#but like I could be entirely wrong about all of this

[bluukive]

Eyes On You

summary - you finally decide to give the gym a go, getting yourself involved with a man who's dead set on pushing you to your limits

wc - 5.4k

content - MDNI, insecure!reader x gymowner!Sukuna, mentions of weight, Sukuna's harsh at first, eventual mutual pining, solo mast. (m + F, separate), 0ral (f receiving), face s;tting, handj0b, slight body worship, submissive reader, freaky in the gym shower (anyone could hear them...but no one does?), teasing, hella unrealistic, really amateur writing like please I'm cringing so hard

an - uhm I've never written a mini fic before !! please excuse the awkward writing

Lazily proofread by me mb

It took all the courage you had to even think about signing up to the gym that opened down the road, but the little voice in the back of your head was telling you to go. Just check it out, it said. Walk around a little, and then right back out. Shouldn’t be hard, right?

Right?

Wrong. How wrong you were. It was easier said than done in hindsight, but you didn’t expect the heavy thud of rock music to blare throughout the facility until you felt your bones tremble. Nor did you expect large gaggles of gym bros swarming around the equipment, a few heads turning the moment you pushed open the glass door. Sure, there were enough women there also, but not enough to deter you from yanking the drawstrings of your hoodie. Your vision became obstructed as the hood tightened around your face, whispered curses leaving your lips.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered, eyes darting side to side as the social anxiety set in. You were close to turning around on your heel and out of this building, leg already twitching. But a low, gravelly voice called out to you from beside a water fountain you were unfortunately standing too close to. 

“Lost? Nervous? Which one is it, girl?”

You don’t know how you missed this giant of a man, especially when his cropped, pink hair made him stick out like a sore thumb. Some strands were plastered to his sweaty forehead and concealed the judgement of his stare. Barely. His tank top also did a poor job of hiding those hulking muscles, flexing slightly with full veins as he gripped his water bottle. Looks like you caught him mid-workout. Oh, and you’re gawking like an idiot.

Nice going. 

“Are you deaf or something? Speak up already,” the stranger clicked his tongue impatiently, and you internally panicked. You wondered whether manifestation was real and if you could will for the stranger to just explode. Actually, make it the entire room. An embarrassed grimace appeared on your face as you realised you had the attention of a couple of people on you.

“Uh, no. No, I’m not deaf. Just looking around,” you began to explain, undoing the drawstrings of your hoodie once you realised how utterly stupid you must have looked. But then the stranger gave you a grimace of his own, lips quirking up as his eyes landed on your dishevelled hair. You looked like a mess. 

Way to go. Now you can’t show your face in public. And yes, it really was that deep.

And so you smoothened your hair out and plastered an overly enthusiastic grin on your face to compensate for the fact you couldn’t socialise. “Where do I sign up?”

He snorted, a sceptical brow raised as he checked out your incredibly outdated attire. “You want to sign up?” 

You nodded. Fuck, you weren’t even meant to say that. The urge to slap a hand over your forehead grew tenfold, but you fought it.

A shaky breath left you as you gave in to that little voice reminding you that no, you didn’t fit into those jeans you’ve had your eyes on for a while. No, your mom hadn’t stopped making comments about your body and lack of love life. 

“...Yes, please,” you said after a beat of silence, and that was that. Sukuna, who was apparently a trainer, led you through the whole process. Sign this, read that, fork over some of your wage. You know, the typical procedure. The new you was coming very soon, you told yourself after internally crying over the money spent. You’ll buy those jeans in no time.

═══════★

“Sloppy fuckin’ form, girl. Sharpen up,” Sukuna barked, circling around you like a goddamn hawk. 

Oh, you swore you were going to quit that gym soon. He had been riding your ass for the past couple of weeks, pushing you further than you’ve ever pushed yourself. Sukuna called you out on your bullshit that first day when you tried hiding in the corner with your phone out, coaxing you onto a mat and making you stretch. Since then, Sukuna kept an eye on you, making sure you were red-faced by the end of the workout. 

A sharp click of his tongue brought you back from your thoughts. You groaned, raising your hips from the floor and spreading out your limbs. You were currently doing a plank, which appeared to be dissatisfactory in Sukuna’s eyes. 

“I’m doing it, I’m doing it,” you hissed, head tilting up as best as you could so that you may glare at your tormentor. A scoff left his lips.

“Yeah, you’re as intimidating as fuckin’ pebble right now. Head down.”

Your head dropped reluctantly. The quiet grunt you accidentally let out didn’t escape the trainer, but he wasn’t about to soften up. Neither were you out of sheer stubbornness. 

However, the burn in your thighs and arms became more noticeable. An ‘oof’ sound left your lips as your jellied arms buckled and you face-planted the floor. Another tut and more chuckles from the other members scattered in the gym. 

“Take five,” Sukuna couldn’t help but roll his eyes at you. 

A dismissive noise left you as you remained face-down on the floor, Sukuna’s fading footsteps and mutters of annoyance filling your reddening ears. Your face burned. 

Swallow your pride and quit, the voice in your head mocked. 

But two weeks in? You couldn’t. Not when you had stupidly formed a grudge against Sukuna for pushing you so hard too early on. You shook your head and got back into form, lower lip jutting out in sheer determination. You were completely unaware of the approving nod from the other end of the room.

═══════★

Walking was simply out of the question today. You threw the covers off and gritted your teeth at the way your legs throbbed with each shift of your body. 

It had been maybe five sessions since you had face-planted the floor in front of Sukuna. It didn't look like he'd ease up any time soon after that incident. In fact, he grew meaner. That apparently made you like him more.

The mere thought of him made you shrivel up in bed and grimace, but you couldn’t fight the slight inkling of attraction you felt towards him, slight being an understatement.

It was bound to happen eventually, right? You'd be stupid not to be attracted to him. Each muscle looked like it had been carved right out of stone. Hell, now that you think about it, it was probably also those unamused looks he was throwing your way that made you keep going back to that cursed gym. 

You were there now after hyping yourself up in the mirror back home. Not for too long, though. One look at your chest flailing around was enough to make you curl your lip and shrug on that tacky pair of sweats and hoodie you liked to work out in. You skipped breakfast and settled on a shitty cereal bar you found in your kitchen. It wasn't the best thing to do, but you were set on losing weight. 

The air reeked, to be frank. It was the first thing you noticed after walking into the gym. Testosterone and sweat mixed with a strong hit of regret. Regardless, you pushed through and continued shuffling on your boneless legs. You set your bag down in some lonely corner and mentally prepared yourself for Sukuna to berate you about God knows what. It was something new every time you came here. 

“Told your stubborn ass to stretch after the workout,” he drawled once he sauntered over, an amused look on his face. “Just had to stomp out like a little brat, didn’t you?”

“That's not true. I just wanted to go home and shower,” you scoffed in response. But Sukuna didn’t reply. Instead, he raised a brow that screamed oh, really? You could feel the back of your neck prickle with an uncomfortable heat as he stared you down. 

And then he walked off. Asshole.

“So fucking weird. I mean, who does that?” you rambled to no one, getting in form and raising your arms over your head as you stretched. The slight sting of your muscles being used was actually rather welcome for once. 

═══ Later ═══

By the time you were done, you were warm and sweaty. Sukuna hadn’t spoken to you much today, too busy chewing out a new member of the gym. Poor dude, you thought. But at least it wasn't you. 

This gave you time to look in the mirror, a poor habit of yours. Your eyes cast over your body agonisingly slow as you checked for any changes in physique. Little bursts of cool air hit your flushed skin when you lifted your t-shirt with one hand slightly to inspect yourself, the other hand fanning your face. You then sighed, running a hand over your hip. 

“The fuck are you doing?” 

A garbled yelp left you as you dropped your top and looked at Sukuna from the mirror without turning around. His red eyes were trained at your hip, and he looked almost disappointed at the fact that your clothes had covered again. You whizzed around and stood there stiff. A pause, and then you were wondering why the hell your mouth was starting to run. 

“Nothin’. None of your business,” you chuckled nervously, hands clenching at your sides. “Just checking progress.” 

“Yeah, ‘cus that’s the only reason why you cop a feel of your own body after every session looking like a kicked puppy,” Sukuna’s eyes remained lidded, flicking between the mirror and you. 

“Oh, cmon. I look nothing like a kicked puppy-”

“Yeah, you do. Every single time.”

“You're watching me like some perv-”

“And what?”

You paused and inhaled deeply, a stupid smirk appearing on Sukuna's lips as you grew increasingly frustrated with him. “Will you at least let me finish my sentence?”

“No can do. Wanna explain yourself?” He asked, beefy arms folding over his chest. You had to forcefully drag your eyes away from the slight jiggle of his pecs, your body reacting similarly to that of a Victorian male seeing an ankle for the first time. 

“Eyes up here. Talk to me,” Sukuna repeated, softer this time. Your hands fiddled with each other as you debated whether to open up to this hothead. It was likely that he'd a) make fun of you, or b) propose on the spot and fawn over how perfect you were (extremely unlikely, but a girl could dream).

Sukuna watched as your lips parted and the lie tumbled out of your mouth since it was easier than telling the truth.

“Just stretching.”

An unimpressed grunt rumbled in the man's chest. “Bullshit, but keep telling yourself that.”

“Tch. What else am I doing then?”

“Fuck knows, but quit it. That's not healthy,” a finger jabbed at your forehead, and you swatted his hand away without thinking. Your chest tightened slightly. Was that genuine concern?

Sukuna saw your reluctance to accept his words, making him shoot a deadpan look your way. “I'm being serious. Stop grabbing at yourself before I throw a dumbbell at the mirror,” he scolded, narrowed eyes boring into yours.

“I see you busting your ass every time you're here. You may not think I notice it, but I do. Trust me. Do you really think I’d push someone so hard if I didn’t see something in them?”

He was speaking to you like a trainer now, but you could hear some of his own personal feelings slip through the cracks. It made your throat feel tighter. 

“To be honest, I didn't think you'd see,” you mumbled, swallowing the lump in your throat and wiping your increasingly sweaty hands on your t-shirt.

“Well, I have. Now, stop touching your hips like that. They're fine,” he scolded. Sukuna didn't even wait for a reply as he walked off, probably to slap the back of someone's head again.

For the first time that day, your body felt less heavy. 

And you could confidently meet your eyes in the mirror again. 

═══════★

With your eyes fluttering shut, you shifted and lay on your back whilst reminiscing on Sukuna's words. Maybe it was your memory playing tricks on you, but you swore his eyes lingered on your body in an appreciative way. Maybe he saw more in you than you had ever seen in yourself. But realistically, maybe you were that attention deprived that you were making up scenarios to feel special. 

An exasperated groan left you as you rubbed your face in your hands, heat creeping up onto your cheeks yet again. Honestly? You couldn't remember the last time you felt so whipped over someone before. It had been just under a month since you joined that gym, and Sukuna was already plaguing your every thought. 

It's not like Sukuna was your teacher or anything. You were both legal adults. Yeah, maybe you were just some stubborn brat who frequented his gym. But that didn't mean you couldn't feel anything for him. 

But why did you feel guilty? Was it the way he was so uncaring yet so observant at the same time that made you feel this way? Or was it the fact that you saw yourself as unworthy of this arousal?

Regardless, you could feel your cunt beginning to ache. You tried relieving it by squeezing your thighs together, but it was useless. The muscles in your body still felt tight, and the effects of the gym lingered. God, why couldn’t you escape him?

Slick noises filled the bedroom not long after you began questioning your whole dynamic with Sukuna. Yes, it was deeply embarrassing and you’ll surely regret it later. But right now, the sensation of your fingers rubbing tight circles over your clit was too pleasurable to ignore. 

With each ashamed jerk of your hips as you lay there, the plush skin of your thighs shook as you raised it slightly and bent your knee. Even though you lived alone and no one was around to hear you, you bit into your fist to conceal the plethora of needy mewls and gasps falling from your lips. The towel had come undone, exposing the curves of your writhing body. The cool air contrasted deliciously with the wet heat between your parted legs. Now that your breasts were free, the hand at your mouth moved lower so that you lazily brush a couple fingers over a hardened nipple. 

But the moment you did that, existential dread crept over you and you withdrew your hand. Self-consciousness hit you like a ton of bricks and you sat up abruptly, face burning at the fact that you were getting off at the thought of some musclehead at the gym. Your eyes fluttered down, unfocused and blurry from denying yourself of an orgasm. You guessed it was time for another shower. Maybe that’d wash the shame off of you. 

═══════★

After a few days of ignoring the urge to go to the gym, you gave in and dragged yourself out of your home. There’s no way you could look at Sukuna in the eye now. That was one of the many thoughts whizzing round your head as you kept your eyes low and headed to your usual corner of the gym. You could smell the lecture coming from the pink-haired man from a mile away, and boy, you were right. 

You were barely done with your first warmup set when you heard his gruff voice cut through the blaring music. He was not amused. 

“You suuure took your sweet time coming back, Sick of working out already?”

And that’s when you froze. Your heart quite literally dropped to your ass once you managed to stand up straight, but your eyes remained on the mat below you both. 

“Was busy, that’s all,” which was a bold lie. He could tell.

“Hm,” Sukuna began. “Looks like you were too busy to even do your stretches properly.”

A thick set of fingers met your back, the digits pressing into your spine so that your posture was correct. An awkward noise left your lips at the contact.

“Straighten up. At this rate, you won’t even be able to workout because of body pains.”

But that was the least of your problems. Fantasies of his hands coaxing your thighs open and his tongue doing unspeakable things to you filled your mind, causing you to move back sharply. You cleared your throat, noticing again the displeased look on Sukuna’s face.

“I didn’t think you’d care if I turned up or not,” you admitted sheepishly, a bold assumption on your end.

A low, hum of laughter rumbled in his chest, which quite frankly did nothing to soothe the steady pulsing between your thighs. “Oh, I don’t. I just don’t want to be losing out on money through your absence.”

Ouch. 

Your head turned, and he saw the mildly offended look on your face. His words were just enough to make you forget about the heat of his body as he walked around slowly to stand in front of you. 

“I’m kidding, i'm kidding. Mostly," he borderline purred. "Is everything okay, though? You’ve been ignoring me more than you usually do,” Sukuna cocked his head to the side, and you wondered how he could sound both amused and irritated at the same time.

A short huff left your lips, almost sounding amused. If only he knew why you had been avoiding him.

“Nah, everything’s good. Just working out, y’know. Like a normal person would.”

Sukuna’s lip quirked up again, a stupidly attractive habit he had when he felt playful. “Riiiight. If that’s the case, stop lookin’ at me like I’ve fucked your life up or something.”

Your brows furrowed as you struggled to keep your eyes on him. The fuck did he know?! But that frantic look on your face didn’t stop him from running that mouth of his. 

“Oh, but who knows? I might have already. And in that case?” he let his voice drop down a couple of notches, leaning forward until you could practically taste his aftershave on your tongue. “You’re welcome, I guess.” He let his eyes drift down, pausing at your lips, and then down to the swell of your breasts through your t-shirt. 

Were you meant to ask him to look for longer, or slap him?

Once the realisation that maybe, just maybe Sukuna was attracted to you settled in your stomach like a heavy weight, he pulled back and walked away slowly, eyes on you until the last possible moment. You blinked once, then twice. 

You were dumbfounded, but also aroused. What the hell was going on with you both?

═══════★

Sukuna’s private office was…something. Low hanging fluorescent lights flickered periodically as he sat there in the busted chair, sun already having set outside. The occasional clang of metal reverberated around the gym outside of the private wall, and the air inside was heavy with dust, sweat, and intense longing. 

Sukuna’s eyes were screwed shut, unable to physically eat the half-chewed apple on his desk. His cock was aching in his sweats. It’s only been under a week since you came back to the gym, and he’s losing it. He’d be lying if he said you had caught his eye immediately. Sukuna remembers the day you came bumbling in like an idiot into his gym all wide-eyed like you’ve never seen a man before. 

But how wrong he was. You had a mouth on you under all that awkwardness. But most importantly, you were so reactive. He doesn’t know why he liked it so much, but seeing you stiffen up at his touches, push out your lower lip when he pissed you off… It really set him off. Not to mention the noises, God. Your soft pants after a workout, your low groans as you stretched those legs of yours.

Honestly? Sukuna didn’t understand why on earth you were so insecure. He had the urge to drag you away from the mirror every time he saw that disappointed look on your face after each workout session. He could spend ages running his hands across every soft inch of your body to show you that you were fine. There was no need for you to push yourself so hard. 

The mental imagery of burying his face deep into your pussy pained him. It was embarrassing, really, the way he was always ogling at you bent over the dumbbell racks or watching your throat bob with every gulp of water. Sukuna rubbed his face with his hands, groaning and manspreading further in his seat as his cock practically weeped to be freed. He could feel the front of his boxers dampen with his precum, which he had been trying to ignore for a while now. But it was useless. Sukuna may have felt like a hormonal idiot for freeing his length from the confinements of his sweatpants, but he saw no use in denying himself the pleasure of fantasising you on top of him. 

It wasn’t long before Sukuna had a large hand nestled deep in his pants, wrapped around his throbbing cock. He couldn’t be bothered taking it out, and something about ruining his clothes to the thought of you made it all the more thrilling. When he shut his eyes, he could see the full outline of your body underneath your clothes, the way the outline of your sports bra was visible due to sweat after vigorously exercising. 

His cock twitched in his hand and he finally began pumping his hand lazily. Sukuna could imagine you walking in on him, the frazzled look you’d shoot his way. He wanted you to see him like this, but unfortunately for him, you had gone home. 

“Fuckin’ hell, you’ve done it now. Messed me up all good and p-proper, huh?” His hand continued to move, wrist rolling expertly. Almost as if he was used to jerking off to the thought of you. Sukuna’s head tipped back as he pictured you on your knees, lips glossy with his cum and body eager to please him. Oh, you'd look so pretty with your tits pressed together as you sat their obediently.

The chair creaked once he started rutting into his hand frantically. His hips jerked once, then again as his orgasm hit him. It hit him hard. It was messy and the waves of shame hit him at the same time ropes of thick cum coated his fingers and the insides of his sweats. 

Uneven pants filled that small office, and Sukuna finally withdrew his fingers and wiped them clean with a nearby rag he kept nearby. He could feel his heart hammering in his throat, and he actively avoided looking down at the mess he made inside of his sweats. 

Maybe Sukuna felt ashamed. He definitely should have. But there was no way in hell Sukuna would ever stop thinking about you. 

═══════★

You should have gone home and showered there like you usually did. But the tension between you and Sukuna exactly two days later had you on edge. You weren’t thinking straight, water bottle empty and chest heaving from overexertion. Your aching feet dragged to the gym showers instead, where you stripped after setting up all of your belongings. That berry-scented body wash just screaming your name. 

Sukuna however, came with other plans. He was thanking the stars that the gym was mostly empty, and there was little to no chance of anyone walking in. Plot armour, one may call it. 

You were in the middle of washing your body, washcloth scrubbing at your chest and getting them all soapy. How odd Sukuna was acting today, you muttered to yourself, recalling how his stare never left you and how his jaw remained tightly clenched. You were almost afraid he’d break a tooth.

The obnoxious creak of the shower-room doors brought you out of your daydreams, and you were glad the curtains concealed you from the eyes of whoever had just walked in. You were thinking to yourself that gosh, they really should oil up the hinges, but the curtains opened. Your eyes landed on a very pent-up Sukuna, whose eyes were shamelessly ogling at your nude body. You merely blinked at him, brain trying to catch up with what was going on.

“So, hey! One person per shower!?” you practically shrieked, backing up when Sukuna entered the shower and shut the curtain behind him. He’s soaking in the sight, clothes becoming drenched as the hot water beat down on both of you. Sukuna’is breath met the steam as he exhaled heavily, finally forcing himself to speak. 

“Gonna tell me to fuck off any time soon? Say something, pretty girl,” he cooed raspily, head cocked slightly to the side as he hunched over you. You could only stare back up at him, blinking away the spray of water. But the way your pussy clenched around nothing told you all you needed to know. You were positive you wanted him, so you gave him a nod. 

That was enough of an invitation for Sukuna to capture your bottom lip with his teeth, sucking it lightly into his mouth as he initiated a kiss under the spraying showerhead. You wanted to kiss back, but everything about Sukuna screamed urgency. You could barely register the fact that he was nipping at your neck, sucking a nipple into his mouth as his greedy hands pawed at every inch of skin you had to offer. 

“R-ryo, please wait-”

“No waiting. Don’t you dare tell me to wait,” he gritted out, sinking onto the tiles and using his hands to maneuver you around so that your rear was in his face. You winced at the sensation of the cold tiles your breasts were pressed up against, but you had no time to complain about it when Sukuna used both hands to spread the supple fat of your ass apart. A sharp gasp ripped out of your throat and your head whipped behind you to check.

“What exactly do you think you’re doin-”

He doesn't allow you to finish your sentence. The fiend angled his head, flattened his tongue and licked a fat stripe from your pussy to ass. You shrieked, hands flailing as you tried to grip the tiles unsuccessfully. A sharp swat to your ass served as a reminder to keep quiet, so you slapped a hand over your kiss-bitten lips. Sukuna took this as a chance to grab one of your calves and lifted it to the side, allowing him to groan deeply at the way your pussy spread so nicely for him. The fact that he could do so with such ease had you positively shaking. 

Your foot slipped ever so slightly on the wet tiles, but Sukuna was there to grip you even tighter, digging his fingers into the ample layer of fat over your hip to steady you. He dove back in, mouth hot on the entirety of your cunt as he ate you out like a man possessed. A garbled cry left your lips as you let your hand leave the tile. Sukuna was beyond pleased when you twisted his short hair into your fist and tugged, beginning to practically ride his face. 

“Fucking starving today, y’know?” he huffed in between filthy slurps. “Acting all shy for what, when your body is this fuckin’ slutty. Think I wouldn’t notice, huh?”

He went on and on, pausing to languidly roll his thick tongue over your pulsing clit. Sukuna sucked it into his mouth, nose buried between the crevice of your ass. You couldn’t respond, rendered to stupidity as ragged breaths left your lungs. The only time the man under you pulled away was to spit directly onto your pussy before diving back in. 

“P-pull away, gah, pull away, Ryo. M’gonna-,” you whined before being rudely cut off. Sukuna chokes on a curse at the nickname you have for him, and he wraps his arms around your waist. You’re sitting on his face, spasming with a cry as he begins shaking his head to the best of his ability. He’s a certified munch for a reason, devouring you from the back as you release all over his face with a strangled cry. 

You wiped the water from your face and slumped against the tiles. A kiss was planted against your ass, and then another. 

“Fucking hell. Should have done this sooner. Much sooner,” he muttered as he eventually rose to his feet. Sukuna’s knees ached, but it was worth it. “Pussy tastes sweeter than anything I’ve ever had.”

You managed to focus your eyes on him, face undeniably flushed as you pushed yourself away from the tiles. It did something to you to see Sukuna so pussydrunk and hard in his boxers. Somewhere along the way, he had tossed his shorts aside, which was perfect. His erection was straining against the fabric, and you took that as an invitation to sling an arm over his bulky shoulder. Your other hand slid down his torso, dipping in every curve of muscle it could find. You left his pecs alone, deciding to squeeze them another day. 

“Oh, oh. You want this as much as I do?” he teased before stopping himself from speaking anymore once he saw the look in your hazy eyes. You didn’t want sex. Not today, at least. So you settled on timidly freeing his length from his underwear and brushing your thumb over the flushed tip. The larger man almost moaned aloud when you rested your forehead against his chest and looked down, a soft noise of awe escaping your mouth at how deliciously thick his cock was. All thoughts of covering the stretchmarks on your hips, the thickness of your thighs, all of it… they were long forgotten at that moment. You started stroking his length almost lovingly, and you heard the slight crack in his usually confident voice.

“Hahhh, s-shit. Got a reaaal sweet pair of hands on you, don’t you, pretty girl?” he simpered, raising your head with a hand and affectionately resting his warm forehead against yours. The way Sukuna praised you had you doubling your efforts, wrist twisting as you pumped him earnestly. 

The water kept running, but Sukuna could worry about the bill another day. A chorus of guttural growls left him, strokes growing increasingly slick with his precum. The periodic twitches spurred you on, your eyes lighting up the closer he came to orgasm. Your gaze broke away when Sukuna’s lips pressed against your temple in a feverish manner, aaall the way down until he could claim your lips once more. The slight musky taste of your own slick graced your mouth. You should’ve pulled away, but you enjoyed the way his saliva mixed with yours.

“W-woah, there. Steady, fuck. I’m about to cum-”

One last flick of the wrist and a sweet peck on the cheek was all Sukuna needed to cum all over your fingers with a final grunt of your name. His release was warm, ropes of it shooting up to his abs. The urge to pop your fingers into your mouth grew, but the water washed it away. Neither of you spoke for a minute, trying to gather your wits about the change in dynamic between you. The steam continued to swirl around you both, providing a more intimate cocoon for you to relax in.

“Let me wash you up, yeah? Can’t be going home half-cleaned,” Sukuna murmured after pulling back from your face, trying as gently as he could to wipe the sodden strands of hair off of your face. He’s made a mess of you, but you were a gorgeous mess. One he’d happily devour a million times over. 

“Ah, well. That’s your fault, no? I suppose you should be the one taking responsibility,” you laughed weakly, mild exhaustion setting in. The orgasm combined with the heat of the shower was getting unbearable, and you wanted to leave. Sukuna picked up on this, making quick work of cleaning you both up. 

“Is that so, hm? Let me take you out then. Properly,” he said, followed by a nip at your ear. Large hands rubbed at your skin, thumbing at the curve of your waist. A swat of your hand landed on his chest, but Sukuna didn’t pull away. Oh, he was deathly serious. 

“...Yes, please.”

divider creds - @cursed-carmine

[lizardho]

One of the weird things about growing up me is just the increased lack of social awareness sort of slowly reaching a crescendo in junior high. I remember getting picked on a lot more as I got older and older in elementary school, and the bullying started hitting in a weird way in Jr. High. Like, my knowledge of age-appropriate things had finally capped out and I was just entirely oblivious to the fact I was being picked on. Sometimes people made it easy, like the kid who told me my mom made me wrong, but sometimes it was harder. I do have some interesting memories from that time, though, and a lot of them are centered around a very small group of people who were willing to explain things to me. I remember in 7th grade I met a girl in a math class who was incomprehensibly kind to me. She wanted to be a special ed teacher, her older and younger brothers were both on the autism spectrum, and she was friends with all the emo and goth kids, so she was like the perfect storm of patient kindness and anti-establishment knowledge I needed. I remember one day walking out of math class after a fairly hard quiz, and she said,

“Oh man, that quiz was hard. I could really use a hug.”

An I responded with, “Oh, yeah, a hug would be awesome.” And then we just kinda sat there until I saw the light flick on in her brain, like “Oooh, that’s what her deal is!” and she said “Hey, can I have a hug from you?” and I said, “Yeah!” And gave her a hug, and like, even if I didn’t know what my deal was, she sure as hell did.

In addition to being absurdly kind, she was also EXTREMELY conventionally attractive, good at makeup, funny, and had an insatiable bloodlust for bullies, so she drew a lot of a certain type of people in. I always kinda felt lucky just being her friend because God only knows how I would have lived otherwise. One day we were walking to an assembly and she did a little jog to catch up to me because my confused gay ass always walked SUPER fast, and she got me to slow down so we could talk and that was VERY kind. And because of that, one of the kids in our class who had a HUGE crush on her and didn’t know the next thing about her thought that if he made me look mad enough or dumb enough or something that she’d stop talking to me and start talking to him. So he starts by coming up to me and saying,

“Hey dude, I fucking fingered your sister last night.”

And I am a bonafide grade-a dumbass who Does Not Know What Sex Is so I thought he meant he fingered her for a crime. But my sister was like 5 so I was like “What crime could a 5 year old commit?” so I was like “What do you mean? Like, shoplifting?”

And to his credit, he kinda stopped for a second. Not because he wanted to, but because with all his experience as a bully he had yet to encounter someone quite as earnestly confused as me. After he recovered from what, to him, was a bizarre crazy-person non-sequitur, he said,

“No, dude, I mean I fingered your sister last night.”

And I said, “Dude, she’s like…5, what could you have fingered her for?” And he was doubling down so he goes “Because I fucking wanted to,” with a big cocky smile on his face, which was NOT an answer to my question because I NEEDED to know what crime this dick thought a 5 year old could commit between 6:00 dinner and 8:30 bed time. So I kept asking, “But like, what was the crime? Like what did you finger her for?” and he kept being like “Because I want to” or “Because your sister’s nasty like that,” both of which were wholly insufficient answers. He thought I was ignoring him or stupid, and I thought he was a total moron, and realistically both of us were right.

And the whole time we’re talking about this, she is glaring daggers at him and telling him to Shut The Entire Fuck Up because she knows what he’s saying and she knows I do not and she doesn’t want me to learn like this. And finally, because he thinks she’s doing that thing that girls don’t actually do but that boys THINK they do of feigning being mad to play along and egg me on, he starts looking at her like they’re in cahoots, and she says “Oh my God you sick jerk just leave us ALONE!” and that gets a teacher’s attention. And suddenly he’s red-faced and confused because he thought he was looking like Chad Thundercock the top king stud of all time and realistically he’s looking more like the comedy relief pseudo-bully from an 80s film. And because she yelled at him to leave us alone, a teacher almost immediately comes over to check on what’s going on, and she explains it all in graphic detail and that kid got detention and probably a tension headache from trying to make his brain think good enough to figure out how all this happened. And once it was done she just grabbed my arm by the elbow and said “I’m so sorry about that, come on, let’s just go,” and I said, “Idk why you’re sorry, I don’t even know what’s going on.” And she said, “I know, sweetie, I know. Do me a favor and don’t look it up.” And because I promised her I didn’t end up knowing what fingering was until I was a Sophomore in high school when someone in theater explained it to me and I was retroactively so mad at this kid I almost went blind.

I actually have a LOT of stories about this kind of stuff so if y’all like this I will post more.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog2]

Mydei always treats you like you're his princess—no matter where you are or who’s watching. To him, you're not just someone he loves; you're someone he cherishes, worships, and would go to war for without a second thought. Every time he looks at you, there’s this softness in his golden eyes that nobody else gets to see, like you're the only thing in the world that could ever matter. He opens doors for you, carries your things even when you insist you're strong enough, and always makes sure you’re warm, safe, and comfortable. You never have to ask twice—he’s already on it, already thinking two steps ahead, always treating you like the center of his world.

