#dividers © saradika

[wolvesland]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 ֪

→ Kim Sunwoo x Leitora

→ Palavras: 3k

→ Sinopse: E se você e Sunwoo fossem amigos íntimos? Próximos o suficiente para desfrutar de alguns benefícios extras.

Desde que esse acordo começou vocês dois acham que têm sido muito bons em não confundir essas linhas e manter os amigos e os benefícios estritamente separados. Afinal de contas, sexo é sexo e amizade é amizade.

Para manter o acordo agradável para todos vocês dois obviamente estabeleceram algumas... Regras? Alguns sim e não.

Por exemplo, não havia problema em conhecer outras pessoas, mas o acordo seria colocado em pausa indefinidamente por respeito pela outra parte. Mesmo que fossem apenas os "estágios iniciais".

Vocês também concordaram que se um dos dois desenvolvesse sentimentos por outra pessoa, vocês conversariam sobre isso. Ambos já tinham ouvido falar de relacionamentos que foram arruinados ou prejudicados pela falta de comunicação e ambos concordaram que preferiam saber sobre esses sentimentos do que ser mantido no escuro.

E, na maioria das vezes, funcionava. Tudo estava indo bem, muito bem. Nenhum de vocês pedia mais do que o esperado. E você achava que poderia se orgulhar disso, mas aparentemente não.

NOTAS: fluffy?, sugestivo, amigos com benefícios.

📌 masterlist

© all rights reserved by @onceuponabloom

© tradução (pt/br) by @wolvesland

Sunwoo e você tiveram sua cota justa de encontros e relacionamentos de curta duração, se é que se pode chamá-los assim. Estava tudo bem, estava indo muito bem. Pelo menos para você, tinha conhecido algumas pessoas legais, alguns parceiros potencialmente invejáveis. Mas você não saberia, pois assim que ficava entediada, Sunwoo era a primeira pessoa para quem você mandava mensagem. Quando seus parceiros diziam ou faziam alguma coisa, você se lembrava de Sunwoo, quando eles não faziam nada, você pensava no Sunwoo. Ele estava aqui, ali e em toda parte. Você sempre acabava nos braços dele.

Da mesma forma, ele poderia estar com os amigos e não deixaria de enviar mensagens para você, ele raramente deixava suas mensagens sem resposta. Na verdade, ele provavelmente a importunava com bastante frequência por não responder com rapidez suficiente. Ultimamente, ele não tem gostado muito de você explorando o campo, mas no momento em que você ligava para ele depois de cada encontro fracassado, dizendo-lhe para abrir a porta, as dúvidas dele deixavam de existir. Principalmente quando ele a colocava contra a porta, a janela, a bancada, em todo lugar. Perto o suficiente para inspirá-la e engoli-la inteira. Naquela época, definitivamente não havia reclamações.

Este, infelizmente, não é um desses momentos.

Imagine que você está sentada em um banco ridiculamente desconfortável esperando que o barman prepare sua bebida. Você não tem certeza de onde exatamente estão todos os outros, mas sabe que seus amigos estão espalhados pelo clube mal iluminado, possivelmente bêbados, mas estava tudo bem, eles estão bem. Você lança ao barman um sorriso gentil e pega sua bebida graciosamente antes de se virar para examinar a sala. Ao bebericar, seus olhos, sem querer, pousam em uma figura familiar cercada por corpos menos familiares. Claro, lá estava Sunwoo, com garotas penduradas em cada lado dele, uma delas estava até se inclinando sobre a mesa, desesperada para ficar mais perto. Você revira os olhos enquanto elas riem um pouco demais de qualquer bobagem que ele esteja dizendo.

"Controle-se, ele não é tão engraçado assim." – Antes que seus pensamentos possam se aprofundar, você é interrompida por um tom familiar de provocação.

— Hey, gostosa, você está sozinha?

— Cale a boca, Juyeon. – Você ri antes de perguntar. — Onde estão os outros?

— Essa é uma boa pergunta. Quando você tiver a resposta, me avise.

Você está rindo com Juyeon pelos próximos minutos e apenas olhando de relance para Sunwoo a cada 20 segundos, ou a cada 10. Quando, de repente.

— Na verdade, s.n, já que você está aqui, eu queria que você conhecesse alguém.

O tom astuto dele contém uma ponta de culpa que imediatamente lhe diz que não há como escapar, e como se fosse a deixa ele aparece.

— Este é o Minho.

Qualquer reserva que você tenha sobre conhecer esse rapaz pode, ou não desaparecer um pouco quando você o vê. Afinal de contas, ele é agradável aos olhos e quem é você para recusar um pouco de atrativo? Ele definitivamente não é bonito como Sunwoo, mas isso não importa. Ele tem um charme diferente, um que a deixa feliz por estar na companhia dele. Um que pode fazer com que sua calcinha caia até os tornozelos se ele jogar as cartas certas, um que, de alguma forma, faz com que você dê uma risadinha e se incline para ele neste exato momento. Mesmo sob o olhar intenso de Sunwoo da mesa.

Ele está irritado, para dizer o mínimo, com a visão que tem diante de si, mas ele não fica muito tempo sozinho em sua irritação, porque logo Juyeon, Eric e Hyunjae se juntam a ele, juntamente com algumas garotas que Sunwoo não pode dizer com segurança que reconhece.

— O que o deixou de mau humor? – Pergunta Eric, e caramba, era a coisa errada a se perguntar.

— Não estou de mau humor. – O tom de Sunwoo é frio e cheio de irritação. — Só preciso de uma bebida. – Acrescenta ele, tentando suavizar o tom e falhando miseravelmente.

Ele não deveria estar descontando no Eric. Não é ele que está flertando com você, não são os músculos dele que você está apalpando com verdadeiro espanto, não é a mão dele que você está segurando enquanto se dirige à mesma mesa em que Sunwoo e companhia estão sentados.

Ele está convencido de que tudo isso é intencional quando você faz contato visual direto com ele antes de se inclinar para sussurrar - pelo menos é o que Sunwoo espera que seja - no ouvido de Minho.

Logo você está sentada bem em frente a Sunwoo e o brinquedo dele para a noite, com seu corpo agarrado ao lado de Minho. Você apresenta Minho a todos os que estão sentados com você - exceto Juyeon, que obviamente já é amigo dele - e felizmente eles o recebem rapidamente. Todos, exceto Sunwoo, que poderia estar fazendo muito mais para ser um pouco mais cordial. Em vez disso, ele revira os olhos para tudo o que Minho diz, fazendo comentários sarcásticos em voz baixa, que a música felizmente abafa.

A atenção de Sunwoo logo é roubada pela loira que está em seu braço, pois ela pede que ele abra o botão superior de seu vestido, alegando que estava sentindo muito calor e que era muito difícil alcançá-lo.

Você tenta não se concentrar no modo como as mãos de Sunwoo demoram um pouco demais, ou na forma como os lábios dele pressionam a nuca dela, ou nos sons sujos que saem da boca dela, os quais você pode acrescentar, estão definitivamente sendo exagerados.

"Eu não me importo" - Você tenta se convencer.

Afinal, por que você deveria? Você raciocina consigo mesmo. Não há razão para que você não possa lidar com isso.

No entanto, parece que seus amigos pensam o contrário. Porque, de repente Eric grita.

— Arrumem um quarto!

— Bem em frente a uma senhora? Em público! Tenham um pouco de respeito! – Diz Kevin, agitando os braços para dar um efeito dramático.

— Que vergonha para sua honra! Que vergonha para o seu nome! – Eric finge desmaiar, e uma série de risadas e aplausos de bêbados soam ao redor da mesa.

No entanto, suas palavras têm pouco efeito sobre Sunwoo. E assim, com as palavras finais de Kevin.

— Não quero ver você manchar... Bem, nada, então tchau. – Todos saem, um após o outro.

Sunwoo e a loira - você acha que o nome dela é Krista? - são obrigados a se separar para deixá-los sair. E então eram quatro, você, Minho, Sunwoo e Krista? Que belo grupo de indivíduos. Há um momento de silêncio constrangedor, interrompido apenas quando Sunwoo pede mais bebidas para todos.

— Oh, vamos jogar um jogo! – Krista sugere muito animada.

Sunwoo e você estão prestes a rejeitar a ideia quando Minho concorda. E antes que percebam, vocês já estão jogando "Eu Nunca" com seis shots.

— Eu nunca... Hmm... Fiz uma tatuagem! – Esse é o shot número sete para você, mas não está sozinha, você sabe, sem olhar, que Sunwoo também está tomando um shot.

— Você tem uma tatuagem? Isso é tão sexy! – Você zomba do quão óbvia ela está sendo quando um par de lábios roça em sua orelha.

Sunwoo não consegue ouvir muito bem a conversa, especialmente com a loira em seu braço falando sobre a vez em que ela quase fez uma tatuagem, mas, por algum motivo, não fez. Observe que ele tem plena consciência de que, se realmente prestasse atenção, seria capaz de recitar os detalhes literalmente, já que se tratava de uma história simples. Mas como Sunwoo poderia se concentrar em qualquer coisa quando você está sentada em frente a ele, parecendo positivamente deliciosa, nos braços de outro homem? Só esse pensamento já é suficiente para enlouquecer um homem, então imagine como ele deve estar se sentindo insano por isso estar acontecendo com ele.

— Uma garota nunca revela tudo no primeiro encontro. – Sunwoo consegue ouvir e sente o punho cerrado quando Minho repete as palavras mais alto, aproximando-se de você também, como se estivesse provocando Sunwoo.

— Primeiro encontro?

— Sim. E as senhoritas certamente não revelarão muito mais antes disso também. – Seu tom é brincalhão enquanto dá um tapinha na bochecha de Minho antes de se afastar.

E Sunwoo sente todo o seu ser relaxar com a nova distância.

— Então, Minhyuk. Sem tatuagens? – Sunwoo sabe que está sendo infantil, mas não se importa.

Não quando seus olhos estão fixos nele. Você sabe que ele está testando a sua paciência, ele quer que você se irrite e ele sabe que você está ciente desse fato.

Felizmente para você, Minho é muito gentil para entreter Sunwoo nem um pouco.

— Não, mas não estou me opondo a fazer nada. Só não encontrei nada que valha a pena ser pintado.

Antes que Sunwoo possa responder, Krista entra em cena.

— Sunwoo, você tem tantas tatuagens. – A mão dela vai acariciando o peito dele enquanto ela continua. — Aposto que eu poderia encontrar todas elas, sem problemas.

