#four of my commissions are almost done

[phantom-does-a-thing]

god I kind of wanted to write tonight but I feel so unmotivated and upset about my writing and ive been playing roblox for three hours and its midnight and i'm tired and everything is going wrong.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - dub/con, afab!reader, cockwarming, medical malpractice, nonconsensual drug use, manipulation, unbalanced power dynamics, and obsessive behavior.

[commissioned piece. donate to palestinians in gaza here.]

“It really is a shame to lose such a lovely patient.

His hand drifted from your thigh to your hip, rocking you back as you tried to squirm away from him. He was too deep, too big, and you’d been sitting on his cock for too long. Whenever you tried to shift your weight, though, the arm wrapped around your waist would tighten its hold and drag you back into place, leaving your ass slotted against his hips and your cunt struggling to clench around his base. You didn’t know how long he’d kept you like this, but it must’ve been longer than an hour, if not two, three, four. Despite your foggy senses, you could feel slick dripping down your thighs, an empty void in the pit of your stomach where pleasure should’ve been. You could remember hearing that Harper was a good doctor, but that couldn’t be right. Doctors weren’t supposed to make you feel so bad.

“I mean, I know it should be a doctor’s goal to see their patients off as happy and as healthy as can be, but—” He paused, sighed, and you could picture him rolling his eyes, feigning wistfulness as he let out an airy chuckle. “Good, obedient patients can be so rare, especially in a town like this. I’m allowed to mourn the loss of my best charge yet, aren’t I?”

You felt him twitch inside of you, and in search of a distraction, your gaze fell to the collection of papers fanned out over the desk in front of you. You knew you were supposed to be reading them, but the text seemed so impossibly small, and your last round of medication was still clouding your senses, making it hard to focus on much of anything beyond the throbbing in your core, the feeling of his cock stretching you open despite your body’s best attempts to force him out. You could recognize the phrases, signal out words like ‘unfit’ and ‘dependent’ mixed in with the rest of the benign text, but when you tried to put it all together, none of it made sense. It was all you could do to check the boxes Harper pointed to, sign your name on any dotted lines that hadn’t already been filled by his. You could only hope that, when you finished, he’d let you stand up, get off of him, go back to your cozy room with its nice, soft padded walls. You couldn’t imagine having to sleep in his office, again.

“And you’ve been so cooperative, too,” he went on, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “Always taking your medication, always following your treatment plans, always coming to our little sessions with an open-mind – the pinnacle of an ideal patient. Honestly, sometimes I think I could tell you to stick your hand in a vat of boiling water, and you’d do it with a smile on your face. All for the sake of your recovery, of course.”

It was him moving, this time – shifting forward until your stomach was pressed against the blunt edge of his desk and he was all-but draped over you, his body pressed flush against yours. You let out a pitchy whine by way of protest, but Harper didn’t seem to notice, only humming as his hand found yours. “Almost done, little mouse. Just one more page.” He was practically cooing as he took you by the wrist, guiding your hand to the bottom of the final page. Two thick, cutting lines occupied most of the available space, his neat signature taking up the first. He brought you to the second, almost daunting in its vacancy, his index finger tapping against the back of your hand. “You remember your name, right? Can you write it for me?”

It was so hard to think, to stay awake, to try and remember a time where he hadn’t been planted so deeply inside of you. “If…” you started, only to trail off. You blinked once, then twice, and did your best to force your tongue to move. “If I do, can I go home?”

Usually, Harper hated it when you talked about the orphanage, about school, about home. You hadn’t meant to, you just wanted to go back to your room, and you moved to correct yourself, to promise that you didn’t want to be anywhere but this hospital, his hospital before he frowned and prescribed you another electrotherapy session, another dose of the small, white pills that left your thoughts blurred and your body hot. But, anything you might’ve been able to spit out died with a breathy laugh, a peck to the corner of your jaw. “Of course,” he purred, rocking his hips gently against yours. “Sign, and I’ll take you home tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt yourself start to smile. Hastily, smudging the ink more than once, you scrawled your name across the brutal line, dropping the pen and going slack against Harper as soon as you were finished. There was another open-mouthed kiss to your throat, then the dip of your shoulder, and he dragged you back onto his lap with a playful squeeze to your thigh, a grin pressed into the crook of your neck. You squirmed unabashedly, now, your hands  graspingly weakly at the arms of his chair in hopes of pulling yourself to your feet, but Harper held you tight. “Where do you think you’re going, little mouse?”

“I need to— You said I could go—”

“Just give me another minute, darling.”

His cock pulsed against the walls of your cunt, and you felt something break open inside of you.

“I want to appreciate this moment before we get you to proper, brand-new home.”

[kazuhaiku]

love story

summary: kinich makes a surprise visit to fontaine and wants to spend the entire day with you, no excuses.

warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff, might be ooc kinich (it's just my interpretation on his personality as of now).

notes: silly little kinich fic as my first post >< reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

“kinich!” you exclaim from the hunters’ guild, a huge smile on your face as you see him walking towards you, a nonchalant look on his face as usual. “hey! i didn’t know you were visiting fontaine. you should have told me!”

“it wouldn’t be a surprise if i tell now would it?” kinich replies, ajaw beside him nodding in agreement. “what are you doing in the hunters’ guild? did you receive a new commission?”

“mhm,” you hum in reply. “lumine and paimon are taking a day off so i’m taking over their commissions for today!” you hand him the list of commissions that are currently available to do and you swear you can see a faint glint of disappointment in his eyes when he sees how many commissions there are to do. “i’m-”

“let me help.” kinich abruptly cuts you off. “you’ll get this finished faster when i’m helping. i’m allowed to help, right?” his eyes flicker over to katheryne who is smiling amusingly. 

“yes of course, if that’s okay with y/n?” katheryne eyes you knowingly. despite katheryne being a robot, she has a clear understanding of the tension between you and kinich (a little too well, if you must say).

you clear your throat. “oh um- yeah of course you can help!” kinich smiles at your answer. he keeps the piece of paper containing the commission details inside his pocket.

“come on, no time to waste. we have lots of things to do today.” kinich exclaims almost excitedly, and you can’t help but wonder what plans he’s got for you today (because why else would he come all the way from natlan to fontaine?).

kinich indeed wasted no time because as soon as there was a fight, he jumped straight into it, killing the enemies almost instantly. before you know it, the commissions are all done hours before your predicted finish time.

kinich wipes the sweat away from his forehead, acting as if he didn’t just do all the commission for you. he turns around and gives you a big smile. “we’re done now, yeah? you’re finished with work?”

“um, yeah…” you stare at kinich as if he just ate a spider.

kinich tilts his head to the side. “what? why are you staring at me like that?”

“no it’s just,” you let out a small laugh, suddenly finding kinich’s actions a bit funny. “aren’t you acting a bit too… desperate?”

“d-desperate?” kinich stutters, a red hue filling his cheeks. “i don’t- i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

you raise your eyebrows. “really? so you did all my commissions in under ten minutes, used every single teleport waypoint instead of exploring the land like you always do, and made me watch you do the commissions instead of letting me help?”

kinich’s cheeks turn darker as you speak, and he immediately covers his face, as if his plan has been busted. “okay, you’re right. i’m… desperate.” he removes his hand from his face, pulling you into a tight hug. “i missed you so much, okay? my work lasted much longer than i had expected, and there was no time for me to write a letter to you.”

you can practically hear the pout in his voice. you gently pat his back, consoling him. “i missed you even more, kinich. how long has it been since we last met?”

“four weeks.” kinich says almost instantly.

you hum. kinich lets go of you, however, one of his hands is still holding one of yours tightly. he doesn’t say anything, and only focuses on caressing your hands, as if you are going to disappear when he lets go.

“kinich,” you call out, and his head whips up. “i’m not going anywhere.”

“i know, i’m sorry,” kinich sighs. “i had so many plans for us today but now i can’t even think of what we should do first.”

“well, considering i- we finish the list of commissions earlier than i had expected… why don’t we start from the top of the list?” you suggest. kinich’s eyes lit up, however, there is a glint of confusion behind it. “of course i know about the list. we’ve been dating for, what, four months now? i know you keep a list whenever we go out.”

kinich makes a sound of surprise and he lowers his head, slowly grabbing the piece of paper from his pocket. he hands it to you silently. “you know me too well, y/n.”

you smile, opening the paper. there aren’t many things on the paper, considering that he listed only five things; explore the court of fontaine, stop by the cafe there and have a nice little coffee date with y/n :), ride the aquabus (seems like fun), visit the opera epiclese, visit the chioriya boutique and gift y/n an outfit!

“wow…” you gasp in awe. “chioriya boutique? how’d you know i like her outfits?”

“remember the letter we last sent out to each other?” kinich asks and you nod. “well, you briefly mentioned her. how you love the outfits she makes and you made a little note on the side saying how you really want an outfit from her but you don’t have enough mora to buy one.”

“that- kinich that letter was probably sent a month ago! how do you still remember that?” you ask, surprised that he remembers the small detail.

kinich only smiles in response. “well, no time to explain. come on, let’s ride the aquabus! i’ve been dying to ride them ever since i got here.”

he pulls you and starts running, almost making you tumble. well, since he’s really excited, you can’t really complain. a happy kinich is a sight to behold.

[slttygeto]

WHISPERED PROMISES—S. SHINICHIRO

જ⁀➴ synopsis: you meet shinichiro one day when he’s working in his shop. you’re sweet, nice and there’s an obvious tension between you two. you feel like a teenager with the way he’s making you nervous, but you accept to go on a date with him. things only get better from there.

જ⁀➴ content warning: so much fluff i almost cried, fem!reader, you and shin have the biggest crush on each other, he’s so sweet and respectful, eventual smut, mentions of a breeding kink, protected sex, fingering, oral (fem! receiving), pussy whipped shinichiro, dirty talk, lots of kisses, shin has a big dick<3 

જ⁀➴word count: 7,9k (lord have mercy)

જ⁀➴note: a great thank you to @mztoman  for commissioning me again!! I got so carried with this fic, the plot was just so good!! 

COMMISSIONS ARE STILL OPEN: 1 SLOT LEFT.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED!

Working on weekends was Shinichiro’s least favorite thing about his job. He tried his best to make it a good experience, he really did, but he was tired from a long week of working eight hours a day (and sometimes more when there was an emergency). And so, small things got on his nerves.

His lunchbox wouldn’t open, he forgot to pack chopsticks with him, he forgot to put water in his mini-fridge, the air conditioner was barely working—good lord, he was getting so annoyed.

Ring!

Oh great, a customer visiting when he was at his wits ends. Shinichiro stands up from his crouching position next to the bike he was working on. He grabs the rug that was attached to his pants and wipes his hands. He was expecting the usual type of customers; rude, stubborn, the know-it-all who tried to explain to him his own job and how it’s done. All in all, unlikeable.

Though, he is pleasantly surprised when he finds a girl standing at the door, looking around his shop with heart eyes. You looked so lost in your thoughts, your hands gripping your hand bag so tightly (from nervousness? Shinichiro wasn’t sure). Your stance was polite, and you looked in awe at his work. Maybe working today wasn’t such a bad idea if his first customer of the day is someone like you.

He brushes off the thoughts, telling himself that you looked young—no, way too young for someone like him. Plus, he wasn’t exactly the luckiest with girls. He’s had his fair share of hookups, tried to be in relationships, but things just never worked out for him.

He rolls his shoulders as he approaches you, greeting you with a wave. He was tall, had a smile that had you feeling a little dizzy—good god, this man was attractive. Whether it be the way he carried himself, or how he wiped the dirt off his hands, you could tell that he was hardworking and truly loved his job.

“Hi, welcome to our shop.” He really hoped that his voice wouldn’t crack and embarrass him. Technically, it was his shop and he was proud of it. It wasn’t exactly the fanciest out there, but it was his pride and joy. The display of the many bikes that he owned always caught people’s attention outside and left him grinning from ear to ear.

“Hello, thank you, I didn’t think anyone was here,” you were nervous, he could tell by watching you relax and clench your hands more than once.

“Well, someone has to be here,” he jokes and for a second, he can tell you were glad that he did. His playful remark somehow made you relax, and you let out a slightly less nervous giggle (which sounded so fucking adorable).

“You’re right, my bad.” You start looking around the shop again, and the man thinks it’s time to try to get to know you a little better. How can he do that without appearing to be invading your personal space? Should he immediately ask for your name? No, that’s too bold. Maybe…Maybe taking the professional approach will work.

“Can I see your driver’s license?” Very subtle.

You don’t hesitate as you pull it out and hand it to the tall man, and you watch as his eyes scan it for a good five seconds before humming in approval.

You were indeed younger, but only four years younger than him, really fucking attractive. He thought that there is no way you were single, but then again there was no ring on your finger—should he just ask you if you were in a relationship? Nu-uh, too soon.

“Alright, and how can I help you?”

“I am here to fix my friend’s bike for her birthday,”

“Oh you have a biker friend? So you know a little about them?”

“Only the basics, I’m more of an avid fan of the races rather than a participator.” You let out a chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. You weren’t lying, you did enjoy watching more than riding them. But only because you tried before and failed miserably, and you weren’t going to include such embarrassing detail to a handsome stranger.

“Okay, what does she need help with exactly?”

You go into detail of what had happened, and how your friend had stopped riding her motorcycle just because she was too busy saving up money for something else. And with her birthday coming up, you thought you could sneakily get a family member of hers to bring the bike to this particular shop and get it fixed right on time. Shinichiro agrees to help you, and you both settle on the price rather quickly. Now you no longer had a reason to be in the shop, but you didn’t exactly want to leave either.

“You’re not busy?”

“Not at all,” you look at the display of the many fancy motorcycles he owned, letting out a “wow” at how shiny and pretty they looked. He took good care of them.

“My name is Shinichiro, by the way.” He takes his hand out to shake yours and you accept it immediately. You try not to blush at how rough his hand felt, evidence of true hard work. Could he get any more attractive?

