#i can’t sleep at night i can only think of them

[chuulyssa]

── ★ the one bed trope™ with the squid game men

teaser the guards cleared out too many beds after the last game, assuming there are far fewer survivors than expected. so when your group stumbles into the dormitory, you realize the horrible truth: there’s only one bed for every two players, and your bed is missing!

starring inho gihun (drabbles) & daeho sangwoo ali (hcs) x gn!reader genre fluff fluff all fluff, some nightmares, some crack

a/n wasnt gonna watch s2 but then i saw the lee byunghyun edits and sjsjs theres only few chars here because i havent watched the whole season :( i dont think ill be watching the whole thing any time soon, jus waiting for s3 to drop before watching it all together

inho / youngil / the frontman / 001

youngil stared at the guards while you stared at the bed in front of you. it looked stiff and scratchy, and barely wide enough for one person, let alone two.

“we can share. i don’t mind,” he had said to you, though he had looked tense as well. he sat on the bed, allowing you to scoot over. he laid as close to the edge of the cot as possible.

“oh, it won’t be necessary.”

“well, what other choice do you have?”

you sighed and nodded, awkwardly laying down next to him on the bed. as your shoulders touched each other, he relaxed visibly, though he was still lying on the edge, and that scared you a little.

“stop lying on the edge like that. you’ll fall off,” you warned.

“i’m fine,” he mumbled, staring right up at the ceiling. you kept looking at him, not minding the three times he had glanced your way pointedly at all. “don’t stare.”

“hm, why not?”

“it makes me feel strange,” he said simply.

you nodded, your hands instinctively reaching to your arms to shield yourself from the cold. there was only one blanket with only one bed after all. next thing you knew, you felt the blanket being nudged towards you by youngil’s foot.

“i saw that; it’s not very subtle, you know.”

“what’s not very subtle?” he asked innocently. then he shifted his body closer to yours. “it’s not because of you, okay?” he muttered quietly. “i just didn’t feel like falling off.”

“are you asking for cuddles now?” you snickered.

“no,” he replied gruffly, though his eyes softened slightly at the sound of your silent laughter.

“nuh uh, i think you’re cold as well,” you lifted the blanket up to accommodate him as well. you then glanced at him expectantly. he hesitated for a moment before slipping under the blanket, taking the moment to tightly grasp your hand. you smiled, resting your head above his shoulder on the shared pillow.

you woke up in the middle of the night to find him softly murmuring your name in his sleep. he looked peaceful, beautifully so. you brushed your hand on his chest to wrap it around him, and felt him waking up as well.

“hush, go back to sleep,” you whispered to him, and he raised an eyebrow at nothing in particular. his eyes were still closed. then he let out a tiny giggle and tightened his grip on your hands.

the guards executed this one perfectly, right as per orders from the frontman; hwang inho will make sure to reward them later, but for now he’d rather stay in this shared bed with you by his side.

seong gihun / 456

“i guess it can’t be helped then,” gihun said simply, sitting you down on his bed and pulling the covers over you. “sorry if i snore by the way.”

“what do you mean? where will you be sleeping?”

“on the floor, of course.”

“no, you’re not,” you shook your head, patting the empty space beside you. “i still have some place left here for someone.”

“oh, then let me find someone who can’t find a partn—”

you pulled the man down onto the bed, his face crashing against the pillow. throwing the covers over him as well, you turned to face him, muttering, “you really aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“no, uhm, what if i hog the blanket? that would be unpleasant—”

“i can live with that.”

gihun blinked rapidly. “i don’t think i should be sleeping. what if someone attacks?”

“relax, they’re keeping watch.”

“i think i should keep watch with them,” gihun gulped at your proximity.

“well, i don’t. and you need sleep; have you seen yourself?” you laughed.

gihun beamed at the sound. “then how about I tell you a story?”

“a story?”

“yeah, to make you happy.”

“why though?” you said tiredly.

“to make you laugh. i like seeing you laugh,” he said genuinely, and you nodded in response. his eyes lit up and he began, “so there was this one cow, and it had a baby cat—”

…

“gihun?”

he snored.

“gihun!”

he snored again.

did he really fall asleep mid-sentence? you sighed, shaking your head before snuggling up to him. he unconsciously draped an arm over you in his sleep.

throughout the night, he kept tossing and turning, before—

smack !

you clutched your face where gihun’s hand had just made contact. before letting out the loud cuss you wanted to, you peeked over to see if he was asleep. and sure enough, if the snores hadn’t let it be known earlier, then the closed eyes did.

“this dumbass,” you muttered, nuzzling your face into his side.

but what could you do either way? if you complained, he’d be mortified and force you to switch places, and you’d lose a chance to cuddle with him. so you instead figured the occasional smacking would be worth being the first person to see his hair sticking out in every direction with his sheepish grin in the morning.

a/n: i’ve only got hcs for the others; sorry guys i prefer my old men inho and gihun :P

daeho / 388

he insists on taking the less comfortable side of the bed

even if that meant he barely has any space MY GNELTMAN

at some point his hand will brush yours (because its an ff duh) and he’ll get all startled like :O

but he won’t move away because he decides he likes it

we all know the trauma this man carries :( so don’t be surprised when his grip on your hand loosens in the middle of the night and his face scrunches up because he’s having a nightmare

just please cuddle with him :(( he’ll try to play it off like it’s nothing but know better!

when you quietly offer comfort, his defenses will crumble, and he’ll whisper a quiet thank you to you

in the morning he’ll wake up before you and realize just how close the two of you are.

he’s been bearhugging you in his sleep and you’re reciprocating it? hes so confused like ??????? do you wanna get choked or sum yes you do

he’ll just quietly stare at you as if he’s in a daze. he’s got that lovesick smile and all, just silently looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen you are

he just as silently fixes the blanket on you because he wants to offer as much comfort as you did last night to him

then he’ll gently apologize to you for disturbing you, smiling to himself when you grumble in your sleep

sangwoo / 218

this little shit

he’ll pretend not to care about you or about the bed or about the entire situation at all

but you can see how he tries to be as subtle as possible when adjusting the pillow under your head to make sure you’re comfortable

you’re practically begging him to accept his feelings atp but this man is a menace

as soon as he saw the one bed he started calculating how much space you’ll take and how much he’ll get

if you shift closer in your sleep he’ll freeze for a moment but he won’t pull away

if you move a lot in your sleep he won’t say anything just yet

but expect to be bombarded with complaints when you wake up in the morning

he watches you out of the corner of his eye, something he describes as “just trying to protect you” by “keeping watch” but you know he’s just dazzled by your beauty who isnt

he’ll lie awake for a while staring up at that huge piggy bank that his future lies in, and he knows he can’t love you like he wants to, but he hopes that just this once his brain will accept what his heart feels

when the sunlight hits his face in the morning, he’ll look so peaceful that it makes even ali question his mood

all the while gihun is just staring in horror at sangwoo like he got some puss

ali / 199

THE POOKIEST POOKIE

he’s so shy UGH i jus wanna gobble him up sjsjsjkgnskjn

but he can’t help smiling softly when he realizes how comfortable you seem to be around him

he’ll offer to sleep on the cold hard floor and insists you take the blanket for yourself, but duh you don’t allow that

so with a grin on his face he lies down next to you

he asks you if you need more space at least 10 times, he’s that nervous

the blanket stays on you though, he can’t risk you feeling cold or uncomfy because of him GNELTMENANN

he’ll stay awake if you want someone to talk to, or to make sure you’re warm enough, or even just to admire you

but if you don’t want that, he’ll pull an aurora and fall asleep so quickly you don’t even realize it

his hand stays brushing against yours under the blanket though, and you feel so warm and fuzzy next to him

he’s a snuggler, so there’ll be times where he’ll shift very close to you in his sleep, not realizing the hand he’s keeping on your waist or the head he’s resting on your chest

someone points it out in the morning and he’s so flustered he apologizes profusely even though you keep telling him you didn’t mind it all

definitely says something like “i slept with you, remember?” because he doesn’t realize it’s an innuendo

© chuulyssa 2025 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[manmuncher777]

PASSED AROUND

- when the reader gets passed between Toji and Shiu like a blunt. After all how are they going to thank her for looking after them so well?

- 18+ SMUT, threesome, oral f+m recieving, unprotected sex, spanking, pet names. The tension in this is yummy. THIS ART HAS ME FERAL

a/m - Hi my loves, I worked super hard on this and would really appreciate if you could show some love!!!!! Reblogs, likes and comments are so welcome. I hope you enjoy. p.s MY REQUESTS FORJJK/AOT ARE OPEN <<33333

Three knocks on the door, a sound that has become so familiar to you. Most would be startled to be getting visitors at this sort of time, but you knew every time who it was going to be. You’re lying on the sofa scrolling on your phone, sighing gently as you get up

You glance over at the clock. It’s just past midnight, and the silence of your apartment feels almost deafening. You’re already stretched out on the couch, half-watching the flickering screen of an old movie when you hear it. The knock. The familiar sound that tells you everything you need to know.

Another round of favors, you think with a sigh. You don’t mind, of course. You owe them both, but more importantly, their company has become something you’ve grown… accustomed to.