Um pequeno zumbido é a única resposta de Sunwoo. Ela passa os dedos no cós da calça dele, e antes que alguém perceba os lábios dela estão beijando o rosto dele com vontade.

— Vamos lá, querido, você pode me dizer se estou perto.

Você sabe que não deveria ficar olhando, mas não consegue evitar. A medida que as mãos dela se abaixam e os lábios se elevam, cada vez mais perto da tatuagem que Sunwoo fez contigo, você aperta o maxilar com mais força. E antes que perceba você derrama sua bebida sobre ele.

— Que merda! – Ele grita.

Krista se afastou dele, surpresa com a reviravolta dos acontecimentos.

— Foi um acidente! – Você grita de volta. — Não seja idiota. – Sunwoo revira os olhos enquanto se levanta para se limpar.

— Eu vou ajudá-lo. – Você informa Minho e Krista e sai na direção em que ele foi antes que qualquer um dos dois possa questionar por que ele precisaria de sua ajuda.

— Sunwoo? – Você o chama por causa da música alta. — Sunwoo? Sun... Oh, porra!

Você exclama ao ser puxada para dentro do banheiro. Instintivamente, você se contorce e se debate, tentando escapar do aperto do seu raptor quando, de repente ele o solta.

— Mas que diabos... – Você começa, mas não consegue terminar.

Quentes, carnudos e suculentos. Você está muito familiarizado com os lábios que tomaram os seus como reféns.

Uma mão a aperta com força contra a porta do banheiro, enquanto a outra desliza para dentro do seu cabelo macio. Você tenta puxar a cabeça dele para mais perto de você, mas ele está o mais próximo possível, enquanto está enfiado em sua garganta e ainda assim não está perto o suficiente. Então, você puxa e repuxa e mordisca o lábio inferior dele. Você precisa de mais e quase acha que está prestes a conseguir exatamente isso, mas ao em vez disso Sunwoo pressiona os lábios com firmeza, e de repente você está choramingando contra os dele.

Ele se afasta e quando seus lábios seguem os dele, ele segura seu queixo com uma das mãos, apertando suas bochechas, a mantendo no lugar.

— Hmm, tão carente. – Ele diz. — Do que você precisa? Vá em frente, me diz.

Você poderia se derreter com a doçura da voz dele, mas então ele acrescenta.

— Querida. – E isso não deveria afetá-la tanto, mas o tom dele é tão baixo, tão frio, tão maldoso.

Estava zombando de você. Isso dá um nó no seu estômago, o calor se espalha em você, enquanto sua calcinha encharca. Você quer dizer "você", na verdade, você quer gritar com ele antes de implorar para que ele a foda tão bem e com tanta força, mas ao em vez disso você solta um pequeno guincho e a risada de Sunwoo é sarcástica.

— O quê? Nada a dizer? Você tinha muito a dizer para o seu brinquedinho lá fora! O que foi aquilo, hmm? Quer que eu o traga aqui? Talvez isso faça seu cérebro funcionar.

Normalmente, você o atacaria naquele momento, mas não esta noite, pois algo se rompe quando ele fala de Minho e tudo o que você quer fazer agora é discutir. Não é possível que ele fique bravo com você quando ele estava a dois segundos de, no mínimo, uma punheta pública.

— É mesmo? E quanto a você e a senhorita barbie ali. Kristen? Krista? Seja qual for o nome dela. Você não estava perdendo um segundo com ela agora a pouco, estava? – Você não se dá conta de como sua voz ficou alta até que Sunwoo iguala seu volume.

— Não seja arrogante comigo quando você estava praticamente enfiado a bunda no Marco! E quem diabos é Krista? O nome dela é Kayla!

— É Minho! – Você grita em frustração, empurrando Sunwoo de cima de você. — Mas você está ocupado demais sendo um idiota para se importar.

Você passa a mão no cabelo, andando de um lado para o outro do banheiro, o que não é muito longe, considerando o espaço minúsculo. Sua garganta está começando a ficar seca e irritada por causa de toda aquela gritaria.

— Pelo amor de deus, Sunwoo. – Sua voz ficou mais suave, um pouco rouca. — Por que eu gosto de você? Mesmo agora, quando você está sendo tão idiota.

Lágrimas se acumulam nos seus olhos e você tenta enxugá-las antes que caiam.

— Eu não posso fazer isso. – Você sussurra enquanto passa por Sunwoo para ir embora.

Você gosta dele? Claro que gosta. Como não percebeu antes? Você poderia ter evitado tudo isso, que bagunça você fez.

Sunwoo estava atordoado. Você está gostando dele?

Você gosta dele!

E agora você acabou de sair, quase chorando por causa dele.

Caramba.

Sunwoo sai correndo pela porta, procurando por você na boate, ele localiza sua silhueta, indo em direção à saída. Ele corre, corre até você. Ele consegue alcançá-la, te agarra pelo braço pela segunda vez naquela noite, puxando-a para o corpo dele antes que você possa resistir, te envolvendo nos braços dele em torno de você com tanta força.

— Meu Deus, s.n, você não sabe? Você não pode simplesmente dizer a um cara que gosta dele e ir embora. – Ele se afasta um pouco para inclinar seu rosto para o dele. — Especialmente não antes dele dizer o quanto está apaixonado por você.

— Sunwoo, não estou a fim de ouvir suas piadas. – Você resmunga, tentando não desmoronar.

— Eu juro. Não estou brincando. – Ele se apressa. — Sei que fui um completo idiota esta noite, mas não aguentei ver você com aquele cara! Não quando você ainda não era minha. Eu não suportava a ideia de você escolher ele em vez de mim, mesmo que fosse só por um momento. Eu sinto muito.

O modo como ele acaricia sua bochecha com tanta delicadeza que parece uma pluma. Você provavelmente nem perceberia se ele não irradiasse tanto calor. O polegar dele passa sobre uma lágrima que consegue escapar, e você jura que o toque dele queima.

— Eu me apaixonei por você, s.n. – A voz dele é firme e ao mesmo tempo tão vulnerável.

Basta olhar em seus olhos para saber que é verdade, ele está apaixonado, ou algo muito próximo disso.

E assim, você admite.

— Ainda bem que eu também estou apaixonada. Caso contrário, isso seria muito estranho. – Você ri entre lágrimas.

Sunwoo te abraça com tanta força que sua risada é sufocada pelo alívio.

Não importa como você chegou lá, mas lá estava você no banheiro dele.

Você seca o cabelo com a toalha e se lembra das confissões anteriores. De repente, está sorrindo para o seu reflexo como uma adolescente apaixonada, você ainda não consegue acreditar que ele gosta de você.

Quando você chega em Sunwoo, ele está sentado no sofá, com o cabelo pingando do banho que tomou mais cedo.

— Achei que tinha dito para você secar o cabelo direito. – Você repreende pegando a toalha no ombro dele e secando o cabelo.

— Você disse, mas eu prefiro que você faça isso. – Você não consegue ver o rosto dele direito, mas sabe que ele está orgulhoso de si mesmo.

Suspirando em sinal de irritação você se dedica a pentear o cabelo dele, ouvindo suas divagações sobre o novo jogo que ele comprou e como ele acha que Eric tem uma queda por seu amigo.

Tudo isso parece tão familiar.

E você não consegue evitar, pois sua mente vagueia por todas as sessões de estudo estressantes que você teve e que acabaram se transformando em uma sessão de fofoca. Todas as noites de jogos que resultaram em discussões e só puderam ser resolvidas com um sorvete às 3 da manhã.

Seu dedo passa suavemente sobre a pequena tatuagem atrás da orelha esquerda dele, sem se importar com o fato de que a respiração dele se contrai levemente ao seu toque.

— Sunwoo. – Sua voz é distante, suave e carinhosa.

— Hmm?

— Lembra o que eu disse a você quando fizemos essas tatuagens?

— Como eu poderia esquecer? – Ele ri. — Se você fizer a mesma tatuagem que eu, vou dizer a todos que você quer se casar comigo. – Fala te imitando. — E no dia seguinte, você fez exatamente isso e estamos noivos desde então.

— Bem, você me copiou. A justiça tinha que ser feita! – Você exclama.

— Como eu poderia saber o que você estava fazendo? Você nem sequer me disse!

— Apenas diga que está obcecado por mim e vá embora! – Você esbraveja contra a atitude defensiva dele.

Com isso, Sunwoo imediatamente puxa você para o sofá e para o colo dele. Ele se inclina para perto de seus lábios.

— Estou obcecado por você. – Ele murmura antes de envolvê-la em um beijo profundo.

Gemidos suaves escapam de seus lábios e a língua dele explora sua boca e as mãos dele deslizam por baixo da bainha da camisa, que ele te emprestou, para traçar padrões leves em sua cintura.

Você afasta os lábios dos dele para deixar marcas ao longo do pescoço e da mandíbula, ao chegar no espaço atrás da orelha dele você mordisca gentilmente o lóbulo antes de avisar, sedutora.

— Só eu posso beijar você aqui. – E pressiona um beijo na tatuagem dele. — E aqui.

Você traça a tatuagem da costela dele através da camisa.

— E em qualquer outro lugar onde você possa tê-las. – Você se inclina de volta para os lábios dele, deixando propositalmente um espaço. — Está bem? Ninguém mais vai fazer isso. Nem Krista, nem Kayla, nem ninguém.

Você pergunta, certificando-se de passar seus lábios sobre os dele.

Sunwoo está tão fascinado por você, tão excitado pela sua súbita possessividade, que o cérebro dele esquece momentaneamente como funciona. Mas, quando você começa a se afastar, ele a puxa de volta e se embaralha dizendo.

— Sim, tudo bem. De agora em diante, ninguém além de você vai beijar as minhas tatuagens. – Então ele acrescenta. — Nossas tatuagens. Agora, querida, deixe-me fazer você se sentir bem.

E ele fez.

E em meio à adrenalina você se sente grata pelo fato da confissão não ter mudado nada entre vocês.

[pastelbiu]

"The rose that grew from concrete"

[elizabebabe]

camp woodshine ໑᱖ matt sturniolo

‘just broken people healing each other.’