“Nice to meet you, Shinichiro,” you grin at the man, and feel him squeeze your hand tightly before relaxing. He seemed like he wanted to say something, but hesitated and thought ‘nevermind’. But the longer you stayed in his shop, the more obvious it was to the man that if you left the shop without his number, he would be the one to call himself a loser. No need for Benkei and Wakasa to do that for him.

“So, uh…” His lips part, his hand comes to the back of his neck and your heart picks up its pace. You could see that the tips of his ears were turning red, and his hand hadn’t let go of yours. “This is a little unprofessional of me…” He mumbles to himself. He sighs and you chuckle and at the dilemma he seems to be in, but that sound alone seems to encourage him to speak more. He wants to hear you laugh again, you seemed very comfortable with what was happening.

“Would you like to go out sometime? I’d like to know you better, you seem like a really nice girl and—“

“Absolutely.” You don’t let him go on with his little ramble, only flash him a nervous grin. The apples of your cheeks were as red as his, and it truly felt like two teenagers confessing to one another. You loved a man that made you feel like this.

“Oh?” He grins back, and his hand slides down from his nape to the back pocket of his jeans. “Great, when are you available?”

“Tomorrow, my place.” Shinichiro almost chokes on his saliva at your words. Your place? It was too early for that, not that he minded—but he wanted to be a gentleman, wait at least a few dates before even trying to get in bed with you—

Sensing that he was malfunctioning, your other hand slides on top of the hand that was holding yours and you squeeze it in reassurance.

“You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I just thought going to a restaurant would be a waste of money—and personally, I love cooking. We can just watch a movie and hang out?” You felt like such a breath of fresh air. Somehow, feeling your skin against his made him immediately relax.

It’s not the idea of coming to your place that scared him, he just always thought you only do that after a while of dating. But here you were, suggesting that an indoor date would be better and cheaper than at a restaurant. Plus, he felt like he could get to know you better if you’re sitting on the couch together alone rather than in a place filled with people.

“I love the idea. So, tomorrow?”

“8PM, how does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

--

After exchanging phone numbers, you and Shinichiro practically texted almost all night. You talked about everything and nothing, almost forgetting to send him your location. Turns out, you didn’t really live that far away from his own place, nearly less than a five minute walk.

He was really nervous. He didn’t tell anyone about the date, made up some bullshit of a lie that he was going out for a few hours and his friends were already eyeing him weird. He simply wanted to take his time with you. Your chemistry seemed promising even though you’ve known each other for less than a day.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, and if you were going to choose not to go out on a date with him again, he could at least keep it a secret to himself.

Since you were the one cooking tonight, Shinichiro thought it would be rude if he didn’t bring anything with him. So he got a bouquet, brought board games with him and some drinks just in case. He felt stupid for not having asked you beforehand what kind of drinks you liked, but he was almost at your place. No time for regrets.

You had also told him to dress comfortably. You were going to chill in your living room for a while, and you wanted your date to feel as natural as possible. So here he was, dressed in a white hoodie and some grey sweatpants, his hair was still slightly wet from the quick shower he took after getting off work, and he hoped that he wouldn’t catch a cold.

Arriving at your doorstep, the man was more than sure that this was your place. You had a cute doormat with the word ‘WELCOME’ written in bold, along with two huge plants on either side of it. If your doorstep felt this cozy, he could only imagine what the inside looks like.

Knock, knock, knock.

He waits approximately three seconds before he hears the sound of you running barefoot to the doorstep, a muffled “I’m coming!” accompanied with it. You handle a few locks before opening the door, greeting him with the cutest smile he’s ever seen. He doesn’t have time to look at your outfit or tell you how nice you look before you were wrapping your arms around him. You don’t squeeze too tight, but Shinichiro feels you flinch and pull away.

“Oh, sorry! I got too excited—“ you’re blushing—fuck, you’re blushing and he’s getting butterflies in his stomach like a teenager. Shinichiro has been on enough dates to know the difference between feeling nervous and having an absolute crush on his date—it was the latter with you.

“It’s okay, I like hugs,” he places the bag full of goods on the floor and pulls you in another hug, his hand caressing your back gently. He hopes you can’t hear how loud his heart is beating, because then he would be fucked.

“You smell really good,” you mumble against his chest and you feel him hum. He leans down and you can feel his nose on top of your head—this was too intimate for a first date, but neither of you minded.

“You smell like roses,” he lets you pull away from the hug, grinning from ear to ear that his words were getting you to blush this hard.

“Thank you.” So shy, so sweet--

I swear if this doesn’t work out, I’ll never date again.

“Oh how rude of me, please come on in!” You lead him all the way inside, and Shinichiro can finally take a look at your outfit. You were wearing the cutest dress that reached right above your knees, along with a pair of fuzzy socks. You looked so comfortable and adorable, he couldn’t help the smile on his lips.

“Quite the cute outfit,” his tone is playful, it makes you pause what you were doing in the kitchen to give him a playful glare yourself.

“Yeah, yeah, I told you I wanted us to feel comfortable. It’s bad enough that my heart is about to explode,” so it wasn’t just him feeling nervous, cool.

“You’re also nervous?”

“Also?” now it’s your turn to sound playful and the man laughs at your antics. He takes a seat on your couch, and waits for you to join him. He looks around your apartment, and takes in how well thought everything seemed to be. From the candles sitting by the tiny coffee table, to the polaroids hanging on the wall—your place felt like a perfect representation of how you were as a person and as a friend; comforting and sweet.

“You got me my favorite drink!” Your excited voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He stares at you and the way your eyes seem to light up at a simple drink. He picked out the flavor very randomly, his thought process was ‘I hope she likes this’ and turns out, you did.

Lucky him. Everything he seemed to do or pick for you aligned perfectly with your preferences. Though, he couldn’t deny that he was eager to learn more about you; what you did for a living, what your favorite pet was, your sleeping schedule, your favorite place to eat—he needed to stop.

You approached the TV and grabbed your remote control before turning around to face him.

“Food is almost ready, wanna watch something in the mean time?” Shinichiro nods and you quickly take a seat next to him on the couch.

“So, what kind of shows are you into?”

The next half hour passes by rather quickly, and you end up not watching anything as you both chat on the couch. He helps you check in on the food when you gasp in horror, thinking that it got burned—but thank god, it didn’t. You talk about your childhood, what you did for a living and how things were going for you. If you had any friends living nearby, where you grew up. You appreciated how attentive the dark haired male sitting on your kitchen stool was, your heart skipped a beat every time he flashed you an adorable grin. You were absolutely doomed.

“How about you though, any friends or family living around you?” You ask as you start serving the pasta on the plates he helped setting on the table. He hums in response, but you think it was directed towards the food and how delicious it looked.

“I have two siblings, a brother and a sister.”

“Younger?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” he quirks an eyebrow at you and you shrug your shoulders.

“You give off oldest brother vibes,”

“In a good way I hope,” he teases, waiting for you to take a seat facing him.

“An amazing way, you seem very caring and selfless.” You light up the candle sitting in the middle of the table, and Shinichiro tries his best not to stare for too long when you stand up to do it. You were leaning down, the light coming from the candle made you look ten times prettier tonight.

Well, fuck me.

You catch him staring at you, the taller guy almost cooing at how you seemed to blush at his attention. A shy ‘what?’ leaves your lips and Shinichiro shakes his head in response.

“Just—you look so pretty,” he was being honest. He wasn’t trying to scare you away or seem creepy, Shinichiro was just an honest man.

“Oh please—have you seen yourself? You’re so handsome, it should be illegal!”

“Not gonna lie, I am handsome,” you stare at him in disbelief, before breaking into a laugh.

“What? My parents were very beautiful people,”

“Oh, I’m not saying otherwise. It just caught me off guard,” you giggled, grabbing your fork to eat your spaghetti.

“Plus, I look like my mom. It’s my biggest flex,” you notice how he smiles when he mentions his mom, and realize that he used the past tense when referring to his parents. Should you ask him about them or not?

“Were they nice people?” you were thankful that he caught on who you were referring to, and gave you a nod.

“The best.”

--

Dinner went on very smoothly with you two chatting here and there. There seemed to be no hole in your conversations, and when it suddenly got quiet, you’d immediately fill it with a new topic. Talking to him was just so fun.

He helps you clean the dishes (despite you saying he doesn’t have to) and you learn from standing next to him without your shoes on that he was a rather tall man. His stature was incredibly attractive even with a hoodie on, and he seemed to love dancing while washing the dishes.

“Oh did I tell you I have a niece?” you gasp at the revelation, almost dropping the board game he brought with him.

“You do? Show me!” he immediately whips out his phone and shows you the folder he has dedicated to pictures of him and his niece. He has approximately 500 pictures of her and she’s the sweetest girl ever.

She looks exactly like him, you almost think that he’s lying to you about being her uncle. You can definitely tell that she got her blond hair from her mom (you passed by a few pictures of the little girl with her parents), but she definitely looked like uncle’s favorite girl.

He tells you about her, how she brought some joy to his life a year ago when she was born. You listen to him and admire how his eyes are full of love when speaking of her—this man was the greenest flag you’ve ever met.

“I’d love for you to meet her, y’know if we see each other again,” he hesitates as he says the last sentence, but your hand is immediately wrapped around his arm before you squeeze it reassuringly.

“I would love to meet her,” even if you didn’t explicitly say it, you were hinting that you were looking forward to your next date together. Lucky Shinichiro.

The rest of the night is filled with laughter as you try all the board games he brought with him. Even when you got bored and decided to do something else, the man was down for whatever as long as it meant making you smile and giggle until your stomach was hurting. He loved how you seemed to encourage him whenever he doubted himself, he also noticed that your hand would always land on his back in reassurance when he lost (mostly to tease him, but you still loved feeling his muscular back through the fabric of his hoodie).

It was around 11:30PM when Shin finally decided it was time to head back home, and he had to fight the urge to kiss your lips when you sulked at the realization that it was time for him to leave.

“Man, that was too fast,” you complain as you both walk towards the door, and he chuckles at how whiny you suddenly got.

“Hey, it’s not like we won’t see each other again, yeah?” his hand landed on your back to reassure you the same way you did when he lost, and he noticed how you seemed to melt at his touch.

“Yeah,” you reply in a small voice, shy and suddenly too aware of your loud heartbeat.

Was he going to give you a hug? Kiss you? You were honestly hoping for a kiss, maybe a quick peck?

You were thinking too much.

“Thank you for tonight, I really had so much fun with you,” his hand rested at your shoulder, and you almost melted when he squeezed it. His hand was big and warm, you couldn’t stop thinking of how nice it would feel if you held it, kissed the skin or maybe traced the scars on it.

“I had so much fun too,” you reply, your hand instinctively wrapping itself around his wrist. Your thumb caresses the skin there, and while your heart was telling you that this was the right thing to do, your brain was scolding you for being so forward.

Shinichiro could swear that his heart was about to come out of his throat when your hand wrapped around his wrist. Your warm touch and caring nature had the man feeling dizzy, blushing once again like he’s never felt a woman’s touch before.

“Goodnight,” he pulls you towards him to hug you, grabbing both your arms to wrap them around his waist. This doesn’t necessarily catch you off guard since your brain had been screaming at you to wait for him to do something.

“Goodnight Shinichiro,” your head rests on his chest, a smile adorning your lips. You pull away from the hug a few seconds later, and wait for him to put on his shoes before opening the door for him.

“Text me when you get home,” you say in a low voice, trying not to disturb the neighbors and he nods.

“I will, bye!”

“Bye!” you wave at him, watching his back as he slowly walks away from your apartment. You close the door and stand there for a moment, trying to recollect your thoughts. This was by far one of the best first dates you’ve been on. Not only was Shinichiro such a sweetheart, but you had so much fun with him. You felt like you could hang out with him forever, you couldn’t wait for your next date together—fuck, perhaps you were rushing things? Maybe he wanted to wait a couple of days before calling you again, or maybe he won’t call you at all—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Your heart stills at the sound, you almost grab your phone to call the police. But something tells you to open the door anyway, and when you do, two warm hands are grabbing your face and pulling you out of your apartment.

Shinichiro?

“What are you—“

“I wanna kiss you—can I kiss you?” he looks out of breath and his cheeks are pink. You’re not sure if it’s because of the fact that he ran, or if he was flustered. But either way, your cheeks are the same color as his when you hear his request.

“Kiss me, please.”

That was all what he needed to hear before pressing his lips against yours. His lips are warm and soft, and he kisses you so passionately that you can feel your head spinning. Your hands are balled up in fists, tightly holding onto the fabric of his hoodie to keep him closer to you. Shinichiro’s bigger frame is obvious when he kisses you, his entire form leans over you and it makes you blush even more.

Your lips move together for a few more moments before you’re both pulling away, the taller male still pressing kisses all over your face before pecking you on the lips one last time.

“Goodnight,” he says one last time, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before walking away from your apartment.

You close the door once again, and for a moment you feel like a main character in a romance drama. You lean your weight against the wall and feel your burning cheeks with your hands.

“Oh… my god,”

Shinichiro was going to be all you could think of for the next few days.

---

After your first date together, you and Shinichiro went on four more dates. Each one had a different vibe to it; at the fair, at a café, another date at your place and the most recent one was a cute lunch date at his bike shop. He fixed your friend’s bike but you also preferred being alone with him rather than outside with a crowd of people. Not that you didn’t appreciate the dates at the fair and the café, you were still feeling giddy from knowing each other, and so it felt more intimate to spend time together like this.

Shinichiro hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, and you were more than okay with it. You could tell he was waiting for the right moment to do it, it was adorable. There were times where it would get quiet between you two and you would find him staring at you so lovingly, it made your heart stutter in your chest.

He was about to come pick you up from your place very soon, and you remember him telling you to wear something comfortable which intrigued you. Where was he taking you exactly?

Soon after, you heard familiar three knocks at your door and almost jumped from the couch. You were so excited to see him, the part of your brain that usually embarrassed you for being so excited for a date was buried somewhere—this was Shinichiro, the same man who hugged and kissed you so passionately on your first date, held your hand at the fair and pecked your lips after winning a teddy bear for you. He got you food when you told him you were too tired to cook, and cleaned your kitchen despite you telling him he didn’t have to.

