#but if you want to ask about any of them then ask away!

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Yuutsum 3

SUMMARY: What if you also have a Tsum? Then your Tsum and the Tsum of the person you like keep giving signs that they like each other?

CHARACTERS: Twisted Tsumderland 3 Tsumsitters (Ace; Trey; Ruggie; Jamil; Vil; Idia; Malleus; Silver)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WARNING: Spoilers for the Twisted Tsumderland 3 Event and the Tsumsitter cards Vignettes.

WORD COUNT: An average of 810 words per character.

COMMENTS: This was originally a request from @taruruchi for my 1k celebration. Which you can read here. And since so many readers liked it, I decided to do what I normally do when this happens: Do this for ALL the characters! Grouped by event in this case.

The request also includes Jamil's and Silver's tsums, but I wrote them before part 3 was even announced on the JP server. In other words, I had to pretty much guess what their tsums would be like, but now I could write them more accurately.

And I ended up get carried away writing Vil's and Idia's parts. 😅

I hope you enjoy 😉

Yuutsum 1 (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

CONTEXT: Like the original Twisted Tsumderland 3 event, this takes place after the events of the first and second Twisted Tsumderland. And, surprise, your Tsum is back! But it’s the only one, all the other Tsums that came with it are completely new visitors.

Just like the other times, your Tsum seemed restless and wanted to leave Ramshackle Dorm, probably to go look for the other tsums. You decide to take a walk around the school building first and you notice a gathering in the cafeteria.

“If you give it devoted, loving care, I'm sure it'd be willing to show its gratitude!” You hear Ace's voice say from behind a wall of other students.

You come closer, with your tsum in your arms.

“So... Who wants to look after the tsum?!”

“I'll do it!” a Scarabia student offers.

“What are you talking about?” A Pomefiore student counterposes. “That's gonna be me!”

And an argue begins. You stand on your tiptoes and crane your neck to look over some students' shoulders and see an Ace-tsum on the table.

“Okay, easy, guys. You can all take turns trying your hand at looking after it.” Ace interrupts. “If things go well, you might get to see more tricks. And hey, if they don't do any, you can just return it tonight.”

Even though you know this is about Ace and his tsum, you can't help but feel a little sorry for the things Ace is saying. It's like he just wants to get rid of his tsum. Poor little guy. And your tsum agrees.

“I can take care of it!” Your voice rings out, Ace and Deuce recognizing it immediately.

The students in front of you turn and see that you have another tsum in your arms. They make way for you while commenting on how cute it is.

“(Y/N)?!” Ace and Deuce say in unison.

You lean over to look at Ace-tsum who is looking at you with bright, surprised eyes. You say you can take care of it since Ace doesn't want to. Your tsum jumps from your arms to Ace-tsum's side. You add that you have your tsum to help you supervise it and that you already have some experience with an Ace. He blushes a little.

“Wait (Y/N)!” Deuce says.“This is supposed to be Ace and my task. And you already have your tsum to take care of.”

“Don't worry, Deuce. We both can take care of it. Right, Tsum?” Your Tsum agrees and rubs its cheek against Ace-Tsum's cheek. “Better us than someone who treats it like a burden.” But Ace-tsum moves away from your tsum and Ace grabs your arm to pull you with him to talk to you alone.

“You dummy!” He tells you in a lower voice. “Listen, I'm not just trying to get rid of my tsum, okay?! I'm trying to find someone who adores it so much that they would love to fawn over it and take care of it. This will be better than being with someone who is only taking care of it out of obligation.”

You ask, then, why can't you take care of his tsum.

“Because I was trying to get some idiot to do it, not you!”

Then you hear and see that more students have joined the group that fawns over Ace-tsum. And it seemed like they were finding something cute?

You two go back to the table and see your tsums having fun with each other. Ace-tsum was showing magic tricks to your Tsum and seemed happier with your Tsum's surprised reaction than with the students' applause. Your tsum approached Ace-tsum and began to rub their cheeks against each other, like cuddling. Ace blushed again.

“Fine...” Ace gives up. “It seems like it wants to be with your tsum anyway.”

“Why don't we all take care of the tsums together again?” Deuce suggests, “Like we did when mine was here.”

You and your tsum agree.

“Yeah, I guess we can do that.” Ace says, then smirks. “At least now I can split the work between three.”

Surprisingly, Ace's Tsum is much calmer when it's around your Tsum. In addition to being extremely affectionate with your Tsum, it also seems to really enjoy impressing it with magic tricks and things like that. As if it loved having your tsum's attention and affection back, completely ignoring Ace's embarrassment.

Your tsum wanted to go somewhere, so you pick it up and let it guide you out of Ramshackle Dorm. You pass the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop and arrive at the Hall of Mirrors. Your tsum wants you to cross the mirror to Heartslabyul.

You do so, enter the building and you end up crossing paths with Trey in the hallway. He was carrying a cake container. You feel your tsum move slightly in your arms when it sees him.

“Hello (Y/N).” Trey greets you. “I see your tsum is back.” He smiles at it and you feel it move again. “This time one similar to me showed up too, so I'm also tsumsitting. I assume you're here to see it.” He chuckles seeing you and your tsum nodding. “It is in the lounge. But before that.” He opens the cake container revealing a beautiful cake with icing and grapes decorating it, and some slices already missing. “Do you want to try a slice? Tsum decorated it.”

If you like grapes, he will be happy to see you eating a slice. If you don't like them and are sad because you would like to try the cake, He will suggest that you go to the kitchen and take out just one piece that doesn't have grapes for you to taste.

“Here.” He says taking just a forkful of the icing cake. “This one doesn't have grapes.” He holds out the fork with the piece of cake in your direction.

You can take the fork and eat it yourself or you can eat it while he holds the fork. If you do this last one, he will laugh and then smirk slightly. Independently of what you do, you'll feel your tsum moving in your arms again, but not enthusiastically.

Trey asks if everything is okay with your tsum and you answer that it might be sad because it can't taste the cake, after all tsum don't eat.

“Oh, don't worry.” He says to your tsum with a sweet smile. “You liking the way it looks is good enough already.”

Your tsum makes that happy tsum sound and suddenly jumps out of your arms towards Trey who catches it and you see it nestling in his arms.

“Ha ha ha. Your tsum is more cheeky than mine. No, that's not a bad thing. I find it quite cute actually.”

If you are more outgoing, your tsum will make that happy sound again and smile at him with its eyes. If you are shy, your tsum will shrink a little and hide its face in his arms.

He will, happily, carry your Tsum in his arms to the lounge where his Tsum and other students are, but when the three of you get there...

“Is everyone done? I'll get the dishes - uh...” Trey and you see what appears to be his tsum attacking students with a toothbrush. “What’s going on here?”

Cater explains the whole madness with Tsum wanting everyone to brush their teeth. Trey ends up taking his Tsum's side and the students run to brush their teeth. Cater tries to apologize by saying that it took him longer to eat and even tries to say that he wanted to spend some time with your tsum. But it's no use, both Treys look at him with a menacing smile.

“Ah, I'm sorry! I swear I'll brush therm! Don't come near me with that smile on your face!” And he leaves the lounge as well.

Only Riddle, you, Trey and your two tsums remain. Trey-tsum points his toothbrush at you with that smile.

“Let's give (Y/N) a pass this time.” Trey defends you. “They are from another dorm so their toothbrush and toothpaste are not here.”

Trey-tsum lowers the toothbrush in agreement. Your Tsum jumps out of Trey's arms and lands next to his Tsum. They both make a happy sound and the two begin to rub their cheeks against each other as if cuddling.

“Your tsum is very affectionate, isn't it?” Trey comments with a smile.

Trey-tsum jumps onto your shoulder, presses its face against your cheek as if it were giving you a kiss, and jumps back to your tsum’s side. Then the two jump onto one of the sofas and snuggle up together as if they were nesting.

“How cute.” Riddle comments with a slightly mocking smile seeing Trey blush.

You were taking a walk around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you heard Jack's voice calling you.

“Hey (Y/N), glad I found you.” Jack says. You turn around and he sees your Tsum in your arms who greets him smiling with its eyes. “Your tsum is back? So you should already know that other tsums have appeared too.”

You say you had already assumed that and ask if he was looking for you.

“More or less. The truth is that I was looking for someone who could help Ruggie with his tsum.”

You feel your tsum move in your arms when it hears Ruggie's name. Jack tells you that everything seemed to be going well between them until they started arguing, or rather fighting over the money they earned. Your tsum has the same reaction as you, probably an unsurprised sigh.

You agree to help and go with Jack to Savanaclaw. You find Ruggie and his tsum in the lounge fighting with each other. Riggie has an envelope in his outstretched hand trying to get it away from the tsum, while the tsum jumps at Ruggie to try to get to the envelope while hitting him.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and sneaks up on them while they are focused on fighting each other. When it is close enough, it prepares itself and as soon as it sees an opening, it jumps and takes the envelope from Ruggie's hands. Then it runs to you with the envelope where its mouth would be and jumps back into your arms, handing you the envelope.

Ruggie looked at your tsum and you with the most threatening look you've ever seen on him, until he realized it was you and his expression changed drastically and his ears went down. His Tsum's reaction was the same. He even stutters your name in surprise.

“And h-hey, your tsum is back!” He tries to divert the conversation and ease the situation.

You don't fall for that and ask why they were fighting over the money. Ruggie explained to you that he still tried to give 20% to his Tsum since it doesn't need money to eat or things like that and that's why it seemed fair to him. But his tsum didn't like the idea and was trying to keep most of the money.

You ask your own tsum if that money is the same as in the tsum world, basically asking if it would be of any use to Ruggie-tsum, and your tsum shakes its head no.

“See?! It's not even any use to you. And I would be generous enough to give you twenty percent.”

Ruggie's tsum turns against him again, your tsum jumps out of your arms and throws itself at Ruggie-stum, hitting it. But it doesn't hit your tsum to retaliate, instead it tucks its tail between its legs and lowers its ears while your tsum seems to scold it.

Ruggie laughs at that situation and approaches you asking, also with his ears down and his tail between his legs, if you could give him back the envelope. But you reveal that, knowing him, you knew that he was not taking care of the tsum, but rather taking advantage of it to earn more money with its work.

“Hey, The tsum was the one who wanted to work for m- I mean with me. We earned that money by working together by choice.”

“So why not split it fifty-fifty?” You suggest.

“WHAT?! Are you cra-”

“If one of you worked as hard as the other then you deserve the same amount, don't you?”

He tries to bargain by reiterating that Tsums don't need to eat, but you continue the discussion saying that if it's not like that they won't stop fighting and it will never be resolved. If Ruggie keeps rejecting ot, your tsum will throw itself at his head to hit him. And then he will finally give in and split the money 50-50.

After that your tsum will convince Ruggie-tsum to just rest with it, trying to push it onto one of the lounge chairs. But instead Ruggie-tsum seemed to want to play with your tsum and the two of them started play fighting like two cubs. Which ends up looking more like they are hugging and cuddling.

Ruggie comments that despite what happened they seem to really like each other. After playing with each other for a while, Ruggie-tsum will come over to you to see if it can get some petting from you for being so cute. And if so, it'll turn over on its back so you can give it belly rubs. Ruggie will tell you that you're spoiling his tsum while trying not to show that he's jealous.

You find out that a Tsum similar to Jamil has appeared and is with him in Scarabia by crossing paths with Kalim while you were taking a walk with your Tsum around the school campus. Needless to say, Kalim was super happy to see your tsum again.

On the way to Scarabia you could feel the enthusiasm of your tsum. When you arrive, Jamil and his tsum are in the lounge playing a card game.

The two Jamils realize that someone has entered the lounge. They look at whoever has entered just to greet them, but as soon as they see that it is you, they both smile.

“Hello (Y/N). I see your tsum is back.”

Your tsum jumps from your arms and approaches Jamil's tsum. When it gets close enough, they brush each other's cheeks. Jamil blushes and pulls his hood a little tighter.

They will finish the game they were playing and then invite you and your tsum to play with them. You will play against your tsum, Jamil will teach you and his tsum will teach your tsum while you both play. Jamil will try to make you win, while Jamil-tsum is trying to make your tsum win. And perhaps for this reason, he teaches you by whispering in your ear so that the tsums don't hear your plays. Even if you don't win, Jamil will say that you played well and will be happy that you understood how to play.

You play two or three more times. Whenever you or your tsum win, it's because Jamil and his tsum agreed to lose to see you both happy. But in the last round Jamil-tsum climbs onto your lap while your tsum goes onto Jamil's lap. Thus forming pairs for the last round.

While Jamil-tsum helps you with the best moves, Jamil asks your tsum for its opinion with a cute smile. They both know that your tsum can't help him win, but he enjoys interacting with it in the same way he enjoys interacting with you.

The two teams end up tied. There is a good chance that the bouth Jamils planned this result.

You were going to get up so Jamil could prepare something for the two of you to have a snack, when you heard something. The sound of an insect coming in and cetting closer to you. Jamil jumps and runs to the door leaving your tsum behind while his tsum uses you to hide. You feel it trembling against you. The insect lands on one of your cards and you see that it is a... little ladybug.

If your reaction is something like, ‘Aww, a cute ladybug.’ Jamil will complain, outraged.

You ask Jamil to bring you some jar with a lid with holes and leaves inside. When he asks you what for, you say that you're going to put the ladybug inside and release it in Ramshackle Dorm's garden. He thinks you're crazy but that's okay as long as you lock that thing up and take it away. He brings you an empty spice jar with two leaves inside. You ask if they are poisonous plants, he sighs and says no. You smell the leaves and they seem normal.

The ladybug was on your finger, you open the jar to put it inside but it flies back towards Jamil who screams and runs away again. When the ladybug returns, it goes after Jamil-tsum, who also starts to run away through the lounge. The ladybug finally lands on your tsum's head and the two of you put the insect in the jar and close it. You tell Jamil it's done.

When he comes back, you try your best to contain your laughter as you remember him running away from a ladybug, but he notices your little smile and looks at you sullenly, despite thanking you.