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆ at the ripe age of 7 camp: woodshine became the center of y/n ‘s happiness, when she left and inevitably became older the bullying she endured deepened sending her back into a dark hole but what happens when she reconnects with the boy she grew close with at camp in their smaller than they thought town?

follow through the memories spiraling in y/n’s mind and back to reality: her harsh reality.

pairing: depressedf!y/n x quiet!matt

they’re in highschool, around 17.

onlychild!matt universe.

warnings: these will update over time so keep an eye out with this list, every chapter will have it’s own warnings so it’s not too important but if you wanted to read them all at once they will be here:

use of y/n, depression, zoning-out, jumping pov’s from child!y/n to teenage!y/n.

chapter 1 preview:

zoning out at the empty spot of your desk, tear stains and rubbed out eyeliner decorating your face.

it’s hard not to go back to the simpler times, your favorite childhood memories.

woodshine.

your mom, noticing your lack of friends and sudden mood changes blissfully unaware of the bullying you suffered from at only 7 years old, decided it would be best to chuck you to camp: woodshine, settled in your small town and known for helping kids with lack of social interaction.

the memories are scattered but conflictingly fresh in your mind, the mind that jumps between the peaceful thoughts taking you out of that cold classroom and to the cabin‘s tucked into a few trees.

“g’morning campers!” the usual morning call, waking all the small bodies around you, you remember the drowsy feeling in the mornings, the chills crawling your skin as soon as the cool air brushes over you...

the smell of snotty girls cozy in a cabin, as weird as it sounded you missed it.

“hey, y/n.” you felt your arm being tapped, the same sweet, calming and comforting voice edging you awake.

“it’s morning sweetheart!” the voice excited as she continued your little routine that would set a tradition with your resistance to awaken.

a ‘humph’ escaped your throat as you were never really a morning person.

‘tap’ ‘tap’

the sound of your pencil hitting at the wooden desk you sat at momentarily bringing you away from the peaceful sun-rays, you focused back on the same spot of your desk, the teacher's stern voice drowned out as you attempted to relive the distant memory.

🏷️ @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @i-love-ptv @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110 @firexovni @bagsbyclair0.

🕰️ dividers: @xxbimbobunnyxx, @saradika-graphics, @plutism.

credits: @sirenedeslily has quickly become one of my favorite blogs and she has easily inspired me to put more work into the things i post, so this post is heavily inspired by her, go check out her blog/stories and ‘YOURS TRULY’ profiles as they’re all done!!

thoughts: i haven’t forgot about love island for any of you that are wondering about it, i know it’s been longer than a month since the last installment but i genuinely lost motivation for a bit since it got repetitive, they wake up, get ready:breakfast, chill, maybe do a challenge, get ready for the evening, talk, sleep. but that doesn’t mean it’s not still being worked on just a little slower than everything else i’m doing since i have to be in a certain mood to write it, just be patient with me and maybe enjoy my other work in the time being, anyway super excited about this, love yous.

soon to be on the rack!

© elizabebabe

[mysteria157]

Equinox

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Black!Fem Reader

Summary: As Fall whispers its approach, you find yourself tangled in Toji's sheets and the remnants of a summer that was never meant to last.

CW: mild intoxication, explicit sexual content, slight angst, mentions of oral (f! receiving), missionary, vaginal sex, fluff and comfort. As always, reader is a black fem.

WC: 4.8K

Author notes: I had an idea for an 'end of summer' fic with Toji that I really needed to write. and I can't focus on anything else until this leaves my mind lol. Inspired by @absoluteindulgence 💕

As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated.

Happy reading!

Header: myself | Divider: @saradika @cafekitsune | @pixelcafe-network💕

Masterlist | Ao3 | Twitter

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

The end of summer carries a unique weight, a bittersweet finality that hits everyone differently. For children, it’s the last wind of freedom—of the final days of sunkissed adventures with each other and nights that never seem to end, before the school bell calls them back to structure and routine. 

For the workforce, it’s a time of transition marked by the ticking clock of fiscal calendars. The not-so-busy days of August give way to a rush of activity—reports to file, budgets to review and close, plans to make for the coming year. Pencil skirts and a turned eye to open-toed shoes slowly shift back to crisp shirts and ironed slacks, polished and prepared for the productivity of fall.

For you, the shift is more powerful. It’s a sign of change that you’ve rehearsed but now find yourself forgetting the lines. It’s of saying goodbye to dalliances and an easy fling, of turning the page and embracing a new part of yourself. A new job. A new relationship status (single). A new outlook on life.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself it would be.

That’s what you tell yourself when you say ‘fuck it’ to monotony on your 30th birthday and decide to let your friends drag you around town. ‘Just try it,’ they giggle as you eye the horse races with a raised eyebrow, the announcer blaring in your ears over the roar of the crowd around you. It’s a place you would never imagine finding yourself. But you say ‘fuck it’ and go along for the ride. Tipsy and smiling from ear to ear as you yell to the wind when the #1 Happy Days crosses the finish line and puts three grand in your pocket.

‘Fuck it’ is what you tell yourself when nonchalant emerald eyes met yours, a scarred pair of lips smirking down as you slide your ticket to the attendee to collect your winnings. Nonchalant but mysterious emerald eyes that trace over your form without grace, eyeing the block sandals and too-tight shimmery silver dress that hugs your curves and shows the smooth brown skin of your thighs.

“Who gave you a heads up about Lucky Days? No way you won on your first try.” His voice is smooth, like fine velvet that ghosts over you.

“The disbelief in your voice tells me you lose often.”

Don’t encourage this.

That’s what you tell yourself when a heavily muscled arm drapes across the collections counter, a whiff of outdoors and mint and man wafting up your nose as his smirk deepens. “I don’t lose.”

The attendant mutters you a kind ‘Happy Birthday’ and slides a modest stack across the counter; your winnings twinkling up at you in crispy green. The large man next to you hasn’t moved, and unfortunately, you are tipsy enough to linger. Tipsy enough to drag your gaze over him with equal disgrace, catching the pale collarbone, angular jaw, and midnight hair that kisses his cheeks.

“Birthday magic then?” he inquires to keep your attention, taking a step closer with a confidence that makes your thighs clench. To you, he’s a tall man…a rugged, tall, and handsome man who lives in an untouched part of your mind. The kind of man that you always fantasize about doing the nastiest things with.

“I don’t know what that means.” You tuck your winnings against your chest, the deep cut of your dress pressing your breasts up against your arms, and his heavy gaze that falls upon them only makes something tingle in your core. “Now, go away before you ruin the rest of my day.” 

Go away before I make a bad decision.

He chuckles, a sound from deep in his chest, rattling the thick fabric of his black sweater. He gestures to your friends who are definitely drunk, downing another shot at the makeshift bar a few yards away. “You’ve got time.” 

“Not for you, I don’t,” you lie through your teeth, trying and failing to hold your breath when he takes another step. 

“You wanna bet, baby?”

Your reply catches in the back of your throat. Words that you know you should say right now. Words that you’ve had to speak to men countless times whenever you decide to go out and have fun and show any sort of skin past your ankle. Your bodies brush together, and you can’t tell if he wants you or the nice stack of cash resting on your tits.

But you don’t care.

“Something tells me, you’re not very good at gambling,” is what you retort, eyes locked on his, intention and desire radiating from you both as the little voice inside your head drowns in your arousal.

He’s bad news. This is a bad idea.

That’s what you tell yourself when you spend half your winnings with him on Takoyaki and a lost race. That’s what you tell yourself when you straddle his thick waist later that night, the frazzled ends of your dress pushed up over your ribs, panties shoved to the side with little fanfare. Taking a cock thicker than what you were used to, oozing an attachment you know won’t be good for you, finally asking for his name an hour later after he has you panting on your stomach from another orgasm.

“Toji Fushiguro,” he chuckles against the nape of your neck, nipping at the thin skin with sharp teeth that trail down your back, hiking your hips up before you gasp at the feel of his tongue between your sensitive folds as he eats you out from the back.

This is a bad idea.

That’s what you tell yourself when you wake up the next morning, sunlight streaming through unfamiliar curtains, your body pleasantly sore, your dress on the floor across the room, and your mind hazy with memories of the night before. You slip out before he wakes up, phone already pressed to your ear and prepared to get an earful from your friends for disappearing, now more determined than ever to make sure this was a one-time thing.

But summer has other plans.

Your plan to pick up fresh fruit from the farmer’s market is ruined when you run into his broad shoulders and easy grin, a stark contrast to the colorful produce around him. Your plan to enjoy the beach is gone with the salty wind when you see him again days later, droplets of seawater clinging to his muscled skin, making him glisten in the sunlight. Each encounter leads to another night of passion, another afternoon of embracing a sexual side of yourself you never knew was there, another morning of promises to yourself that this will be the last time.

Until eventually, something has to give. 

Just for the summer. No strings. No awkward conversations. Just sex. Because once the summer is over, you’ll be in a new office across town, too busy to entertain a relationship, let alone anything else in your life.

Just for the summer.

But as the weeks pass, something shifts. Stolen mornings of Toji’s head between your thighs because he was ‘in the neighborhood’ begin to stretch into lazy afternoons, you teaching him to cook fried green tomatoes and showing him the steps of your hair care routine. Hurried encounters in bathroom stalls with your legs wrapped around his waist and his filthy words in your ear give way to lingering touches and shared laughter at the absurdity of it all.

You find yourself opening up to him, sharing parts of yourself over ice cream cones he swears he can’t stand but eats anyway, the edges of his favorite—but won’t admit—Rocky Road melting too quickly in the summer heat over his pale hands. He starts to let his guard down, revealing glimpses of vulnerability behind those forest-green eyes. Of a harsh past, a complicated present, and a son overseas whom he hopes to see soon.

Maybe it was the Sunday afternoon when a sudden thunderstorm trapped you both in his apartment, leading to hours of conversation punctuated by rumbling thunder. Maybe it was the early evening you found him at the pier, silhouetted against a spectacular sunset, a tension in his shoulders and a quietness you had never seen or felt before.

You try so hard to ignore the changes in Toji’s behavior. The way his hand lingers on the small of your back when you are in public. The sight of your favorite snacks appearing in his kitchen because he is ‘tired of hearing you complain about him not having any food.’ The soft look in his eyes that you catch at odd moments while you both watch movies. 

‘Just for the summer’ has become an agreement that you both have not read the guidelines for in quite some time.

Now, as the first hints of autumn whisper through the trees outside, you find yourself exactly where you swore you wouldn’t be—tangled in Toji’s sheets that always smell too good and his warm body a solid presence behind you that always feels too safe. The room is covered in the gentle glow of dawn, a midnight blue breaking open for soft auburn, and you’re acutely aware of his arm draped over your waist, a muscled leg lodged between yours, his breath a steady rhythm against the nape of your neck.

You need to get up. Tomorrow is your first day at a new firm and you’ve let Toji keep you distracted from preparing. From shopping for new outfits and getting your hair done. From the inevitable of whatever the hell this is.