And he still hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet.

You brushed off the negativity aside, trying to tell yourself that the pit in your stomach was from excitement and not disappointment. He’s been so good to you, just because he was taking too long to make things official didn’t mean he was playing you.

You hoped.

You open the door and is greeted with a good looking Shinichiro. It was dark outside, it was 9PM and so the street light made him look extra attractive.

He always looked good, but this time—wow. He was wearing a leather jacket with some jeans and a white shirt, and he had his helmet in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. You tried your best not to blush at the sight of his hair slicked back, but you were so used to turning red in his presence that you just let it happen.

“Well hello there handsome,” you try to tease him, hoping that it makes your blush die down and give you a hint of confidence, but it withers away so fast when he places his helmet on the floor and pulls you into a hug. He smells so fucking good, it should be unfair.

“Hi pretty, ready for our date?” He pulls away from the hug to stare at your outfit and hums when he sees that you’re wearing shorts and a cardigan. “You look adorable.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your red cheek, and chuckles when you look down shyly.

“Thank you,”

“Still shy?” He teases, handing you the bouquet which you hold carefully.

“Shut up, it’s not my fault,” you walk back inside your place and Shinichiro waits for you by the door with his helmet. You put the bouquet of flowers in a vase and fill it with water before putting it on your table. This way, it always felt like a part of him was around you.

“It’s cute,” he flashes you a smile and you have to look away to try to calm your nerves. Making you feel this nervous should be illegal. Did he cast some spell on you?

“Anyway big boy, where are we going?” you walk out of your apartment and close the door, and when you turn around to face the taller guy, he places his helmet on your head and helps adjusting it so that it doesn’t fall off.

“I’m taking you somewhere, do you trust me?” He points at his motorcycle waiting for you both in front of your building and your lips part in awe. He was taking you for a ride on his most treasured possession?

“I do,” he sees that you’re in deep thought and squeezes your shoulder.

“Then let’s go.”

He gets on top of his bike and helps you sit behind him, and at first you hesitate on where to put your hands—until you feel him wrap your arms around his waist and tug you to press your chest on his back.

“Hold on tight, okay?” You could swear he was doing it on purpose, but you don’t think much of it when he’s suddenly speeding away from your apartment building.

It takes you ten minutes to get to your destination, with Shinichiro showing off his skills and laughing when you scream in horror when you get too close to car. You never thought that he would drive so…recklessly, but it was fun. He parks his motorcycle very close to where you were both standing, facing a small lake that you always passed by when going to work. It had pretty cherry trees, and people always took their dogs out on walks or walked with their partners here.

“I love this place,” you whisper, standing close to Shinichiro who chuckles at your words. He knows, you mentioned it before when you were having lunch together.

“I know, you always stare at it when we drive past it,”

He noticed. You almost coo at this, and stare up at the tall man through your eyelashes. Your arms instinctively wrap around his waist and he pulls you closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

“You like it?”

“I love it,” you pull away from the hug to rest your chin on his chest, staring up at him with the same eyes that always had the man weak in the knees. His hand caresses the top of your head as he stares down at you, and it slowly slips from the top to the back of your head.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I might just kiss you,” although there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, you could tell he was being serious. And who were you to deny a kiss from him?

“Kiss me, Shin,” the man doesn’t need to be told twice before he’s leaning down to kiss you. You sigh in the kiss, his hands hold your face so gently that it makes you melt into his touch.

When you both pull away, you’re glad that it was dark outside or your faces would’ve given away how flustered you were. He can still tell from your warm cheeks that you were blushing and leans down to give you a quick peck.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” This man was too much for your heart to handle. You thought he was attractive, well-mannered and a gentleman—but this really takes the cake.

You’re excited, giddy that you could finally make things official with him. You’ve been waiting for this day since your first date—and it finally happened.

“Gladly.”

You and Shinichiro were officially girlfriend and boyfriend.

---

Today, you were going to meet Shinichiro’s niece. His sister had asked him if he could babysit her and he agreed, asking her if you could tag along which she agreed to. She wanted to meet you, and you weren’t opposed to the idea. Emma seemed very sweet from the many times Shin mentioned her, and so meeting her didn’t stress you out that much.

You got to Emma and Draken’s place at 5PM, they wanted to go on a date (which was well deserved) and so asking Shinichiro to babysit her seemed like the best option since the baby was in love with him. You greet the couple with a smile, and you watch as Emma shows Shinichiro where the bottles and diapers are, and what to do in case she cried—which he knew about already. His sister was just anxious, and probably felt a little too guilty to be taking some time away from her little girl.

“Have fun!”

Now it was just you, Shin and the little girl. For a one year old, she sure had a lot of personality. And you think that she definitely got it from her uncle. She giggles at everything he does and loves to sit on his lap, but when she noticed you sitting on the couch, her eyes lit up. She was intrigued, and she rarely ever met a new person.

You weren’t a familiar face, but she didn’t cry when you asked Shin if you could hold her. She gladly let you take her in your arms and even giggled and buried her face in your chest when you flashed her a small smile. What an angel.

“Oh are you getting shy on me?” You stand up from the couch with her in your arms and walk to the kitchen to get her one of the snacks her mother had prepared for her. You held her in one arm while the free one grabbed her chair to sit her there.

Shinichiro watched the scene unfold and could feel his body tense up. Whatever it was that had him feeling this… dizzy, he needed to brush it off. You were so good with his niece, so gentle and caring—you talked to her with so much tender and his niece seemed to love you; a complete stranger she just met. You treated her like she was your own baby, changed her diaper and helped getting her to bed, you even gave her a bath and Shinichiro could only imagine what it would be like to have a baby with you.

Watching you walk around your shared apartment with a belly full of his baby, so sore and whiny. You would cuddle up against him and he would feel the baby kick, you would place his hand on your stomach and he would caress the skin lovingly. You would be so needy and horny, grinding against his thigh and he would help you—his pretty little wife, bringing you to an earth shattering orgasm—

Shit, he was getting hard.

He was so relieved when Emma and Draken came back, their daughter was fast asleep and you both were cuddling on the couch. He didn’t realize how rushed his goodbyes were until he felt you tagging at his sleeve in front of the car.

“Shin? Are you okay?” You were worried, his pretty angel so concerned for him, so unaware that the thought of breeding you was all over his mind. He didn’t want to scare you away, but he thought since you’ve already made it official and made out a couple of times, he could tell you what was on his mind.

“Can you come over?”

“To your place?” You tilt your head to the side and Shinichiro nods.

“Spend the night, I need you.”

He needs you.

You felt yourself get dizzy at his words, lips parted in shock. You weren’t taken aback by the fact that he was horny for you, but saying it out loud and sounding so…desperate, you could feel your panties getting embarrassingly wet.

“I’ll give you my hoodie, I can go to your place and get you some clothes I just—“ He knew he was rambling, but he didn’t want you to think that he only cared about his pleasure, not when he knew the night was going to be all about you.

“Shin,” you cut him off, and the man stares down at you. “I need you too, please,”

---

Once at Shinichiro’s place, you didn’t have time to take off your jacket before he was pushing you up against the wall and kissing you so feverishly. You don’t know what set him off, but you weren’t opposed to it. His hands were helping you rid yourself of your jacket before slipping behind your thighs to grip the skin.

He pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, panting and already so out of breath.

“If you feel uncomfortable or want me to stop, tap my arm, okay?”

So cute. Your response was a moan before you were kissing him again, this time trying to deepen it more than before. Shin taps your butt and asks you to jump, and when you do he wraps your legs around his waist and starts heading towards his bedroom. He kisses you like he means it, and unlike other kisses you’ve shared before, this one has a hint of lust to it—it tastes different; needy, demanding, and you melt into it like butter.

You expect his room to be a little messy, but you’re pleasantly surprised when you see how tidy it is. It smelled of sandalwood and his perfume, bed neatly made. He throws you on top of it like you weigh nothing, and is immediately on top of you after stripping himself of his own jacket. He gets back to kissing you, this time you’re aware of what’s pressing against your thigh and you don’t mind at all—instead, you’re pushing him away from you to sit up on your elbows.

“Are you—“

“Shut up and help me take off my shirt,” Shin’s lips are sealed shut at your words, then he’s doing as told. He helps you take off your shirt and grunts at the sight of you in your bra. Your tits looked gorgeous. He leans down and presses a kiss to the skin below your collarbone, hands sliding up to your shorts to pull them down in on fast movement and you squeal.

“Shin!”

“You don’t mind me getting a little taste first, right?” A blush spreads across your cheeks but you shake your head almost frantically at his words. You wiggle yourself out of your shorts, giving him a little show by letting them hang to your ankle for a moment before throwing them somewhere in his room. You giggle when he leans in and presses a kiss to your calf, but it turns into a moan when he licks all the way up to your inner thigh.

“You wanna tease me, is that it?” His mouth leaves wet kisses all over your inner thighs, before finally getting to your panties. He is shameless as he takes a whiff of your arousal through the damp fabric, and you almost kick him away because of how embarrassing it looks.

“You smell—fucking heavenly, “ he practically moans out the last part, and it makes a shy sound erupt from the back of your throat, looking away from him. But he’s having none of that—not tonight. He wanted you to look him dead in the eyes as he fucked every thought out of your head, wanted to feel you clamp around his dick as he brought you to a mind spinning orgasm.

You gasp when you feel him remove your panties in one swift motion, not even stuttering and hesitating as he balls them up and puts them in his pocket. You couldn’t even ask him what he was going to do with them before he was leaning down and spreading your pussy lips with a breathy moan. He looked so gone and he hasn’t even touched you yet, the sight of him looking so in love with your pussy made your clit throb—which made him audibly grunt.

“You’re a treat,” you don’t respond verbally—you can’t since he immediately wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You inhale sharply at the contact, back arching and jaw going slack when he proceeds to pull away and flatten his tongue on the sensitive bud. Your eyes are rolled to the back of your head when he repeats the same movements—sucks, pulls away, kisses and then licks. It seems like a simple formula, and you can feel yourself getting louder and wetter but you have no care in the world. He’s eating you out so good, he’s showing no signs of stopping and you don’t want him to. Plus, whatever turned him on tonight must’ve made him feral if he was all over you like a mad man.

“Shin—oh fuck, oh baby,” you’re out of breath, your hands are flailing around trying to find where to grip. Until you feel the man between your legs grab your hand and placed them on top of his head. He wanted you to pull his hair, Jesus fuck.

You don’t have time to think properly, not that you can. You’re pulling at Shinichiro’s hair, hips bucking and stuttering with every strong lick on your clit. Your body is arching off the bed, and you sit up with a huff. Shinichiro can tell you’re about to cum when he pushed your body back down and slides in two fingers at a time. He looks up and has to hold himself back from cumming in his pants when he sees the blissed out look on your face—glossy eyes, bruised lips and red cheeks. You were a sight to see.

He helps you reach your orgasm with fast thrusts of his fingers, kissing the inner of your thigh and humming quietly about how well you were doing for him, how you were going to take his dick like a champ, how he can’t wait to stuff your cunt full of him and—

“Fuck!” You cry out, your body stuttering and shuddering as you finally get to cum. You ride out your orgasm by grinding your hips to the same rhythm as Shinichiro’s thrusts, and you whine at him when you can feel him kiss your clit, praising you for doing so well for him.

“My pretty girl, my gorgeous girl—you did so well,” he whispers and kisses your stomach, and you look down at him with lustful eyes and a fucked out expression, which he chuckles at.

Your eyes follow his every move as he gets up from between your legs and walks to his nightstand. He opens a drawer and grabs a condom, and you almost whine at him for that.

“Ah, baby. We gotta be careful,” he soothes you with a hand on your cheek, his thumb tracing circles on the skin before traveling down to your lips. He feels like a mad man when you open your mouth and take his thumb in, swirling your tongue around before gently biting it. What a fucking tease.

“Next time, you can do that to my cock, yeah?” He whispers to you and you nod, but your eyes are wide and blown out with lust as you stare down at the visible bulge in his pants. He chuckles at your stare, and gives you a little show as he takes off his shirt—flaunting the body that he has even if it wasn’t the fittest, he was proud of it.

Then he’s wiggling out of his pants, and grins when you reach your hand towards his boxers to palm his hard-on. He grabs your wrist and shakes his head, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I said next time, hm?”

You don’t have time to pout about it before he’s taking off his boxers—and holy shit. He had your mouth watering, but your heart stutters and jumps in your chest at the thought of such a heavy cock inside of you. Shin watches as your expression changes and he chuckles, his cheeks reddening a little. For a man who was so full of confidence a few moments ago, seeing you look so in love with his cock made him feel a little proud.

“Next time when you go on the pill, I’ll fill you up so good,” he rips the condom with his mouth and swiftly places it on his dick, he watches as you eagerly spread your legs to welcome him between them and you nod at his words, even though you’re mainly focused on his cock.

“Yeah? You’d like that?” he lines up the tip with your entrance and you nod desperately, feeling yourself get even more turned on. “You’d like me to cum inside you, watch it leak out of you when we go for rounds?”

You’re a moaning mess by the time he slips it inside. You cling to his shoulders, face scrunched up in pleasure when you’re able to feel the sheer size of him inside you. Holy shit.

“Yeah baby, you won’t even have to work for it,” he adds, sounding out of breath. He pushes your legs up and shamelessly stares at how you’re taking his dick—your pussy swallows him back every time he tries to pull out, almost begs him to keep fucking you.

“Gonna give my pretty girl exactly what she wants—shit, gonna fuck her full of my cum,” your tummy is alive with butterflies at his words, and you stare up at the man who looks so focused on your pussy. Feeling your stare, Shinichiro locks eyes with you and chuckles. He’s all sweaty and fucked out himself, and the smile he flashes you when he starts to drill his cock into you is devilish.

He knew what he was doing, and you weren’t complaining about it. Your body feels on fire with every drive of is hips, fingernails digging into the skin of his back when he reaches that one spongy spot in your walls—you squeal, hands traveling down almost to push his hips away and that’s when he knows he found it and fuck—he starts to bully it.

