? Is it someone from work?” Again, is the word she implies with the sentence, a sharp tone that nicked your armor. 

“No, it isn’t,” and she’s sipping her tea, and you take a sip only to burn your tongue, “but he is younger,” 

“That’s not a problem if he’s not too much younger — how old is he?” and this was exactly why you hadn’t wanted to tell your aunt, it was more of an interrogation than a conversation. 

“He’s about Suguru’s age,” and she’s tilting her head, “Suguru introduced us,” and that wasn’t a lie — it was true — both in the past and now. 

“Really? And Sugu is okay with you dating his friend?” Your aunt may be gossip and a meddler, but she wasn’t a fool, your hesitation is your end, “and I assume you’re telling me all this to get me off your case and to ask not to tell Suguru,” she sighs. 

“Auntie—“ 

“You know I don’t like lying for either of you—“ 

“But—“ 

“No, I can’t—“ 

“How about lying for me?” Satoru stands in the doorway, head tilted, a smile on his lips. And your aunt blinks before she slowly puts the puzzle pieces together, a mix of emotions crossing her expression — confusion, disbelief, and maybe a hint of joy, before she settled on a neutral 

“Satoru—“ 

He frowns, “Auntie, you know Suguru will kill me for dating his cousin, please,” and then he does what he does best — pouting. 

And your aunt breaks — with a one hit-KO. 

“You must have been blessed by some needlessly annoying god,” you murmur as he walks you back to your place, sun gleaming as it gave off its last rays of light before setting for the night,  “because I don’t know how you still get her to fall for that,” 

“I was born blessed,” and you snort, as you catch sight of his smile out of the corner of your eye, “and speaking of which, when’s our first date?” 

“Straight to the point, huh?” You stop walking, hands in your pockets, “Satoru—“ 

“Don’t tell me you’re about to launch into another speech about how you can’t date me,” he gives an exaggerated sigh, “I could go back to your aunt and tell her how you broke my heart and let her pull out list of aunties who have sons who are excited to meet you—“ 

“Alright, fine, a date, but one thing first,” you step close to him, making his breath catch, pretty blues finding your gaze, the very same he would love to get lost in, before they flicker down to your lips. And he swears you can probably hear his heart beating out of his chest, thumping at the bony bars of his ribcage, and he hates it, hates how you have him twisted around your finger without trying, “Princess—“ 

You reach for him, fingers nearly about to brush his cheek, his eyes fluttering, before you flick his forehead, “ow!” 

“I was just going to ask when our first date is going to be, but if you rather I go on a bunch of blind dates—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing his forehead all the same, “then do you have any ideas?” 

He grins, “Plenty, but there’s one in particular.” 

~~~~

“An amusement park?” 

He sat next to you, driving, hand on the console and you couldn’t help but brush your arm against his each time you moved — and you felt as if he did it on purpose. 

He raises an eyebrow, stealing a glance out of the corner of his eye, “Uh-huh, got a problem, Princess?” 

“No I’m just surprised, we went to plenty of these as kids,” you glanced at him, his eyes concentrated on the road, fingers curling a little tighter around the steering wheel. 

You had raised an eyebrow at his choice, but now that you were here…it wasn’t a bad pick. 

You hadn’t been to one in years — not since your summers with Suguru. The screams in the distance told you there was a rollercoaster not far off, the syrupy sweetness of sugar somehow emanated from every inch of air, and the park was filled to the brim with families and couples. 

You glance at Satoru, a plain t-shirt and shorts, and somehow he still looked as if he stepped off a page of a men’s style magazine. He looked around, his eyes landing on a vendor selling cotton candy, and you hid your chuckle. 

“C’mon,” you took his hand, leading him over without a second thought, and you’re grabbing a giant cotton candy for him, made into a flower by the vendor. Satoru’s practically vibrating with excitement, slinking his hand around to sneak the vendor money before you even had a chance, “I wanted to pay—“ 

“You think I’d make my date pay?” He takes a bite out of his cotton candy, sugar sticking to his lips even as he nearly inhales a petal, “even the arranged set ups should do that much,” but it’s hard to take him seriously with blue sugar all over his mouth, “what?” 

You snort, grabbing a wet nap from your purse,“Well, you’d be surprised,” and you wipe his face, fingers cupping his chin, “some guys are a little immature,” and he stares back, and you swear you see a flush settle over his cheeks, before he turns away to wipe his lips. 

“Not me,” he mumbles, tips of his ears burning red, and you bite your bottom lip, cute. 

“Should we find a ride to go on?” he immediately grins at that, offering his arm this time, and you take it, a smile tugging at your lips. 

Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. 

~~~

Oh you were wrong. 

So wrong. 

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to get on,” and before you can leave a hand catches you by the wrist gently, blue eyes judging over his rimless sunglasses, “Satoru—“ 

“It’s just a rollercoaster,” just a rollercoaster? No, it was literally your death. You stared up at the contraption above you, the echoing screams growing louder as the line crept forward — akin to a rickety boat that Charon would wade you across into hell itself. 

“No, I can’t—“ you shake your head. 

“C’mon it won’t be that bad—“ 

“So you admit it’s going to be bad,” and he’s biting back a smile, “what?” 

“I just never really saw you being scared of anything, Princess,” he sighed loudly, “I guess I’ll have to ride it all alone,” but that only serves to make many women (and men) stare at him as if to offer him their company. 

“You have options,” and he shakes his head, his hand outstretched as the two of you enter the final stretch of the line. 

“Like I said, sweetheart, there’s only ever been one option for me,” and your fingers graze his with several second thoughts, but when his fingers laced with yours, you knew there was no turning back. 

“I didn’t know you could scream that loud,” 

You grinned at a shaken up Satoru, throat probably raw and aching as he frowns, face turned away, “I’m not used to the speed, unlike you, from how I heard you drive,” and you bite back a laugh, as he fails to hide his flush from you, his ears burning red. 

Your chuckle is a badly disguised cough, “Are you pretending to be this way to make me feel better?” You tease, and he’s crossing his arms. 

“No way I’d let myself look so lame in front of you, I’m no better than Ijichi,” and you raise an eyebrow. Ijichi was a boy in Suguru and Satoru’s class when they were kids — one that Satoru loved to complain about being slow. 

“You still think about him?”

“He’s my assistant,” and you snort at the thought of Satoru still hassling that poor guy. 

“I hope you pay him well,” he’s officially pouting again.

“I didn’t know it would be that intense!” you tilt your head, as the two of you find a corner of the park that’s not so crowded and riddled with children running amok, and you watch him down a sugary soda drink he had bought from one of the food stalls. 

“You act as if you’ve never been to an amusement park,” he’s quiet for a second too long, and your eyebrows knit together, “but Suguru—” 

“You guys would go every summer, but it was when I had my prep classes on the weekends,” he runs his fingers through his white locks, “I would have skipped when I was older, but by the time I had stopped caring what my father thought of me, you had already gone to college and Suguru’s family stopped going,” 

You frown — you knew Satoru didn’t have the best upbringing — yes he had every opportunity at his fingertips, all the money in the world that you couldn’t even fathom, but you could count the number of times he’s mentioned his parents on one hand. 

“I was always so jealous when you guys would go,” he sighed, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, “it seems silly now—” 

“No, it’s not,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “you should have been allowed to be a kid,” 

He chuckles, a noise that sticks in your chest, “Well, more than anything, I wanted to go with you,” his cerulean eyes find yours, a soft smile on his lips, “thank you for indulging me, princess,” 

“Well, you’re the one doing me a favor, right?” you tease, getting to your feet, “c’mon we have plenty of other things to do — I saw a booth with candy apples not too far over there—” you point, and his fingers are already finding yours as he nearly drags you along, a laugh caught in your throat as you can’t help but smile at his excitement. 

It’s infectious, you thought as the two of you got in line, Satoru nearly vibrating with need for his sugar fix, and you shook your head, biting back a laugh, just like him. 

~~~

“You don’t have to walk me home,” the sun had long sunk by the time you both had left, staying to catch a glimpse of the fireworks before heading back, “it’s not that far from here,” 

The two of you had opted to take public transport to the amusement park, knowing there would be next to nowhere to park or rather only the middle of nowhere to park. The cicadas were already beginning their symphony, filling the relative silence of the neighborhood now, except for the chatter heard from inside houses or outside in gardens. 

“Who would carry your loot home?” and he tilts the giant plushie to show his unimpressed face, “you barely wanted to carry this at the park, even after you begged me to win it, and I did, in one shot,” 

And he did, he had won you a giant polar bear plushie nearly as tall as you were in his hands, along with several bags of sweets he had bought on the way out, just to snack on tonight (and you seriously wondered if he ate anything that was not coated in mochi, chocolate, or sugar). 

“I don’t remember begging you — I asked you,” you cross your arms, and you know he’s smiling behind the bear, using the plushie to hide his goddamn smirk, “i did! I just asked if we could try to win it—” 

“And I remember the phrases ‘please’ and ‘i need it’ being involved in the conversation,” you felt your cheeks burn, “you still like these things, huh?” 

“What do you mean?” and he moves the polar bear under one arm, the bags in the other so you could actually see his face. 

“You always loved plushies, you had that one from your parents that you kept in your room with you all the time—” 

“Panda, I was very original with that name,” you shake your head, before your gaze turns to him, his sunglasses gleaming on his head in the low light of the streetlamps, “I can’t believe you remembered that,” 

“There’s barely a thing I’d forget when it comes to you,” and you bite your lip, heart squeezing at his words, “you look like you wanna say something, princess?” 

You reached the outside of your apartment building just as night fell, humidity still clinging to the thick summer air. The light of the lobby spilling out into the sidewalk through the glass doors, just as the streets grew quieter. 

And you do — you’re not sure if you should ask it — a question posed on a precipice of uncertainty that you didn’t know if you wanted to step off of. But you know you had to, at one point or another. 

You could just go inside, brush off his question, and leave the day at that. But a nagging question had wriggled it’s way to the forefront of your mind, and you knew it wouldn’t leave your mind until it left your tongue. 

You chew on your lip, “You say these things so easily when it comes to me, but how are you so sure?” 

And he shrugs, his eyes not leaving yours for even a second, “I just know,” 

“But how?” He’s shaking his head, stepping forward, until he’s a breath away, your eyes flickering from his gaze to his lips for a split second, your own air caught in your traitorous throat. 

“Instead of wondering why I feel why I do, I think you should wonder why you’re so unsure,” and his fingers graze your cheek, tilting your chin upwards, his touch sending heat to the far reaches of your body, and he’s leaning forward. Your eyes nearly flutter shut, as his words nearly warm your lips, but no, instead they brush against your ear, “because if I was still just that kid to you that I was all those years ago, then why aren’t you pulling away?” 

Your eyes blink open, as he pulls away, grin on his lips, as he hands you your polar bear plushie, “Satoru—“ and you don’t even know what you want to say — you want to argue, you want to say something, anything, but nothing comes out but his name. 

“You shouldn’t let a guy get that close, Princess, especially not twice,” he sighs, lips still curled, “because if you let me that close again, I won’t be leaving without a kiss,” 

And you could only stare after him as he left — fingers touching your ear he had whispered against, lips pursing, as you huff, cheeks burning as you step inside your building, burying your face in white fluff of the polar bear that looked a little too much like someone’s hair. 

“Idiot.” 

~~~~

You’re avoiding me. 

Satoru wasn’t wrong. You were — but not exactly on purpose. Or at least you didn’t think so. It had been the third time you had turned him down in the last week. Although, today’s wasn’t intentionally so. You stewed in a corner of the bar, eyes glancing at your phone — what was really an appropriate time to leave a work-sanctioned event without looking completely anti-social? 