Instead, you turn carefully in his arms, the movement doing nothing to rouse him. You study his face in the gentle morning light that’s now gotten a little brighter. The scar at the corner of his mouth, once a symbol of a mysterious allure, is now as familiar as your reflection.

Hair the color of ink splays across his face, disheveled and frizzy, a few strings of silver at the roots above his ear. Before, you could get a good look at him while he slept and smirk to yourself that this would be your ride for so many weeks of summer. A fleeting but appreciative glance before you ducked away and left before he could open his eyes. Now as you look at him, your heart tightens with an emotion you’ve been trying to ignore for just as long.

This was a bad idea.

As if sensing your gaze, Toji’s eyes flutter open. For a heartbeat, two, he simply stares at you. The green in his eyes is deep, mesmerizing in the early morning light, still hazy with sleep but quickly sharpening as he focuses on your face. You can finally see the openness there, a susceptibility you occasionally find when he’s fully awake. You can never maintain eye contact in moments like this. It makes your breath catch in your throat because he’s too close, too intense, too much.

Wordlessly, Toji tightens his hold, pulling you flush against him. Your naked bodies mold together, the warmth of his skin seeps into yours, and you have to bite back a content sigh. There’s so much you’ve had to hold back lately to acclimate yourself to the eventual change. Then, with a gentleness that still surprises you, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder. 

“What time is it?” he mumbles, unfortunate soft lips trailing up to the sensitive spot behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You struggle to focus, his touch already making your heady fuzzy and jumbled. You glance at the nightstand, where the clock face peeks out from behind a summer’s worth of memories. Sun-bleached seashells from lazy beach days rest against crumpled ticket stubs, reminders of nights when you belted out lyrics while Toji pretended not to enjoy himself. 

“Just past seven,” you manage to whisper, somehow getting the words out as Toji’s touch scatters your thoughts further like the trinkets on the nightstand.

Toji hums in response, his chest vibrating against yours. “Too early,” he says, a low rumble that you feel between your thighs, awakening a hunger that only he knows how to satiate. “Stay a bit longer.”

He smells faintly of bonfire smoke from last night—an impromptu farewell to summer party thrown by your friends that ended with you both stumbling back to his apartment, tearing at each other’s clothes, his hands pulling an orgasm from you before your back could even hit the mattress. Last night was different—more intense, more passionate. A mess of sweaty limbs and heavy breathing as you panted against him, trying to wave your own white flag of surrender that never quite made it past your lips each time he gave you more, more, more, unwilling to let the night end.

As Toji shifts to hover above you, you’re struck by the familiar weight of him, how it feels a little too close to home. It’s comfortable when his waist rests against yours, his cock slowly hardening against your thigh. His kisses, once desperate and searing, have softened. They still ignite a fire in you, but it’s a steady burn now, deep and enduring in the core of your stomach.

“I should really get going,” you implore, but your voice wavers, free of the conviction you desperately need right now. “New job tomorrow, remember?”

“Hmm,” he hums again to the column of your throat. He lifts his head, his gaze fierce and penetrating. Outside, the birds begin their morning call, warming their wings to prepare for their journey south. “You’ve got time,” he says softly, echoing words from that first night at the horse track. He goes back into the crook of your neck, chapped lips pressing to your skin with promise. “Stay.” It sounds too much like a demand, punctuated by a thorough roll of his hips. Your own cant towards him without thinking. “I’ll make breakfast.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your chest, remembering the last time he tried to sway you longer in his bed a few weeks ago. You realized when you choked on a too-wet pancake that Toji’s culinary skills were limited at best. “You? Cook?”

A punishing nip to your neck makes you gasp, your fingers sliding up his back to dig into muscled meat. “I can manage eggs. Probably. Might even use those tomatoes we grew.”

The ‘we’ doesn’t escape your notice. The small vegetable patch was your idea, a whim that blurted from your mouth on a sweltering day, eyes bulging and lips ready to backtrack before he agreed and it became a shared project. Like so many things between you, it grew into something more when you weren’t paying attention. 

Toji’s hand traces random patterns on your skin, soft between your breasts and over your navel before brushing folds that are already wet. You shouldn’t widen your legs more, but you do. Shouldn’t bite your lip in that telling sign that you’re wanting, but you do that too. “Got that job site inspection next week,” he says, aiming for casual. “Not far from where you’ll be.”

You swallow a deep-seated mewl that gurgles in the back of your throat when his fingers circle your clit, calloused pads the right amount of rough to ignite that fire in your stomach. Next week is beyond the boundary you both had set, beyond the promise of ‘just this summer.’ Hope, so unwanted in this very moment but also so overwhelming and bright as the early September sun, flares in your chest.

“T-toji,” you choke out to the feel of a thick finger collecting the slick that leaks from you before sliding inside. The heel of his palm brushes against your clit with every thrust of his hand, and your body responds to him quickly. 

You walked into this thinking you would be able to wipe your hands of him and say goodbye when the leaves began to fall. But it didn’t take long for Toji to learn how to take you apart, to open you up and see how you ticked before sewing you back together with a skill that still surprises you. 

Your fingernails press into his back, a practiced demand for more and he rewards you with a stern but satisfied gaze and another finger in your wet cunt. The hand not working your core cards through your curls, twisting at your nape before tilting your head back, exposing more of your neck with a wet gasp from your lips. His tongue glides along your skin, tasting bonfire smoke and ocean salt, a rumble in his chest, and a curl of his wet fingers to show how much he enjoys it. How much he enjoys the taste of you.

“Stay,” he demands again, nipping your earlobe, a third finger sliding into your cunt and you moan sharply at the stretch. You’re a little sore from last night, but your body welcomes the ache and rejoices in the brush against the spongy spot inside of you that he hits with precision. That fire in your belly roils quicker than what you want, bubbling to the surface and ready to burst with an orgasm that’s pressing at your skin. You’re already gasping, already moaning, already fighting the urge to beg him for the thing that’s thicker and heavier between his legs.

“Did you hear me?” he asks, purring low in your ear. You can only nod as you savor the clench of muscles in your stomach from his ministrations below, the sound of his hand sopping wet as he plays with you. “Then answer me.”

You can’t. Even though you’ve rehearsed this exact conversation for the past week. Even though you’ve prepared the right words if he tried to make you sing for him one last time. You can’t speak. Because the realization that Toji is doing what he can to keep you here makes your breath hitch and the fire in your belly finally erupts as a moan falls from your mouth as if you’ve been gutted, your orgasm locking your muscles around him. You turn your head into the pillow beneath you, panting and body trembling, your nape tingling from his grip, the clock on his nightstand blurry because you have to keep your eyes on something besides his steely gaze that spears your skin.

As your orgasm fades into the chilly air around you, you know you’ve given too much, and you can’t let this go on. Reluctantly, you turn your head back to face him, ready to retreat. His crumbling, guarded gaze now holds a mix of desire and something deeper, more vulnerable and raw that’s too much for you right now. Toji’s jaw clenches as if he’s holding back more words. As if he’s frustrated with your unwillingness to give him what he wants.

Instead of speaking, Toji presses his forehead against yours, an intimate gesture that makes you wish he would have used his words instead. But this speaks more than words ever could. His breathing, usually calm and controlled even in the throes of sex, comes in short, ragged bursts, betraying whatever he’s trying to hide. 

It’s a rare sight. You’ve seen it on the nights he convinces you to stay over and he shoots up from his sleep, panting like he’s run a mile, the silver of moonlight kissing the scars on his back and telling you a story without having to ask. You saw it weeks ago when you both screamed at each other for the first time, a joke of you going on a date turned sour, his shoulders heaving in anger and eyes trying and failing to hold his true thoughts back.

It’s the same right now. Black hair swaying over his forehead as he hovers over you, the hand from between your legs now digging into the flesh of your hip with wet fingers. You notice the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips part as if he wants to say something. They twitch for a fraction of a second, opening and closing just once before he leans in to kiss you, as if he’s suddenly unsure of his welcome.

And you hate how quickly you show just how welcome he is, sighing into his body and wrapping your arms around his neck. You hate how quickly your body reignites, hips arching up to brush against his pulsing cock, the touch producing a low groan from him into your mouth. He ruts against you, rubbing your dripping cunt in rough but practiced circles that make you whine against him. 

The summer is ending, you remind yourself. This has to end, you beg yourself even as you pull away from him, panting against wet lips that somehow always taste of the peppermint candy he refuses to go without. You reach down to wrap your hand around him, swallowing the hiss that shoots from him as you guide him to where you need him most. Toji enters you slowly, deliberately, cataloging the way you arch into him, your bodies fitting together like the last two pieces of a puzzle you’ve been working on all season.

Through the cracked window that Toji refuses to close every night, you hear the world slowly wake up—school buses and more bird calls mixing with your ragged breaths as he moves within you. Deep and with purpose, wanting but with a tinge of frustration. Your fingers dig into his back, leaving crescent moons that some part of you hopes never fade after you’re long gone. 

Each thrust feels like falling—falling into him, falling into feelings you weren’t prepared for, falling like the leaves outside that signal the end of one season and the beginning of another. The pleasure courses through you, building slowly, steadily.

You relax your nails on his back, roaming instead, feeling the flex and ripple of muscles beneath your fingertips. The landscape feels different now, charged with electricity that makes your skin tingle and your heart race.

The pressure builds within you, a warmth spreading from your core outwards, hot and pulsing with every brush of his pubic bone against your clit. It squeezes the sides of your neck, making it harder to breathe, to think, to act. Your breath comes in short, sharp pants, mingling with the crisp morning air.

Toji’s hands leave your hips, reaching up to grab your wrists. He presses them into the pillow, one on each side of your head, opening you up and leaving you exposed while he takes you apart with every roll of his hips.

“Fuck, Toji,” you whine, gasping into the air as you arch into him. “Don’t—”

“You’ve gotta answer me, sweetheart,” Toji’s voice resonates low and insistent as he kisses up your neck, groaning in satisfaction when you clench around him in reflex. “I know you can,” he urges, his rhythm never faltering and his voice strained, “Tell me you’ll stay.”

You want to tell him to shut up. To stop it and give you one last mind-blowing orgasm and leave this alone like you both agreed. But you can’t. Each of Toji’s movements pulls moan after moan from deep within you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head before you squeeze your lids shut so you don’t have to look at him.

Suddenly, one of Toji’s hands releases a wrist, and before you can react, his palm cups the side of your face, his touch unexpectedly gentle. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, a tender gesture that contrasts with the intensity of his thrusts. With careful pressure, he turns your face towards him.