You’re a sobbing mess, begging for absolutely nothing in particular but you keep chanting ‘please, please, please’ repeatedly, and Shincihiro has to lean down and kiss you. He soothes you with his lips, a heavy contrast to his mean thrusts. He’s fucking every thought out of your brain, and by the time you’re even able to come up with a coherent sentence, he pushes a single leg up on his shoulders—and your entire body seizes up.

You’re cumming hard around him, your jaw has gone slack and Shinichiro doesn’t stop. The bed shakes with every harsh thrust, and by the time you’re able to breathe again, you’re letting out a small scream at the intensity of your orgasm.

“Atta girl—fuuuuck, gonna make me cum,” he whines out the last part, his hands pinning your hips down to the mattress. You cry out from overstimulation, your pussy aching for him to slow down.

“Just a bit more baby, just a little—“ It only takes a few strokes for him to empty himself in the condom, reaching down to rest his forehead on your shoulder. You’re both a sweaty, panting mess, clinging onto each other as though you were one another’s life line. And even through heavy breaths, you kiss Shinichiro’s cheek, giggling when you see him smile.

“Are you okay?” He kisses your shoulder lovingly, letting his lips travel up to your neck where he feels you hum. You look down at him, letting your fingers brush the sweaty strands out of his face.

“Never been better,” Shinichiro grins at this, and he fixes himself until he’s able to kiss you properly on the lips. He makes it short and sweet, trying his best not to get carried away again because he knew you were definitely sore.

“Come on, you gotta get up and pee, darling.”

“And shower… I feel so sticky,” you make a face at the word sticky and the man above you chuckles at this.

“I like you like this, you smell like me.”

“Shin!”

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[beneathashadytree]

CALLING THEM DADDY - PRANKING THE LOVE AND DEEPSPACE MEN

Warnings : vague mentions of sex and roles in bed, all the men portrayed as switches here, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : suggestive n silly fluff

Additional notes : I’m not gonna lie, this killed me while writing it😭😭 I honestly think that these men are too into having you as their lover that they don’t naturally gravitate to a certain role in sex—so it makes sense to me that they wouldn’t want to be limited to being doms only! Just my two cents anyways🙏🏽 Working on my four upcoming commissions btw! Almost done with the first couple too, so don’t worry🫶🏽

Commissions are open here!

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[matryosika]

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth. 

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?” 

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway. 

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?” 

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”. 

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”. 

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished. 

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind. 

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”. 

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”. 

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung. 

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”. 

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”. 

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to. 

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder. 

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back. 

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards. 

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees. 

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”. 

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you. 

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”. 

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches. 

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”. 

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit. 

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

 So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations. 

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it. 

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it. 

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?” 

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”. 

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs. 

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”. 

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you. 

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time. 

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable. 

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there. 

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you. 

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?” 

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast. 

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile. 

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”. 

[whirlybirbs]

— BURNER CELL ; 2 ; DABI ; 荼毗

summary: after a week of silence, you finally text dabi. pairing: dabi / f!reader ; quirkless word count: 1.3k tag: humor, maladjusted dabi meets normal adult woman, flirting, canon-based world building, cancer mention, texting as a plot device, slight au, univeristy student!reader a/n: this stole all my concentration. siri play emo boy by ayesha erotica ← previous | the tag

It's the kind of week where, aside from class, human interaction isn't really on life's setlist. 

It's also the kind of week where you rediscover making a meal of raw cookie dough straight from the package. Your econ textbook might have a stranglehold on you, but you make enough time to scarf down a few globs between chapters — after all, who needs protein or fiber when you're sure this five-year master's program will kill you first?

Your head hurts.

You slump against the counter, refilling your water bottle. 

It's late now — and you can feel the quiet woes beginning to wane as you blink at the clock. By now, your friends are probably on their second or third drinks. You turned the invite down when they asked yesterday. Nuri tugged on your sweater sleeve and pouted the best pout she could manage, but you didn't budge. 

I've gotta finish this paper, I'm sorry, Nur'. 

You roll your jaw as you shut the faucet off, wandering to your freezer to wrangle some cubes from the tray. You bend it slowly, deep in thought. A few pop out, and you idly drop them into your water bottle with a twang. 

You're staring at your phone. It's by your computer on the counter. 

...You never did text Dabi. 

You told yourself it was for the best — after all, you weren't looking for a catastrophic derailment of your life at the moment. Things are good. You're two semesters away from finishing University, your family's bakery back in Kyoto is doing well, and Dad's chemotherapy seems to be working. Things are good! It's almost fall, you've managed to stick to your monthly budget, and Mizu settled in happily to your new apartment. 

No four-day poop strike like the last time you moved.

The large tuxedo cat in question ambles through the kitchen — brushing against your leg and letting out a long, low mrrooow. 

Things are great! 

You shouldn't text Dabi.

But... even if you did, it's not like it'd be the end of the world, right?

Wait, could he figure out where you lived from your number...?

You could use one of those anonymous texting services. Then, it wouldn't even be your number. Just some fake string of digits that allow you to satiate the bizarre curiosity that's been swirling in your head for the last week. 

You're sure the novelty will wear off. 

He's probably not even going to respond. 

You're telling yourself this is stupid as you begin to set up an account with the service — the app boasts privacy, andunlimited calls and texts... You can't help but feel a little strange as you finalize your account. 

It's done.

You import his contact with two taps and stare at the blank screen. 

...Now what?

Are you really going to do this? I mean — he's a wanted criminal. He's a member of the League of Villains. If anyone ever found out you were in contact with him, you'd be toast. You'd have All Might kicking your door in and demanding to look through your phone and that mental image is enough to make you cringe. Say goodbye to your degree, goodbye toyour future as Sakura Flour's owner, and goodbye to freedom. You're sure the Safety Commission would place you on some watch list for the rest of your life, and frankly, your tweets are already questionable. You don't need more scrutiny. 

...So, there are two options. 

Delete his number and move on... or don't get caught. 

You shouldn't text Dabi.

...But, you do.

Truth be told, he isn't shocked to see that cute Nuri girl hanging on Giran's arm again. The Broker seems pretty into her — the guy even mentioned something about taking her to a nice dinner during the week as a congrats on passing some big test. Dabi can't blame him. She's cute. Looks good in red. Not his type, but he can appreciate it from time to time.

However, Dabi is a little shocked that you're not a part of the group cheering in Giran's VIP section. There's bottle service being ordered, laughter, dancing, and a gaggle of pretty, five college girls — and none of them are you. 

His lips twist into a scowl. 

He decides he's leaving; his piss-poor drink is tossed back, and he dumps a bill down for the bartender before tugging his hood up and sucking his teeth. 

He never liked this club anyway.

He's crossing the threshold of the back door, stepping into the damp and dark alley, when the phone in his back pocket buzzes. Someone's smoking a Marlboro by the dumpster. The familiar smell makes Dabi's fingers twitch. 

He's tryna quit.

He tugs the phone from his pocket, no longer bothered by the splintered glass screen. His battery is at 13%. This fuckin' thing barely holds a charge anymore. 

The number on the screen isn't one he knows.

Dabi's passcode is unnecessarily long. His phone clicks open as he narrows his eyes and shambles towards the opening in the alley. He doesn't know this number. He has everyone's cell memorized that he needs. Shigaraki, Toga, Spinner, Jin, Compress, even Giran. He doesn't keep contacts. Doesn't work when he's ditching phones all the time. He's got his noggin. That's good enough.

The text is one word:

hi.

Dabi's squinting at the text when another buzzes through. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:48pm sorry, this is bar girl

→ dabi ; 11:46pm thought u were never gonna txt me ur girlie nuri is here where r u

There's no way.

Your phone buzzes three times from its far place where it sits face down on the counter — you just walked away from it, hellbent on distracting yourself while you waited out the potential reply. You go rigid in your kitchen. 

Did he seriously text you back immediately?

You purse your lips, then slink towards the phone. It buzzes again.

→ dabi ; 11:47pm c'mon don't leave me hangin pretty

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the string of replies. He has read receipts turned on like the psychopath he is. 

You lean back against the counter, chewing your cuticle as you let out a ragged sigh. Nuri is with him? Or... No, they said they were going to that club you hate. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:4pam oh, are they at the bar?‎

Dabi's fingers move fast.

→ dabi ; 11:49pm nah in downtown club tropical or whatever the fuck it's called

You snort a little.

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:49pm i hate that place. their drinks suck.

Dabi has started making his way back to their hideout — back to the shit box apartments they're renting above Kurogiri's bar. He's slow, idly texting as he weaves through the crowds of nightlife in Kamino Ward. 

→ dabi ; 11:50pm a girl after my own heart where r u ur dodging my question u on a date or smthng????

He's insistent, you'll give him that. You cross your legs as you lean back against the laminate counter and chew the inside of your lip.

He's typing. It starts, then stops, then starts again. 

When you start typing, the bubble disappears. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:50pm nah, got a huge paper to finish uni student, remember? sorry to disappoint 

→ dabi ; 11:51pm ur missin out giran got bottle service  him and nuri looked cozy

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:51pm not shocked she thinks she can fix him

→ dabi ; 11:51pm ooooo love when that happens poor girl

Typing... 

Typing...

→ dabi ; 11:51pm u think u can fix me? :p

The emoji makes your face break into a smile — it's so... not what you expected. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:52pm nah i'm not stupid

→ dabi ; 11:52pm just busy.... really lame of u tbh coulda been fun

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:52pm wasting cash on mid drinks is the opposite of fun

→ dabi ; 11:52pm i meant seeing me

Oh, what the fuck.

Why does that text make your face feel hot? Why does that text make you feel like you're not texting the League of Villain's #1 Arsonist, but some cute boy from class? He's not a cute boy from class. He's a danger to society. 

You're glad you don't have the opportunity to reply. Your phone is buzzing in your hands, the haptic feedback lighting the neurons in your brain on fire.  

→ dabi ; 11:53pm gtg phone is gonna die have fun with ur paper u loser hope u get a good grade or whatever i'll txt u later

You shouldn't have texted Dabi.

But you did. 

[tekumaniac311]

A fine-a## Commission done by the one, the only @onyxonline, herself!

So as you can see, these are my riders in their Overdrive modes! Allow me to demonstrate.

Dogbite's Overdrive: It's almost the same as his older brother Dogday's, the difference being his blasts and attacks are wilder, more aggressive, that's Dogbite for ya. Always wanting to one up his brother in EVERYTHING.

Drago's Overdrive: His overdrive is literally him turning into human torch, but blue. Oh, if you know your science, blue fire is HOTTER. He becomes a literal FIREBENDER in Overdrive and Drago makes sure you are down for the count.

Leopardaisy's Overdrive: Being the stealth expert, Leopardaisy's Overdrive allows her to use her invisibility and phasing skills INFINITE. Her Overdrive also allows her to move faster and more agile, don't try running away from this vibin leopard now!

Berserkerine's Overdrive: Oh boy...Out of the four, Berserk is the most destructive, the most unstable, the most SAVAGE. Turning into an electrifying berserker rage, ignoring all pain. And yes his claws, strength, speed are enhanced as well. One other thing to note: Berserkerine is only allowed to use his Overdrive as a last resort.

[theoldoor]

commission so good you make fanart outta it BRO

aventurine is literally my art meth cuz wtf do u mean I DID THIS IN 10 MINUTES???

i gotta wait until the comm actually finishes cuz this is done based on the almost finalized version AND IM ALREADY GIDDIED UP AS HELL AAAAUUHHH

domestic vashrir/avenrir save me…. domestic avenrir….. oooooohhuhuhuhuhhh

(ART COMMISSION FROM LAKE19907 ON TWT/TIKTOK PLS GO COMM THEM THEYRE THE SWEETEST RAAGGGH)

Fenrir is the domestic guy. Awfully domestic that is - IP3 honorary member LMFAO

I just like to think the four flock to Aventurine’s house sometimes to have a little dinner together. More often when Fenrir comes around cuz yk how that man values quality time together. Well, he’d be the orchestrator of the cooking part - or just the only one who cooks. Aventurine will prepare the plates and cutleries + drinks while Topaz takes care of the dessert. Dr Ratio? He’ll clean the room and the table. Everyone has a role… omgfmgmg domestic IP3… im sicCCCKKKK

A little mishap happens once in a while, like this time Fenrir flipped the egg and forgot to catch it and yk who always clean up his shit. hell yea dr ratio ure the goat.

(fenrir got a beating afterwards)

[sleepsentry]

With permission to post, a watermark, and a lot of compression, this is the big commission I've been working on for the past few weeks.

This one's for @f-imaginings and chapter 55 of their very good fic!

This one is kinda years in the making considering I've been reading that fic since my last years of high-school-

It was the main thing I read for a good while on the bus and I've read it twice all the way through.

I remember sitting at a desk during a free study class, genuinely vibrating with excitement when a chapter dropped in late 2019 or 2020.

My chair was rattling.

I originally found the fic through some gorgeous commissions they had done at the time and it inspired me to read the fic with as vivid an imagination as possible, despite my reading issues and not having glasses, that I really badly needed, yet.

My favourite part was the sci-fi worldbuilding and the characterisations of the henchmaniacs. A favourite joke of mine being keyhole's extended family and their pun names.

So I was very excited when asked about a commission from the author, although I had to decline, and that was almost four years ago now.

And now that I'm finally set up to take commissions here we have it!

Point is: I hope all that comes through in the final piece. :^]

So thank you very much to @f-imaginings!

[sissytobitch10seconds]

I think it's kind of interesting that Viktor is overshadowed by his siblings both in the canon and fanon.

In season one I could understand it. Despite Viktor being the main character that literally drives the entire plot, everyone focuses on the other characters. People make fun of Luther for talking about the moon all the time. Everyone is almost creepily obsessed with Klaus and the Vietnam fling that he had. No one really talks about Allison, but her story is primarily linked with Viktor's since she's trying to heal their relationship (fandom misogyny too). I think that there's a decent amount of talk around Five since he's such a fascinating character. There's quite a lot of talking about Diego too, since he loses Eudora and spends a lot of time trying to take care of Klaus. But no one really talks about Viktor and the amount of shit that he goes through in s1. All the siblings other than Allison completely abandon him too, and Allison only wants the idea of a 'sister' that she's built up in her head since she lost her husband and daughter.