It was never really fun coming to these events alone — but you knew if Satoru was here, you’d actually have a good time. You were almost surprised he hadn’t shown up at your place or your work to see you — all he had done is text you. And why did that almost disappoint you?

You checked the time again, met with the notification of Satoru’s message again before you swiped it away out of sight. But he wasn’t out of mind. He hadn’t been for days. You rubbed at your temples — you hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since your day at the amusement park, thoughts spinning in circles and it was all his fault. You had done everything to get him out of your head — minimize contact, not see him, even drag yourself to an event like this — but still, you stared at your phone screen again, the ghost of his words still warming your ear. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

Fuck. What were you doing? You took a long swig of your drink, hoping the alcohol could erase some of that night out of your mind. The last thing you needed to be thinking about was Satoru Gojo. 

“So who’s the guy who has been picking you up after work?” 

You nearly choked on your drink. Really? You downed your drink, hoping you can ignore the question if you take long enough downing the searing concoction that the bartender had handed you, maybe they would let you off the hook. But as you finish the drink, you only find your coworkers staring back at you still. The hush that fell over this group of women was far too reverent for a conversation about a man. 

“He’s my little cousin’s best friend,” you reply, ordering another drink — you were going to need it, and the women exchange glances, fake smiles plastered on their lips. 

“He’s not your boyfriend?” and a strange twinge settles in your chest at the question, poking and prodding your tongue to say no, no he wasn’t, but you almost didn’t want to. 

“No, he isn’t,” and the women grin amongst each other, “if you would excuse me—” 

“Wait, wait, we just started talking, come on now,” you sigh internally, as they order another round of drinks as they corral you to their table, maybe after this you could finally leave. 

~~~

“What’s got you so down?” Suguru slides into a seat across from Satoru — Satoru who couldn’t stop checking his phone to see if you had replied. 

“What do you mean?” he sighs, he shouldn’t have sent that text earlier. He shouldn’t push so much, he’s already pushed enough with his comment. God, why the fuck did he say that? What if you thought he was a creep—what if you thought he was disgusting? What if— 

“You look pathetic,” Suguru sips his coffee in his hand, scrolling through his phone, “who is it?” 

Satoru sits up, locking his phone, tucking it away as if it would incriminate him — flashing your name across the screen like it was plastered over his mind, “what do you mean?” 

“I’ve never seen you like this, you keep checking your phone — you barely can keep track of it most of the time,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I figured you must have grew a dick and started liking someone,” 

“Look who’s talking — when’s the last time you dated someone again?” And Satoru catches the crumpled up paper Suguru tosses, “don’t get on your high horse if you don’t want the same thing back,” 

“At least I’m not waiting like a lovesick puppy over my phone,” Suguru mutters, taking another sip of his drink, and that’s when a phone ringing cuts through the silence — that was your ringtone, the very one he set to know when you’d call — just so he wouldn’t miss it, “looks like your waiting by the door paid off,” 

“Fuck off,” Satoru mumbled, walking off with his phone as he picked up, “hello?” 

“Suguru!” Satoru’s brow furrowed at the sound of your cousin’s name leaving your lips, “can you pick me up plz—“ your words were slurred, sounds of chatter cutting through the background. 

“Princ—“ you hiccuped, a small groan leaving your lips. 

“You can’t tell Satoru, he’ll come here and my coworkers won’t stop asking me about him,” you sigh again, mumbling, “why does he have to be so—ugh, it’s not fair for someone to be that pretty—“ 

Pretty? 

His cheeks burned, as he covered his mouth with his hand, trying and failing to bite back a stupid smile on his lips — it’s not fair for you to be this cute. He would have preferred ‘handsome’ or ‘perfect’ or ‘your boyfriend’ — but he could settle for pretty. 

“Anyway!” You cut his thoughts off, “could you come get me?” And Satoru bit his lip, glancing at Suguru — he could tell Suguru to get you, he could, but the odds of you letting something slip to Suguru—- “remember you can’t tell Satoru—“ 

—was really high. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there, and I won’t tell him,” he adds, because you already had. 

~~~

“How did you find out where I work?” Satoru didn’t know after so many years that there were still new things to learn about you still — and one thing he had learned tonight was that —- you pouted at him, stumbling slightly as he came to a stop in front of your building — you were really whiny when drunk. 

“I picked you up there, remember?” he lightly flicked your forehead that only made you huff, “now do you have your keys?” 

“Do you know how annoying you are?” And he has to bite back a laugh at your scrunched up face. 

“I do, sweetheart, but I’d love to hear you tell me,” you scoff, crossing your arms only to immediately uncross to dig through your purse for your keys, tossing out several things that Satoru catches or picks up. 

“You come to my work and pick me up, and act all swoon worthy, and perfect, and you look like that—“ 

“Like what?” he can’t hide his smile this time, and your brow furrows as you pull out your keys, lips opening and closing, until you purse them. 

“Like that,” you grumble as you teeter on your feet again, before he supports you, and he swore he heard you mumble, “so disgustingly handsome,” 

And he’s glad your eyes are half closed and focused ahead, otherwise he knew you’d smack him for the grin on his face. 

“Oi, don’t—“ and you don’t listen, nearly falling over as you unlock your door, whole body weight leaned against it, but his arm slips around you, holding you up from face planting into your floor, “you’re gonna break your neck, Princess,” 

“You wouldn’t let that happen,” You break from his grip and lean up close, your breath warming his lips, your gaze half lidded, “not when you love me,” and his heart thuds against his ribs, rattling his lungs and bones alike, “that’s what you said, right?” 

You weren’t making this easy, not with your fingers now sliding up his chest, toying with the top button of his shirt, “I did—“ 

“So are you going to prove it?” And the floor feels as if it slips out from underneath him, and all he feels is you, only you — the brush of your fingers against his chest, the faint scent of lavender from your perfume that your aunt had gifted you, and the caress of your gaze against his lips, the same eyes he could easily lose himself in — if he wasn’t careful. 

But he had to be careful — because it was you. 

“But—“

“But what?” it would be so easy to kiss you, when you were only half a breath away, lips parted and gaze asking him to do so, to just lean in—but he can’t.

Not like this. 

His thumb runs down your lips, your eyes fluttering shut, fingers sliding to cup your jaw, and he leans in — feeling your breath catch—

But he only flicks your forehead, drawing a soft yelp from you. 

“I’d like you to remember our first kiss,” and he’s corralling you into bed after that, your body keeling over into the soft mattress, as he’s able to wriggle you under the comforter. Your body relaxes into the plush bed, eyes shut, as your muscles loosen and unwind, while Satoru stands over you, the exact opposite — muscles taut and mind whirring. 

Fuck.

“You never make it easy, do you, Princess?” he mutters under his breath, swallowing thickly as he scrubs a hand down his face, “good night,” his fingers ghost over the swell of your cheek, before turning to leave—

And your fingers caught him around the wrist, eyes half open as you stared up at him, a pout on your lips but now for an entirely different, but somehow the same reason—

“Stay,” one word nearly had him crumble right there — and how pathetic was that? Maybe Suguru was right — he was no better than a puppy at your beck and call — waiting by the door for his master to return. And he almost didn’t mind — if you always came home to him.  

“Princess, you have to go to sleep—“ he could easily break from your grip, fingers wrapped loosely around his wrist, but your grasp may have been very well made of iron with how you had pinned him into place — an entomologist pinning their butterfly in their display. 

“Don’t wanna sleep alone,” a slight whine in your voice makes him waver again, but he had a problem with sleeping beside you—

He shifted in place, adjusting himself, a somewhat big problem thst wouldn’t go away — no matter how many times he thought about Gakuganji in his underwear — especially when you were looking at him like that, half dressed in bed with a pout on your lips and want in your gaze—want that he never thought would be for him. 

“Please?” And that’s all it takes, his thumb rubbing against your fingers — because he could never say no to you. 

~~~~

“Are you okay?” 

Satoru was never left alone — not since he had managed to wander off alone when he was five. It took several hours and a dozen security guards to find him at a bakery, having his third piece of cake. And when he was brought home, he was told just how many ways that could have went wrong — what could have happened to him, and most of all — how badly it could have made his parents look. 

After that, he couldn’t remember a time that his hand wasn’t clutched by a caretaker or escort — from school to home to anywhere else he wished to go. But he never wished to go anywhere, not with a stranger at his side. 

It was only when he met Suguru that he was allowed to go out without someone hovering over his shoulder. But without warning — warning that if any incident would mean he would be stuck back in his daily life. But that meant when he got distracted in the pastry section of the supermarket — looking for the exclusive mochi he desperately wanted — he found himself alone, with you and Suguru nowhere in sight. 

“Suguru?” Satoru called, head whipping around, chest thudding as the white noise of the market grew louder. His gaze falls, ears ringing with all that could go wrong, back to the life with no one at his side, only strangers— 

“Toru?” Satoru’s gaze snaps up, your hands on your hips, your head tilted, “you okay?” And he’s quickly wiping away his tears, sniffling softly, your hand finding the top of his head, “i got you something,” and you hold out a mochi in front of him, and he blinks. 

“You found it?” He’s blinking and your lips curve into a pretty smile. 

“Anything for you, Satoru,” your fingers run through his hair, “Satoru? Satoru—“ 

His eyes flutter open, finding you leaning over him, your tousled hair in messy tangles, “finally awake?” And a soft chuckle on your lips as you speak, rubbing your eye, flinching as you rub your temples, “what exactly happened last night?” 

“You mean besides you calling me pretty?” And your jaw drops, biting your lip, “and begging me to stay? Didn’t know you liked my company that much, Princess,” 

You glare at him, “well with charm like that—“ you mutter, when it occurs to you, “why did you sleep on the floor? And with that?” You point to the polar bear plushie he used as a pillow last night. 

Not his most preferred bedfellow. 

Always full of surprises, his cheeks burn, and he only can hope it doesn’t show on his face, hidden behind a cheeky smile, “Didn’t know you were so eager to share a bed with me, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “I have to warn you, I have a tendency to cuddle—“ and you smack him with a pillow, he sighs, “someone wasn’t too keen on sharing her pillows with me, so this was the best I could do,”

You snort, as you take the offending plushie from him, “Did you do something to him?”

He tilts his head, “Eh?” And you hold up the polar bear plush, “what could I do to him?”  

“Someone did threaten to toss him out into the ocean so he could join his family,” 

“I can do a lot of things, but I can’t solve global warming, Princess,” and you bite back a laugh, “I was on my best behavior with him last night, even though he’s a shitty pillow,” and you didn’t have to know how he had slapped him a couple times. 

But even so, you bite your lip, looking down as you toy with your comforter, “why did you come?” 

He blinks, “what do you mean?” 

“You could have sent Suguru, but you came, and you stayed, on the floor,” and he curls his lips. 

“Well what kind of fake boyfriend would I be?” And you roll your eyes, still waiting for an answer, and his voice grows soft, “you know why, Princess,” 

“I do, but I don’t,” you murmur, fidgeting with your blanket as you chewed on your bottom lip, “my coworkers couldn’t stop talking about you last night, they kept saying how handsome you are, how wonderful, how perfect—“ 

“Should I be less handsome or perfect? Because don’t know if that’s possible—“ and it earns him another whack with the pillow, but he only catches it, “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” 

“It’s not, but I don’t know why after all these years, you still want me,” you sigh, words pushing past your lips,  “you could have anyone, Satoru,” 

“If I just wanted anyone, I wouldn’t have fell in love with you,” and you bury your face in your pillow, gaze peeking down at him. 

“You say that with such ease, how do you know what love even is? I don’t know if I know what it is,” you add, mumbling under your breath, and his eyes can’t help but follow the way your fingers run through your hair. 

“I don’t think I need to know when I feel it,” Satoru sat up, dangerously close to you, within reach yet so far out of it, “do you need to know to see the sky is blue? Do you need to know to feel pain when you burn yourself?” 

“Didn’t know you were taking philosophy classes with Suguru,” and he snorts, shaking his head, “Satoru—“ 

“Like I said before, Princess, just give me some time,” his fingers reach for you, and your breath catches, before he slowly smoothed your hair out, “and I’ll win you over,” 

Your eyes flicker to his, and god, he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss you, but he couldn’t. He had to be patient. He couldn’t push you — he wanted you to want him just as much. He would make you fall into his arms willingly, and you’d kiss him — not the other way around. 

“Want some breakfast?” your lips curl into a soft smile, the very same smile that he had fallen for time and time again. 

“You offering to cook me breakfast?” 

“Just wondering what would shut you up the quickest,” and he has half a mind to reply with ‘your lips,’ but he decides against it, “pancakes?” 