You don’t bother with much—just a quick glance in the mirror to make sure you don’t look like you’ve rolled out of bed, though you kind of have. You’re wearing your usual sleep shorts, barely covering the top of your thighs, and a baggy t-shirt that hangs loosely off your shoulders. It’s comfortable, and you know it’s exactly what they’ve come to expect.

With a soft groan, you push yourself off the couch and make your way to the door, not rushing. No need to hurry. You swing it open without hesitation.

Toji stands there first, tall and imposing as usual. His eyes are cold, almost too unreadable, but the faintest glimmer of amusement lurks beneath. His gaze sweeps over you like he’s cataloging every detail, his lips curling into a half-smile that speaks volumes. All of a sudden, you were more conscious of how you were dressed as he glanced over you.

Shiu stands just behind him, his posture slightly more relaxed but no less commanding. His eyes are trained on you, intense, sharp, but with a subtle warmth that flickers beneath the cool exterior. You can already tell his attention is on you—his focus unwavering.

“Late night?” Toji’s voice is rough, casual, as if he hasn’t just barged into your life with that smirk of his.

You lean against the doorframe, keeping your arms crossed, the corner of your lips curling up in a smile. “You two really know how to pick your timing.” You glance at the clock over your shoulder. “Another job gone south?”

“Toji’s always getting himself into trouble,” Shiu drawls, his eyes narrowing with a glint of amusement. He takes a step closer, his eyes flicking over your outfit, lingering a little too long on the way your shirt clings to your body.

You arch an eyebrow, not missing the subtle shift in his gaze. “What, no ‘thank you’ this time for saving your asses?” you tease, though there’s a slight edge to your tone.

Toji grins, a dark, knowing look in his eyes. “Maybe we’re just here for the company this time.” His gaze slides over you once more, and there’s a lingering heat that makes your breath hitch. “And for the treatment, of course. We wouldn’t want you to think we only come around when we’re hurt.”

You can’t help the slight smirk that tugs at your lips. “Of course not. You two have been here enough times, I’m starting to think you have a permanent spot in my fridge.”

Shiu chuckles lowly, glancing over at Toji. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know we have our place here. I think we’re entitled to that fridge space by now.” His voice is smooth, almost possessive, as if he’s been here a hundred times before. And, well… maybe he has.

“Got a spot just for your beers, huh?” you reply, sarcasm laced with the faintest hint of something else, something more charged that you can’t quite put your finger on.

This whole thing started a while ago. You needed some help feeling with some unsavoury people, just the business the men were well versed in. You went to them seeking out their assistance, and of course they obliged when you told them you didn’t care how much.

And at first, thats all it was, business. But when you were discussing… business with both the men, you let slip you’re a nurse, a healer. Luckily for Toji and Shiu, they were in need of a new one.

So they offered you a deal, a discounted price for your services.

So each time after a mission, they would come to you, get patched up and be on their way.

At least thats how it started, business, then acquaintances, their 1 hour patch ups turning into hour long nights spent with chatter as you sipped on a beer, then movies and drinks when they needed to unwind

Then it formed into this, some kind of friendship. You now kept mens shower gel in your bathroom for the first time incase they were staying, you had a few small items of spare clothes they keep at yours, even a toothbrush each. Some nights they just needed to lay low, and you had a spare mattress and a pull out bed. It suited you. It actually was nice for your apartment not to feel so lonely. Sometimes you found yourself making extra serving of your dinner, anticipating the hungry mens arrival.

Toji steps forward, pushing the door open wider without a word, his large frame blocking the hallway as he moves past you, his shoulder brushing against yours in a way that’s deliberate, yet casual. You try to ignore the way the contact makes your skin heat up. You tried to ignore hoe his muscles looked in that black shirt. You tried to ignore how he towered over you. You tried to ignore how the cuts on his face and knuckles made him looks so sexy.

Shiu follows behind, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. He walks with a quiet, steady confidence that makes it clear this is his territory too. You tried to ignore the way his suit clung to his board back. You tried to ignore the way he looked so good with that toothpick in his mouth. You tried to ignore how intoxicating you found that aftershave he wears is, loving when it lingers in your apartment after they leave. The apartment’s small and cozy, the kind of place they’ve come to know better than some of their own living spaces. Shiu makes a beeline for the fridge without a second thought, pulling it open and reaching for the beer—his beer.

“Toji’s right,” Shiu says, his voice smooth and steady, though there’s an undercurrent of something darker there. “You’re getting comfortable with us. We might start expecting dinner, too.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fed you both,” you respond dryly, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against the counter. Your eyes flick over to Toji, who’s now making himself at home on your couch, his long legs stretched out lazily. The way he sprawls on the furniture makes it clear that this isn’t just a place for occasional medical attention—it’s theirs now.

You watch Shiu twist the cap off a bottle, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he takes a swig. “We’ve gotten used to it.” His voice lowers slightly, the words heavier than before. “Used to you, too.”

The air in the room shifts as Toji turns his head slightly, glancing at you with that familiar, dangerous smirk. “Yeah. We like it here. So, you think you can patch us up, or are we just gonna relax tonight?” He shrugs, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s not just talking about bandages.

Shiu takes another long sip from his bottle, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’ve been a good little host to us. We’ll return the favor one of these days.” His words are laced with something that makes your pulse quicken, a promise that’s too heavy to ignore. You were convinced they both knew what they were doing, blurring lines. A small blushed danced over your cheeks as the men shared smirks.

You swallow, suddenly aware of the thick tension in the room. You should be getting to work, tending to their injuries—but instead, your body betrays you, heat pooling low in your stomach at the way they both watch you. You can feel the pull between you all, the simmering chemistry that’s only getting harder to deny.

You clear your throat, trying to sound unaffected. “You two are going to get too comfortable if I don’t set some boundaries.”

Shiu leans in, placing his beer down on the counter, his gaze intent on you as his lips curl into a slow smile. “Maybe we already have.”

Toji smirks, leaning back on the couch, his eyes scanning you lazily. “Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it. We both know you’re not here for just the drinks, either.”

The air feels heavier now, thicker, the unspoken words hanging between you like a taut wire waiting to snap. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep pretending like nothing’s happening.

But for now, you settle in, because you know this game—they know it too. And it’s only just beginning.

The atmosphere was almost suffocating. As much as you tried to busy yourself, to focus on your usual routine, the presence of Toji and Shiu in your apartment made it near impossible to think straight. Every glance they threw your way, every subtle brush of their hands as they moved past you, sent your heart racing.

You grabbed the first-aid kit, clutching it like a lifeline as you approached the couch where Toji was sprawled out. His broad frame took up most of the cushions, his legs lazily stretched out, one arm draped along the backrest. He looked up at you with an amused smirk, his sharp eyes gleaming with something almost predatory.

“Come to patch me up, sweetheart?” he drawled, holding up his hand where a shallow but jagged cut ran across his knuckles. The injury didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest; if anything, he looked far too entertained by your flustered demeanor.

You sat down beside him, keeping your focus on the first-aid kit as you opened it. “It’s nothing serious,” you muttered, your voice betraying the flutter of nerves in your chest. “You’ve had worse.”

Toji chuckled low, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “And you’ve been there for every one of them. Gotta say, I’m starting to like having my own personal nurse.”

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks burned at the way his gaze lingered on you. “Stay still,” you said, dabbing antiseptic onto a cotton pad. His hand dwarfed yours as you took it gently, the heat of his skin almost searing against your palm.

Shiu wandered over from the kitchen, beer in hand, his sharp gaze landing on the two of you. “Getting the royal treatment, huh?” he remarked, his tone light but laced with amusement. He leaned casually against the armrest of the couch, his proximity making you even more aware of how outnumbered you were.

“Someone’s gotta take care of him,” you replied, trying to sound unaffected as you began cleaning Toji’s wound.

Toji chuckled again, his voice a low hum. “Yeah? What about him?” He jerked his head toward Shiu, who raised an eyebrow in mock offense.

“Don’t drag me into your mess,” Shiu said smoothly, though he was already rolling up his sleeve to reveal a shallow scrape along his forearm. “But since you’re offering…”

You sighed, trying to keep your composure as Toji’s laughter filled the room. “You two are hopeless,” you muttered, finishing up with Toji’s hand and reaching for another antiseptic pad.

“I think she likes it,” Toji teased, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse skip. “She likes taking care of us. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Your hand froze for a split second before you quickly resumed cleaning Shiu’s arm. “You’re delusional,” you shot back, though your voice lacked conviction.

Shiu smirked, watching you intently as you worked. “Delusional, huh? You keep letting us crash here, patching us up, stocking your fridge with our beers… Sure doesn’t seem like it.”

His words hung in the air, the teasing lilt of his tone making your stomach flip. You refused to look up, focusing instead on the scrape you were treating. But the heat of their gazes was impossible to ignore.

“Careful, Shiu,” Toji chimed in, his grin widening. “You’ll scare her off.”

“Scare her?” Shiu replied smoothly, his eyes flicking to Toji before returning to you. Twirling the toothpick that sat prettily between his lips. “She’s not scared. Look at her—she’s used to it by now. Aren’t you, doll?”

You tried to muster a sharp response, but the endearment made your breath catch. Instead, you busied yourself with wrapping Shiu’s arm, your fingers trembling just slightly as you secured the bandage.