In season two, it makes even less sense to not talk about what Viktor has done. He has a queer love story with Sissy and we get to see way more development and chemistry for, Klaus and Dave had a montage and some sad lines from Klaus as opposed to an entire arc through ten episodes, but no one really does anything with it. Allison gets basically no attention for the same fandom misogyny issues as before. Five gets some attention because of the fact that he's exhausted and still dealing with the Commission (his fight scenes are amazing). Diego gets the same treatment as Luther did but a little more deserving because the plan to save JFK was stupid. Luther gets totally sidelined and ignored too, but people really hated him in S1 so I'm not surprised. Klaus gets all the attention again even though his plot outside of Ben possessing him is honestly really boring and makes me so uncomfortable.

Season three is where Viktor should have gotten the most attention. If we're considering the fact that the TUA fandom has a very queer audience, then they should be super excited and celebrating the fact that Viktor is trans. Not only that, but he's also working his ass off so that he can fix things for Allison and get her back to a timeline where her daughter exists or back to the sixties. I think a lot of people ignore that, giving Five more credit than he deserves for trying to fix the world when Viktor was doing that until Harlan showed up and he wanted to handle that first. A lot of attention during the debut went again to Klaus, which was actually warranted this time since he was plot relevant by showing us things about Reggie and discovering his powers. Diego got more attention since he was parenting Stan and fighting with Lila, which was nice. Five got some meme attention but nothing serious and Luther got a little bit of genuine love. But mostly people just posted the conversation where Viktor comes out to his family and continued to ignore him.

Now Season four is out and no one cares about Viktor. He stands up to Reginald and says all of the things that he needs to say, he fights like Hell to try and save Ben from the Durango and get him someplace stable, he owns a bar and got fucking KIDNAPPED. No one is talking about him, all people are doing is complaining about fivela and the ending.

Viktor moved to Nova Scotia probably to get better trans healthcare, but also because none of his siblings care about him. My man is a tiny trans man that got kidnapped and ransomed off the street and they couldn't care less about him when they show up, Five is taking notes about the room they're in instead of checking to make sure that his childhood best friend is okay. Luther may have made him best man at his wedding, but it was just because Viktor had only just come out and all the other siblings were non options (never been close with Five, butted heads with Diego who didn't even want the wedding to happen, not their Ben, and Klaus was officiating) which was the same reason Lila was Sloane's maid of honor. Diego and Viktor barely spare two words at each other despite their closeness in the comics. Lila and Allison say something briefly to him before they also fuck off further into the plot.

Viktor isn't liked by his family despite them trying to include him in it when it's convenient for them, and he's also disliked by the fandom. I went into the TUA tag and about half of the top twenty posts were about someone else with him tacked on as an afterthought.

[libraryofgage]

Life in Miniature (Two)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four | Five Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One | Two 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One | Two (you're here!) Queen Clarisse Renaldi One | Two | Three

So, I'm not dead, despite any suspicions otherwise lmao; life just got a little wild and I needed a tiny break from writing, but hopefully I'll be back! We'll see! I'm literally on my knees begging my brain so maybe it'll stick lmao

Anyway, this part was line-jumped on Ko-Fi! If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

Also also! I actually commissioned a wonderful friend of mine (@gamanyne) to draw Emperor Steve! She also did my current header and icon, so you know her art is fucking peak. Anyway, it'll be attached at the bottom of the fic so have fun getting there

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

"Heard the guard mention you've got some new blood in your display, Ocky."

Octavius glanced over as Jedediah sauntered through the hidden tunnel that connects their displays. It had been built during their admittedly embarrassing courtship, a gift from that time's night guard.

He'd been waiting for exactly this moment, and some of his nervous energy drained when Jedediah stood close enough for their shoulders to brush. He turned to face Jedediah, staying close so he can keep his voice quiet. "Yes, a new battalion and..."

"And?"

"A young emperor."

Jedediah whistled lowly, eyebrows rising as he looked over Octavius's shoulder at the buildings across the display. It was all pillars and domes and aged marble, but newly added splashes of color could be spotted here and there. "He a brat?" Jedediah asked.

"He is my sovereign!"

"Yeah, sure," Jedediah said, shrugging as he met Octavius's eyes, "but is he a brat?"

Octavius felt indignation rise in his chest but quickly subdued it. He knew Jedediah meant well. And then he saw the smirk on Jedediah's face. "Lover or not, I can not tolerate insults to the emperor," he said.

Jedediah hummed and held his hands up in surrender. "Still ain't answered my question, Ocky."

"I don't know!" Octavius finally exclaimed, looking away when Jedediah blinked at his outburst. "Admittedly, I was more focused on seeing you than meeting him."

"Gee, almost sounds like you've got a crush on me, Ocky. That's kinda embarrassing, don't you think?"

"We have done things that would make satyrs blush, Jedediah. Are we not past embarrassment?"

"Still embarrassing," Jedediah said, grinning wider when Octavius finally looked back at him. "Don't worry, Ocky. He's just a kid. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Child emperors do not have the most...positive reputation," Octavius said. He frowned, looking away as Jedediah glanced over his shoulder again. "Many are spoiled and unaware of how politics should be conducted."

"Ocky...," Jedediah whispered, reaching out to tug on Octavius's cape.

Octavius smiled, appreciating the comforting gesture. "Short tempers are also common, and I worry about any palace staff that anger him. They are just as likely to have their head cut off as they are to walk away."

"Uh, Ocky," Jedediah said, tugging on the cape again.

"And perhaps I am getting ahead of myself, but I don't look forward to measures that may need to be taken if my soldiers are terrorized by a, well, as you put it, love, a brat."

"Ocky!" Jedediah shouted, grabbing Octavius's shoulders and spinning him around.

"Ah," Octavius said, a cold sweat covering him at the sight of the young emperor staring at them. Strands of brown hair fell over the golden laurels at his temples to curl around equally brown eyes. He's taller than Octavius expected, nearly reaching his own height, and older, too. He was, perhaps, around 20, meaning he had several years' experience as emperor.

Above all, though, Octavius managed to see the brief flash of...insecurity? Perhaps it was self-directed disappointment and acceptance? Whatever it was, it vanished the next moment as the young emperor pressed his lips into a thin line, rolled his shoulders back, and said, "General Octavius."

Hearing the young emperor's voice finally freed Octavius from his frozen shock. He cleared his throat, placed a fist over his heart, and bowed to the emperor. "Your Majesty," he said, "What can I do for you?"

"You can raise your head," the young emperor said. When Octavius did, he saw tensed shoulders, and he was briefly overcome by the thought that someone so young should not, in fact, look as if they carry the weight of the world. "I intended to have you introduce me to the soldiers, but I see that you're busy."

Octavius cleared his throat and stepped aside so Jedediah was easier to see. He then placed a hand on Jedediah's shoulder and said, "My liege, this is Jedediah, Cowboy King of the Wild West, and my close companion."

"Woah, woah, cowboy king?" Jedediah whispered, glancing at Octavius like he might be crazy.

"Ah, I see," the young emperor replied, nodding respectfully to Jedediah. ""I am Servius Tullius, Sixth King of Rome, son of Vulcan, weapons master of the gods. I look forward to making your acquaintance at a later date."

"Uh, yeah, acquaintance making and stuff," Jedediah said, nodding back with a strained smile. "I'll be sure to pencil ya in."

"Yes, well," the young emperor replied, his jaw ticking slightly like he wanted to say something but held himself back. "Until then."

Octavius watched as he turned on his heel and walked back to the palace. It wasn't until the emperor was halfway there that Jedediah leaned closer and asked, "He seem a little off to you?"

"Yes, a little."

------------

Steve glances at Eddie, both to make sure he isn't about to fall off Rexy and just because he wants to. Eddie's hair is a little frizzy and his cheeks are flushed, but Steve assumes that's just from performing in front of such a large crowd earlier.

"So, you are a performer," he says as Rexy makes his way to the stairs. "Who did you apprentice under?"

"I didn't," Eddie replies, frowning slightly. "I mean, I just taught myself. Like, with YouTube and stuff."

"Oh! Yes, YouTube, I have seen many cat videos with Robin. I was unaware there were other kinds of videos available."

Eddie snorts, and Steve thinks it's a surprisingly endearing sound. "Yeah, definitely more than cat videos, Stevie," he says, drumming his fingers along Rexy's skull before asking, "So, uh, you're an emperor...does that mean there's an empress?"

"No," Steve says, glancing away and returning Attila the Hun's wave when they pass him. "I should have, but it just never happened."

"Why not? Is it okay to ask?"

"I don't mind. It was naive and bullheaded of me, but I wanted an empress I actually liked."

"Nothing wrong with wanting love, sweetheart," Eddie says, bumping their shoulders together.

"I agree."

Silence settles over them, and Steve wonders if feeling this awkward is normal. He's never had a problem keeping a conversation going with Robin, and his fathers are plenty good at bantering. But here, he's not sure how to proceed. Robin once told him that he can come off as arrogant, someone others don't want to be around, and he's trying to not do that with Eddie.

He thinks Eddie is handsome. If Steve could only convince him, he's sure a chest-plate and shield would make Eddie look particularly dashing. Steve also likes the way Eddie looks at him. It's not quite the devotion he's seen from people under his rule; Eddie's gaze is far more heated than that, making Steve's skin prickle wherever it lands.

"Hey," Eddie says, pulling Steve out of his thoughts, "how's all this coming to life stuff really work? It's not actually that tablet thing, right?"

"It is," Steve replies, nodding once. "Ahkmenrah's tablet was a gift from his parents, who wanted their family to stay together even in death. It harnesses the power of noble Luna and the stars that surround her to breathe life into everyone here. Without his presence, you and I wouldn't be talking right now."

"That's....kind of crazy," Eddie says, trying to wrap his brain around it. "I mean, magic?"

"How else might we be alive right now? According to Robin, you and I are but plastic, perhaps wax or wood depending on our manufacturer."

"But I don't feel like plastic or whatever," Eddie replies, poking at his own arm before poking at Steve's as well. "Neither do you. You feel, like, warm and alive."

"Yes, because of the tablet's magic. Would you like to see it? Ahkmenrah is very understanding of new exhibits that wish to look upon it."

Eddie looks like he's about to nod when he suddenly stops and tilts his head. Steve looks in the direction his gaze has gone and smiles when he sees the temporary exhibit about the history of party fashion. It's only in the museum for a few more days, and the people inside have been partying even harder in the face of their fleeting mortality.

Steve assumes Eddie's attention was attracted by the music, so he looks back and asks, "Would you like to join them?"

"Aren't we, uh, a little small for that?" Eddie asks.

Steve grins as he knocks on Rexy's skull twice. The dinosaur comes to a sliding halt outside the exhibit and lowers its head until its jaw is touching the ground. "Do you trust me?" Steve asks, standing and offering his hand to Eddie.

"Uh, yeah, I think," he says, taking Steve's hand.

His grin widening, Steve tugs Eddie to his feet and then leads him carefully down Rexy's skull. When they reach its snout, they're still a few feet off the ground. "Please don't say I have to make that jump," Eddie says, frowning at the distance.

"Don't worry," Steve says, letting go of Eddie's hand in favor of simply picking him up instead. "You're not the one jumping."

Eddie's eyes are wide as he clings to Steve's neck, glancing between the floor and Steve like he might be insane. Steve flashes a bright, reassuring smile before walking to the edge of Rexy's snout and simply jumping down.

"Holy shit!" Eddie shouts, holding onto Steve tighter and flinching when he feels the jolt of Steve landing. "You're crazy. How are your legs not broken?"

"I am the son of a god," Steve says, carefully placing Eddie on his feet once more. "A mere jump wouldn't harm me."

Eddie is quiet for a few moments, his face red as he looks at the entrance to the exhibit. He takes a deep breath, nods once, and says, "Man, they'd better have tequila in there."

----------

Tag List (if you'd like to be added, please let me know!)

@itsall-taken, @acaademicqueer, @mx-jinxous, @y4r3luv, @daydreaming-mood, @just-a-tiny-void, @villainousalair,

So, as promised, here is the art I commissioned from my wonderful friend @gamanyne of Steve in his Roman outfit!

[nomiqbomi]

Updated designs for Fophid and Lepignito commissioned by my friend @plus-sizedscribe! Plus a new middle form, Impodster, and 4 distinct formes that Lepignito can take, based on the environment it evolves in.

More info under the tab!

Fophid are timid creatures with many predators. Their carapace has evolved to blend in perfectly with an arboreal environment. When provoked, it wields the branch-like appendage on its abdomen like a lance. It has no venom, it's quite sharp!

Impodster attaches itself firmly to tree limbs, disguising itself as a small branch. Once it has done this, it is impossible to detach until it evolves. (It would be much easier to take the entire branch with it!) It does not budge, even after being discovered. Individuals who have camouflaged themselves poorly can often be found with leaves full of holes, made by bird Pokemon that attempted to carry them away.

When Impodster evolves into Lepignito, it takes on a perfect likeness of its immediate environment. Four unique patternings, based the biomes it occurs in naturally, have been officially recorded; however, it is believed that new patterns could be created by evolving the pokemon in a unique environment.

Even when their immediate environment does not match the markings on their wings, they somehow still manage to obscure themselves from view. Many theories have been pose as to how they are able to do this, but none have been proven, as this behavior is quite difficult to observe.

It prefers to sit motionlessly and evade detection, but when provoked, it uses its stealth to confound opponents and catch them unawares. Once the opponent has become disoriented, it flies off into the shadows, never to be seen again.

---

The line is based on the Peppered Moth, which are a famous example of natural selection that has actually been observed and recorded in real-time. The moth originally evolved to camouflage against lightly-colored trees, but a melanic mutation became more genetically favorable during the industrial revolution, when the trees became blackened with soot. After environmental standards were introduced, the white variant became common again. Today both variations can be found, and they are often mistaken for different species!