~~~

“I can feel you staring,” 

Even with your back turned to the stove, bowl in hand as you whipped the batter with the whisk, hoping your laser focus on the pancakes would help you distract yourself. But it did little when you could feel his gaze sticking in your back, spotlights on every little movement — something that wouldn’t have bothered you before — but after last night—

This was why you never drank. 

You covered your face with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, as you placed the bowl down, what had your life become? 

“C’mon you can’t just let a guy like that go,” one of the women from work nudged you — you couldn’t remember if her name was Kanae or Kanao — handing you a refill of the drink you had gotten, “he certainly seems into you from the way he looks at you,” 

“If he isn’t, I’d take him off your hands,” Saki slurred, nearly spilling her drink, “he seems to like you. Is there really nothing between you two?” 

“Not really,” you sipped your drink, if confessing to you after over a decade was nothing, “he’s just a friend,” and he was — a friend who was your fake boyfriend. 

“You know with how you started, I thought your love life would be a lot more interesting,” Kanae sighed far too loudly, as she took another long swig of her cocktail. 

“Well we’ve talked a lot about what you guys are but we haven’t asked how you feel,” Saki grinned, sloppily drunk yet somehow masterful with her questions, “how do you feel about him?” 

And how did you? If someone asked you a few weeks ago, you would said he was just your little cousin’s best friend, a childhood friend — and you wouldn’t have thought twice. But now, he has given you so much to think about. Would you be this hesitant if you two haven’t met as kids? If he wasn’t Suguru’s best friend? If he didn’t seem so far out of your league? 

Maybe. But you were never good at going for things you wanted — or accepting things as they were. Even with Naoya, you knew you should have broken up with him — you knew he was toxic, and yet you stayed — because it was easier. 

And maybe it was easier to push Satoru away than to face how you felt.

Fuck, you were too drunk for this — you needed to get out of here, “excuse me,” you manage to slip away into the bathroom, washing your face, leaning over the sink. 

You held your forehead, steadying yourself against the cold porcelain, fingers digging into the rim of the sink — eyes burning as your head throbs, a wave of nausea pulsing through your stomach. Fuck, there was no way that you could get home alone. 

You pulled out your phone and scrolled — who the fuck would you call? The only people you knew were your family and…

Nope. No. Not an option. 

You found Suguru’s number and tried to text, only to find your eyes blurring, and you knew if you sent a message he would be holding over any typos or fuck ups over your head forever. 

You found his name, your head spinning as you clicked and called. 

He didn’t pick up.

“Fucker,” you mumble, trying to hit his name again, your head spinning, and finally someone picked up—

And then you woke up in bed. A soft groan fell from your lips, knives prodding at every inch of your brain, memory blended and choppy as you drew into consciousness. You were home, your eyes fluttering open to sunlight illuminating your bedroom, a dull stiffness in your muscles that makes you stretch, turning on your side only to be met with a sight. 

Satoru Gojo. Asleep on your floor, cuddling the plush polar bear he won for you. You stared, blinking, wondering if blinking away the sleep would somehow blink away Satoru too (it did not unfortunately). So you did the only other thing you could think of — take a picture. 

As you glanced from the image to him, bits and pieces came back — from your drunken ramblings on the phone to the ones in person, your cheeks burning as you buried your face in your comforter before staring down at him. Was it possible to die of embarrassment? You were really testing those limits. 

But even so, as you watched him sleep on top of the plushie, the only thing you could wonder was why had he stayed? He could have left after you fell asleep, or even before that, there wasn’t much you could have done to stop him. But he stayed, even on the floor, rather than anywhere else. 

“So?” you didn’t need to turn from the stove to know he was grinning, “can’t I enjoy the show, Princess?” 

“If you’re enjoying it so much, how about you become part of it and help?” you offer him a spatula, as he makes his way over, leaning over you, his body brushing against yours, but you ignore it all the same, eyes focused on the task instead on the warmth blooming from his touch, “I’ll spoon and you flip,” 

The two of you work in silence, as you spoon batter onto the griddle and he flips the pancakes — and it’s only when you’re both just about done that you glance over, and his lips are curled, “What are you smiling about?” and he shakes his head, as he flips the last of the pancakes onto the stack, “Satoru—“ 

“I just never really have made breakfast like this before, or had someone make it for me,” he scratches the back of his head, “my parents always had chefs or maids or someone make me all my meals, and even when I moved out, I always cooked alone or bought my meals out,” he shrugs, as he turned the stove off, “it reminds me when you’d make me and Suguru instant ramen after we came in from playing outside,” 

You snort, “You remember that?” You would get stuck making ramen for the two of them, tossing some seasoning and sauces into the mixture along with an egg, “I always put too much black pepper. I thought you hated it,” 

“But I always finished,” he added, and he did, even if his cheeks were burning red and eyes watering by the end of the bowl. Your lips curl at the memory of him at the age of twelve downing an entire glass of water and spilling it all over the front of himself. 

“Well I can make a lot more than instant noodles now,” you have Satoru set the table while you start to clean up, turning on the sink. You hear the clink of plates and utensils behind you, as he sets them down on the table, but you can feel his gaze fall over you even as your back is turned. 

“I’m going to need some proof — there were a few times you almost burned those noodles,” and you pout, turning with your hands on your hips. 

“Oh you want me to prove it now?” You turn, running your finger discreetly up the side of the used mixing bowl, finger full of batter as you walk up to him, hands behind your back. 

“And how’re you gonna do that, Princess?” the corner of his lip quirks upwards, as you step close up to him, and god, he’s fucking tall — and it kind of pissed you off — all these boys shoot up like fucking weeds, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t knock him down a bit. 

“Close your eyes, and find out,” he raises an eyebrow, suspicious, but still he obeys — good boy, the praise runs through your head to the tip of your tongue, but you bite it and the words back alike. And you’re so close, you can see his snow white eyelashes fan out against his cheeks, and he’s so unfairly pretty, 

For now. 

You’re so close, you nearly feel his body warmth radiate your skin — and you swear you hear his breath hitch — and it would be so easy to lean forward— “Princess — what—” 

And then he gasps when you smear pancake batter down his cheek, a snort leaving your lips as he gapes at you, mouth ajar. He blinks, his hand reaching for his cheek, before he stops when his eyes flit to your batter caked finger, “You—” 

You’re giggling, trying to stop yourself from doubling over at his expression, “What? I just wanted to give you a taste of my cooking before you tried it,” and he frowns at you for a moment, before his lips curl deviously, tilting his head. 

“Is that right?” and his fingers run through the smeared batter, caking his finger tips before he’s stepping towards you, “then it’s fair, if I make you taste it too—“ and you’re trying to back up, giggles leaving your lips,  but he catches you by the wrist. 

“Satoru—“ you whine as you’re trying to squirm away, “let go!” but he only pulls you close, your body nearly bumping against his — and it was your turn for your breath to catch, cerulean irises stealing the air from your lungs as you drowned in them, “hey—“ 

“Just how much are you gonna tempt me, Princess?” and you should step away, but his fingers around your wrist send warmth blooming down your arm, straight to your chest, and you can’t bring yourself to step away. 

“And how am I doing that?” His fingers tug you closer, thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist, before he leans close. 

“You know exactly how,” and your glance flickers from his gaze to his lips, and back again, resisting the urge to shut your eyes — but you don’t have to, when he smears the batter all over your cheek. 

“Toru!” You stare at him, and he’s laughing, as you grab at him, only for him to slip away, “I’m gonna kill you—“ and you move towards the sink, batter covered bowl still inside, “oh just you wait—“ 

But your beeline is cut short by his grip, arm darting around your middle, as he pulls you back. You gasp, struggling in his arms in vain — fuck his stupidly toned arms,  “you shouldn’t start something you’re not ready to finish,” his words are said against your ear, but they rush down your body in almost a shudder. 

His lips are an inch or two from yours, you would barely need to lean to reach them — the words of your coworkers ring in your ears 

“Who said I wasn’t?” His eyes find yours, his fingers tilting your chin ever so slightly, when your phone rings. 

You jerk slightly at the sound, your eyes flickering to the name across the screen and see Suguru’s name flashing on the screen. 

“It’s Suguru,” and Satoru lets go of you, as you make your way to the phone, and you swear you hear him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?” you don’t pick up the phone but a few texts come through anyway. 

“Nothing,” he scratched the back of his head, “what did he say?” 

“He’s asking if I wanna come over for dinner tonight, said you’re gonna be there too?” And you raise an eyebrow, as Satoru fishes his phone out of his pocket and glances at it. 

“Apparently I am,” you turn on the faucet, cleaning your face off, offering Satoru a damp tissue. “Guess this won’t be the last meal we’re sharing today,” 

“Guess not,” his fingers brush yours when taking the tissue, trying to clean the batter off his cheek but only spreads the mess. You snort, as you take the napkin from him holding his face by the chin, “so how’re we gonna play it?” 

“Play what?” You toss the napkin away, both of you taking a seat at the table. 

“Did you forget?” He stabs a pancake and places it in his plate, “we told your aunt we’re dating — and that we’re hiding it from Suguru, and you just agreed to dinner with both of them,” 

Fuck. 

✧ a/n: hi it's been quite a while T_T. sorry work has been so busy. i haven't had a moment to post, and now i had to split this up because it just got too long lmao. part two will come later, i'm going to be prioritizing my kinktober fics. thank you to @coffee-and-geto for betaing :)

✧ taglist: @satorusmochis , @celestialgojo , @sugurubabe , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @strawberryfanatic01 , @cira273 , @sobbangchan , @hiraethwrote , @peppertoastuniverse , @dreamtardisspace , @redmangotango , @h4ru-h4ruu , @anpacax0 , @theshylittleelfgirl , @hyori2 , @elliesndg , @maddietries , @roses-can-be-deadly-too, @vernasce-blogs , @mrsoikawa17 , @spider-fan72 , @haoxiaoxi , @horchatacow , @lovemoreworrylessv, @maybe-a-bi-witch , @missroki , @rubyarerosies ,, @ranatherealestsigma , @svt-backup , @catsgomurp , @sakurastorm , @forest-fruits-jam , @lemonpoppy-seed , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @notgoodforlife , @johannakhalafalla , @fushitoru , @kentosbutterfly , @augustwinesworld

[janumun]

A Practical Demonstration (LaDS Sylus - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 9.8k Pairing: Sylus/Reader

Tags: size difference, oral and vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, mild mentions of stalking (not Sylus or Mephisto for once LOL), inexperienced (NOT virgin) reader, edging, drinking, [im]proper use of evol, explicit sexual content

Summary: When you end up disclosing a mortifying truth to Sylus about your dating life, deep in a drinking session; drowning yourself within a bottle — or three — of alcohol until you black out is the only option left to you to avoid that sharp, intuitive gaze for the rest of the night.  