He watches you like you're made of stars and silk, like even the air should be gentle with you. Whenever you speak, he listens closely, even if you’re just rambling or talking about something silly. And if someone dares to laugh at you or treat you poorly, he doesn’t just get upset—he burns. That terrifying warrior everyone fears becomes your prince in blazing armor, glaring down anyone who even breathes wrong near you. But even with all that power, he’s gentle with you. Always. Like you're something sacred. Like he's scared to break you, even though he knows you're stronger than you look.

Every little thing he does screams devotion. He braids your hair with such care, smoothing the strands with his calloused fingers as if touching something precious. When you’re sad or overwhelmed, he doesn’t rush you to feel better. He just holds you close, pressing you against his bare chest, letting you hear the steady beat of his heart until you feel okay again. And when you’re happy? He lights up like the sun, proud of every smile you give him. He kisses your forehead like it’s a ritual, like he’s sealing a blessing into your skin. You don’t even have to ask him to love you—he just does, over and over, in a thousand quiet ways.

At night, he wraps you in his arms like a protective shield. His big frame curves around you. He murmurs soft things into your hair—how much he loves you, how you’ve changed his world, how he never knew what peace felt like until he had you in his arms. Sometimes he wakes you up just to make sure you're breathing, just to press his forehead against yours and whisper, “Mine. Always mine.” Even in his dreams, he’s holding onto you like he’s scared the world might try to take you away.

To Mydei, you're not just a lover or a partner. You're his entire reason for fighting, for breathing, for being. He sees the way the world looks at you and thinks they don’t even know how lucky they are to witness her. But he knows. And he’ll never take you for granted. In every kiss, every touch, every word, there’s a silent vow: You are my princess. And I will spend every day proving it.

[cerusee]

Straight up the more I contemplate this question the more I feel like this the the only possible response

[natsaffection]

The Weight of you. pt 2 |N.R

Older!Natasha x Younger!Reader

Warnings: AgeGap! (N= 32, R=22), Fluff, Fluff, Fluff 🍀 (for real)

word count: 1,5k

A/n: After my inbox got completely swamped, I decided to post it. It wasn’t planned at first, but some of the comments truly broke my heart, so here it is. I’m not that cruel.

Part 1

Natasha woke up screaming.

Her body jolted upright in the dark, drenched in cold sweat, chest heaving like she’d just surfaced from drowning. Her throat burned. Her mouth was open but no sound came out, just broken gasps and choking silence.

Her hands, trembling, soaked, clawed at the sheets like they could ground her. Her heart thrashed wildly in her ribs, fast and desperate and wrong.

She couldn’t breathe. Her eyes darted around, wild, panicked, searching for rubble, smoke, blood, the street, the stone slab, the blood.

But there was none. Just…darkness. Soft, familiar darkness. The room was quiet. The only sound was the ticking of the little clock on the nightstand. And her own ragged breath.

She looked to her right..and there you were..

Peacefully asleep, curled on your side beneath the duvet. One arm tucked under the pillow, the other resting lightly on your chest. Your lips were parted slightly, lashes fluttering against your cheeks in dreams, the faint rise and fall of your back steady and warm.

Natasha stared at you like she was seeing a ghost. Her hand hovered over you for a moment, scared to touch, to shatter the vision. To wake up again.

Then she reached out, gently, barely brushing her fingers along the curve of your bare shoulder.

Warm and real. Her breath hitched, and broke entirely. Her body folded forward, silent tears spilling down her face as her forehead came to rest against your shoulder blade.

Her arms slowly wrapped around you, pulling you close. Holding you like you might slip away. You shifted slightly at the touch, murmuring something incoherent, but didn’t wake. You just let out a small breath and nestled back into Natasha’s chest, trusting. Unaware of the storm you’d just saved Natasha from without even knowing it.

Natasha buried her face in the crook of your neck. She breathed you in, that scent, the one that always made her shoulders drop, her world soften. Sweet shampoo. Warm skin.

She closed her eyes. Her hand moved to rest over your heart, feeling the rhythm of it beneath her palm.

Alive. Each beat said it. Over and over. Alive. Alive. Alive.

Natasha kissed the back of your shoulder, so softly it was barely there, then tightened her arms around you and didn’t let go.

She wouldn’t sleep again tonight. She didn’t need to. She had everything she needed, right here.

Sunlight crept gently through the cracks in the curtains, casting a golden haze across the bedroom. The kind of quiet morning that felt untouched by the world, too perfect, too still.

But Natasha hadn’t slept. Not really. Not since the nightmare.

She was still wrapped around you like a lifeline, arms coiled tight around your waist, legs tangled, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. Her face was buried in you. Her nose nuzzled against the curve of your neck like she was trying to breathe you into her lungs.

She hadn’t moved all night. Couldn’t. Every time she even thought about letting go, her stomach twisted. But this? This she could do. She could stay here. Wrapped in soft warmth and steady heartbeats.

You stirred a little, groaning softly and trying to roll onto your back. Natasha responded by tightening her arms and snuggling in deeper with a soft, muffled grunt of protest.

“Morninggg…” you mumbled, voice still husky with sleep. “Gotta get up…”

“No.” Natasha whispered into your neck, her voice hoarse from tears. “You’re staying.”

“But-”

Before you could finish, Natasha moved her hand, slow and devilish, slipping her fingers just under the hem of your sleep shirt and giving a light, teasing tickle along your stomach.

You squeaked. “N-Natasha!” you gasped, twisting in the sheets, laughter bubbling out instantly. “No, no-don’t-!”

Natasha smiled. Smiled..It was small, but it reached her eyes. Hearing your laughter again, feeling it against her chest, it cracked something open in her. The tension in her shoulders, the knot in her gut, the ache in her throat…all of it softened in that one sound.

She tickled you again, just enough to keep the giggles coming. You squirmed, half-laughing, half-trying to escape, but Natasha shifted quickly, rolled halfway over you, arm slung around your waist, pinning you gently in place.

You blinked up at her, cheeks flushed and hair a soft mess.

“You’re evil.” you whispered, smiling breathlessly.

Natasha leaned in close, her face just inches away.

“And you’re mine.” she murmured, brushing her nose along yours.

You melted instantly under her, eyes fluttering shut, smiling so wide it made Natasha’s chest ache. Then, without another word, Natasha reached for the sheets, tugging them high above your heads.

The world disappeared into a cocoon of warm cotton and shared breath. You laughed again, soft and breathy, your voice muffled beneath the blanket. “What are you doing?”

“Hiding you.” Natasha whispered. “Keeping you safe.”

You reached up in the dark, fingers finding Natasha’s jaw. “From what?”

“Everything.” Natasha replied.

She kissed you, as if she had all the time in the world and still needed more. You sighed into it, fingers curling in her shirt. When they parted, you were breathless again, but for a different reason.

“You’re acting weird..” you teased softly, but your voice was tender now.

Natasha tucked herself into your neck again, the sheets still wrapped around you like a secret.

“I had a dream.” she admitted. Her voice was almost too quiet.

You didn’t ask what kind. You just turned slightly in her arms, enough to wrap your own around Natasha this time. Your hands stroked slow patterns down her back, anchoring her.

“I’m here.” you whispered.

“I know.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Natasha pressed her face in tighter.

“I won’t let you.”

You lay there for a long time, under the covers, hidden from the world. Two heartbeats. 

“I really have to get up, Nat..” you murmured, voice scratchy but determined. “Meeting at ten, and I need to shower, and-” You started to roll onto your back.

Big mistake..

Before you could even make it halfway out of the blanket burrito, Natasha moved fast and smooth, like it was a mission. With zero warning, she shifted and dropped herself squarely across your chest.

“Oof-!” you gasped, startled breath whooshing out of you. “Natasha!”

“Mmm..” came the response, completely unapologetic and muffled into your collarbone. “You’re warm. And soft. And not allowed to leave this bed.”

You tried to push her off, but it was half-hearted at best, Natasha was dead weight in that familiar way she did when she really didn’t want to move. Like a cat determined to sleep on your face.

“I have to go to workkk..!” you whined softly, threading your fingers through Natasha’s hair anyway.

“No, you don’t.” Natasha murmured. She nosed at the hollow of your neck, brushing her lips there in a way that made your stomach flutter. “Not today.”

“I doooo…”

But Natasha just snuggled deeper.

And without moving off you, she reached a hand out from under the blanket, groping in the direction of the nightstand like she’d trained for this.

“What are you doing?” you asked suspiciously.

Natasha’s fingers curled around the phone. “Saving your coworkers from missing you too much.”

“Natasha-”

Too late. Still under the covers, Natasha brought the phone into your little blanket fort. The glow of the screen lit her face with a mischievous grin. She typed in the passcode, the date you made it official, without even needing to look.

She tapped a few things quickly, thumb gliding over the screen with deadly precision. Your eyes widened when you realized who she was calling.

“Wait-wait! Are you seriously calling my boss?!”

Natasha calmly rolled her body more fully over you, keeping you pinned like a warm, stubborn blanket.

You squirmed. “Natasha! I can’t not show up without calling myself! I-“

“Shhh..” Natasha cooed sweetly, her voice like honey. “Spy things happening.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but then Natasha kissed you. A kiss that said, Breathe. I’ve got this. You’re mine today.

And by the time you could blink, the call was already ringing.

“Hi.” Natasha said, instantly shifting into a smooth, polite voice as someone picked up. “Yes, I’m calling on behalf of Y/n L/n. She’s not feeling well today-no, just a little under the weather. Nothing serious, but she’ll be resting. Thanks so much.”

She hung up. Turned the phone off. Dropped it onto the bed beside you. And then went right back to snuggling into your chest like nothing had happened.

You stared at the ceiling, stunned. “Did you just…call me in sick?”

“Mhm.”

“Impersonating me?”

“Technically.” Natasha murmured sleepily, “I didn’t say I was you. Just that I was calling for you. Very legal. Very charming. Very cuddly.”

“You are ridiculous..” you said, but your voice was already dissolving into laughter.

Natasha smiled against your skin. “You love me.”

You sighed dramatically, threading your fingers through red hair again.

“Yeah..” you whispered. “I really, really do.”

You stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in warmth and soft breaths, the whole world outside the covers irrelevant.

And when Natasha pressed another kiss to your chest and whispered, “Let’s just be still today.” you didn’t argue.

You just pulled the blankets tighter around you both. And stayed.

[explicit-tae]

Repent (4)

There's only one night left of the retreat and Jungkook is way too far into his head for his own good.

Word Count: 6.847

Warning: smut, skinny dipping, dirty talking, kissing, unprotected sex, nipple play/sucking, shower scenes, fingering, oral sex, degradation, bible verses?? lmao, creampie,

Part One | Two | Three

Jungkook finds that he enjoys eating you out.

At first, after the night you and he shared, he was a bit nervous to bring up the request again. He didn’t want you to think that all he ever wanted to do with you was sexual activities. But he’d be a liar if he said that he didn’t enjoy suckling on your clit. He’s gathered that in such a short amount of time, he’s sinned far too many times to count, he didn’t want to add liar onto his list.

There was something about the way Jungkook grew more and more insatiable when it comes to you. Each night you’d come into his cabin and join him beneath his sheets. You’d always say how cute he was and Jungkook would always intend on proving you wrong by eating you out.

The once shy and reserved Jungkook had turned into the being you knew he could be, the confidence he had buried within coming out little by little.

Especially in the way his hands would force your thighs apart as his tongue ravished your clit greedily. He would bob his head back and forth, fully enthralled with the act of eating you out that he never came up for air. 

Maybe it was your moans that gave Jungkook his will. He finds you entirely hot when you moan out his name, your hand tangled in his hair. You enjoyed what he was doing. Your thighs would shake and your face would be drawn with pleasure - it fueled his passion entirely.

However, all good things had to come to an end. It was the last day of the retreat and everyone had since packed to leave the following day.

“So let me get this straight,” Taehyung begins. “you haven’t fucked her yet?” Jungkook groans. He should know better by now then to call his friends for help as they almost never were any.

“You’ve eaten her out at least 50 times already.” Hoseok snorts. “Isn’t the retreat over tomorrow?”

“There isn’t any rush. If her grandmother goes to the same church, you’re bound to see her again.” Namjoon encourages. Jungkook can practically hear the smile in his tone.

“I say you fuck her raw dog and-”

Jungkook hangs up the phone entirely. His issue isn’t with having sex with you because, in all honesty, he’s positive that you’d say yes to him if he brought it up. 

Jungkook had a problem now. In a short amount of time, you’ve come and captivated him entirely in ways that he’s embarrassed. Not because he’s embarrassed of you, but of himself and how fast it took for him to acknowledge that he liked you.

In ways that’s more than just hooking up.

Jungkook isn’t sure if after tonight, would you and him be…friends? Would you go back to your regular life and forget about him entirely? Would you ever visit the church in hopes of seeing him?

Jungkook’s mind races as he makes his way out of his cabin. He has his camera in his hands as it was his job to take pictures for the Church, specifically on the last day of the retreat.

The children are restless, all playing outside. Their youth and obliviousness is nice and he wishes he could be a kid again where everything was easier. There wasn’t sin constantly clouding his mind day by day and a girl who he couldn’t get out of his thoughts.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Jungkook had just entered the large dining hall when he heard a soft voice. It’s Meana, who he only saw in passing the last few days.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook asks, but he’s positive that he knows. He was so caught up in his head that he possibly looked ill, walking around moping at the thought of you leaving the retreat and never speaking to him again.

It was pathetic, truly.

“You look,” Meana tilts her head. “a wreck.” she concludes. She’s holding a bottle of water in her palms. “Is it about Y/N?”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush at the sound of your name and Meana could only smile.

“You like her.” Meana states in a teasing voice. “I think she likes you, too.”

Jungkook’s ears perk a bit. “H-Huh?” he stutters, doe-like eyes widening a bit and dare Meana say she can see them sparkle under the dining halls white lights. “What do you mean? DId she say that to you?”

Meana shakes her head and Jungkook’s shoulders falter.

“But, it’s obvious, right?” Meana shrugs her shoulders. “You and her have been inseparable the last few days.” she states matter-of-factly.

That wasn’t a lie. While you could ignore the stares, Jungkook couldn’t. But he didn’t let them bother him. Being seen with you wasn’t something he was ashamed of. You were seen as the rebelling type who wore too tight clothing just because you wanted to spite whoever was watching. People held their tongue because of their love and respect for your grandmother, not for you.

Meana, however, finds it endearing how close you and Jungkook are. While she hadn’t spoken to Jungkook often since the kiss in his bedroom, she and you had. You had come to apologize to her if you made her uncomfortable and Meana had told you that everything was alright. Sure, her heart did pound around you and her cheeks would warm, but it wasn’t anything that was your fault.

“I’ll even say that you two look like a couple.” Meana teases further, knowing that Jungkook’s face would turn a dark shade of red, and when it does she couldn’t help her laughter. 

“I…I don’t even know if she wants to see me after the retreat.” Jungkook admits sullenly. “She doesn’t come to church-”

“Why don’t you just ask for her number?”

Jungkook is silent. He hadn’t thought about that. The more he thinks about it, maybe he has been quite dramatic.

“But what if-”

“You’re trapping yourself behind bars that are wide enough for you to walk through.” Meana deadpans.

Jungkook could laugh. Meana, after this retreat, has changed a bit, as well. She wasn’t as shy as she once was and he ponders if maybe you being around her has rubbed off like it did him.

“She hasn’t said anything to me about after the retreat.”

Meana shrugs her shoulders. She opens her water bottle. “Maybe she’s waiting for you to say something.” she says prior to taking a swig of it. “Do you ever think she’s tired of making the first move on you?”

Jungkook blinks. 

“No, you haven’t.” Meana giggles. “Because you’re caging yourself behind those too wide bars and allowing your own insecurities-”

“When did you become a therapist?” Jungkook crosses his arms. He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips. “I don’t remember you being this logical before.”

Jungkook knows that Meana is right, however. You had shown him time and time again that you were interested in him. Maybe not for something further than a friendship, but you were definitely interested in something.

Jungkook finds you sitting outside with a group of kids. They’re all talking at once, far too excited about something and you’re too nice to tell them to calm down and talk one at a time. Your eyes dance around the children as each of them talk and Jungkook finds it endearing.

Jungkook brings his camera up to take a picture of the sight. You only notice when the flash goes off, your attention turning to Jungkook. He lowers his camera and offers you a small smile that you return - one that causes his heart to jolt again.

Don’t be stupid, Jungkook thinks to himself. He thinks of what his friends told him. What Meana told him, but even now all he can focus on is how idiotic it is liking someone you met recently. There was no way in H E double hockey sticks that you liked him in the same way. 

Maybe Jungkook would have more faith in himself if he would just think Hell instead of H E double hockey sticks.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Jungkook blinks a few times to look down at a small child with folded arms. He raises his brows as the boy glares at him.

“Uh, what?” Jungkook nervously laughs, glancing up at you. You’re now standing.

“I already said I was going to marry her.” the little boy points his finger at Jungkook. “So you can’t have her!”

Jungkook blinks. “You’re like 6.”

“I’m 7 and a half!” 

“You’re too young for marriage.” Jungkook wants to slap himself for entertaining a child anyways. 

“And you’re getting too old!”

“I’m not even 30 yet!” Jungkook exclaims.

Jungkook is dragged out of his glaring match with the child when he hears you laugh. A hand is placed onto his bicep and his attention is immediately on you. His shoulders relax a bit. 

“You can’t fight the children, Kookie.” you joke.

“I-I’m not!” Jungkook’s cheeks return to their warm reddened color. 

After offering the young boy a pat on the head, you venture off with Jungkook. Since it was the last day, people decided on cleaning up, packing and eventually just hanging out until the following day. 

“Did you enjoy your time on the retreat?” Jungkook asks after a long stretch of silence. You and him had gone for a walk not too far from the cabins. 

“Of course I did.” you answer. “Dare I even say I had fun.”

Jungkook allows himself  to smile. “I’m glad,” he murmurs.

Your eyes wander to him for a moment, lingering on his face. You believe he has more to say, though you don’t press him on the matter.

“What do you do, uh, outside of all of this?” Jungkook chuckles nervously. He’s sure that after tomorrow, he won’t be seeing you at Church.

You pretend to think long and hard about his question before answering. “I suppose what normal people our age do?” you shrug your shoulders. “I work often, but I have hobbies. What do you do?”

You stop walking to face Jungkook. He does the same.

“I have hobbies, too.” Jungkook murmurs, cheeks dusting pink. He isn’t sure what to say. He’s an open book. You know he attends the church just as often as your grandmother and he’s highly reserved with non-reserved friends encouraging him to, in words his parents would tell him, sin. “I, uh, enjoy drawing as you know. Painting. I go wherever my friends drag me.”

You hum,  lips twitching upwards. “Where do they drag you?”

Jungkook blinks. Were you actually interested in what he was saying?

“Uh, depends. Museums for some, arcades for others.” Jungkook swallows. “I’ve been dragged to clubs a few times, too.”

“Church boy Kookie in a club?” you pretend to be shocked, placing a hand over your mouth. You laugh mere seconds afterwards. “That’s a sight I’d have to see.”

Jungkook and you were far too consumed with one another that neither of you noticed how side by side you two were. You returned back to the cabins for dinner, him listening to you talk to Meana about a TV show he hadn’t heard before, but seems highly entertaining in “girl world” he likes to put it.

The young boy returned, glaring eyes at Jungkook before staring at you with such heart eyes that Jungkook would be threatened if the child wasn’t exactly that, a child. You were convinced by him and more children to do s’mores - an activity that you dragged Jungkook to, much to the little boy's dismay.

Even as the moon shone high above the dark sky, clear of any stars or clouds, Jungkook and you find yourselves by the lake. It’s quiet out as everyone had retreated to bed while you and him went for yet another walk. 

You find that Jungkook is talented in a lot of things. You already know how amazing he was at drawing. His photography skills, as well. He showed you the pictures on his camera that he’s taken - of the children all playing, Church goers. He even showed you some of his friends that appear high-quality and magazines like that you had to compliment him on how amazing it was.

“You’re not very spontaneous, are you?” you asked. You and Jungkook sit on the dock, your feet swinging back and forth at the edge right above the lake. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “No.” he admits. “Everything we’ve done,” he begins, that cute blush on his cheeks as he recalls the moments he and you shared. “is all a first to me.”

Jungkook and you had two different ideas of spontaneity, he’s sure. You offering him a blow job out in the open had to be by far his favorite - he couldn’t remember the last time adrenaline flowed through him like that.

You lick your lips. “The fun shouldn’t stop now, right?”

“What do you mean?”

You don’t answer and instead proceed to lift your shirt over your head. You throw it aside. “You ever gone skinny dipping?”

Widening his eyes, Jungkook shakes his head. You lift yourself up to take off your pants next, your panties going right along with it.

“Y-You’re serious?” Jungkook murmurs, looking around as if anyone is watching. You’re not too far from the cabins, but no one ever comes down to the lake at night.

You’re naked and Jungkook, no matter how many times he was blessed by the heavens above to witness you in such a state, he finds his eyes wandering to your nude figure. 

“You know I am, Kookie.” you offer him a wink. “It’s our last night here. We mind as well make the most of it.”

You don’t wait for Jungkook to respond. Instead, you jump into the lake. Water splashes his shirt a bit as he watches you emerge from the water.

Jungkook’s heart pumps as he looks at your smiling face.

Fuck it, Jungkook thinks. He can hear his friends in his mind clear as ever - to not pussy out (in their crude tone).

Jungkook does the same as you, though folding his clothes and placing them neatly beside your discarded ones before diving in right beside you. You laugh, clapping your hands when he comes up from beneath the water.

“10 points to you, church boy Kookie!”

The water is freezing, but Jungkook doesn’t want to look like a coward, so he holds the shivering to a minimum. That, and he does find this whole thing hot - the act of him and you being totally naked while everyone else is oblivious. Was this something spontaneous you did on the regular? 

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” you giggle. His teeth slightly chattered. “I’m cold, too.”

“Just something to get used to.” Jungkook chuckles. He swims a bit closer to you. The edge of the doc wasn’t too far deep into the water and the ground was touchable if he truly wanted to stand. 

You make the first move, but you know fully that Jungkook doesn’t mind. The little that you’ve known him, you know he was now going through an internal battle of if he should touch you or not.

You wrap your legs around Jungkook’s waist, your hands sitting on his broad shoulders. Jungkook’s hands place themselves onto your hips, feeling even more warmer now that you were so close to him. 

“You must really find working out fun.” you state, remembering what he said a few days prior. “You ever thought about getting any tattoos?”

Jungkook nods his head. “Yeah…but my mother would have a heart attack.” he chuckles. 

You hum. “I think you’d look hot.” you murmur, tightening your legs around him. “I was thinking about getting one.”

Jungkook swallows. Your chest sits directly against his and your hands now lightly rub the skin of his shoulders.

“W-What tattoo?” Damn him for stuttering like a school boy. To think that he’s eaten you out more times than he can count, but you still make him so nervous. 

“Hm…dunno.” you shrug your shoulders. “I want a tramp stamp. That’d be hot, right?”

It would be, Jungkook thinks. He only manages to nod his head because he’s positive that if he continued to think about it, he’d moan this time instead of stutter and he was done with embarrassing himself.

“You’re so…” you blink droplets of water from your eyelashes before smirking. “…cute.” you murmur. “You still get so shy around me.”

“I’m not.” Jungkook lies. It was pointless because you knew he was. “I’m just…not used to being around someone like you.”

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Jungkook inhales a breath. “I didn’t know you wanted me to.” 

“Is that so?” you lean in a bit, your cold nose touching his own. “I told you I wanted to fuck you on our first day here.” you murmur.

Jungkook’s ears are red. You had a point, he thinks, but still. You could always change your mind at nay given moment - even if you haven’t already.

Instead of responding, Jungkook places his lips onto yours. The familiar bubble in his stomach, followed by the quickness of his heart beat, Jungkook slightly moans into your lips. His eyes flutter close, his hands bringing you closer against him. 

Kissing you got easier over time, Jungkook thinks, but he cannot help how his body feels afterwards. Even in the cold water, Jungkook can feel his cock begin to throb. 

Your teeth sinks gently onto his bottom lip, tugging it playfully. 

“I intend on having you fuck me still.” 

Jungkook’s eyes flutter open. His hold on you tightens a bit at your words - words that cause his heart to continue to jolt, as well as his cock to throb with need. Just the thought of actually being inside of you.

Without warning, your legs hold onto his tighter, and your arms wrap around his neck. With all your force, you bring your body backwards and underneath the water, bringing Jungkook along with you.

A rush of sensation flows through Jungkook as he and you are enveloped underneath the water. Your legs loosen and so do your arms. You’re pulling away from him, he thinks. He emerges from under the water to hear your bubbly laughter. He wipes his eyes, blinking them a few times to look at you.

“Was that a trick?” 

Jungkook’s tone is playful, you note. You don’t have enough time to process before he’a coming for you. He dips underneath the water. It’s silent for a moment, your head dashing around in an attempt to find him underwater.

A loud screech comes from your lips when hands wrap around your frame and throws you underneath the cold water along with him. You don’t process the rushing of water before you’re being brought up above it once more.

Jungkook is behind you, your back against his chest. Your breathing is heavy when he wraps you in a hug. 

“Church boy Kookie,” you begin, breathing with each passing word. “you’re coming out of your shell nicely.”

Jungkook doesn’t mean for you to feel his cock against your ass, it just happens. Maybe by the way you squirm in his embrace to further tease him. 

“I still want to fuck you.”

Jungkook’s lips are at your ear, warm breath tickling it. You’re already cold, but the way he speaks to you causes the exposed skin to prickle with excited goosebumps. 

“You have such a dirty mouth.”

Jungkook swallows. Dirty talk, he thinks - his friends' words flowing through his mind. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment right now, one that he admits is entirely hot. 

Jungkook places his lips at the nape of your neck, pressing several kisses. His hands roam upwards until they’re at your breast. He grips them in his hands needily, inhaling sharply against your neck.

“You love my dirty mouth.” Jungkook murmurs against your neck, his kisses now pecking upwards until he’s at your ear. “It’s what brings you back to me time and time again.”

Jungkook’s own confidence in his voice surprised even himself. 

“You’re right.” you murmur, eyes fluttering close.

It was a blur getting out of the water and dressing for the sake of returning back to the cabins. You and him had to be quiet as you entered the showers. You assure to lock the doors behind you as Jungkook makes his way to the nearest shower he finds. 

You and him are naked once more, underneath hot steamy water. Jungkook’s arms are around you again, bringing you closer as you and his lips lock together.

Doing all of this has his heart pounding even faster with adrenaline. 

“You okay?” you say against his lips, hands lightly tapping his shoulders as you make them down his wet arms. “I don’t want to overwhelm you with beginner level spontaneity.” 

Jungkook chuckles. His hands are on the low of your back. “I’m fine.” he murmurs. “Just…wanna touch you.”

You hum. “I’m not holding you back.”

Jungkook, no matter how many times he’s managed to touch you, always feels as if it’s the first time. His hands grip your breast once more, inhaling a sharp breath when his palms feel the way your nipples are so hardened. 

“You’re very beautiful, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs, voice nearly inaudible due to the loud shower hitting against your bodies and the tiled floors. “Sometimes I think this is all a dream and I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone…”

Jungkook’s thumbs press against your perky nipples, rubbing slightly. His cock is throbbing against your thigh, wishing that he'll hurry up and do what you want him to do.

You find Jungkook’s words endearingly poetic - it’s as though he believes that after tonight, you’d disappear into thin air; like a figment of his imagination. 

You didn’t laugh because you truly did find his words endearing. Your heart pumps once those words hit your ears, your already warm body heating up even more. His thumbs twirl your nipples, wet eyelashes blinking up to look at you.

“You’re acting like I’m going to disappear after all of this is over.” you lick your lip as Jungkook comes closer, pressing a kiss to your neck as his hands knead your breast.

“Are you?”

Jungkook told himself that he wouldn’t ask you this question. He doesn’t want to appear as if he’s too interested in you - even though he absolutely is. He’s positive that you know he is. But he understands that you and him are entirely different and for you, this is possibly just an act of spontaneity. 

Jungkook isn’t expecting you to respond so before you could - and possibly break his heart when you told him that you indeed weren’t going to stick around - his tongue strokes along your neck. His right hand roams down from your breast and past your stomach and right between your legs.

Your lips part to release a light gasp when his fingers are on your clit. He rubs them gently, his tongue continuing to swirl on your neck. You were beginning to like the confident side of Jungkook when he didn’t allow his mind to race a mile a minute.

Jungkook’s lips dipped further as his fingers continued to rub along your clit. He still cannot fathom how he managed to be entangled with someone like you - how you even managed to want to be around him. You didn’t mind that he was a bit inexperienced and shy and you were always willing to go easy on him.

If you called the way you came onto him time and time again “easy” - but Jungkook never complained or told you to stop.

Jungkook captures your nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirls on the perky bud, droplets of shower water falling  into his face. His finger inches closer to your hole, wanting to sink them into you. The last few days, he has managed to gain a bit of an idea of what it was like to pleasure you - and each moment he could, he would. If that meant eating you out until you were begging him to stop, then so be it. Fingering you until your legs were shaking and you were making a mess all over his bedsheets, it was completely alright.

Once it was all done, your favorite thing to (think, not say) was how cute Jungkook was at seemingly learning new things that excite him.

“You’re getting better at this.” you lean your head back a bit when Jungkook’s fingers begin to enter you. Your thighs part wider, fully willing to take him.

Jungkook pops your nipple from his mouth, boba-like eyes looking up at you. He doesn’t say anything, but your compliment gets to his head. He begins to pump his fingers and keeps a close eye on you for your reaction. He finds that he enjoys watching you - was that creepy? He enjoys witnessing your face be drawn with pleasure by something he was doing. Your words of encouragement were always welcomed, as well, and it actually made him feel good.

“Are you?” Jungkook repeats his question from earlier, picking up the speed of his thrusting fingers. He comes closer to your face now, shielding the water from yours as it now slides down the back of his head. “Are you going to disappear when it’s all over?”