Something similar seems to happen with the tsums, but your tsum dosen't contain its laughter and Jamil-tsum attacks it with what appears to be tickles. After your tsum surrenders the two seem to start cuddling each other.

Jamil is embarrassed by this and pulls his hood even further to hide his blushing face.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you arrived at the Courtyard. A group of Pomefiore students focused on photographing something separated you from Vil and Rook on the other side. You and your tsum noticed that they were photographing Vil's tsum, and it seemed to be enjoying the photoshoot itself.

Your tsum jumps from your arms to the ground and tries to pass between the feet of some students to get closer to Vil-tsum. But those students notice something moving near them and look down at your tsum.

“Aw, it's another tsum.” One of the students says.

“Yeah, but this one doesn't look like anything special.” Another student comments.

“In fact, it looks so ordinary.” A third student agrees. “Could you please not interfere with Vil's Tsum photos?”

Your tsum still tried to advance a little further, but the students stopped it by putting their feet in its way. And even if you were complaining, they didn't care, they were in the middle of a photo shoot, the staff and spectators shouldn't interfere.

“Listen, if your tsum was half as beautiful as Vil's tsum we might still consider it, but I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.”

With this, your tsum becomes too sad to keep trying and returns depressed to you. It doesn't even jump into your arms, you have to bend down and pick it up.

Meanwhile, the photo shoot stops abruptly and you hear some students say: “What's wrong?”, “Why do you want to stop suddenly?”, “Did we do something wrong?”, “Have we crossed boundaries?”

You see the students in front of you make way for Vil's tsum. When it sees you, its eyes shine, but when it sees your tsum, sad and curled up in your arms it gets upset and turns aggressively towards the students.

They realize that the tsum is upset with them for insulting your tsum, but it doesn't know which one was and they start saying it was the other one.

“You're the one who said it didn't look like anything special!”

“’In fact, it looks so ordinary.’ that's what YOU said”

“And who said their tsum wasn't even half as beautiful as Vil's tsum?”

“At least have the decency to admit your rudeness.” Vil appears, also unpleased, and with Rook beside him. “None of you have the right to decide who can or cannot approach the tsum. It is the one who decides who deserves such a privilege.”

“What a disappointment to have dormmates with such little tolerance for other unique types of beauty.” Rook says sadly. “And so insensitive too. ‘I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.’ Which of you has the courage to claim such a phrase?” Rook looks at the three main suspects with an amused smile but a menacing look.

Both Vil and his tsum got angry upon hearing this.

“It was him!” The other two pointed to the culprit.

“It is also quite ugly to denounce someone so shamelessly.” Vil rebuked them and clapped his hands decisively twice. “The photo shoot is over. Go back to your duties. And the three of you have a meeting scheduled with me later in the Pomefiore dorm. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes Housewarden. We regret our words.”

“I sure hope you do. But that won't lessen your punishment. You may go now.”

As the Pomefiore students leave, the others glaring at the three who insulted your tsum, Vil-tsum turns back to you and jumps into your arms, knowing that you would catch it. It cuddles up to your tsum as if it were comforting it, rubbing their cheeks and giving it kisses, or at least that's what it seemed like since tsum don't have mouths.

“How can they belittle such a demonstration of love and such a beautiful couple!” Rook says dramatically. “Je suis choqué!”

When you start having trouble holding two tsums at once, Vil approaches you and puts his arms around yours to help you.

“I am deeply sorry for the atrocities you heard.” He tells you in a soft voice but then smiled smugly. “You can help me think of an appropriate punishment if you like.”

Knowing that you were having difficulty holding them, your tsums end up jumping from your embrace to the ground. Your tsum still looks a little sad and Vil's tsum doesn't take its attention away from your tsum.

“Don't listen to them.” Vil says to your tsum. “Just because you don't fit their standards doesn't mean you're not beautiful. You should only care about the opinion of those who you really care about and who care about you.” He looks at you. “They are right about one thing, you two look ordinary.” He will smile in amusement if you look at him sulkily. “But who said that was ugly? The beauty of the ordinary is the most difficult to perceive, only those who truly recognize it deserve to appreciate it. And if you want to know my opinion, two extraordinary things become flashy, but one common thing brings balance and harmony. The kind of thing whose value and importance you only realize when it disappears.” He looks back at your tsum. “Don't listen to the opinions of ignorant people.”

Rook was crying with emotion and murmured how beautiful that moment had been. Your tsum, also moved by his words, jumps into Vil's arms. He almost got a fright, but he caught your tsum.

“*sigh* How cheeky.” Vil said, smiling softly. He holds your tsum as if he were holding a beloved baby.

Vil-tsum approaches you calmly, with an aura of dignity and sophistication. You lower yourself, kneeling on the ground and it climbs onto your lap. Like a cat demanding in the way you pet it.

Vil-tsum won't let anyone else take a picture of it unless they want to take a picture of it and your tsum together. If your tsum is too shy and doesn't want to take pictures, then Vil-tsum will also refuse.

Vil's tsum will try to convince him to give you and your tsum a beauty treatment. And if it doesn't succeed the first time, he'll steal Vil's cosmetics for your tsum. But since it's you, Vil ends up accepting.

Vil will have to keep an eye on Rook because he will become obsessed with your tsums together.

Your tsum was restless in Ramshackle Dorm and seemed to want to go somewhere. You picked it up and let it lead you out of the dorm. Your tsum made you pass through the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop until you reached the Hall of Mirrors, where it made you pass through the mirror that lead to Ignihyde. Once inside it doesn't take long for Ortho to appear to greet you.

“Hi (Y/N)!” He looks at the tsum in your arms. “Oh! You're back too. It's great to see you again! Are you here because of my big brother's tsum?”

And now you know why your tsum wanted to go there. Your tsum nods its little head. Ortho doesn't even bother to tell you where they are because they can only be in one place, but he says he'll have to leave because of the meeting with the Film Research Club and wishes you luck in dealing with his brother and his tsum. You go to Idia's room and knock on the door.

“Ortho? Did you forget something?” Idea asks instead of opening the door.

“No. It's me, (Y/N).”

He stammers your name in surprise. “W-w-w-what are you doing here?!”

You explain that your tsum was the one who took you to Ignihyde and that Ortho told you that an Idia lookalike had also appeared. Suddenly you hear a commotion inside the room and Idia asking in panic what it was doing.

The bedroom door opens. You see Idia lying on the floor in the middle of the room and in front of you an Idia-tsum staring at you. When your eyes meet his, his own sparkle and the blue in his hair takes on pink hues at the tips.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and lands right on top of Idia-tsum. What no one expected, not even your tsum, was that Idia-tsum's reflex would be to take advantage of this to take your tsum, as if kidnapping it, to a kind of fortress made of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room.

“Welcome to the club.” Idia tells you as he stands up. “It also kidnapped my tablet. Now it has two captives.”

As soon as you enter, the door closes behind you again. You go to the cardboard boxes, kneel down and look inside. You see, through a gap in the boxes, the two tsums very close together playing a co-op game on the tablet.

“S-sorry about that.” Idia tells you embarrassed. “I can't get along with this tsum. I've been trying to get my tablet back for hours but it is so stubborn. ...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You think about it and say that if they stay calm like that until it's time for them to go back to their world, there shouldn't be any problems, right?

“OF COURSE THERE IS! MY LOGIN BONUSES! Why do you think I'm trying to get my tablet back?! Listen, I don't care what the tsums do as long as they don't cause me any problems or interfere with my games. And this tsum manages to do both. My room wasn't this disorganized before, but it keeps fighting me. You're good with delinquents, help me!”

If your tsum is really like you, it wants to get Idia-tsum out of those cardboard boxes like you want to get Idia out of his room. Which means if you have an idea you know your tsum will help you. You think about that co-op games and how Idia can be competitive when he believes he have a good chance of winning. Aka: in video games.

So you have an idea, but to do so you have to whisper the idea in the Idia's ear so the tsums don't hear. When you get closer he gets flustered. You suggest playing a 2 vs 2 game and invite the tsums to play, and encourages him to be as provocative as possible to ensure that his tsum accepts the challenge.

“And then what?" He whispers back to you "We'll have to entertain it while I get the tablet back.”

“I can handle that part.” you guarantee him.

You both follow the plan, luckily Idia has 4 controllers, probably because they are all different models. At first, Idia-tsum doesn't fall into the trap, but soon Idia's smugness kicks in

“Of course you don't accept the challenge. You don't even have opposing thumbs, how could you beat us?” The boxes move. “Or is it because you're a noob?” The boxes move again and it looks like Idia has an idea for the ultimate strike. “Oh, I see, it’s because your teammate is a normie who sucks at games.”

One of the boxes jumps like a spring and almost hits Idia in the face, as if whatever was underneath it had exploded. Idia-tsum jumps towards one of the controls with an irritated look and his hair completely red. Idia himself gives one of those scared YEPs, but for some reason he smiles when he sees that reaction from his tsum.

Your tsum jumps to the other controller next to Idia-tsum who looks at it and waves like a true duo preparing for battle. Idia gets prepered beside you and gives you a similar determined smile before he starts the game.

During the fighting game, it was as if Idia had forgotten about his tablet and whenever it seemed like you were having trouble he would get upset on your behalf and defend your character with his. His tsum did the same to your tsum.

It was only at the end of the round that Idia suddenly remembered the tablet and jumped out of his chair to pick it up from the floor next to the cardboard boxes. His tsum did the same thing, but you managed to catch it in time and held it in your arms with a strong hug. It struggled at first, but when it remembered that it was you who was grabbing it, its hair turned completely pink and it covered its eyes with its little hands.

“I collected...”  Idia raises the tablet in his hands. “The Tablet!”

He looks at you with a triumphant smile, but if you are giving his tsum affection and kisses because it’s so cute, the tips of Idia's hair will also turn pink and he will be flustered.

Your tsum will jump right up to his face and give him some affection too, like rubbing its little face against his cheek.

“H-h-h-h-have you never heard of personal space?!”

You were walking with your tsum in your arms around the school campus when Lilia suddenly appeared.

“You're back!” Lilia surprises you and your tsum by appearing upside down in front of you. “Hi (Y/N)-tsum. It's so good to see you again. This is actually perfect.” He turns around and puts his feet on the ground. “You see, a Malleus-like tsum also appeared.” You feel your tsum move happily in your arms. “And Malleus decided to throw a party for it. I was looking for you to invite you, but now that I see that your tsum is back I know that both Malleus would love to have both of you at the party.

Your tsum gets so excited that it almost falls out of your arms.

“Good thing you're excited, because we're already late. Come with me. The party has already started.”

Lilia accompanies you and your tsum to Diasomnia. The lounge is full of Diasomnia students paying attention to Malleus and his tsum. Lilia asks you to follow him down the stairs and when you reach the last step the students in front of you look at you and respectfully make way between you and the two Malleus. Like soldiers taking positions on both sides of the road.

The two Malleus look confused to see what the students were doing and when the two tsums' eyes meet your tsum jumps out of your arms and hops towards Malleus-tsum very quickly. Some of the students (Sebek included) took one step forward to stop your tsum from "attacking" Malleus' tsum, but stop immediately at Lilia's signal.

Malleus-tsum did not move, excitedly waiting for your tsum to reach it. Your tsum did indeed attack Malleus' tsum, but with love and affection. Your tsum gave it a lot of affection and Malleus' tsum simply accepted it with smiling eyes, only occasionally reciprocating the affection. Malleus also looked at your tsum with a special affection in his eyes.

You approached the tsums to get a better look at Malleus’s. It approached you with that dignity that Malleus himself also has, looked at you for a few seconds and bowed. All the other students at Diasmonia suddenly did the same. Even Sebek, although he did so a little reluctantly.

You bowed back and asked if you could pet it. The other students looked at you again with extreme attention and some held their breath. Malleus-tsum pondered, creating suspense in the lounge, but then it made that happy tsum sound and jumped into your arms, super happy. It accepts any and all affection coming from you and it doesn't matter how strong your hug is, just like Malleus his tsum is also extremely strong and resistant.

Meanwhile, your tsum also jumps into Malleus' arms without warning. Hence the students' gasps echoing through the lounge.

“So fearless, jumping towards me like that.” Malleus smiled smugly. “You really don't fear that I might crush you?”

The other students were wary, but your tsum didn't seem to care what he was saying and jumped onto the top of his head, nestling between his two horns. Once again the students gasped in fear. Only Lilia and Silver were calm. Lilia was laughing.

“My liege, please forgive this insulting-” Sebek said, but was quickly interrupted by Malleus's good-natured laughter.

“How cheeky. I wonder who gave you permission to go up there.” He raises his arm to bring his hand closer to your Tsum in his head, touching its little nose affectionately before patting its head.

While you were hugging Malleus-tsum, one of its horns stung your cheek. It immediately stopped and looked at you worriedly when it heard you say ‘ouch’. When it realized it had hurt you, its little eyes watered. You said it was okay, that it hadn't really hurt you, it was just a little sting, you were fine, you hadn't even gotten a mark. But even so, you had to keep comforting it.

After that, Malleus-tsum wanted to dance with you and Malleus with your tsum. You did so. And the next one, the two tsums wanted to dance together. Following this same logic, Malleus invited you to dance.

At the end of the party, when your tsum gets tired, Malleus-tsum will accompany it to you and Malleus who are sitting together. But your tsum will lie on Malleus' lap, and he will pet it lovingly. Likewise, Malleus-tsum will lie down on your lap, even if it is not tired. It is extremely happy for you to pet it.

Malleus laughs happily when your tsum turns over onto its back so he can give it belly rubs.

Malleus-tsum looks at you and Malleus and thinks you're not close enough. It jumps from your lap to your side and gives you a little nudge on the leg with one of its little horns. You jump and lean against Malleus. You apologize, but Malleus still puts an arm around you. And now satisfied, his tsum returns to your lap, which is so close to Malleus' lap that the two tsums can nestle together too.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum, but it got tired of always walking in your arms and now it was jumping around by your side.