“There,” you said, a little too quickly. “All done.”

Shiu caught your wrist as you moved to pull away, his grip firm but not unkind. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the teasing faded, replaced by something deeper, heavier.

“You’re good at this,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Taking care of people.”

Your throat felt dry, your words catching before you could respond. Toji leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched the exchange with an amused smirk.

“She’s a natural,” Toji said, his tone teasing but his gaze sharp. “Like our own little housewife.”

Your cheeks burned, and you yanked your hand back from Shiu, glaring at them both. “You two are impossible,” you muttered, standing up abruptly.

Shiu chuckled, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he leaned back against the couch. “What? We’re just saying what we see.”

Toji leaned back as well, his grin downright wicked. “Yeah. Don’t get all shy on us now.”

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut, their words lingering in the air long after they were spoken. You turned away, trying to steady your breathing as you put the first-aid kit back in its place. But even with your back to them, you could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their attention pressing against you like a physical force.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

And you knew, deep down, that you didn’t want it to stop

You busied yourself with the first-aid kit, shoving bandages and cotton pads back into place with more force than necessary. The heat of their gazes lingered on your back, and no amount of focus on the task in front of you could chase away the pounding of your heart.

“Something wrong?” Toji’s voice was a low drawl, laced with amusement. You could hear the smirk in his tone.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you replied quickly, your voice tighter than you intended.

“Really?” Shiu’s voice joined in, smooth and teasing. “Because you’re looking a little flustered there, doll.”

You snapped the lid of the first-aid kit shut, spinning around to face them. “I’m not flustered,” you shot back, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrayed you.

Toji was leaning forward now, his elbows on his knees, watching you with a lazy smirk that made your stomach twist. Shiu was still reclining, one arm draped casually over the back of the couch, but his sharp gaze was locked on you, studying your every move.

“You sure about that?” Toji asked, his grin widening. “Because you’re looking pretty red right now.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, Toji stood up. His sheer presence was overwhelming, towering over you as he closed the distance between you with slow, deliberate steps.

“You’ve been so good to us, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. “Taking care of us, letting us stay… It’s cute how you think you can hide how much you like it.”

You took a step back, only to bump into something solid. Shiu had moved behind you, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned down slightly, his lips close to your ear.

“He’s right, you know,” Shiu said, his tone soft but no less commanding. “You’re always so sweet to us. Always so ready to help. Makes us wonder what else you’d do for us.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse pounding as they effectively caged you in. Toji in front of you, his intense gaze pinning you in place, and Shiu behind you, his presence warm and unyielding.

“I-I don’t…” you stammered, but the words wouldn’t come.

Toji chuckled, low and deep, as he reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered just a second too long, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “See? Flustered,” he teased, his smirk turning almost predatory.

“Maybe she likes it,” Shiu murmured from behind you, his voice a smooth hum that made your knees feel weak. “Likes us.”

The words sent a jolt through you, and you turned your head slightly to glance at him. His eyes were sharp, yet there was something softer flickering beneath the surface, something that made your heart skip.

“I don’t—” you started, but your voice faltered as Toji leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Don’t what?” he asked, his tone deceptively casual. “Don’t want this?” His gaze flicked to your lips, and your breath caught in your throat.

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t think. The space between the three of you was charged, every inch of it humming with tension.

And then, Toji closed the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle, almost testing. It didn’t stay that way for long. The heat built quickly, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face as he deepened the kiss, his body pressing closer until there was no space left between you.

When he finally pulled back, your chest was heaving, your mind spinning. You barely had a second to recover before Shiu’s hand was on your shoulder, turning you slightly to face him. His gaze was darker, more focused, but there was a softness to the way he cradled your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“Don’t think I’m letting him have all the fun,” he murmured before his lips captured yours. Shiu kissed with the same control he carried in everything he did—slow, deliberate, but no less consuming. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as he took his time, savoring every second.

When he pulled away, you were left breathless, your head spinning as you looked between the two of them. Toji was smirking again, his arms crossed over his broad chest, while Shiu’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.

“Looks like you’re not so confident now,” Toji teased, his voice low and gravelly.

Shiu leaned in closer, his gaze locked onto yours. “That’s okay,” he murmured, his tone softer now, though no less intense. “We like you like this.”

The air between you was thick, heavy with the promise of something more, something inevitable. And as you stood there, caught between them, you knew you were done pretending.

They repeated their actions, sharing you in a heated kiss once again.

Toji’s lips brushed against yours first, slow and deliberate, as if daring you to pull away. His hand cupped your jaw, holding you in place, his rough palm warm against your skin. The kiss was confident, a little rough around the edges, just like him. You barely had time to catch your breath before Shiu’s presence at your side shifted, his fingers gently turning your face toward him.

Shiu’s kiss was different—softer, slower, yet no less consuming. His lips moved against yours with a deliberate patience that made your knees weak, his hand firm at the small of your back, grounding you in the moment. When he pulled away, his gaze met yours, dark and heavy with unspoken words.

“Well,” Toji said, his voice rough and teasing as he glanced between you and Shiu. “Didn’t think she’d give in so easily.” His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer as if to prove his point. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Shiu smirked, his thumb brushing your lower lip as if to trace the remnants of the kiss. “Maybe she’s been waiting for this as much as we have.” His tone was calm, but the way his eyes lingered on you made your stomach flip.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got caught in your throat as Toji leaned down again, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. “You’re not pulling away,” he murmured, the amusement in his voice barely masking the heat beneath it. “Guess that means you don’t want us to stop.”

Your hands, trembling slightly, found their way to Toji’s chest, the hard muscle beneath his shirt grounding you. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your palm, a stark contrast to the chaos of your own.

“I…” you started, your voice faltering as Shiu leaned in closer, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your neck.

“You can say it,” Shiu murmured, his lips brushing against your ear in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Or we can just keep going. Your choice.”

The tension was unbearable, the weight of their combined attention leaving you breathless. Your hands curled into Toji’s shirt, your body leaning into Shiu’s warmth at your back. Every touch, every look, seemed to echo the unspoken promise hanging in the air between you all.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you finally admitted, the words barely audible but carrying enough weight to shift the atmosphere entirely.

Toji grinned, his teeth catching his lower lip for a brief moment as if savoring your confession. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Shiu’s chuckle was low and rich, his hand sliding down to rest lightly on your hip. “Smart choice,” he said, his voice laced with a possessive edge that made your pulse race.

Toji leaned in, his lips capturing yours again with more urgency this time, as if your words had broken whatever restraint he’d been holding onto. His kiss was all-consuming, his hand gripping your waist to anchor you to him. Shiu’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against your hip, his presence at your back steady and sure.

When Toji finally pulled away, his eyes met yours, dark and intense. “You taste good,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Knew you would.”

Shiu’s hand tightened slightly on your hip, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw as he spoke. “Toji’s right,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You’re everything we thought you’d be.”

Your breath hitched, your body caught between the two of them, their touches and words weaving a web you couldn’t escape from—not that you wanted to. The heat between you all was undeniable, every moment building on the last, the tension a live wire ready to snap.

You let out a shaky exhale, your head tilting back against Shiu’s chest as Toji’s hand trailed lower, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “What are you two doing to me?” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Exactly what you want us to,” Shiu replied, his voice a low murmur against your skin.

Toji’s laugh was rough, a little breathless. “And we’re just getting started.”

The air was thick as Toji’s freshly bandaged hand danced along the hem of your shirt before tugging it up over your head. You were without a bra this evening, your nippled perking as the cold air brushed against them. You felt utterly submitted to the men caging you in, their gazes predatory, hungry.

Ship’s hands moved next gently cupping your breast, letting a gentle groan out at the feeling of your soft skin. The men moved in turn, practised. It was kind of freaky how well they took turns with you, sharing you so well. “So beautiful sweetheart, cant believe you were hiding all this from us.”

A small gasp escaping your lips at the contact, Shiu’s fingers moving to tweak your hard nipples, rolling them gently between his fingers, pinching them as your skin prickled with goosebumps.

His nose dragging up your exposed neck as your head lolled onto his shoulder. Your pouting lips now caught between your teeth as you tried not to squeal.

Toji’s hugs hands had grip on your waist, caressing gently up an down your sides as he watched your face, smirking at your expressions as Shiu played with you. His hands trailing lower… and lower. Teasingly slow until they reached your waistband of your shorts. dragging them along with your panties down your legs, allowing you to kick them off into the distance

There you stood completely bare and these two men had their way with you. You didn’t have a chance to feel self conscious before Toji was lowering himself to his knees, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder. You were glad you had Shiu behind you to hold you up because that first lick from Toji had your knees buckling.

Shiu's hands gripped your hips with a possessive steadiness, pulling you back against his solid frame. His body was warm, his breath tickling the shell of your ear as he leaned in. “You’re trembling,” he murmured, the edge of amusement in his voice unmistakable.

Your response was swallowed by a soft gasp as Toji was just getting started,his movements deliberate, his focus razor-sharp. The intensity of his attention left your mind spinning, your body caught between the steady push and pull of their combined presence. Toji’s tongue was flicking up on down on your clit eagerly, slurping all the juices you were giving him.