You squeeze around his fingers, damp lashes blinking away. There isn’t a way Jungkook was going to allow you to not answer his question - or at least think about it. His free hand places on the low of your back, sliding you closer to him. 

“You can always-” you begin but halt when you feel his lips on yours. It’s full of hot need that has you shuddering in them. You wanted to mount him right now more than ever. “-can…always call me.” you finish when his lips lift for air.

Jungkook’s heart jolts again - that meant that you were interested in being friends, right? That after tonight, you and he would keep in touch and he had a chance with you - whatever chance you were willing to give him.

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek. In the words of his dear friend Hoseok told to him before, he had to lock in. He couldn’t scare you away like he had his ex-girlfriend. He would take you in whatever way you wanted him to if it meant that you’d come around again.

The shower didn’t last long. You couldn’t wait any longer and neither could he. After bathing the quickest either of you ever had - mainly because the once hot water that was burning your skin was now running cool - you and he had to sneak back to his room. You were thankful that it was nearly secluded from the rest.

You nustle underneath the covers along with Jungkook, immediately wrapping yourself onto him. You didn’t want to wait any longer - a week was long enough in your eyes. You wouldn't say you were the one to constantly sleep around, but if you saw something - or someone - you wanted, you were determined to have it. 

“What’s your number?” Jungkook blurts out when you nestle on top of him. You only got dressed enough to walk from the showers to his bedroom and immediately stripped down upon entering. 

You snicker. “Can’t we exchange numbers tomorrow?” you say, running your hands up his stomach, his damp shirt nearly sticking to his skin. 

“What if you forget?” 

You pressed yourself further against him. His growing bulge was evident, but his face was sternly cute. 

“Fine,” you let out a short breath, a smile on your lips. “852-0085.” you speak.

Your roaming hands are able to lift the shirt from his shoulders and throw it aside. You then lean down to press your lips onto his collar bone.

“You’re s-still missing the first two numbers!” Jungkook protests, though his voice softens with how good your lips feel against his flushed skin. 

“That makes it fun.” you say as you peck his chest. Your eyes flicker up to Jungkook to find that he’s already looking down at you. 

Jungkook’s chest rumbles a bit, but he doesn’t fight. He can see the glint of mischief in your eyes - this was a game to you. A game he was willing to play; unbeknownst to you he was always the competitive type.

You’re going lower and lower, sliding off of his lap to nestle between his legs. Your fingers hook on his underwear, the hard bulge making it no secret how content he was.

“I feel bad that you’ve eaten me out so many times the last few days.” you say, eyes glancing down to his cock. It’s as if in slow motion does it spring from his underwear, veiny and pink with oozing pre-cum. You lick your lips before glancing up at Jungkook. “I’ve been neglecting you.”

Jungkook bites his lip, eyes unblinking. You wrap a hand around his cock and squeeze it. “N-No, it’s fine!” he assures quickly, swallowing a lump in his throat. The cum leaking out his tip was embarrassing - you hadn’t even done anything yet.  “I like…I like eating you out.” he admits, his cheeks heating up as blood rushes to his cheeks. “I enjoy making you cum, too.”

You want to say it. The urge to call him cute is at the tip of his tongue, but you understand Jungkook doesn’t like to be called that during situations like these. Instead, you poke your tongue out and lick along his slit.

If it’s one thing you did enjoy was watching Jungkook when he was on the receiving end of pleasure. He was so handsome for his own good and you should thank his parents for raising him to be so humble and kind.

And completely deserving of your interest.

Your tongue continues to roll on his tip, the salty taste of cum hits your taste buds. Your eyes continue to watch his face - the way his eyes flutter close and rosy lips part. His chest rises and falls and in the corner of your eye you see his hands grip the sheets. 

A low groan comes from Jungkook’s lips when you bring his cock deeper into your warm mouth. He nearly forgets how good you were at this. The first time it happened, it was hard to forget about it - so much so that he would have to force himself to think of something else so he wouldn’t get an erection while he was out in his room.

Jungkook proceeds to squeeze his eyes shut as your sucking increased. His knuckles had to be a pale white now with how hard he was gripping the cotton sheets. His breathing is ragged and he’s doing everything to not whimper aloud and appear like a loser - but it was hard. 

You blink a few times to rid yourself of the glossiness. Your head rises and falls, each time his tip hitting the back of your throat. Your hands rest on his tone thighs, tapping on them ever so softly just to continue to play with him.

“You’re so g-good at this.” Jungkook’s cheeks are a bright red at how weak his voice sounds. He’s added points to his mental score with how well he was doing at not sounding or appearing like a complete loser the last few days, and now - after whimpering - his points were erased.

Your throat vibrates as to answer him. There’s a pounding between your legs. Jungkook is so vulnerable right now, you think, caught in his own bliss. The amount of times you’d thought of this very cock splitting you open in a way you know he can if he’d just let loose.

Maybe you just had to bring it out of him.

You pop Jungkook’s cock from your mouth. Messily, saliva coats his thigh and a bit of your chest, but sex isn’t always clean.

Before Jungkook has time to react, you’re in his lap, again.

“Y/N-”

Jungkook doesn’t manage to speak before you’re sinking down on him. His eyes widen at the feel of your warm cunt gripping around his cock. So wet and tight - Jungkook ponders if he’s somehow managed to die and has gone to heaven.

Jungkook snaps out of his hallucination to place his hands onto your hips. “I-I-” he begins, cheeks becoming warm as he glances down to where you and he are connected fully. “-are we not supposed to wear a condom?” he questions low. 

Jungkook doesn’t even have a condom, he then remembers. This was a church retreat, after all. The more he remembered where he was at and what he was doing, the more he thought about how long he was going to have to pray for forgiveness.

“Don’t have any.” you murmur - uncaring - soft hands on his shoulders. You push him back a bit. “I’m on birth control.”

Jungkook’s chest continues to rise and fall rapidly as goosebumps form onto his skin.

“Is that okay?” your hips rise just to fall once more, knowing full and well that Jungkook wasn’t going to push you away.

Jungkook gasps. His fingernails dig into your skin. “Yes,” he says hastily. “it’s ok-kay.”

“Good.”

The smile you give Jungkook is so wholesome.

That’s until you begin to drop the sweet girl act and use Jungkook’s cock - the same cock you’ve wanted inside you since the very first day - to your advantage.

You buckle your hips, pouncing against him with little care. His cock is so deep, springing in and out of you heavenly. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, has a hard time handling this. Your pussy is too tight for him to not moan beneath you. It’s too wet for him to not want to feel more and more of it as you bounce against him. But he understands that even though his room is further than everyone else's, that didn’t mean it was sound proof.

“Slow,” Jungkook begins, gripping your waist. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes to witness your bouncing breast right in his face. “-down,” Jungkook manages to let out. 

“Your cock feels so good, Kookie.” you moan, leaning closer to him so that you and him are face to face and now chest to chest. 

Jungkook shudders. His right hand slides up your back, wanting to hold you closer to him. “I don’t want us to get caught.” he moans. He wanted  to savor this moment - and everything else after this. Getting caught wasn’t an option for him. “Your pussy feels good, too.”

Church boy Kookie and his dirty words had gotten better over the last few days - you had to give yourself a pat on the back for making him comfortable enough. His hushed tone added to the affect, your walls tightening around his cock more.

“Remember what you said the other day?” you ask, grinding your hips as your lips peck the corner of his mouth. “That you thought about the ways you wanted to fuck me?”

Jungkook nods his head. His hand has a mind of its own so while his right is on the low of your back, his left dips down to feel your ass in his palm.

“Tonight,” you begin, pecking his lips. “I’ll be mild. Next time I want you to fuck me in whatever way you want.”

You were going to be the death of him, Jungkook thinks. Something in his mind - so small and deep - tells him that this was wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this with you during a church retreat out of all places, but his desire for you outweighs whatever discernment he has.

“However I want?” Jungkook couldn’t help but ask. He’s prayed about it before, asking for forgiveness for thinking about you so disrespectfully as what he wanted to do to you was anything but holy.

You nod your head, picking up the pace. You lean away from him, both of your feet laying against his bed as you begin to pounce. Up and down, up and down - Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes away from your body. Your wet cunt dripping with arousal all over him to the way your breast bounces in similar rhythm.

“Whatever dirty fantasies you keep hidden in your mind,  I’d  let you do to me.” you look right into his eyes as you speak, casting a spell upon him that Jungkook is fixed on you and you alone.

“Fuck.” Jungkook lets out, his stomach tightening at just the thought of being able to do whatever he wants with you - unholy acts that he was told were bad for the majority of his life. Adrenaline flows through him and without thinking, his hips begin to buckle to meet you halfway. “You’re…you’re such…”

You moan when Jungkook begins to thrust along with you, his cock hitting you even deeper. You were unlocking something in him you knew he possessed.

“...such a whore I’ve been told about all my life.”

Did you have a degradation kink, you think? The way your pussy tightens around his cock at being called a whore by Jungkook - the once soft spoken man who would apologize for even looking at you the wrong way. Now, his eyes are dark and unapologetic, his hips buckling to bury his cock deeper into you.

“Flee from sexual immorality,” Jungkook recants the verse he’s been told time and time again for years. “Every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the seuxally immoral person sins against his own body.”

Maybe you were a whore. Why did that make you even hornier?

“Ever since you come into my life, all I can think about is fucking you.” Jungkook admits, his eyes glaring at you - but not because he hates that you brought a side out of him that he has buried deep within. “All I ever want to do is bury my face between your legs and taste your sweet pussy against my tongue.”

You’re left speechless - since when could he speak this dirty? You hadn’t noticed that you stopped bouncing and allowed Jungkook to take control until the room grew louder with skin slapping.

“You don’t know how hard it is to keep these thoughts about you out of my mind. Praying them away doesn’t work.”

Jungkook feels a shiver down his spine as he continues to thrust, nails digging into your skin. 

“The best way to get rid of the thoughts is to speak of them aloud.” you murmur, managing to hold his gaze. His cock is drilling into you in a pace that only someone like him - who finds the gym and exercising fun - could do.

“I don’t think you want to hear them.” Jungkook murmurs, his own eyes unblinking. He swallows as there’s now a churn in abdomen. “I still respect you, Y/N.”

It’s amazing how Jungkook can switch entirely, from being the church boy you know to the hot, degrading man who he traps away.

“Get up,” Jungkook rasps. “I don’t want to cum-”

“Just cum in me.” you state, tightening your thighs to keep him trapped between you. You proceed to wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close. “I want to feel it.”

Jungkook shudders once more. His eyes squeeze shut as his cock ruts in and out of you, hitting a sweet spot that causes you to moan with each thrust. He wasn’t going to last long and by the way you’re whimpering, neither were you.

With a few more desperate thrusts, warm cum fills you entirely. Jungkook’s thighs shake as he covers your wet walls with sticky cum, the feeling entirely euphoric that there’s no way that he hasn’t died and gone to heaven already.

You hum softly, the feeling of being full of him causes warmth to fill your body. You lay limp against him, your chest against his.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks a few moments later as his cock begins to soften. “I don’t think you’re a whore.”

You laugh when you hear the hesitance in his voice. You roll off of him and lay beside him. “I know you don’t.” you murmur. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook blinks a few times before nodding his head. 

“You sure?” you ask, turning to face him. “Doesn’t this, like, go against whatever you believe in?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. “Well,” he begins, a bit amused. “I’ve sinned since the first day I got here. I prayed after every time.”

You laugh aloud, wrapping an arm around him.

“I hope we weren’t too loud.” Jungkook does the same, holding you close. He isn’t sure he can handle the judgmental stares from everyone if they knew what was going on. “Are you going to give me the first two digits of your number now?”

You close your eyes and yawn. “Not a chance.” 

Jungkook cracks a smile, he isn’t upset. He enjoyed a good game - even if it meant calling dozens of phone numbers if it meant that he would eventually find yours.

@investedreader @luvbug089 @azaood @smoljimjim @hoseokteardrop @sappy033 @renassaincesblog @myjungkookthighs @sweetlifeofjoy @iheeafkp @emmie2308

[22ayla21]

The Lion Without Underwear

When an innocent visit to Leona turns into a face-to-face encounter with the completely naked "king of the savanna," his poor girlfriend is about to experience the most awkward moment of her life.

Leona's room was an exact reflection of his nature: relaxed, cozy, and with a creative mess. A light scent of sand and spices hung in the air, and the sun sleepily filtered through the half-drawn curtains. In this lazy atmosphere, our "kitty" was sleeping peacefully, as befits a lion at midday — sprawled across the entire bed, his arms and legs carelessly flung out.

And — as usual — in his underwear.

Well... he usually slept in his underwear. But today, apparently, he decided that was for the weak.

Today, Leona was sleeping completely naked, covered only by a light sheet.

The girl, in her kind habit, decided to visit him. Everything was going according to plan: she wanted to wake him up, maybe take him for a walk, or just sit beside him.

And she was sure she would find her lazy "kitten" in his usual briefs.

She quietly entered, tiptoed to the bed, and smiled, seeing his peaceful sleep.

"Leona-a..." she purred, leaning over him. "My sleeping beast..."

In response — nothing. He only sleepily twitched his tail, which hung over the edge of the bed and swung lazily in the air.

Smiling at her mischief, she gently pulled the edge of the sheet to wake him up — just a little, so he would stir and grumble in discontent...

But a second later, the realization of the catastrophe dawned on her.

The sheet slipped off... And she saw... Everything.

Absolutely everything.

No underwear. No protection for her innocent eyes. There was only... Him.

In all his primal glory.

For a moment, silence hung in the room. In her head, it seemed a small apocalypse had occurred.

Her eyes widened so much they could probably be seen from the other end of campus. And then a scream erupted.

The shriek was so piercing that even the birds outside the window fluttered from the branches.

Leona, naturally, woke up. Instantly.

"W-what's wrong?!" he mumbled sleepily, sitting up abruptly and instinctively pulling the sheet back over himself. He hadn't fully grasped what was happening when the nearest heavy object — his own pillow — flew in his direction.

"Idiot! Pervert! Lecherous degenerate!" she yelled, showering him with accusations and gesturing furiously, as if exorcising an evil spirit.

"Hey, take it easy, I was sleeping!" he protested, dodging the pillow and the slipper that followed. "This is my room, after all! What did you expect to see? A prince on a white horse in armored briefs?!"

"I expected at least basic civility! At least some underwear, Leona!!"

Her face was burning with anger, and not only her cheeks were red — even her ears were glowing crimson.

And the worst part — she involuntarily assessed.

Oh yes, she assessed. The size.

And — damn the Great Seven — the size was very, very... impressive.

Not that she was staring on purpose! No! She was an innocent girl! She just had excellent eyesight... And it was almost like — a punch to the gut!

"Uh..." Leona drawled, finally realizing what the matter was. A bruise was already forming on his head from the flying slipper.

"Don't look at me like that!" she shrieked, covering her face with her hands as if that could erase what she had seen from her memory. "It's just inhumane!"

Leona, instead of apologizing as he should, merely snorted, clearly enjoying the situation:

"Hmm. So, impressed, were we?"

"NO, I WAS NOT!" she yelled, but her crimson face said otherwise.

He slowly stretched, rubbing his bruised head, and smirked lazily:

"Well, since that's the case... maybe you should now compensate for the moral damage? Hug a lion, for example?"

"ARE YOU COMPLETELY OUT OF YOUR MIND?!"

"...Or maybe take another look?" he continued casually, stretching in a way that the sheet once again slid treacherously off his hip.

The second scream was even louder than the first.

"I'LL KILL YOU!!!" she roared, bolting out of the room.

Leona collapsed back onto the bed, laughing and burying his face in the pillow. His shoulders shook with laughter, his tail lazily swished across the bed, and mischievous sparks danced in his eyes.

"Ha-ha-ha!" he chuckled to himself. "Well, at least now she knows what kind of lion she got."

And honestly, he wouldn't trade her reaction for even the most well-behaved lady in the kingdom.

[missduskdawn]

i simplified the post on purpose for the sake of teasing you :D

but also! the very first post op made, i'll copy paste it here, and bold the part you apparently didn't read, since you loveeee to say i'm the one pissing on the poor here

'pro-tip: don't ever use the sentence "thousands of years" in your worldbuilding unless you really know what a thousand years is like'

don't ever

so yes, OP did very clearly say to never do x :DDD they opened the entire discussion by making an absolute statement :DDD

anyway, nothing i said was incorrect

ancient egypt is believed to have been unified around 3100 bce, x, and in 332 bce fell under the rule of alexander the great when he invaded it, x

the pandyan empire did start around 6th century bce, x and ended around 1350, (a bit earlier as 1323 is when sri lanka declared independency and that took out the last traces of it, it fell in stages as most empires do)

the roman empire and the byzantine empire are very related i just listed them as separate examples for readability sake, but they're not really separate concepts, did start around 27 bce, x, specifically that marks the roman empire under augustus, after the fall of the roman republic, and fall in 1453 with the fall of constaninople, x

the xia dynasty is considered to be the first chinese dynasty, even predating the shang dynasty, but this does depend on historiography ofc x and it ended in 1912 CE when over two millennia of imperial rule ended the republic of china began, x

the zhou dynasty did in fact rule for 790 years, starting in 1046 bce and ending in 256 bce, x

and lastly the silla kingdom, did in fact roughly exist for 992 years, though the starting point is debated whether or not its 57 bce, some historians prefer a later date when referring to it as a single political entity so that could be less, x

i didn't make up dates out of my ass, and to the best of my understanding the sources i've just cited you are reputable sources (if they're not and they're all wrong, then the joke is on me)

now as to the definition of dynasty, it's defined as 'a succession of rulers from the same family or line'

this isn't applicable to everything i listed, mostly just silla as the silla dynasty ruled for several centuries as a unified kingdom of silla, and zhou dynasties, as well as the pandyan dynasty that ruled the pandyan empire for a period of its existence, whereas others were just long lived empires, but i don't think this disproves anything i said about how it's silly to insinuate that you should never create a millennia or multiple millennia long empire in your fiction, or a dynasty of rulers going back that far

pro-tip: don't ever use the sentence "thousands of years" in your worldbuilding unless you really know what a thousand years is like

[heesmiles]

FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE l.hs

೨౿ ⠀  ׅ ⠀   ̇  7k ⸝⸝ . ‌ ׅ ⸺ word count.

pairings 𝜗𝜚 heeseung ៹ fem ! reader ᧁ ; smut ˒ angst ˒ slice of life

warnings ⊹₊ ⋆ smut mdni. reader and Heeseung are NOT good people. toxic relationships betrayal runaway bride trope interrupting a wedding. cheating (don't like it don't read it) fist fights unprotected sex (bad) oral male receiving tit fuck mirror sex bathroom sex (multiple times) filthy to be honest ft. Yunjin (le sserafim) and Belle (Kiss of life - this is an old fic btw) heartbroken jay (I'm sorry jay ily) + more I'm probably forgetting about.

in which ୨୧ You shouldn't love him. you were marrying his best friend for gods sake, but you couldn't help your feelings and on what's supposed to be the best day of your life it became clear that Heeseung couldn't help his feelings either.

★ ! rain's mic is on ⋆ ͘ . GUYSSSS I FINALLY FOUND THIS!!!!!!!! this is from my old account!! I'm reposting it! This was when I first started posting on blr so be kind to the writing, it's terrible. but I love this fic and I don't know why.

You shouldn't be doing this. It was terrible, it was wrong, it was so so wrong. How could something so exceptionally good be so erroneous. You couldn't help it, truly. Heeseung was your kryptonite and he knew it. In fact he was rather smug with the fact.

He currently had you bent over the vanity in the run down bathroom at the very venue you were meant to get married in as soon as tomorrow. This was your fucking rehearsal dinner and here you were fucking the best man, who is also your husband to-be's best friend. You were a terrible person doing a terribly impermissible thing. Something Jay would hate you both for, rightfully so.

Still the desire you felt in your veins for Heeseung was simply inextinguishable. The heat of your love burned too brightly to be put out. No matter how many times you had tried to stop whatever this was you couldn't. You always found yourself back together, him deep inside you for hours on end in the most outlandish of places. Bathrooms, cars, dressing rooms, closets. Anywhere you could get your hands on each other you did.

It started a random night when you and Jay had a big fight. Thinking your relationship was over you drowned your sorrows at the local pub near your house. Somewhere Heeseung had apparently frequented after stressful days of work. One thing lead to another and you ended up in the bathroom together, then you ended up in his bed for hours you were tangled up in one another not thinking of the repercussions of your more then distasteful actions.

The morning after when you woke up with a pounding headache and a memory that had made you sick to your stomach you cried for what seemed like days. Jay had called you apologizing near tears as he assumed you were cooling off at your best friend Yunjin's house. You and Heeseung swore that it was brief lapse in judgement and that it would never happen again, it would become something you took to your grave.

Until it happened again, and again, and again. Every chance you got. The sick feeling afterwards never really faded. The guilt of what the two of you were doing eating you up inside. Even then you didn't stop. Heeseung was like a drug, one that consumed your entire being.

You found yourself thinking about him at almost all waking moments. Even when Jay and yourself were being intimate you thought of Heeseung and the way he knew your body better than any man you had ever been with, including Jay. How he could get you to cum with a simple lick of his tongue on your clit. He was the best lover you've ever took to your bed. On top of all that he was the best friend you could dream of having.

While you had a more than stellar sex life with Heeseung you also had an amazing friendship, speaking until all hours of the night about any and everything. The conversations never grew awkward the moments never growing stale. Soon you found yourself falling in absolute love with him.

Leaving Jay was something you wouldn't even think about doing, It would hurt him way too much. The man had adored you, he treated you like a princess. You were the least deserving person of his love and yet you were terrified of being without him. What would your family think? Your friends? They would hate you, they would judge you.

Of course you and Heeseung had talked about running away together but it just wasn't feasible at the moment. In all honestly the thought of leaving was something you were running away from. You were too comfortable with your daily life and routine. The thought of starting over scared you. It was hard to admit that the thought slightly excited you too. The thought of being with Heeseung all in. No secrets, no hiding. Free to love each other out in the open, but it wasn't that simple and no one in your life would forgive you for it. No matter how tempting the idea was.

The night that Jay had proposed to you was a bittersweet one. You knew you had loved Jay but you also knew that you weren't in love with him. It hurt you more to admit that to yourself. When he proposed your friends and family were there, including Heeseung. Who had a smile that only you knew was fake on his face. He clapped like everyone else when you accepted but you knew the true turmoil circling in his head.

That was more than evident when he later pushed you into the bathroom of the fancy restaurant. Yanking your panties down and pushing into you in desperation against the wall of the bathroom. He had your throat between his fingers squeezing it like a vice as he muttered words of dominance in your ear. You were begging for him to give you some sort of mercy as his pace was Moree brutal than you had ever seen.

"You're mine" He grunted when he came inside of you for the second time in a row. His lips attached to your tits where you had to yank his head off so he wouldn't leave any marks. Something he was less than pleased about. He inserted his fingers in your heat pushing his leaking cum back into the hole that he had just abused. Ordering you to put your panties back on and walk around with the evidence of him all night.

When you had finally went home that night you faked falling asleep early with the guise of being exhausted from all the excitement of the day. You already felt dirty from having Heeseung's spend in you all night you didn't want to feel worse by sleeping with Jay that same night.

You knew how all this had sounded, you knew how it looked and still you continued and truthfully you had no intention of stopping.

"You're so sexy" Heeseung grunted from behind you. His thrusts were quick and precise. The wack of his hips against yours furthered the arousal coursing through you. "Taking me so good like a good little wife." His voice was firm as he whispered the words in your ear taunting you.

The white rehearsal dress you were wearing was bunched up around your waist, your panties hastily pushed down your legs for quick and easy access. Heeseung's tie crooked and hair disheveled from the heated make out session you were having only ten minutes ago.

"Hee" You gasped out griping the basin of the sink in your hands. "feels so good" You words were slurred as Heeseung continued his assault on your battered core. His grip on your hips tightening with every thrust and every slam of his hips.

"Yeah?" Heeseung smirked watching your face contort from the pleasure through the mirror in front of you. "Who's making you feel so good baby?" His breathing was heavy the words sounding more breathy than you were sure was intended.

"You" You whispered out, struggling to find the words he was chasing after.

"What was that?" He continued to taunt. His hand snaked around your neck squeezing lightly as he brought your mouth to his, hovering over your lips but not fully connecting them. You whined pushing your face forward in a feeble attempt at connecting your lips with his.

"No no" Heeseung tisked with a coo. "Answer my question baby..who's making you feel so good?" His tongue ghosted the outside of your lips grazing them in a tantalizing way.

"You" You gasped out "You Heeseung" You knew he was looking for his name to fall from your lips. His smirk all the evidence you needed to know that you had reached his target.

"That's right my love" He quickened his pace even faster knocking the air from yours lungs in the process. The thought of someone possibly looking for you had eluded you the moment Heeseung sank inside of you.

"I'm close" You heaved splaying a hand out in front of you on the mirror to better support yourself. "Right there!" You were chanting, your voice high pitched. You had only hoped and prayed that no one was walking past the bathroom at this very moment.

"Right there?" Heeseung cooed slamming his hips into you with one particularly hard thrust.

"Yes, fuck you're deep" Your legs started to tremble from the pleasure struggling to right yourself. Heeseung held you up the support from him more than appreciated because without it you were sure you would crumble to the ground a puddle of yourself.

"I'm going to cum" Heeseung emit's breathily. You pushed your hips back against his in an attempt to further his pleasure. You had a strong inclining it worked when the sound of his breath hitching in his throat was heard from his position behind you.

"Oh fuck, yes. Fuck me back. Just like that" His dirty talk was a catalyst to your orgasm the sound of his deep husky voice moaning in your favor tipping you over the edge of no return. Heeseung followed suit almost immediately after shooting his cum deep inside of you.

Taking a second to catch your breath you cleaned your head against the mirror welcoming the cold of the glass to help cool your heated skin. Heeseung slid out of you with a wince his sensitive cock soft and limp as he tucked it back into his dress pants.

"let me clean you up" Heeseung susurrated. The sex haze fading and the second of guilt that had always passed between you two came and went in a whisper just like it always did. Every time. This time it hit a little harder, the reality of where you were and what was to be happening tomorrow weighing on the both of you like dead weights. Your relationship with Jay wasn't something the two of you discussed often, it was sort of a taboo topic amongst you both. Almost believing that if you don't speak about the horrible thing you two were doing it would make it sudden less harrowing.

Of course that wasn't true and most days the guilt tears you up inside but you endure it, for Heeseung.

Heeseung took a piece of plush toilet paper and cleaned you up carefully like he always did after the two of you finished. He pulled the skirt of your dress down smoothing it out as best as he could as you looked yourself over in the mirror. Your makeup was slightly smudged from the kissing but other than that you had looked perfectly put together.

"Y/n I-" Heeseung's hand snaked around your waist readying himself to turn you around to look at him. He couldn't get the words out before he was being interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. The two of you jumping at the intrusion.

"Y/n?" Yunjin's voice bellowed from outside the door. "The dinner is starting are you ok sweets?"

"Y-yes" You stuttered out "I'll be right out, just nervous. Go save me a seat will you"

"Well of course there is a seat for you! You're the bride" Her cheery voice and the context of her wording had made you cringe. Heeseung as well given that he physical recoiled at the mention of you getting married tomorrow.

"I'll be right out!" You stifled again. You heard Yunjin give you acknowledged confirmation and walk off. The breath you let out was heavy. Looking over at Heeseung who had a detached look on his face, an almost sorrowful look.

"Are you ok?" You asked him, grabbing his face in your hands.

"Uh yeah" He cleared his voice "We should get out there" He ghosted his lips over your forehead breathing in, then setting thee lightest kiss he could to the area.

"You go first, I'll leave a few minutes after you." Heeseung detached himself from you looking at himself in the mirror one more time to check himself over.

You slipped out of the bathroom with ease. Most of the guest were in the dining area of the venue already getting ready for the rehearsal dinner that was to take place. You spotted Yunjin, your best friend and maid of honor sitting next to your other best friend and bridesmaid Belle. The end of the table held two seats. Intended for the bride and groom.

Gulping a big breath of air down you sat down next to Jay who was smiling at you awaiting your arrival.

"Hi" Jay whispered to you as you sat down.

"Hi" You whisper back sending him the hardest smile you could possibly muster. "Sorry, I was in the bathroom."

"Phew" Jay laughed jokingly wiping his forehead "and for a second I thought you fled out the window like a runaway bride" Your eyes widened a blush of embarrassment coating your cheeks. Jay's laugh rang through cutting you right in the gut.

You laughed a long with him not wanting to alarm him. You took his hand in yours squeezing it lightly ass a reassurance to yourself more than it was to him.

Heeseung stumbled into the room looking as proper and poise as he ever did. Your cheeks heated up once again, this time not in embarrassment but in arousal. Squeezing your thighs together to alleviate the want coursing through your veins for the beautiful man that was finally seating himself farther down the table next to a few of the other groomsmen.

You lifted your glass of water to your lips taking a sip to try and calm the ragging fire brewing inside of you, flashes of your earlier actions in the bathroom ceaselessly running rabid in your mind.

"Jenni said that she walked passed the bathroom and heard a women moaning Heeseung's name..sounds like he was getting busy with one of your skank bridesmaids" Yunjin said in a hush voice so that only you, belle and herself could hear it. You chocked on the water you were sipping on eyes widening. Jenni had heard you two? You couldn't have possibly been that loud?

"No way!" Belle squeaked "He's always so closed off.. he never wants to take women home. Trust me I would know, i've tried at least ten times for that man to take me to his bed." Her words had your teeth grating down on each other. That twitch of jealously rearing its ugly head.

It wasn't fair of you to be jealous, you were to be married. But the sheer thought of Belle, or any other woman for that matter in Heeseung's bed had made you sick to your stomach.

"I cant't believe he'd fuck someone here of all places" Yunjin said with a face of disgust. Your eyes wandered over to Heeseung who was in a conversation with Sunghoon. His smile wide as he discussed whatever it was that they were talking about. Your heart pounded in your chest at the mere sight of him happy and laughing away with his friend, for a second just a tiny little split second you imagined what it was like to be getting married to him tomorrow. The sight of you walking down the aisle in your dream dress, your heart racing to the end like it were a finish line and Heeseung was the raining trophy. A true prize to be won.