You were crossing the bridge that led to the Mystery Shop grounds when your tsum, who was jumping on the edge of the bridge, slipped and fell into the water below you. The current took your tsum to the lake in front of the Hall of Mirrors building, you followed it running. Your tsum managed to grab onto a ledge in the rocks very close to the waterfall.

You didn't know what to do. You couldn't get down there and there was nothing to help you.

But at that moment something jumped into the water near your Tsum, grabbed onto it and grew so big that it was blocking the passage to the waterfall. It was Silver's tsum!

And speaking of him, Silver appears right after and uses his magic to make your tsum levitate and fly back into your arms. But what about his tsum? The water coming from the lake was accumulating and creating more pressure on the tsum.

But the two Silvers seemed to understand each other well and the Tsum quickly returned to its normal size and let itself fall down the waterfall, but Silver managed to use his magic to catch it in the middle of the fall and bring it back to land safe and sound.

Your tsum jumped out of your arms to hug Silver-tsum, who hugged it back, or at least the tsum version of a strong and affectionate hug.

If you do the same to Silver to thank him, he will be surprised at first, but will hug you back gently with a smile on his face.

“I'm glad you and your tsum are safe now.” Silver tells you. “My tsum and I fell asleep nearby. We both woke up to the sound of something falling into the water and your fright.”

Neither your tsum nor silver's tsum wanted to let go of each other.

“Were you heading back to your dorm? We will accompany you.”

He used his magic to dry your tsum and you for grabbing it right after it came out of the water. Your tsums seemed to agree on something and then your tsum jumped into Silver's arms while Silver-tsum jumped into yours. Your tsum was nestling in Silver's arms, while his tsum was on guard and alert to your surroundings.

“I think they want me to protect your tsum while my lookalike protects you.” Silver assumes, placing his arms protectively around your tsum.

You go to Ramshackle Dorm together and as soon as you arrive in the lounge, your two tsums go to the sofa and snuggle up very close. And now in a safe place and next to your tsum, Silver-tsum falls asleep very soundly. Both you and your tsum find it funny how soft he looks when he sleeps so deeply.

“There goes another attempt to stay awake for as long as possible.” Silver says smiling, also finding it funny. “But I can't blame it. I also feel very relaxed around you.”

You stay with your tsums in the lounge. There's a good chance Silver will fall asleep next to you. Or on your lap if you let him.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[suiana]

bruh i was talking to my friends about our types in guys and i said "i like boyfailures, absolute losers" and rambled about how they were just so cute and I'd be going 'yeah that's cool babe, tell me more about your pokemon and dinosaurs☺️' but then later on in the dsy i realised bro what if i AM the loser and someone thought of me like that 😵 therefore i give you yandere! golden boy x loser! reader

basically you're a loser who doesn't think they're a loser. you're the type of loser who talks a lot of shit online about how 𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖒𝖆 and hot you are when in reality you can't order a meal without hyping yourself up for 5 minutes beforehand.

you'd be pretending you're hot and mysterious but the second someone indicates the SMALLEST hint of anything you're interested in, you go on full on rambles and rants. then you snap back to reality and realize that hey! you don't even know this stranger! and just... walk away.

you're the type of person to go to the doctor with your mommy because you're scared to talk to doctors yourself and you'll look at her when the doctor asks any question, expecing her to answer for you. 'so what's your name? looks at mother' ahhh reaction.

yeah. basically, a loser. with hyperfixations on anime/game characters that you consume millions of content of. you probably sleep with plushies too and read fanfiction before sleeping. or you're doomscrolling reddit/tiktok/some form of social media and sleeping at 3 in the morning.

enter, him.

the golden boy. the perfect boy with perfect grades and a perfect body and- basically everything. he does like 3 sports, speaks 5 languages, everyone loves him, he graduated from an ivy league or an ivy league equivalent, and he's going to inherit his father's company! rich, tall, handsome. he has everything set out for him. cool beans.

anyway!

you don't know how, and you don't know why, but this man is now in love with you. you... probably met him while working your minimum wage job at some fast food restaurant.

"hi, i think you're really cute. would you like to go out on a date with me?"

"h-huh? erm..."

yeah, you don't know how to react so you just malfunctioned briefly before taking another customer's order. but he wouldn't let up. not at all, because he'd find your socials and have HOURS of conversation with you, on total accident, of course! no dirty work involved. totally. just pure coincidence, just like god or whatever is above intended!

"heh, must be my aura that allowed me to get that limited edition skin... what do you think, best friend?"

"yeah, this is the one guys. I'm marrying them."

"what did you say, best friend?"

"oh, nothing at all ☺️ go on with your rant, sweetie."

by some stroke of luck, definitely not him pulling some strings, you get a job offer that somehow is related to- wow, what do you know! his company! so you leave your boring 9-5 job and sign the contract. what a nice friend he is!

"here, just sign down on the line and you'll be able to start working right away."

"wow this contract is really long, best friend."

"haha... right, I'm definitely just a best friend..."

a contract that definitely does NOT bind you to him. yeah, no, definitely not. nuh uh. what? you're trying to read the fine print? there's no need for that! it's all just boring stuff...

yeah, definitely no conditions that will allow him to legally keep you trapped with him... and should you ever try to leave. well, it's just not possible.

but hey! at least now you get endless cash and you even have this cool best friend who really seems to spoil you!

oh, and now he's asking to be your boyfriend.

"sorry, you're not my type... i like the losers. boyfailures, even."

"sweetie..."

..

...

yeah, so now you're dating. it's all cool. yeah, you... totally don't mind this.

"best friend can we get some chicken nuggets? i really want some chicken nuggets and fries, best friend."

"it's boyfriend, sweetie. but of course! anything you want ☺️ we can get those chicken nuggets and more if you want."

okay well, at least it's not that bad... he's rich and handsome, he spoils you and loves you! like those guys in fanfiction, right? maybe a little too much though.

"sweetie, I'm throwing away all your merchandise of this man thing, okay? I'm replacing it with merchandise of me."

"don't tell me you're already throwing it away..."

"☺️"

"we're OVER."

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[luulapants]

Adding into the discussion of the incarcerated young people fighting fires in California:

I can think of no place worse than prison for emotionally stunting or regressing a person or for dismantling their ability to make good decisions.

You take an adult or child who maybe has exhibited some antisocial behaviors, right? So you remove them from whatever community and support network they have, put enormous financial and logistical barriers between them and any communication with that community. Incarcerate them hours from home in a place not accessible by train or plane with narrow visiting hours that conflict with people's work schedules, and maybe you're fighting to prevent in person visits at all, maybe you got a kickback from a company selling expensive video call visits so people can't even hug their kids when they drive 6 hours on a Wednesday to see them. Get a kickback from a phone service provider that's going to charge extortionate prices for every minute a person spends talking to their loved ones, and if the state passes a law saying you can't do that anymore, pivot and go after the mail. Subvert USPS. Get a kickback from a company that'll give prisoners shitty scans of letters or refuse to deliver it because it was flagged for drug contamination by a machine with a 70% false positive rate, force them instead to send texts at extortionate rates through their proprietary app.

Put them in an environment with a bunch of other people with social issues and force them to compete for resources. Give them no mental healthcare. If they are victimized by other prisoners, punish the victims with solitary confinement. Transfer people around so they can't form meaningful long-term friendships. Tell them that once they get out, it will be illegal for them to talk to any of the people they meet here.

Hire guards who have no qualifications other than a willingness to be a modern day slave overseer or the ignorance to not realize that's what it is, give them complete control over every aspect of other people's lives and tell them those people want to kill them and that any object can be covered in drugs so dangerous that touching them can kill. Allow the guards to traffic drugs into the prison with impunity. Have the guards discourage racial mixing because racial conflict in the prison means the prisoners won't join up against the staff.

You do all of this and you ask if a 20-year-old, who's been in the system since 14, is emotionally mature or psychologically healthy enough to choose to risk their life in exchange for slightly better living arrangements.

You take someone who has probably made some bad decisions, right? And you put them in a place where every detail of every day is decided for them: what they eat, when they eat, when they sleep, where they sleep, what clothes they wear, who they talk to, where they work. Or maybe you give them big decisions that have no right answer. Maybe at the start of the day, you open the cells and they have 10 minutes to decide if they want to be stuck in their cell all day - no shower, no recreation, no library - or go outside and be stuck in genpop all day - no napping, no alone time, no escape if someone is hassling you. You let them decide if they're going to eat breakfast at 3am (because there's too many meal shifts) or sleep in and spend their precious commissary funds on toaster strudel (they have no toaster) or sleep in and not eat even though you're barely giving them 1000 calories a day. You let them start to make decisions about how to spend their day, then you put them on lockdown, take all those decisions away.

You do all this and then you ask if anyone who's spent time in this environment has the decision-making skills to choose to risk their life in exchange for slightly better living arrangements.

All of the incarcerated firefighters in California are 18 or older, and all of them volunteered, but there is no world in which they were adequately prepared to make that decision.

[cumberbatchedandproud]

@naamahdarling "This is why I have trust issues." "This is a bad way to do this." "Children don't benefit from being lied to." "This kid is in for a rough time." IT'S A POEM ABOUT PARENTS NOT WANTING TO SAY THEIR VERY SMALL CHILDREN ARE GOING TO DIE. AS A PARENT YOU ARE ALREADY SEEING THEM GROW UP. YOU ARE HELPLESS TO PREVENT IT. DYING COMES TO US ALL. EVERY WOMB IS A GRAVE. DEATH LIVES WITHIN YOU. YOU BIRTHED IT. HOW LONG CAN YOU GET AWAY WITH LYING. HOW LONG DO YOU HAVE. HOW LONG WILL SHE HAVE. WHEN DO YOU MAKE HER AWARE OF THE END, WHICH IS ITSELF AN ENDING. DO YOU WAIT JUST A LITTLE LONGER. THESE ARE QUESTIONS YOU ARE MEANT TO SIT WITH AND EXPLORE. YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO ENGAGE WITH POETRY SOLELY ON A FLAT REAL-WORLD LEVEL, YOU ARE MEANT TO FUCKING SEEK AND FUCKING THINK IN MULTIPLE DIRECTIONS. WHY WOULD SHE SAY THAT. WHAT FEELINGS MIGHT SHE BE HAVING. DO YOU THINK THE NARRATOR HAS LOST SOMEONE CLOSE TO THEM BEFORE. DO PARENTS SOMETIMES TELL LIES THEY MAYBE SHOULD NOT, AND IF SO, WHAT ARE SOME REASONS. DID YOUR PARENTS LIE TO YOU (YOU DO NOT HAVE TO WRITE THIS ANSWER). DO YOU THINK THIS PARENT IS LYING OR ARE THEY DESCRIBING THEIR FEELING THAT THE CHILD WILL NEVER DIE BECAUSE THEY WILL NOT HAVE TO SEE IT OR BECAUSE EVEN IF THEY DO THE CHILD WILL LIVE FOREVER INSIDE THEM. DO OUR LOVED ONES LIVE ON IN US. CAN YOU RESTATE IN YOUR OWN WORDS WHAT THIS PARENT IS FEELING. WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN FIRST: THE PARENT BEING TRUTHFUL OR THE CHILD CATCHING THE LIE. YOUR ENGLISH TEACHER WAS MAKING YOU ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS FOR A GOOD REASON. WHAT REASON MIGHT THAT BE. WHAT QUESTIONS MIGHT THEY ASK NOW. HAVE YOU READ ANY OTHER POEMS THAT YOU HAVE DISAGREED WITH. WRITE A POEM ABOUT LYING TO PROTECT SOMEONE FROM THE TRUTH. WRITE ANOTHER POEM ABOUT A CHILD DISCOVERING THE LIE. WRITE A POEM ABOUT A TIME YOU LIED TO YOURSELF. WRITE A POEM. DO NOT HOLD IT UP TO THE LIGHT OF MORALITY SO YOU CANNOT READ. PUT THE LIGHT BEHIND YOU AND READ ALOUD.

by Alice White

[strayingawayy]

"i blinked and suddenly i had a valentine"

...the one where you're not quite sure how and why hyunjin loves you, but he does, and that's all you really need

it's the way he just loves you like it's normal. you don't know how to describe the feeling but it makes your eyes well up with tears everytime.

with your limited experience of love, you've never once had someone love you back as strongly as you loved them. that was until you met hyunjin.

the way he kisses your forehead before he puts down your cup of coffee on the table, the way he smiles at you every morning as he grabs you and pulls you over him, the way he silently adjusts your rings and earrings whenever you're rambling on about something that happened at work, the way he sends you random messages throughout the day about how grateful he is to have you in his life, the way he always kisses your face to wake you up in time for work and ensures you still have fifteen minutes to cuddle, the way he silently rests his head on your shoulder as he stands behind you, hands caressing your hips and soft kisses being planted on your neck.

you're not used to it. all your life, you've been the one giving and giving and giving until your glass was empty and the moment you asked for any sense of reassurance or comfort, you were told to be too much.

but with hyunjin, for the first time, it's like you're finally able to get back the love you always wanted. and this time it's not even a small portion, hwang hyunjin loves you like the world was to end tonight and he'd have no regrets when it comes to you.

so it takes him by surprise when he slips his hands into yours one sunday afternoon, the grey clouds outside admirers of your love and leans down to press a kiss against your lips only to see fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

he immediately lets go of your hand to grab the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wipe your tears away, afraid he had done something wrong.

but he's even more confused when you bury your face in his chest and cling to him tightly as you cry your heart out. hyunjin doesn't know what he's done to make you so upset and he's almost afraid to hug you back but seeing the way you hold onto him, he wraps his own arms around you before cautiously kissing the top of your head.

"you-you don't have to-i've never- i love you hyune." you cry out.

and hyunjin can only smile softly as he gathers you in his arms and takes you to the couch to get you comfortable on his lap.

he wishes he could tell you. but he can't. words fail him when he needs them most. but he knows you understand, he knows you can feel how his heart bursts from love for you.

so he'll write about it someday, maybe paint too.

because he just hopes you know that even if the earth burns to ashes, hwang hyunjin will never stop loving you.