That is, until Sylus throws a counter offer your way, one that sounds far too tempting to your scrabbled brain. Being the brilliant voice of reason you are tonight, you accept.  

[A fic where Sylus shows you exactly how good sex with a perceptive partner feels like when you confess your less than optimal dating experience.] 

Author’s Notes: Truly clown moment when I believed this fic would not exceed more than 4k words and yet again, here I am sitting on an almost 10k monster. I love what being horny for these men has done for my inspiration. Thank you so much to @chibamari for providing the prompt that birthed this fic. Already working on a religious desecration imagery angsty sex fic with Xavier and Queen MC, based on his first myth, as we speak.

The lingering remnants of your foiled meeting are muted with the press of rouged lips against the cusp of your cool glass, the liquor within, sliding easy down your throat with your fervent swallow.  

Placing it back down with a defeated sigh, you lean your arm against the counter, cradling your warming cheek against the crook of your palm.  

You never should’ve let Tara talk you into an impromptu date with a mutual acquaintance she’d considered ‘the perfect match’ for you; her giddy excitement and enthusiasm to get you a date had been too difficult to turn down. You cursed yourself underneath your breath at your inability to say no to those big, wide eyes and cheery smile; exactly the components that had saddled you deep into the disaster you’d considered that date to be — if it could be called as such.  

You’d excused yourself half-way through the man’s self-absorbed prattling — ruining the taste of the expensive steak in front, one you’d been wanting to try for ages — on excuse of an urgent mission coming up.  

A hand tucking your phone close to your ear, to reinforce your hasty lie while the other had slipped your card to your assigned waiter, making hasty work of settling your end of the bill. You’d swept up your coat and purse, striding out the lavish restaurant on swift-heeled steps before your sputtering date could so much as lift a hand in protest.  

Which is what had now landed you firmly in your current predicament, within the confines of a cosy, well-known bar, not too far from where you’d started.  

Nursing a budding headache within the bitter notes of alcohol, to help ease at long fraught nerves. In between the ever-looming threat of Wanderers and the obstructive wrench thrown into your investigation into the Ever group, along with how busy work usually kept you, you were exhausted, suffice to say. The insignificant man tonight had just been the icing on this long-ruined cake.  

Tara’s suggestion; to put yourself out more and ‘let loose’ for a bit, had ended in mild regret in going along with it, in the first place.  

It had been far too long since you’d been in a relationship — let alone enjoyed a date with a man; your professional obligations kept you busy, coupled along with an extremely low desire to invest yourself into the dating pool, to wade and weed through to one that matched your wavelength.  

A flash of an alluring garnet gaze sparks through your mind’s eye in passing, at the thought, one you physically shake yourself out of.  

Now there was a man entirely on the spectrum opposite to your frequency. Your inability to resonate with him had only been just one of many failures toward mutual understanding.  

“Another one for you, Miss?” The bartender inquires; you’re nodding before you can think it through. 

“Yes, thank—” 

“She’ll have a mojito instead. The usual for me.” A deep, rich voice drifts at your back — before it scotches down, involuntarily and low into your belly — just as the large hand you feel slip across your shoulder in greeting. You close your eyes against the intrusion, hoping the hazy apparitions of your mind would gift you a damn break just once tonight; as if having had him conjured out of mere musings. You shudder.  

The alluring man at your side does not dissipate as you’d direly wished, seating himself down onto the stool next to yours, completely at leisure at having snuck into your space, unannounced once more. You hated how infuriatingly easy the Onychinus head found himself able to pervade your every space, along with each of your thoughts — the latter of which you did not wish to dissect apart tonight. Or, ever, if you had the choice.  

“What are you thinking of, with such a severe frown on your face?” He speaks, as if he does not know the exact reason for your irritation. “You’ll put a permanent knot in there if you don’t stop.”  

You choose to ignore him in lieu of offering a resigned nod to the bartender for the order Sylus had placed on your behalf. You could use a less inebriating drink now, especially so if you were to deal with the man beside you. 

“What’re you doing here, Sylus?” You sigh against the dredges of your last drink, letting the bitter liquid warm your throat.  

“Has the alcohol numbed your memory as well, sweetheart? We had an appointment, did we not?” Your respective orders are deposited in front, just as he moves to take the drink in between long, tapered digits, bringing it up to his mouth for a taste.  

The slow drag of his Adam’s apple against his throat as he drinks, tugs your gaze towards it — an involuntarily reflex you aren’t able to control. Sylus’ scarlet gaze canting sideways to capture yours is what finally has you wrenching away from the delectable sight, cursing your fast settling inebriation for the mis-step.  

He was an attractive man, your mind had long made begrudging peace with the fact, even if you’d both started off on an extremely wrong — horrid, actually — foot. And he’d proven himself to be a reliable companion, when the two of you had caused waves within N109’s criminal hub, in a quest for the Aether Core. His side of the bargain he’d kept, in exchange for your deal to forge a steady resonation with him. One you had no thoughts of reneging on, you’d keep your promise to him for the massive aid he’d provided. And yet, you could not help bemoan the fact that this very man confounded you, to your very core, to the point you weren’t sure what to make of his intentions. And yours.  

But surely, you weren’t this physically deprived that Sylus of all people was beginning to sprout this visceral a reaction from you?  

“And I texted you I couldn’t make it tonight, sweetheart.” You quip, pinching your forehead in between thumb and index. “This really isn’t the time, Sylus.”  

He raises a careful brow at you, and God help you, even that gesture is incredibly beguiling to your slushed brain.  

“And you couldn’t make it because” he prompts, tapered digits drumming against the marbled countertop. “you wished to spend your time out here, dressed to the nines, in a party of one?”  

“So what if I wanted to?” All your prickly response earns you is a discerning gaze, zoned in on you. You exhale hard through your nose, shoulders steeling to utter your next words. “Oh alright, I had a blind date tonight.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re divulging something this private to the man. 

The way his brows shoots in simmering surprise before they bunch in at his forehead in a frown is almost comical, you would’ve snorted at the expression he’s pulling if not for his next words. “So that’s what had that imbecile out there on your trail, lingering at the door for.” He scoffs. “You may not have enjoyed your date but you certainly got yourself a love-struck fool nipping at your heels, kitten.” 

“Wait, what?” Bewilderment wars cold within your mind at the disgusting revelation of the man tonight having possibly followed you and Sylus having caught him dead in the act. “What did you do to him?”  

“It’s fascinating how your first assumption is that I did anything to him.” His pleasant chuckle curls within your ears; a low, throaty burr. And when you give him one of your own looks, “Alright, don’t look at me so. Mephisto presumed you had a far dangerous stalker on hand than that sorry bastard, when he saw him lurking about you.” He swirls his glass of whiskey in between casual fingers. “I gave him some cordial talking to and sent him on his merry way.”  

A million queries hurtle within your mind — what did his “cordial talking to” ensue exactly? Why had Mephisto been trailing you? Why did Sylus feel the need to step in and personally take care of your potential stalker?  

You reach to take a swig of your own glass, feeling that headache pinching once more at your brow. “I don’t appreciate you having your silly crow keep tabs on me, Sylus. But,” Reluctant gratitude stirs at the tip of your tongue as your mind slowly processes the situation at hand. If it hadn’t been for Sylus’ interfering ways, you might’ve been saddled with a problem far worse than the infuriatingly suave Onychinus leader on your hands tonight. “Thank you for taking care of that creep for me, I guess. I appreciate it?”  

You think you catch the strains of barely there surprise within his gaze, along with an amalgamation of emotions you aren’t able to parse before they’re shuttered out of sight. Replaced with a cool smile, he angles at you. “The alcohol has you honest for a change, kitten. I can’t say I dislike it.”  

That infuriating remark has you almost wanting to take back your thanks, almost.  

“Your engagement for the night has scurried off home with his tail in between his legs, leaving you to your celebration of one.” His touch is a flitting, warm caress against the shell of your ear as he folds a stray lock of hair back in place. “Are you going to say why you’re out here by your lonesome yet, furiously downing liquor, instead of back in the safety of your house?”  

A gibe sits sharp across your tongue at his probing, wanting to tell him to back off and out of your business, he had no reason to be asking whether you chose to go out on a date or throw yourself a self-wallowing party, to let loose for one damn night. You weren’t even sure why Sylus pricked at your nerves the way he did — riling you up in the manner he did. Each single touch, every look fraught with meaning. He did and went as he pleased, without a care for what people made of him; self-assured as if the world itself, he held, in between those devious fingers. And he probably did too, his reputation one of absolute power within N109 Zone and without.  

That very same man — the one who’d told you he’d make full use of you, as you did him — perched atop a bar stool by your side, asking you a question that seemed devoid of his usual ribbing. And perhaps, it’s because of that one sole thought that you find your mouth moving — or simply, because the alcohol has sniped your inhibitions. “Tara’s been on my case lately, insisting I need to get laid to blow off some stress.”  

“Oh? That hunter girl with the bob, the very eager one.” Sylus looks immensely amused; your mind sifts through memories to recall how exactly Sylus knew her before it clicks: ah, the company retreat you’d stumbled into Sylus a few weeks back at. How could you ever forget? The day had been a nightmare.  

“The very one,” you blink. “Hence the failed date tonight and my immeasurable disappointment.”  

“Why? Were you planning on sleeping with that loser?”  

You shake your head at him, horrified at the mere thought. “No, it actually went as well as I was expecting it to. Bad, that is.” You take another enthusiastic swig of your drink, a modicum of clarity returning to your stuffed head. “The sorry state of the dating pool at large, for a hunter with limited time on her hands isn’t exactly stellar. Even less so for men who know what they’re doing. And my luck in that regard seems particularly disastrous.”  

In hindsight, you knew you were word vomiting your thoughts out at this point, with way too much candour than was appropriate for the situation, you’d regret it tomorrow perhaps — no, most definitely. But at the moment, underneath the glazed pleasant bubble of alcohol loosening your tongue and the enticement of an extremely alluring man, who had his entire attention focused upon you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.  

He huffs an amused half-laugh. “What sort of men have you been with exactly, kitten?” 

“Not that many.” You retort. “...Two and both during my schooling years, very briefly. I was a giddy teen, excited at the prospect of a loving boyfriend. Both their expectations from the relationship were obvious from a mile away, though.” You scrub a hand through the carefully primmed fall of your hair, not caring for the accessories you knocked askew. “God, I don’t think they even knew what to do with a woman, outside of getting their dicks wet.” You laugh at your own odd joke, tumbling within your brain.  

“It’s actually crazy how I’ve never had a man make me properly come in all my years—” Your words die within your throat at the realization of your horrifying admission.  

Surely, you’d thought them within your own mind and not just blurted your entire sob fest onto the man in front? A wretched sound of dismay leaves your throat at the inscrutable look upon Sylus’ face, shredding apart any sliver of hope you’d had that you had only been musing in thoughts.  

Gods, Tara was right, your idiotic self did need to get laid, you’d gone mad at long last. And made of yourself, a fool in front of the man you were begrudgingly attracted to. There was no coming out of this and you woed the fact that you’d even let yourself drink in the first place. 

“It does seem like your dating life has been rather disastrous up to this point.” Sylus responds, at last, insouciantly plucking his glass of whiskey off the counter for a swig, so at counterpoint to your rioting emotions.  

“Sylus.” 