The sick feeling you felt just a second ago was replaced with butterflies, a burning in your heart that you only felt with him.

Your day dream was abruptly shattered when the sound of a knife on glass was heard around the room. Jay was clinging the wine glass to summon everyone in a toast. Your smile fell for the briefest second before it was forced back. Looking like the cheerful bride you were meant to be.

"I'd love to propose a toast to my beautiful bride-to-be Y/n you've made me the happiest man alive and I can't wait to marry you tomorrow and start my life with you by my side forever." Awe's of adoration rang throughout the room. Everyone taking in your dotting husband-to-be. Your smile was fake, the blush on your face would paint you as an incredible actor.

Your eyes flickered to Heeseung's for only a moment but in that moment you had seen the white sheen of his skin and his look of utter devastation. It had left you confused, and also panicked. You didn't want anyone to see Heeseung's expression and think anything of it.

Jay lifted your chin up with his finger breaking your brief eye contact with Heesseung. He landed a soft kiss to your lips, one you would have swooned over in the early days of your relationship with Jay. The knot in your stomach was wound so tight you felt as if your insides would burst at any moment. Spilling the contents of your affair everywhere.

"I love you" Jay whispered as everyone sat idly by watching what they thought was two people madly in love with one another. If only they knew the storm brewing inside of your head and the gaping hole in your heart the size of Lee Heeseung.

Later that night after the rehearsal dinner you had felt nothing but exhausted ready to get to your hotel room and sleep for the night. Considering what tomorrow was you wanted to get a good nights sleep, it would be a long day after all. Jay was upset that you had to be in different rooms for the night. It was very obvious to you and everyone else what he was intending on doing tonight if you two were to share a room together.

You said goodnight to Jay before beginning your walk to your room that you shared with Yunjin and Belle. When you were close to your room you were just about to open the door before you were being pulled into a maids closet across the hall from your room.

With a muffled screeched you whipped around trying to see who exactly pulled you into this dark fucking space.

"Its me. It's me" You heard Heeseung whisper out grabbing onto your upper arms to settle you.

"Heeseung! You scared the shit out of me!" You whisper yelled at the boy.

"Sorry baby I needed to see you" Heeseung's voice was strained almost like he was holding himself back.

"Are you alright?" You asked him.

"Yeah, yeah I'm ok its just.." He trailed off looking down at the ground almost in embarrassment. "After seeing you and Jay tonight it made me..incredibly territorial."

You arched a brow his way the ghost of a smirk making its way onto your face. 'Yeah?" You cooed toying with the belt loop of his dress pants.

"Wasn't it enough to fuck me right before that?" You were taunting him, riling him in hopes that he would defile you just the way you know he wants to.

"It's never enough" He growled pulling you closer to him by your waist. You were right up against him. His hard won prominent in his pants. It had you breathing heavier by the second, the want for him growing and growing. "I'm addicted to your tight pussy baby" His voice was a low murmur in your ear.

His breath fanning over the shell of your ear sending shivers down your spin. Heeseung grabbed at your asscheek giving it a rough squeeze as he attached his lips to yours with an animistic growl. "Mine" He grunted out. It was incredibly hot to see just how riled up and possessive he was for you. You'd be lying if you said you were absolutely dripping wet right now.

You were still wearing the rehearsal dress you were wearing earlier when he fucked you in the bathroom so grabbing his hand and placing it on your sopping wet underwear was no problem for you at all. "I'm so wet right now" You panted against his mouth as he continued to assault your mouth with his tongue.

"Fuck" He cursed circling his fingers over your covered core. "You are" He nodded at you, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and encasing them whole. He slurred up the juices just from your heat.

"Can I suck you off" You whined already working on getting his pants off and around his ankles.

"Y-yeah" Heeseung stuttered raking his hands through your hair. You dropped to your knees in front of Heeseung pulling his dick out of his pants.

Starting with small little kitten licks to the head Heeseung looked down at you with a dark glint to his orbs. His eyes were full of nothing but unadulterated lust for you. "Don't tease sweetheart..." He whined out yanking your hair just hard enough to show you how serious he was.

Finally deciding to put him out of his misery you attached your mouth to his cock taking him as far as you could bobbing you head up and down at a fast pace that had Heeseung's knees buckling underneath him. The rest that couldn't fit in your mouth you used your hands to please him with working him over like a starving whore.

"Holy-" Heeseung gasped out holding a hand against the wall beside him to stop himself from buckling under the pleasure of your warm, wet mouth. "That's it sweetheart. Can you take me deeper?" His voice was low and gravely a moan slipping out past his labored sentence.

You took his cock deeper in your mouth until you felt the tip hitting the back of your throat, with a gag you released his member to take a quick breath. You attached your mouth to his balls sucking on them as you continued to pump his member in your small hands.

"Fuck" His moans and whines were your driving force to further pleasure him even more.

"Do you want to cum in my mouth Hee?" You asked with a gasp reattaching yourself to his tip awaiting his answer.

"Your- f-fuck" He was struggling to form sentences his gasps and whines taking precedence over structural sense. "Your tits"

You smirked up at him, Tit fucking was a guilty pleasure of Heeseung's any and every chance he got to be wrapped around your tits he took it. If you had a penny for everytime Heeseung ask to cum on your tits you'd be rich. You really should have seen this coming.

You pulled the top of your strapless dress down revealing your perky breast to his hungry and wanting eyes. Heeseung licked his lips reaching his hand out to cup the underside of your boob circling your nipples between his finger and thumb. A low whined escaped your lips at the tweak of his fingers on your sensitive nub.

You took your two breath in your hands and squished them around Heeseung's cock encasing him fully. You started your rigorous movement up and down on him and a continued fast pace. Occasionally you would dip your head to lick the tip that poked out from between your breasts.

"Beautiful" Heeseung moaned "So beautiful baby" His hips stuttered at your movements. You knew he was close based on his labored breathing and the squeeze of his eyes shut. His thrown back against the wall of the closet.

"You close?" You asked shakily, Heeseung nodded his head fast returning his hands to your nipple playing with the nubs once again.

"So close baby" He moaned out "I'm fuck- I'm there" His thighs tensed above you and soon enough his cum was shooting up and all over your exposed cheat painting it white with his spend.

"Fucking hell" Heeseung sighed when you let go of his now soft cock. Giggling you dipped your finger into the cum that still coated your breasts sticking the finger into your mouth as you contained eye contact with the boy.

"God, you're something else" He laughed shaking his head in disbelief of you. Looking around the closet for paper towels to clean you up a comfortable silence fell over the two of you.

"Aren't the guys going to be looking for you?" You asked Heeseung as you wiped your chest clear of Heeseungs cum. You pulled your dress top back over yourself finally covered up once again.

"Nah, They were having a few drinks and I wasn't in the mood to hear Jay gush over you all night like you're his.." He trailed off looking over at you expectantly. You couldn't help but cringe at the suddenly awkward feeling in the room.

"Well..technically I am his Hee" It was a hard pill to swallow. One that Heeseung obviously didn't like the taste off very well.

"what if you weren't?" Heeseung asked grabbing your hands in his. "What if you didn't get married tomorrow" Never has he been so brazen about you leaving Jay. Sure, the two of you had discussed it many times and all times you came to the conclusion that it just wasn't possible.

Your friends and families would hate you and more than that jay himself would hate you. It was a tricky subject one you didn't like breaching often and Heeseung knew this. The fact that he was bringing it up the day before you were meant to get married was a little bit inconvenient.

You wanted nothing more then to be with Heeseung. You wanted a full and happy life with him, but in all honesty you didn't deserve it.

"He'll hate us Heeseung.." You murmured not looking him in the eye. You feared that if you did look him in the eye that it would be all the convincing that you needed, but you had to think realistically and it just wasn't an option for you.

"Every time I look at you I find it harder and harder to care if he would hate us. I find it harder and harder to find excuses as to why we can't be together. Every kiss, every touch, every time I'm inside of you I'm that much closer to shouting to the rooftops to everyone who will hear me about how much I love you Y/n." No one said being in love would be easy but you didn't know it would be this fucking hard either.

The words Heeseung was saying to you had made your heart stutter and your pulse quicken. Your resolve was crumbling and fast.

"I don't know.. She hasn't answered her phone and I've been calling her for like an hour." You heard a muffled voice right outside the door of the maids closet stopping all traces of the earlier conversation. It was Yunjin right outside your hotel door that was narrowly across from the maids closest you and Heeseung currently occupied.

"You don't think she got cold feet and ran do you?" Belle's voice was heard next shakily asking Yunjin the question no bridesmaid or maid of honor wanted to say on the day before a wedding.

"No, no Y/n would never do that." Yunjin said "She's probably just with Jay sneaking off somewhere, we'll give her until midnight before we call Jay and ask"

"So..in ten minutes?" Belle asked. You looked at Heeseung quickly your eyes wide as panic slightly set in. You needed them to go into the room or somewhere else so you could slip out of this god forsaken closet.

"Yes" Yunjin voice got a bit distanced and the sound of a door closing ceased all voices from the hallway. They had went into the room like you had hoped and now you had to make a dash for it if you didn't want to be caught sneaking out of the closet with Heeseung on your toes.

"I-i have to go" You rushed out to Heeseung giving his hands one last squeeze before you quietly opened the door to closet leaving him alone. He reached out to you but quickly slammed his hand back down. Letting you leave without another word.

You could do this, you could do this, you could do this. It's what you kept telling yourself over and over as the day slowly but surely progressed. Hair and makeup flawless, head piece neatly connected to your veil and dress as snug as ever over your body. You looked...exquisite. You looked more beautiful than you ever felt like you had before. But truthfully you had felt less than stellar. There was a heavy weight that sat in the bottom of your stomach the feeling making you sick all over.

You were getting married today, but you were marrying a man you didn't love. A man you haven't loved in a long time. It was tearing you from limb to limb, he had deserved so much better than you. So, so much better. You were a true harlet and nothing you did after this moment would change that fact.

You had spent so much of your relationship with Jay tangled up with another man, falling in love with another man. Even worse so that man was his best friend, a friend he had for years and years. You were that driving wedge between them. You were a horrible, disgusting person and it had taken you in a beautiful white dress getting dotted on to truly notice it.

"You ready sweets?" Yunjin asked you from behind you. Hands on your shoulders as she beamed lightly at you through the mirror.

"Yeah" You whispered averting your eyes away from the mirror and away from the prying eyes of your best friend. She looked happy and that had made you feel more poorly than you'd care to admit.

"Well it's time.." She squeezed your shoulders gingerly then turned around to gather the rest of the bridal party readying them to get into their positions next to their respective groomsmen.

You took a deep breath finally looking yourself win the mirror one last time before getting up to join your wedding party. You caught Heeseung's eye across the hall standing next to Yunjin as she talked everyone's ear off about the order and what to when they reached the end of the aisle.

Heeseung's stare was intense, it was a look you had never seen from him before. Like a mix of awe and sorrow. He clenched his hands by his sides flexing open then closed in what you could only assume was nervousness. He didn't say a single word but he didn't need to. You knew exactly what he wanted to say and you weren't quite sure if it hurt you or healed you. Hurt because this was it; you were marrying another man. Or healed because again, this was it and you were marrying another man and sooner rather than later this would have to end.

You hadn't accepted that fact yet and the realization hit you like a freight train going a hundred miles an hour. You didn't know if you were losing Heeseung tonight or if you were loosing yourself, It had felt like both.

The wedding music you had picked out started playing over the loud speaker signally the start of your forever.

Taking one finally deep breath you started you decent down the aisle. Jay stood at the end a smile on his face that had only made your heart crack wide open. You had to remind yourself to smile you didn't want to look how you felt and truthfully you were terrified. You were so terrified that you were making the biggest mistake of your life right now marrying a man you weren't in love with.

Once again your eyes flickered to Heeseung's for a split second. His gaze still on yours as if it had never left. It was still intense, still raw and still so full of emotion that it left your head spinning on its axis.

Once you reached the end of the aisle your hands found Jay's awaiting ones. You sent him the warmest smile you could muster as he whispered "You look very beautiful" to you. It furthered the sinking feeling in your stomach.

The officiant started his spiel not even a second later, your mind wandering to unforeseen places as he drowned on and on about love and bringing to people together in holy matrimony but you could not focus on a single word he was saying. Trying to calm the pounding off your heart as what seemed like a million eyes watched you. Could they tell you were falling apart at the seems? Could they seem the storm brewing in your head. Surely they couldn't pin point the dreadful look on your face, it was just nerves to them. You were just another nervous bride to them.

Finally the officiant declared to everyone in the room to speak now if they'd like to object or forever hold their peace. The room was eerily quiet the clock in your mind ticking and you found it screaming at you something you had never thought before. Heeseung say something! Say something please. The thought startled you but it came straight from your heart like a high jacker taking over your mind body and soul your heart was for once at the forefront of your being, finally In charge making the decisions for once.

Heeseung please..-

"Don't marry him."

You could hear a pin drop. The silence that followed was deafening. No one had believed it. You froze in your place your eyes shooting to Jay to watch his rigid body as he stared down...at Heeseung a mixture of confusion and rage written all over his face.

"What-" You cracked the silence.

"Don't marry him Y/n" He said again stepping down from the higher up podium the wedding party were on.

"Heeseung what the hell are you doing?" Sunghoon whispered yelled to him. Everyone watched in horror as Heeseung ignored him looking at you and only you.

"I can't stand here for more second and act like this isn't tearing me apart. Mind, body and soul. I'm not great with words Y/n. You know that but I think it's a rather simply thing to say anyway. I love you" Gasped were heard from around the room Jay's eyes wide as he stood unmoving watching the scene unfold in front of him.

"I love you so much that I'm willing to be the villain in every single persons story here, including yours. If that's what it takes for you to take my hand and run out of here with me." Heeseung held his hand out to you as you took a shuttering breath.

Reaching your hand forward to take it was all you intended to do, but before you could connect your hand with his Heeseung was sent flying back onto the ground Jay on top of him in a blur before you could even register what was going on.

"jay!" You shrieked out as the two boys tumbled over eachother throwing blow after blow. Sunghoon sprang into action yanking Jay off of Heeseung with as much strength as he could.

"You fucking bastard!" Jay bellowed pointing his finger in his direction.

"Y/n. What the hell is happening." Yunjin said from next to your her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion looking between Heeseung who was on the floor wiping his now bleeding lip and Jay who was being held back by Sunghoon.

"I'm sorry ok-"

"Fuck you! You just told my wife you love her and-and oh god" Jay turned to you his face red, tears sliding down his cheeks in a cascade. "You- you were going to take his hand"

"jay I-" You started with a stutter trying to gain your bearings but truthfully you didn't know what to say.

"I'm sorry" You cried tears now falling down your cheeks too. "I didn't mean to hurt you but I-i lo-" He cut you off again, a furry in his eyes you had never seen before.

"Don't." He ran a hand through his hair puling at the ends. "Don't say you love him."

"But I do" You whispered defeated. "I love him Jay."

Heeseung those from the floor still wiping his bleeding mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. Not like he'd need it now anyway.

"How long?" Yunjin said from the corner looking at you. "How long have you been lying to everyone Y/n"

You looked to the floor with shame "Over a year"

"I can't believe this." Jay muttered "You've been sneaking behind my back for over a year?" You nodded, the tears still free flowing.

Jay shook his head again, turning to walk away his back turned to you and Heeseung he muttered "I'll never forgive you two. Never."

Your heart cracked in two at the sight of his shoulders slumped in defeat. Of the sight of the disgust from almost everyone in the room as they watched the scene unfold in front of them.

Yunjin picked up the hem of her dress making her way towards the direction Jay went. "Yun please" You called out in a whisper.

"No, Y/n." She seethed. "You ruined everything. I hope you're happy." The room quickly emptied itself everyone fleeing for the monstrous mess that was supposed to be your wedding leaving only you and Heeseung left to deal with the aftermath.

"I don't regret that." Heeseung spoke softly, being the first one to finally break the harrowing silence.

"I want to be with you" He took your hand in his cradling your face with his other palm. "No matter what Y/n I want to be with you."

"I do too." You said a single tear falling from your eyes.

"Lets runaway" He said, your eyes widening in shook at his brazen proposal.

"Marry me. and let's runaway." He titled your head towards his. His eyes completely attached to yours with an intense gaze you could describe as desperation.

"Ok" You said a small smile making its way on your lips "Ok I'll marry you" Heeseung picked you up in a blur spinning you around in his arms.

"Heeseung!" You giggled out as he placed you back on the ground grabbing your head in his hands, cupping your cheeks and attaching his lips to yours in the most vehement kiss you had ever had.

"Let's get out of here."

You didn't know where you'd go and what the future held for you. You didn't know if the people in your life would ever forgive you again, or if they'd even care that you'd left but all you knew was that your future was Heeseung and with that it couldn't be anything less then extraordinary.

(★) @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar , @notevenheretbh1 , @hwanghyunjinismybae, @ch4c0nnenh4, @kristynaaah , @simj4k3 , @sangiewife , @hyunj00 , @firstclassjaylee , @teddybeartaetae , @i-am-not-dal , @xylatox , @desistay

[dismalflo]

…it’s me again from the last req. maybe you could do one where it’s like one of the pure blood boys(I was thinking maybe Sirius or barty) and it’s like they don’t realise how deeply rooted like the misogyny of how they grew up is in their brains. Maybe they make an offhand comment or action towards the reader that’s like almost passive aggressively sexist and she like totally calls them out on it and is like y, u can’t talk to me like that. did that make sense? I don’t think that made sense but oh well

thankyou for requesting!! i struggled with this one for a bit but its such a good idea. i hope you enjoy <3

Barty Crouch Jr. x fem!reader where he can't quite understand why you're upset ✩ 1.6k words

cw: misogyny, little bit angsty, hurt/comfort, Barty is a dick (but he tries to learn from it), reader plays quidditch.

an: sorry i made your fave a piece of shit (with redemption) it hurt to write

“ –you agree with me Reggie, surely.”

“I do not, thank you. And do I have to remind you that your girlfriend–”

Regulus cuts himself off when he sees you approaching, but the scowl directed at Barty doesn’t shift. Barty doesn’t seem to care as he, noticing your arrival too, turns to smile so wide, you’re sure it hurts his cheeks, forgetting the conversation all together.

“Treasure!” he exclaims as you sit yourself beside him, before planting a lingering kiss to your temple.

“What were you guys talking about?” you ask before nodding to Regulus, “Heard you mention me.” 

"Barty’s an idiot, Y/N, I’m sorry." Regulus sighs heavily, standing abruptly from his seat. "I'll see you at practice, yeah?" His gaze flicks to you, not a single word is directed toward the boy beside you, his arm comfortably wrapped around your waist. The snub feels sharp, though you're not entirely sure why.

“He’s become bloody dramatic since he started seeing potter.” Barty says cheerfully, as if he’s not the most melodramatic man you know. The only times you’ve seen Barty drop his theatrics is when it’s only the two of you. He’s still impulsive and daring but the fire gets dropped for sweetness and he's lovely. You’re his and he’s yours.

“What did you do to rile him up, Bee?” you tease, leaning into his side with a gentle smile. 

He squeezes your waist briefly, pulling you in closer before responding.

“We were talking about Quidditch, and he complained about one of your beaters. I said that it must be annoying trying to get the girls to listen, poor bloke.”

You blink, processing his words, and a cold chill starts to creep down your spine. It takes a moment for the reality of what he's said to fully hit you. 

"What did you just say?" You ask slowly, your voice steady.

Barty doesn't notice the shift in your demeanor. His grin only widens, his eyes sparkling with affection as he watches you. To him, it’s just another offhand remark; playful, maybe teasing, but never meant to hurt. It’s the way he’s always been.

"I said, it must be annoying trying to get the girls to listen," he repeats, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Y’know because girls never stop talking.” he nods.

Your smile falters, and you pull back from him slightly. His arm falls from your waist, the space between you suddenly feeling miles wide. Regulus’s parting words echo in your mind, but you focus on Barty now. His face morphs into one of confusion, a flicker of amusement still lingering, but it’s clear he doesn’t understand why your mood has shifted.

 It’s laughable, really, coming from a boy that says everything that flashes through his mind, always loud and known. That’s just Barty and you’d never complain about it or ask him to change –you love him–but this rubs you the wrong way.

“You’d prefer that I didn't speak so much, then?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Tres, I didn’t say–”

“But you did, Barty! I'm on that team! I'm one of the girls Regulus has to deal with!”

Barty blinks, clearly thrown off. His smile falters for a moment, and he opens his mouth, likely trying to smooth things over with some careless, half-thought-out joke. But when he sees the sharpness in your eyes, the edge to your voice, it makes him falter.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he begins, his tone defensive but still a little unsure, his hand coming up to run through his hair–because he’s frustrated or nervous you can't tell. “It’s just that, well… y’know, girls can sometimes be a bit more, uh, talkative than the guys–”

“Are you serious right now?” You cut him off, your voice not loud, but steady with the kind of controlled anger that makes Barty’s stomach twist.

Barty opens his mouth, then closes it, unsure of how to proceed. An uncomfortable feeling taking hold, but there’s also something inside of him—a deep-rooted, unexamined part of him—that wants to dismiss this as you being too sensitive. He’s never really thought about his own words that deeply, never had to. Growing up, he was surrounded by a very particular brand of masculinity.

"I didn’t mean to offend you, honestly," Barty says quickly, his voice softer now, though still with that edge of defensiveness. "I just meant that—"

"Yeah, I know what you meant," you interrupt, voice icy. "But the problem is, Barty, you're so used to saying whatever comes to your mind without thinking about it for one second. You don’t get to say things like that and just get away with it. "

He stares at you, his mouth opening and closing again, looking as though he’s trying to piece together exactly where he went wrong. His brow furrows, a flash of frustration crossing his face. 

"You're making it sound like I hate women or something. I don’t. You know I don’t. It was just a joke."

“No, I don’t think you hate women,” you respond coolly. "But you clearly don’t get how ingrained some of that shit is.” You stand up suddenly, ready to walk away. “I’ll see you later, Barty.” 

-

It’s just past curfew when you hear the knock on the door of the girls' dormitory. You open it, bleary-eyed and ready to tell whoever it is to sod off—only to find Barty standing there, hair a mess, eyes wide, hands full of... flowers?

They’re awful. Wild, lopsided things that look like they were pulled from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. And he’s holding them like they might explode.

“Hi,” he says, voice tight with nerves. “I—I brought these. They’re not from an actual florist or anything, but I thought maybe you’d like them anyway because... well, because I’m sorry. And I didn’t know what else to do.”

You raise an eyebrow, but you don’t close the door.

“I was a dick,” he continues, words tumbling out now like he’s afraid if he stops, you’ll shut him out for good. “A stupid, arrogant, loud-mouthed dick who didn’t realise that he’s been spoon-fed this idea that making fun of girls is just ‘harmless banter’. But it’s not. Not when it’s you. Not when it makes you look at me like I’m someone you don’t recognise.”

You lean against the doorframe, arms crossed.

“I don’t want to be that person,” Barty says, voice breaking a little now. “Not with you. You make me want to be—better, not just louder.”

The silence between you stretches.

“I hated how quick you were to dismiss it. To dismiss me,” you say, voice softer now, but still firm. “You’re smart, Barty. You should know better.”

“I do now. I was thinking about it and then I went to talk to Reg about it. He said it's something about the way we were raised, some batshit thing that goes hand in hand with my fathers bullshit, but I know that's not an excuse, tres.” He steps forward slightly, holding the scraggly bouquet out like a peace offering. “Please let me make it up to you.”

You hesitate. But in his eyes, you see none of the easy arrogance you’d grown used to. There’s only sincerity.

You sigh and take the flowers, fingers brushing his as you do. They're prickly in places, uneven, with leaves still clinging to the stems—but they’re honest. Wild and untamed, just like him.

Barty doesn’t grin. Doesn’t make a joke. He just walks in slowly, hands tucked into the pockets of his robes, like he’s afraid to breathe too loudly.

You sit on the edge of your bed, the flowers resting in your lap. He stays standing.

“I’m not good at this,” he says after a beat. “Like… not just the apologising part, but the learning part. I've been told I’m clever all my life, and it’s made me lazy. I don't question things unless they get in my way.”

You nod, watching him closely.

“But you’re not just someone in my way. You’re the person who makes all the noise in my head worth it. So if I’ve got to unlearn everything just to not lose you, I’ll do it.”

A breath catches in your throat. “This isn’t just about keeping me, Bee. It’s about being someone better. For you.”

His eyes flicker, glassy for a moment, and he sits down—tentatively—beside you. “I know.”

You glance down at the flowers again and then up at him, lips tugging into a small, reluctant smile. A silence settles between you.

 “These are hideous.” you say finally. “You can’t just fix things with flowers and guilt, Barty, It’s not that simple.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet, sincere. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

Barty reaches over, tentative, and places his hand over yours. He doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t try to pull you closer. He just stays.

“I’m gonna mess up again,” he says softly. “But I’ll listen. I’ll learn. And I’ll apologise when I do. Properly. Not with jokes.”

You glance at him, heart aching with something complicated and warm and stubbornly hopeful.

“You’d better.”

His smile is small, a little broken around the edges, but real. “Does this mean you’re not going to dump me?”

You pretend to consider it, then lean your head on his shoulder with a sigh. “You’re on thin ice, Junior.”

He huffs a laugh, and for the first time tonight, it sounds like him.

“I’ll take it,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against your hair.

masterlist <3

[red5cars]

shepherd's pie - the meeting

soap x f!reader tags: mentions of religion and purity culture (purity rings), lighthearted, soap being an ass an: been thinking of johnny tormenting his poor religious neighbor and this came to be. moreso for fun (a rarity). enjoy!

imagine moving across the world for your faith. maybe that wasn't the entire reason but the little town you picked were filled with people like you.

devout, condescending, catholics.

it was different, but familiar, home away from home. at the very least, you wouldn't feel out of place.

or so you thought.

the apartment was.. quaint, to say the least.

nothing outlandish considering the budget you were working with, but it seemed it was made with the intention of hosting one person and one person only.

though, who were you to complain about one of god's gifts? (or rather, your pastor's connections if you'd like to get specific)

moving to a different country is no easy or cheap feat, packing up your life to start anew in a place where no one knows you.

in truth, you were aching to get away. there was nothing wrong with the town you originated from, all the citizens sweet and southern, but static. unchanging in a world that was known for nothing but change.

it was like a broken record, interacting with the same people day in and day out. a change of scenery was in order the moment you realized you could predict miss julianne's answer to "what did you do this weekend"?

prophetic gifts or not, staying there offered nothing but stale comfort. and you needed, deserved something fresh.

which lead you here; standing in the middle of an unfurnished, off-white, cramped flat. aka, your new home.

well, you need to make it feel like home first.

knock knock.

before you can even start sifting through boxes, a firm knock on the door interrupts you. strange, you're positive the moving company got everything (if they didn't, it's no big deal. you had to downsize a considerable amount for the move), so it could just be someone knocking on the wrong door.

you chalk it up to just that, moving back to the task at hand. grabbing your key, lining it up with the edge of the tape before digging it in and-

knock knock knock.

okay, maybe they have the right door.

the knocks continue, becoming quicker in succession as you make your way to the door. your fingers pinch the lock, taking a deep breath before twisting it and then the doorknob.

"'bout time ye opened up th' door, makin' me wait till fuckin' christ- …mas.."

a man, with the most obscene haircut you've ever saw, stands in front of you. for a moment, it seemed every bone in his body had nothing but hate. that is, till he laid his eyes on you, disappearing and leaving confusion in it's absence.

"..ye're not mitch," he says, looking you up and down, deciding if you're real or not.

in response, you shake your head, offering up a soft smile, "no, i'm not. i'm actually the new tenant, and you?"

he stares at you for a minute longer, darting between your face and the space behind you. it's almost uncomfortable how long it takes for him to process this information but the moment he does, his lips curl upwards, body leaning against the frame.

"new tenant?" he repeats, watching you nod your head in confirmation, "well, didnae ken mitch left his place ta such a bonnie thing," he sucks his teeth in after, eyes roving over your form in a different way. secular, sensual, words that begin with 's'.

strange and discomforting flattery aside, you've only just met the man. may as well give him the benefit of the doubt.

you hope he doesn't notice the slight strain in your smile, "yes i actually just moved in this morning." you give him your name, which he immediately tries on his lips. "bi' foreign," he says, and you can only nod in agreement.

"and you are-" he hardly gives you a chance to ask, reaching out and taking your hand in his. he shakes it enthusiastically, the force of his movement making you follow along. whatever benefit you gave him is long forgotten now, as well is the appropriate amount of time for strangers to make physical contact.

"johnny, but a'body calls me th' most braw jim ye'll ever meet," while not the most clear, his cocky attitude communicates enough. to think one of the first people you meet in this apparently "holy" town seems anything but.

the smile on your face becomes harder to maintain, especially when he has not let go of your hand. desperate to get away, you begin to slip your hand out of his, the other pushing on your door, "well, it was nice meeting you, johnny, but i'm a bit busy so if you'll excuse me," you manage to retract your hand completely from his grasp, only needing to close the door and you'll be rid of him.

unfortunately, it isn't that easy.

it happens in a blur, johnny grabbing your hand again, not to shake, but to examine. his sudden movement takes you by surprise, and you can no longer maintain pleasantries with this brute, "johnny!"

"this a purity ring?" he asks abruptly, turning your hand over in his, steel blue eyes honed in on the metallic band on your left finger.

his question stuns you. this.. caveman, who has done nothing but eye you, squeeze your hand, and just make you uncomfortable is now brushing his thumb over the engravement of Matthew 5:8 on your purity ring, which you didn't even expect him to know what it is!

then again, he has done nothing but subvert your expectations since meeting him five minutes ago.

rather than a simple slip, you go ahead and yank your hand away, cradling it in it's partner, "yes.. why?" it's like soothing a burn, the memory of his skin still hot on yours.

his eyes are still glued to your ring, slowly ascending to meet your gaze. in a way, it's intense, holding all of your attention. then, he eases it by breaking into a simple smile, "well, didnae take ye for a religious hen, bonnie. i myself am a believer," his hand moves to his shirt, fishing out a necklace from beneath the collar. no way, he can't, it-

sure enough, dangling from his gold chain is a dainty cross.