[vmlnrzmp4]

nsfw

cw: reader's first time going full way, 3 different positions, porn w plot, no use of condom(don't be silly, wrap the willy.) a/n: i usually don't give cw, trying to keep the smut a surprise. i have proof read it, but i think there might be some errors. feel free to correct me.

the air around was charged as the shuffling, heavy pants and moans filled the room. it was another one of kaiser's and yours pathetic dry humping session.

his head leaning on the head-rest while his hands gripped your hips, urging your movements to go faster and faster and faster—till the both of you come undone.

you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, the room filling with exhausted panting.

"so good angel," he kissed your temple, "so good."

but a word taunted you in your head. you faced him, meeting your eyes with his, "mihya...am i boring?"

"what are you saying angel?" he raised his eyebrow, clearly confused where that came from, "if this is about sex then no, you're not boring."

it had happened a day ago. you had gone out with your friends. sitting in a public cafe, talking about each other's sex life without a care, shamelessly—no matter how many people stared in surprise and disgust.

shortly after you and your friends were kicked out, the first thing they did was to drag you into a pharmacy. they told you to not to worry about the prescription. you wordlessly agree, taking the small rectangular box of birth control pills—so that you can stop with the boring sex life as your friends described it.

was it boring? sure you and your boyfriend never went any further that that and orals. but so lost in enjoying them, you never thought it would be considered boring and you got self conscious. what if he thinks like them? you worried.

"hey," kaiser cradled your face, his voice so gentle, "where did that come from?"

"tell me," you asked firmly, "do you ever wish to go further than this?"

"all the fucking time," he answered without hesitation, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the lovely guesture contrast to his lewd words.

the silence that followed didn't take much time as you started unbuttoning his shirt. just when you were down to two, he gripped your wrist, "are you sure?"

"yes." your response was quick.

he smirked, giving you a go-ahead and you went back to undoing the buttons, not bothering to even take off the shirt off his shoulders as you ran your fingers on his chest to his abs.

you reached his belt, undoing it—him helping you take it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor unconcernedly. he then pulled over your shirt off, unclipping your bra, also throwing away your shorts alongwith your panties.

he asked you if you were sure again. you nodded but he needed words.

"i want this."

"that's my girl," he presses his face in the crook of your neck, "ride me."

the next moment you found him in you. you didn't move however. he didn't let you. telling you that he had to take care of your tits first, running his hands around them.

"i wanna move," you whined, your hands that rested on his shoulders dug into his skin. it didn't pain him. even if he did, he considered it pleasure.

"patience angel, wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?"

you hummed a yes, "i wanna...but i want to move."

"beg."

"please," you pleaded, "i wanna move, mihya...i wanna feel you more...so badly, please."

he smirked, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a shit eating grin as he coos at you, nodding at you to proceed.

it took you a bit by surprise when he moaned. yes, kaiser moaned. sure, the little pathetic sessions before had him grunting. but nothing compared to how he moaned now as you kept bouncing on his cock.

but other than that, the sight in front of him was to behold. you were getting there, he could tell by the way your bounces fastened and became irregular, following a certain pattern. his hands gripped your hips so tightly as he helps you bounce, the bed creaking and creaking.

the creaking finally stopped as the two of you reached peak and you slowed down, riding out your high.

"angel," he called out softly, "think you can go one more time?"

"yes, god, yes yes!" so lost in the moment, you threw the shame out of the window, letting arousal take over you.

he positioned you beneath him, as he littered kisses down your neck, collarbone—down to your tits, his tongue circling around your nipples without breaking eye contact.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he aligned his cock in you. your leg over his shoulder, the other one spread out by his grip as he pounds into you with no mercy, "god," he breaths out, "look at you angel, so beautiful." oh how can his words be so lovely when he's fucking the sweet moans out of you.

"w-wait," you halt him.

"angel?"

"...kiss me, please?" and oh how could he say no? he leaned down, capturing your lips with his into a sweet kiss with simultaneously fucking you. he leans lower, biting into your shoulder, making you hiss.

"mihya...so—" you got interrupted when he hit the spot just right, letting a moan surpass your lips, "so c-close."

he chuckles at your pityful words, stopping and before you could even ask why he did so—he flips you around with a swift motion as his grip on your hips tighten, manhandling you to raise your ass upwards, your face squished in the pillow.

he pounds into you mercilessly from back. the room filling in with his moans, your muffled whimpers, the slapping sounds of the skin and creaking of bed. it was so so lewd.

"fuck angel...im not gonna last any longer. you close?"

you barely managed to choke out a muffled yes. at that, his movements grew erratic, though he didn't slow down.

he knew you came when he hears a loud cry of his name muffled. he thrusts into you a few more times as he cums inside you. pulling out, a groan escapes his lips as he sees his release dripping from your pussy.

he lays besides you, gently urging you to face him as he kisses you. he kisses and kisses. slow, fast, biting, licking. all of it, still having a gentle touch to it.

"you did so good angel," he pecks your forehead, "so good for me." he litters more kisses on your face, pulling you into his embrace, telling you how good you did, whispering sweet nothings.

"let's clean up yeah?" he exhales, "then i'll run to the store real quick."

"no need," you say.

"no need?" he questions, "what d'ya mean?"

"i um...brought plan B."

he lets out an airy laugh, "you were prepared, huh?"

"well..." you go on telling him about the conversation you had the day before. how your friends described their sex life. and when it came to you, they said what you and kaiser do was boring. he laughs at that, pulling you closer, calling you a dummy. he was thankful for it nonetheless.

"c'mon let's shower," he says, tho there was a tease in his tone, "another round?"

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

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

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

“Satoru, calm down.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was already apart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because of shit like this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you still need him?

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

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

What could he possibly say? 

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

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

Maybe you actually do hate me now.

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

“Do you still love me?”

“…of course I do. I’d never stop.”

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

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“No, really. I’m—”

“Let’s go to sleep now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru... I know you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N:

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

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

—-

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

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

“…nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since when do you know anyone who drives a Maybach?

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

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

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

There’s just no way. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re teetering the line of tipsy and drunk. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leaving only one other person. 

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

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

He needs to clear his mind. 

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

He might as well do something productive now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

…what’s this?

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

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

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

But that’s pretty fucking hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Yeah.”

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

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

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

“Not any other man.” You reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyebrows raise. “What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

And to be honest, so are you. 

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

What does that mean for you?

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

“F-for what…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, fuck.

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

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

“I—”

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

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

“Sato—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Soon…you’re mirroring his fury. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By trying to get in bed with her?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wonder how things will look going forward. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And right now, that’s all that matters. 

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

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

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

taglist is now closed

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[creamecafe]

Can you write the headcannons where the squid games s2 men react to you flinching during a fight please

How Season 2 Squid Game Men Would React To You Flinching During an Argument

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Pairing: Season 2 Squid Game Men x GN!Reader

Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, angst

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting! To anyone who's going through something like this, please know that you're not alone.

National Domestic Violence Hotline is 800-799-7233. They are open 24/7. Youcan also text too. Please talk to someone and get the help you deserve or possibly help someone. No one, doesn't matter big or small, man or woman deserves to be mistreated or feel like they're in danger in a relationship

National Domestic Violence

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Seong Gi-Hun (Player 456)

Stops arguing with you immediately and realizes what you might think of what he was going to do to you

He knew he changed a lot, but he never thought he would change in ways that would make you scared of him

Reassures you and tells you that he would never even think of hitting you even when he's so upset.

Young-il (Player 001)

Is used to people being intimidated by him, but by you is a different story

Never would want you ever to be afraid of him

Talks to you in a now calmer tone and apologies to you

He holds you close and kisses you, saying that he'll never put his hands on you, or even the thought of doing so would go on his mind

If he only knew of who was responsible for that in the past, he'll kill them

Thanos (Player 230) (I love this GIF of him, ok?)

Is confused at first why you flinch

Then it clicks in his head of why you did so

Were you really thinking that he would hurt you? He thought to himself

Has been hit by his mom before so he understands it all so well

Drops his smart ass, wanting to be right all the time persona and tries to make things with you

Kang Dae-Ho (Player 388)

His heart felt like it broke when he sees you flinching

He thinks you must see him as a monster, just like his dad

Steps back away from you and goes to lock himself away in his room

It seems emotionally immature to do so, but he doesn't want to take a chance to hurt you even if it's a accident

When he calms down, he hugs and cries saying he'll never raise his voice again and he's sorry for ever making you feel afraid of him

Lee Myung-Gi (Player 333)

He knows he has made big mistakes before and tries to fix them

But the action he did towards you, will never leave his mind

He never thought he could be seen as an abuser in a relationship or make you afraid of him

Making you angry or a little sad, he could live with that. But afraid?

It takes all he can to apologize to you without crying, because he doesn't want to lose you or even make you feel like he would put his hands on you

Nam Gyu

Dissociates when he realizes

Takes a few steps back to calm you down

Looks down at his and shakes of the many times you probably had in your mind if he really was going to hurt you

He shakily apologizes to you and his voice trembles that he'll never hurt you and if he does, he doesn't deserve you

Hwang Jun-ho

He's been a police officer long enough to know why you would flinch

He has had calls of domestic abuse/violence especially for women

He drops the argument like nothing and apologizes.

Before hugging you, he would ask you permission

Now he is thinking of whoever made you afraid or flinch, that he'll make them pay

Salesman/Recruiter

His expression is like in the GIF above, shocked for a moment and realizes

He reassures and says to just forget about the argument

Tells you that he would never even think of hitting you. And if he ever does or makes you afraid in any way to leave him right away

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Taglist:

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[gudfornuthin]

‘What marks?’

Dae ho x fem!reader

Summary: you and Dae ho get intimate during lights out, and wake up to unwanted questions in the morning.

A/N: I’m grafting hard on these requests! Based on this and this ask. Feedback as always is appreciated :)

!MDNI!

“Oh fuck.”

You moan under your breath, trying not to make too much sound. After another horrifying day trying not to be killed, you were in need of a stress reliever. Luckily for you, the man pleasuring you was up for the job.

Dae ho lies beneath the sheets with his head between your thighs. His hands dig into your skin, as he pushes his tongue further into your cunt. You whine and grab a fistful of his hair, tugging harshly. He spreads your legs impossibly wider, eating you out like it was his last meal.

You reach your climax and hold in the scream you want to let out. You cover your mouth with one of your hands as tears fill your rolled back eyes. Dae ho moves from his position under the sheets and crawls up to come face to face with you.

“You okay?” He whispers, kissing your chest.

You nod, unable to form comprehensive sentences, as you move your hand away. He lifts his head and kisses you deeply, the slight taste of yourself lingering on his tongue. He trails his hot lips down to your neck, sucking and biting several times. He licks over the spots after a few minutes, moving back to admire his work.

You both lie back down, relishing in the silence and peace for however long it may last for.

- - -

The music blares from the speakers, waking everyone up from their slumber. You open your eyes and squint, dreading the day ahead and what it could hold for you. You look over to the bed next to you, seeing Dae ho slowly waking up. He must’ve moved out of your bed during the night, not wanting any awkward questions about your “activities”.

You slowly get up, your body aching. You make your way over to the group of players you’ve grown to trust over the past few days, Dae ho following close behind. He rest his hand on your back for a brief moment, and you can’t help but smile.

You greet everyone briefly as you sit down next to Hyun ju, wrapping your arms around your legs. The conversation between the group doesn’t interest you, as you zone out and stare off at nothing. You were still tired, and not ready for the next game. Dae ho waves in your peripheral, alerting you to look at him. His expression is clearly trying to convey a question. “You alright?” You halfheartedly give a thumbs up.

“Oh dear! What’s happened to your neck?” Geum ja asks you, shock and worry on her face as she points to the marks on your skin.

Your eyes widen as you look at Dae ho, his expression the same as yours. Were the marks that bad? You didn’t even think about trying to hide them.

“Uhh,” you stutter over your words.

“It must be these bed sheets!” Dae ho butts in, trying to save you from embarrassment. “I’ve seen other people itching their necks a lot, something to do with the fabric. That must be it.”

You nod along, laughing it off and hoping the conversation will carry on to something else. Unfortunately it doesn’t, as now everyone in your group is looking at you both with confusion.

Geum ja shakes her head. “No no, those aren’t from itching they’re bruises! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Dae ho and yourself both fumble over excuses, trying to play it down as to it being nothing and that it doesn’t deserve this level of attention. You look over to the younger players in your group, Hyun ju, Jun hee and Yong sik, smirking and trying not to laugh. It didn’t take much for any of them to figure out the cause of the marks on your neck. You roll your eyes, as you stand up.

“If you’ll excuse me I’m going to… sort these marks out in the bathroom.”

“You sure you don’t want Dae ho to go with you?” Yong sik asks, sending him as well as Hyun ju and Jun hee into a fit of giggles.

You glare at Dae ho, as he apologetically shrugs his shoulders, knowing he’s the one to blame for this. Stick to the waist down next time.

- - -

Taglist: @h3llok1ttyx @ivanttier @shewanfsrevenge @sugalump3d @putrescentpoet @leviathans-fish

(Sorry if any tags didn’t work)

[holy-muffins]

[Edit after writing: this got long, scroll on if this isn't an inane internet drama you're into]

Seeing people make that jump over to Xiaohongshu (I think that's how it's spelled) / Red Book / Rednote is very sweet in the early days of it. There are already some people finding that certain content is Not Allowed and getting posts limited/deleted/accounts banned but that's honestly probably every platform at this point. [staff here for instance have a beef with ace hardware fans iykyk]

BUT as for tumblr -- I have seen a deeply non-zero number of tiktoks saying "We should go back to tumblr!" and I do think that some people are going to do that, but not en masse like twitter and reddit users did.