You shouldn’t look at him, but your eyes flutter open to meet his anyway, sharp and powerful. His hand on your face is warm, almost cradling, yet insistent in its silent plea for your attention. You feel exposed under his scrutiny. Your body is bare along with your emotions, raw and unfiltered. “Stay,” he breathes once again, softer this time even though the heavy meaning pounds against you, unrelenting and harsh.

The hand on your cheek slides between your bodies before you feel his fingers on your clit, pleasure rocking through you like lightning, and you tighten around him. 

“Squeeze around me just like that,” he hisses at the feel of you, his breath hot against your skin, and you obey immediately, savoring the sharp grunt from his chest. “So fucking beautiful.” He’s said it so many times before but now it feels different. Dangerous. 

The fingers of your free hand dig into Toji’s shoulders, holding on for dear life as he fucks you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, your body sliding up and down on the sheets.

“Oh,” you gasp, “Oh fuck Toji—I can’t—” Your body shakes against him, hips rolling with his fingers on your clit. You’re painfully aware of every sensation: the slide of skin on skin, slick with sweat; the subtle creak of the mattress beneath you and the thump of the headboard against the wall; the rustle of the sheets tangled around your legs. 

“Give it all to me, baby,” he encourages and you want to shake your head ‘no’ because you feel like he’s asking you for something else. “Let go for me.”

“I can’t,” you plead against his lips again, shaking your head even as your body speaks differently. Trying to finally tell him without actually telling him. You can’t let him in and get hurt. You can’t be brave enough to take a chance.

But like every challenge Toji has ever been given, he faces it directly, taking in your meaning immediately. The hand on your wrist slides up to your palm, his calloused fingers intertwining with yours. The pleasure intensifies, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. It’s almost too much, this feeling of fullness, of completeness.

“Look at me,” he demands softly. As your eyes meet his, he whispers, “I need you here. With me.”

It’s the raw emotion in his gaze, the sharp shift from his usual gruff words, the sudden feel of his lips against yours as he kisses you, and the terrifying realization that this man wants more than just your body that pushes you over the edge. Your release crashes over you like a chilling wave, powerful and all-consuming. You cry out, breaking from his lips as your back arches, body shuddering, as intense pleasure radiates through every nerve.

Not even a moment later, the tightening of your body from your release is enough to take Toji with you. He slides a hand beneath you, crushing you up against him, hard muscles against soft brown skin as he tenses and groans low and deep into the air, painting your insides warm with his cum. You both collapse, breathing erratically, his weight a welcome suffocation.

In this moment of ecstasy, suspended between summer and fall, between what was and what could be, you finally acknowledge that something fundamental has shifted. Like the turning of the seasons, there’s no going back. And as you cling to Toji, riding out the aftershocks of your shared passion, you find that the word he’s asking for remains lodged in your throat, your mind a battleground between desire and fear, between staying and leaving. But you know you need to say something.

“Toji,” you start after a few minutes when your breathing has calmed down, uncertainty heavy in your voice. “We said—”

“I know what we said,” he interrupts, rough and frustrated and something else. He lifts his head, jade-green eyes meeting yours, his want clear in their depths. “Just—fuck. Maybe we…can say something different now.”

Toji may be guarded in the things he says, but he has never lied. Not to you. And there’s no lie in his features now. There’s no morning haziness to show you his vision and thoughts are clouded. There’s no sinful smirk that hides true intentions. It’s pure honesty.

And as you search his face, a gust of wind rattles the wind chimes outside that you hung together, carrying with it the scent of sun-warmed grass through his cracked window. You can’t help but think of all the moments that led to this—moments you tried to ignore—the laughter, the lust that burned into something deeper, the quiet understanding that grew between you as the summer days stretched long and golden.

His hand intertwined with yours gives you a firm squeeze, pulling you from your thoughts. “Stay,” Toji says one final time, and the finality of it means more than just this morning. More than just this summer.

The sunlight breaks through the brisk air to hit your cooling skin, warming you from the inside along with him atop you. You want to finally say ‘okay,’ but you’re still too afraid to speak, too afraid to ruin this moment with your words in case you back down at the last minute.

So instead, you give his intertwined fingers a firm squeeze as well, hoping that tells him what he needs to know. Hoping that tells him you have the courage to stay…right now.

Or at least just for the Fall.

Thanks for reading!

[jaeyunluvr]

HE'S PRETTY BUT... — A MINI SERIES

synopsis :: all of the things you hate about nishimura riki, despite him being utterly beautiful. and all of the things that made you fall in love with him, not just because he's beautiful.

pairing :: nishimura riki x female!reader

contains :: highschool au, underage smoking, angst, fluff, comfort + more to be added

taglist :: @pockettwinzz @alvojake @lukesboo @rikisgeef @seunghancore @eloelooo @ritzy-dream-boy @natsukee @sol3chu @laurradoesloveu @riksaes (please send in an ask to be added to the taglist!)

date of release :: tba <3

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

© JAEYUNLUVR, 2024

divider credits :: @/saradika-graphics

[amongemeraldclouds]

Masterlist: Mattheo Riddle

Key: ♡ fluff | ☆ smut | ☽ angst

© amongemeraldclouds I do not consent to having my work shared, translated, or reproduced elsewhere. Please do not claim as your own, tumblr is the only place I publish my written work.

♡ Firewhiskey Confessions | 810 words After drinking to cope with your heartbreak, you find a reliable confidante to spill your guts to. Except, he is not who he seems.

♡ Mattheo’s Gamble | 677 words Anguished by your tragic passing in the Second Wizarding War, Mattheo makes a bet with the Grim Reaper to get you back (features different AUs).

♡ May I have this dance? | 191 words Modern AU | Celebrate your career win by convincing your boyfriend to dance with you.

☽ Spoiler Alert | 1k words Life can be complicated when you possess a rare kind of magic: the ability to see your future with someone upon meeting them. A chance encounter with Mattheo Riddle reveals more than you bargained for.

♡ But Daddy I Love Him | 872 words Mattheo and the Slytherin boys rescue you from your father who held you captive one day before your wedding.

♡ So High School | 643 words Going on a motorcycle ride with Mattheo after he aced the test you tutored him for.

♡ imgonnagetyouback | 2.8k words Mattheo Riddle should have known better than to break your heart. Now he was about to get everything he deserved.

♡ Bewitched | 1.4k words Three moments you fell for your sworn enemy and that time Mattheo’s feelings for you finally caught up to him.

♡ Love blooms in strange places | 1.7k words When Mattheo was assigned to help you tend to the greenhouse as punishment, he never expect detention could be so pleasant.

18+ content | Minors do not interact

☆ All Night | 1.4k words Threesome with Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader. No plot, just smut.

☆ Chasing Highs | 2.6k words Threesome with Lorenzo Berkshire x f!Reader. No plot, just smut.

Navigation

✿ Main masterlist ✿ Slytherin boys ✿ Lorenzo Berkshire ✿ Theodore Nott ✿ Jess Mariano ✿ About me

Credit: All dividers used are by @saradika-graphics

[mooishbeam]

♡ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: cold and bleak is the village burdened by curses. a town once crumbled and wrecked by tragedy now carries whispers in the wind for their malevolent savior. each year the locals deliver an offering for "the crimson king", a monster—or hero—of few words, who'd tear the skin off any mortal who dared disavow him. you're given the unfortunate responsibility of bestowing this year's offering. however, you slowly come to realize the humanoid you feared buried a living, breathing heart surrounded in stone.

♡ 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: demon!toji x afab!reader

♡ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐰: 18+ MINORS DNI, minor character death, blood/gore, demon au, slow burn, bullying, near-death experiences, trauma/familial trauma, family dynamics, yuji is your brother, secret relationship, lots of angst, fluff, toji is bad with feelings, confessed feelings, comfort towards the end, smut, virginity loss, nsfw tags will be added to each part

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: hii! ive been thinking about starting this series for a couple weeks now so i think ill just put the series tab here hehe. i cant promise its coming out anytime soon, my life has been really hectic lately but its coming eventually i promise!! if u want to be tagged in the parts lmk in the comments! art by kinoko927573 on twitter and the dividers are @saradika-graphics ♡

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Malignant Penalty ✧. ┊TBA    

A Burning Hill ✧. ┊TBA    

Promise ✧. ┊TBA    

© mooishbeam - please don't steal, copy, or post my work to other platforms :)

[geodynee]

—; 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x GenderNeutral! reader. ( AnyPOV ) Warning: Established relationship, fluff, reader having a nightmare, comfort, drabble(?) Summary: Miguel comforting you while you're having a nightmare. Word count: 531 words.

—A/N: This is all fluffy, Miguel being soft allat. I always imagine him being a gentle giant towards you, as his lover. And he is like, suuupeer protective of you because of his trauma.

I tried to make you as neutral as possible. Because I wanted to make it more immersive. So, yeah-

“Ay, cariño. Wake up.”

Miguel’s heart clenched as he watched you toss and turn. Another nightmare. The dim glow from the bedside lamp cast shadows on the walls. Your low, distressed murmurs pierced the silence, breath hitching now and then.

No, there's no way he would let you continue sleeping like this. He cupped your cheeks, thumbs tracing soothing circles along your skin. “Bebé… Shh… I am here. It’s okay,” Miguel whispered. He shifted his hand from your cheeks to stroke your hair, the soft strands slipping through his fingers. “It’s alright, mi amor. It’s just a bad dream.”

But your body remained tense, legs tangled in the covers, mumbling words he couldn’t quite understand. Miguel could see the toll reality had taken on you, evident in the way your brow furrowed even in sleep. No wonder you were having nightmares.

Miguel wrapped his arms around you as soon as he sensed how much the nightmare affected you. Pulling you close, his hand rested at the back of your head. The steady beat of his heart thumped against your ear as he held you, your warmth providing a small comfort for him amidst his growing concern over you.

“Shh… Ssh…” He shushed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss beside your ear. “I’ve got you.” He wasn’t going to let go, not until he felt you relax—not until you were back with him, safe from whatever your mind was putting you through. You meant too much to him—he’d do anything to comfort you, even if it meant staying awake all night, holding you like this.

After minutes passed, your breath finally began to steady, slowly unwinding from the tension. Your eyes fluttered open, clouded with the remnants of sleep.

Miguel exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath. A small smile formed as he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath brushed your skin. “There you are,” relief washed over him, his voice soft. “I’ve got you, cariño. Nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m here.”

Outside, the rain pattered softly against the windows, a soothing backdrop to the late hour. You blinked, still disoriented. But when your eyes met his, you could feel your heart fluttered.