"..oh," it should reassure you, but does anything but.

johnny only nods, tucking it back under his shirt, "aye, nae as devout but i still partake every now an' then," he says, rambling a bit as you attempt to make sense of who the man before you really is.

"..got a purity ring myself," you tune back in when he says it, noting the way his smile has shifted back into a grin. you're tempted to say something in response, but nothing comes to mind, still reeling from the prior discovery.

"y'ken," his voice drops to a whisper, "i hav' it on me" it's like he's sharing a secret, the way he inches closer as he speaks.

your mouth remains shut but your eyes ask where is it? which makes him crack into a full grin.

he gets closer, a hairs breadth keeping you apart. johnny's hand reaches back out for your ringed one, stroking your finger as he tells you:

"well, had ta get it resized to fit 'round my cock."

it's the last straw, pulling yourself back and slamming the door shut on him. as you lean against the door, you can feel your heart pounding in your ears. oh gosh, this man, he's.. he's..

"nice t'meet ye, neighbor!"

he's the devil himself.

[valenftcrush]

⩨MISDELIVERED ˙˖✶ james potter

pair: james potter x fem!reader warnings: none, kinda fluff; English isn't my first language so it may contain spelling mistakes.

Summary: When Y/N receives a package meant for the boy upstairs, she doesn’t expect it to come with a cat, lavender tea, and a smile that lingers longer than it should.

Y/N wasn’t particularly fond of living in a building where the ceilings creaked with every step, the walls seemed to have ears, and parcels always ended up in the wrong place. Still, the rent was reasonable, the flat got a decent amount of natural light in the afternoons, and if she managed to ignore the neighbour blasting electronic music at three in the morning, she could just about convince herself that her life was somewhat under control.

Until that day.

That day, the doorbell rang. When she opened the door, no one was there. Just a box resting on the threshold. Her long-awaited order: scented candles.

“Finally…” she murmured with a faint smile, stepping back into the flat without checking the label.

With a pair of scissors, she eagerly opened the box, anticipating the sweet scent of vanilla and spices. But what she found inside was something entirely unexpected.

A book titled "Breathe. Don’t Yell at the Universe", a white mug with gold lettering that read: "Best Cat Dad", and a box of lavender tea, all carefully packed alongside a note. “Jamie, I hope you’re taking care of yourself, but in case you’re not, I’m sending you this. Love, Mum.”

Y/N blinked. Then read the note again.

No. That definitely wasn’t meant for her.

She inspected the box more closely, a strange feeling settling in her stomach. Finally, she read the label:

James F. Potter – 3B, third floor.

3B… She lived in 3B, yes… but in the second floor.

“Seriously?” she whispered, shoulders slumping in defeat. The universe, once again, was mocking her life.

She knew who lived in the 3B upstairs. Well, she’d seen him a few times. The guy in dark hoodies, oversized headphones, and a look that seemed to hide secrets beneath his messy brows. He always stepped out of the lift just as she was waiting, but they had never interacted beyond fleeting glances. No greetings, no smiles. Just his perpetually tired expression, like the world was too much for him.

She’d once seen him wearing a shirt that said Chudley Cannons. And she’d assumed, without much thought, that it was some European rugby team or something. Honestly, she had no idea, nor any interest.

Though now, a flicker of interest was beginning to spark.

She sighed, put on her slippers, picked up the box and decided to head upstairs.

When she arrived, the door to 3B was ajar. Before she could even knock, a black cat peeked through the gap and stared at her with disdain. It was large, and its fur looked incredibly soft.

Y/N stepped back just as a voice from inside the flat said:

“Reggie, don’t go out. You know you’re not allowed to hunt pigeons on Tuesdays.”

The door opened fully, and there he was: James Potter.

No headphones, no hoodie, just an old T-shirt and pyjama bottoms. His hair was still damp, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. For a brief moment, he looked just as startled as she did.

They both blinked. Silence fell between them instantly and completely.

“Er… hi,” Y/N said, holding the box between them like a bridge between two worlds. “I think this is yours. It was delivered to the wrong 3B.”

James looked at the box, then at her, then back at the box.

“Oh…” he cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry. I… I must’ve put the wrong address.”

“It’s not your fault,” Y/N replied quickly. “Couriers always get the numbers mixed up. They don’t even check the floor, and… well, never mind.”

An awkward silence followed, though not entirely uncomfortable. More like clumsy, as if neither of them knew how to move forward. Neither wanted to close the door, but neither knew what else to say.

“Did you open it?” James asked eventually, his expression curious.

“Just a little,” she lied, though in truth she had examined every item with the precision of someone trying to decipher a hidden message.

James nodded, slightly embarrassed.

“Well… um, thanks. For bringing it up.”

“Of course,” she replied, offering a small smile—shy, but meant to carry a hint of warmth.

Another pause. This one lighter than the previous. The awkwardness lingered, but in a softer way. Neither seemed to know how to say goodbye without it feeling weird. No one wanted to be the first to shut the door.

“Well…” she began, just as he blurted:

“Do you want…?”

They both stopped.

“You first,” they said, again in perfect unison.

They both laughed softly, lowering their eyes. It was an almost painfully tender moment.

“I was just going to say… if you want to keep the tea. It’s a double pack. And Reggie doesn’t drink herbal tea. Yet,” he added with a wry smile.

“And I was going to say… it was nice meeting you. Even if it was thanks to a delivery mishap.”

James nodded thoughtfully, then, with a touch more confidence, said:

“Would you like to come up another time? I can make lavender tea. Or… whatever one’s supposed to do to not look like a complete idiot.”

Y/N shrugged, still smiling.

“Tea sounds good. Idiot, not so much—but you’re not far off.”

James let out a genuine laugh, the first one Y/N had heard from him up close.

“I swear this is still the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to me since I fell over in the middle of a national match.”

“Was that Reggie’s fault too?”

“Of course. He’s the real star player.”

Y/N smiled at him again, and he didn’t stop looking at that smile. As she made her way down the stairs, she couldn’t help but think that maybe there was more to this building than just creaks and misdelivered parcels.

[psformybss]

could u write an interview fic w drew n an actress reader or costar

Wired Chaos

drew starkey x actress!reader

warnings: sarcastic chaos, emotional exposure, lie detector mess

an: i had so many ideas but i decided to do a wired interview because i honestly love these. i went a little too extra with this one tho and it’s lowkey chaotic af.

You’re not nervous.

You’re just strapped to a machine that monitors your pulse, breathing, and capacity for deception, sitting across from your real-life boyfriend-slash-former nemesis while cameras roll and a complete stranger watches for signs of romantic weakness. Totally normal. Very chill.

Drew’s already grinning like he’s been waiting his whole life for this. His legs are sprawled out in that irritatingly confident way, and he looks like someone who definitely still texts “u up?” for fun.

“Try not to lie,” he says, tilting his head. “I hear the machine hates liars.”

You blink once, slowly. “Good luck, then.”

The technician gives a thumbs up. The camera starts rolling. You resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they leave orbit.

It begins politely. Names. Roles. Basic stats.

Then Drew gets cocky. “Would you say I’m your favorite cast member?”

“No.”

The needle stays flat.

He gasps. “Cold-blooded.”

You smile sweetly. “You’re top five.”

“There are six of us.”

“Exactly.”

Your turn.

“Did you or did you not call my character ‘forced’ before ever speaking to me?”

Drew shifts. “Allegedly.”

The machine screams LIE like it’s offended on your behalf.

You hum. “Interesting.”

“In my defense,” he says, “you walked into that readthrough like you’d already fired half the writers.”

“And you looked like you hadn’t slept since 2017.”

Someone off camera chokes. You don’t look. Drew’s trying not to smile. He’s failing.

You get off track quickly.

“Be honest,” he says. “You rehearsed your Truth or Dare roast, didn’t you?”

You pause. “Maybe.”

The machine beeps loud enough to make the intern flinch.

Drew laughs like he’s just caught you cheating on a test. “Knew it.”

“You told the entire table that I looked like a ‘girlboss-themed Bond villain.’”

“Yeah, and that was improv.”

“That’s what concerns me.”

You try to sabotage him next.

“Did you know you liked me when you sent that stupid meme about Rafe needing therapy and a father figure?”

He stares. “No comment.”

BEEP.

You press your lips together. “Joseph Andrew Starkey. You caught feelings over a shitpost.”

He mutters, “It was a good meme.”

It spirals from there.

“Did I annoy you during season two?”

“Yes.”

“Do I still?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in love with me?”

“Shut up.”

Truth.

You raise both brows. He looks like a man deeply regretting his life choices.

“Say it again?” you ask.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll make it your ringtone.”

He’s not wrong.

Eventually, the technician cuts in, trying to regain order. You and Drew both ignore him completely. Someone behind the camera whispers, “Just let them go.”

You’ve lost all structure now. It’s just chaos and bad decisions.

“Have you forgiven me for the hoodie I stole in Atlanta?”

“Which one?”

He closes his eyes like he’s praying.

“Would you trust me to act opposite Timothée Chalamet?”

He blinks. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because you’d fall in love and I’d have to fight him.”

“…You think you could win?”

A long pause.

“…Emotionally? No.”

You nod solemnly. “That’s fair.”

Somewhere around the fifteen-minute mark, you stop remembering this is for Vanity Fair. That millions of people will see it. That you’re both supposed to be promoting a show and not emotionally exposing yourselves on camera like two feral raccoons in love.

Drew looks at you like he always does—like you’re either going to kiss him or ruin his life. (It’s always been both.)

You cross your legs, lean back, and say, “So… still think I was a bad fit?”

He smiles, slow and sheepish. “No.”

Truth.

You lean forward, elbows on the table, voice low. “Did you fall for me before or after I told you to grow up on set in front of the sound guy?”

He grins. “Right then.”

Truth.

You hum, pleased. “Knew it.”

When it’s over, you both stand at the same time. The technician is sweating. The producer looks like he needs a drink. The footage will need a thousand disclaimers.

Drew bumps your shoulder with his. “You gonna be nice to me now?”

You eye him. “Define ‘nice.’”

He leans in, smirking. “You’ll text me later.”

You scoff. “You’ll text me first.”

He shrugs. “Yeah. Probably.”

The machine would call that the truest thing he’s said all day.

[missmadella]

His Jacket, His Girl, His Forever (Mikey x Reader)

Summary: It started with a game. Just you and Emma rating the boys of Toman during a shrine meeting, giggling about who’s hottest and who gives the best hugs. You didn’t expect Mikey to overhear. And you definitely didn’t expect him to throw his jacket over your shoulders like a claim of territory.

Words: 12280

Warnings: Soft possessiveness, clingy Mikey, a few kisses that might steal your heart, and Emma being the best wingwoman.

You met Mikey because he stole your sandwich.

Not in a cool, movie-style theft where your eyes locked across a bustling convenience store or something. No. He just walked up, took one look at your lunch, and said:

"That looks better than mine."

Then he picked it up and took a bite.

It was a Tuesday.

You blinked at him, absolutely stunned. “Excuse me?”

He blinked back, still chewing. “You gonna eat the rest?”

You were standing outside the corner store you always stopped at after class. You didn’t know who he was — not yet — just that he was barefoot for some reason and wearing a school uniform that didn’t match any of the local schools. His face was too pretty for his attitude.

You stared at him. “Did you just rob me?”

Mikey grinned. “Technically, no. You’re still holding it.”

You looked down at your half-eaten sandwich. Then back at him.

“…Are you high?”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, hands on his hips like he’d done nothing wrong. “Just hungry.”

You could’ve slapped him. You really could have. But then he tilted his head, sunlight hitting his eyes just right, and he smiled like someone who’d gotten away with worse.

“…You’re insane,” you muttered.

He beamed. “You’re fun. I’m Mikey.”

You didn’t give him your name. Not at first. But that didn’t stop him from showing up the next day.

And the next.

Turns out, Mikey was a bit of a legend — whether you wanted to hear it or not.

“Manjiro Sano,” Emma said when you finally brought it up. “Leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang.”

You nearly dropped your drink. “That’s Mikey?!”

She gave you a look. “You’ve been hanging out with him for two weeks and didn’t know?”

“To be fair,” you said, thinking of how he kept showing up barefoot to random convenience stores, “he doesn’t exactly scream ‘dangerous gang leader.’”

Emma raised a brow. “Tell that to the people he’s kicked unconscious.”

“…Right.”

But it was too late by then. You’d already kind of liked him.

Because Mikey wasn’t what you expected. Sure, he was unpredictable. Occasionally terrifying. Once made direct eye contact with you while eating an entire chocolate bar without chewing.

But he also made you laugh — a lot. He had the worst jokes. The best timing. He asked questions no one else thought to ask, like:

“Do you think ghosts get bored of haunting the same place?”

Or, your personal favorite:

“If I name a goldfish ‘Shinichiro,’ is that disrespectful or kind of sweet?”

Sometimes he said nothing at all. Just showed up, walked beside you, and shared whatever snack he was carrying — even if it was only one bite. (Sometimes especially if it was only one bite.)

And over time, you noticed things.

Like how he always waited for everyone else to eat before he touched his food. Or how his eyes drifted toward the sky when the conversation got too serious, like he was trying not to remember something.

He was strange. And reckless. And a little broken.

But he made you feel seen. And more importantly — he made you feel safe.

You didn’t know when you started holding his hand without thinking. Or when he stopped pretending you were just a friend.

But one night, when you handed him a sandwich without saying anything, he looked at it, then at you, and smiled that same dumb smile from the first day.

“…You remembered.”

“Of course I did,” you said, nudging him in the ribs. “But if you steal mine again, I’m breaking your legs.”

Mikey laughed — a real, unfiltered laugh — and leaned in close.

“Too late,” he whispered, stealing a bite anyway.

___________________________________________________________________________

It had been a few weeks since Mikey had started hanging around you, and things between the two of you had definitely shifted. What started as random encounters — him stealing your food, offering random deep (and often nonsensical) questions, or showing up when you least expected it — turned into something more natural. He’d walk you home, sit next to you at the corner store, and always, always drag you to random places just because he felt like it.

But today, everything changed.

You were walking out of school, talking with Emma about the usual nonsense, when you noticed a guy from your class standing awkwardly near the gate. He was fiddling with his sleeves and looking like he was trying to work up the courage to speak.

You barely had time to process when he finally blurted out, “Hey, uh... I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Would you maybe... wanna go get coffee sometime?”

You blinked. “Um, sure...”

He grinned like he’d just won a prize. “Awesome! How about tomorrow?”

Before you could respond, the sound of roaring engines interrupted the moment. You turned, and there he was — Mikey, effortlessly gliding in on his bike, the wind ruffling his already messy hair as he slowed down in front of you. His eyes locked onto the guy immediately.

“Hey,” Mikey called out, his tone lazy but with a hard edge. The guy visibly tensed.

You watched in mild confusion as Mikey hopped off his bike, walked up to you, and stood way too close for comfort — his shoulder brushing yours like he owned the space between you. “You talkin’ to my girl?” he asked, his eyes flashing toward the guy with that signature smug smile.

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Mikey’s sudden arrival and the intense, almost possessive vibe radiating off him. “Uh, I—”

“No need to answer,” Mikey cut him off, already turning to you with a grin. “I’ll take it from here, yeah?”

You raised an eyebrow, still processing the situation. “Mikey, what are you doing?”

“Claiming what’s mine.” He winked at you, hands sliding into his pockets. “I’m picking you up every day now from today, by the way. It’s a Mikey thing.”

The guy looked between you two, clearly out of his depth, and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Uh, okay, well... I guess I’ll... see you around?”

You sighed, stepping back as Mikey leaned down, resting his chin on your shoulder like he was too comfortable. “Nope,” Mikey called after the guy, giving him a half-hearted wave before turning his attention back to you. “Now, where were we?”

You were still caught off guard. “What just happened?”

Mikey let out a lazy laugh and nudged your shoulder with his. “Nothing much. Just making sure no one else thinks they can steal you away.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You’re mine.”

“Wait, really?” You were still trying to catch up, blinking at him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “You were already mine the second you handed me your sandwich. Don’t act like you didn’t know.” He grinned at you. “So... how about it? I’ll walk you home, and then I can take you somewhere nice.”

You tried to suppress your smile. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love it.”

With that, Mikey draped his arm around you and practically dragged you off, leaving the guy standing there, completely forgotten.

And from that day on, you had Mikey’s attention — a lot of it. In his own unique, clingy way, he was all yours.

___________________________________________________________________________

It was almost sunset when the low rumble of engines echoed through the quiet neighborhood, signaling the approach of the Tokyo Manji Gang.

You were already at Musashi Shrine, standing just off the path with Emma. The air smelled like burnt gasoline and cedarwood. Golden light filtered through the trees, catching on the backs of the approaching riders like something out of a movie.

“Look at them,” Emma said with a smirk, nudging your shoulder. “All dramatic and cool.”

“They’re just boys in matching jackets,” you replied, but even you knew it wasn’t true. There was something magnetic about the way they moved together — a reckless kind of unity.

The boys began filing up the steps toward the meeting spot, lining up in their usual formation. You saw Baji throw a punch at someone for a reason only he understood, and Mitsuya adjusting someone’s collar with tired precision.

And then — like clockwork — he found you.

Mikey didn’t walk. He drifted. One second, he was in front of the captains; the next, he was beside you, arms lazily draped over your shoulders like he was trying to become part of your outfit.

“There you are,” he said, like you were the one who’d been missing.

You blinked. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

“I know.” He leaned closer, tugging you back a step until your back bumped his chest. “But it feels longer when I’m not touching you.”

Emma made a choking noise beside you. “Oh my god.”

You ignored her and tilted your head. “Mikey—”

“Manjiro,” he corrected softly, so close to your ear it sent a little shiver down your neck.

You turned to glance at him, caught off guard by the seriousness in his tone. His eyes were half-lidded, that familiar sleepy look — but there was a flicker of something more focused underneath.

“…Manjiro,” you said carefully, testing the sound of it.

His smirk deepened.

Before you could say anything else, he leaned down and pressed a quick, stupidly soft kiss to your lips — right there in front of the whole damn world.

Not rough. Not teasing. Just gentle, quick, and unmistakably his.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He pulled back barely an inch, still close enough that his forehead nearly touched yours. “That’s better,” he murmured.

Emma wheezed. “I’m right here, you two!”

You shoved at his chest, your face suddenly way too warm. “Seriously?! Right before your big gangster meeting?!”

Mikey grinned. “Gives me good luck.”

“You’re gonna make them think I’m distracting you.”

“You are distracting,” he said, absolutely unbothered.

“Manjiro—!”

He kissed your cheek this time, slow and lingering. “Mmh. Say it again.”

“Stop being weird!” you hissed, trying to push him off — but he just hung on tighter, like a very smug, very clingy sloth.

“I like when you call me that,” he said, finally loosening his grip. “Only you, though. Everyone else sounds like a teacher.”

He finally stepped back, his fingers trailing from your hand like he didn’t quite want to let go yet. “Stay where I can see you, okay?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why? Gonna get jealous if someone makes eye contact with me?”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked toward the captains, completely casual — as if he hadn’t just publicly kissed his girlfriend like it was a holy ritual.

Emma leaned in with wide eyes. “So. How does it feel being claimed like territory?”

You smacked her arm. “Shut up.”

__________________________________________________________________________

The sun was starting to dip behind the trees, casting long shadows over the shrine grounds as the Tokyo Manji Gang settled into their usual positions. Mikey, ever the casual leader, was already at the center, chatting with Draken and the other captains. The air around them was tense, full of gang business that you really didn’t want to hear about.

You and Emma were sitting off to the side, legs dangling from the stone platform as you watched the boys talk shop. You could barely make out the words — something about territory and rival gangs — but honestly, the topic wasn’t new. It was the same stuff they always talked about.

Mikey, however, had a different agenda.

You were scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself, when you felt the familiar weight of his jacket being draped over your shoulders. You froze, glancing up just in time to see him flash a lazy grin at you from across the group.

“What’re you doing?” you asked, blinking at him.

“Making sure everyone knows you’re taken,” Mikey replied casually, shoving his hands into his pockets as he leaned against a tree. “Don’t want anyone getting any ideas.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Mikey’s “possessive” side had always been cheeky, but something about his calm expression and the weight of his jacket made it feel more real this time.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He winked. “What? You’re my girl. I gotta make sure they all know.”

Emma, who was sitting next to you, let out a dramatic sigh. “Mikey’s so whipped. It’s kind of adorable.”

“Emma,” you whispered, nudging her with your elbow, but she was already grinning from ear to ear.

Mikey overheard and grinned back at her, giving a half-shrug. “I’m not whipped. I’m just... protective.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Mikey was unpredictable, a wild mix of playful and possessive, but you liked it. You liked him.

As the conversation droned on, you felt your attention starting to wander. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about Toman’s plans, but right now, it was just a bunch of boys talking in circles about turf wars and rival gangs. You glanced at Emma, who was already bored out of her mind.

 “What do you think?” you whispered. “Want to play the game again?”

Emma grinned mischievously. “I’m so in. But let’s make it more interesting.”

You glanced at Mikey, who was still fully engaged in the meeting, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes fixed on Baji as he ranted about something. He didn’t notice the playful glint in your eye. Perfect.

“Alright, let’s do it. First question, who’s the most dramatic in Toman?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Emma grinned mischievously. “Baji. No contest.”

You couldn’t help but agree. “Yeah, he’s always throwing tantrums like he’s the main character in a soap opera.”

You glanced at Mikey again. He was still oblivious, but you could feel him shifting a little closer to you. That clinginess of his was getting real obvious.

“And... who’s the most secretly emotional?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. You weren’t going for anything too serious, just something fun to see how she’d respond.

Emma tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Draken. He’s always trying to hide it, but you know the guy’s a softie.”

You looked over at Draken, who was standing with his arms folded, looking like the stoic rock of the group. “Hmm, you’re right. You can tell he’s got a heart of gold hidden under all that tough guy exterior.”

“Okay, okay,” Emma continued. “Now... who’s the most likely to cry during a movie?”

You glanced at Mikey, who was fiddling with his phone, sitting back on the stone steps like he owned the place. Without missing a beat, you answered, “Mikey.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, amused. “Really?”

You shrugged. “I mean, have you seen him when he watches a movie? He gets emotional over the smallest things.”

Emma laughed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

You leaned in closer, trying to stifle your laugh. “Alright, next one — who’s the worst cook in Toman?”

This time, Emma didn’t hesitate. “Mikey. He can’t even make toast without burning it.”

You couldn’t help but snicker. “He once tried to make instant ramen, and the kitchen smelled like smoke for hours.”

Emma raised her eyebrows, laughing quietly. “He’s definitely not winning any cooking awards. I bet he doesn’t even know how to make eggs.”

You glanced over at Mikey just as he casually draped his arm over your shoulder again, pulling you closer like he was very aware of what you were talking about. “What are you two gossiping about over here?”

You gave him your most innocent look. “Oh, nothing. Just discussing your many... talents.”

Mikey’s eyes narrowed playfully, his lips twitching into a grin. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

You winked at him. “You’re really bad at cooking.”

He feigned shock, but his grin grew. “I can cook just fine, thank you very much. But, I guess if you don’t like my cooking, I’ll just have to feed you from now on.”

“Oh? You’re volunteering?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Mikey’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Of course. I’m a man of many talents.” He leaned in a little closer. “You’re gonna love my cooking... or my effort at it.”

Emma stifled a laugh and glanced at you. “I love how he thinks he’s so charming.”

You smirked. “He’s adorable, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to roast him when it comes to the kitchen.”

Mikey gave you a playful nudge, pretending to be offended. “I’m taking this jacket back, then. No more claiming you in front of everyone.”

“Try it, and I’ll keep it,” you shot back, leaning into him.

Mikey’s eyes flicked over to the group briefly, sensing that the meeting was winding down, and then whispered, “I’m not done yet. You can’t escape me.”

You laughed quietly, shifting your focus back to Emma, who was trying to contain her giggles.

“Alright, last question,” you said, winking at Emma. “Who’s most likely to start a fight over something stupid?”

Emma didn’t think twice. “Mikey. Hands down. He’d fight someone for the last piece of candy.”

You blinked at her. “Wait... really?”

Emma shrugged. “I mean, have you seen him when he's hangry?”

You felt Mikey’s grip tighten on your shoulder, a sly grin forming on his face as he overheard the conversation.

“That’s not true,” he said smoothly, leaning down to kiss your temple, his voice suddenly low and teasing. “I’d never fight for candy.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Oh really?”

He winked at you, voice still soft. “Okay, maybe for candy. Or, you know, you. I’d fight anyone for you.”

Before you could retort, the meeting was starting to wrap up, and Mikey shot one last smug look at the gang. He seemed far more interested in you than anything going on in the meeting.

“Guess we’re done here, huh?” Mikey said, standing up and pulling you with him. “Time to take my girl home.”

Emma rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’m pretty sure you’re the reason the meeting’s done.”

You laughed as Mikey gave Emma a playful, unbothered grin. “She’s right. You’re welcome.”

You snatched up his jacket and stood up, wrapping it around yourself like a shield from the cold. “And here I thought you were the dramatic one.”

Mikey winked, slinging an arm around you as you both made your way down the stairs. “Who else would do it better?”

Emma shook her head but smiled. “You two are impossible.”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning up at Mikey. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The meeting had finally wrapped up, the last bit of gang business taken care of. Mikey, as always, had been the first to disengage, already bouncing on his heels and ready to drag you away. His arm was still comfortably draped around your shoulders, his fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his jacket, which was now wrapped snugly around you.

“So, where are we going?” you asked, teasing him. He hadn’t even asked you where you wanted to go — it was as if the choice was already made for you.

“Wherever I want, obviously,” Mikey replied, giving you a cheeky grin. “I’m the leader, remember?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile on your face. Mikey was so Mikey — goofy, possessive, and absolutely confident. It was hard not to laugh at his antics.

Emma caught up with you both, waving you off with a grin. “I’ll see you two later. Don’t kill each other over lunch or something.”

“You’re welcome to join us!” Mikey called after her, but Emma just laughed and shook her head.

“Nah, I think I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Enjoy fighting over where to eat.”

You shot Emma a quick look, mouthing “Thanks for the backup” as she walked off, leaving you with Mikey. He was already pulling you in a direction that you couldn’t quite place.

“So, where are we really going?” you asked, a little more curious now.

Mikey just shrugged, leading you through the streets with that same carefree attitude. “Wherever. I don’t know. As long as you’re with me, I’m good.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, looking at him sideways. “You really are impossible.”

He glanced over at you, his eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Impossible? I prefer the term ‘unpredictably fun.’”

You snorted. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Mikey didn’t let up, pulling you into a nearby cafe. It was one of those quiet little places tucked away from the hustle and bustle. He always seemed to know the best spots. Mikey led you straight to the counter, practically ordering for you without asking. The staff knew him by name — of course they did — and they didn’t even bat an eye at his antics.

When you got your food, Mikey insisted on sitting beside you in the most obnoxious, over-the-top way. He draped his arm around the back of your chair like he was marking his territory, then casually placed his drink next to yours, making sure it was as close as humanly possible.

You glanced at him, half amused and half exhausted from his clinginess. “Mikey, really?”

“What?” he asked innocently, as if nothing was unusual. “You’re my girl. I gotta be close.”

You shook your head, but it was impossible to stay mad at him. Even though his possessiveness was overwhelming, it was... endearing. In his own Mikey way, he really cared.

As you ate, you couldn’t help but let the conversation wander back to the game you and Emma had played earlier. Mikey had been half-listening to your banter with Emma, but now he seemed to be picking up on the teasing.

“So, I’m the most dramatic and the worst cook, huh?” he asked, his voice teasing. “I’m hurt.”

You smirked, giving him a sideways glance. “You know, you could’ve at least tried to cook for me.”

Mikey shrugged as he took a sip of his drink. “I’d burn the kitchen down. You’re lucky I just buy you food instead.”

“Well, if you can’t cook, then what is your talent, Mikey?” you teased.

His grin grew wider. “Everything.” He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice. “But my real talent is making you happy.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the fond smile tugging at your lips. “You’re too much sometimes, you know that?”

“I know,” Mikey replied, his voice a soft hum. He raised his glass and made a toast with you. “But you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You clinked your glass against his, the light reflecting off the surface as you smiled. “Maybe not.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. It was one of those moments where everything felt right — where Mikey’s energy wasn’t overwhelming, just... comforting.

After a few minutes, Mikey suddenly leaned back in his chair, his gaze turning to you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Alright, next round of the game. Who’s the most ridiculous in Toman?”

You smirked, already knowing the answer. “You, obviously.”

Mikey sat up straight, his expression mock-hurt. “Me? Ridiculous? I’ll have you know I’m a pillar of wisdom and sophistication.”

You snorted. “Yeah, sure. You’re like a walking disaster waiting to happen.”

He grinned widely. “Exactly. And you love it.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Mikey had a way of making his chaos seem so charming.

The conversation shifted, and Mikey got more playful, asking questions about who could really take him down in a fight, who would survive a zombie apocalypse, and even who in Toman had the worst fashion sense (to which Mikey had been quick to answer, “Definitely me, because I’m too stylish to even handle.”)

But by the end of the day, as the sun began to set, Mikey had you laughing and smiling in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

His clinginess, his silly personality, and his never-ending ability to make you the center of his world — it was impossible not to fall for him even harder.

“So,” Mikey said as you both strolled back toward the familiar streets of your neighborhood, “about that date... I’m taking you out again soon. No excuses.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not letting me say no, are you?”

“Never,” Mikey replied, his voice full of conviction. “You’re mine.”

With that, you laughed, feeling the warmth of his presence wash over you again. “I guess I am.”

And just like that, Mikey claimed you, not just with his words, but with his laughter, his quirky charm, and that clingy little streak of his that made him impossible to resist.

___________________________________________________________________________

The moonlight bled through the half-open curtains, painting the room in soft silver. Everything was still — the house, the street, the city. Except for Mikey.

He couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t anything new. Sometimes the quiet felt too loud in his head, and he’d lie there with his arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling and thinking about things he didn’t really like to think about.

But tonight was different. You were there. Curled up in his bed with one of his pillows half-hugged and his gang jacket still wrapped around your shoulders.