I think the reason is multifaceted -

Tumblr doesn't appear to be easy to learn if you didn't know how to use it before. I say this because Tumblr is difficult enough to learn if you're into text/forum/image style sites like reddit, twitter, and imgr but the general format is still the same 'find primarily written content you want to look at, and look at it between images and limited instances of video' which is ultimately pretty easy for twitter/reddit/imgr refugees. Things like our tagging etiquette, how to block tags, content, and blogs aren't intuitive to learn on either the desktop or the mobile version, and it seems to be hard to figure out if it's okay to reblog things or not [a huge thing I noticed with the various migrations was that people thought "Do not repost this" meant BOTH not, well, reposting the art but also instructions to not reblog it].

There is no tumblr clout and what I mean by that is that one of the worst things that can happen to you on tumblr is to get tumblr famous. Tumblr famous people can only rarely use that fame for clout and are at risk of all manners of nonsense. Only look at how many have been driven to creative uses of the site to protect their privacy and safety after a tumblr callout blog went after them for real or imagined high crimes. You probably just thought of a few tumblr users off the top of your head who turn off anon and publish every ask, or turn off their inboxes, or lurk in a deactivated state, or change their username and longtime profile pic, or just leave/get bullied off entirely.

Sub-point of 2, is that there is no 'creator fund' and there is no 'qualify for paid content' from tumblr itself. They keep literally saying if we don't turn a profit they're turning our site off. Do you think that's a site that is going to pay any of its users to just be Out There Makin' Content(TM) for a few pennies a view?

This probably could go in as a sub-point of 1, but the growth limiting factor on tumblr is "you must decide what you would like to see and seek it out," which is very much not how tiktok operates for people. Are there awesome things on there that are very much something I found I was interested in once I saw them? Yes! Absolutely! It never would have occurred to me to look for that kind of content on tumblr organically, so I'd never find a tag to follow, I'd never find blogs to follow, etc. If you are used to discovering constantly new things, tumblr as-used is not amazing at that and literally never has been.

So you have a userbase on tiktok who either is integrating their business plan [even if the business plan is yapping] based on getting paid by the platform OR is on the platform to be entertained and build a community without a toooooonnnnnnn of additional work on their end beyond interacting with the timeline.

Tumblr could bring back tipping, it could try out pay-to-view posts again, it could even call up whoever was running tumblr live and see if they'll come back after the horrible way we all talked about tumblr live - but even with these three things, it isn't going to bring in the money that people who make their living by Being On TikTok are counting on.

Tumblr could make the feed more TikTok-like in just endless algorithmic slop, but that would drive away the userbase they have already -- AND the tiktokers by and large don't know and won't learn how to even USE tumblr, so they wouldn't come even if the feed WAS more TikTok-like. So there's no need for the change, since it wouldn't bring users and would in fact drive many away.

TLDR: Tumblr is like Mars. The gravity works better than the moon, but it's hella hard to get to and probably not worth colonizing when it's easier to get to the moon.

I find it so funny, in light of TikTok’s imminent American demise, that even now they aren’t considering moving to tumblr. The last two social media refugee crises (Twitter -> X and whatever happened with Reddit) prompted a wave of wide-eyed new baffled tumblr users to flood this app and yet last I heard all of the tiktokers are flooding en-masse a Chinese social media app. That is entirely in Mandarin. Instead of moving to tumblr.

[angelltheninth]

Love and Deepspace Men Pining For You

Pining: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, angst with a happy ending, love confession, jealousy, kissing, friends to lovers, pining

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Someone needs to take my phone away before I go crazy over these guys. Unless it already happened and I didn't notice.

Zayne is always surrounded by all kinds of attention from women but the only woman he wants the attention of is you. Because he's popular he gets that he might have to be more clear about his intentions with you. It's not just him teasing or being playful when he asks you to those lunch dates, it's not just him wanting to fluster you when he touches your cheek with his fingertips. That is him being completely serious about wanting to date you, wanting to be your boyfriend. You being his girlfriend would make him the happiest man in the world. And if he was your boyfriend he would make sure you never want for anything, he would do anything in his power to make you happy and keep you safe. Kisses would be includes, but they would be more of a bonus to the relationship, a welcome one.

Rafayel feels his whole body flushing when your hands touch. What started as a simple admiration for you has developed into so much more, it's not just about him wanting to be the main subject of his artwork, but the only woman he wants to be his lover. The courtship starts with him painting sceneries that he knows you like and then gifting them to you, they're on small canvases so you can take quite a few of them. Every time he notices you talking to some other guy he gets this adorable pout on his face that he hides by quickly turning on his heel and storming off. Often asks you for whet he should draw next, saying how much he values you and your opinion. He's confesses by saying he's always liked painting beautiful things and to him there's no one more beautiful than you.

Xavier thinks over every little thing you do together, carefully combing through your interactions to try and figure put if you like him too. It could be that he's just imagining things and his affections are one-sided. He would hate that of course but his primary goal is to make sure you're safe and happy. As he finds himself thinking more and more of you when he's away he gets scared. Scared that something bad might happen and you won't ever get to find out how he feels about you. Before he's set to leave again he envelopes you in a tight hug, telling you that he will come back for sure, because there's a woman he loves and he will get back to her one way or another. He doesn't kiss you as he leaves, that should be saved for when he comes back, and it is.

Sylus doesn't hold back once you catch his eyes, he saw you and it doesn't matter who saw you before him. He wants you for himself now, he wants to win you over and wants you to only look at him, to only think of him. Very flirty from the beginning and therefore a little hard to read at how genuine he's being with his advances. After a few nights spent together he can't stop thinking about you. Waking up to you is the best part of his day, as is falling asleep next to you. He wants to hold on to those feelings forever, wants to hold onto you forever. Every kiss from you makes his mind go wild in ways he never experianced before. He never expected to fall for you, or that you would return his feelings past the desires you felt for each other, but he did fall, deep and fast and hard, and he's taking you with him.

Caleb has been pining after you for years, before you went your separate ways. You were the only one who kept him going though all these years and now he finally has you back. He doesn't intent to let you go again, or to let any other man have you. The kisses he gives, the touches he makes, the words he speaks leave no room for doubt of his feelings but he also doesn't want to force these feelings onto you. Every day he tells you how much he loves you, hoping that one day he'll hear it back. When he does he honestly thinks he's still dreaming, that you aren't even there, that you were never real, that you can't love the man he is now. But you can, and you do, and just like him you never want to let him go again.

[littlcdarlin]

Into Temptation

summary: old!Joel obsessively watches sweet reader from across the tipsy bison each night, until one day he walks her home. read on AO3 warnings: girthy age gap (reader is 20, Joel’s age isn’t mentioned but I imagined late 50s), daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy (Joel wants to knock her up so bad), naive/sweet reader, Joel calls reader “kiddo”, Joel is a bit of a pervert but so are you for reading this

note: this is written in head-canon format but sort of reads like a cohesive story. It allowed me to churn this out much more quickly than writing it my usual way!

He watches you from his spot at the bar, across the tipsy bison, how you laugh with your friends, how your cheeks gain colour with every drink, how you politely refuse any man who makes advances

He knows you’re barely in your twenties, all fresh-faced and so sweet looking, the world can’t possibly have gotten to you yet — that’s what intrigues him, how untainted by cruelty you seem

Tommy catches him staring and scolds him for it — she’s off limits, Joel, there’s a million men better suited for a girl like her

Yes, a million men who you refuse, night after night, offering them your sweet apologetic smiles, and returning to playing cards with your friends. He can’t help but wonder if you’ve got a man already, if that’s why you refuse everyone

One night you make your way over to the bar, stumbling in your cowboy boots, your cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol, your movements a little fuzzy, a vague smile on your face that he recognises from his own youth — the kind of smile only brought out by carefree evenings in bars, cigarettes, and flirting without a goal

You ask the barkeeper for another drink, and accept his wink with a sweet smile when he puts the glass down in front of you. It bothers Joel, this new development. You’re supposed to refuse everyone here

That guy cheats on his wife, he tells you, and your big Bambi eyes land on him, surprised. You two haven’t spoken before. Thought you oughta know.

You cock your head curiously, and lift your glass to your mouth. It’s sweating from the ice, pearly drops of water drooling over your fingernails. You know everyone’s business, Mr. Miller?

You know his name — Joel’s spine tingles. For a sweet girl, you sure manage to hold his gaze, most people would have looked away by now. He’s not known for his pleasant small talk

He wants to ask you to come home with him, but he can feel the eyes of your friends on the two of you, so he restrains himself. Your small hand comes to rest on top of his shoulder, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through him

I wasn’t flirting with him, Mr. Miller, just being polite. You’d know if I was, you say, and then you’re gone, off to your friends again, your dress swaying around your thighs and for a second he has to fight the impulse to drag you back over to him and sit you down on his lap

But he can’t do that, won’t do that, not when you’re so young and half of Jackson would want to see him hang

From then on, you talk to him every time you get a drink — and you start getting them for your friends, too. Any more town secrets to spill, Mr. Miller? How’s that whiskey for the eighteenth night in a row, Mr. Miller? Mr. Miller, I heard Tommy’ll be a Daddy soon — looking forward to being an uncle?

So what if he indulges you? He’s making conversation, people can hardly judge him for it — so long as they don’t know about what he does when he gets home from the bar each evening, imagining it’s your little hand instead of his own

You keep denying all of your admirers, which are more than Joel would like to admit, ever friendly about it. They leave with bruised egos, but glad you were polite about it — all but one. A tall kid, a little older than you but barely 25, and he keeps pestering you night after night. Joel watches the way your brows furrow, the corners of your mouth turning downward rather than up into that sweet smile he adores

The fifth night, the boy touches your shoulder, and your friend pushes his arm away, but he persists. Before Joel can stop himself, he’s on his feet. There a problem here?

Your eyes are round and relieved when they find Joel, and even subconsciously you move towards him. It’s fine, we’re just making conversation, the kid says, so Joel looks at you. You shake your head so slightly he almost doesn’t see it, but it’s all it takes

How ‘bout you ‘n I make some conversation outside? The boy is gone before Joel can put his fist to his jaw, which he’s been itching to do for days now, but after he gives you a slight nod, and you thank him, he leaves your table again to make sure the boy won’t be back as soon as he’s gone

Before he can step outside, he feels your little hand on his arm, and he turns around to look at you. Could you walk me home, Mr. Miller?

He can’t possibly refuse you, doesn’t want to, so he gets your jacket from the coat rack by the door — you don’t question how he knows it’s yours — and leads you outside with a heavy palm on your shoulder

You don’t speak much, but you walk closer to him than you have to, and a sick satisfaction pools inside his belly. You feel safe with him, you trust him to get you home safe, you want to be near him

Right before you reach your house, you look up at him, the apples of your cheeks violently flushed by the cold, snow dotting your hair. Stay a while?

He can’t, he really shouldn’t, not when you’re clearly desperate for him to do so, not when your eyes are all hopeful and innocent and unknowing of what you’re asking of him. Please, I get so lonely at night.

Now, he can’t have that. Sweet girl like you, anyone would be happy to keep you company, and yet Joel’s the one you’re asking. So he agrees, and you open the door into a warm corridor that smells of cinnamon and apples

You take off your boots, revealing your bare legs, only covered by a pair of white stockings to keep you warm, and one of your cotton dresses that can’t possibly keep you warm in this weather. He wants to wrap you up in a blanket and rip it all off at the same time

He stays to ease your mind after he incident at the bar, and after a while you dose off to sleep on the couch, your head drooping and snapping upwards again every few seconds. And he knows you need your sleep, you’re still only twenty after all, so he picks you up to carry you upstairs, but you stir in his arms

Come on, let’s get you to bed, kiddo, he mutters, and in your sleep-drunken state, you rest your head against the crook of his neck, your soft mouth pressing a wet kiss there, and he’s done for, beyond help

When he puts you down on your bed, your eyes open, and he wants so badly to kiss you, to claim you. Sleep with me, you mumble, and God help him, he gets into bed with you, still wearing his jeans

You cuddle up to him, stealing his warmth, his scent, dizzying him with yours. He doesn’t get a wink of sleep, not with the sweet sounds you make while you dream and the way your body molds so perfectly against him

In the morning you smile up at him like you can’t quite believe he’s still there, and then you kiss him, and he knows there’s no turning back from any of it now, not when he’s got you rested and pliant and warm in a bed, not when your legs are wrapped around his thigh so sweetly

So he does what he’s been wanting to do, climbs on top of you, his body weight pressing you into the mattress and pulling the sweetest sounds from your pretty throat — your hands grasp at his shoulders, his back, his arms, when he kisses and licks and bites whatever part of you he can reach

You’re so responsive, like this is the first time someone’s touched you like this, and the thought makes him dizzy. You’re whining for him and he hasn’t even gotten you out of your little dress yet. By the time two of his fingers find your clit, you’re positively trembling under him, and he watches in fascination as you shake and come for him so easily, like you’ve been waiting to do just that, like it’s been building all night. Good girl, my sweet, good girl.

That makes you twitch for him, a broken sound coming out of your mouth that he knows is supposed to be a word. Speak up, kiddo, can’t hear ya.

You do, your hips still moving after your orgasm has faded. D-daddy. His blood starts to boil, and it’s all it takes for him to roughly open his belt buckle, ignore the way his joints pop at the movement, hike up your dress, pull down the cotton panties you’ve soaked, and press the tip of his aching cock against your dripping entrance

When he finally presses himself inside of your tight body, you mewl for him with wide glassy eyes, and it takes all his strength to not just slam into you. He knows you need to adjust to his girth, especially if he’s right and this is the first time someone has fucked you

When he’s fully sheathed inside of you, your breathing comes in little pants, and you throb and clench around him. It makes him want to come inside of you, fuck you until it takes, until that little pussy has what it’s so desperately trying to drain from him

He starts fucking you deeply, as deeply as he can, and you cry for him with every thrust, sweet chants of DaddyDaddyDaddyDaddy. You don’t just want it, you need it, eyelids fluttering and your soft red mouth slightly agape. Your hands tangle into his greying hair, tugging and trying desperately to hold onto something

When you come for him again, he rubs at your little clit until you’re done, but even then, you keep letting him fuck you, his cock moving in and out of you easily, your whole body shaking with overstimulation. Want it inside please, Daddy, you moan, your muscles limp. He grips your hips, and empties his balls deep inside of you, keeps thrusting until he’s sure his spent can’t possibly be deeper inside of you

You smile up at him when he calls you his good, sweet girl, a blissed out and happy look on your face

So he stays, fucks you again and again that day, barely lets you leave your bed, until Tommy knocks on the door and tells him he missed patrol and the whole of Jackson is talking about you and him. But Joel doesn’t care, not when the second the door is closed you kiss him

People stare when the two of you walk through the streets of Jackson, your hand in Joel’s, smooth fingers against weathered, calloused ones. You don’t mind, kiss him in the tipsy bison in front of everyone, ignore even Tommy and your friends when they tell you to take some space

He knows it’s bound to get worse once your belly starts to swell, which is inevitably going to happen with how often he pumps you full of his load, his back aching and yours arching off the bed. He pays it no mind, though, not when you beg him for it so sweetly every night, please Daddy, want it inside.