“You taste fucking heavenly doll” he practically moans into your already soaking pussy. His comment making you release a whimper.

“Can’t handle both of us, can you?” Shiu teased, his lips brushing the sensitive curve of your neck. His voice was a low, molten drawl, carrying a note of wicked satisfaction that sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your hands gripped the fabric of Toji’s shirt, knuckles whitening as you tried to ground yourself against the overwhelming sensations. Shiu chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Sweet little thing,” he murmured, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the base of your throat. “So responsive.”

Toji’s muffled laugh rumbled below you, the sound dark and teasing. “You should see her face, Shiu. She’s not sure whether to fight it or give in.” His hands tightened their hold on your thighs, a silent encouragement that only added fuel to the fire. His tongue now travelling deeper, diving into your core. His nose bumping against your clit making you jolt. You couldn’t even try to hide your moans anymore, your eyes fluttering shut as your mouth hangs open in pleasure.

Shiu’s lips parted against your neck, and the sharp nip of his teeth made your breath hitch. His tongue followed, soothing the sting before he latched on, sucking at the delicate skin just below your jawline. His movements were deliberate, each pull of his lips a silent declaration of possession.

“You like this, don’t you?” Shiu murmured against your skin, his tone shifting into something darker, something that felt like a promise. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers brushing just under the hem of your shirt. “Having us both like this. Makes you feel wanted, doesn’t it?”

Your head tilted instinctively, giving him better access as his teeth grazed a particularly sensitive spot. His chuckle was soft, almost smug, as he worked the skin, leaving no doubt that his mark would linger long after this moment was over.

“Look at her,” Shiu said, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Already melting for us. You’re enjoying this a little too much, sweetheart.”

Toji’s hand slid up your side, his fingers splayed possessively over your ribs. “She’s not complaining,” he pointed out, his tone dripping with amusement. “Think she likes being the center of attention.” Every time he spoke from between your legs you couldn’t help but squeal from the vibrations of his deep voice. You couldn’t believe a man like Toji was on his knees in front of you, eating you out like you were his last meal. His hands on your hips managing the rolls of your hips against his face. He was basically making out with you cunt, leaving sloppy kisses all over, sucking on you clit.

You tried to form a response, but the words caught in your throat as Shiu’s lips moved lower, his tongue trailing along your collarbone before his teeth found another sensitive spot. The sharp sensation sent a jolt through you, and he chuckled again, his grip tightening on your hips.

“You’ll look good with my mark,” Shiu murmured, his voice laced with quiet satisfaction. “And his,” he added, his tone dropping further as he nodded toward Toji. “You’re ours tonight.”

The heat between the three of you was suffocating, the air thick with tension and unspoken promises. Shiu’s hands slid back down to your waist, holding you steady as his lips worked against your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Toji’s low growl of approval only added to the pressure building inside you. “Don’t go too easy on her,” he said, his smirk audible in his tone. “She can take it. She’s already dripping for me and I’m only warming up.”

Shiu pulled back just enough to catch your eyes, his smirk matching Toji’s. “Oh, I know,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the edge of the mark he’d left. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

You could barely breathe, the weight of their attention leaving you lightheaded and completely at their mercy. The tension between you all was thick enough to cut, the unspoken connection weaving tighter with every passing moment.

Your Hand now moving to Toji’s hair, needing something to grip onto with the pleasure he was giving you right now You were close and both on the men could tell, Shiu’s hand speedily returning to your nipples, giving them a squeeze causing your back to arch off his strong frame. You were dripping down Toji’s chin, his tongue eagerly lapping up every drop he could.

“Think she might be close” Shiu spoke, his deep voice flowing through your mind, Toji only humming at him in response, licking thick stripes up your whole cunt.

You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer, Cumming all over his face. That band in your core snapping. You moaned out loudly, unable to control the bucking of your hips as both men rode you through your high, Shiu gently talking you through your orgasm

“That’s it sweet girl, Cum for us.” he kissed against your ear as you shook against him “feels good yeah?”

You did your best to nod in response, trying to focus on catching your breath. Toji finally making his way up, kissing up your body before he rose to his full height, kissing you hard on the lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue. The erotic nature of the kiss had you whining. Finally he lets you out for breath

Your head is spinning, and your body feels like it's still humming from the intensity of what just happened. You're not sure when you lost control, but now, standing between Toji and Shiu, you're completely at their mercy. Every breath you take seems to send a wave of heat rushing through you, your skin still tingling from the aftermath.

Toji watches you with that damn smirk of his, his eyes glinting with something dangerous and amused. "Look at you," he drawls, his voice slow and steady, the words dripping with a mix of satisfaction and something darker. "Completely out of your element, aren’t you?"

Your face burns, and you can barely meet his gaze. You're standing between them, completely vulnerable, and the way they look at you now sends a shiver down your spine. It's as if they're seeing something no one else ever has, something they've claimed and marked.

You swallow, your throat dry. Every word feels like it’s pulling you deeper under their spell. "I..." Your voice falters, and you feel ridiculous, like you’re failing to hold onto whatever little bit of dignity you have left.

Shiu tilts his head, his fingers lingering on the curve of your neck as he watches you closely. "You’re so cute when you’re flustered," he whispers, leaning in just enough that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin. "Like you can't decide whether to hate us or beg for more."

Toji’s gaze flicks from you to Shiu, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think she likes it," he mutters, his voice teasing but with an edge of possessiveness. "Doesn't she, sweetheart?"

Your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, and you're trapped between them—neither of them needing to say anything more. You can feel how tightly the tension holds between the three of you, and they both seem to be drinking in your reactions like a cocktail they can’t get enough of.

"You're not fooling anyone," Shiu says, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "We both know how much you like it. Especially after that little show you just gave us” You can hear thr grin on his face. Toji wiping your orgasm from his face with the back of his arm. You gulp

Your lips part as if you were going to protest, but the words get stuck in your throat. They’re right—there’s no denying it anymore. You’ve given yourself to them, and they know it. It’s almost humiliating how easy you were to break, but the thing is... you don’t mind.

Toji steps forward, his hand coming to rest on your lower back, pulling you closer, his large frame looming over you as he leans down to murmur in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "You’re not in control anymore, sweetheart. And you love it."

Shiu steps in, his hand coming to rest on your side, his touch firm but not forceful, just enough to remind you that you’re completely surrounded. His voice is smooth as he speaks, his lips brushing against your neck. "You’re ours now. We’ve claimed you, haven’t we?"

You don’t answer, because you know it’s true. Every inch of you is burning, still aching from what just happened, and you can’t deny the way your body reacts to them, how desperately you crave their touch, their attention.

They don’t need your answer—they already have it, and that’s all they care about. Toji gives a soft, mocking chuckle as he looks down at you. "You can’t hide it," he murmurs. "You’ve been ours for a while now. We just had to make sure you knew it." He’s slowly removing his shirt, revealing his huge muscular form. You can hear shuffling from behind you also, Shiu removing his suit jacket, then his tie. Soon fingers stating on his dress shirt

Your breath catches in your throat as you try to pull yourself together, but the air around you is so thick, so saturated with their presence that it’s impossible to ignore. Every part of you is trembling under their gaze, and there’s no escaping them now.

Shiu’s lips find your neck once more, his mouth hot against your skin as he sucks lightly, marking you again, making sure you remember who you belong to. His voice comes out muffled against your skin. "No one else is ever going to touch you like we do."

Toji steps back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, enjoying the flush that’s spread across your face and neck. "And you wouldn’t want anyone else," he says with a smirk. "Not after we’ve had our way with you."

The realization hits you all at once—you’re utterly, completely theirs, and in that moment, all you can do is surrender to it.

You don’t even think about fighting when Shiu pushes you onto the couch. manhandling you until your on all fours. Part of you is upset you can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared behind you. You could’ve sat there and just stared at both the shirtless men in awe, but you resisted.

Your heart jumps when you hear the clinking of a belt buckle, Toji chuckling at your reaction. You were waiting patiently, feeling the couch shift behind you as Shiu aligns himself with you. You could feel his hard tip poking at your entrance. The suspense making you squirm

“Stop teasing the poor thing Shiu, she looks like she’s about to cry” Toji says, hes sat down on your armchair now, watching the both of you. His grey sweats doing nothing to hide the bulge in his pants. He’s palming himself shamelessly as he watches intently.

“Awh you poor thing” Shiu coos teasingly, not giving you a chance before sheathing himself inside you completely. “Is that what you wanted doll?” he chuckles.

You jolt forward, not expecting to feel so full so quickly. Jesus christ he was big. Your poor arms already wobbling, you let out a sob. He slid right in, you were absolutely soaked. Your walls welcoming him greedily.

“Holy fuck! Shiu oh my god-“ You sobbed out pathetically. He hadn’t even started moving yet, but you hadn’t been this full in a while. he felt amazing wrapped in your walls. One of his hands grabbing at the fat of your ass as he finally starts thrusting inside of you. It’s like you were seeing stars, the sounds of your skin slapping together echoing through the room as he fucked you. Small grunts escaping him each time he bottomed out inside of your greedy pussy.