Plussized-Scribe helped conceptually with the variations/typing, with his own rom-hack in mind. I may add more variations for my own fan project.

I had originally designed Fophid to camouflage with the forest floor, but during my redesign I found out that the peppered caterpillar camouflages itself as a tree branch. I thought that was neat, to I went with that angle instead.

I also added a middle form to make it a better counterpart for the Pareyeva line who use the opposite form of self defense!

Edit: @plus-sizedscribe wrote some really great Pokedex entries for his hack that he allowed me to share here as well:

"Unlike Sewaddle, the leafy bits Fophid sport are not fashion statements, but specialized organs for camouflage. In autumn, their bodies release chemicals to redden the organs and match the foliage.

The base of the headcrest pulls double duty as a third mandible. Thus, Fophid can chew better while also maintaining camouflage, as the shaking of the crest resembles a leaf trembling in the breeze."

"Having secured themselves on a sturdy tree trunk, Impodster steadfastly await evolution. Very little can dislodge these Pokémon, which are nearly helpless if they happen to end up on the ground.

Impodster with poor camouflage are often found with leaves full of holes. These are made by naïve bird Pokémon attempting to carry them away, only to realize they picked almost the worst prey they could."

"Some people claim to have fallen for a person who always wore a long coat, only for their lover to turn out to be a Lepignito. The veracity of these bizarre anecdotes is suspect, to say the least.

Lepignito live in trees whose bark match their wing patterns. They boast different patterns to blend in with the available types of trees in the regions they inhabit. At least 25 different varieties are known."

[mandiemegatron]

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐞 || 𝟑𝟎 || 𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬 || 𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 ♡

♡ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧! ♡

🚫 MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY.

♡ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐨𝟑 𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐞! ♡

° ᴍ ᴀ ꜱ ᴛ ᴇ ʀ ʟ ɪ ꜱ ᴛ °

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬 ;

Fuck Up My Makeup : Eustass x cis!fem Reader, nsfw/nsft.

The World in my Hands : Eustass x cis!fem Reader, light nsfw/nsft.

Losing The War : Eustass x cis!fem reader. SADNESS AHOY! Pure angst.

Cold Breeze : Eustass x g/n reader. Small blurb! The In-between : Part two of Too Much Labour. Kid/Killer x cisfem!reader. Some angst, mild nsfw-nsft themes.

Four Times We Missed : Law x cis!fem Reader. super sweet and feelsy.

Breathless : Law x cis!fem Reader, hella sweet and soft.

Another Year With You : Law x cis!fem Reader. Laws Birthday fic. Soft, slice of life, a little angsty.

Taste Of The Divine : Law x cis!fem Reader minific. 2/2, completed. nsfw/nsfw, heavy sexual content.

The Way You Look At Law : Law x GN reader. Small blurb.

(You Make Me Do) Too Much Labour : Law x cis!fem Reader. Some sexual themes present, mostly angst.

Here, With You : Law x cis!fem reader. Some sexual themes present. Winnings for @icy-spicy 💖

Worship Me : Doflamingo x cis!fem Reader. Mentions of sex, song fic.

Tangled Inside : Doflamingo x cis!fem Reader. nsfw/nsft

A Moments Peace : Doflamingo x cis!fem Reader. mentions of sex.

Die For Me (Live For Me) : Doflamingo x cis!fem Reader. Mentions of blood, beheading, heavy sexual content.

To Be Loved : Rosinante x cis!fem Reader. nsfw/nsft, heavy sexual content.

Con Corazon : Rosinante x afab!reader. Nsfw/nsft, heavy sexual content. Winnings for @laidenbreecatchall 💖

Added To The List : Sanji x cis!fem Reader. Fluff, slice of life, light sexual content.

Birthday Crumble : Sanji x cis!fem named Reader. nsfw/nsft, heavy sexual content. Birthday gift for @therion-woods

Tasting The Wonders : Sanji x oc! , Winnings for @leftsidebonfire ! Fluffy and soft.

Under You : Zoro x cis!fem Reader. nsfw/nsft.

Just A Taste : Zoro x cis!fem Reader. nsfw/nsft.

Almost Too Warm : Shachi x cis!fem Reader, nsfw/nsft.

Simplicity : Penguin x cis!fem Reader. soft, slice of life. Milestone Giveaway prize for @guilty-sugar

Vaccination Day (Penguins version) : G/N reader, silly mini scenario.

Surprise, Surprise : Kaku x cis!fem Reader. nsfw/nsft. Secret Santa gift for @wolfegoddess

In His Hands : Killer x g/n reader. Slight mentions of sexual themes.

The Danger Of Being Yours : Sir Crocodile x cis!fem reader. Sexual themes present.

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 ;

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬, 𝐞𝐜𝐭...

First Time : Marco x Reader hc ; nsfw/nsft

First Time : Shachi x Reader hc ; nsfw/nsft

Abt. Doffy : Doflamingo x Reader hc ; nsfw/nsft

Fishman Shachi/Penguin : Shachi x Penguin x Reader hc/minific ; nsfw/nsft

Shachi with a Shy Reader : some nsfw/nsft themes.

Heart Pirate Boys sharing their hats with you! : Law, Shachi and Penguin x G/N Reader : suitable for all ages.

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞 //

All of my One Piece commissions done by various artists, all in one place! ♡ Will be updated occasionally 💖

𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 ;

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬 //

Sweeter Taste : Saeyoung x Reader. a lil Valentines treat.

Purple & Green : Yoosung x OC (can be viewed as reader as well)! Super sweet and silly. [Ao3 only, guess I didn't post it here!]

For The First Time, In A Long Time : Jumin x OC (can be viewed as reader as well) Jumin deserves to have a break, goddamn it!

♡ Created 08/11/23 ♡

UPDATED 06/27/24

[bowties8glasses]

Two commissions made for @daroachie, both being his OC becoming real (designed)

One is Fabian, a smeargle whose tail lacks the fluid the species use for paint, he pursued making cooked and baked goods, using his dry tail almost like a food brush instead!

The other is Erena, a glaceon who is the main antagonist of Daro's story, you can read it here! c^^

Creative Process:

First commission is of Fabian (done in may), most of his lore was already set before, including his outfit which Daro had already doodled (left) which before starting I drew while pretending I didn't know what a smeargle looked like (right)

then came my genuine attempt

I choose to give Fabian a lil' red nose (like Rudolph) based on Daro's sketch (something he said was just him misremembering the pokemon)

I wanted the piece to involve Fabian doing some kind of multi-tasking, his hands on one thing while the tail is busy with another

it took a few drafts before landing on the version that became the final pic

Second commission was of Erena (done in august), it's been a long time coming considering her role and the fact her gf became real first

Daro notes for the design were just that she has a ice arm, and that she had "gremlim energy"

I started by drawing not her, but Sio and Cerys first (the main Daro OCs) so to use them as reference of how she'd contrast with them, especially Sio, who has something in common with her

designing process went by smooth, since Sio has more angular features than sylveons usually do, I thought Erena could then have more curled and rounded parts

most of my focus was on the face, I wanted her to have a meanine kind of look, using Jessie TeamRocket as reference for the eyes, plus I was dead set on giving her mouth a little "Lupin the 3rd"-type curve, Daro wasn't sure on it at first but now he considers it very important c^^

alongside a render of her standing on all fours, I wanted to do a pose that showed her "in action" of sorts

I first did the sketch that became the render, but before deciding on it I wanted to do another attempt, for a pose that also showed her back, which I thought could have unique markings kinda like a tattoo, unfortunately that pose wasn't working out

(unshaded version)

last detail was adding a black spot in Erena's ice arm, the arm was made after she got wounded, that spot is then is a trace of that wound

bonus cerys:

[mysteria157]

Chapter 17

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~7.7k

CW: brief sexual content, profanity, lots of fluff &lt;3

Summary: You work hard to bring life to something dear to Nanami.

Notes: Thank you to all who have been supportive so far. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 Almost there! Happy reading!

Divider: @cafekitsune

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

You gave your mother an olive branch a few days after Christmas. 

A small part of you felt bad for not inviting her over for dinner that night. You planned a nice Christmas meal, and everyone was in attendance. Kento’s mother and father, his grandfather from Denmark, Ome and the rest of your friends, even Choso and Jin. 

But you couldn’t have her there. It was too intimate, too close to home from the last Christmas you spent with her sliding scathing words across her long and elaborate dining table a year ago. You wanted to start small, to give her small chances to test her change in behavior so you could make a decision yourself. 

Kento—who had no wish to entertain her after the little stint almost a year ago in Sendai—was more than happy to see less of her. 

“My love, if you wish to spend more time with her, then that is a decision I will readily support,” he had mumbled against the crown of your hair the night before as you both lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you. “But don’t give her too much. If she hurts you again, I’ll get the restraining order myself.” There wasn’t a trace of softness in his tone, not an ounce of sincerity or joke in the way he spoke.

So, your first olive branch manifested in the cool and barely touched air of Yu’s bakery. The floor was layered with a tarp, four buckets of paint unsealed, both of your hands holding long paint brushes as you rolled beige paint along one of the walls. 

The air was tense, the most you two had spoken was a simple good morning when your mother walked inside earlier that day. But now, an hour later with two walls already done, you could barely breathe through the thickness of awkwardness around you.

Should you say something? Maybe ask her how her week had been. 

No.

You repeated Ome’s mantra in your head over and over, pressing a little harder on your upward stroke, gripping the metal rod a little tighter between your fingers. 

“How was your Christmas?” she asked, her voice unusually soft, lacking its usual arrogance when directed at you. A bitter taste of disdain settled in your mouth, but you swallowed it down, allowing it to simmer in your stomach for the time being.

“It was fine.” Your words were rushed and curt, barreling out of your mouth before you could stop them and had you faltering, staggering your strokes for an uneven coat. “We had dinner. Kento’s family and a few friends came over.”

She was silent, brown hands pushing the rod up, her eyes following the movement as she watched the pain smear with her actions. “Do you own this bakery?” 

“No. It belonged to a friend who passed. It was given to Kento. I wanted to fix it up for him.”

Your mother hummed a soft noise that was rare for her. You were used to huffs of impatience, grunts of disapproval, a tsk, and a shake of her head when you had disappointed her. 

“I’m sure he’s happy you’re doing this for him,” she spoke instead, contradicting your inner thoughts and making you a little angrier.

In truth, Kento had no idea that you were here. Since that night he expressed his readiness to consider reopening the bakery, you meticulously planned your next moves. Between caring for Ulani and having more confidence to handle the influx of commissions, you had the power to determine your schedule and work around what you wanted. 

Kento had no idea that you were listening when he joked about the terrible paint Yu had chosen all those years ago before opening the grand opening. He had no idea you wrote down every single pastry item he envisioned on his menu. He had no idea that while he joked and teased of minor details, you were soaking them all up.

And now you were ready to make it a reality. 

“It’s a surprise,” you admitted, words slipping like gooey slime past your lips as you chastised yourself again for being so open. “So…don’t say anything.”

“I won’t.” You ignored the smile that you could feel grace her features even though your back was turned. It cut through the tense air around her, the corners of her mouth pushing against tension that was suffocating you. “This is a nice thing that you’re doing—”

“I know,” you interrupted, harshly. Your eyebrows furrowed from your actions, a general sensation of upset sliding along your arms as you closed in on what was left of the old paint on the walls.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing!” you hissed at her, the disdain in your belly now a little more pungent as it shot up and out of your throat. “I just—why do you care all of a sudden?!” 

You yanked the rolling brush from the wall, careful not to whack your mother with the wet end even though the thought was a shrieking siren in your mind. She set her own down gracefully, without stumble in a way that made you seethe. 

“I told you why I care. I told you what I’m trying to do. So, excuse me if I apologize for insinuating things about your life. It’s not my place to offer you praise out of the blue and expect you to accept it. So, I’m going to apologize for the times I make you uncomfortable.”

Your mind was reeling from her words. Self-sacrificing and self-aware to a degree that it felt like a smack in the face. Even with her sarcastic quip, it was still filled with a level of sincerity that made you nauseous. 

The mental and emotional whiplash was too powerful, curling and bunching into a migraine that began to ebb between your eyes. Your fingers dug into the black cotton of your overalls, squeezing the fabric between suddenly sweaty fingers as you felt those dormant tendrils of anxiety dance along the skin of your shoulders with mocking movements.

Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe you weren’t as ready as you thought.

“You want me to stop apologizing? Done.” Her hand not on the metal rod lifted in concession. “You want me to only talk when you speak to me? I can do that too. Just let me at least…be here.”

Those tendrils whispered in your ears to kick her out, to make a fool of yourself and let you wallow in self-pity. 

But you did this for a reason. Stuck yourself out there for a reason. Got out of your comfort zone with her for a reason.

And you wouldn’t be able to see any results whatsoever if you had already made it up in your mind that she wasn’t worth the effort.

So, you pulled in a deep breath, the cold air sifting into your nostrils to wash away the irritation inside of you. You picked up your brush and dipped it into the paint bucket once and then twice before bringing it back against the wall.

“How about you start the accent wall behind the register? Once I’m done here, I’ll move onto the other side of the room.” 

You didn’t have much else to say, realizing that until you could control your emotions better, remaining silent was the best option.

You watched her nod, picking up a new rolling brush and a bucket of maroon paint, before offering a gentle smile towards you. You couldn’t help the flutters of warmth that erupted in your chest. It was foreign coming from her, unwanted and trespassing inside of you. You didn’t want to show her that despite your frustration, you were glad she was here to try with you.

So, you didn’t

And with a wavering glance away from her, you turned back to the wall, brushing the roller against it once more.

***

You could only do so much while Kento was at work because of Ulani. So, when you were at the bakery doing renovations, Chiyo and Santo offered to watch her since Ome had to work as well. You kept your work down to only two hours a day, careful not to run his parents ragged with something you still hadn’t told them about. 

No one knew your plans. You couldn’t risk it.

As much as you loved Ome, she would be quick to let something slip in the heat of conversation when she wasn’t paying attention. As much as you could have used Yuji’s strength for some tasks, he was too loose on the tongue and excitable, and it made him an unreliable confidant who was around his sensei far too much. 