“What is it?”  

You reach over, a hand securing about his broad shoulder, as you tip precariously close into the man’s space, plucking the glass straight out of his hands.  

“Hey—” Before darting back as far as you’re able, a feat Sylus did not think a woman even half-drunk was capable of.  

Taking a large gulp of the acridly strong liquor down your gullet, in a prayer to knock yourself out like you’d originally intended to before Sylus had walked in all over your small parade. Anything to blot your memory of the knowledge of your mortifying words to Sylus. But curling vines of red and obsidian are cleaving through your plans just as swift, one sliding about your waist to prevent your precipitous tilt upon the narrow stool while the other plucks the liquor clean out of your hands after a single pitiful swig.  

The swirls of misted red disappear just as furtively swift as they’d appeared once they have you righted upon the stool and out of harm’s way.  

A low sigh rings heavy above your head at your absurdity. “That’s enough. We’re leaving.”  

Affording you no room for feeble protests as he slips a cool palm around yours; long, thick fingers reassuring in between your own before he tows you away from the glittering inebriation of night life.  

Clarity from the merciful remnants of your intoxication is unwelcome tonight — like cool gunmetal pressed fast against your temple, siphoning the entirety of the alcoholic flush from your system. Having utterly failed at your attempts at getting hammered so you would’ve had at least an excuse to fake post drunken amnesia in the face of your shame tomorrow.  

Instead, here you were, deep within Zone N109 once more, incarcerated to the room Sylus had appointed temporarily as yours during your first visit to the place. One that had over time, turned into your housing and personal space, indefinitely, for whenever you happened to drop by on business with the Onychinus head. On business, you firmly reminded yourself. Even as the significance of the fact that Sylus had thought it fit to make space for you within his very own — his home — was not lost on you.  

You remembered trying to sweep a kick to the back of his shins, back at the bar, for having you bodily dragged out into the sobering night air and towards where his car awaited, parked by the curb.  

“Let go of me, you big brute.” Those vexing vines of red had curled about your leg mid-motion, tugging you up sharply before your world upended and you’d been tossed unceremoniously like a sodden sack of rice onto the broad expanse of one of his shoulders. You’d dug your nails into his back in punishing protest at his audacity.  

Earning yourself a derisive snort for your efforts. “Continue pawing at me like that and I’ll have you trussed next, kitten.”  

Your mouth had curled into a silent snarl, thumping futile fists against his solid back. “Try me.” 

“Don’t think I won’t.” He’d warned mildly before he’d continued on his merry way, wide stride that had barely faltered with your struggles.  

You sigh in defeat, scrubbing your palms down your face in recollection of the memory — your reflexive annoyance at his actions stemming more from your own mortifying situation than any real anger at him.  

He’d brought you back to his place, closer from where the bar was located, instead of back home, where the two of you risked running into any of your acquaintances, Xavier for one.  

And you couldn’t afford to let the people around you know of the Onychinus head — Sylus understood that instinctually, even if you did not speak of it. Content though he seemed to perpetually keep you in a state of life-threatening heart palpitations with his goading ways; absently recalling how Sylus had been Tara’s first man of choice for her date plan, owing to how he’d found it fit to barge in on their last team retreat.  

Shaking your head, you press a hand against your forehead as you move to wipe your body clean, having opted for one of the more comfortable outfits to change into for the night, you’d brought over from your place to his during one of your earlier visits — amusement sparking at you to witness how Sylus had thought it fit to buy you a couple new dresses, to add to your sparse collection, hanging within your wardrobe. As if you two were something more than acquaintances and professional partners.  

Your mind really seemed to have free reign over mad thoughts tonight.  

A knock resounds through the quiet of the room, effectively piercing your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” His familiar, welcome burr sounds from the other side of the door.  

“I am. Come on in.” The handle glides open, revealing Sylus standing in the doorway, having swiped his outerwear for a casual dark red button down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the firm strength of his forearms; a sight you aren’t able to tear your ogling from, as he steps into the room. He closes the distance in between you in three easy strides. Crowding you within a room that feels too small and sweltering all of a sudden.  

“Feeling any better now?” His voice wrenches your gaze away from the sliver of skin revealed beneath the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened.  

You sigh, cursing at licentious thoughts. This man, in his incinerating, sensual entirety, frustrated you to no end. “I am, Sylus. Thank you.”  

“Good.” He hums. “Because you should stay awhile, a day or two at least.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I have to make sure that weasel you had tagged to you tonight doesn’t try getting too smart. Mephisto caught him lingering close to your streets after the whelp bolted following his wretched stalking attempt.”  

The revelation has nausea stirring at your gut; what had you gotten yourself into with that despicable creep? You were going to throttle Tara the next time you saw her.  

You sigh. “While that is disturbing behaviour and I’m grateful for the concern but I think I could’ve handled that idiot fine on my own.”  

A frown belts at his brow. “He’s a colleague from work, isn’t he? Despite his absolute spinelessness, that weasel is a trained Hunter with an authorized weapon on hand.”  

You raise a questioning brow at him, half inquisitive how exactly he knew your date happened to be a work acquaintance. Barely a few hours spent on his radar and the sorry fool already had all his information scraped and into the Onychinus head’s clutches. You did not envy his position, at the moment, massive creep though he was, having stood witness to how Sylus wiped his enemies clean out of existence.��

“Sure you’re capable, sweetheart, and your weasel is an idiot but do you want to be vigilant, glancing over your shoulder for a stalker, round the clock?” He pitches his head, waiting for your answer.  

His words give you pause, his reasoning not entirely without weightage. You mutter a quick curse underneath your breath, frustrated at how terribly disastrous tonight had turned out to be.  

Sylus’ smile quirks, taking your expletives for the affirmation they are. “And besides,” his hand shifts against your cheek, skimming a thumb down the curve of it, “you did enthusiastically mention your hazardous luck with dates. Might as well take care of this one before the vermin starts to fester.”  

A skitter of irked embarrassment bruises at your ego. “Are you making fun of me right now?” 

“Not in the slightest.” His thumb has switched towards your bottom lip, trekking a ghosting path across the swell of it. A different kind of emotion spurts within your chest along with the simmering annoyance, at his testing touch. “On the contrary, I was going to make an offer, one of mutual benefit.” His voice skims an octave lower and scotches deeper into your belly. “What do you say? Would you like to hear it?” 

His searing touch drifts down your chin, sweeping against your jaw. You’re unsure of the mesh of emotions that are surging through you at his evocative touch; indignation, surprise, reluctance... desire. You can barely focus on the words issuing from his mouth.  

“Well?” He prompts. “I don’t recall taping your mouth shut, sweetie.” His thumb returns to caress a path across your parted lips as if to make a point; a hushed throaty laugh leaving him at the hitch of breath that action elicits. He knows what he’s doing to you and he’s rousing you on purpose; the absolute scoundrel.  

“What’re you trying to say? Speak clearly, Sylus.” Your tongue darts forth to lap a quick path across the bottom of your lip; Sylus’ gaze rolling down your face to settle at your mouth when you do, a sudden simmer of heat flaring within blood-red.  “I despise riddles.” Another deep chuckle issues from his mouth, one that stirs into your belly without permission, much like the man himself.   

“What was it that you said earlier?” The tip of his thumb edges just past your lips. “Ah yes... you’ve never had a man make you come.”  

You flush at the recollection, cursing yourself for the umpteenth time tonight. You’d made a terrible mistake and you swore you’d never drink again, if it meant Sylus would just fucking drop it. Or you would, and the ground would swallow you whole. You’d confided a mortifying secret within a man who confounded you to no end.  

“So what?” A challenging grimace drags at your face, just as you sink a bite into his invading digit, hard. He does not so much as even flinch, his smile tugging wider instead. 

“What a spirited kitten I’ve lured into my hands.” He muses. “I like the face you’re making right now.”  

His eyes crinkle in at the corners, a mild thread of tenderness you think you catch streak through the simmering heat of his garnet gaze. It makes you want to turn away from the look, not wanting him to scrabble your heart any more than he has.  

“No,” A tapered index and thumb curve about your chin, firmly tempting your gaze back to him. “Don’t look away, keep your eyes on me.” 

And for that one instant, you listen. “My proposition is earnest, sweetie. Despite what your consensus may be, I’m quite fond of you, more so than you think.” Your breath snags in your throat at the admission; you’d be blind to not catch the clear insinuation in his words.  

His mouth skews into a smile. “Would you be averse to the idea of me showing you how it’s done?” He swipes at the swell of your bottom lip, his voice several octaves lower. Yes?” A sensual caress in the opposing direction. “No?” Your eyes flitter in hooded desire at the allure of his rich voice, scotching low into your belly to pool in between your clenched legs. 

You take a moment to inhale, slow, processing his words. Reaching a hand out to trace careful fingers against the strength of his jaw. “Do you realize the weight of what you’re implying, Sylus?” An inane question by all means. You’ve never known a man more self-assured in what he desires; you admit it’s rather arousing. 

“Oh, I do.” The distracting curve of his smirk pulls wider. “But do you, sweetheart?”  

Your fingers leave his face to drift across the open collar of his shirt, pulling him close. “You’ve been lodged in my mind for a long time.” You allow him a moment of that infuriating self-pleased smile. “Even without that pesky Evol of yours invading my skull.” Before you’re fisting his collar to rise on the tips of your toes to press your lips hard against that irksome, delicious mouth. 

Sylus’ hands curve about the give of your waist, fitting you firmer against the hard planes of him, without hesitance. He allows you free reign for a while before he chases your retreating mouth with his own, not sparing a moment of reprieve for the hungering breath you try and draw back into your lungs. His tongue slipping past your lips instead, granting you a taste and breath of what he alone affords you in that moment.  

Your hand flies to grip about the base of his neck, appreciating the firm musculature of his upper back that flexes beneath your touch when he moves to snare an arm about your waist. Fingers sinking harsh into your hip as he grinds you impossibly close to his body, siphoning the rest of your breath from your lungs.  

You’re near dizzy with the way his tongue licks into your mouth, tip teasing its way across the roof before it withdraws to slick a path against your wet bottom lip. You insist your grip harder against the back of his neck, dragging him back to you in the swelling smile he presses against your damp sighs — the drench of them flaming across your chest to pool low into your belly and settle deep in between your legs.  

Sylus lets out a low grunt against your skin — a sound that has your insides clenching in on desire — before his clutch upon the flare of your hip tightens, hand curving downwards about the swell of your ass before he lifts you up entirely on the strength of one firm muscled arm. The whimper you’re unable to tamp even against the aggression of his mouth, at his show of unrestrained desire.  

“Hold on tight now, sweetie.” He murmurs, sultry, against your lips. 

Sylus strides you both further into the room without breaking your kiss, the corded strength of his arm sturdy beneath your ass and you take that moment to appreciate what the position allows you access to, fully. Covetous fingers you run through the hair at the base of his neck to tug him into the kiss as you wish — his rewarding grunt in answer, warming your belly — against your mouth.  

Rushing down the buttoned line of his shirt, making quick work of undoing more of his buttons. A hand you slip past the edges of his shirt once the cloth against his chest is no longer impeding you, caressing your fingers against the hard planes of his pectorals. Sylus’ chuckle reverberates deep within your mouth, your fingers flexing into his shoulder at the sound. “Someone’s eager.”  

He stops at your bedside before he tosses you back onto the soft of your sheets. Not giving you the chance to even hoist yourself up on your arms before he’s towering over your body — crowded against his large frame.  

Chest heaving from the earlier stretch of your kisses and how he’d hurled you back onto the bed, you press a halting hand against his torso, playing at the lower buttons you weren’t able to undo earlier. Making hasty work of your remaining task before your fingers slide in welcome against the defined warmth of his abdomen.  