“Shit sweetheart, you’ve got a perfect little pushy. so pretty-“ he grunts from above you. God he sounded so good, that voice dripping in sex as he tried to control himself. Shiu was struggling to keep His composure as he watched the way you arched so nicely for him, giving him deeper access. The way your ass recoiled with each slam of his hips. And those delicious little noises you made when he hit a paticularly deep spot.

You were slowly pushing him to the brink. He was doing all he could to resist the anamalistic urge of just fucking you hard and fast, finishing in mere minutes. But he wanted to take his time with you, to savour how beautiful you looked at her mercy. Lord only knows how long he’d wanted to do this. “Shit baby, sucking the life out of me.” Moaning as he slams back into you. Your pussy gripping him so well you could feeleach vein on his cock.

You had never felt so perfectly full before, Shiu was hitting you at such a good angle you were almost voiceless. Running out of breath to cry out for him anymore. In the corner of your eye you watch Toji raise from the arm chair. He was sat the jerking off while watching you both, but now he was joining in again.

He’s in front of you now, both men at either end of you “I know that pussy of yours is perfect doll, how about that mouth?” He grips your face with his huge hand as he talks to you. It’s like he knows your fucked out and can hardly speak by the fact hes speaking so gently to you. His other hand was jerking off his thick cock. He had already rid himself or his grey sweats.

You were on fire. You felt like you were feeling everything at one Shiu fucking you so good, your orgasm nearing once more, and seeing Toji in front of you right now had you squirming.

You couldnt even process words to speak in that moment so you just opened your mouth up pathetically.

Toji groaned at the sight of you welcoming mouth, slipping his leaking tip in eagerly, hissing at the feeling of your tongue sliding over his slit. He gripped your hair gently, guiding you down his cock further and further until he was hitting the back of your throat before letting you back up again, he knew he wouldn’t last as long as he hoped. Not with the way you sweet little moans were vibrating against his cock. He was painfully hard from eating you out already.

You couldn’t quite believe your circumstances, sandwiched between the two men as they fucked both your holes. Shiu’s hands slapping at your ass now as he cursed to himself. Every thrust he gave you sending you further down Toji’s length. His considerable size leaving you gagging around him so sweetly. You moaned at the taste of his salty precum, drooling over his cock.

The men couldn’t believe it themselves to be honest. They had spoken about this moment many times, after all those nights spent staking out targets can lead to some interesting conversations. They were just shocked it was happening now. Not that either of them were complaining. Seeing you so vulnerable in front of them, god it was a dream come true.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined this before, on lonely nights. Nights where the men were sleeping just down the hall from your bedroom door, when the beers you drank had gone to your head and thoughts filled your mind. First it was just innocent imagining, I mean they basically lived with you, but then it turned heated. Your fingers getting you off to the thought of them having their way with you.

You could feel your impending orgasm, squeezing around Shiu’s length. Your legs shaking pathetically as his movements, if toji wasn’t basically holding you up by your hair you were sure you’d be crying into he cushions on your couch.

“Shit you close already sweetheart?” Shiu chuckles, but you can hear the strained pleasure in his cocky voice. He was close as well.

You moan on Toji’s cock as Shiu’s pace increases to an impossible speed. Your moan turning into a pathetic cry. Hot tears streaming down your flushed face, drool trailing down your chin.

“Shhhh, come on doll. let go for us.” Toji groans, he removed his cock from your mouth, giving a chance for you to catch your breath. You previously muffled noises now sinfulling ringing clearly in the room.

“So f-fucking good.” your body gleams as you writhe between the two men

“I know, I know sweetheart.” Toji speaks now, softer than before. The hand that was gripping your hair gentle caressing it instead, lulling you smoothly into your orgasm.

You cum over Shiu’s cock, juices gushing over the moan who moans in awe above you. You were fucking shaking as waves racked over you. Your orgasm more intense than the first one. Shiu didnt stop, fucking you through it as his tip hit that sponges spot inside of you.

“Holy fuck..” He couldn’t stop himself either, that sight alone has him cumming deep inside you, hips not stopping until he’s sure hes fucked his seed deep in you belly. He pulls out, watching as you clench around nothing, Hi cum leaking out of your used hole. Before you can move, the men have switched. Toji’s positioning himself behind you and Shiu is in front, assuming Toji’s post of stroking your head.

Toji slowly pushes inside you, muttering to himself about needing to finsh in you. He’s already close from the head you’ve just given him, but he cant resist dumping his load in your sweet little cunt.

He doesn’t go easy on you, as soon as he’s fully in you, he starts a brutal pace. Hips snapping into yours. Both hands gripping your ass, giving it a few slaps before grabbing the skin once more. His eyes trained on the ring of white forming around the base of his cock, his eyes not leaving where he enters you. Like he’s entranced.

You’re whining from the overstimulation, Toji was slightly thicker than Shiu, and you could feel him stretching you. “Still so tight baby, youre fucking perfect.” he grunts out between thrusts.

All you can do is take it while Shiu coos at. you sweetly, muttering about how well your doing, how beautiful you look.

Toji didn’t last too long, soon finishing in you as well. A guttural groan leaving him as he empties his balls. He doesn’t still until he thighs are shaking, ensuring he’s all in you. Pulling out, just to finger the cum back inside of you. God he was filthy. You loved it.

For a moment you all just lay there, squashed on the sofa, strewn across the giant men while their cum leaked from you. When your breathing finally slowed and you stopped shaking, they carried you into your bathroom. You couldn’t stop the giggle and Toji sweeping you up bridal style and Shiu opened the door to your bathroom. Both of them cleaning you up oh so gently with a washcloth, kissing your head gently, before taking you to your bedroom.

For the first time (but certainly not the last) you big bed didn’t feel so lonely when they both joined you. Cuddling against them both as you had some of the best sleep of your life.

A/n: YALL IM BEGGING YOU LIKE A REPOST!!!! PLEASE!!! this is probably one of my favourite works yet and I really hope it gets the love it deserves, I slaved over this, it is my baby.

AND THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE ON MY RECENT FICS

MY REQUESTS FOR JJK/AOT ARE OPEN!!! I esp love writing small drabbles so please any cute ideas just let me know, it doesn’t have to be smut 💜

[pinkboaclub]

Sweet Thing

Summery: You and Harry are best friends, despite your 15 year age gap. One night, when your blind date goes wrong, he wants to make sure your night still ends in pleasure. {Older!Harry}

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, age gap (15 years), mention of alcohol consumption, fem!reader

“Oh, what’s wrong, pretty girl?” Harry asked, his voice warm with concern as you trudged over to him from the bar, exhaustion written across your face.

The music in the background blared so loudly that it felt like it was vibrating through your bones, drowning out everything else. Every Friday night, Harry rented a private room at the local club for your group of friends to unwind, drink, and let loose.

You collapsed into his lap, resting your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

“I’m just so tired…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer with a gentle smile. He knew how alcohol always made you sleepy and affectionate, especially after just a few drinks.

“Poor thing,” Harry teased, his lip sticking out in a mock pout. He was used to giving you the same spiel every Friday—how he knew even a little alcohol would knock you out.

“I wasn’t even planning on drinking tonight,” you giggled drunkenly. “But then Eve and Clara dragged me to the bar, and I had one drink… and then two… and then three…it really wasn’t my fault.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll get you something to eat, at least. You need to balance out that alcohol.” He reached across the table to grab a small bowl of pretzels and nuts he had sent to the table the moment he saw you take your first shot, but the thought of eating made your stomach churn.

Despite the 15-year age gap between you—23 and Harry 38—you had always been close. You were just friends, of course, and had made sure to clarify that to everyone around you, but it didn’t stop people from speculating.

But could you blame them? You practically lived at his house, spent most of your free time together, and took care of each other like an old married couple.

You half-heartedly munched on a couple of pretzels, trying to settle your stomach. Just then, a waiter appeared with a glass of ice water, which you drank down in one go, the cold helping to ground you.

As your friends continued their chatter, some heading to the bar, others to the dance floor, you stayed in Harry’s lap, drifting in and out of sleep with your head tucked into his neck.

“We can head home if you want, bunny,” Harry murmured, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back.

“No, I’m okay,” you protested sleepily, keeping your eyes shut as you snuggled deeper into him. “Let’s stay for a bit.”

Eve, Clara, and a few others returned, laughing as they took their seats around the table.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen fall asleep in a club with barely any alcohol in their system,” Eve said with a teasing smile.

You managed a sleepy chuckle. “I can’t socialize without a little buzz,” you admitted, blinking your eyes open for the first time in a while as you sat up.

“As long as we get you on the dance floor later, I don’t mind,” Clara said with a wink, sipping on her margarita.

"Speaking of socializing," Eve began, eyeing you playfully, "Do you remember that guy we met at Jolie’s art exhibit? Elijah?" You nodded, though your memory of him was hazy.

"Well," she continued, "he kind of asked if I could set you two up on a date... but I told him I’d check with you first. It’s totally your call."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just the idea of finally getting laid after months of dry spells, but before you could think it through, your words came tumbling out.

"Sure, why not? I think I remember him being cute. Is he nice?" You caught Harry’s gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as his jaw clenched.