“Do you want me to hold you a bit longer?” Miguel asked.

In response to his question, you nodded and let your body slowly relax in his embrace. The tension melted away as you buried your head into his chest, like finding shelter from a storm in the warmth of his embrace. A sigh escaped your lips, drawing a low chuckle from him. How adorable.

His hand lingered on the back of your head, sensing your body starting to relax. All he wanted was for you to be comfortable. The way your body softened into his—your breathing even and steady, it was all he needed, even if just for a moment. Right now, all that mattered was you.

And he’d make sure that nothing—not even himself—would ever hurt you.

“Mhm. That’s it,” he murmured, holding you close. “You can go back to sleep, cariño. I’m not going anywhere.” His fingers still gently tangled in your hair as he kissed your forehead,

“Te amo, mi vida.”

✎ Geodyne on Tumblr. © divider : @saradika-graphics. @rookthornesartistry

[minhypen]

　　BLiNDiNG LiGHTS. . .　 ◜✧◞

──── .✦ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏OH, THE SHiNE OF A THOUSAND SPOTLiGHTS . . .

KEY ✴︎ series ⟡ oneshot ♬ drabble

go back

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　◜ 2020◞

✴︎ 　　DREAM GLOW. . .　THE OFF-ROAD TRACK TO STARDOM

summary. New beginnings are never easy. Especially when you're away from your family in a whole new country, surrounded by people you barely know and competing fiercely for a one out of ten chance at your dream. But Park Minyoung was a little fighter, and she was determined to emerge victorious in this game of survival. ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏

00. Prologue 01. The ugly brown cube and its wackass rules 02. The hand that feeds 03. Even lucky girls have shitty days 04. This beef has bitter taste 05. Hero-mura Riki to the rescue

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　◜ 2021◞

✴︎ 　　SPARKS FLY. . .　THE ONE THREE WAY TO LOVE-LAND

summary. Unreleased.

✴︎ 　　LOViNG YOU RiGHT. . .　THE RELATiONSHiP MiLESTONES

summary. A little playful, a little clumsy and a whole lot lovely⎯⎯the Sparks Fly bonus containing the important moments of Minyoung's relationship with her boyfriends.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　◜ 2024◞

✴︎ 　　FiFTY SHADES. . .　OF MY BOYFRiENDS

summary. Park Minyoung talks about the different sides to her boyfriends' perfect personality through some adorable anectodes.

NiSHiMURA RiKi　Weird ››

SELENE'S NOTES : divider credit (@/saradika). send an ask to be added to my taglist. likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! and if you notice all the series titles are related to lights of some sort, just know that it's intentional :)

NEXT UPDATE : 24 SEPTEMBER

TAGLiST : OPEN

@queenriki7 ; @kangseulgithegreat ; @terryfiedgyu ; @d-dilemma ; @enhaslxt ; @loveyjisu

LiNK TO NAVi

© MiNHYPEN 　　(　　all rights reserved　　) kindly read the rules before interacting

[enwoso]

navigation 🌺

england wnt, arsenal w, 19 ♡

requests are open!

MASTERLIST

WIPS

RULES + WHO I WRITE FOR

© enwoso i do not give anyone permission to copy, translate or claim my work as their own or post it on other sites

divider from: @saradika

[earthpleasures]

✉  𐫦LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE ! | pjo various (smau)

luke castellan x fem!child of athena!reader, percy jackson x annabeth chase, clarisse larue x chris rodriguez, silena beauregard x charles beckendorf.

⠀⥱ y/ntheowl : reader

⠀⥱ thiefofhearts : luke castellan

⠀⥱ wisegirl : annabeth chase

⠀⥱ seaweedbrain : percy jackson

⠀ ⥱ drakonslayer : clarisse larue

⠀⥱ chrisiee : chris rodriguez

⠀⥱ warbarbie : silena beauregard

⠀ ⥱ bestblacksmith : charles beckendorf

⠀ ⥱ olderprankster : travis stoll

⠀ ⥱ youngerprankster : connor stoll

dividers by @saradika

seaweedbrain happy birthday babe, light of my life (and #1 ass saver) @/wisegirl

chrisiee dang okay we see them🟢🔵

-> seaweedbrain bro's bitchy cus he forgot clarisse's birthday👍🏻

-> chrisiee listen here you bitch-

y/ntheowl fav couple ♡ (after silena and charles🤭)

-> wisegirl i am your sister??? what happened to sisterly bond???

-> y/ntheowl i don't remember sisterly bond existing when it was your turn to clean cabine🧐

thiefofhearts i remember fetus percabeth and how many headaches you two gave us 😔

-> seaweedbrain says the man who was scared of Annabeth he had a crush on her sister💀

-> drakonslayer lmao at least he knew who he liked, you two were straight up morons

y/ntheowl my pretty princess ♥️ @/thiefofhearts

thiefofhearts YOU SAID YOU WON'T SHARE

-> y/ntheowl whoopsie🤭

-> thiefofhearts Y/N

-> thiefofhearts tf you mean whoopsie 😭

olderprankster never ever seen a prettier princess 🌹🌹

-> youngerprankster let it go, let it gooo

-> olderprankster I AM ONE WITH THE WIND AND SKYYYY

-> thiefofhearts i see you two are quite voluntary to clean hermes cabin

-> youngerprankster YOU CANT MAKE US

-> thiefofhearts i am the counselor🙂

-> olderprankster THAT’S POWER ABUSE

warbarbie definitely slayed the suit babes

-> y/ntheowl thanks lovee

y/ntheowl "hE wAS my biG bRo bEfOre hE wAs yOur boYfRieNd" COME AT ME YOU LITTLE SHIT 🥊🥊🥊 @/seaweedbrain @/thiefofhearts

thiefofhearts when did you take this??

-> wisegirl YOURE SMOKING!!?!?

-> thiefofhearts ...next question...

seaweedbrain can't change the truthhhh

-> y/ntheowl i ain't playing with your childish ass

-> seaweedbrain winner takes Luke for a whole day without other interrupting?

-> y/ntheowl okay, FUCK THE MATURITY WHEN WHERE

-> thiefofhearts did I just witness a bet forming on ME without ME KNOWING!?

wisegirl quick reminder! ITS NOT OKAY TO SMILE AND TAKE SELFIES AFTER YOUR BOYFRIEND SET THE WHOLE CABIN ON FIRE @/warbarbie

warbarbie bummer☹️☹️

-> drakonslayer don't listen to her love of my life, you're perfect the way you're ❤️❤️

-> warbarbie thank u bae🥰

-> bestblacksmith 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈???

-> chrisiee siri, is my gf gay for her bsf?💀💀

seaweedbrain 💯💯💯 activite

-> drakonslayer for the first time in my life I agree with this idiot, a sign for apocalypse in my opinion

-> seaweedbrain 🖕🏻

-> drakonslayer 🖕🏻🖕🏻

©2024 earthpleasures do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[jadeee]

Muse of Mundanity

Nanami sees you have a meltdown in your car at work and decides to be your personal support for work-related things.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: anxiety & swearing

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika ©

I couldn't wait until tomorrow!: @goddessinsweats @nanami-s-sunshine @daisynik7 @imnotsureaboutwhatimdoing @mahirublue

It'd been six months and two weeks. Every single day you woke up with that weight on your chest. It sat on you when you brushed your teeth, got dressed, and ate breakfast. It was still with you when you pulled into the parking space you claimed as your own. Your own personal cloud of dread, how lovely.

You put the car in park and stared straight ahead. There wasn't any need to check the clock. You always showed up a few minutes early just for this moment. 

"Everything's okay. I'm going to be fine."

Soft soothing words didn't ease the knot in your stomach. They didn't stop tears from forming in the corner of your eyes. 

"Get it together." you clenched your fists in your lap and tried to focus on your breathing. Anything to stop you from acting like a child ... until your eyes darted toward the clock, 8:55.

The tears came a bit faster then and your nostrils flared. Your sniffles only acted as encouragement for that dam to break. After a moment of tense muscles and rapid breaths, it finally happened. Those six months and two weeks morphed into screams and shouts in your car for an audience of one. 

Nanami didn't care enough to be here but he needed the money. Or maybe he wanted it ... he decided to stop asking himself the difference a long time ago. No matter how you looked at it, one thing was absolute: it was necessary.

So he walked to the doors of the corporately disguised prison with a blank face. His eyes glazed over the typical scenery: the same cars parked in the same place, the same half dead plant by the entrance, the same ... wait ...

His eyes focused on the car that jostled in its parking space. When he slowed his cadence to glance through the window, the only thing he could make out were muffled curses and flailing limbs.

The palms of your hands were hot with pain. After you were done throwing your tantrum, you rested your head on the steering wheel. The last of your silent sobs escaped from your lips. Your eyes glazed over the clock, 9:01. 

"Shit." 

A whimper filled the sad silence of your car. It was the last note to your Muse of Mundanity. Though you were reluctant, you pieced yourself together. You looked at your reflection in the mirror and forced a smile. It only made you cringe so you buried it deep down with the rest of you.

Rather than look at you, he focused on your voice, the pace of your steps, and your tone. You weren't in a rush. You didn't sound cheery or pleasant, you were just ... there. 

When you finally sat down at your desk and had your back turned, Nanami decided he was thirsty. His eyes glanced at you as he walked to the break room. Did no one else see it?

He watched a coworker talk to you about a report. As the exchange carried on, he knit his brows. When they walked off, he saw the small pout you made and how you rested your head in your hand as you stared at your computer screen. He finished his drink then started to walk back to his desk, but his feet did an odd thing. They turned down your row and walked right up to you. 

You faced him with raised brows and he cursed his body for betraying him.

"I can take that report from you."

Each second he stood in front of you, his cheeks were turning into a soft pink hue.

"Uh, are you sure?"

"I'm sure," the heat was starting to creep up his neck "it's a complex one and you're still learning."

The string of words you tried to get out only fell apart, so he spoke for you.

"Don't worry about it." he reached over and grabbed the file from your desk then retreated to his own safe haven. 

The report was simple. It wasn't anything you couldn't handle but he thought you needed a break. He wanted to make sure you were okay. More than anything, he wanted to tell you it would be okay. To hold your hand maybe or give you a hug ... a kiss, perhaps. You were attractive but he didn't entertain the thought until now. He wanted to do all these things. More than anything though, he wanted to kick himself when he noticed you approaching him as he was lost in thought.

"Is now a bad time?"