Your mouth parts in breathless wonder, eyes drinking him in voracious need, before they slip lower towards the straining length of his arousal through the placket of his pants — a sizeable bulge visible even through the pitch-black material. “Like you’re one to talk about being eager.” you quip, inquisitive digits dipping lower to ghost across the clothed length of him.  

His breath deepens at the touch, a thick chuckle slipping past his lips. “Point taken.” 

Your hand slips to curve against the swell of his cock above cloth, once more, feeling for the shape of him; larger than any you’ve had before, it sets a flitter of nervous anticipation into your chest. You want to see it, him.  

Sylus cocks his head at your inquisitive touches but doesn’t move to stop when your fingers work at the confines of his pants, until his arousal is far prominent beneath the remaining layer of his briefs. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight — he truly is big. Rather intimidating, entirely exciting.  

“Having fun?” He inquires, capturing your fingers in between long, tapered digits to bring them up to his mouth in a brushing kiss, a keen garnet gaze that refuses to relent from yours.  

“Yes,” you answer honestly.  

“That’s a good start.” He hums. “My turn.”  

Red and obsidian spiral about the length of your body, toying at the straps of your camisole, the edges of it at your belly before they’re dragging the material up across your body, and with the reveal of skin, Sylus’ eyes follow; the serrated intensity of his heated gaze, enough to have you try to squeeze your legs together on instinct to relieve some of the overbearing burn in between them.  

You can feel how mortifyingly wet you are, and yet in that moment, your mind cannot seem to muster shame.  

His thick fingers trail next across the waistband of your shorts — vined red making quick work of the ribboned bindings of the silken material before Sylus’ thumbs hook on either side, to drag your shorts and panties, torturously slow, down the plush of your thighs in one go.  

He’s hunching over to overshadow you entirely before you can make sense of it, face sinking close into the space in between your legs, hot gaze drinking in the sight of the thin strings of arousal that stretch from your pussy to your underwear before they bow and break into the sheets beneath. You watch him hum his approval, your head raised to observe the erotic picture he paints, in between your legs.  

A moan scratches free of your throat, your head falling back in shuddered pleasure when Sylus does not waste a single moment in ruining you; the broad pressure of his tongue you feel against the length of your quivering cunt as he swipes up a taste for himself before withdrawing once more.  

“Sylus.” You protest, fingers rushing to catch at his hair to pull.  

His gravelly laughter is devious against the inside of your thigh — so close to where you want him. “That’s a beautiful sound you’re making there, kitten.” He blows a hot breath against your centre, your pussy spasming at that bare action. “Let’s see if you’ve got any more of those for me.” 

“Sylus.” You try and let the irritation ring in your tone this time but all it sounds to your ears is a licentious plead.  

“I hear you, sweetheart.” He pulses a kiss against your outer folds. “I made you a deal, didn’t I?” He wrests his now loose shirt off his body before his touch returns to you once more, this time without the barrier of clothes in between you both.  

You're entirely vulnerable and naked underneath him, held to his mercies as his forearms flex about the pliance of your thighs as he hooks them about his broad shoulders. “You’re going to let me make good on my word tonight,” your legs spasm against his back — useless — as he keeps them held within steeled grips at your knees; large fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. “and witness it too, with your entire body.”  

You feel the corded, hard strength of the muscles of his back flexing beneath the heels of your feet as Sylus ducks closer to your slit to suck at the pleasured bead of your apex. Your hips fly up on instinct at that first brush of stimulation, a moan crippled free of your lips. His smug smile you feel buried against your pussy when it gushes further against the skewed stretch of those lips.  “And you know I never renege on an agreement once made.” 

Your thoughts blank entirely the next time that adroit tongue lands against your drenched folds, his mouth swallowing you up entirely as he works at your slick with all the practised propensity of a devil set to wrecking you within your sheets.  

You’ve never had a man’s mouth down there before; you didn’t quite think it were possible to feel anything remotely close to what he was doing with your body at the moment.  

Sparks of jolting pleasure thrum throughout the length of your body, you’re not even fully aware of how hard you buck against his mouth. How Sylus thwarts each unconscious attempt of escape by dragging your pussy back to his mouth each time you squirm from the overwhelming sensation.  

His growl of pleasure is what drags part of your hazy attentions back to how white knuckled your grip is within his hair, tugging at the strands as if they were your sole lifeline to sanity. And you were beginning to suspect they were.  

Sylus’ knuckles brush against your tightened clit, knocking a groan of pleasure out of your throat. “You’re so wet.” He hooks a thick, tapered index up into your walls, clenching at his filthy words. “That’s it, sweetheart, keep doing that for me.” His laughter is a deep, hoarse sound. “I’m going to take all you’ve got for me.”  

He laps a path up against the junction of your thigh; a second finger teasing at the rim of your slit before it joins the first, in a slick easy slide.  

“Sylus,” You’re no longer caring; to your sounds, to the fact you’re dripping enough you’ve wet the sheets beneath his thrusting fingers. “Oh God, don’t stop. O-oh. God.” Not caring for the slight twinge of heat that sparks with the roll of your head to catch Sylus watching your entire downfall from in between the space of your legs; fervid scarlet gaze fixated to yours, the bow of your mouth in a constant, pleasured O curve as moans of senseless appreciation and babbled curses tumble from it. Even as his tongue laps a languid path against your outer folds, at screeching odds to the deft fingers he works into you.  

“Yes,” his growl is vehement, pleased. “Scream louder, no one’s going to hear you mewl down here, kitten. Let go.” The squelch of your arousal is loud within your ears, the pads of his terrifyingly nimble digits lighting up nerves against that one spongy spot deep within you that has stars wheeling within your wide gaze.  

And just as you think this is how he’s going to end you — the pinnacle of pleasure — he betrays your expectations once more with the hot slide of his tongue back against your clit. You nearly sob at the stimulation, a silent scream clawing up your bruised throat at how close you feel to breaking.  

“I-If you—” your words are garbled, hard to breathe. You're so, so close to a peak you’ve never fallen off of, in this manner before. “—I’m... hah, going to come.” Never had your own toys or hand or even another human, scrabbled your brains out this hard; a height so vehemently approaching, you’re afraid to fall. 

Sylus seems to understand you even through your incoherent babbling, stretching you open on his fingers in harder thrusts. “Then do it. Come on my tongue, darling.”  His mouth sucks the abused flesh of your clit deep into his mouth. A peak so in sight, you hurtle into it, your pussy spasming about his fingers, his mouth so hard, you’re near thrashing your limbs about the broad strength of his shoulders. Sylus creeps a hand beneath your ass, to lift your back and shove up deeper against his mouth as you sob out his name in senseless prayer.  

“That’s it, you’re so hot like this, you know that, kitten?” His guttural words, muted within your pussy and lost through the white daze of your prolonged orgasmic haze. Sylus continues to lap at you until you’re tumbling into buzzing overstimulation; the heavy weight of him like iron fetters at your legs as you weakly push at his face, his steeled shoulders in whimpered protest.  

“I— give me a break, Sylus.”  

He affords you a modicum of mercy, glistening mouth and chin withdrawing to rise from between the confines of your legs to fix a skewed grin at you. And when you meet his gaze, he makes a deliberate, erotic show of sweeping the broad of his tongue, slow, feral, against the edge of his upper lip.  

His fingers maintain their languid position still within your sensitive walls, each measured thrust has you shivering against the intrusion.  

You cup a hand about his strong neck, dragging him down towards your mouth. His voice low, heated in between the taste of yourself he sweeps into your mouth. “Enjoying yourself?” 

You secrete a hushed sound of approval against his exploring tongue. “I’ve never come this hard in my life,” you confess, breathless. “You’re crazy.”  

“I’ll take that as an enthusiastic compliment.” Knocking that smug grin of his only wider. And then, a softer whisper settles against your wet mouth. “You’re so good for me, sweetie. You drive me insane.”  

You withdraw from him to catch the simmering heat of his fervid desires and affection commingled within that scarlet gaze you’re so taken with. Sweeping a thumb at the clinging wetness of arousal, against the angle of his jaw, you marvel at the sensual sight he paints. “...I’m no different.” You meet his gaze, your honesty heavy on your tongue. 

He chuckles at the confession, canting his head to catch the plush of your thumb against his teeth, worrying at the flesh as he laves it up into his mouth on an obscene suck.  

The way he looks at you has arousal flushing anew within your cheeks; your insides clenching in on the fingers that languorously thrust into you, stretching you open. Lashes nearly trembling shut when his thumb traces a whispered touch against your clit before withdrawing, having your hips juddering up into his hand.  

Restless digits quiver down the length of his sculpted torso, working at releasing him from the rest of his un-wanted clothing; cut, well-tailored pants you’d more than once found yourself admiring him in but at the moment, you couldn’t survive a second longer without uncovering the entirety of his captivating body to your gaze. Sylus gently pulls out of your pussy to help you along, thick fingers running along yours at his buckle to slide is smooth out its confines before his Evol curls about the belt to toss it easy, at the side of his bed. His pants and briefs follow soon after and you nearly choke at the sight of him revealed at last to your gaze. 

Sylus’ cock is a devastating thing of beauty; thick and intimidating enough it has you salivating at the mere sight of it. You’ve never seen a man this big, blessed in both length and girth, it has your cunt clenching in on need at the sight of him. You wonder how he’d feel against your tongue if you tried taking him in, parched lips you wet with a swipe of tongue, parting at the thought.  

“Like what you see?” His self-pleased words wrench you out of your self-imposed stupor until you see that smug grin painting his face too. Your fingers delicately curve about the girth of him in a gentle squeeze; has grin falling open in a low, breathy laugh of arousal.  

Your fingers unable to wrap him up entirely within a fist, even as you stroke a slow, steady path up across his length. “You’re right,” you murmur in wanton desire. “I do like what I see.”  

“Such an honest tongue.” he groans low, in pleasure at your languid ministrations. Hooking a thumb at your bottom lip to tease it into your mouth and onto the wet muscle.  

“Honesty isn’t the only thing it can provide, you know.” You bait, in breathless, risqué whispers around the intrusion of his thumb in your mouth, sucking at him in imitation of what you truly desire from him. 

Sylus hums a pleased sound, withdrawing his finger to sweep it across your swollen lips. “Later.” He silences your protests with the wet ingress of his digits back into your walls. “You’ll have me, you have my word. But right now...” Your broken moan mingles with the guttural sigh that tumbles from his lips to witness your face shatter in pleasure. “we’re here to see how good I can make you feel, aren’t we, kitten? So, lay back.” He eases the flat of his palm in between your breasts to push. “And watch how else I ruin you tonight.” 

You moan at his filthy threat of a promise, hips rolling into the fingers he’s pressed into you, their rhythmic propulsions turning faster with each moment until he has your crest building once more. 

“Sylus.” you gasp out, fingers spasming around the wrist buried in between your quaking legs. 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He draws down closer, body crowding yours against the sheets, the heat of his breath sultry against your sweat soaked skin. You feel the weight of his arousal ghost a searing path against your thigh and jump at the stimulation. 

“You.” you plead. “I need you so stop teasing me now, Sylus. I’ll—” 

His lips capture yours in an incendiary kiss, a violent clash of tongue, drinking your startled mewls up into his own as his fingers curl about the back of your head to hold steady underneath his assault. “You sure you’re ready for it?” He rolls his hips against yours once more in emphasis, making you shiver underneath the intimidating heat of his arousal. 