You had to pick and choose your people carefully and track your movements without leaving traces behind.

So, you prayed to whoever was listening that the white-haired man in front of you would keep his mouth shut. 

He cradled a Tupperware container in long lanky arms, pressing it against his black Armani long sleeve as he stared down at the contents inside with glee.

“Taste one,” you demanded, admiring the way he ripped off the plastic cover before you could finish speaking. A thumb and pointer finger held a steaming piece of sweet bread, the golden brown flaky texture decorated with drizzles of honey. All sense of decorum left the second he inhaled thick billows of sweet steam, and with only two bites the treat was gone, and he was digging into the container for another. “Gojo, I need you to actually taste the sweet bread, please. You’re huffing it down like a dog.”

He was chewing on a large piece as he tilted his head down, white hair brushing against pale skin as he observed you. His bright blue eyes peeked at you from behind his glasses, cusped over the tops of round dark blue shades as they slid down his nose.

“Did Ome say something about me?”

“No?”

“Did I fuck something up when I watched Ulani a few days ago?”

“No. Gojo—”

“So why are you giving me sweet bread? I love your cooking, but you never cook only for me. So, what’s the catch?”

Your teeth dug into the side of your cheek, biting hard on the wet gummy texture as you watched him start on his third piece. He would be done with the entire container before he walked out of your door and you needed to think fast.

“If I tell you, promise not to say anything.” His eyes were still as he pondered you, blue ocean irises vast and overwhelming that you had to look away. “I’m trying to make sweet bread. For Kento. But I want to make it the way Yu did. And you’re the only person I know that has an affinity for sweets that borders on the need for clinical study.” He shrugged in indifference, somehow—but not surprisingly—flattered by the insult. “I just want to get it right. Would you be willing to taste-test all my batches? Your reward is the entire container each time.”

He scoffed, blemish-free cheeks puffed from the dough behind them, chewing thoughtfully as he considered your ask. Gojo missed Yu and thought about him almost every day. But he was never as close to him as Kento and Geto, never as understanding and pure when they were kids. And as a result, his recovery from grief was much quicker. He bounced back with a quickness that worried you but was no surprise to his friends around him.

“These are a lot of sweets; don’t you care about my health?”

“You are a thirty-one-year-old man with not even a hint of pre-diabetes despite the amount of glucose you ingest. You’ll be fine.”

Gojo was too busy stuffing another piece in his mouth to argue with you.

***

“Your hands are dryer than usual, love,” Kento spoke against the skin of them, kissing your knuckles and the deep cracks along the sides of your fingers. You were blissfully relaxed, pliant, and warm beneath the covers of your bed as you let him caress you. 

It was undeniable that your hands had become unusually dry. You took care of your skin with the amount of throwing you performed for commissions. But lately, you had been crafting more than usual.

Kento thought you were finishing piece after piece for the prolific ceramic artists who shoved their contact info in your hands at Choso’s exhibit a few weeks prior.

In reality, you were actually crafting pieces for the bakery. Specifically, vases of various shapes and designs intended to grace the center of the individual tables that Yu had sanded and stained himself. 

Day after day when Kento was at work and when Ulani was down for her nap, you were hunched over in the studio, wet hands molding against clay as it spun on your pottery wheel. 

You finished your last vase earlier that evening. But you were so exhausted and achy that even though you craved Kento’s touch and the feeling of him inside you, you settled for the soft and practiced movement of his lips and tongue between your legs instead. Letting him coax you in only the way he knew until you were arching into the sheets and moaning your orgasm into the night air of your bedroom.

His thumb smoothed along the sunken skin beneath your eyes, frowning at the sight. 

“You’ve been so tired. Do you need me to cut back on my hours? Extend my lunch too so I’m home more?” 

You snorted, burrowing deeper beneath your duvet and closer to him. He pulled you in without thought, wrapping muscular arms around your waist before yanking into him so that your lips brushed along the skin of his clavicle. You melted further into the warm woodsy scent of him, savoring the lingering hints of eucalyptus that clung to him from his shampoo.

“I’ve just had more commissions lately. I’m okay.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but you still felt bad when he frowned deeper in response, the corners of his lips down turning, narrow eyes intensifying in worry. “Do not take on so much.”

“Yea yea old man,” you sighed against the pillow on your cheek, closing your eyes slowly. 

You could feel his gaze on you even though you couldn’t see him, and you forced your lips together to avoid laughing as the eye not pressed into your pillow cracked open to look at him.

Burnt umber eyes glared at you, jerking a sharp chuckle from deep within your belly that pierced through the thin veil between your lips. 

Watching him fuss had been one of the many things you found yourself craving as your relationship with each other grew. You loved to tease him. Despite Kento’s typically stoic and serious demeanor, there were moments when his seriousness seemed out of place. And the fact that most of the time he was unaware of it, made it all the more humorous to you. 

So, you rolled with it every time and he voiced his fake irritation because it made you smile and laugh.

“Stop laughing,” he grumbled.

Right on cue. 

And like he expected, it made you laugh harder, deep chuckles morphing into giggles when large hands squeezed your waist in reproach, a sensation that only made you wheeze against him. 

The frown on his face twitched, threatening to curl into a smile, responding to the soft giggles that wafted onto his skin as he wiggled nimble fingers against you.

***

It was late February when everything finally came together. 

Twelve batches of sweet bread all either too sweet or missing a secret ingredient that you could never figure out. Gojo could only offer so much. While he didn’t know the exact ingredient that was missing, he could still determine if it ever tasted like Yu’s.

But it was the thirteenth batch that finally stuck.

You were used to drizzling the honey atop the bread when it was fresh out of the oven. But on a whim, you decided to add a tablespoon and halve the serving of vanilla to the yeast mixture instead. 

You were exhausted, swallowing frustration week after week for the sake of doing this for him. Because you wanted to bring this small piece of Yu back to him. Wanted to watch his eyes be a little less dim on his bad days. 

After all, doesn’t every baker need a prized recipe?

You didn’t think much else of it. You were already content with the somber thought that batch number fourteen would be better.

At first, you thought it was a trick of the light against Gojo’s handsome face when he chewed a piece of batch thirteen. His cerulean irises glimmered with a familiarity that made him pause, made him pull back the uneaten half between his fingers to look as if it had spoken a secret to him.

And then, with each movement of his jaw, as he ate the entire batch in front of you, you realized that you just might have gotten it right.

And it was Gojo sliding his hands across your kitchen island to clasp around yours. It was sticky fingers tapping along your brown skin and pearly whites shining brightly at you when you knew for sure that your efforts had finally paid off. 

“Tastes like you got it.”

You were so excited that you could hardly contain yourself, whipping up another batch with your remaining dough, uncaring of the chatterbox of a man sitting at your island as he began to pry questions about Ome from you, inhaling the rest of batch thirteen.

You were too happy. Too proud of yourself and riding on a high when an hour later you were knocking on Kaya’s door and silently offering the batch of sweet bread to her.

You had been at her house a few times since Christmas. Happy to know that the plants were alive and well and that she was coping as best as she could. Even though she had lost the love of her life, she pushed forward for Aiko, who held resilience in the face of despair that must have come from her father.

So, when she sniffed softly as you both sat in her kitchen, small sounds becoming more insistent and congested, you knew for sure that you perfected a recipe that only Yu knew. So, she became the second person you told your plans to, and her hazel eyes filled with tears as she listened, her smile stretched across round cheeks before she yanked you into a tight hug.

“I’ll bring the plants by tomorrow.” You were rubbing her back in soothing circular motions when she muttered the words over your shoulder. You felt faint echoes of her grief vibrating against you, but the resonances weren’t as strong as before. They weren’t as crippling. Not as suffocating as that first day she had broken down in the waiting room almost a year ago. 

You could smell the scent of strawberries from her shampoo flutter beneath your nose as her hair brushed against your cheek. You could feel the shoulder of your shirt becoming damp from what was no doubt her tears against you.

“Kento will be so happy. Yu…Yu would be so happy. Thank you—you have no idea how much this means to me.”

And even though you were exhausted beyond belief. Even though your hands were dry and painful and cracking from throwing and not moisturizing correctly. Even though you had done more renovations than you could stomach for probably a long time. Feeling Kaya squeezing you tighter, seeping happiness through your clothes and into the pores of your skin made your heart swell. 

***

A cold Saturday evening in March is when you set your plans in motion. 

The air brushed against your cheeks, sharp and biting and drying your skin, but you couldn’t use your hands to shield your cheeks. Because those hands were occupied, holding both of Kento’s as you guided his blindfolded form inside the bakery. He was under the impression that you were both on your way to have dinner with friends. So, he was more than surprised when you decided to drive and forced a piece of cloth over his eyes.

You ignored every single protest that he muttered to you, pulling him to stand in the center of the lit room. 

For once, the air hadn’t been cold and reeking of painful traces of its past. Instead, cinnamon colored the air faintly, drifting around you both as you steeled your nerves, squared your shoulders and took a silent breath in front of his oblivious figure. 

“Okay. You can take it off.”

He did so immediately, brows furrowed in light irritation and worry before the expression fell from his face just as fast. 

The beige walls were a good choice, and the maroon accent on the wall behind the register created a warm aura that you were sure would make customers feel more comfortable and willing to stay.

You left the countertops untouched but meticulously restored the shine to the cabinets and replaced the metal accents along the sides of the display case below the register. The floor was redone—an act that you had no choice but to hire help for—and shining beneath your feet. The certificates of achievements and cherished photographs of families, employees, and friends no longer resided in their old frames, having been replaced with brand new ones that added a touch of freshness to the walls they hung on. 

The painstakingly crafted vases, which had taken you weeks to throw, fire, and glaze, had become the focal points of each table, radiating with an assortment of vibrant colors and intricate designs made by your hand. And in each vase laid the plants that Kaya brought back. 

Those same Peperomias and Hoya Carnosas had their bases wrapped in your ceramic art, the long philodendrons that were previously adorning the walls of Yu’s house had been returned to their original home between the crevices between cabinets and displayed in knitted holders suspending from the ceiling. Yu’s prized fiddle leaf had flourished despite his time away, its large, lush green leaves reaching out from its dedicated spot in the corner of the bakery, basking in the gentle March low lights that streamed through the nearby glass windows. 

You were proud. It was an indescribable satisfaction, knowing that every detail had been attended to with an unwavering dedication and care. 

You only hoped Kento would think the same.

Because the man in question was still silent and stone-faced from his perch, Chukka boots rooted to the floor, gelled and parted hair exposing deep brown eyes incredulous and unblinking as he looked around. 

You tried to quell the nerves zapping to life in your body, synapses firing chaotically, causing your fingers to twitch against your thighs, an uneasy silence lingering between the two of you.

“Well…say something,” your words trembled on the ends with an uneasy chuckle, tumultuous waves of anxiety roaring to life inside of you.

“I…” his voice trailed off, his gaze swept across the once missed vibrant plants around him, the upgraded display case, and the freshly painted walls. His heart thumped against his chest, like a bird yearning to be set free, as shock and astonishment surged through his veins, sending a chill down his spine. The weight of your gaze bore down on him, your increasing apprehension palpable as he struggled to find his words. He knew you deserved his undivided attention. 

Surprised or not. 

Overwhelmed or not.

“Is…is that new paint?” He mentally kicked himself, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at his own obliviousness while stating the obvious.

But you smiled bashfully at him instead, eager to do whatever it took to reassure him and help him regain his composure. “It is. I painted it. Well…my mother and I did.” You frowned briefly, your eyebrows twitching with the urge to furrow at the mention of her. She didn’t need to occupy your thoughts at that moment. Not now. 

His eyes shifted down, fixating on the tile beneath his feet. The once familiar, plain linoleum that he had grown accustomed to over the years had not been replaced. The new floor was now made of a creamy-toned linoleum designed to mimic tiles.

“New flooring?” he asked, his voice stronger even though it wavered.

“That one I had to hire help for,” you excitedly told him, maintaining a safe distance, standing a few paces ahead to allow him time to take in his surroundings. “But I picked out the color and style and I even got to rip out a few chunks. I took a bunch of pictures.”

He couldn’t help the huff that puffed from his nose, a small noise of a laugh as his mind continued to struggle to keep up. You watched as he attempted to speak, lips forming words that his throat stubbornly refused to release. 

Sensing his need for guidance, you closed the distance between you, reaching out to slide a hand into one of his larger ones and squeezing gently. He didn’t try to speak again, realized that he couldn’t, but the way his eyes caught yours and held your gaze briefly assured you at that moment that he was here, and he was listening, he just needed you to pilot him in that way only you could do with ease.

So, you did.

You brought a few vases for him to hold and trace his fingers against, animatedly explaining the firing techniques you chose for each one. You pulled him to the kitchen, proudly presenting the recently polished equipment that bore freshly stamped inspection approvals. The pots and pans, put away to avoid dust not even a day after Yu’s death, now hung gleaming and ready to be used from the pot rack above cool concrete countertops. The stainless steel ovens were ready to be turned on, the large refrigerator ready to be filled with chilled dough and meat for savory buns.

With brush of your fingers against him, his skin tingled; overwhelming and strong, forcing currents of electricity along his dermis. His chest tightened with each step you led him away from the kitchen, walking in the direction of Yu’s office.

Faint memories were suddenly rich in his mind when he stepped into the small room. Vivid flashbacks of Yu’s slouched figure, head resting on a hand as he gazed out the only large window in the room. 

That familiar nerve plan, known to dramatically droop the minute it was off its watering schedule, sat once again on the windowsill. However, alongside it stood a new addition—a simple cactus, with curved and drooping spiky branches.

You spoke up as you watched his eyes take in the unfamiliar plant. “Ulani reached for it when I went to the nursery with Ome last week. I figured you would be happy knowing she picked it out for you.”

He didn’t speak, he still couldn’t.

Instead, he allowed his legs to guide him around the oak desk, which had been cleared of its usual clutter of paper and books. For the first time since Yu had bought this bakery, the stained surface was visible to him, and he reached out to run his hand along it, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips. 