He hadn’t meant for you to fall asleep in it. You’d just been hanging around after the shrine meeting, teasing him about his bad cooking and trying to steal the last rice cracker. You’d both ended up watching some old anime on his laptop, but while he was talking at full speed, you’d started nodding off.

Now, the only sound in the room was your quiet breathing.

Mikey turned on his side and watched you for a minute. The jacket looked huge on you — sleeves long enough to cover your hands, the collar a bit too wide, but it was warm and soft and unmistakably his.

A lazy smile crept onto his face.

“You look good in my jacket, y’know that?” he whispered, even though you probably weren’t awake. “Too good, actually. Kinda makes me wanna put another one on you. Just to be sure people really get the message.”

You stirred slightly, murmuring something sleepy and unintelligible, pulling the jacket closer around yourself like a blanket.

Mikey reached out, gently brushing some hair away from your face, voice even softer now. “You’re dangerous, [Name]. You make me soft.”

There wasn’t a trace of teasing in his tone now — just something quieter, more real.

“I could fight a hundred guys with a smile on my face, but the second you look at me like that, I forget how to act.”

His hand hovered near yours, not quite touching, just... close.

“You make this world feel like it’s not so heavy sometimes.”

You shifted again, eyes fluttering open for just a second. “...Manjiro?”

Mikey froze for a second, then leaned in a little with a lopsided smile. “Hey. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You blinked slowly, voice drowsy and muffled. “You’re staring.”

“You’re wearing my jacket,” he said simply, like that explained everything.

You gave him a sleepy look. “...You’re weird.”

Mikey laughed softly under his breath. “Takes one to love one.”

You smiled faintly, eyes already drifting closed again. “You’re clingy...”

“And you like it,” he replied, smug.

Before you could argue, Mikey leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, then one to your lips — soft and careful, as if even half-asleep, you were something precious.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered. “Now go back to sleep. I’ll stay up and guard you from the nightmares.”

You mumbled something about “being dramatic,” but Mikey just smiled and pulled the blanket up around your shoulders, letting you melt back into rest with his jacket wrapped tight around you — the clearest mark that you were his.

And in that quiet room, under the weight of moonlight and his own feelings, Mikey finally let himself breathe a little easier.

___________________________________________________________________________

You felt the shift in the bed before you even opened your eyes.

Mikey had moved. Not far, just enough for you to feel the absence of his warmth next to you. The room was still wrapped in shadows, the sky outside that deep pre-dawn blue that only appeared when the world was holding its breath between night and morning.

You mumbled into your pillow. “Manjiro?”

“Right here,” he answered softly from the edge of the bed, where he was lacing up his boots — already dressed in that half-wrinkled, “I woke up like this” biker look he pulled off way too easily.

You yawned and rolled over slowly, still wrapped in his jacket like a cocoon. “Why are you up? It’s not even light out.”

He turned his head slightly, gave you that small smile — the one that looked like he knew something you didn’t. “I couldn’t sleep.”

You blinked at him. “Again?”

He stood up, walked over to your side, crouching by the bed so he was level with your sleepy face. His hair was a little messy, eyes warm but bright with something restless.

“Wanna go for a ride?”

You stared at him, still half-asleep. “Right now?”

“Yeah,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Just you and me. City’s empty this early. You’ll like it.”

You snorted, burying your face into his jacket collar. “You know I was planning to skip school today anyway…”

Mikey grinned like that was exactly the answer he’d expected. “So, that’s a yes?”

You let out a long breath, then dragged yourself upright, hair tousled, eyes still a little heavy. “Yeah, okay. Just let me brush my teeth so you don’t crash the bike from second-hand sleep breath.”

He laughed, actually laughed, and leaned forward to press a kiss to your cheek before you shuffled toward the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, you were sitting behind him on his bike, arms wrapped around his waist, the wind already picking up even though the sun hadn’t risen yet. The city was dead quiet, the roads almost too open — like it all belonged to the two of you.

You pressed your cheek against his back, still a little drowsy but content.

“You sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to keep me all to yourself?” you asked over the hum of the engine.

Mikey didn’t turn his head, but you could hear the grin in his voice. “Absolutely.”

You chuckled, holding on a little tighter. “Figures.”

As the wind rushed past you and the horizon slowly turned from deep blue to gold, Mikey sped up just a little — not recklessly, but enough to make your heart lift.

The city may have been asleep, but you weren’t.

Not with him.

And in that moment, wrapped in his jacket, hands on his ribs, heartbeat steady against your own — it felt like nothing could touch the two of you.

___________________________________________________________________________

The roar of the engine softened as Mikey finally slowed, pulling the bike to a stop near the edge of the wide riverbank. The sun was just beginning to rise, streaks of orange and pale gold bleeding across the sky like watercolors. The city was still far off in the distance, quiet and untouched.

You blinked against the light, stretching as you climbed off the bike, your fingers brushing against his back for balance.

“Where…?” you started to ask, but Mikey just glanced over his shoulder and gave you a half-smile.

“My favorite spot,” he said. “No one really comes out here. ‘Cept Draken sometimes, but he sleeps more than you do.”

You scoffed. “I don’t sleep that much.”

“You slept through me putting your shoes on,” he deadpanned, clearly amused. “Like a toddler.”

You glared at him, but your sleepy pout only made him grin wider. “Okay, fair.”

The river shimmered under the rising sun, its slow current gliding past with a peaceful rhythm. It wasn’t flashy — just still water, a crumbling concrete ledge, and an old vending machine nearby. But the moment you took a breath and let the quiet sink in, you understood.

There was something healing about it. It felt like time slowed down here.

Mikey sat down on the ledge and patted the space beside him. “C’mere.”

You dropped beside him, pulling his jacket tighter around your frame as the breeze picked up. He was still watching the water, eyes distant but soft.

“This is where I come when everything gets too loud,” he said after a long moment. “Gang stuff, family stuff… even my own thoughts sometimes. Out here, it’s just quiet. Real quiet.”

You nodded, not needing to say anything. The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It was grounding.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You ever get that too? Just wanna… vanish for a bit?”

You smiled faintly. “All the time. That’s why I said yes to this, even half-asleep.”

He chuckled. “Guess we both needed it, huh?”

Another silence settled in — comfortable, easy — until Mikey turned to face you completely.

“You really do look good in my jacket,” he murmured again, but this time with more meaning behind it. “Like you belong in it. Like you belong with me.”

You tilted your head. “That a confession, Manjiro?”

He grinned. “No, that was a statement. The confession happened when I stole that kiss back at the school.”

You laughed under your breath. “Right. Forgot how bold you are.”

“I’m just honest,” he said, eyes never leaving yours now. “I want you in my life. Every day. In my jacket, on my bike, next to me at meetings — all of it. So yeah, maybe I’m clingy. But I’ve already decided.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused and touched. “Decided what?”

He leaned in just a little, voice low but firm. “That you’re mine.”

There it was again — Mikey’s bluntness. He never said things halfway. But his voice carried something steadier now. No joke, no teasing — just truth.

You looked at him for a moment, heart a little full, then gently rested your head on his shoulder.

“Took you long enough to say it like that,” you whispered.

Mikey let out a soft breath of a laugh, his arm coming around your waist. “Yeah, yeah. I get there eventually.”

You stayed like that for a while, watching the sun rise over the water, wrapped in his warmth, the silence holding you both in place. And even though the world would get loud again — school, gang drama, real life — this moment was yours.

Just you and Mikey, where it was quiet.

Where everything made sense.

___________________________________________________________________________

You were both quiet again, the sun now fully risen and casting a warm, golden glow across the water. Mikey’s arm was still lazily draped around your waist, and your head rested lightly against his shoulder. It was one of those rare, slow mornings where the whole world seemed to hush just for you two.

Then, softly—almost like it slipped out—Mikey murmured, “I wanna marry you someday.”

You blinked, lifting your head slightly to see if he was joking. But he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was still fixed on the water, eyes unreadable for a second. There was no smirk, no laugh waiting behind his lips. Just quiet certainty.

“I mean it,” he continued, a little softer now. “Not right away or anything. Just… I’ve never really thought about the future like that. Not until you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. He didn’t say things like this often — not without a joke in his tone, not without that cheeky grin. But now he was just... honest. Serious in a way that made your breath catch.

You looked down for a second, cheeks flushing with warmth you couldn’t hide even if you wanted to. Then you smiled, wide and real, and reached for his hand.

“I can’t wait for that,” you whispered, eyes shining. “You, me, someday? That sounds perfect.”

Mikey finally looked at you then — and he beamed. Like he’d just won the world’s biggest prize. He kissed your hand, then stood up and offered his, the jacket falling perfectly into place over your shoulders again.

“Come on,” he said, that teasing sparkle returning to his eyes. “Let’s get breakfast. Or whatever meal it is when you skip school before it even starts.”

You laughed, taking his hand. “Sounds like a plan, fiancé.”

His grin? Dangerous.

“You better not say that around Draken. He’ll faint.”

___________________________________________________________________________

You were walking back through a narrow side street, heading toward a place Mikey swore had the “best melonpan in Tokyo,” when you turned a corner and—

“Oi,” a rough voice called out. “That jacket…”

You both paused.

A small group of older teens — four, maybe five guys — loitered near the vending machines, all wearing mismatched leather and chains. They weren’t Toman. Not even close.

One of them, clearly the leader, stepped forward with a sneer.

“That’s the Tokyo Manji Gang’s uniform, isn’t it?” he said, looking straight at you. “Don’t tell me they’ve got little girlfriends doing their laundry now.”

Mikey didn’t flinch. But he did step just slightly to the side, like he was getting ready to put himself between you and them.

You placed a hand lightly on his arm.

“I got this,” you said calmly.

He blinked. “What?”

You shrugged off his jacket slowly, folded it once, and handed it to him. Then you stepped forward, cracking your knuckles.

The leader scoffed. “What the hell are you—?”

You moved before he could finish the sentence — ducking low, sweeping his legs out with a sharp, practiced kick. He hit the ground with a surprised grunt, and before the others could even react, you’d already dropped two more with precise, fluid strikes.

Mikey stood there — wide-eyed, holding his own jacket — watching as you took out the last guy with a clean elbow to the gut and a twist that sent him sprawling.

You brushed your hands off casually, turned, and walked back to him like it was nothing.

“Sorry,” you said, slipping his jacket back on, still a little breathless. “Didn’t wanna get it dirty.”

Mikey stared at you.

Then blinked.

Then grinned — slow and completely floored.

“…Okay,” he said, sounding slightly dazed. “That was… hot.”

You laughed, grabbing his hand again. “Come on, melonpan, remember?”

He followed you wordlessly for a moment, then muttered under his breath, “I have to marry you.”

You just smiled to yourself, tugging him along.

___________________________________________________________________________

The smell of warm melonpan filled the air as you and Mikey sat down at a small, nearly-empty café just outside the neighborhood. The place had a cozy, nostalgic feel — the kind of place that wasn’t flashy, just serving good food. Mikey slouched a little in his seat, looking content, but there was still something in his eyes — a curiosity that hadn’t left since the moment you’d knocked out those guys in the alley.

You sipped your drink, watching him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

Mikey leaned forward, his eyes wide with genuine interest. “You really didn’t even break a sweat. And it wasn’t like you were messing around either. You took ‘em down like… you’ve done it a thousand times.”

You bit your lip, setting your cup down. “I’ve had my share of… situations. You know, self-defense stuff.”

He nodded slowly, his face softening. “Yeah, but... why didn’t you tell me?”

You smiled a little, leaning back in your chair. “I guess I didn’t think it was that important.”

“Important?” Mikey leaned in, voice getting a little more intense. “You kicked their asses! You’re not just some random girl in my life, [Name]. You’re, well, you’re my girl and I… don’t like people messing with you.”

You felt your heart flutter a bit at the possessiveness in his voice. Even if it came across a bit bluntly, you knew it came from a good place.

“Don’t worry, I can handle myself,” you teased, “But I’ll keep the really big fights for you.”

Mikey paused for a moment, his eyes softening, and he grinned. “I’m still amazed. Like… that was amazing. Seriously, I wasn’t even expecting that.”

You laughed, feeling a bit embarrassed, but also proud of your skills. “You never asked, Mikey. You just assumed I couldn’t take care of myself.”

He pouted for a second, clearly teasing. “Well, I’m a little slow sometimes.”

“Just a little?” You raised an eyebrow, and Mikey burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay, a lot. But still, that was so cool,” he said, still looking at you in awe. “I gotta say, I like knowing you’ve got my back, even when I don’t see it coming.”

“Well,” you smiled softly, “we’re in this together. Always.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The shrine was the usual spot for Toman meetings — surrounded by the tranquil beauty of the stone steps and the rising mist from the morning dew. The gang was already gathering, sitting on the steps and the edge of the stone platforms, awaiting Mikey’s arrival.

The air was cool, the distant sound of city life buzzing in the background, but at this time of morning, the world felt quiet. Almost serene, in a way.

You had arrived with Mikey, still wearing his jacket, your presence drawing a few curious glances from the gang as you approached.

Mikey seemed unbothered by it. If anything, he was grinning, his arm slung casually over your shoulder. His pride was practically radiating off of him, and you could tell he was practically bursting to share what had happened earlier.

“Alright, alright,” Mikey began as you both reached the group, a playful edge to his voice. “So, before we get into anything important… I gotta say something.”

Draken, sitting at the top of the stairs, shot Mikey a look. “What now?”

“I’ve gotta introduce you guys to the best fighter in the gang.” Mikey’s grin was mischievous. “The one who wiped the floor with five random punks today. [Name].”

There was a beat of silence before everyone burst out into laughter. Takemichi, ever the worried one, was the first to speak.

“You’re joking, right? There’s no way—”

Mikey’s grin only widened. “No joke. She took them down like she was born for it.”

The others turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief, and you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “It wasn’t a big deal, guys. Just some guys talking crap.”

Draken, not one to back down from a challenge, raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re telling me you just knocked out five guys?”

You shrugged, feeling the nervous tension of all their stares. “I’ve had some training, that’s all.”

Emma, who had tagged along after your girls’ trip, chuckled as she leaned against a nearby pillar. “She’s being modest.”

“Self-defense, huh?” Mitsuya asked, clearly intrigued, eyeing you with a mix of respect and curiosity. “That’s impressive.”

You gave a slight nod. “Yeah, well, I’ve had to learn a few things. Just in case.”

The air shifted slightly — more respect, more admiration — and even Draken gave you an approving nod. “Guess we’ve got a real badass on our hands.”

Mikey, still standing next to you, looked absolutely thrilled. His eyes sparkled as he turned to the group. “You guys know how I like my gang, right? Strong, loyal, but also…” He let the words hang in the air, his grin widening. “...Not afraid to kick some ass. And now we’ve got a legit fighter on our side.”

The boys seemed impressed, and as the conversation moved forward, Mikey’s pride never seemed to wane. He kept leaning closer to you, occasionally nudging you with his elbow or stealing a glance at you, like he couldn’t stop showing off his girl.

It wasn’t long before Mikey finally sat down, pulling you onto the step beside him.

The gang had fallen into their usual chatter, but Mikey’s attention was still on you, his fingers lightly brushing against your hand. You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’ve really been riding the high from this, huh?”

Mikey grinned, looking almost like a kid on Christmas. “You’re my girl. Of course I’m proud.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was warm from his excitement. “I wasn’t trying to impress anyone.”

“Well, you didn’t have to,” Mikey said, his voice low but with that familiar cheekiness. “You’ve already impressed me.”

Before you could respond, Draken walked over, looking between you both with that big, knowing grin on his face.

“Alright, Mikey,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You’ve got your fighter. Now we just gotta keep her from running the whole damn gang, huh?”

The others, who had gathered near the steps, started chuckling.

Mikey just smirked, his eyes never leaving you. “Nah. She’s just gonna make sure no one messes with us.”

You shot Mikey a playful look. “You’re really not going to let this go, huh?”

“Not a chance,” Mikey said, squeezing your hand gently.

___________________________________________________________________________

As the meeting began to progress, more questions started popping up. The group was still buzzing about your fight. You hadn’t expected this kind of attention, but it was fun to see everyone’s reactions.

“Alright, but seriously, what kind of training are we talking about here?” Takemichi asked, leaning in as if trying to figure out your secret. “You can’t just become that good overnight.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Boxing, some martial arts… a little bit of everything. Just wanted to make sure I can protect myself.”

Emma, always the one with a mischievous edge, nudged you with a smile. “You know, Mikey’s a little territorial, huh? Think he’ll keep the boys in line for you?”

“Stop it, Emma,” Mikey grumbled, though his eyes were still twinkling as he shot a look at you. “I don’t need to keep anyone in line. Not when she’s got it handled.”

Draken just shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “You guys are something else. Never thought I’d see Mikey all proud of his girl like this.”

Mikey puffed out his chest, not in arrogance but in pure pride. “She’s not just any girl. She’s my girl.”

The entire group seemed to settle into a comfortable quiet, respect mingling with that familiar teasing atmosphere. Mikey wasn’t just proud of you for your strength. It was everything you were — the way you fit into Toman, how effortlessly you blended into their chaotic world, yet still stood out. And Mikey? He was absolutely, unapologetically in love with that.

You leaned into his shoulder, letting the peaceful quiet settle around you again.

"Guess we're all in this together now," you murmured, a slight grin tugging at your lips.

"Always," Mikey said, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Now, let’s get this meeting over with.

__________________________________________________________________________

The meeting had officially fallen apart.

It started small — just you and Emma whispering to each other at the edge of the group while Draken tried his best to keep the meeting serious. But then you laughed. Loud enough that heads turned.

That’s when Mikey narrowed his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, lounging beside you but already suspicious.

Emma leaned over, hand cupped around her mouth. “We’re playing ‘Toman Superlatives.’”

“...What?”

You grinned. “It’s like… ‘who would survive a zombie apocalypse,’ or ‘who has main character energy.’ That kinda thing.”

“You’re doing this during my meeting?”

“It’s Draken’s meeting,” Emma corrected.

Draken, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want it either.”

“Carry on,” Mikey said, waving a hand like a bored emperor — but leaning closer like he very much wanted to hear your answers.

Emma smirked. “Okay, okay—next one. Who’s most likely to cry at a sad movie?”

You pointed. “Takemichi.”

“WHY ME?!” Takemichi shouted from the sidelines.

Everyone nodded.

“Okay but true,” Chifuyu said, patting his back. “You cried at Spirited Away, bro.”

“It was emotional!” Takemichi protested.

Emma grinned. “Alright, who gives the best hugs?”

You tapped your chin, eyes flicking across the group. “Draken. He’s tall and warm. I feel like he smells nice.”

Draken blinked. “...Thanks?”

Mikey’s head whipped toward you. “Excuse me?!”

“You don’t smell like anything, Mikey,” you said sweetly.

“I smell like power and mystery,” he deadpanned.

“Power and mystery smells like gasoline and melon bread,” you teased.

The gang cackled. Even Draken cracked a smile.

Emma was dying, holding onto your arm. “Okay, okay—this one’s good. Who would be the most dramatic if their crush didn’t text back right away?”

Everyone pointed at Mikey.

He looked personally offended. “ME?! I don’t even text! I show up.”

“Exactly,” you said. “You showed up at my classroom window once because I didn’t answer.”

“You left me on read,” he said defensively.

“It was five minutes, Mikey.”

“Too long.”

More laughter rippled through the gang, and for once, even Mitsuya chuckled behind his usual calm smile.

Emma leaned in again, eyes twinkling. “Who’s most likely to flirt without realizing it?”

“Smiley,” you and Emma said in sync.

“He absolutely knows what he’s doing,” Mitsuya added. “He just pretends he doesn’t.”

Smiley raised his hands innocently. “I’m charming. It’s a problem.”

Mikey leaned toward you again. “Okay, your turn. Who would you call first if you were in trouble?”

You paused.

The teasing faded for just a second. You looked at Mikey — the way he was watching you, clearly waiting for the answer.

Your smile softened. “You.”

He blinked. “Me?”

“You’d be there in a second,” you said. “No questions asked. No matter what.”

The silence that followed was warm. No one teased. No one joked.

Mikey’s expression relaxed, his cheeky energy softening just enough to let the affection shine through.

“Damn right,” he said quietly, reaching out to tug the sleeve of his jacket up on you again. “That’s what you’ve got me for.”

Emma leaned against you, smiling. “Okay, but you still didn’t pick him for hottest.”

“I am the hottest,” Mikey muttered.

“Still Mitsuya,” you said under your breath.

“I heard that!”

The boys laughed again, and you nestled into Mikey’s side, his arm curling around your waist like it was second nature.

The meeting may have started serious, but this — these moments, with jokes, teasing, and your fingers brushing against his — this was what family felt like in Toman.

And you were finally, completely part of it.

___________________________________________________________________________

The meeting finally broke apart, boys peeling off in pairs, loud voices fading into the evening air as they headed toward their bikes. You and Mikey lingered behind, walking down the long stone steps with his hand loosely curled around your wrist.

He hadn’t said much since the game ended.

That should’ve been your first clue.

You glanced at him — he wasn’t pouting exactly, but his mouth was pressed in that little line it made when he was pretending something didn’t bother him. His eyes were fixed ahead, lashes low, but you could feel the shift in energy like static.

“…You good?”

“Yep.”

Liar.

You stepped in front of him, halting him just before the last step. “You’re mad I didn’t say you were the hottest, aren’t you?”

He looked away with exaggerated disinterest. “I said I’m fine.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Manjirō.”

He finally looked at you — pout fully formed now. “I’m your boyfriend and you said Mitsuya.”

You tried not to smile. “Because Mitsuya is handsome.”

“Yeah, but I’m me,” he said, as if that alone should’ve won every category. “Your me.”

You laughed softly, stepping closer and brushing his hair back from his eyes. “You want me to kiss it better?”

His ears turned pink. “...Maybe.”

So you did.

Right there on the bottom step, you leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to the corner of his pouty mouth — then another, right on his lips. Slow and warm and full of something that made his hand tighten around your wrist again.

When you pulled back, his cheeks were a little red.

“Better?” you whispered.

He hummed. “One more. Just in case.”

You laughed again, but gave it to him — and this time, he pulled you with him as he turned and walked toward his bike, hand still wrapped firmly around your wrist like he wasn’t letting go ever again.

His motorbike was leaned against a tree near the edge of the shrine path, moonlight glinting off the chrome. You’d barely turned your head to look at it before Mikey tugged you in, sitting on the seat and pulling you between his legs with ease.

You rested your hands on his shoulders. “We’re not going yet, are we?”

“Nah,” he mumbled, arms sliding around your waist. “Just wanna sit with you.”

He leaned forward, head pressing to your stomach, sighing like he’d finally gotten what he wanted. Your fingers threaded through his hair automatically, soft and slow.

“You’re really that offended?”

“I’m not offended,” he muttered into your hoodie. “I just wanted you to say I’m hot.”

“You’re hot,” you said without missing a beat.

“Too late.”

“Mikey.”

He looked up, chin resting against your ribs. “I forgive you,” he said seriously. “But only if you ride with me tomorrow.”

You grinned. “Was planning to.”

His smile softened, hands still locked around your waist, holding you there like you might float away.

“You look good like this,” he said quietly. “With my jacket. With me.”

Your heart stuttered — again. He always did that. Just when you thought he was done being serious, he slipped in something so soft it nearly knocked the breath out of you.

“I like being yours, y’know,” you whispered.

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

You bent down, kissed his forehead gently. “Yeah.”

He looked like he was trying not to smile too wide — but failing.

“Then stay a little longer.”

You didn’t need to answer. You just curled into his lap, his jacket big enough to cover you both from the cool night air, the sounds of engines echoing in the distance, and the warmth of Mikey’s arms around you making the shrine feel like your own little world.

___________________________________________________________________________

The sky was still painted in sleepy pinks and quiet oranges when your phone buzzed.

[Mikey💀] "Outside. Get on. We’re skipping school."

You blinked at the message, then peeked out your window.

There he was.

Leaning against his prized motorbike, arms crossed, the wind tossing his blond hair slightly, looking way too proud of himself for someone who probably hadn’t slept more than four hours. His uniform jacket hung lazily off his shoulders, and his helmet dangled from two fingers like a promise.

Of trouble. And something softer.

You didn’t even hesitate.

By the time you slipped out your door, Mikey’s eyes lit up like you were the sunrise itself.

He held out the helmet immediately. “You took too long. I almost came up and carried you out.”

“You would’ve,” you said flatly.

“I should’ve,” he said, helping you clip the strap under your chin, his fingers brushing your jaw like he had to touch you.

“Where are we going?”

He smirked. “Wherever you want. But first, we ride.”

On the Road – Wind and Freedom

There was something about riding with Mikey that didn’t feel like real life. Maybe it was the way he drove — fast but sure, reckless but safe in his own weird way. Maybe it was the way the city blurred past, or how your arms fit perfectly around his middle, your cheek pressed against his back.

But most of all, it was the silence between you — warm, unspoken understanding that didn’t need filling.

The city faded. The buildings shrank. And then you reached it.

The Waterfront – His Favorite Place

The same quiet spot from before — the wide edge of the river where the world seemed to pause. The water stretched out smooth and silver under the early morning light, and the breeze was gentle, lifting Mikey’s hair as he cut the engine.

He parked, leaned the bike gently down, and held your hand as you hopped off — not letting go even when you were both standing.

“This place’s been mine forever,” he said softly, tugging you with him toward the edge. “But now it feels like it’s yours too.”

You smiled. “You always bring me to the quiet places.”

He looked at you — really looked. “You’re my quiet place.”

Your heart squeezed.

Then, as if he realized how serious that sounded, he added quickly, “And because you're hot. I wanna keep you where no one else sees you.”

You shoved his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m yours,” he said smugly, sitting on the concrete ledge and pulling you into his lap without even asking.

You settled there, warm in the morning sun, his arms wound lazily around your waist again.

“You’re clingier than usual.”

He nodded against your shoulder. “Didn’t get enough time with you last night.”

You tilted your head. “We sat on your bike for almost two hours.”

“And it still wasn’t enough.”

You kissed the top of his head, your fingers playing with his hair.

He tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded with sleep and affection. “Marry me.”

You blinked. “You’re doing this again?”

He grinned. “I meant it. Sooner or later, I’m locking you down.”

You leaned in and kissed him, slow and sure — then pulled back just far enough to whisper, “Then I hope it’s sooner.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The breeze rolled in gentle waves, brushing across your skin like a whisper. Mikey rested his head on your shoulder, legs dangling over the concrete ledge where the river lapped below. For a long moment, he was quiet. Not out of awkwardness — just content.

But you could feel something stirring beneath the stillness.

He was thinking.

You didn’t rush him. Not with Mikey. When he was ready, he spoke.

“…Y’know when I was a kid,” he started, voice low, “I thought I had to be the strongest person alive.”

You turned your head slightly, eyes on his profile.

He wasn’t smiling now.

“I thought if I wasn’t strong… I’d lose everything. My brother. My gang. My people. So I decided I’d never show fear. Never slow down. Just keep pushing.”

You stayed quiet, letting him speak. Letting him be.

He shifted slightly, arms still around your waist but his hands resting in his lap now.

“But you…” he said, almost like he was thinking out loud. “You don’t ask me to be strong. Or scary. You don’t even look at me like that.”

You swallowed. “Like what?”

“Like the rest of them do,” he said, glancing at you. “Like I’m some kind of unstoppable thing.”

You tilted your head. “You are strong, Mikey. But you’re also… kind. And funny. And stubborn. And incredibly dramatic.”

He smirked a little at that.

“And when you’re with me,” you continued, brushing your thumb across his knuckles, “you don’t have to be anything. Not the Invincible Mikey. Not the leader. Just… Manjirō.”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he leaned in slowly and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s why I wanna marry you someday,” he murmured. “Not just ‘cause I love you. But ‘cause with you… I’m not afraid to just be me.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a second heartbeat.

You kissed him, soft and slow and full of every unspoken promise.

When you pulled back, you smiled against his lips. “Then I’ll wait for that day. As long as you want. I’m already yours, Manjirō.”

His arms slid tight around you again, pulling you flush against him as he buried his face into your neck with a sigh.

“Can we stay here a little longer?” he mumbled.

You rested your chin on his head. “Yeah. As long as you need.”

And so you sat — wrapped in each other, in the quiet, in the safety of being seen — as the river flowed and the morning sun painted the world golden.

___________________________________________________________________________

It had been quiet for a while.

The kind of warm, sleepy silence only people who are deeply comfortable with each other can share. The sky was fully awake now, soft blue stretching above you, while the city remained distant, forgotten.

Mikey still had you wrapped up in his arms on his lap, chin tucked onto your shoulder like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

And then, out of nowhere—

“Okay. So if we had twins…”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” Mikey said, completely casual, like you’d been having this conversation. “If we had twins. A boy and a girl.”

You turned to look at him. “Where is this coming from?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “I think we’d make cute babies. It’s a valid thought.”

Your face burned. “Mikey—”

“Manjirō,” he corrected smugly.

You lightly smacked his chest. “You’re skipping way too many steps.”

He leaned his chin in his hand dramatically. “Don’t act like you didn’t just promise to marry me.”

You laughed, trying to hide your flustered smile. “Okay, fine. Twins. What are their names?”

“Glad you asked,” he said, sitting up straighter like he’d been waiting for this. “For the boy—Shin.”

“…Shin?”

“After Shinichiro. But just ‘Shin.’ Cool and strong. Simple. Like, ‘Oh no, Shin’s mad again.’ That kind of vibe.”

Your heart clenched a little at the mention of his brother, but the fondness in his voice made you smile.

“That’s actually… really sweet.”

“I know.” Then he grinned. “And for the girl…”

“Oh no.”

“Her name’s gonna be Pudding.”

You choked.

“Mikey—!”

“Manjirō,” he said again, grinning wider.

“You are not naming our child Pudding.”

“Why not?” he shrugged. “It’s cute. She’d be cute. Everyone loves pudding.”

You gave him your best unimpressed stare.

“…Fine,” he said with a fake sigh. “I’ll compromise. Her nickname can be Pudding. Her full name can be something like… Hikari. Or Yuzu.”

You blinked. “Yuzu’s really cute…”

He lit up. “Right?! Yuzu and Shin. Boom. Perfect.”