[tasteracha]

a/n: hey @chvnnie remember when you asked me to write this like a year ago? i did it. inspired by that one skzcode clip of seungmin teasing felix and felix getting pissed off. warnings: seunglix x afab!reader, meanish dom felix, sub seungmin, smut - MINORS DNI.

you’re woken up by jarring voices, the tv that had been providing you background noise for your slumber having gone to sleep shortly after you did. it takes you a moment to identify the sounds, your brain coming online a few moments after your heart, beating rapidly in your chest from being kicked out of unconsciousness so abruptly. 

“you don’t have to be so fucking mean all the time,” you register felix’s voice first, a dangerousness hiding in his dark tone that doesn’t come out often. he’s usually so positive even when he’s in a bad mood, optimism cracking away at any negative emotions in a way you admire. 

“i wasn’t being mean,” seungmin scoffs in return, and you can hear him walking down the hallway towards the living room where you laid with bated breath. “you’re just being sensitive, lix.”

oh, he’s done it now. 

seungmin sees you first, a blinding smile taking over his face as he walks over to you to run a hand through your hair. you relax into his touch, relishing in the comfort while knowing that a fight was about to break out soon - you knew the difference between felix being sensitive and being genuinely angry. 

right now, even without seeing his face, you knew it was the latter. 

felix walks into the room and you swear he looks six feet tall, standing with his arms crossed and a look on his face. it makes you shiver though it isn’t directed at you, and it goes unnoticed by seungmin even though his hand is still buried in your hair - he was too occupied with smirking at felix, pouring gasoline into a fire that was already blazing towards the ceiling. 

you know what they say, play with fire and you’ll get burned. you hope that seungmin was prepared for what is about to occur. 

“you want me to take care of this, lix?” you ask, your role of Professional Seungmin Tamer coming increasingly more natural as the days went on. it is a last ditch effort to calm the flames. 

“no,” felix’s jaw is set in a hard line, and you can see his teeth grinding together. “i’ll take care of him myself.”

“take care of him myself,” seungmin mocks, snickering to himself for a moment before choking around it from the sudden feeling of felix’s hand around his jaw. felix has moved like a ghost, crossing the room in quick strides and covering seungmin’s body with his own in a silent motion. seungmin’s hand falls from your hair, reaching up to wrap around felix’s wrist - not moving it away, but rather bracing himself against the storm.

seungmin is usually taller than felix, but he’s left looking up at him because of how his knees buckle. despite his clear disadvantage, seungmin lets out a growl at felix’s touch.

“awh, you going to bark for me?” felix coos at him, not an ounce of warmth behind his words. “puppy.”

“you wish,” seungmin hisses out, the breath leaving him completely when felix tightens his grip on his jaw and uses the other one to brace the back of his neck, trapping seungmin completely against him. 

“how can you say that when i can tell you want me so bad already?” felix says, looking something wicked as he wedges a thigh between seungmin’s legs. from where you are you can’t see the younger man’s crotch but you’re certain that his jeans are tented with arousal; your own core was starting to pulse with heat just from watching them, despite you not being touched by either of them. 

“i don’t want you,” seungmin scoffs, trying to turn his face out of felix’s grip and failing. he was lying; seungmin always wanted felix, but nine times out of ten it was on his own terms. you can only imagine how fast seungmin’s head was spinning right now at the sudden change in dynamics. 

watching seungmin twitch his hips against felix’s thigh was maddening. this is the first time you’ve seen felix take control of seungmin like this. maybe felix would make seungmin ride his thigh - that was something you’d be delighted to see. 

“then why are you so hard?” felix’s mouth twists into a grin, wicked and sharp, as he presses his leg further forward, putting pressure on seungmin’s cock and making him moan. 

seungmin, for all his false bravado, submitted beautifully and easily when it was for you. it didn’t surprise you that he did it for felix too, but the sight of his muscles losing their tautness all at once was something to behold. he falls into felix’s arms, boneless and grinding his hips in little circles against the older’s thigh, the fight drained out of his body as quickly as it had arrived.  

“i hate you,” seungmin mutters weakly against felix’s chest as he chases a high he must know he won’t be allowed just yet. the fight left his body, not his mouth, evidently. 

“you’re just making this worse for yourself with every word,” felix chuckles, dry and mean, as he turns seungmin around and pushes him roughly forward. seungmin stumbles and throws a glare over his shoulder, but the effect is lost when he continues to let felix manhandle him. 

“baby,” felix calls out to you, his tone shifting to warmth instantly. you perk your head up and you can’t suppress the shiver that wracks through your body as he cocks his head towards the bedroom while leading seungmin there, a clear invitation to join them for whatever felix was planning to do. you’re on your feet before you can blink, anticipation burning through your veins. 

you have to pause and take a deep breath when you reach the door frame before going in; you knew that what was about to happen was like a fantasy pulled from the deepest depths of your mind. when you gather the nerve to peek inside, seungmin is already naked on the bed, his bottom lip hidden between his teeth as felix fastens his wrists to the headboard with the soft ropes that typically adorn his own. 

“open your mouth,” felix digs his fingers into seungmin’s lips, ignoring how the younger thrashes against the bonds keeping him in place. felix leans forward so that he’s kneeling over seungmin and slides his free hand into his dark hair, scratching softly at his scalp before curling his fingers into a fist and pulling.  “this is all the lube you’re getting, so unless you want me to fuck you dry you’d better do as i say.”

the words sound unpracticed as they spill out of felix’s lips, but seungmin’s lips part with a gasp nonetheless. he chokes on the digits as felix explores his mouth, reaching every crevice and swiping around his annoyingly white teeth. his fingers coming out glistening with saliva, wet and dripping as he lines them up with seungmin’s hole. 

felix opens seungmin up brutally, sliding two fingers in and cooking them up with a look of satisfaction on his face when seungmin jumps. it was a caricature of their usual dynamic, with felix typically melted into the sheets as seungmin uses him however he sees fit. felix finds seungmin’s spot with practiced ease, letting out a laugh when seungmin cries out at the intense pleasure. he avoids it after, scissoring his fingers almost clinically, teasing seungmin with the sensation that is so close but that he won’t be granted.

contrary to his claim, felix squirts a generous amount of lube on his cock once he undresses before he pushes in slowly, letting seungmin feel the drag of every inch. the younger’s breaths come out in violent shudders, and as you step closer to look his pupils are almost completely blown over his irises, barely a hint of chocolate brown to be seen. 

felix presses a kiss to seungmin’s forehead when he bottoms out, the gentlest touch he’s given him since he started. it shows how spaced out seungmin is that he leans up into the touch, craving felix’s touch like he would starve without it. seungmin’s eyes are glassy, a spaced out expression taking over his face that you’ve never seen before. he tends not to let his guard down, even during the most intimate moments that you share, and you hope that you get to witness this again. 

felix keeps a steady pace, dragging out slowly before pushing back in with a snap, driving seungmin further up the bed with every movement. 

“love?” felix calls out, and both you and seungmin make a noise. you know that felix was talking to you only when he ignores seungmin completely, continuing to snap his hips, pulling breathy whines from seungmin with every thrust. “will you come here?”

he says it like a question but your body thinks of it as a command as you float over to him, stopping just inches from the bed. felix unfastens seungmin’s wrists from the headboard, keeping them pinned together, and pulls him up. he turns him and wraps his arms around his chest until they are both kneeling upright, flush against one another. his cock remains buried inside of seungmin the whole time and you can’t help but give him a look of impressed approval. he looks pointedly at you and then the space he cleared out in front of seungmin in response, and you flush as you kick off your sweatpants and climb into the bed, laying on your back. 

when did felix learn how to tell you what to do with just a look? you didn’t know where this was coming from, but you loved it. 

felix places seungmin gently onto you with the carefulness that you expected from him on any other day. if it weren’t for him not wanting to crush you with seungmin’s weight, you were sure he would have thrown the younger onto the bed with little to no thought. seungmin settles against you like he belongs there, nuzzling his face into the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, and you can feel how hot his cheeks are against your skin. his cock settles between your thighs, hard and rigid, and you let out a sympathetic hum when felix stops him from rutting up against you. he reaches around seungmin and lines the younger man up against your hole, a little clumsy with his movements, and you can feel his leaking cock twitch against you. 

felix pushes seungmin into you with a snap of his own hips, driving himself deep into seungmin as he gets buried into you in one motion. the moans you and seungmin let out harmonize into the thick air, the scent of sex swirling with the noises in a colorful kaleidoscope. the colors burst into fireworks as felix sets a fast pace, pleasuring the both of you so naturally. 

felix leans past seungmin to kiss you over the younger’s head, and seungmin keens at the sight of it. he’s sandwiched between the two of you, chasing pleasure from every angle, and witnessing the two people he loves most in the world make out on top of him - you’re not sure that he can even think in coherent sentences right now. with his cock surrounded by your tight heat and felix’s own ramming into him, you’re surprised he can even keep his eyes open. you know that this is the moment where he surrenders himself to felix completely. 

you reach your limit faster than you ever have, your clit untouched and throbbing; just the obscene sight of seungmin being used between you and felix is enough to bring you to the brink of pleasure.  

“seung- lix, can’t,” you gasp out, every push of felix’s hips driving seungmin’s cock further into you, making you jolt - it’s too much. 

if it’s too much for you, you can’t imagine what it’s like for seungmin.

you thought that felix would take pity on you and let you finish, too focused on punishing seungmin, but instead he pulls out of the younger man and pulls him out of you with a harsh pull. 

seungmin all but wails at the loss, bucking his hips down onto the mattress. you hadn’t realized how close he was, too lost in your own high, but his brow was pinched and his lips were twisted just right to tell you that he was. 

“please, please,” he begs, flipping himself over to kneel in front of felix. “let me come, please.”

“you think you deserve to after what you did today?” felix looks down at him, eyes cold as ice. your own neglected orgasm was brushed away by the sight of seungmin begging. he was usually too proud to beg, too in control of situations to even need to, but in this moment he was completely helpless to felix’ whims. 

“i’m sorry,” seungmin loses control over the tears brimming in his eyes, fat tears dripping onto his cheeks. “‘m sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to-”

he falls forward into felix’s chest, entire body shaking with his shuddering breaths, and you see felix falter for the first time tonight. he looks at you with slight panic, the coldness melting away into affection towards the man crying into him, and you simply nod at him. you know what to do, you blink. you can do this, you smile. 

“puppy,” felix shushes him, running a hand down seungmin’s spine. “it’s okay. you’re being so good for me now, right? my good boy.”

“‘m good,” seungmin hiccups into felix’s chest, nodding his tears into felix’s skin. 

“you’re sorry, and you’ve been punished, right?” felix coos at him, trailing his blunt fingernails up and down seungmin’s back. “you’re alright.”

“i can come?” seungmin’s words come out nasally from his tears. 

“yes, puppy,” felix moves his thigh so that it’s between seungmin’s legs, trapping his weeping cock against the flexed muscle there. “take what you need.”

seungmin whines out a broken thank you and starts his hips at a rapid pace, chasing the high that he had been denied over and over. you lose count of the sniffles, whines, and moans he lets out, but you can tell exactly when he comes because his entire body seizes and his throat constricts around a high keen. 

felix strokes his back through it, shushing him and pressing gentle kisses to his cheeks and face. you can’t help but smile at the gestures, a little overwhelmed at how naturally felix fell into this rhythm.  your smile freezes when his own turns sharp, and he winks at you before flipping seungmin over and sliding back into him. he pushes seungmin down onto the bed and the push of hot breath he puffs out at the impact hits your forgotten cunt. felix pushes one hand down onto seungmin’s nape as he fucks back into him, chasing his own high and nurturing your own. 

you can feel seungmin’s lips trembling against your core with every thrust, his body pushing up against yours until he’s trapped between your legs. he licks at you un uncoordinated motions, but it’s enough. a few beats of time later, between the harsh slaps of felix’s thighs hitting seungmin’s ass and seungmin reaching up to squeeze his hands around your thighs, you come with a content sigh. your legs tighten around seungmin, keeping him close as your hips jerk against his mouth, and the sounds of felix coming are drowned out by the blood rushing through your ears. 

the next few moments pass by like snapshots, blurred images separated by shocks of camera flutter, and by the time your brain catches up with your body you’re laying down in a new position. your head is pillowed on felix’ chest, him sandwiched between you and seungmin, the latter’s fingers tangled between yours. 

“what the hell just happened,” you blink a few times, jaw almost dropping open when you see the utter contentment on felix’s face. 

“i think i discovered something new,” felix’ voice is languid, rumbling against your ear like a muted symphony. 

“if this is what it takes for you to learn things, we need to piss you off more often,” you tease, teasing a finger around felix’s nipple just to hear him hiss and see the soft glare he sends towards you. like a kitten. 

a puppy and a kitten; what were you going to do with these boys?

“speak for yourself,” seungmin mumbles from felix’s other side, coming back to himself slowly. he glances blearily at you, and his drying tear tracks and red rimmed eyes make him look so incredibly beautiful. “i can’t move a single one of my limbs.”