"He’s a friend of Jolie and me from University," Eve said, her voice light. "He was closer to Jolie, but he’s sweet. Really into art and music. I think you’ll like him." Eve’s tone was upbeat, though the surprise among the other girls was palpable. You'd been known to avoid dating for months, and yet here you were, agreeing to a date in the blink of an eye. Without hesitation, Eve texted Elijah to let him know you'd accepted.

The next hour passed in a blur of laughter and bad jokes that were 10 times funnier thanks to the alcohol coursing through your system. After a couple more drinks, you, Eve, and Clara decided to hit the dance floor again.

"You’re coming with me?" you asked Harry, slinging your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Not really feeling it," he bluntly replied. "But don’t let me stop you."

You pouted, leaning closer to him. "You can go home, if you’re done. We could go home together." Your lips kissed all over his face, guilt creeping in as your drunk brain wondered if you'd done something wrong.

"No, no, sweet thing, I’m good. Just haven’t had enough to drink to feel loose enough to show off my moves," he chuckled, planting a quick kiss on your head. "Go have fun."

With that, you strutted away, immediately getting lost in the rhythm of the music. You couldn’t help but notice each of you was drunkenly dancing to a different beat.

"Hey!! Elijah texted me back!" Eve shouted over the thumping music. "He wants to take you out tomorrow!"

"Sounds good!" you yelled back, not even pausing in your wild dancing. "Any time after five works for me!"

When your legs finally felt like they’d given all they could to the dance floor, the three of you retreated back to your private room.

"I can tell by your face that you’re getting tired again," Harry teased, his voice warm as he glanced over at you. You sat down next to him, leaning into his side. "Time to go home?"

You nodded, already feeling the weight of your headache catching up to you.

"Okay, let’s go, sweet thing." Harry helped you stand, offering you a smile.

As was the usual routine after a night out—one of you sober, the other tipsy—the sober one would drive the drunk one home. When you were both drunk, however, it became a game of scissor -paper-stone to see who’d get the front seat in the Uber.

He gently assisted you into his car, a sleek black Range Rover, securing your seatbelt as you leaned back, closing your eyes in quiet exhaustion.

When you arrived at his house, he was there again, unbuckling your seatbelt and guiding you to the door with steady care.

“I’ll grab you some water and Ibuprofen. Why don’t you head upstairs and get ready for bed?”

You nodded in gratitude, your body heavy with fatigue as you slowly made your way up the stairs. Once inside his room, you went straight to the dresser, where you always kept a few pairs of pajamas for nights like this.

In his bathroom, your extra face wash, moisturizer, and toothbrush were neatly arranged….maybe people weren’t wrong to wonder if there was something more going on between you two.

Your hangover symptoms the next morning are what woke you up, head pounding and nausea. You opened your eyes, seeing Harry sitting up next to you, reading his book, shirtless.

“What a beautiful site to walk up to.” You groggily joked.

Harry looked up from his book, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he marked his place and set the book aside. His eyes softened as he noticed you, his hand gently your messy hair away from your face.

“How’s your head feeling?” he asked, his tone low and soothing.

You let out a groan in response, your mind scrambling for some semblance of clarity. Slowly, fragments of last night came rushing back. The dim, pulsing lights of the club. The laughter. The dancing. You winced at the ache in your feet, a silent reminder of how long you'd been on your feet. And then, a sudden, jarring memory surfaced—one that made your stomach churn in a different way.

“Wait… did I really agree to go on a date today?” You asked, barely believing it yourself.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, his fingers still gently massaging your scalp as he looked at you with a mixture of affection and amusement.

“You did,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You groaned again, sinking deeper into the pillow, willing the world to stop spinning. “Jeez, I can’t even remember the last five minutes, let alone a date,” you muttered, half to yourself.

Harry’s chuckle turned into a laugh as he shifted closer to you, his thumb brushing lightly over your temple in a comforting rhythm.

"I think you’re going to be just fine," Harry teased, his voice still soft with affection. "But I’m not gonna lie... I am interested to see how this date goes. Since you've been avoiding dating for so long"

"Yeah, well, let’s just say I’m not expecting anything amazing," you sighed, stretching your arms above your head.

Later that day, you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror, nervously adjusting your outfit. You weren’t exactly thrilled about the date, but you didn’t want to look like you didn’t care either. You settled on a simple black dress—something that was easy but still flattering.

You took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if you had something better to do. You could always call Harry afterward to complain about how terrible it went.

You arrived at restaurant where Elijah had suggested you meet. It had that typical artsy vibe—exposed brick walls, vintage furniture, and food that probably cost more than it should have. As you walked in, you spotted Elijah immediately.

He looked up as you approached, a confident, almost smug smile spreading across his face. “Ah, you made it,” he said, standing to greet you.

"Of course," you replied, offering a smile.

"So, what do you like to do?" Elijah leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the table, his gaze more smug than ever. "What’s your thing? What are you into?"

The question hung in the air, a little too casually thrown at you. You hesitated for a moment, then smiled politely. "Well, I enjoy a bit of everything. Not really an expert in anything, though. I like books, music… anything creative, really."

He waved a hand dismissively, clearly not too interested in your response. “That’s nice. But honestly, I think everyone has their own version of what ‘creativity’ means. I think it’s just one of those things that gets watered down by society’s need to put things in boxes.”

You nodded, trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking his own thoughts. The guy was talking in circles, as if he had an actual dissertation on his mind.

At some point during the evening, you realized that Elijah wasn’t going to ask about you or show any real interest in anything about your life. He kept dropping vague hints about how "complicated" he was, how misunderstood artists like himself had to suffer for their brilliance, and how he was just waiting for the world to catch up with him.

The only thing that really seemed to get him talking was his apparent admiration for himself.

Eventually, the awkwardness started to wear off, and he invited you to his apartment. Not that you were expecting anything from it—but you hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and the loneliness was starting to hit.

The two of you ended up sitting on your couch, sipping wine, your conversation moving toward more personal topics. It felt... comfortable, even though you knew it wasn’t exactly what you'd been hoping for. Still, you found yourself kissing him a little while later, your mind racing with that familiar nervous excitement.

Things moved quickly, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, both of you tangled up in each other in the dimly lit space of your apartment.

Time passed—minutes, hours, it was hard to tell. Eventually, you found yourself at the door, your dress wrinkled and your head spinning.

"Stay. Please," Elijah urged, his eyes softening slightly as he leaned in closer. “We could talk more. I really want to see you again.”

You bit your lip, your thoughts muddled. But, remembering the hours of excruciating conversation, you knew you needed to leave. "I have work in the morning," you said, even though it wasn’t true. The lie slipped out before you could even think about it.

Elijah’s face fell slightly, but he nodded. "Well, I guess that’s alright. But next time… Let’s make sure we have more time."

You smiled softly, but your mind was already elsewhere, already home and away from him.

You stepped out into the cool night air, pulling your coat tightly around your shoulders, feeling that familiar sense of discomfort slowly sink in. The date had been a total bust, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of regret.

At home, after a quick shower to wash off the lingering feelings of awkwardness, you picked up your phone and texted Harry, hoping that he’d be up for a late-night rant.

"Can I come over to vent? This date was so annoying."

You didn’t have to wait long before his reply popped up. "Of course, pretty girl."

And so, you drove over, already thinking about how you were going to explain all the cringey moments to Harry, secretly hoping he wouldn’t say, “I told you so."

“You look like you had a blast,” Harry remarked dryly, opening the door for you.

You suppressed the urge to launch into a full rant. “Oh, yeah, great time,” you replied with equal sarcasm.

You both collapsed onto the couch— you sprawled out, Harry sitting up beside you like you were about to start a therapy session. Without missing a beat, you let the floodgates open.

“He literally talked about himself the entire time,” you began, voice dripping with frustration. “He asked me what I like to do, and as soon as I told him, he started lecturing me on his ‘interpretation of creativity.’ And it didn’t stop. For the entire date.”

Harry grinned, clearly entertained, as you continued your rant, eyes narrowing as you remembered every detail.

“And every conversation has to be this deep, philosophical, soul-searching dive— like, ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space,’ you know? The kind of thing you'd hear from the most insufferable kid in a first year psych class.”

You huffed, running a hand through your hair as the memory played in your mind. “Do you want me to continue?” You looked up at Harry. “It gets a little…18+.”

Harry's jaw slightly clenched, but he let out a chuckle. “Oh really? His personality wasn’t enough of a red flag?” He teased you, you burst out into laughter.

“Okay, okay, you have no right to judge, we’re both victims of making bad decisions when we’re horny.” You joked.

“Mm, I don’t know, I would’ve left after the ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space’ comment.”

“First of all, he didn’t actually say that…..that was just his vibe.” You corrected, both of you continuing to laugh. “And second of all, I KNOW you still would have slept with him, especially if you hadn’t been with anyone in four months.” You reminded him.

“Oh would I? No amount of horniness would have even made me go back to that type of person’s house.”

“You’re a liar. “ you said, dying of laughter. “Do I have to remind you of that girl you slept with, the one who kept saying ‘actually’ in front of very compliment, that you hated? ‘You’re actually funny. You’re actually kind of cute. You’re actually smart. What was her name? Lily? Lucy?”

“It was Laura.” He sheepishly corrected you

“And if I remember correctly, it wasn’t just one night, even after she described your sex as ‘actually good’, so I don’t want any judgment from you.” He surrendered, and let you continue.