“Shin and Yuzu,” you repeated under your breath, testing the way it sounded. “That’s actually… adorable.”

Mikey leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky with the most self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Told you. I’m a genius.”

You glanced at him, at the messy hair and the way the morning light caught on his lashes, at the soft curve of his grin and the boyish glint in his eye.

“…You’d actually be a good dad,” you said, quieter than you meant to.

His smirk faded into something gentler.

“Only ‘cause I’d have you,” he said.

And just like that, the teasing melted back into something warmer. Realer.

He pulled you back into his lap again, hugging you like you were already his future, not just his present.

And maybe… you were.

___________________________________________________________________________

The same riverbank.

Years had passed, but Mikey still liked to come here. Still parked his bike at the edge of the slope, still kicked back with his hands behind his head, like he was king of the world and the sky existed just to amuse him.

But now, the boy was a man.

Still lazy-eyed and sun-touched, still with wind in his hair and that devil-may-care smirk — but something in him was more solid now. A spine of quiet strength. Eyes that had seen a little more but lost less. This time, he’d held onto what mattered.

And what mattered… was currently leaning her head on his shoulder, laughing at one of his stupid jokes.

You.

“You remember the first time I dragged you out here?” he asked, voice low but grinning.

“Dragged? I remember you begged me for a bike ride because you couldn’t sleep.”

“I did not beg,” he scoffed. “I persuaded.”

“Sure, Manjirō.”

He smirked, then nudged your temple with his own. “You were so nervous that night.”

“You tried to name our imaginary daughter Pudding.”

“She’s still on the list.”

You laughed, and for a while, you both just watched the river shimmer. The way it had back then. Before everything got bigger. Before Toman became a name whispered in every back alley with both fear and awe. Before Mikey became a living legend.

But with you, he was still the same dork who stole your fries and your heart.

So when he shifted beside you and said, “Close your eyes,” you did.

No questions. Just trust.

You felt him move. Heard the rustle of fabric. Then silence.

And then:

“Okay. Open.”

You turned — and your breath caught.

Mikey was sitting cross-legged in front of you, holding a ring between his fingers like it wasn’t heavy with meaning. Like it was just a ring. But his eyes… told a different story.

He wasn’t nervous.

He was glowing.

“I’m not gonna do some long speech,” he said. “I think you already know.”

He reached forward, gently taking your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles like he was trying to memorize them again.

“I love you. Like, idiotically much. Always have. Always will. I wanna eat breakfast with you every morning, and argue about baby names, and hold your hand when we’re eighty and I’ve got bad knees and saggy cheeks.”

You let out a teary laugh, but he was dead serious now.

“I wanna be your husband,” he said. “Not someday. Now.”

Then, softly:

“Marry me.”

The words settled between you like sunlight — warm and real and undeniable.

You nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes. Manjirō… yes.”

And that was it. He slipped the ring on like he’d always known where it belonged. Then pulled you in, kissed you like the world could end right there and he’d still be smiling.

Afterward, still holding you against his chest, he whispered:

“You’re gonna look so good in my last name.”

___________________________________________________________________________

If you thought being Mikey’s girlfriend was eventful, being his fiancée was like trying to plan a royal wedding during a gang meeting.

Which, unfortunately… was kind of exactly what it turned into.

You told Emma first — of course you did.

The moment you showed her the ring, her scream echoed across the café.

“HE FINALLY DID IT?!”

You barely had time to nod before she threw her arms around you, squealing like she’d just won the lottery. Which, to be fair, she kind of felt like she had.

“I’m going to plan everything,” she declared, already grabbing napkins to sketch ideas. “No—Mitsuya and I are going to plan everything. You’re going to have the most beautiful wedding Tokyo has ever seen.”

“Emma, I love you, but I don’t want to wear something with feathers and glitter—”

“Tasteful glitter,” she corrected.

Later, you told the rest of Toman at a casual gathering Mikey claimed would be “lowkey.”

Spoiler: it was not lowkey.

Mikey, with his usual subtlety, dropped the news mid-lunch like, “Oh yeah, I proposed. She said yes. Pass the soy sauce.”

Takemichi nearly choked on his noodles.

Smiley and Angry immediately started arguing about who would cry first at the wedding.

Draken just smirked and clapped Mikey on the back. “About time.”

Mitsuya pulled out a notebook. “When’s the fitting?”

You turned to Mikey. “You didn’t even ask if I wanted a big wedding.”

He shrugged, completely shameless. “Didn’t think you’d say no. Besides, if you did, we’d just ride off somewhere and do it alone.”

Everyone laughed—except you, because you knew he meant it.

__________________________________________________________________________

Your phone buzzed that night. A text from Mikey.

“You still wanna do this, right?”

You smiled, heart warm.

“Absolutely. Why?”

“Dunno. Just… can’t believe I get to marry you.”

You bit your lip, feeling the butterflies stir.

“You’re soft.”

“Only for you.”

“Go to sleep, Manjirō.”

“Can’t. Too excited.”

You stared at his last message for a moment. Then texted back:

“Me too.”

___________________________________________________________________________

The sun was golden over the shrine, soft and slow as it spilled across the worn stone steps. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, the air filled with faint traces of incense and the rustle of silk. It was traditional, timeless — just like Mikey wanted it.

Just like he always dreamed.

He stood with his hands tucked in the sleeves of his black montsuki, embroidered in silver with the Tokyo Manji insignia hidden within the family crest on the back. His hair was loose today, a little windswept, soft strands falling over his eyes.

He looked calm. He looked ready.

But his thumb was brushing circles against the inside of his sleeve.

Draken leaned in from behind him. “You nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” Mikey said.

“You’re twitching.”

“I’m not twitching,” he said. Then blinked. “…Okay. Maybe a little.”

Draken smirked. “Good. Means you actually care.”

Mikey rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it.

He was nervous.

Because you were everything.

___________________________________________________________________________

You were standing in front of the mirror as Emma adjusted the delicate hairpin at the side of your head, a deep breath caught somewhere in your chest.

“Okay, look at me,” she said, stepping back. “You are… breathtaking.”

You turned, eyes wide and shimmering. The white uchikake you wore shimmered with a subtle pattern of cranes and chrysanthemums — hand-sewn by Mitsuya, of course — and your obi was fastened in a delicate lotus bow, soft pink threading woven into it for good luck.

“Emma,” you whispered. “It’s really happening.”

She smiled, misty-eyed. “I know. He’s really doing it. You broke the curse, you know?”

You blinked. “Curse?”

“The Manjiro ‘never-gonna-marry-because-he-says-he’s-married-to-his-bike’ curse. You shattered it.”

You both laughed, clutching each other’s hands tightly.

Then, the doors opened.

The shrine was quiet — not tense, just reverent.

Toman members lined both sides of the main path in formal black. No one cracked jokes. Even Smiley looked serious. Even Baji’s ghost, if he were there, would’ve stayed quiet out of respect.

Because when Mikey turned and saw you walking toward him — radiant, sure, the very image of love and calm and everything he’d never deserved but somehow got — the whole world stilled.

His breath caught.

His heart ached in the best way.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling until Draken nudged him.

“You look like a kid who just got all the candy.”

He ignored him.

Because you had reached him. You were standing in front of him. You were about to become his wife.

And Mikey, for the first time in a long time, didn’t feel like the leader of anything.

He just felt yours.

The priest read the words. You exchanged sake cups. You bowed together before the altar.

And when Mikey turned to face you again, his voice was soft — but his words landed like thunder.

“I was a storm before you,” he said, not caring about tradition. “But you… you make me want peace. Every day. And I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this.”

You didn’t even try to stop the tears. You smiled through them.

“I already feel like your wife,” you whispered. “But I’m so, so happy to be it in name too.”

He kissed you then — traditional timing be damned — and the crowd broke into quiet, reverent cheers.

Toman, at his back.

His future, in his arms.

___________________________________________________________________________

The room was quiet.

Not silent — the sound of water in the garden beyond the sliding doors still trickled peacefully, and the soft rustle of silk and linen moved as Mikey sat behind you, undoing the intricate layers of your wedding attire with slow, careful hands.

Neither of you had spoken much since the reception ended.

He didn’t need to.

The moment you stepped through the door of the traditional inn he’d chosen — away from the speeches, the dancing, the playful shouting of drunk Toman boys — Mikey had taken your hand and held it like it was the only thing grounding him to the earth.

“You’re really mine now,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to the back of your shoulder.

You turned in his arms, hands against his chest. “I was always yours, Manjirō.”

He looked at you like he still couldn’t believe it. Like even now, after everything, you were a dream he hadn’t quite earned. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the last traces of makeup, the last glitter from Emma’s wild ceremony touch-ups.

“You looked beautiful today,” he said. “But not as beautiful as you do right now.”

You smiled, eyes shining. “You said that during the vows.”

“I meant it then, too.”

And then, softly:

“Can I hold you? Like… really hold you?”

You nodded, and the two of you lay down together on the futon. No rush. No urgency.

Just the weight of forever, finally within reach.

He kissed you slow. Not like the goofy kisses he’d steal at the shrine, or the teasing ones on your neck during bike rides. This was different. Intentional. Reverent.

He kissed you like a vow.

Fingers laced with yours. Arms around your waist. His voice in your ear, quiet and slightly rough:

“You’re my home.”

Morning came gently.

He was already awake, blinking at the ceiling with your hand resting over his bare chest, thumb twitching slightly in your sleep.

He glanced at you.

His wife.

His light.

His everything.

“Still here,” he murmured, smiling faintly.

You stirred, squinting at him. “Where else would I go?”

Mikey grinned, leaning in to steal a lazy, sleepy kiss. “Just checking.”

The years ahead stretched out wide and open — with Toman standing strong, with people he trusted at his side, and with you curled up next to him in his arms. For once, the future didn’t look heavy.

It looked like peace.

It looked like breakfast together in oversized shirts and soft hair and his jacket hanging next to your coat on the wall. Like you teasing him for talking in his sleep. Like picking baby names again on the balcony in the evening. Like safety.

And every now and then — when the world outside got loud — he’d pull you close and murmur in your ear like he did on the first night:

“Say it again.”

And you would.

“I love you, Manjirō.”

Always.

[rosiebbydoll]

The Right Time - Sukuna x Reader - Chp. 3

Chp. 2 - Chp. 3 - Chp. 4

summary: Your life was blissfully chaotic. Being a single mom and raising a daughter with a bigger attitude than yours was a challenge, but you love every second of it. You decided to move to the city to be closer to work. You’ve been at your new apartment for about three weeks now and everything has been great. Until, your annoyingly hot neighbor decided to open his mouth.

cw: female reader, modern au (no curses), 18+, enemies to friends to lovers, mechanic!sukuna x librarian!reader, slow burn, fluff, smut, crack, angst, toxicity, Sukuna is emotionally constipated, Nobora is readers daughter, Choso and Yuji are Sukuna’s nephews, Toji is a present father in this, LOTS of family fluff, manga spoilers? (more tags will be added)

wc: 10.2 k (I got carried away)

chp warning: Toji & Sukuna pov, fluff, tension, angst, crack, sexual content, toxic traits (from reader & Sukuna), mentions of violence, the kids being cute

a/n: time to meet the baby daddy and play uno! enjoy! <3

Saturday morning's hangover had been absolutely brutal - a fitting punishment for your late-night adventures. You'd woken up to find Toji passed out on your couch, his muscular frame sprawled awkwardly because he's too big for normal furniture. He was drooling all over your fancy throw pillows that you spent forever picking out. The sight would have been amusing if your head wasn't pounding like a bass drum. So, you just trudged slowly to the bathroom to search for medicine to ease the hangover away.

To add to the mess, you were still wearing Sukuna's shirt like some twisted walk-of-shame souvenir. The memory of that infuriating wink and the way his scent lingered on the fabric came rushing back with nauseating clarity. You were dreading the moment you would have to return it back to him. It was honestly more embarrassing he saw you completely wasted. Returning a shirt from a one night stand would have been nothing compared to the events of Friday night.

Toji didn't say much that morning. It didn’t feel like he was walking on eggshells or anything. He just knew you were truly upset and sometimes words don't solve shit. A simple "sorry" wouldn't fix anything, so instead, he'd been trying to make it up to you in his own way. Helping with errands, bringing you coffee, doing all the little things a best friend should.

It wasn’t like Toji had actually done anything wrong. The irritation came from somewhere messier—the fact that he was friends with the one person you decided to be your mortal enemy. Yeah, maybe that sounded dramatic, but in that exact moment, it felt like the entire world was conspiring against you. For the longest, it had been just you, Toji, and the kids against everything else, and that made it feel both comforting and isolating at the same time. When you spotted Toji walking up the stairs, something in your chest tightened, and for a brief second, despite all the noise around you, you felt utterly, painfully alone.

There was no need for words about what happened—none were said, and none were needed. Yet Toji understood deep down that your anger wasn’t real, not the kind that lasts. When you woke up and quietly made breakfast for the two of you, it spoke volumes more than any apology ever could. In moments like that, silence carried a weight no conversation ever could, filling the space between you with a quiet understanding.

That was four days ago.

Now it's Wednesday, and you're even more pissed at Toji than before. Poor guy landed himself in the same boat as Sukuna. This time around it's honestly your own fault- actually no, it's not. The motherfucker should have had his door closed. Basic office etiquette, really.

You'd left work early today to have Toji look at your car. The old Honda had been struggling to start most mornings, requiring a jump just to sputter to life. You'd been avoiding the inevitable repairs for months until Toji finally convinced you to let him take a look. After much hesitation, you'd agreed.

It’s not that you don’t trust Toji with your car—he’s reliable, and when he’s focused, he knows his stuff. But there’s a reason that man ended up a landlord and not a full-time mechanic. His “fix-it” methods sometimes feel more like experiments, and you’ve learned to brace yourself for whatever creative solution he’s about to try next. Still, when it comes down to it, you’d rather have his questionable skills than having to pay for it.

So, here you are on a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, heading to Toji's office at the apartment complex. You'd texted him four times already to confirm it was okay to come by, and he'd responded with his typical one-word answers.

He's always been a painfully dry texter - the kind who responds to paragraph-long messages with "k" - so you can never really gauge his mood through messages. But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw when you walked in without knocking.

Toji getting head from some random woman, right there in his office chair.

Now, you love Toji. Truly, he's like your brother and has been there through everything. But there was a shift after his wife passed, and he transformed into a total manwhore. It annoys you to no end, but what can you do? The man's grieving and coping however he can. He's also a single father, handling that responsibility as best he knows how. As his best friend, you reserve the right to get pissed off and make fun of him for his escapades.

Today you were already on edge, probably because of your car troubles. Though for the past week and half, you'd been blaming everything on Sukuna, that walking pain in your existence. So naturally, this was somehow his fault too. Maybe he put Toji up to it just to get under your skin.

Okay now I’m just being ridiculous.

As you stand there in shock, Toji immediately shoves the girl off and hurriedly tucks himself back into his pants. The woman looks stunned to see you standing there like some disapproving mother, while Toji just chuckles and shakes his head, completely unfazed.

Sukuna may have been wrong about many things concerning you, but he wasn't wrong about Toji and his women.

"Hey pretty, did ya come to join us-" You immediately raise your hand to shut him up and turn to the girl.

"You know he has a wife, right?" The words tumble out before you can stop them, and now you're committed to this lie. Toji stares at you like you've completely lost your mind.

The girl cocks her head to the side, confusion written across her features. "What?" She turns to look at Toji, who lets out a long-suffering groan.

Well, now you feel bad - kind of. This girl looks about your age, and Toji's only four years older than you, so it's not that inappropriate. But you did just bring up his wife - who is very much deceased. In your defense, the man had to have known you were coming. You'd texted him enough times to fill a novel. But now you look like the bad guy, yelling at this random ass woman.

God, I hate all men.

Toji pushes back from his chair, slipping an arm around the girl’s waist and starts guiding her toward the door. You, on the other hand, don't want to stick around to hear the inevitable lecture that’s about to come crashing down. Instead, you make a beeline for the exit, practically bolting as if the floor might swallow you whole if you linger any longer.

"Uhm, I'll talk to you later! You guys have fun!" you call out as Toji deadpans at your retreating form.

The girl looks up at him with raised eyebrows. "I thought you said your wife passed away?"

Toji lets out a low, soft hum, the kind that carries more weight than words. “She did.” Without missing a beat, the girl steps closer, giving him a gentle side hug and rubbing the tension from his back.

“And who was that?” she asks, her fingers now absentmindedly playing with the dark strands of his hair.

Toji chuckles, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. "My deranged sister."

The woman hums again, a casual, almost teasing sound, as her fingers absentmindedly play with Toji’s hair. It’s the kind of touch that’s more about passing time than comfort—light, easy, with no promises or weight behind it. Just a moment of distraction, nothing more.

Meanwhile, you're stomping up to your apartment, absolutely fuming. You're mad at yourself again, wondering why shit like this always happens. And why does Toji have to be such a whore-

BAM!

Lost in your internal rant, you slam right into what feels like a brick wall. As you wince in pain, you look up to see that shit-eating grin that's been haunting your dreams.

Oh. Not a wall - you ran straight into him.

"Shit, my bad," you mutter, backing away and picking up your tote that fell during the collision with this mountain of a man.

Sukuna's smirk widens, flashing those perfect teeth. "Damn, it's only noon. Already drinking, drunky?" He laughs and bends down to retrieve your phone from the floor.

"Don't call me that," you snap, digging through your tote for your keys. Your stomach drops when you realize they're missing.

"Fuck," you sigh, scanning the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks, with one eyebrow raised. You noticed that they both had slits, which was incredibly hot-

Focus.

"Lost my keys."

"Need help?"

You turn to him with the fakest smile you can muster. "No, I'm good, thank you though."

Sukuna rolls his eyes with a dramatic sigh and strides past you without a second glance. You catch yourself trailing behind him like a shadow.

He turns back before entering the parking garage. "Which one's yours?" he asks, nodding toward the sea of vehicles.

You point toward your silver Honda CR-V parked near the far end, its familiar dents and scratches standing out against the polished rows of newer cars. Sukuna’s gaze locks onto it, and without hesitation, he strides toward the car with that unmistakable air of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing. You huff under your breath, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement bubbling up as you realize what he’s doing.

"I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't leave my keys in my car," you shout as he approaches the vehicle.

Sukuna waves off your protests like they’re background noise, leaning in to peer through the car window with a sharp scoff. “Ya sure about that, drunky?” he says, voice dripping with skepticism.

You roll your eyes but can’t help following him over to the car. He looms over you, his shadow stretching long as you both fix your eyes on the keys sitting there in the ignition, like some cruel joke. And, of course, the doors are locked tight.

You groan, pressing your forehead against the cold, unforgiving glass, the chill doing nothing to cool your rising frustration. “I’m going to scream,” you mutter, voice eerily calm despite the chaos of the moment. Sukuna just huffs, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Curious, you glance up to find him already pulling out his phone, fingers flying over the screen as he texts someone.

“My guy’s on his way to unlock the car for you,” Sukuna says like it’s no big deal, his tone casual as if this is just part of the daily routine. You tilt your head, suspicion creeping in. “Your guy?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Sukuna shrugs. “Yeah, one of my workers at the shop. He’s also a locksmith, so he can handle this kind of mess.”

You nod slowly, the pieces clicking together in your mind. So that’s the mechanic friend Toji mentioned too many times without actually saying his name. Suddenly, this whole situation feels a little less hopeless.

As you wait, a thick, awkward silence stretches between you, broken only when Sukuna finally turns to you with that trademark smirk. “Have you gotten that Gameboy fixed yet?” he asks, eyes glinting with mischief.

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden question, then let out a tired sigh. “No, haven’t had the time, honestly. I’m thinking I might just replace it instead of fixing it.”

Sukuna hums, tapping his fingers against his leg as if weighing the options. “I know a guy who could probably fix it, and it wouldn’t even cost much.”

You raise an eyebrow, a small giggle escaping. “Do you have a guy for everything?”

He can’t help but smirk at that, his laugh low and genuine, like a rare crack in his usual cool exterior. The silence that settles afterward isn’t uncomfortable—it’s different. Almost peaceful, like two people sharing a moment without needing to fill the space with noise.

The locksmith pulls up shortly in his battered truck, the engine settling into a low rumble as he hops out with practiced efficiency. Within minutes, he’s unpacked his tools beside your driver’s side door, moving with the kind of calm confidence born from doing this a thousand times before. Then, with a satisfying *click*, the door pops open.

Caught up in the relief and gratitude flooding through you, you do the last thing you expected—you sprint over and wrap your arms around Sukuna in a spontaneous hug.

“Thank you! I owe you—” The words catch in your throat as the reality of what you’re doing hits you mid-sentence.

Sukuna’s face goes unreadable, a mask hiding the chaos inside. His heart is pounding so hard he’s pretty sure it’s audible. You pull away quickly, cheeks burning, stammering apologies as you turn to thank the locksmith properly.

Sukuna leans against the car, watching you interact with the locksmith, fighting to steady his breath. That hug had knocked him off balance—so genuine, so warm, so unexpectedly... right. And now, of course, he’s pissed for feeling this way. Toji had made it clear not to mess with you.

The locksmith nods toward Sukuna, holding out a hand. Sukuna blinks out of his thoughts and steps forward. “Thanks, man,” he says, the dap quick but solid.

The locksmith climbs back into his truck and drives off and you're still burning with embarrassment but trying to act normal. "I really do mean I owe you one."

Sukuna’s smile is slow, knowing, and it twists your insides in the best and worst ways. “Don’t worry about it, drunky.”

Fuck.

Sukuna opens his mouth to say something else, but just then your phone blares an alarm—Nobara’s pick-up time. Your eyes snap wide as you glance at the clock.

“Shit!” you blurt, fumbling to unlock your car. “I’m supposed to pick up Nobara in fifteen minutes!”

“Fuck,” Sukuna mutters at the same time, pulling out his own phone. “I totally forgot about Choso and Yuji.”

You both share a quick, knowing look—the universal parent panic that hits when you realize you’re about to be late. Without a word, you jump into your car while Sukuna strides toward his Mustang parked a few spots away.

As you pull out of the lot, your eyes flick to the rearview mirror, catching his car turning the opposite way. Your mind drifts, the warmth of his chest during that hug lingering like a soft echo. It had been solid, grounding even, before reality slammed back in. And that smile he gave you afterward—different from his usual cocky smirk—something quieter, almost genuine.

Meanwhile, behind the wheel of his Mustang, Sukuna takes the back roads, trying not to dwell on how perfectly you fit against him in that brief hug. Or how your laugh actually sounded real this time, not the usual forced thing you do around him. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, annoyed at himself for noticing.

You both arrive at the preschool from opposite sides, parking in spots that feel deliberately far apart. Across the lot, he catches your eye and gives you a small nod—not his trademark cocky head tilt, but something softer, almost friendly.

You find yourself returning the nod with a slight wave before heading inside to grab Nobara. Something’s shifted between you two, though neither could say exactly what.

Maybe running into each other—literally—wasn’t the worst thing after all.

It’s been almost a month since you met Sukuna, and you’ve given up on trying to completely ignore him—mostly because it’s impossible with how often your kids spend time together (not because he makes your heart race every time you see him, of course). Nobara, Yuji, and Choso have become inseparable, their friendship blossoming with that effortless, instant connection only kids can pull off.

You and Sukuna at least nod at each other in the halls now. Sometimes the kids knock on each other’s doors, claiming they’re just being “neighborly”—though Choso always apologizes quietly for bothering you, his polite seriousness is a stark contrast to Sukuna.

Sukuna had slowly started to learn more about you. Yuji and Choso would talk about how you’re the “book fairy”. Nobora started bringing books over and to school to show them. They thought you were magical and Sukuna soon peaced together that you were the librarian friend Toji had talked about for years.

At school pickup, you watch Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi walking out together, hands linked, chatting about who knows what. Nobara’s always been a social butterfly, but seeing the usually reserved Megumi warming up to the crew is a small joy.

Of course, this new peace between your families means you’re forced to interact with their infuriatingly attractive uncle more than you’d like. The way Sukuna leans casually against the wall waiting for the kids, or how his eyes crinkle slightly when he actually smiles—not the usual smirk—at something the kids do, it’s getting harder to keep up your carefully crafted wall of annoyance.

Meanwhile, Toji’s been busier than ever. Some tenants moved out recently, so he’s been knee-deep in renovations, hustling to fix up the place. You’ve been helping when you can—picking up Megumi, running errands, juggling whatever needs doing.

Sukuna’s been pitching in too. When he’s not at his shops, he’s at Toji’s place, laying down new flooring or handling whatever handyman work needs doing. The trio of you working together has become the new normal, even if it sometimes makes your head spin.

None of you have really been able to hang out. Just catching glimpses of each other here and there—quick hellos in the hallway or passing nods during pickup. Hell, the kids get to see each other more than you do, their laughter and chatter filling the spaces where you and Sukuna barely find time to exchange more than a few words. It’s strange how your lives have intertwined through the kids, yet the grown-up connection still feels like a fragile thread stretched thin across busy days and competing schedules.

Work for you had been going great. The library feels unusually quiet—Ino’s out sick, dramatically claiming he has “definitely the plague,” though you’re pretty sure it’s just a stubborn cold.

You’ve spent most of the day setting up a brand-new “What’s Hot” section for readers, meticulously arranging everything from the latest spicy romance novel to that thriller everyone’s been buzzing about. The display is your pride and joy. You even made little handwritten recommendation cards, something that never fails to bring a smile from the regulars who stop by.

Between organizing the new section, you’ve sat through a handful of meetings about upcoming visits. The local elementary school is gearing up for their annual field trip—you’re already bracing yourself for the inevitable chaos and the senior center’s book club wants to reserve the conference room for their monthly gatherings. The day’s been busy but somehow flew by, maybe a little too fast.

You’re wrapping up around three, ready to head out. Nobara has art club until five today, so you figure there’s enough time to knock out some errands and sneak in a quick catch-up with her dad. It’s nothing heavy—just your usual monthly check-in to go over Nobara’s schedule and make sure you’re both on the same page. Between both of your packed workdays, once a month is about the only window you can carve out to sync up without juggling too many balls at once.

There’s no drama between you—just two adults trying to navigate the business of co-parenting with as much grace as possible. Today’s meeting follows the usual rhythm: reviewing Nobara’s upcoming activities and making sure nothing falls through the cracks. She’s buzzing with excitement about starting jujitsu, which has you freaking out more than you’d like to admit. On top of that, she’s just signed up for the art club and of course, summer camp is right around the corner, adding another layer to the carefully balanced schedule you both work hard to manage.

Every day, you silently thank the universe that her father is such a wonderful person. It’s almost annoying how wonderful he is. But you’re beyond grateful. Without him, you’d be lost. What you don’t realize is he feels the same way about you, and that thought lingers quietly between both of you, unspoken but deeply understood.

Now you’re finally stepping out of the library, already tasting the sweet reward of a well-deserved sweet treat from the coffee shop before heading over to his office. You’ve been holding your breath every time you start your car since that day—Toji never actually fixed it, and you haven’t had the nerve to bring it up since. The memory of that afternoon lingers too heavily, so you refuse to mention it again.

“Come on, you piece of...” you mutter under your breath, turning the key once more. The engine responds with a sad, pitiful clicking sound that definitely isn’t normal. After the fifth failed attempt, you throw in the towel and dial Toji—the guy who’s become your unofficial mechanic, ever since he tried to bring your radiator back to life with duct tape and a prayer.

“Pretty, I can’t come right now. Megumi’s got a dentist appointment,” Toji’s voice comes through, distracted and full of background noise. Megumi is firing off endless questions about whether dentists are actually certified. “I’ll send someone over for you.”

You start to ask, “Who—?” but the line’s already dead. Typical Toji. One of these days you swear you’re going to give him a good punch in the arm.

Fifteen minutes later, the low rumble of a motorcycle rolls into the parking lot, and your stomach twists into knots. A familiar figure pulls up next to your car, the sleek black Kawasaki purring as if it owns the place. The bike’s dangerous curves mirror its rider perfectly—smooth, powerful, and impossible to ignore.

Of course. Of fucking course Toji would send him. Which honestly you’re grateful a mechanic is actually here. But you would never say that to his face.

Sukuna swings off the bike with that maddening grace, peeling off his helmet to reveal that stupid, infuriating smirk you’ve come to both dread and anticipate. His white t-shirt clings to a chest you’ve tried not to notice, his arms covered in intricate tattoos flexing as he runs a hand through his helmet-mussed hair. The pink highlights catch the afternoon sun, and you hate that you even notice.

You raise an eyebrow, folding your arms as he approaches. “I didn’t know you had a bike.”

He smirks, eyes flickering to your car. “Car trouble, drunky?” he asks, completely ignoring your question as he saunters over like he owns the whole damn lot. His boots scrape against the asphalt, each step deliberate, measured, and annoyingly confident.

You cross your arms tighter, leaning back against your car door. “No, I just love standing in empty parking lots. It’s my hobby.”

He chuckles, closing the distance between you. “Don’t you need my help? Play nice for once.” That damn smirk stretches wider, and you shoot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“Did Toji tell you what’s wrong?”

“Nah, just said you needed help.” Now he’s close enough that you catch the scent of his cologne mixed with motor oil and leather—a dangerous mix you stubbornly refuse to admit affects you.

“Pop the hood.”

You nod and pop the hood, stepping back as Sukuna leans over the engine bay. The way his shirt rides up just enough to reveal a strip of tanned skin makes your eyes drift, catching the edge of a tattoo winding beneath his waistband.

“See something you like?” he asks without looking up, voice teasing.

You snap back to reality, realizing you’ve been caught staring. “Yeah, a functional car. Think you can manage that?”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he moves to the steering wheel and tries the ignition again. The same pitiful clicking noise greets you.

Sukuna straightens, wiping his hands on his jeans with a sigh. “Starter’s shot. I can have one of my guys come pick it up and get it fixed by tomorrow. We’ve got the parts at the shop.”

“Tomorrow?” You groan, dread sinking in. “How am I supposed to get home?”

He pats his motorcycle with a grin, the black paint gleaming under the afternoon sun. “Got a spare helmet. Even padded for that hard head of yours.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Scared?” His eyes glint with challenge, and for the first time you notice a fleck of gold shining in one iris, sharp and mischievous.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle in my life,” you admit, trying not to let the nervous edge creep into your voice.