[liketolaugh-writes]

Clark was embarrassed to admit it, but the first thing he did every morning was usually to check the inbox of his official Superman email. He tried not to check it too often, but in the morning, reading those emails reminded him why he did what he did. Why it was so important to keep treating each civilian with such compassion, and not allow himself to become preoccupied with other things while he worked.

There were at least half a dozen emails every morning, more after major events, and he read them all. Occasionally, one stood out.

To Superman,

I wanted to tell you that I really admire you for what you do. I'm fifteen now and you've been a pillar of safety for as long as I can remember, and I can't imagine how much dedication it takes day-to-day, especially for as long as you've been a hero. I hear stories all the time about how considerate you are, and how understanding, and how unconditional your compassion is. It's something I try to keep in mind.

You haven't saved me. Not personally, I mean, and that's not why I decided to email you. I actually wanted to ask you for some advice, if that's okay.

See, I'm not human. I'm not going to tell you what I am, but it's really obvious whenever I'm using my abilities, although I can hide it the rest of the time. (My parents are human and even they don't know. They don't like my kind.) I started doing hero work about... eight months ago now. But the people in my city are scared of me, because of what I am. And I wondered if you had any advice about that. Everyone knows what you are, and how powerful you are, but no one is afraid of you. Well... no one reasonable is afraid of you.

I'd really appreciate any suggestions you might have for me, but either way, thank you for everything that you do.

From Danny

Clark set his chin on his hands and considered the email for a while. It wasn't unheard of for young heroes to email him for advice - all of the Justice League founders got them sometimes except, amusingly, Batman, the only one with significant experience teaching new heroes. But it was rarer for those heroes to identify themselves as nonhuman.

His parents must have found him and taken him in without knowing what he was. For those same folks to be anti-alien... Clark's heart ached for the young hero, growing up without the kind of support Clark had gotten. It was admirable of him to stick to it despite an apparently chilly reception.

He set his hands on the keyboard and started to reply.

---

Danny was shocked to receive an actual reply from Superman just the morning after he sent his email. He hadn't expected a reply at all, really - surely Superman had better things to do than read emails from random civilians? But he'd been awake long past his bedtime, kept up by the aching burn on his back from Valerie, and sent it in a fit of self-pity.

And Superman had replied.

To Danny,

The more time passes, the more often I hear from kids and even young adults that I've been making them feel safe for as long as they've been alive. That is worth more to me than you could imagine, and it makes every day of hard work worthwhile. Given what you've told me already, I think you're doing an excellent job of keeping those values in mind.

Believe it or not, my reception was rather lukewarm at first as well, for much the same reason. Batman and my media contact, Lois Lane, helped me straighten the issue out over the first few years. (Yes, I'm sorry to say, it may take years for you to be fully accepted.)

Here are some suggestions:

Try to stick around for at least a little while after each incident you help with. Let people talk to you. Let them see you outside of fights or feats of strength. You are not a combat machine.

Don't be too secretive about yourself. You implied that you have a secret identity, but there are still things generic enough for you to share without giving yourself away. Work with those.

Don't hide what you are, and don't lie about the traits that you have from it. I know it might seem like a simple short-term solution, but it won't help you in the long run. It will just make people suspicious.

Let people know at least part of your motive for helping people. My planet was destroyed, and I want to protect this one. The same goes for Martian Manhunter. Starfire fled her planet and has found this one to be much kinder. Be as open as you can.

Keep yourself safe. Don't be open about your weaknesses, no matter what people say to you. Don't linger too long around people who openly hate you. Don't allow yourself to be a target for hatred.

I hope you find these ideas helpful. And feel free to contact me for further advice anytime you want. I check my email every morning and I'm always happy to help a budding hero.

From Superman

Danny muffled a delighted squeal into his arm. Sam and Tucker weren't going to believe this!

---

It soon became apparent that Danny was either mostly or completely without an adult support system, because he quickly took to emailing Clark every day, usually in the early evening or late at night. Clark continued to read them in the morning and reply to them as thoughtfully as he could, and Danny soon grew to be a constant presence in his inbox. Which also meant...

"You're worrying about Danny again," Lois pointed out over breakfast.

"I wouldn't worry about Danny if he didn't say such worrying things," Clark muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

Because over the last year, that trend had quickly become apparent. Whatever Danny was, their reception was more hostile than any other Clark had encountered on Earth, matching more to some of the blood feuds he'd heard of on other planets. Every few emails, he slipped in the most concerning little nuggets, seemingly without noticing.

One day my parents are going to invent a shield that actually locks me out of the house and I'll really be in trouble.

I keep trying to do what you said and stick around to talk, but it never lasts for long before the hunters show up and start shooting at me, which makes things kind of awkward.

I don't know what I would have done if defeating that tyrant guy hadn't brought my city back to Earth.

I wish there was some way I could convince the hunters that I'm just trying to help.

And now, most recently:

It's illegal to be what I am now. I'm getting kind of scared.

"I think I'm going to call out of work today," Clark said at last, still staring down at his computer. "I need to do some research."

What was Danny that he had apparently just been declared illegal?

Danny Fenton sends Superman a fan email in which he asks for advice. In it he says he is also a non-human hero (he is vague because being a ghost is illegal) Danny mentions that he is being raised by humans. His parents don't know about his activities or species and hate his kind.

Danny was mostly looking for advice on how to make people stop being scared of his non-human characteristics. But Clark really sees himself in this teenager's email. He knows he was lucky to get parents who loved him even as an alien, but he also recalls being young and scared that would change.

So they start regularly exchanging emails, and Superman becomes a kind of mentor even if Danny refuses to tell him anything about his identity.

[ariestrxsh]

sub!virgin!matt x experienced!pervy!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, innocence corruption, mommy kink, handjob, oral (m!receiving), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, sexualization of religious imagery

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: matt and his dad get into an argument over dinner when he disagrees with the way you're being spoken to, prompting matt to do something a bit out of character.

Please don't read this series if you're religious because it might really upset you. The whole basis for this story is that Matt is a sweet Christian virgin boy who has his innocence corrupted by his dommy mommy neighbor, so don't read if you're not into the plot !

me & u

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

(dedicated to the loml Jules aka @submattenthusiast)

me & u part five

You and Matt were sitting side-by-side at his dining room table while his dad was on the other side of the kitchen, cleaning up a few things while the three of you waited for the lasagna to finish baking.

The mouth-watering scent of garlic and oregano drifted through the air accompanied by the smell of the apple cinnamon candle burning a few feet from you. It had been less than a week since they'd moved in, but their house finally looked lived-in, and almost everything that was previously packed away in boxes was now given a place.

"You guys want anything to drink?" His dad asked as he peeked over at the two of you. "You got any beer?" You wondered aloud. "She's kidding, dad!" Matt blurted out, looking at you wide-eyed and gently nudging you with his leg under the table.

His dad let out a laugh. "Sorry, kid. I've only got soda, water, and milk," he relayed, swinging open the door of the fridge as he listed off the options. "I'll have a coke," Matt requested. "I'll have the same," you responded, smiling.

His dad brought over two cans of coke and placed them in front of each of you. "Lasagna's got about ten more minutes, so sit tight," his dad told you. You peered over at the blue-eyed boy next to you, your gaze lingering on his pink, pouty lips.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Matt innocently asked, reaching up to brush away whatever you were gawking at. "No. You're just so pretty. I can't stop looking at you," you whispered in a sultry voice. Your compliment colored his cheeks a shade of rosey pink.

"This shirt looks really good on you, too. It brings out your eyes," you commented, playing with the hem of the blue fabric. His breath hitched as your hand wandered south, slowly caressing his bulge over his pajama pants. His gaze darted over at you with his mouth hung open in shock and his eyebrows pinched together in a concerned expression.

"Please. Not in front of my dad. He'd be so mad if he found out," Matt softly whined. "Don't worry, baby. I'm not gonna let him find out. Just let me make you feel good," you purred into his ear, squeezing his erection through the cotton material.

Your eyes flickered over to Matt's dad, who was still in the kitchen with his back turned to the two of you as he loaded the dishwasher. You smirked back over at Matt as your fingers slithered into his waistband until you wrapped them firmly around his throbbing cock, setting it free from the restrictive fabric.

"Yes, mommy," he submitted to you, the words rolling off his tongue in a breathy moan. "Shhh," you held your finger up to your upturned lips. He nodded, relaxing into the chair and letting his stare drop to the movement of the red table cloth that was concealing your little secret.

"You're a naughty boy, aren't you? Letting me touch you under the table," you cooed, looking into his dreamy, blue eyes and his blissed out expression. He caught his bottom lip between his pearly-white teeth as he bit back a whimper, staring back at you. He weakly nodded, sinking into his pleasure.

His heart raced, worried the two of you would he caught, but a part of him liked the adrenaline rush. He could already feel the knot in his stomach taking form. "Naughty, naughty boy," you repeated softly in his ear as you brought him to the edge, knowing how much he loved being called that.

Just when it looked like he couldn't take much more, you slowed your movements to a stop. His dick throbbed in your grasp, silently begging you to keep going. "Please. So close," he whispered.

"Not yet. I wanna take my time," you cruelly responded, denying him relief. He shot you a desperate look that said, right now? You want to take your time right now? In this situation? But the only words that drifted from his pouty lips was a quiet, "You're crazy." He meant it as a compliment, of course, and you took it as such.

The sound of plates, coffee mugs, and silverware clanking around drowned out the sweet sounds he made. You flashed him a mischevious grin as you circled the sensitive tip with your thumb, intensifying his pleasure. His head gently fell back, and he emitted another soft whine.

"Dinner's ready," Matt's dad's voice broke through the sexual tension as he headed in your direction with two plates. Matt sat up in his chair, straightening his back and clearing his throat. He slowed his breathing, trying to be inconspicuous about what was being done to him under the table.

"Thanks, dad," he managed to squeak out. "Would you like to say the prayer before we dig in?" Matt's dad asked you as he sat across from you two with his own plate. "You know, I'll be honest, I don't pray much," you admitted to his dad.

"Can you show me how to, Matt? I know how hard you pray every night," you smirked over at the sweet, shy boy to your right as the images of him getting down on his knees flickered through your mind. He glanced over at you, wide-eyed while you continued slowly stroking his length beneath the table, every now and again brushing your thumb over his swollen head.

"I-I don't know. Maybe you could say the prayer, dad," Matt stammered, tightly gripping the seat of his chair. "Why don't you wanna say the prayer, Matt?" His father asked, furrowing his brow. "Yeah, what is it, Matt? You feel guilty about something?" You quietly mumbled beside him, only loud enough for him to hear.

"O-okay. I'll say the prayer," Matt agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat, interlocking his fingers, and lowering his gaze to the movement happening underneath the tablecloth. Matt's father lowered his head and closed his eyes, and you followed his lead, periodically peeling open an eye to peek over at Matt and the way he reacted to your touch.

"Lord," Matt said, wetting his lips. "Thank you, Lord, for providing for us," Matt started to pray, but quickly needed to bite back a whine. You watched as his dick print showed through the cloth, precum trickling from his tip and leaving a wet stain on the red fabric.

The sensation of your hand pumping his shaft while his cockhead rubbed against the silky material sent him into a blissful state that nearly made him forget what he was doing, but he quickly directed himself back to his train of thought.

"Thank you for blessing this food. May it s-strengthen and nourish our b-bodies," he managed to get through his sentence without sounding any more nervous than usual. "Thank you. In Jesus' name, amen," he hurried to finish the prayer. "Amen," you and Matt's dad said in unison.

Right as Matt's father was about to start eating, his phone started to ring. "I gotta take this. Excuse me," he apologetically pardoned himself as he picked up. "Hello?" His voice drifted off as he made his way to the other room.

"You almost let me get you off during the prayer, didn't you, naughty boy?" You purred, yanking on Matt's hair with your free hand and burying his face into your chest, his strangled moans dampened by your breasts. "Come on, Matt. You gotta hurry up. Cum for mommy," you whispered, raking through his hair with your fingers.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, looked up at you with his big, blue eyes and nodded, giving himself over to the desire that overtook him. His cock twitched in your grasp as you fervently pumped away, a sticky white fluid erupting from it and dousing your hand.

His whole body shivered, and he buried his face into your bosom like an embarrassed little boy. "That was amazing," you murmured, rustling his brown locks and kissing him on the forehead. "That felt so good," he told you, taking a napkin off the table to wipe himself off with.

"I need to go wash my hands," you chuckled, getting up from your seat and darting off over to the sink to clean off the evidence. You took Matt's dirty napkin with you and chucked it into the trash.

Humiliation tinted his pink cheeks as he called his breath back to him, his chest rising and falling with every labored inhale and exhale. "You're crazy, you know that?" Matt smirked at you, quickly tucking his dick back into his pants. "I know," you flashed him a cheeky smile and washed your hands.

As soon as you sat back down, Matt's dad came back in through the door. "Sorry about that. You guys didn't have to wait for me to start eating," he said, motioning towards your untouched plates. "Oh, we didn't mind," you replied, holding back a giggle, concealing the real reason why you hadn't started digging into your lasagna yet. Matt blushed, biting back a grin as he peered over at you, still trying to catch his breath.

"So, Matt tells me you like classic rock," Matt's dad started off, opening up conversation before taking a bite of his lasagna. "I do. Blue Öyster Cult, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, AC/DC, stuff like that," you responded.

"Is that the stuff your parents listen to?" He asked. "Oh, no. They hate it. That's why I started listening to it," you laughed. Matt's dad cleared his throat, glanced over at Matt, and turned his attention back to you.

"So, do you go to church?" Matt's dad asked, changing the subject and hoping you'd say something he liked. "God no. I don't really believe in that kind of thing, but you know, I'll always go if Matt invites me," you replied, reaching over and giving Matt's hand a comforting squeeze.