But his eyes stopped, freezing at the three small picture frames that sat on the corner of his desk. Picture frames that hadn’t been there before.

The first was of you both. You were in the corner of the photo and holding the camera at an angle to take a selfie, your smile bright as the sun, those familiar glints of mischief coloring your eyes. And he’s behind you, sprawled out on the couch with his legs spread and arms resting along the back of the sofa, head tilted back and mouth slightly parted as he was—despite how much he vehemently denied—snoring. 

It was so mundane, so informal, and not like him to have a photo like this out in the open. But it was so you. And the smile that curved faintly along the edges of his mouth as he took in the photo was more than enough for you to slink closer to him.

The second frame is of you and Ulani. She sat in your lap, her blue onesie covered in drool, light brown curls thick and messy, her gummy mouth smiling and showing the beginnings of a front tooth. Her hands were reaching for her father, who stood behind the camera. Vividly he recalled the playful antics he needed to elicit her infectious laughter for the perfect shot. Kento traced his fingertips along the edges of the frame, his smile pulling a little tighter on his face.

But it was the last photo that made his throat catch because he remembered it like it was yesterday. He and Yu were standing in front of the bakery, and he recalled how excited Yu was when he signed the lease, dragging Kento to stand in front of the empty building with Kaya ready with her camera. 

They were younger, Kento a little less bulky, Yu with a little more hair on his head than what you usually used to see from him. Yu’s arm was draped around Kento’s neck, both hands throwing peace signs, his smile just as bright and lively. 

“Why must I be in the picture if I don’t even own the bakery?”

“You will someday!”

“No.”

“Yes! Now are you going to smile for me? Or are you going to frown like the old man you refuse to admit you are?”

“I am not an old man.”

“You are!”

“Yu—”

“Smile!”

Those words reverberated in his mind, echoing ceaselessly as he gazed at his younger self frozen in the photograph. Because even though his posture was stiff, and his arms were folded over his chest. And even though the blue shirt and brown slacks were a little too big on him and his yellow and black spotted tie and glasses made him look old just like Yu had teased…he was smiling. 

Close-lipped and weak, but he was smiling.

Before he could fully be washed over with the overwhelming surge of emotions that boiled in the core of his stomach, you gently tugged him away, leading him out of the office and through the kitchen. The cinnamon-tinged air enveloped you both again as you entered the front of the bakery. 

Kento blinked away the blurriness in his eyes, and tried hard to focus on soft, billowing curls that peeked out from under your wool beanie.

He knew he needed to say something to you. 

He had to say something to you.

But once again you held him still and commanded him to close his eyes again. And when he complied, the sensation of his eyes closing softly, he sagged against the wooden counter behind him. His heart continued to race uncontrollably, refusing to calm down. Despite the deafening ringing in his ears and the tight, parched feeling in his throat, he found himself still standing. 

When he was told to open his eyes again, he found you holding what looked to be one of the chalkboard slabs that would hang on the wall behind the counter.

“A bakery wouldn’t be complete without a menu,” you declared with a grin, turning the chalkboard slab around for him to see. You soaked up every expression from him as he scanned the list.

Melon Pan, Anpan, Yakisoba Pan, and even Shu Kurimu; each item was meticulously written in delicate calligraphy. 

You cherished the moments you spent together that inspired the menu, with him patiently guiding you through the art of kneading, braiding, and perfecting other techniques during Ulani’s naptime. With every recipe, he absentmindedly spoke about which ones he would like to add to his menu.

And you had soaked it up like a sponge. 

The prices next to each food item were modest, and as he read line by line, item after item, the irresistible emotion to scoop you up into his arms became more palpable.

But when he got to the bottom, he froze. 

Because at the bottom of the menu, written in chalk and clear as day, was something that didn’t make sense to him but demanded his attention, nonetheless.

Yu’s Famous Sweet Bread: Daily Special

He shook his head, mind faltering and struggling to put the pieces together because those words shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t have written that. He couldn’t make Yu’s sweet bread because he never got the recipe. And he wouldn’t fabricate his own iteration and tarnish his best friend’s memory. 

Flickers of irritation flared inside of him, completely unnecessary and unwarranted, waves of embarrassment bubbling in his stomach from the thought of being upset with you. But with tremendous effort, he managed to swallow it down. 

The sight was enough to make you lean over the edge of the counter, reaching for the Tupperware hidden beneath.

For weeks, it had been Gojo who would eagerly tear open the top and devour every batch that didn’t quite meet the mark. But now, it was Kento who stood there, staring at the Tupperware, blinking as you tore off the top and gestured the container towards him, his hands curling hesitantly around the edges of the plastic.

The aroma was heavenly, still steaming and flaky and he couldn’t help but reach inside and pull out a piece. He faltered, uncertainty clouding his face, unease bubbling in his gut, before finally taking a bit.

The flavors exploded on his tongue—buttery, not overly sweet, with hints of honey and cinnamon, just like he remembered. Just like how Yu used to make. A treasured recipe, perfected and replicated as if Yu had somehow manifested and made a batch just for him.

And suddenly his chest pulled tight once again, his throat constricted, and his heart hammered against his ribcage. He wasn’t upset, not even close. The unease that simmered in his belly fizzled away, died town as swirling waves of nostalgia took its place. 

It was too much. He couldn’t—

“It took me a few weeks. But Gojo was a good test subject.” You chuckled, wringing your hands around a clump of your curls in faint motions of anxiousness as you offered him a gentle smile. “I figured the man who only ingests sweets would be able to tell me if what I made tasted like Yu’s. And Kaya was a good final judge. It was a hunch, but it worked.” 

Nervously, you fidgeted, releasing your hands from the ends of your hair and burying them deep into the cozy embrace of your thick wool coat. You tried to convince yourself that his dumbfounded expression was a good thing. 

“I hope—was I wrong? I wanted the recipe to be perfect before I cooked some for you.”

You were fumbling and restless, finally taking the brunt of his lack of response and letting it fester within you. Maybe you had gone too far, overwhelmed him, and made him angry.

You shouldn’t have done this. You should have pulled back, and let him do things at his own pace.

While you were slowly beginning to despair from your spot in front of him, Kento was trying his best to move. To speak. To do something. 

Nothing could have prepared him for something like this. If someone were to tell him that all of this would be possible again, he would have turned around without another word and walked the other way. 

But it was possible. 

Here in the form of a bakery that had been brought back to life with newly painted walls, long-missed plants, a handcrafted menu, and a special recipe that he thought would have died along with the best friend who made it.

And you had done it all. Alone and without an ounce of assistance. And he had no idea. 

You had taken his dreams and shaped them into a reality.

Just like he did with you.

And for the first time, since he walked into the bakery, blindfolded and unaware, he finally moved of his own volition.

He set the container of sweet bread on the counter behind you and pulled you into a kiss so blinding, so searing, so overpowering that you were caught in between breaths, your lungs aching to stretch.

It was the only thing he could think to do. The only way he could try to say thank you for being the one constant in his life that had brought him nothing but consuming happiness when he believed he would only see and feel pain and grief. 

His touch was fervent against you, his hands cradling your cheeks, gliding along your neck, tilting your head up, up sharply so he could fall into you. And you reciprocated and caught him with the way your arms wrapped around him and the way your fingers tangled through the growing undercut at the nape of his neck.

The feel of wetness on your cheeks made you pull away from him, your hands descending from his hair to cup his cheeks, thumbing away faint traces of tears as he breathed shakily against you. He couldn’t stop them and didn’t shy away as you wiped them away as quickly as they fell. 

You were that beacon of light that he always looked for when he couldn’t seem to hold himself together. Even though he could barely open his mouth to express his gratitude, you still illuminated with unwavering brightness, seamlessly intertwining your fingers with his, guiding him forward without hesitation. 

You let out a gentle hum, feeling the remnants of familiar teasing tones vibrating along the skin of your lips. “I didn’t bring any tissues. Gojo won’t let you live this down if he sees your cheeks tear-stained,” you playfully remarked.

A harsh and wet chuckle bubbled from the middle of his chest, erupting from his throat as he sniffed pathetically and shot you an unheated glower.

“Stop teasing.”

A remark that might have seemed out of place to others but fit you both perfectly. Two words that he always murmured against your skin or playfully glared at you when you purposefully made him uncomfortable. It was something he loved, took pleasure in, and couldn’t imagine sharing those little mundane exchanges with anyone else.

“I love you,” he spoke softly, his words carrying an unwavering conviction and strength. 

You echoed the sentiment back just as strongly, your fingertips gliding along his sharp cheekbones, tracing down the slight upturned angle of his nose. 

The silence of the bakery was for once not as imposing as you rubbed your hands down his back, and Kento melted into your touch, his arms wrapping around your waist and drawing you closer. The scent and feel of you, unyielding and powerful against him, was still something he struggled to grasp—was only for him. 

He had his own plans for tonight. Had expected things to go a lot differently after dinner. Had worked through it in his mind over and over.

But as always, you had plans of your own. And, without complaint, he relinquished control and let you guide him.

“While I love you very much, Ken, we’re gonna be late for dinner if you don’t let go.” 

Those words, colored with a touch of humor, drifted into his ears and elicited another gentle chuckle from his chest before he pulled back and pressed his lips against yours. You were content to let him have just one more minute before pulling him out the door when—

“Oh!” you exclaimed, withdrawing from his lips abruptly. A surge of excitement coursed through your veins as you ignored his surprised expression, dark blonde eyebrows twitching with the urge to pout at being pulled from you too soon. Your hand instinctively dove into your coat pocket, retrieving your phone with nimble fingers. You eagerly sifted through emails until your eyes finally landed on what you had been searching for, flipping the phone around and pressing it to his chest. He gingerly took it from you, glancing over the contents and trying his best to ignore the sharp return of thumping in his chest.

“It’s just a drafted advertisement that I made with Jin,” you spoke proudly, fiddling with the lapels of his own dark brown wool trench coat. “I was able to organize a meeting with all of Yu’s previous employees, and they’ve all agreed to return whenever you decide to reopen.”

As you rambled on, your gaze remained fixated on the exquisite fabric of his coat—a gift from her mother—as you grounded yourself with its presence.

Kento was once again floored, his eyes tracing every detail that oozed your touch from your years of marketing experience. It was an ad that could be posted on social media, featuring a picture of the bakery and a short explanation of its upcoming reopening. 

To you, it was simple, quick to do, and without effort for many others. 

But to him, it was another token of your love freely given.

“The assistant manager even agreed to take over all morning shifts if you are still working at the company whenever it opens. We can do a ribbon cutting if you want! Or maybe a soft opening. I didn’t put a date for when it would open, but I was thinking after Ulani’s first birthday we could—”

“My love,” his voice cut you off, firm and tender. The hand not holding your phone cupped your cheek, guiding your gaze up to meet his. His naturally narrow eyes radiated affection, drawing you in with their burnt-umber warmth. “You’re rambling.”

Your voice caught in your throat, excitement and anxiety coiling and thrumming in equal rhythm. “I know,” you whispered. “I wanted to give you the option to submit it. It goes straight to Jin and he’ll have the company’s social media manager distribute it.” 

Your eyes flickered down to your phone in his hands, drawing Kento’s gaze back to the perfectly crafted advertisement on the screen, a bright green button labeled ‘SUBMIT’ catching his attention.

If you hadn’t gone above and beyond to turn the bakery into something Kento could call his own, he might have continued to stall for as long as possible. He would have lingered to order paint for the walls and waited until the last minute to redo the floors. Because even with his firm resolution when weeks ago he said to you that he was ready, a tinge of fear still lingered within him.

But seeing how much effort and support you had offered, showing him time and time again that he was ready, that you would be there to catch him if he ever fell, made him realize that he could face that fear with you by his side. And you were always by his side. 

Unquestionably. 

Unwaveringly.

In just a second, he pressed ‘submit’, a profound sense of accomplishment filling his chest, a feeling that never would have manifested if it weren’t for you. 

He gently placed the phone back into your coat pocket, his other hand cupping your exposed cheek. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, heating the blood beneath and lighting an inferno behind your eyes, the heat licking against them to coax a prickle of tears to bubble at the bottom of your lashes.

“Did you submit it?” you whispered, the heat of his breath caressing your lips.

“I did.”

“I’m glad.”

It was a familiar exchange between the two of you, reminiscent of the last time you had walked into the bakery after rushing from Rory’s studio with Ulani strapped to your chest. Back then, he had been somber, searching for answers from Yu’s spirit that still lingered within the walls. 

But now. Now as you responded, a sense of satisfaction flowed through you, knowing that he had his answer and could show Yu, in some way—if he was even watching—that his efforts had not been in vain.

“The fact that you did all of this for me…words cannot express how grateful I am for this. For you,” he uttered, his words washing over you effortlessly, brimming with adoration that only you would ever truly understand. You smiled up at him, wordlessly expressing your own gratitude and contentment that he was happy.

“You can show me how grateful you are. How about,” you began, enveloping your arms around his neck. You playfully tugged at the tip of one of his ears as his eyes traced over the features of your face, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “After dinner, you take on all responsibilities with Ulani tonight, draw me a bath, and then later…” you trailed off, a playful purr dancing in your words as your fingers traced a featherlight touch along his ear, watching with barely contained glee as he shuddered. “Later after we know Ulani is asleep…you do that thing I like.”

That thing in question was something that he only used for rare occasions, and the flickering memories of it had him blushing quickly and his hands sliding down to wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. 

You couldn’t help the laugh that shook from your chest as he leaned down to place a wet kiss on your cheek once and then twice on the other side, before drawing back, your lips only a few centimeters apart and that recognizable faint smile on his face.

“Deal,” he whispered, slanting slightly chapped lips against yours, dragging you impossibly closer until there was no space between you both. 

Distantly, you remembered your reservations that you both would definitely be late for. 

And even though you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket with a text probably from Ome asking where you both were, the feel of his tongue sliding along your bottom lip in his well-known request for entrance made you ignore the second buzz that rattled your coat pocket.

Your friends could wait a few more minutes.