“I’ll spare you the intimate details…I’ll just say, I didn’t necessarily leave satisfied.”

“Did you finish?”

“He finished. I didn’t.”

“Y/N.” He titled his head towards you in disbelief.

You stayed silent, almost trying to hide a smile out of embarrassment. He shook his head in disapproval.

“This is why I don’t go on dates. All I got was a shitty dinner and I still haven’t had a non-self inflicted orgasm in 4 months.”

He held his arm out as an invitation to invite you closer to him. Accepting his invitation, you leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Did you go home and…help yourself?” He asked, rubbing your back in consolation.

“No! I went home, took a shower, and then came straight here!” He chuckled, pulling you into his lap, making you straddle him.

“You don’t have to end the night unsatisfied,” he teased, his voice low with a playful edge.

“You promised no judgment,” you laughed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. His silence, paired with the look in his eyes, made it clear he wasn’t entirely joking.

“I’m just saying... there’s an easy fix,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Both of you laughed, though the underlying seriousness in your tones couldn’t be ignored.

“An easy fix? Like what?” you asked, your voice dropping slightly, the flirtation slipping into your words.

“Well, let’s say you wanted to,” He guided you off his lap, sitting you next to him. “You could lay down right here.”

You lowered your back onto the couch, your heart pounding harder than ever.

“Is this okay?” He clarified. You nodded and he continued. “I could come up here, make you feel better.” He crawled up to your neck, laying kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone.

He kneeled down on the ground in front of the couch. His hand shifted down to the button of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them and lowering them down your leg.

“You're in control here. Anytime you want to stop or do something else, you let me know, I want to make you feel good.” Your chest quickly moved up and down and you hummed in acknowledgment.

He grabbed your leg, placing it on one of his shoulders, kissing the other leg until he got to your inner thigh. Before he could continue you grabbed the ends of your top, quickly pulling it off to reveal your bra. Harry gave you a cheeky smile before he continued.

He kissed the insides of your thighs, sucking the delicate skin until a string of tiny purple bruises dotted your thighs.

“Please, Harry.” You whined in an impatient tone.

His eyes shot up to your face. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

“Everything. Your tongue. Your fingers. Please…please Harry.” The eagerness that had been building up in you for the past four months started to come up all at once.

“You need to learn patience, baby.” He teased you, lightly grazing his lips along your inner thigh. Finally, he grabbed your underwear and helped you out of them.

He planted his lips over your clit, expertly curling his tongue around the swollen area and flicking until your hips bucked. His arms curled around your thighs, pulling you to him and splaying a hand over your stomach to keep your hips still. He flattened his tongue against your clit to give you the pressure that you desperately craved.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny. So wet. Is this all for me?”

You hastily nodded, unable to speak.

Your hand tugged hard on his hair as his tongue worked delicately hard across your clit. Harry took one last look at your flushed face before moving his fingers at a punishing pace, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He could tell that you were holding back a bit, since you two had been friends for a while, yet this was your first interaction past a simple cuddle. He lifted his mouth from you.

“It’s alright, sweet thing. I got you, I want to make you feel good.”

He went back to pleasuring you, his ability to make you feel this good felt so natural. You focused on him, trying to push any nerves to the back of your head. His hand that rested on your stomach grabbed your hand, wrapping his fingers around your hand, giving you a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

A shudder rippled through your body and a deep moan erupted from your throat as you came around his fingers. Harry focused on you, helping you ride out your orgasm.

He climbed back up to you, sweeping your hair from your face and kissing your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks. “It’s okay, sweet baby.” He cood, your eyes stayed closed as you catched your breath.

You mindlessly pulled him closer to you, hiding your face in his neck, needing immediate aftercare after your powerful orgasm.

“Wanna go upstairs…an-help you.” You breathlessly begged, kissing his neck and lowering your hand down his abdomen.

“Okay sweet thing, let’s go upstairs.”

[read part two here!]

[delulustateofmind]

"It's All Your Fault, Isn't It?"

Yan! SatoSugu x Reader Sum: You've had the chances, why didn't you take them. In the end you'll always just lose the purest of love. Last part of: Can my friend join?, This is Love, Right? ** Can be read as standalone fics** TW: Yandere Behaviors (Obsession, Manipulation, etc), Death of Child Character, Blood, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Depression, Dubcon, Lactation, Pregnancy themes, SatoSugu, Angst No Comfort. MDNI WC: 7.7k

A/n: I got supperrr stuck in the loop of editing, so I am just gonna post it, I feel like rereading it after the tenth time. I almost just pressed delete lol. :) enjoy!

It’s all your fault, isn’t it?

You did this to yourself. You should have walked away when the chance was there, when the door was still open, even just a crack. You should have screamed, fought, run—anything to reclaim a sliver of your freedom.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Was it the security? The comfort of knowing you’d never struggle to pay bills or scramble to find work? Was it the way Satoru promised, over and over, that you’d never go unloved, never feel the ache of loneliness again?

Or was it something darker? Something you couldn’t quite admit to yourself?

You told yourself it was love. You told yourself you were lucky. How many women could say they had someone who’d give them the world? Someone who, with a flick of his wrist, could bend the rules of life itself to ensure you had everything you could ever need?

So, you stayed.

Even before Suguru became part of the equation, you stayed. You even stayed when Satoru would come home in the dead of night, his footsteps a faint echo through the silent halls before his hands found you. You’d stir from your sleep as he pulled your panties down with barely a word, his breath hot against your neck.

There was no tenderness in those moments, no love—just need. A raw, consuming need he claimed you had to fulfill. And you let him, didn’t you? You let him push inside you with barely any preparation, your body yielding to him because he knew it so well.

Satoru knew the places that made you crumble, the spots where your body quivered, the way your breath hitched when his fingers grazed just right. He knew you better than you knew yourself, didn’t he? His movements were deliberate, practiced, the wet noises filling the room a cruel testament to how thoroughly he’d mastered you.

You’d given him permission. He reminded you of that often, didn’t he? That you’d said yes. That he worked so hard, carried so much, and that this was his right. That he had needs only you could meet.

And you understood. You always understood.

After all, he was the strongest, wasn’t he?

So, you let him use you.

Like a doll.

You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, as he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his loud groans of release cutting through the stillness. A pathetic little whimper followed, muffled by the darkness, as he spilled himself inside you. And then, as if the act meant nothing, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, murmured something soft and indistinct, and rolled over to his side of the bed.

You stayed there, silent and unmoving, the lingering heat of his body beside you doing nothing to warm the cold ache between your thighs.

That’s when the thought would creep in. A sick, unwelcome whisper:

You didn’t even climax.

You hated yourself for thinking it. For letting it matter.

But still, you stayed.

Was it fear that held you there? Or was it hope—a desperate, foolish hope that one-day things would change? That one day, every day would feel like those rare, sweet moments when he pressed teasing kisses against your lips before dragging you out to get sweets. That he’d touch you with love, with the tenderness he so effortlessly showed to others—when he wasn’t breaking them apart piece by piece with that same teasing grin.

And now, looking back, you can’t decide what’s worse: that you didn’t leave when you had the chance…

Or that part of you still doesn’t want to.

You stayed, even when the small arguments started. The little spats about wanting him to open up more, to share pieces of his life with you, the pieces he always kept hidden. Perhaps it was selfish—maybe even naïve—but you wanted to know why he loved you.

Really, truly loved you.

But you never asked.

You saved that question, tucking it away deep into your heart, right alongside the cracks that had already started forming. You told yourself it wasn’t the right time. That maybe he wasn’t ready. That you shouldn’t push. Instead, you focused on the good times, clinging to them like lifelines.

Because they were good, weren’t they?

What other guy would give you the world like Satoru did? What other guy would bring you flowers every week—a different color each time, sometimes traditional, sometimes exotic, but always beautiful? What other guy would shower you with affection so openly, so shamelessly, pressing kisses to your skin, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded?

Satoru had told you he loved you. And maybe he did—in a way that wasn’t entirely built on desire, the need to keep you within his grasp, or the insatiable craving to hold you close for the rest of your days.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

That’s why you stayed.

Even when Suguru came into the picture—when those dark, calculating eyes lingered on you just a moment too long when his quiet, honeyed words wove themselves into your life like threads binding you to a tapestry you couldn’t escape—you stayed.

You had the choice, didn’t you? You could have said no. You could have walked away.

But you didn’t.

You stayed, and now there was no one else to blame.

So, truly, it is all your fault.

However, your heart’s at fault too, isn’t it? For leaning into Suguru's touches, craving his warmth, even when you knew deep down that he was a cruel and awful man. A man who veiled his darkness in sweetness, wrapping it in gentle words and tender caresses that made you doubt your own truths. He was a master of contradiction—soft hands and sharp edges, honeyed lies hiding an iron grip.

You could have left.

You could have said no to the whole relationship, shut the door before it ever opened.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

You told yourself that maybe this was the best you could hope for, the best kind of love someone like you deserved. Because it was love, wasn’t it? They loved you. Even if it was conditional. Even if you had to give and give, piece after piece of yourself, just to receive a sliver in return.

Love comes in many forms, after all. And this was love.

Or so you continued to convince yourself.