“I am, I can take it.” you insist against his wet tongue. “And even if I can’t, you promised you’d show me how good it can get, didn’t you?” You shiver. “So quit edging me any longer and put it inside me.” Your back arches in need at a particularly adept press of his fingers. “Sylus.” 

His answering groan at your fervent desires burns you higher, his soaked fingers dragging out of your clenching walls. “You really do know how to rile me up, don’t you, sweetheart?” Large hands settle about the swell of your hips as Sylus presses himself in between your legs. Letting the head of his cock, at long last, stroke at the wetness of your cunt, gathering moisture on to it. So close. 

His hips undulate in languid pleasurable strokes in between the fall of your legs, and each time the flared head of his cock bumps up at the tight bead at your apex, your hips try and jump against the caged strength of his hands holding you down. Every single stroke — up, down — has your breaths turning laboured in need, each single time he brushes down close to your hole, you clench in on instinctual emptiness, wanting to pull him deeper into you.  

“Some restraint, kitten. We don’t want you too overwhelmed too fast.” A low sound of disapproval soughs past his lips at your squirming. “Impatience is not a good look on a Hunter of your repute.” 

Your mouth falls open on a silent groan; hooking a leg about the snatch of his waist, you try and urge him into you. Earning an amused, guttural laugh for your efforts. “You’ve had me plenty ready. You’re just baiting me at this point.” 

“But you like me being this way, don’t you?” And God help you, if your brain wasn’t entirely mushed at what he’s done to you, you would’ve tried refute his observations with a lie of your own. But in this moment, you let him have his victory.  

Sylus curves a palm about the crook of your leg, fingers ghosting the underside of sensitive skin, up, until his hold catches at your knee. Keeping you fixed firm down onto the bed with the other, while he rolls his hips against you once more. “Keep holding tight,” he taps at your knee hooked at his back one last time before his hand drifts to curl about the base of his cock, pressing more of your slick up against the bulbous head.  

The first breach of him burns you open in pleasurable bliss, you hiss at the intrusion, back arching on instinctual chase of the man you’re so drunk on. Just the head in has you dizzy around him, grateful for the anchor of his large hand holding you grounded, at your hip.  

More of his member pushes past your rim; Sylus’ grunt of pleasure breaking in the tight scrunch of his brow in concentration. A thumb flits about your pinched bottom lip, end to end, before he’s coaxing it open with a firmer press of the pad of his digit against it. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.” You don’t think your body is capable of drawing air in at all but you try and trudge past the closure of your throat, gulping in a few, needed breaths. “That’s it, yeah, take me in. Slowly now.”  

It’s only when your body shudders underneath his with the ingress of almost his entire length settled into you do you realize the sheer, unyielding size of him inside, Sylus’ throaty groan of arousal, he bites into the sensitive skin of your wrist he’s had curled in between thick digits. Your cunt feels stretched impossibly wide around the shape of him, in a manner that has you whimpering on his next few testing strokes up into your walls. Sending him curling impossibly deep on each long, heavy thrust up into you until you feel him nudging, as if at the very ends of you.  

Your head rolls in restless need across the down of your pillows, your fingers skittering up the length of his arms, sinking harsh into the taut muscles of his biceps. Angry crescents you’re sure you’re marking into the skin but all it seems to do to him is make him push into you with greater need, approval heavy in the fervid grunts that issue from his mouth.  

One of his hands steals beneath your body to press in between your shoulder blades, guiding your body deeper against his as his hips piston into you. The wet squelch of your arousal heavy in the space, commingling with your damp, thick groans.  

Sylus withdraws from your body on his next slide, nearly all the way out, before he pulses back, slick, without resistance; each time, your body taken by the pleasant shock of how fully he sheathes himself into you, the stretch sending you into a dizzying spiral of mounting need.

And despite it all —  the hazy pleasure, his long, deep strokes into you — your ravenous body needs this man closer, a desire you aren’t able to word coherently. 

Sylus’ diligent handling of you — although, a gesture appreciated — is not what you require of him in the moment. He’s your first in so, so long; desires shuttered in since forever, along with the intense need to be thoroughly loved over by this man; your need to have him fuck you without restraint, after a heart so long spent in warring against its yearning for him, overflowing off the cusp of your poor control. Manifesting in the fingers you rush about the angled cut of his hips to squeeze, your legs tightening their hold at the back of his waist to pull deeper inside.  

Your eyes meet his in fevered haze; a slip of your tongue to drench parched lips, falling open to voice your desires before Sylus’ face crowds your vision. His mouth pulsing a quick kiss of violence against yours, it siphons your entire breath from your lungs at the aggressive curl of his tongue into you. “Alright,” he utters on a wet, hoarse whisper against your lips. No more questions, no more unsurety. “I’ll give you what you need.”  

He’s gingerly worked himself into you up to the near base of him when large hands move to grip on either side of your abdomen, the pads of them pulsing into the pliance of your skin — heated scaffoldings of flesh. Heralding the slow, squelching withdrawal of his cock from your depths up to the tip. Until Sylus plunges back into you with a force vehement enough you see stars white the scape of your vision with the audible slap of hips meeting the back of your ass.  

And it isn’t until he starts driving into you in that punishing pace, manoeuvring your body as if you were a mere doll meant to house his cock do you realize with primal joy that you love how he’s taking you. You’re delirious on the feeling of his cock ramming up into your walls — the massive stretch of him, each single inch of hot, unyielding flesh — hard enough he’s driving you up the sheets, your voice you do not realize is a shrill scream of pleasure.  

Everything — you, him, your hot, clenching insides around him — is all too much, all of a sudden, you’re drowning in the ecstasy of the feeling of him overwhelming your senses.  

And the man above, an unfettered beast; he folds you deeper into the mattress with the ardent swing of his hips, large hands gripping hard onto your waist as he guides your own weak thrusts back onto his cock with ferocious precision. Each single glide of the swollen head of his cock dragging him deliciously against that one spot inside that has you quivering apart around him. A deliberate assault of your sweet weakness. Truly, he knows your body as if he’d had you before several times already; the thought is as exhilarating as it is terrifying, having your pussy spasm around him on instinct, dragging a vicious growl out of him that has you whimpering at the sound.  

The sweat slicked concentration and fervid arousal that knits at his powerful brows is addictive, the heated flush of pleasure and effortless exertion — all of him an erotic sight, meant to throttle you into finishing ruin. The violent tatters of your orgasm you feel crumpling within your belly, fast approaching.  

You try and buck against his hips faster, pace paling in comparison to the near bestial propulsion of his cock into your depths. Sylus groans at a particularly harsh squeeze of your cunt; a hand leaving your waist to feather his knuckles against the drenched slide of sweat and tears at your cheeks you know are ruddy in desire. “You’re taking me so well, kitten, so deep inside that small body.” You might’ve offered a word of approval if your throat wasn’t so swollen from the breathless moans and ruinous pleas he’s knocking out of you instead. “You’re clamping so hard around my cock. Do you not want to let me go?” His large hand drifting against the lower stretch of your abdomen, before he presses the flat of his palm in deep, as if he could feel for the place his cock pounds up as if against your very womb, angling his hips to brush at the sensitive bundle of nerves at your apex and you nearly weep at the tight stimulation.  

“C-Clo—” is all the words your battered throat can manage out before your head’s falling back against the pillows, tear-strained gaze blown wide with the unrelenting intensity of his pillage of your body.  

But Sylus groans in approval, understanding of your broken prompts. “I’ve got you. Let that pretty pussy of yours weep more for me, sweetheart.” 

You moan unabated at the filth that issues from his lips, your body immediately moving to obey his instruction in the spasm of your walls.  

His hand slides against the length of your hooked leg to hoist it up and over a broad shoulder as his large frame arches over you, nearly folding you in half. The new angle driving each of his wild thrusts hard against your swollen clit. Your back nearly snapping with the force of its curve up towards him with your next shrill scream of his name. “What a perfect, perfect girl for me.”  

You're no longer coherent, a garbled speech and cotton head your constant companions — only dimly aware of the muted sounds of wood striking against concrete walls as Sylus drives your body violently up against the headboard. The distant absence of pain you only realize is possible when your cheek curls sideways to sink against the simmering warmth of the red and obsidian mesh of his Evol, keeping your head pillowed against the strength of his thrusts.  

His face descends towards you, a thick hand easing beneath sweat soaked locks to grip at your neck, holding firm for the ravenous mouth that plunders yours, choking your moans against his tongue. Your spit trails useless past swollen lips, Sylus’ tongue immediately following a broad path against your jaw, your chin to lick at the combined essence of sweat and spit. His guttural moan at the taste, sending you nearly into your orgasm, so close at hand, you’re spasming useless about the great length of him. 

Long, tapered digits flex about the delicate expanse of your neck, coaxing your pleasure-drunk gaze up towards his.  “The way you’re looking right now...” You catch the flex of his other arm at the corners of your vision as it slinks in between your bodies. “a man could get addicted, sweetie.” His thumb presses against the abused bead of your apex in that instant, knocking a scream free of your parched throat, body arching in the slick slide of your breasts pressed flush against the broad planes of his chest. Even that stimulation at your nipples is too much; the heat in between your legs tempered to an inferno.  

The precise, perfect strikes of his cock into your walls, along with the insistent pinch and press of your clit in between adroit index and thumb has your crest rising. White hot heat undulates through your entire body. The merciless sting of a delicious bite you feel Sylus sink at your straining neck, right beneath your jaw, “Come for me now, sweetheart,” accompanying the hammering thrusts of his cock, his thumb at your bundle of nerves is what finally has you ripping apart on an orgasm so intense your gaze blanks entirely.  

Jaw falling open on a shriek so unlike yours, you do not recognize the sound of your own battered voice until Sylus presses two thick digits into your slack mouth to toy at your wet tongue as if he could capture that sound for himself. “You’re so damn beautiful.” His pace unrelenting through the violence of your orgasm, stretching your own peak so long, spasming about the wet heat of him until Sylus’ hips too stutter as he finds his release into your welcoming depths.  

Pulse after pulse of ejaculate so abundant, hot, it drives you into another release — or perhaps, you’d never even stopped coming — a pinnacle so high, your fall from it is prolonged, pleasurable. Your mouth sucking hard at his fingers, willing them to serve your anchor.  

Sylus’ gaze meets yours from across the small pocket of space in between your faces, heated and stifled with your breaths. Scarlet eyes, simmering, pupils blown so wide in low settling arousal as the two of you breathe deep in unison. Several moments of reprieve, you allow your bodies as you come down from your highs.  

A small part of you distantly realizes a single session with Sylus has effectively ruined you for life and you’re unsure if you’re bemoaning the fact or thrilling in delight at it. You think you just might be far more infatuated with this infuriating man than you’d initially thought and the notion of being this adoring of him mildly terrifies you. Just as the sliver of tenderness that threads through that garnet gaze as he pushes back sweat soaked strands from your face to study you. “You alright there, sweetie?”  

You can’t deny it any longer. “Never been better.” you wheeze past a sore throat. And God help you, the grin that skews at his beautiful mouth at your answer has your heart refusing to settle into rest, even after your mind-numbing release.  

“That good, was it?” You do not have the energy to refute him, settling for a light slap at his bicep. 

His arms flex about your body before he rolls you both over. Releasing himself, slow, from your depths — you groan weakly at the muted stimulation before he hoists himself onto his arm.  

You reach a hand forwards, curving it about his face, thumb sketching at the angle of his jaw. “Stay with me tonight.” you ask of him quietly.  

Mild surprise flickers within blood-red garnet before it’s replaced by the tender quirk of a strong brow. “Didn’t plan on leaving, sweetheart.” He tips his head further into the crook of your palm, pulsing a quick kiss onto the skin. “Sleep tight, now. Your eyes are glazing over.” 