"Are you open to converting?" His father casually asked, shrugging his shoulders. "Honestly, I couldn't see myself converting, you know? My lifestyle and Christianity don't really agree," you replied with a mouth full of food. "Well, Matt here has always discussed wanting his future wife to be a woman of God," his dad casually mentioned. "Dad," Matt sharply interjected.

"What?" Matt's dad defensively asked. "That's not necessarily what I want. That's w-what y-you want," Matt stuttered, avoiding eye contact with his dad as he stabbed his lasagna with the prongs of his fork. "Where's this coming from, Matt?" His dad asked.

"J-just don't grill her about religion, dad. I like her despite that. D-don't put that kind of pressure on her," Matt said with a shaky voice. Matt's dad was taken aback. Matt wasn't usually the type to dissent from his dad, but he wasn't given much of a reason to until now.

"What's gotten into you, Matt?" His father asked, giving him a disappointed look and crossing his arms over his chest. "N-nothing," Matt replied, shaking his head.

"I think this girl is a bad influence on you," his dad replied, talking about you as if you weren't in the room. Your heart sank. "Ever since the two of you have been hanging out, there's something off about you, Matt. Something different. I don't know if I like it," Matt's dad said. Matt sat in silence, picking at his food but not eating any of it.

"What are your intentions with my son?" His dad asked, peering at you from across the table, setting down his silverware and interlocking his fingers to show you how serious he was.

The truth was, the first day you'd laid eyes on Matt, your intentions were simply to sleep with him, and your thought process didn't go much further than that. However, after getting to know him and spending time with him, the way you felt about him became more convoluted.

"I just want to make him happy," you shrugged, peering over at Matt who smiled back. You weren't sure what answer either of them were looking for, and to be honest, you hadn't pondered that question much yourself, so you were somewhat surprised at your own answer when it fell from your lips. Matt's dad remained unconvinced.

"If you wanna make him happy, maybe you should leave him alone and let him find a good Christian girl," his dad blurted out. You clenched your jaw. You felt a mix of anguish and rage as the words left his mouth.

"Are you serious, dad? You can't just say that to my girlfriend," Matt shot back, getting up from his chair and grabbing your hand. You and Matt hadn't discussed labels or anything, but the way he was standing up for you and referring to you as his girlfriend turned you on a bit.

"C'mon. You don't have to listen to this," Matt said to you as you both started to head towards his front door. "Where do you think you're going?" His dad called out after the two of you. "Out," Matt huffed without looking back, slamming the door shut behind him.

You and Matt stepped outside, feeling the cool air as it rushed over your hot skin. It was a testament to the ever-changing seasons, summer hanging on by a thread as autumn began to take its place. In the same way, the day was fading, the sun sinking low into the evening sky.

"Holy shit," you said in disbelief, completely stunned by the way Matt had spoken to his father. "I've never talked to him like that before," Matt whispered, glancing at you with a dazed look on his face.

"Did it feel good?" You wondered, your lips curling into a smile. "It did," Matt nodded after a long exhale. "C'mon. Let's go hide in my treehouse until he cools down," you suggested, grabbing Matt by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into your backyard.

"I'm really sorry he said all of that," Matt apologized to you once the two of you were perched side-by-side in your treehouse as you sprinkled weed into your rolling paper.

"Listen. You don't have to try to make me feel better. I wouldn't want my good little Christian son hanging out with a girl like me either," you snorted, flicking your lighter and feeling the warmth of the fire as you held it up to the end of your joint.

Matt watched as the flame engulfed the paper and lit up your facial features. The scent of marijuana filled the air. You blew out a plume of smoke and watched it dissipate against the pink and orange sky as the sun started to fade out of view.

"I'm scared to go home," Matt whispered, flashing you a look of vulnerability. "We can stay here as long as you want," you assured him, handing him the joint. He leaned his head against your shoulder as he took a puff and slowly exhaled, feeling the anxiety and worry float away with the smoke he blew out into the atmosphere.

"Can I ask you something?" You wondered, only realizing after you'd asked how redundant it was to ask if you could ask a question. "Sure," Matt timidly responded, passing the joint back to you.

"Did you mean it back there when you called me your girlfriend?" You asked, aimlessly ashing the joint off to the side. "I'm sorry. I know we haven't talked about it-" Matt started to say, but you cut him off. "I wanna be your girlfriend," you inserted.

"Y-you do?" Matt stammered, his pretty blue eyes raising to meet yours as a swarm of butterflies fluttered around in his stomach. You nodded and smiled. The two of you sat quietly for a few minutes, passing the joint back and forth until you felt the tension from earlier in the night leave your body.

"I just want to do something that'll make him mad," Matt told you, shaking his head as he replayed the way his father had spoken so brazenly to you. "How mad?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and handing the joint over again. He took it from you and took a long drag, the chery end crackling as he pulled from it.

"Something that'll really piss him off," Matt confessed to you. He'd never had this urge before, to purposefully do something his dad didn't want him to do out of pure spite. You took the joint back from Matt as your lips shifted into a smug grin.

"I bet it would piss him off if I got his innocent son high and fucked him in my treehouse, wouldn't it?" You cooed, your voice thick with lust. You held intense eye contact as you took one final drag from the joint and put it out.

"Oh, he'd be so mad if I knew I gave it up to a slut like you," he whispered, knowing how much you loved being called that. A flash of desire seeped into his expression. Your panties started to cling to your wet folds as you imagined corrupting the sweet boy beside you.

"Well, then let's make him livid," you seductively whispered, letting your fingertips crawl up his chest. He slowly nodded, his shaky breath growing shallow. You snaked your hand around his neck, firmly grasping it, not enough to choke him - just enough to excite him and test the waters.

You pressed your lips up against his, eliciting a soft moan from Matt as your tongue slipped into his mouth. You grew more aggressive in your touch, slightly squeezing your fingers around the boy's neck in a gesture of dominance as you bit down on his plump lips, leaving them tender and bruised once you were done. He was left with a warm, excited feeling as blood rushed to his cock.

"You know. The way you stood up for me back there? It was super hot. I wanted to knock everything off your kitchen table and fuck you on it," you whispered against his mouth, guiding him to lay back as you pinned him to the floor of your treehouse.

"Yeah? You liked that?" He asked, looking up at you wide-eyed, his chest heaving with every breath as he anticipated your next move. "I fucking loved it," you purred into his ear before you pulled back.

You started tugging down his pajama pants and his boxers, and his cock eagerly sprung out as you set him free. You could see precum was already drooling from his slit, and the cool breeze blowing over his tip made him shudder in delight. You grabbed ahold of it, firmly holding it in your grip, just barely unable to close your fist around its girth. Matt bit his lip as you did this.

"So big," you whispered, licking your lips and staring at it in the glow of the stringed lights that hugged the branches of your treehouse. "Really?" Matt asked, propping himself up on his elbows and peering down at the way your fingers were wrapped around it.

"Yeah, trust me. I've seen a lot. This one is big," you smirked up at him. "I didn't know," Matt replied, trying to hold back a grin, liking the idea that he had a big dick. You started gently working your hand up and down on Matt's length, coaxing a few moans from his lips.

You loved the idea of being the first person to ever touch Matt's most intimate places and to be the first to ever make him sound like that. You lowered your mouth and wrapped your lips around his sensitive head, saltiness filling your taste buds.

"Oh!" Matt softly moaned. His cock jerked at the unexpected sensation of your warm, soft tongue grazing the underside of his tip. You started lightly suckling on it, which drove Matt crazy. "Wow," Matt whispered, completely blown away by the feeling. You went slow and gentle, learning every vein and every ridge with your tongue.

"Your mouth.." Matt started to say, but his voice trailed off. "What is it, baby? Say it," you purred. "It feels sooo good," he whimpered, holding a strand of your hair out of the way. You hummed against his cock, slowly moving your mouth up and down on his length as you circled his tip your tongue.

"Mommy," he squealed, gripping the fabric of the back of your shirt until his fingers started to cramp up. You bobbed your head and up down faster, listening closely to the pretty sounds he made as he discovered for the first time how much he liked getting head.

He laid back and sank into the floorboards beneath him, giving himself over to your soft, velvety mouth. He entangled his fingers into your hair and gently pulled you further down onto his twitching cock. His tip tickled the back of your throat, and he started subtly bucking his hips up to get as much as he could out of the sensation of having his dick buried between your lips.

He curled his toes until they started going numb. A slew of needy moans and soft cries unfurled from his pink lips as he tossed his head back and screwed his eyes shut. You slowly slid back up his shaft, slipping him out of your mouth before he could finish.

"I knew you'd love that," you whispered, smiling up at him as you started undoing the button on your jeans. "I did, but you always stop when I'm so close," he replied, propping himself up on his arms again. That's when he noticed you slipping out of your pants. Then your panties. You took the lace garment and slingshot it in his direction.

"That's because I'm about to make you feel even better than I did with my mouth," you seductively responded, straddling him and hovering right over his pink tip. Matt peered down as you lined him up with your entrance and made his length disappear inside you. His jaw dropped, and his facial expression softened as you lowered yourself onto him.

"You're so wet," he whimpered as he felt you stretch around him. "It's all your fault," you replied, pulling your top off over your head and revealing your perfect tits to him before you grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them above his head. "So pretty," he whispered, staring at your breasts in the glow of the fairy lights strewn around the room.

Matt loved the way you took charge. He loved that you knew exactly what you wanted and that you unapologetically took it from him. The sensation of your cunt clenching around his cock as you started bouncing up and down on it had him seeing stars.

He knitted his eyebrows together, pleasure wrinkling his expression as he let his head fall back against the floor with a soft thump. A loud, satisfied "fuuuck," poured from his lips.

"Naughty boy. I've never heard you say that word before," you said in a breathy moan as you smirked. "Can't help it, mommy. Your pussy feels so fucking good," Matt whispered, watching the way your tits jiggled as you picked up speed.

You were shocked but turned on by the foul language he was using as you continued rolling your hips forward, finding your rhythm. "I wonder what your dad would think of you right now. I bet he'd be so mad that you're swearing," you maliciously smiled down at him, knowing that would probably be the least of his concerns.

He struggled against the way you restrained his wrists just to see what would happen, and his cock throbbed inside of you as you tightened your hold on them. "You like that?" You asked, feeling the way the sweet boy squirmed around beneath you. "Yes, mommy," a strangled moan fell from his lips.

"You're such a naughty boy, aren't you?" You asked, arching your back and angling his cock deep inside of you in a way that felt incredible for both of you. You released his wrists, and your hand flew to your clit, rubbing it in fast, tight circles.

You threw your head back as you approached your orgasm. Matt watched in awe as you fell apart on his cock, your whole body trembling as dopamine and oxytocin flooded your system. Your thighs were burning, and your knees ached from the hard wood beneath you, but you powered through.

You finished yourself off, your walls rhythmically throbbing around Matt's dick and sending him over the edge shortly after. "Oh fuck," he whimpered, feeling his cock tighten and twitch as you rode him wildly. His eyes rolled back into his head and his jaw fell open as he pumped you full of his cum.

He submitted to the earth-shattering pleasure that rippled through him and overpowered him, like being swallowed by a series of cascading waves, each one topping the last. You slowed the movement of your hips and came to a stop once you were sure you'd both finished.

The two of you gazed longingly into each other's eyes under the blanket of stars as your breaths slowly returned to both of you. Four days. Four days was all it took for him to fall in love with you. He'd known you for four days, and he had just crossed a line with you that he hadn't even crossed in his three-year-long relationship with May.

You leaned down while he was still inside of you, grabbed his jaw, and gave him a long, passionate kiss. Matt couldn't get enough of you. He loved your soft lips, your smooth skin, and the way you always tasted a bit like weed. You filled his senses, leaving him feeling almost delirious.

He chuckled against your mouth mid-kiss. "What is it?" You asked, caressing his flushed, pink face that was coated in a light layer of sweat. "I can't believe we just did that. That was the best orgasm I've ever had," Matt admitted.

"Me too," you said, nibbling on your bottom lip. "I thought you said you've had sex with a lot of people before," Matt gave you a skeptical look. "I have, but I don't know. This was just better for some reason," you confessed, shrugging a shoulder. You knew it was because this was the first time such deep feelings were involved, but you didn't want to say it out loud and risk sounding stupid.

You didn't have to say it. Matt understood. He bit back a smile. You peppered his face in light kisses, whispering praises to him about how good he felt and how much you loved him. He stared back at you with his glossy, bedroom eyes and his fucked out expression.

"If I ever have to move away again, I'm taking you with me."

Matt walked home late that night, the thirty feet from your treehouse to his front door, his mind flooded with thoughts of you, hoping he could just sneak in without alerting his dad. He quietly turned the knob, stepped inside, and shut it, making sure not to trigger the sound of the latch.

When Matt spun around, his dad was sitting at the kitchen table in the soft glow of the candle that was burning down to the wick. It was like he hadn't moved since Matt had left, as if he had been waiting for him to come home and scold him.

Matt swallowed the knot in his throat, his palms beginning to sweat. He was certain if his dad turned on a main light, he'd see his bloodshot eyes and his dilated pupils. Thankfully, he didn't. He kept it short and sweet. He let out a defeated sigh before he spoke.

"Son. I'm sorry. I had no right to talk to your friend that way," he started off. "Girlfriend," Matt corrected him. "I didn't even know you guys had made anything official yet. I feel like you don't tell me things anymore," his dad said in response.

"We just decided tonight," Matt muttered, avoiding direct eye contact with his dad. "Well, either way. I'm sorry. I understand if you're upset with me. Your girlfriend is welcome over whenever, and I'll apologize to her, too the next time I see her."

Matt narrowed his eyes and glanced over at his dad, wondering where the sudden change of heart had come from. "Just promise me, son, that you'll keep God at the forefront of your relationship and that you won't give into temptation," his dad asked of him.

Matt half-heartedly shrugged and hesitantly nodded. Matt's dad could see the resistance in his response, but he didn't want to pry. "Goodnight, dad," Matt replied before carrying his heavy feet across the kitchen and trudging up the stairs.

He didn't have the heart to tell his dad that he had been questioning things.

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