“I may not be the best at first impressions,” he says with a cocky grin, “but I’m pretty damn good at driving.” He winks—again. Seriously, there should be laws against being this annoying and this attractive at the same time.

You roll your eyes and scoff, but beneath you feel your resolve is starting to crumble.

Focus. You’ve got shit to do.

While Sukuna calls his shop, you try hard not to get distracted by how effortlessly competent he looks taking charge—his voice sharpening into business mode, calm and controlled. You catch him absently chewing on his bottom lip as he listens to his employee’s response, fingers tapping out a steady rhythm against his thigh. The sunlight catches the silver rings on his hands, glinting just enough to pull your gaze again. You definitely don’t notice any of that. Nope.

“Car will be ready tomorrow afternoon,” he says, ending the call with a satisfied snap. “Tow truck’s on its way. Now…” He holds out the spare helmet—a sleek black with a subtle red pinstripe running along the side. “You coming or walking?”

You eye the helmet like it might bite. “If you kill me, Nobara will never forgive you.”

He smirks, voice softening just a touch at the mention of your daughter. “Guess I better keep you alive then.”

“That’s not very convincing coming from you,” you retort, trying to keep the edge in your voice.

His grin widens as he steps closer, the air between you thick with tension. “I can be very convincing when I want to be.”

You take the helmet, partly just to have something to do with your hands, and clear your throat, turning your head away. “I’ve got a few stops to make before you take me home. That cool?”

You try to sound tough, but the edge is fading fast.

He just smiles and nods. “Tell me where we need to go, drunky.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” He winks, and you mentally groan.

Rolling your eyes, you swing a leg over the bike. Sukuna’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he helps strap the helmet on. The soft touch sends an unexpected jolt straight to your nerves.

“Alright, where to?” Sukuna asks, already shifting the bike into gear.

“Downtown. I need to meet Nobara’s dad at his office,” you say quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

He squints, the gears in his head clicking. “What’s his office? I’ll GPS it.”

You mumble the address, watching his expression twist as the name sinks in.

“Higuruma & Associates?” His eyebrows shoot up, like you just dropped some wild secret on him. “Wait, the law firm?”

“Yeah.”

“Your baby daddy is a lawyer?” His tone is tinged with skepticism and a hint of amusement.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna. Her father is a lawyer. Is that so hard to believe?”

He repeats the name slowly, testing it out like it’s a foreign word. “Hiromi Higuruma? The top lawyer in Tokyo? That’s who you…” He trails off, waving a vague hand.

“Had a baby with? Yep.” You’re enjoying his discomfort a little too much. “Why? Expecting some deadbeat?”

He shakes his head, turning the bike on with a low growl. “Nah, you just keep surprising me.”

“And what does that mean exactly?” You wrap your arms around his waist as he pulls out of the parking lot, trying to ignore how solid he feels beneath your hands.

“Just surprised you’re making poor life choices,” he calls over the roar of the engine. “Like getting on this bike with me.”

You squeeze his middle harder than necessary. “Just drive, asshole.”

The ride downtown is a blur of honking horns and flashing lights, but you’re too focused on the close contact to notice much else. Holding on to him feels oddly natural—his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, the way he instinctively shields you from the wind when rounding corners. It’s unsettling how easy it is to fall into the rhythm.

As you approach the towering glass facade of the law firm, Sukuna’s disbelief only seems to grow heavier, his eyes narrowing as they scan the sleek, polished building like it doesn’t quite fit the story he’s piecing together. He eases the bike to a stop with a low whistle, the engine’s rumble fading into the hum of the city. His gaze lingers on the reflective windows, tracing the sharp lines and glossy surfaces with a mix of skepticism and something else—curiosity.

“Can you wait out here? I won’t be long.” You begin to tug off the back of your helmet, feeling the cool air hit your hair as Sukuna steadies the bike beneath you.

“I gotta piss,” he announces abruptly, already swinging his leg over the side to dismount.

You raise a brow, exhaling a tired sigh, and mutter a distracted ‘whatever’ as you start up the steps toward the entrance.

Sukuna doesn’t really have to piss. It’s just his way of sneaking a peek, a subtle excuse to linger and get a better look at this ‘famous’ baby daddy of yours.

At the security desk, the guard looks up and immediately recognizes you. “Good afternoon! Mr. Higuruma is in his office,” he says with a nod, opening the way.

Sukuna’s eyebrows shoot up as the receptionist waves you through without a second glance. The elevator ride up is quiet, but you can feel his gaze on you. You avoid eye contact at all costs by staring at the polished linoleum.

The law firm’s reception is all sleek surfaces and expensive artwork, the kind that screams power and money without saying a word. By the window stands a tall man in a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back with precision. When he turns, his stern expression softens just a bit when he sees you.

“You’re late,” Hiromi says, but there’s no real bite behind the words.

“Car trouble,” you reply, nodding toward Sukuna. “This is my… neighbor. He gave me a ride.”

Hiromi nods and gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. His sharp eyes flick to Sukuna, taking in the tattoos, the motorcycle helmet in his hand, the way he stands just a little too close to you. A flicker of something knowing crosses his face.

“Appreciate you bringing her,” Hiromi says formally, extending a hand. “Hiromi Higuruma.”

Sukuna shakes it, and you have to bite back a laugh at the nearly imperceptible shock on his face. No doubt about it now—Hiromi’s face has been on magazine covers and news stories enough to be instantly recognizable.

“I’ll wait outside,” Sukuna mutters, giving Hiromi one more look.

As he steps away, you catch Hiromi’s subtle smirk. “Neighbor, huh?”

“Don’t start,” you warn, already bracing yourself. “Let’s just talk about Nobara’s schedule.”

Still, you can’t help stealing a glance at the door, knowing Sukuna’s probably out there, trying to wrap his head around how you—the mouthy librarian next door—ended up having a kid with one of Tokyo’s top lawyers.

Hiromi chuckles, settling into his chair with that same effortless elegance he’s always had. “Ah yes, our little firecracker wants to try jujutsu.”

You smile despite yourself. ‘Our little firecracker’—that’s what Hiromi’s called Nobara ever since she came screaming into the world, loud enough to shatter everyone’s eardrums. It’s strange how you look at Hiromi now — layered with years of history. One wild night at a bar sparked something neither of you expected, something messy and imperfect, but precious all the same—even if romance was never part of the equation.

“She won’t stop talking about it,” you say fondly. “Megumi’s been showing her some moves during recess.”

“Fushiguro’s boy?” Hiromi raises an eyebrow, rifling through papers. “She talks about him constantly. Along with… Yuji and Choso?”

“The neighbor’s nephews,” you say, trying to sound casual. Hiromi hums as he watches Sukuna through his glass office walls.

“The tattooed neighbor who’s making my receptionist nervous?” His eyes twinkle with amusement. “She’s usually unflappable.”

You cut in before it goes further. “Can we focus on summer camp? Registration ends this week.”

“Already handled,” Hiromi says, sliding a neatly organized folder across the polished surface of his desk. The soft thud of the folder hitting the wood feels oddly reassuring. “Both the regular camp and the jujutsu classes are taken care of. And before you start,” he holds up a hand, cutting you off with that familiar, knowing look that tells you he’s been through this dance a hundred times, “I know you can pay for it, but I want to, so don’t even think about complaining.”

You accept the folder, the weight of it somehow grounding you. His straightforward approach is exactly what keeps your complicated arrangement from unraveling. Just two adults who created something incredible together, and who have learned to make it work on their own terms.

“Thank you,” you say softly, meaning every word. “She’s going to be so excited.”

Hiromi raises an eyebrow, a playful glint lighting his otherwise serious eyes. “She gets that energy from you.”

You can’t help the quick retort that flies out, “Pretty sure her attitude is all you.”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm, filling the room like a familiar melody. “Speaking of attitude… the neighbor?”

You shoot him a warning look. “Stop it.”

But you catch the corner of your mouth twitching, betraying your amusement.

“As the father of your child, I feel obligated to point out you’re blushing.”

You roll your eyes. “And as the mother of your child, I feel obligated to tell you to fuck off.”

His expression softens, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes your heart ache a little. “It’s good to see you flustered over someone. It’s been a while.”

“I’m not flustered,” you say quickly, though even your own voice sounds uncertain.

“Of course not,” he replies smoothly, his tone laced with gentle teasing. “Just like you weren’t flustered that night at the bar when you told me my tie was stupid.”

“It was stupid. Still is.” You gesture to the tie he’s wearing now—exactly the same one from that night, a stubborn little emblem of how little things change.

He adjusts it with exaggerated dignity. “It’s classic.”

“Yeah, boring,” you shoot back.

He smirks, undeterred. “Says the woman who rode here on a motorcycle with a man covered in tattoos.”

You roll your eyes, laughter bubbling up despite yourself. Then, suddenly, the room slips into a quiet that feels heavier than it should.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” His voice is softer now, serious.

You look at him, brow furrowed in concern. “Yeah, for sure. You okay?”

He hesitates, swallowing before he speaks. “I’m fine. I just… need to talk.”

His formal tone tightens the knot in your stomach. Hiromi’s never this hesitant unless something’s up.

“Well, that’s never good,” you try to joke, but your voice wavers, and a wave of nausea creeps up your throat.

“So… remember that woman I told you I started talking to?”

You nod slowly, the memory of that passing mention during Nobara’s last pickup still fresh.

“Well, we’re getting serious,” he says, gaze steady. “And I want to know if it’s okay if I bring Nobara around her. Actually…” He pauses, fingers nervously fiddling with the edge of his tie, a rare crack in his usual composed armor. “I was hoping to introduce them to eachother tonight.”

You’re stunned.

Stunned for two reasons.

First, because he actually asked for your permission. That’s never been a written rule between you two, but it’s a line he’s always respected without being asked. Hiromi values your role as Nobara’s mother in a way that’s quietly steady and sincere—a rare kind of respect that means more than words.

Second, because another person in your life is moving into something serious—like a whole new chapter that you never quite saw coming. The universe must be having a private joke at your expense, watching you stumble through your own tangled mess while Hiromi steps forward with someone else.

It’s a strange mix of emotions swirling inside you: a pinch of envy, a stab of loneliness, and beneath it all, a reluctant sense of relief. How pathetic it feels to be caught off guard by this, to realize that while you’re still wrestling with your own chaos, life keeps moving forward for everyone else—sometimes faster than you’re ready to catch up.

“Of course it’s okay,” you manage to say, pushing down the swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “You don’t need to ask.”

“I do, though.” He leans forward, earnest and raw in a way that catches you off guard. “You’re her mother. Your opinion matters. Always.”

You swallow hard, the question catching in your throat more than you expected. “What’s she like?”

Hiromi’s entire demeanor shifts—softens in a way you haven’t seen before, like a mask peeling back to reveal something quieter, more vulnerable. His eyes soften, and a faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as if recalling something precious. “She’s a professor at the university,” he starts, voice low and almost reverent. “She teaches philosophy—always questioning everything, pushing boundaries. Sometimes to the point of driving me crazy, honestly. But that’s part of what makes her so... sharp. Fiercely independent, but with this unexpected warmth that sneaks up on you when you least expect it. The kind of person who remembers the smallest details—your favorite coffee, how you take your tea—and somehow manages to make even the toughest days feel lighter just by being around.”

Hearing him speak like that, you feel a strange ache in your chest—not jealousy, but something softer, more complicated. It’s the quiet, almost boyish affection in his voice that unsettles you, seeing this usually composed man become so openly tender.

“She sounds perfect for you,” you say sincerely, the words catching in your throat. “I’m happy for you, Hiromi.” Without thinking, you reach out and pull him into a hug. He wraps his arms around you without hesitation, grounding you in the moment.

“Thanks,” he murmurs softly, and you hum in response.

But then his expression shifts, growing serious again, searching. “You’re sure you’re okay with this? With tonight?”

You meet his gaze, feeling the weight behind the question settle deep in your chest. “Hiromi,” you say softly, voice steady despite the storm inside, “all I’ve ever wanted is for Nobora to be surrounded by people who love her. If she makes you happy, if she’s good to our daughter... that’s all that matters.”

He studies your face carefully, eyes probing for something beneath your calm. “There’s something else. You look... sad.”

You shake your head quickly, denial rushing out before you can stop it. “I’m not sad.” But the words ring hollow even to your own ears. “I’m just... everyone’s moving forward, you know? And I’m still just...”

“Still just being an incredible mother, building a career you love, and apparently making my receptionist question her life choices by showing up with a man who looks like he could bench press my desk?” His voice lightens, teasing, but with unmistakable warmth.

You roll your eyes, but can’t stop the smile creeping across your face. “Shut up.”

He leans in, voice dropping to that gentle-but-firm tone he uses in court—the one that demands attention without raising volume. “You’re not standing still. You’re choosing your pace. There’s a difference.”

You stand, gathering your things, the flutter of nerves and uncertainty still humming beneath your skin. “Pick her up at five? Her club’s done by then.”

“Perfect.” Hiromi rises too, and before either of you can stop it, you pull him into a quick, unexpected hug.

“Good luck tonight,” you murmur, stepping back. “Try not to be so... lawyer-y.”

He adjusts his tie with mock offense. “I’m always lawyer-y. It’s my charm.”

You roll your eyes again, turning toward the door, but your mind is already racing—thoughts swirling about tonight, about Nobora meeting someone new in her father’s life, about how everything is shifting faster than you’re ready for.

When you step out, Sukuna straightens from where he’d been leaning against the wall, his eyes flickering briefly to yours. You walk past without a word, jabbing the elevator button maybe a little harder than necessary, your chest tight with a tangle of emotions you’re not quite ready to untangle.

The elevator’s silence wraps around you like a thick fog, heavy and electric. You can feel his eyes on you—watching every subtle shift, every flicker of tension in your shoulders, the way your bottom lip catches between your teeth like you’re holding back a secret. It’s obvious he’s bursting to ask something, but he holds it back, the question hanging unspoken between you.

Somewhere between the twelfth and eleventh floor, the pressure becomes too much. You let out a dramatic sigh that echoes in the cramped space, loud and deliberate.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, waiting patiently, his gaze sharp but unreadable.

“You got any plans tonight?” The words slip out before you can stop them, raw and unfiltered.

He quirks a smirk, the corners of his mouth turning up in that irritatingly confident way. “Why? Ya asking me out, drunky?”

You flush, heat rising to your cheeks. “Never mind,” you scoff and roll your eyes, but he closes the distance between you, stepping in with that infuriatingly casual ease, invading your space like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“My dad’s got the boys this weekend,” he says, voice low, almost a hum. You nod, caught off guard by the softness in his tone, the way his presence suddenly feels less like a challenge and more like an anchor.

The motorcycle ride home is different—lighter, somehow. The usual tension that had wrapped around you both like armor has softened, melted away into something unspoken but real. Without thinking, you rest your head against his back, arms looping around his waist in a grip that feels both desperate and comforting. It’s strange—only a month ago, you barely tolerated him, kept your distance like he was a storm you wanted to avoid. And now, here you are, clinging to him like he’s the only thing steady in a world that’s suddenly spinning too fast.

When you asked about his plans, Sukuna probably pictured something entirely different from what was unfolding now. Here you were, sprawled across your cramped living room floor, deep into a heated, slightly slurred game of drunk Uno. The night had slipped away faster than either of you expected, empty beer bottles scattered around like markers of chaos. The game had long since abandoned any semblance of normal rules, devolving into a ridiculous mess of house-made additions and laughter that echoed off the walls.

“Draw four!” you shouted, slapping your card down with way more enthusiasm than skill, a hiccup punctuating your excitement.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes, suspicion flickering across his face. “You’re cheating.”

You shot him a challenging grin. “Prove it.” A giggle escaped despite your best attempt at a serious poker face.

Yuji’s old Uno deck was a little worse for wear—sticky here and there, evidence of a long-forgotten juice spill—and Sukuna had found it buried in a drawer somewhere. Neither of you cared that the cards were far from pristine.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the rules work,” Sukuna muttered, reaching for another beer, his voice low but amused.

You mimicked his gruff tone perfectly. “I’m pretty sure I don’t care,” you shot back, and that was the exact moment he hurled a card at your head.

The apartment was chaos—a fortress of couch cushions tossed on the floor, your work bag abandoned near the door, and a half-eaten pizza sitting forgotten on the coffee table. But none of it mattered. Not tonight.

“Your turn,” you hiccupped, waving a hand in his direction.

Sukuna just stared at you, that look sharp in his eyes like he was trying to solve a puzzle. A puzzle made of you, this night, and whatever unspoken tension simmered between you.

“What?” you pressed, your voice a little too loud in the quiet room.

“Nothing,” he said too quickly, too sharply. The kind of ‘nothing’ that always meant something.

The game went on, each round more competitive, more ridiculous, and more drunk than the last.

“Red!” you shouted, slamming your card down like it was some grand victory.

Sukuna took a shot of tequila—because why the hell not—and that’s when you spotted it. A glint of silver when he stuck out his tongue, muttering a curse under his breath at your move.

“Holy shit,” you blurted, eyes widening. “You have a tongue ring?”

He smirked, deliberately flicking his tongue over his teeth. “Observant, aren’t ya?”

“When did you get that?”

“I was sixteen,” he said, tossing down a draw-two card with casual defiance. “Rebellious phase. Pissed off my old man.”

You snorted, disbelief coloring your voice. “You? Rebellious? Never would have guessed.”

“Fuck off,” he laughed, low and rough. It was the kind of laugh that held memories, a little rough around the edges but genuine all the same.

“I bet you were a handful,” you joke, nudging him with your elbow.

Sukuna throws his head back and sighs. “I was a little shit,” he admits, eyes sparkling with mischief. You both keep laying down cards, the game slipping into a rhythm that feels surprisingly easy.

The room falls into a comfortable silence for a moment. You take another slow sip of your drink, the warmth spreading through you.

“Ya know,” you start, voice softer now, “Toji talked about his mechanic friend for years. I was honestly surprised it was you.”

He raises a brow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Surprised?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, sticking your tongue out teasingly. “For a huge asshole, you’re pretty successful.”

Sukuna’s face heats up just a little, a rare flush that makes him look almost boyish. He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah? Well, Toji always talked about his gorgeous best friend who’s a librarian and a great mom.”

He pauses, and you catch him taking a slow sip of his beer. The silver glint of metal flashes again as he flicks his tongue—your eyes lock on the subtle tongue ring for a second longer than you mean to.

“Guess you’re not too bad,” he says, raising a brow and pouring you another drink. You laugh, the sound easy and genuine, and for a moment you forget about everything else.

This is actually fun. You don’t know why you invited Sukuna—of all people—over, and you’re not sure why it’s so damn easy to talk to him. It’s annoying, really.

“So,” Sukuna breaks the silence, voice low and deliberate, “the lawyer.”

You freeze, card halfway in the air. “What about him?”

He gestures vaguely between you. “You two… how’s that work?”

You laugh, sharp and a little bitter. “One night stand turned co-parenting. Definitely not a romance novel.”

“Seriously?” His eyes widen, genuinely surprised.

“Hiromi was just… a good guy. Smart as hell. We were both in a place where we needed something. Ended up with the best thing either of us could’ve imagined.” You slam down a draw-two card, your tone firm. “Draw two.”

Sukuna takes the cards, studying you like he’s trying to read between your words. “You never thought about getting back together?”

“We never were,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re friends. Good friends. But romantic? Nope. We’re better as Nobara’s parents than we ever would’ve been as a couple.”

“Huh.” He seems to be processing it all. “Most people would’ve tried to make it work—for the kid.”

“Most people aren’t us,” you say simply, flipping a card triumphantly. “Uno!”

He groans and throws a pillow at you. The game might be falling apart, but neither of you cares.

Suddenly, the door swings open and Toji walks in, key still in hand, freezing at the chaotic scene before him. Two drunk adults sprawled on the floor, Uno cards scattered everywhere, empty beer bottles littered around like casualties of a war.

“Just because you’re my landlord doesn’t mean you can barge in,” you tease, barely looking surprised.

Toji blinks, taking it all in. “What the hell are you two doing?”

Sukuna doesn’t even glance away, raising his beer with a lazy grin. “Uno.”

“Drunk Uno,” you clarify with a shrug, as if that explains everything.

Toji’s eyes flick between the two of you, a mix of confusion and something else—was it amusement? Suspicion?—softening his usual guarded expression.

“Your turn,” you say to Sukuna, completely ignoring Toji’s sudden presence like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Sukuna’s grin broadens, the silver flash of his tongue ring catching the light as he flicks a card down. “Red.”

Toji sighs, drops his keys onto the cluttered table, and slides down onto the floor beside you both. “Scoot over,” he says, settling in like he belongs here.

“Thought you were at the dentist,” you tease, nudging him with your elbow.

“Got done about an hour ago. Megumi’s with his grandparents,” Toji replies, grabbing a beer from the half-empty six-pack. “Deal me in.”

Sukuna picks up the deck and begins reshuffling with practiced ease. Even through your drunken haze, you can’t help but notice how big his hands are, how effortlessly they move as he splits the deck and deals the cards evenly.

He smacks a card down with a grin. “You first, drunky.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but play along, laying down a yellow five.

Toji methodically organizes his cards, taking a long swig of beer before asking, “Where’s Nobara?”

“With her dad,” you say, tossing down a blue card. “Hiromi’s introducing her to his girlfriend tonight.”

Toji’s brow arches in surprise. “Girlfriend?” Sukuna raises a brow too, and suddenly it clicks why you acted that way in the elevator.

“Yeah,” you explain, voice steady but quiet. “Seems nice. From what he’s told me.”

Toji studies you carefully, eyes sharp despite the beer. “You okay with that?”

You snap back, a little sharper than you mean to. “Why wouldn’t I be?” But there’s a flicker of vulnerability in your voice that betrays you.

Before things can get heavier, Sukuna cuts in, slamming down a card. “Draw four.”

“Asshole!” you laugh, but the relief of the distraction is clear in your smile.

Toji watches you both with a knowing smile tugging at his lips. Whatever’s shifted between you and Sukuna, he’s picked up on it—and he isn’t missing a thing.

"Your deal," Sukuna says, sliding the deck toward you. His fingers linger a moment too long as you take the cards.

A crash of thunder makes you jump, cards scattering everywhere. None of you had noticed the storm rolling in, too caught up in the game and drinks.

"Shit," you mutter, looking out the window at the now-pouring rain. Lightning illuminates the sky, and the lights flicker ominously.

Toji checks his phone. "Power's out in half the building already." He stands, landlord mode activating despite the beer. "Should check on the other tenants real quick."

"Need help?" Sukuna offers, but Toji waves him off.

"Nah, stay here. Make sure this one doesn't burn the place down trying to find candles." Your face deadpans and you flip him off as he grabs his keys, already heading for the door. "I'll be back after I check everyone's okay."

The moment the door shuts, the lights go out.

"Perfect," you mutter, fumbling for your phone. The flashlight beam catches Sukuna's face, shadows playing across his features. You try not to notice how the darkness makes his eyes seem more intense.

"Scared of the dark?" he teases, but he's already moving to help you find candles. You start opening drawers and boxes in the kitchen, not remembering if you had unpacked them yet.

"I fucking hate this" you grumble, trying not to notice how close he is as you both search through your kitchen drawers. "I hate-"

"Me?" he finishes, his voice low and amused. He's standing right behind you now, close enough that you can feel his warmth.

Lightning flashes again, illuminating the kitchen. For a split second, you see his reflection in the window, the way he's looking at you.

You turn around slowly, candle in hand. "I was going to say I hate how unorganized I am, but yeah, you too." You suddenly see the package of candles under some paper in the box you had yet to go through and grab it in defeat.

He laughs softly, taking the candle from you. His fingers brush yours in the darkness. "I can help you unpack the rest of your shit one day, drunky." He sits the candles in the counter and you ignore his statement and begin to search for matches.

It becomes silent again. Only the roar of the rain can be heard. Another crack of thunder, closer this time. You definitely don't jump, and he definitely doesn't notice how you instinctively step closer to him.

"Found matches," you say, trying to maintain some distance - physical and emotional. But in the small kitchen, with the storm raging outside, distance feels impossible.

Sukuna lights the candle, the small flame casting a warm glow between you. "Better?"

.You open your mouth to answer, but your phone buzzes sharply. A text from Toji, “Checking basement circuit breakers. Stay put, doesn’t look like it's gonna die down.”

"Looks like we're stuck here," you say, showing him the message.

Sukuna could easily head back to his own apartment—his place is right next door, after all. But you haven’t said a word about him leaving, haven’t even hinted that the night’s over. So here he is, standing in the dim light of your kitchen, just watching you. His posture is relaxed but there’s an intensity in the way his eyes track your every small movement.

He lets out a dry, sarcastic, “Terrible,” but there’s something softer beneath the edge—a flicker of concern that catches your attention. He glances at you, noticing the way your eyelids are heavy, the subtle slump in your shoulders, the exhaustion etched across your face.

Lightning flashes again, casting flickering shadows across your features, the candlelight dancing over your figure and it mesmerizes him for a moment.

Without a word, Sukuna steps closer and gently reaches out, steadying you as you wobble slightly. “Hey, you look wiped. Come on, let’s get you to bed baby.”

You try to protest, but the exhaustion weighs too heavily. He gently guides you toward the couch, his touch softer than you’d expect. With surprising tenderness, he eases you down into the cushions. The moment your body sinks into the familiar fabric, the night’s weight crashes over you like a wave, dragging you toward sleep.

Sukuna doesn’t move away. Instead, he lowers himself to the floor beside the couch, leaning back against the worn fabric with a slow, steady sigh. The silence between you thickens but doesn’t suffocate—there’s an unspoken understanding in the stillness.

Your breathing evens, eyes fluttering shut. He notices the slight tremor in your shoulders and, without thinking, pulls a blanket from nearby, draping it over you with care. His fingers linger a moment on the fabric, smoothing it as if to shield you from more than just the cold.

Minutes pass in quiet comfort. The storm rages on outside, but inside the room, the soft glow of candlelight and the rhythmic sound of your breathing create a fragile peace. Sukuna’s head slowly tilts back against the couch, eyes growing heavy. Before long, he’s dozing, the steady rise and fall of his chest mirroring yours.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, and Toji steps inside, pausing as he takes in the scene. There you both are—fast asleep, you curled on the couch, Sukuna slumped on the floor beside you, leaning against the couch like a watchful guardian who finally gave in to exhaustion.

Toji lets out a sigh and decides to crash on your bed because he refuses to deal with whatever the hell is happening between you two and your bed is much comfier than that stupid recliner.

But for real, what the hell is happening between you two?

summary/notes: hello my lovelies! I am oh so sorry it took me forever to update. I graduate university in two days. So, I’ve been a busy gal. I do plan to start posting more with the free time I have!

Anyhoo, I really loved writing this chapter so much. I read it out loud to my bf and he’s very invested in the plot lmao (he’s a sukuna and toji simp). I also had to add Hiromi because I’ve been obsessed with him since I read the bath scene years ago.

Please let me know what you guys think! I love to hear your input and suggestions! I love you all so much! <3

taglist is open: please comment and let me know if you want to be on it!! (:

@sukubusss @poopooindamouf @tojiswifeforlife @emochosoluvr @bookfreakk @withtanxp

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[theeartuaist]

Sometimes, I don't know what is worse, a yandere who's so delusional or a yandere who's so self-aware yet engages in obsessive and possessive behaviour nonetheless. Walk with me.

Like the delusional ones are terrifying because they genuinely believe they're doing the right thing. They'll lock you in a room and be like "this is for your own good my love" while you're screaming and they're serving you breakfast in bed with a smile.

They are so deep into the rabbit hole they've convinced themselves the hole doesn't exist. They're the ones who'll leave seventeen voicemails saying "I just want to make sure you're okay" while standing outside your window with a crowbar. They've rewritten reality in their minds like a twisted Choose Your Own Adventure book where every path leads to "happily ever after... or else."

BUT THE SELF-AWARE ONES

They'll deadass be like "I understand that my behavior is possessive, controlling, and violates multiple boundaries" then proceed to install 23 tracking apps on your phone. They know it's wrong. They can recite chapter and verse why their behavior would earn them a restraining order in any sane jurisdiction. But that knowledge doesn't stop them—it amplifies them.

They're out here doing full psychological analysis of their own behavior pattern while simultaneously deepening the pattern. They'll be in therapy describing their yandere tendencies in clinical detail to their therapist, nodding along to the coping mechanisms, and then walking straight out and buying 15 more security cameras for your house.

They're literally like "I know I'm toxic and you deserve better... anyway here's the 200-page dissertation I wrote about why we're soulmates based on the fact that we both like the same flavor of ice cream"

They can ratio you in an argument so hard because they'll use actual psychology textbooks to explain why their obsessive behavior is actually a totally rational response to their deep-seated attachment issues.

Like bro you can cite Jung and Freud all you want but you're still wearing my hoodie that you stole 3 months ago and sniffing it while updating your spreadsheet of my daily routines

The delusional yandere is in a horror movie. The self-aware yandere is in a psychological thriller where THEY'RE the unreliable narrator, the author, AND the reader all at once.

God help you if you try to ghost these bastards. The delusional one will keep calling until the phone lines fray from overuse. The self-aware one? They'll explain, in terms so clinical they could be published in the New England Journal of Stalking, exactly why your attempt to establish boundaries is actually detrimental to what they've determined is your "necessary codependency dynamic."

They're out here weaponizing therapy speak:

• "I need to process my abandonment trauma through this tracking device"

• "My love language is gift giving" buys your entire apartment complex

• "I'm just looking out for your mental health" hacks your DMs to delete messages from potential romantic interests

The self-aware yandere invented gaslighting yourself because they'll literally be like "I am fully cognizant of the fact that I'm gaslighting you right now", even providing footnotes explaining the exact gaslighting techniques they're employing while you be standing there like 🧍‍♀️ what do I even do with this information.

I think what fascinates me the most about self-aware type of yandere is that they exists in a state of perpetual dramatic irony. It's like they are trapped in a play where the audience (themselves) knows exactly what the character (also themselves) is doing, yet the show must go on! Scene by recursive scene.

TL;DR: Delusional yanderes are playing a game where they don't know the rules. Self-aware yanderes are speedrunning social relationships while reading the instruction manual and deliberately ignoring it.

Pick your poison I guess?