And for that one moment, you listen, letting the warmth of his engulfing embrace shepherd you into dreams of scarlet eyes and amused smiles — the only ones you’ve been able to think about for a long time now. 

End Notes: Tagging as requested: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @bitches4lifebro , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @chocomii-chan

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM!

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[sunsets-and-crows]

Sleepy confessions

SFW - The Softest Sylus I could write.

I was feeling far too many feelings today.

I wrote this because I really needed to feel a little loved today and if a man isn’t going to do it, I’ll write it for myself. It’s deeply self-indulgent but this is the kind of love I want. Not just any love, but the kind that is all-consuming and unwavering. I’ve never been in love, nor have I ever truly felt loved and as I approach my 30s, I’m feeling it! Maybe this kind of love is unrealistic, maybe I’ve read too many stories that paint devotion in impossible hues. But if I were to be loved, this is how I would want it.

Sylus had always found the quiet unsettling. 

His life had always been loud and chaotic, dangerous even. His past life, too, had been filled with sound, of dragon wings beating through the skies and fire roaring over cities. When those cities came for him, their shouts resonated through the air, filling his days with a cacophony that became his white noise, his comfort.

Now, the sounds of guns blazing and motorcycles purring were his norm. Days were his nights and his nights were chaos, loud chaos. He was used to it, thrived in it even.

Silence usually meant that something was wrong. That something was building and chaos would erupt soon. Silence was deadly. 

But right now, in this moment, with you curled up against him, chest rising and falling, he thought maybe he could learn to love the quiet too. This moment of peace was far too precious, too perfect that he’d be willing to wage war on anything that dared to break the stillness.  

Poor thing.

You’d fallen asleep so quickly, curled on his lap. Your body warm and trusting, your cheek pressed against his chest. He could feel the soft puffs of your breath against the skin bared beneath his robe, the way your fingers had instinctively curled around the fabric at his waist before going slack. 

It was too much. Too tender. Too perfect. 

His heart squeezed dangerously, threatening to burst with emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for milenia. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

His hand moved on its own, trailing down your spine, smoothing over the curve of your back, fingers brushing lightly over your hair. 

Each tiny shift came with the softest little noises of contentment, sounds he wanted to bottle up and keep forever. 

This is what love feels like.

He’d experienced it before, with you. Love that was shouted from rooftops, that set cities aflame and was declared loudly, passionately. 

But this was something else. Quieter. Deeper. Unassuming. An entirely different kind of love to the ones he'd experienced before. 

It crept up on him in the silence and wrapped itself around his heart, squeezing tightly, narrowing its focus to only you. 

It wasn’t a sudden, violent force, like a city razed to the ground. 

No, this was entirely different. It was the moment that lobster realised that the pot was too hot to survive, the only choice was to surrender. 

And in the end, wasn’t that feeling of giving in a relief? 

His throat tightened. His eyes stung.

Sylus exhaled softly, shaking his head gently. “You really do trust me, don’t you?”

The words were barely more than a breath, a desperate attempt to preserve the quiet of the room, but they made that grip on his chest tighten imperceptibly harder.

You had no idea what it meant, how it affected him, to have you like this. Warm and safe in his arms. Completely unguarded. 

Completely his.

He scoffed lightly, remembering the way you had first met in this life. The fear, the hatred in your eyes, the anguish in his. 

“You're impossible,” he murmured, his voice even quieter now, almost reverent. “You know that?”

You stirred slightly, nuzzling into his warmth, but didn’t wake. 

“Of course you don’t. You have no idea.” 

Another sleepy noise escaped past the pout of your lips, and he smiled, warm and soft. 

A little while ago, Luke and Keiran had knocked on the door, the soft sound enough to make a frown crease between your brows. They’d entered to find a glare fixed on them, red piercing eyes telling them that whatever they had to say could wait. 

They left quickly, smart enough to forget the sight before them. 

Sylus’ fingers traced idle patterns along your arm, his touch featherlight. 

You’d tell him off, if you were awake. Tell him to start his day. Order him to tend to Onychinus. You were so selfless, so giving. You’d put anything and anyone else before yourself.

Luckily, he had no such ideals.

Somewhere, far away, the world still existed. There were people waiting for him, needing him. Things that needed his attention, his approval. None of it mattered. 

There was no past. No future. Just this.

Just the steady rhythm of your breathing. Just this moment, stretching infinitely, like a dream he never wanted to wake from.

He was selfish when it came to everything but you. And even then, he was still a little selfish. 

He would keep anyone waiting, if it meant he got to hold you, like this. He’d run his business into the ground for the taste of your lips. 

He had, and would again, raise entire continents to the ground to ensure your safety, uncaring of anyone that resided there. 

Yes, he was selfish.

And he didn’t care. 

A quiet sigh left him. He didn’t deserve any of this. Did he? He had ruined too much, burned too many things and left too many ghosts in his wake. Yet, here you were. Pressed against him, completely at ease. 

His throat constricted. How? How could something as good as you ever belong in the arms of someone like him? 

No he didn’t deserve it, but he would keep it anyway. A dragon’s nature was to hoard. 

His eyes roamed your face, memorising everything. Each freckle. Each eyelash. The soft curve of your lips, parted just slightly with sleep. He reasoned that you had to have been made by some higher force. That somewhere, there was a god that claimed you proudly as their creation. 

He was torn by that. By the idea that there was something or someone else out there that had a right to you. But you were a masterpiece and it was the only way you made sense. 

So if there was a god, let them bear witness. Let them take notes. That his devotion, his heart was offered in quiet surrender to that creation. To you. 

Slowl, with infinite care, he raised a hand to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb over your lips in a barely-there touch. Soft. Delicate. Sacred. He wanted to kiss you, but he wouldn’t. Not yet. He wouldn’t wake you. 

Instead, he leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours, your breaths’ mingling, breathing you in. You smelled warm, like sleep and something sweet, something inherently you. He shut his eyes, just for a moment, letting the sensation settle in his bones.

And when he pulled back he just stared.

Memorising you. Worshipping you.

It had been a long time since he said those words to you.

Reluctant to break the sanctity of the precarious relationship the two of you had, he’d kept them inside. But here, in the hush of the night, with you deep in sleep, he could be honest in ways he never could before. 

“You have no idea how much I…” He swallowed, tilting his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling, willing away the fullness that threatened to spill from his eyes. “How much I love you.”

A single tear dripped down his cheek, tracing a glistening path, evidence of his quiet confession. 

His heartbeat increased, loud and strong in the quiet of the room. He willed it to still, wished he could make it stop beating lest it wake you from your slumber. 

And then-

A sleepy hum. 

A shift of your body. 

And a murmured, drowsy, “Luh you too.”

His breath stopped.

You were barely conscious, probably didn’t even know what you were saying, but his chest ached all the same. A deep overwhelming ache.

He looked down to see your bleary, unfocused eyes gazing back at his. Heavy with lingering sleepiness and slow blinks. 

Your hand cupped his face and swept away more tears that had fallen from his eyes. 

Hands wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tightly, like you were afraid he would let you go. 

Silly thing, he would never let you go. 

Your head nestled into his neck and you pressed a soft kiss to his racing pulse. 

“Love you, Sylus.” 

His arms tightened around you in response, pulling you closer, needing the physical closeness to ground himself, to remind himself that this was real. 

Your breathing deepened again, soft breaths tickling the skin of his neck in a way that promised he’d have a patch of condensation there in a little while. 

He didn’t care. 

“I love you too,” he whispered into the silence of the room. 

His arms flexed around you slightly. His heart, beating a pattern just for you. A silent vow.

This, the two of you, would never be a fleeting moment. It wasn’t something he would allow to slip through his fingers like smoke, something he would lose in the chaos of the life he led. 

No. 

This was eternal.

He would build up a world from dust to ensure your place by his side. To keep you safe, protected, his. 

No matter what happened, he would never let this go.

Never let you go. 

And just like that, he let the silence have him.

➽──────────────────────────────────❥

Well, that was a diary entry disguised as a fanfiction. Enjoy 🥺

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

[qardenofeden]

ushijima wakatoshi is not a man of many words, and when he does talk, he comes across as pretty blunt. but it’s not with ill intent; he means well, he’s just so brutally honest sometimes, which is why you immediately shut down when you hear the words “i don’t like you,” escape his lips.

your classes had just ended, and it’s a friday afternoon when you finally work up the courage to confess to the man who stands before you. the cherry blossoms around you dance in the air, painting a romantic, picture perfect scene between the two of you. your arms are outstretched as you present to him your favorite brand of chocolates.

“i…” you look down in disappointment, avoiding his gaze as much as you could, as if it’d miraculously hide you from him.

“i don’t understand you one bit,” he says, his monotone voice unwavering.

you’re thankful you didn’t bring any of your friends along. this was humiliation at its finest. on the bright side though, it’s a friday and you don’t have any classes after. so you’re free to cry your eyes out and curl up in bed as much as you want.

but these thoughts of yours do little to distract you from the moment, and your eyes can’t help but water a little as you look down and take a shivery breath.

“i asked tendou about you.”

that catches your attention, and suddenly you’re taking a deep breath as you look up in shock. he asked tendou?! now that’s going to spread throughout the entire school!

the tears resting on your eyes reflect the golden sun above. your brows furrow in confusion, and if it stuns wakatoshi, he sure as hell doesn’t show it. “why are you tearing up? you did not even let me finish before crying.”

“what else is there to say, ushijima?” the use of his last name sends a small shock through his veins, and yet ushijima still remains unmoved. “you don’t like m—”

you’re quickly interrupted when he speaks, saying “there it is again.”

and you scoff, because he’s not listening. but maybe you should, so you look behind to see just what he was referring to, but nothing’s there.

“what are you—”

“i feel strange whenever i’m around you.” he interrupts again, before clearing his throat and quickly apologizing. “i’m sorry, i did not mean… you can continue.”

“wait, no, what?” you scoff again in disbelief, brows furrowing as your eyes fidget around, searching for something that can help you understand just what the hell ushijima was talking about.

“when you looked up at me with teary eyes, i felt a pang in my chest,” he says, before continuing like he was explaining his symptoms to the doctor, “and when you referred to me as my last name.”

and finally, ushijima’s unwavering confidence almost looks like it falters as he looks away, breathing an exhale. he speaks again, tone finally somehow… softening. “i feel a different pang though when you visit my practice matches and cheer me on…”

no way. you made the ushijima wakatoshi shy? japan’s number one best ace?

he must be rambling, he thinks, but regardless, if wakatoshi hurt you, he wants to apologize and make up for it. starting by explaining. so, he dismisses his thoughts and continues.

“but, more specifically, i asked tendou why i felt irritated when i saw you tutoring that boy in your class,” he finally looks at you now, confidence returning as he tilts his head slightly to the left, “i have a crush on you too, it seems.”

you’re at a loss for words. because, didn’t he just say, moments prior, that he doesn’t like you?!

“i do not, however, like sweets.”

and you let out a chuckle as you bring your hands up to your chest. maybe it hasn’t fully sinked in, because you still can’t talk.

“i do not understand you because you make me feel all these emotions. and i don’t like what i don’t understand, but…”

ushijima brings his hands to yours, taking the chocolate as he opens it. he takes a bite, and there’s a faint hint of pink in his cheeks.

“there are a few exceptions in life.”

and then you see it. the man before you isn’t ushijima wakatoshi, japan’s top one best ace. it’s wakatoshi, your wakatoshi, whose biggest enemy is the concept of emotions.