Suddenly at a loss for words, he shook his head. Why did you have to look him in the eye? Why were you standing so far away? Would you move closer? Should he-

"Nanami?"

Dammit, his chest rose and fell slightly "Sorry, what were you saying?"

You suppressed the smile that wanted to burst through and he wished you didn't.

"Thank you ... that's all."

A piece of your smile showed itself as you caught his eye. The cherry blossom pink spread across his cheeks. Yes, he was eager but he refused to show it. He noticed how your fingers fidgeted by your thighs.

"Do you need something for your hands?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Your palms. I noticed they were red earlier."

You looked at your own hands since he made you forget about your personal cloud of dread. "Oh, I'm fine."

Liar, he thought, except he concealed the secret and gave you a small nod.

"Was there anything I could help you with? Reports, I mean." or anything really? There goes his mind again.

You smiled then and he'd never been thankful for something so small. 

"No. Thank you, though."

"Anytime."

Epilogue:

Someone said your name but you weren't used to the voice yet. When you turned around, you recognized the face and grinned. Your eyes noticed how his sleeves were rolled up today. Did his hair look different?

"Did you have any other complex reports?"

"Um," you glanced at the stack of papers at your desk and plucked a random one from the pile. "Can you actually walk me through this?"

Touches of pink dabbed his cheeks then as he leaned over and you tried to focus on the spreadsheet he was holding.

Author's Note: I'd like to think Nanami would make it a point to say 'hi' to you in the mornings and at the end of each workday. Ugh.. work husband/work wife but he'd actually marry you irl 🙇🏾‍♀️ i have way too many ideas for coworker!nanami

[askinkiskarma]

uɐǝɯ I ʇɐɥʍ ʍouʞ ʇ’uplnoʍ no⅄

uɐǝlɔ ʇǝǝɹʇs ǝɥʇ ɟo ǝpıs ʎɯ dǝǝʞ I

20s | she/her | minors DNI, this blog is 18+ only

➽ ao3 | arcane blog

!! do not repost my works without my consent !!

© askinkiskarma 2024

thank you to @saradika for the amazing dividers 🤍

[infin1ty-garden]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 100 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION PROMPT LIST!

In celebration of reaching 100 followers, a new prompt list!

✧. ┊ I will NOT write smut, inappropriate relationships (e.i. teacher/student, father/daughter...), pregnancy fics, dark fics, underage character, political content, please do not request things containing major spoilers, character x OC

✧. ┊ I WILL write character(s) (from the fandom list) x reader as well as alternate universe fic. Sometimes I will write character x character

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ FANDOMS I WRITE FOR! - here!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ NEW ADDITIONS!

✧. ┊ WUTHERING WAVES - rover, chixia, yangyang, sanhua, jiyan & jinhsi

✧. ┊ HOTD - cregan stark, gwayne hightower, haelena targaryen, jacaerys velaryon & rhaenyra targaryen

✧. ┊ DUNE - paul atreides, feyd-rautha harkonnen & chani kynes

✧. ┊ MONKEY MAN - kid (monkey man)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ FIRST!

✧. ┊ welcome to infinity garden! please first choose if you want:

i. bouquet - one shot ii. corsage - headcanons

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ THEN!

✧. ┊ pick any arrangement of flowers (prompts/aus) but please do not make them contradictory

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ FLOWERS!

ALEO ✧. ┊ one-sided attraction

ASTER ✧. ┊ pacific rim au

BABY'S BREATH ✧. ┊ soulmates au

CAMELLIA ✧. ┊ mutual pining

CARNATION ✧. ┊ hanahaki au

EDELWEISS ✧. ┊ 5 + 1 of (you choose)

FERN ✧. ┊ fantasy au

 GARDENIA ✧. ┊ secret relationship

HYACINTH ✧. ┊ sacrifice; you die in their arms

HYDRANGEA ✧. ┊ you may be sick, but they are there to care for you

IVY ✧. ┊ friends to lovers

JASMINE ✧. ┊ first kiss

LAVENDER ✧. ┊ after a new revelation, they stop trusting you

LILY ✧. ┊ enemies to lovers

MARIGOLD ✧. ┊ they get jealous of someone getting close to you

MORNING GLORY ✧. ┊ an injury, that is carefully cared for by them

MYRTLE ✧. ┊ arranged marriage au

PARSLEY ✧. ┊ road trip au

POPPY ✧. ┊ after getting rejected, they realise what they already have

ROSE ✧. ┊ write a letter after the death of reader mourning their death

ROSEMARY ✧. ┊ love confessions

TULIP ✧. ┊ fake/pretend relationship au

WILLOW ✧. ┊ star wars au

YARROW ✧. ┊ love potion

Thanks for 100 followers and reading/requesting!

✧. ┊© infin1ty-garden, 2023-2024. all rights reserved. do not translate or repost my work without my permission.

✧. ┊ floral dividers by @saradika-graphics

[mysteria157]

Moment Two: Your Daughter's First Pair

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity (not really), sexual suggestion, slight angst (very minimal).

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Nanami joins you and your daughter for a family tradition, but he may not be as strong as he thinks.

Set in the It Had To Be You universe but you don't need a lot of backstory to follow along.

Notes: This was a random thought that I had based on something that has always been a thing in my family that I wanted to write out. There is nothing significant about this, I have not written Nanami in a LONG time, so I'm trying to warm myself up again. I am so rusty but I'm using fleeting moments of inspiration and taking advantage of it.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @saradika | Header: myself

| Twitter | Ao3 | Masterlist | Moment One | Moment Three...Eventually

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

MINORS DNI

“You don’t need to hold her so tight.”

“I’m protecting her.”

“And what am I, a goat?”

He raises a brow at your jest, autumn wheat and elegant but nonetheless annoyed as he glares at you. He doesn’t mean it, you know that—it’s all nerves.

“Ken, we don’t have to do this you know? If you’re against the idea, we can wait a few more years.”

“I’m not against it,” he reassures you, adjusting your daughter in his arms. Ulani babbles up at him, her chubby hands digging into a sharply cut cheekbone. He carries on without complaint, already used to her behavior. “This is a tradition, and I understand it but…”

You turn a key chain in one hand, your thumb smoothing along the glittery face of a dog—or is it a cat? The rack is filled with key chains of different colors, animals and objects, bringing back memories of middle school when you would drag your best friend Omelia into this same store in Sendai before it closed down. Despite the many years that have passed, the store chain still has its subtle hues of purples and pinks, earrings punched through purple cardboard paper, pens with wonky erasers, and headbands of different designs.

“But what?” you try to finish for him, smiling up at his nervous form as he lets Ulani talk to him in her own baby language.

Kento pulls in a deep breath as if to steel his nerves and prepare for the inevitable. He’s praying to whoever will listen, trying to use every coping mechanism in the book. He’s wearing jeans that hug his fit thighs and a dark blue short sleeve that shows too much bicep for your liking (you should give him a dress code). There are only so many single and married women and men that you can glare at in a day, and the redhead over by the register is pushing it.

“Will it hurt her?” your boyfriend’s low timber pulls you back, filled with apprehension, and he keeps mahogany eyes on his daughter to avoid showing you just how scared he is. You rub his back to soothe him, tracing the bands of muscle that are tense behind the soft fabric.

“I-I’m worried.”

“And you shouldn’t be. It’s a simple thing, lasts two seconds. Just like when she got her first shots.”

That’s not enough for him, because now Kento furrows his eyebrows in frustration, bouncing his daughter in his arms to entertain her and also soothe himself. “There are a lot of things to consider. The risk of infection. Rejection. What if she hates them? What if they get caught on her clothes? Or her curls? Or—”

“Are we ready?” one of the employee’s sing songs from behind you both, walking towards the singular chair perched against the glass wall of the store.

“I—” Kento croaks, clearing his throat and swallowing loudly. He looks down at you. “Are we?”

In the time you’ve known him, you’ve only seen Kento visibly nervous a handful of times. That stoic demeanor is a smooth, stone-like shell to everyone else besides family and close friends, but you know the weak spots and have glimpsed into the fragmented sections only visible to your eyes. Right now, he’s nervous and fearful beyond belief. That all encompassing love and attention that he shows you from sunup to sundown extends to his daughter as well. If there is one person besides you, who can make Nanami Kento show his emotions freely and without reservation no matter the date, place, or time, it’s Ulani.

“How about you hold her?” you suggest and give him a small push towards the black chair. Two employees work at the small kiosk next to him, unwrapping sterile materials and cotton swabs. Kento’s eyes watch every movement, searching for any sign of threat that can give him the ammunition to take his daughter and never come back. You can practically hear his thoughts:

“Is that up to code?”

“How long has that been sealed?”

“What is the name of the manufacturer so that I can ensure it’s reputable?”

Your roll your own eyes, knowing how right you might be.

When you found out your pediatrician would be on her own maternity leave, you let Kento research every establishment in Tokyo until he found one in Shibuya. Reputable, good reviews, and well-practiced in this procedure.

Of course, you’re nervous too. She’s your daughter, a combination of you and Kento, conceived from a very drunken night of disdain but grown out of eventual love and adoration. The thought of her crying in pain makes that maternal part of you flare with anger and the consuming need to protect her forever. But you’ve prepared for this for awhile.

Kento? Not so much.

“Is that clean?” your boyfriend asks one of the employees, clutching his daughter a little tighter. It’s a little rude, but the employee smiles at him in a way that conveys understanding of his trepidation. This isn’t their first rodeo.

“Completely sterile from the package. I promise she’s in great hands.” Deep eyes free of steampunk-esque glasses flicker up at her in doubt, but he simply sniffs and looks back to his daughter instead to withhold a scathing remark. “How about one of us on each side, and we do it at once?” she suggests, addressing him directly. It helps, as he gives her a somber but curt nod.

He situates Ulani in his arms so she’s sitting fully on his lap, his large hands holding her up with a slight tremble. The sight is enough to remind you again that this is new territory for him. What has always been a normal tradition for you and the other females in your life, is a foreign concept for him.

Ear piercings are a milestone in a young girl’s life. You got yours as a baby, and so did your mother. Omelia got hers as a baby, as did all her female cousins, as did her mother and the mother before her. If you interacted with your mother’s side of the family, then maybe you would know if your cousins also did the same.

But that’s another thought for another time, and you refuse to let painful memories tarnish what should be a memory you are crafting on your own, right now.

You step closer and run your hands through thick blond locks that are free of gel. You brush the strands from his forehead, letting the soft texture slip past your fingertips as he relaxes instantly. With his place in his chair, he’s at the perfect height to rest his head on your stomach, and he does so a second later.

One of his hands brushes light brown curls from his daughters ears. You can feel the unease radiating from him with every deep breath he takes, and you scratch that spot at his nape that makes him shudder, hoping it will help.

The muscles in Kento’s neck bunch together instead when one of the employee’s leans toward Ulani to make marks in deep purple, and even your own stomach turns in response at what’s to come. 

“Okay, we will do this on three. How’s that sound honey?” one of the employees coos at your daughter. Ulani, who is a carbon copy of her father, stares up at her, observant and sinking into her daddy before offering a gummy smile. “She’s so pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kento corrects, slightly rough but still appreciative of the compliment. “Aren’t you, my dove?”

He tickles her side and offers a rare chuckle as she squeals up at him, wiggling in her father’s embrace. The sight makes your heart do flips because this is your world, day in and day out. Just you, Kento, and the person you’ve created together.

You step around to squat in front of him so you’re eye level with your daughter, a hand coming up to wiggle the toes covered in a tan sock. Her eyes catch you immediately, and she holds your gaze long enough for the two employees to position themselves on each side of her. 

Kento holds his breath.

“Alright, here we go. One. Two. Three.”

They both move in sync, pressing down on the plastic gun so the studs slide through the soft lobe of Ulani’s lower ears. Kento’s eyebrows furl together immediately. Ulani’s eyes widen for a second before her face contorts, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Your heart hammers and your chest tightens in an sudden flood of sadness and desperation that crashes against you like a tumultuous wave when Ulani takes one heaving breath in….

And screams.

His reaction is quick. Kento bounces one leg at a tempo that alarms you, his handsome face flying through different stages of grief, anger, and pain as he watches the employees adjust the diamond earrings to ensure they heal without complication. His mouth opens and closes, jaw grinding to keep his rudeness in check, because you know what he wants to say.

He was the same way when she got her shots; all glares and sharp stares at everyone else because they were the source of her discomfort. But like that time before, you are the cooling balm for his hot anger as you wiggle your daughters toes and murmur soothing words at her, to show him that she’s going to be just fine.

“It’s okay, baby,” you smile softly and it’s enough to capture her attention even though she’s squealing and crying from the sharp but quick pain in her ears. But all too quickly, you’re not enough for her, because the daughter that you carried for almost ten months turns away and reaches for her father, crying loudly in his arms. It’s a sting that you prepared for, but nonetheless hurts with a severity that takes a few seconds for you to recover from.

By the time you pay one of the employees and exit the store, Ulani has already calmed down. Kento digs into the diaper bag on his shoulder and pulls out a cotton cloth, wiping her nose as she sniffles and whines into his shoulder.

“I know honey, I know,” he coos to her, wiping the tears from her light brown skin and swaying back and forth. “But you were so strong, weren’t you? Hmm? A lot stronger than me.”

He pulls her away from his neck, smiling softly at her, and that one smile makes your chest bloom with satisfaction. It’s times like these that remind you how your life has surprisingly fallen into place. Who would have thought that the man who used to drive you insane would be the only one fit for you? 

That small twinge of hurt you felt minutes ago when Ulani turned away from you resurfaces, but reassurance cools it’s prickly edges. Even though this is a moment you may have been more connected with, it’s Kento who feels the painful side of it a lot more.

So you give him his own moment. You watch quietly as he kisses her chubby cheeks repeatedly, smiling into her skin at the giggles that leave her. You fall into the hum of the world around you as you watch him tuck away the cotton cloth and smooth the curls away from Ulani’s ears, finally admiring the diamonds that twinkle on each side. The lobes will be red for a few days, but for Ulani, she will never think of them again until she’s old enough to pay attention. Until she’s old enough to change them out to match the outfits she decides to wear, different colors and gemstones, and multiples if she ever has a streak of expression in her teenage years. Like you did.

Kento finally looks down at you, chestnut browns sparkling as he takes you in from head to toe. The harsh Shibuya sun beats down on bustling city square, but the rays are soft when they touch him. Tan skin is illuminated gold on his cheekbones, his hair luminous in the sun. You reach up to run a hand through his locks for the second time this afternoon, your heart still not used to the incessant hammering that arises when he leans into your touch.

You lift an accusatory eyebrow at him and hold back a chuckle when you speak. “Our daughter was the soldier this afternoon, and yet I’m coddling you?”

“Keep coddling,” he demands, voice tinged with mirth as he turns to place a kiss inside of your palm and then leans back into your stroking. “Today was very painful for me, have you no shame?” 

You snort and dig your nails into his scalp in retaliation, enjoying the groan that rumbles in the air from your ministrations. “Don’t blame this one moment on your entire day. You had a great run, remember?”

“My slowest three mile run yet.” Quick on the draw, and you already know where this is going. Kento rarely complains, but when he does, it is about the most trivial things as a means to get and keep your attention.

“You made me pancakes this morning.”

“Not my best work. Too much cinnamon in the batter.”

“We made out two hours ago?”

“Ulani woke from her nap and interrupted what would have been a very enjoyable afternoon.” That complaint leaves his mouth in a grumble, and you purse your lips to hold off the laughter that sits in the back of your throat. He’s truly pouting, and god do you love him.

“And now seeing your daughter cry from her first ear piercing was icing on the cake of a bad day, I imagine?”

“Exactly.”

You finally giggle and playfully pull a strand of his hair. He narrows his eyes at you, mischievous yet still carrying that ingrained indifference that you know and love. Ulani shrieks in his arms, finally past her blip of crying and now ready for her parent’s attention. You take in her drool of a smile, slightly red ears, and brown onesie-dress, and the possibilities flood your mind. It’s…very overwhelming when the thoughts hit you: how she will grow into herself, develop her personality, her wants and desires, her hobbies and her dreams. 

“Pay attention to me,” he interrupts your thoughts, and you can’t help the bark of laughter that you give him in response. Ulani mimics you, completely oblivious.

“You’re such a baby, and we have a baby,” you tease, snorting at his level expression and dusty cheeks, slightly shy but absorbing your presence. “You and Ulani have had it rough today. So how about a reward?” You look to your daughter when you ask, knowing damn well she has no idea what you’re saying but you want to include her anyway.

“How about frozen yogurt?” I.e., the unsweetened applesauce in the diaper bag for Ulani and matcha-flavored frozen yogurt for Kento from a favorite vendor a few blocks away. It’s an obsession of his that’s been appearing in the freezer with numbing regularity.

Kento remains unphased by your suggestion, though his lips twitch with the desire to smirk down at you.

“Seeing our daughter in pain was more heartbreaking than I thought. Food may not help, I’m afraid.”

Kento is milking his “pain” at this point, and you’re far too in love with him not to entertain the idea you know is floating in his head. You love this about him, just how playful he is when it comes to you.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” You tap your chin as if you’re thinking hard, humming in contemplation. “How about…” you trail off, a hand sliding up a muscular bicep before massaging his nape again, relishing in the shudder he gives in response, his eyes twitching to hold back the urge to roll into his head in satisfaction. “Since you’ve suffered so much today…we can go home…and I’ll do that thing you like.”

You have the privilege and skill of being able to read Nanami Kento like a book. You don’t miss the glee that dances across his features—the uptick of one side of his mouth, the slow brow lift, the darkening of his irises. He knows exactly what that thing is. You’re pretty good at it—a master at it—and he made you promise that the day he ever turns that thing down, is the day you can leave him.

His cheeks explode in blush, jaw ticking before he clears his throat and smooths a sweaty hand down the dark blue of his shirt.

“I see,” he ponders, looking up to the sky as if in deep thought, and you know if you roll your eyes again, they’ll get stuck. “Well.” He situates Ulani in his arms and presses a few kisses to her cheek again to pull those giggles from her that you both love. “Who am I to deny your mother?” he suggests to his daughter. “Not a moment to waste, Ulani.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—”

“Quickly, before you change your mind.” He slides a hand to the small of your back as a means to hurry you along, pressing softly and turning you in the direction of the car.

You try to bat his hands away from you, giggles growing in volume as he dodges all your attempts to get rid of him. “I’m not going to change my mind, Ken—”

“Quickly.”

He takes your hand and you let him pull you, beaming at his back as he increases his pace. Ulani is happy as can be in her father’s arms and babbling as he talks softly to her.

“A snack before nap time sounds good, doesn’t it? What kind of applesauce would you like today?” She gurgles. “Cinnamon again? Hmmm, we should always try new things, Dove. What about the strawberry ones I bought you yesterday?” A squeal. “Strawberry it is. I think…”

The rest of their conversation fades into the background as you walk with them, warmth coursing through your veins with each step. It’s a warmth that catches you off guard, but has been ever present since Ulani’s birth. And you love every bit of how it feels. How it flows through you with every breath you take. How it only grows every minute, every hour, every day that you create a life with them.

After Ulani is buckled in her car seat and you slide your seat belt into its latch, Kento leans across the armrest, a warm hand sliding against your cheek in a gentle caress before he slants his lips against yours. It’s a surprise, but the shock dies as quickly as it forms as you melt into his touch—full lips that know your own and soft blonde locks brushing your face.

That affection that he pulls from you every day is given back in this moment—freely and without restraint—in the parking lot of Claire’s in Shibuya, where your daughter got her ears pierced for the first time.

When he pulls away and whispers his love for you against your lips, you repeat it back to him without thinking. It’s a motion that you both carry out whenever you can. 

“No more piercings. My heart will probably give out.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask in a tone that is filled with the teasing nature that sticks to you like a second skin.

He loves it, but doesn’t take the bait, and instead kisses your lips again, each cheek, and the tip of your nose. “I will soon.” The innuendo is so obvious you can taste it. He’s been with you too long to be a blushing and awkward man. “Once Ulani is asleep.” You push him away with a giggling huff and savor the deep chuckle that falls from his lips, permeating the air of the car.

As Kento drives through the crowded streets towards your shared home in Nakameguro, the hand not on the steering wheel envelops yours, a thumb stroking the skin of your palm. You look out the window and observe the colors and cars that zoom by, and the sound of a deep breath behind you makes you look back. And when you do, your heart gives a painful but welcoming lurch as you gaze at her. Your daughter already asleep, her head dipping to the side—curly locks askew and sticking to the drool on her face, and her new diamond earrings shining back at you.

Thanks for reading!

[amongemeraldclouds]

Masterlist: Slytherin Boys

Key: ♡ fluff | ☆ smut | ☽ angst

© amongemeraldclouds I do not consent to having my work shared, translated, or reproduced elsewhere. Please do not claim as your own, tumblr is the only place I publish my written work.

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