This is what you deserve. That you should have listened to your gut, back when every touch felt too heavy, too lingering, too much. Back when their words seemed to wrap around you like chains instead of promises. You should have left before the walls around you closed in. Before you realized that leaving wasn’t just difficult—it was dangerous.

You had your chances, didn’t you? If only you’d taken them.

You knew Satoru would tear the world apart to find you if you ran. He’d find you, no matter where you went, no matter how far. But… would he really?

If you’d left early enough, maybe it wouldn’t have been like this. Maybe it would have been nothing more than a bad breakup, a lesson in heartbreak you’d recover from in time. Maybe, if you’d left after Suguru’s return, Satoru would have leaned on him instead of spiraling further into obsession.

But you didn’t leave.

You stayed.

Such a stupid, stupid girl.

And yet…

It was never just about them, was it?

Because you craved love too, just as much as they did. You wanted it desperately—so much that you ignored the warnings in your heart, the creeping dread in your chest. You wanted to be loved, to feel wanted, to belong to someone in a way that was absolute, undeniable, and unshakable.

And that’s exactly what they gave you.

But love like that—it came with a cost.

And you paid for it in silence, in submission, in the pieces of yourself you’d never get back.

So now, here you are, locked away in the beautiful Gojo estate. A place so grand it should feel like a palace, yet it suffocates you like a gilded cage. Every corner gleams with wealth and power, every surface reflects the life you’re supposed to be grateful for.

The maids don’t meet your eyes.

To them, you aren’t Satoru’s wife. You aren’t a partner. You’re something lesser.

A pet.

Because you aren’t the one ensuring the estate runs smoothly while Satoru is away on his endless missions. That responsibility doesn’t fall to you—it belongs to Suguru, doesn’t it? He’s the one in charge. He holds the reins, commanding the household with a quiet authority that leaves no room for question.

And you?

You remain.

The pet. The wife. The child-bearer.

Barefoot and pregnant, with a swollen belly to show for it, you shuffle through the estate like a ghost. Your body aches, weighed down not just by the child growing inside you, but by the chains of a life you can’t escape.

Suguru sees to it that the estate runs like a well-oiled machine, all while maintaining his title as the second strongest. His responsibilities never seem to tire him, never seem to dull his devotion. If anything, they only make him more overbearing.

He adores pampering you.

He drapes you in the softest blankets, ensuring you’re always warm. He dresses you in the finest clothes, silks and satins that cling to your growing belly, showcasing the proof of your usefulness. He loves the way your independence has been stripped away, loves the way you’ve been forced to rely on him for everything.

When did you become so dependent?

When did you start accepting his affection like a loyal dog, start leaning into the way his rough, calloused hands would trace the curve of your stomach? When did you start craving the way he’d gaze up at you with that lovesick smile, his voice low and honeyed as he murmured sweet words about the future?

“I hope the baby looks like Satoru,” he’d say, his eyes dark and soft as they met yours. Then, after a pause, “I hope it’s a girl.”

The words always made your chest tighten, made your stomach twist.

You know he must miss the twins.

It’s not just the weight of their absence—it’s the way he’s filled that void with this child, this unborn life. You can see it in the way he touches you, the way he watches you. He’s more excited about this pregnancy than you are.

And that’s the cruelest part, isn’t it?

Because to him, this isn’t just a child. It’s a legacy. A purpose.

To you?

It’s another chain.

And yet, you hate how loving he is. How he’s always there to hold your hair back when you’re bent over, heaving in the dead of night. How his large, warm hands find every knot in your aching limbs, massaging away the tension with a tenderness that makes your heartache.

It’s cruel, how gentle he can be. How he disarms you with care just when you think you might muster the strength to fight back.

There’s a constant mantra in your mind, a desperate hope that the baby won’t resemble either of them.

Because the thought of seeing their features reflected back at you stirs a fear too heavy to bear.

The thought of seeing their features reflected in those tiny, innocent eyes is terrifying. It brings the fear that every decision will feel like a mistake, that allowing any of this to happen will become an unbearable regret.

You tell yourself you hope, but it’s hard to ignore the possibility, isn’t it?

What if the child inherits Satoru’s piercing blue eyes—so crystalline they seem otherworldly, glowing even in the faintest light? The same eyes that burn and freeze you all at once, stripping you bare and exposing every secret, every hidden part of you.

Even his grin—boyish, sharp, too wide—lingers in your mind. A grin that could charm and cut in the same breath, leaving you unsure whether to lean closer or step away. What if that grin appeared on a smaller, softer face, just as devastating?

Or worse—what if the baby inherits Suguru’s gaze?

Those dark, soulful eyes that pull you in like the tide, gentle at first glance, inviting even, but hiding endless, churning storms beneath their surface. Eyes that promise escape is not an option. Unlike Satoru’s, Suguru’s smiles are quieter, softer—but no less dangerous. His smiles feel deliberate, like they’re slipping past every defense you didn’t even know you had.

Would the baby inherit Satoru’s arrogance? Suguru’s patience?

Or worse—would the child inherit both of their possessiveness?

The thought makes your skin crawl.

But the fear doesn’t end there.

Because it’s not just about the baby, is it?

It’s about you.

About how they’ve already carved themselves so deeply into your soul that you can’t even imagine a world without them. You hate that truth. Hate the way it festers inside you, a bitter root growing into every part of you.

You hate Satoru’s smirk when he strides into the estate after a mission, brushing off the exhaustion and blood as if it’s nothing. How he towers over you, his white hair catching the light in a way that seems almost ethereal, his fingers tilting your chin up with a mock tenderness that makes your breath catch.

You hate how he always knows exactly what to say to make you crumble, his voice dipping into that teasing lilt that makes your heart flutter in spite of yourself.

And Suguru—oh, you hate how he lingers. How his touch lingers. His hands are always warm, always deliberate, tracing paths across your skin as if he’s claiming you, piece by piece. Every stroke of his fingers feels like a silent reminder that you are his, that you belong to him. His voice, low and soothing, is a cruel contradiction—a balm against your nerves, even when his words are laced with quiet threats you pretend not to hear.

You hate them.

You hate the way they consume you, the way they’ve woven themselves into the fabric of your life so tightly that even your thoughts feel tangled in their presence.

And yet, as you sit in the vast, lonely expanse of the Gojo estate, the weight of your belly grounding you, you know the truth.

You’re not just afraid of the baby looking like them.

You’re afraid of what that child will mean.

Because if they look like Satoru, with his arrogance, his fire, his brilliance, how will you deny the pride swelling in your chest? How will you stop yourself from feeling that flicker of awe, even when you know you shouldn’t?

And if they look like Suguru, with his quiet strength, his steadfast devotion, how will you deny the love? How will you stop yourself from melting beneath those familiar eyes, from imagining them crinkling with joy or softening with affection?

You can’t.

And that's horrifying.

You won’t be able to ignore how Satoru has changed, how he’s become softer, more attentive in ways that make it harder to hold onto your resentment. How he lingers closer to you than he ever did before, as if the mere distance between you might undo something fragile inside him.

How he’s started resting his head in your lap as you sit together in the serene gardens, his white hair catching the sunlight like spun silk, almost ethereal. His long lashes cast soft shadows over his cheeks as his half-lidded gaze flickers up to meet yours, brimming with a tenderness you don’t know how to process.

He murmurs lazy words of affection, his voice low and warm, the kind of sweetness that drips like honey and sticks to your skin. His fingers trace absentminded circles on your thighs, soft patterns that feel far too intimate, far too easy.

And you hate how much you crave it.

You hate the way his presence soothes something raw inside you, even when you tell yourself it shouldn’t.

You hate how he’s begun helping you with the small, intimate things you wish you could keep to yourself. Like the unbearable ache in your swollen breasts, the pressure building so much it leaves you trembling, whimpering in pain. How he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even ask.

The way Satoru's lips wrap around you with loud, deliberate suckles, the sound echoing in the quiet as he eases the pressure with almost clinical precision. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t falter. His hands grip your hips to steady you, his thumbs pressing reassuring circles into your skin.

You hate the sound.

You hate the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way it prickles, a constant reminder of just how close he always is—too close.

When he’s finished, he pulls back with a satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your collarbone with a lingering kiss. His voice low, almost tender, as he murmurs, “I love this version of you.”

The words settle into you like stones. His lips, still soft from the milk, press against yours, and the faint sweetness lingers, almost cloying. Satoru murmurs more words—gentle, saccharine things that would feel kind if not for the way his hands start to roam as they wrap around your waist.

“How nurturing you’ve become,” he whispers, his tone carrying a dangerous sort of reverence.

That’s what he loves. That’s what he says.

And the way he looks at you when he says it—those bright blue eyes glinting with something dark, something that sinks its claws into you—makes your skin crawl. Because you know exactly what he means.

He doesn’t love the nurturing in and of itself. He loves how it ties you to him. How it binds you to this role, this life, this carefully constructed world where you are his and only his.

The version of you he loves is one that has no room for defiance, no space for resistance—only the space to give, to sacrifice, to bend under the weight of his love.

And that’s what makes it so much worse.

Because even as you hate it, even as your stomach churns and your skin prickles, there’s a part of you that leans into his touch. A part of you that longs for the softness, for the fleeting moments when it feels like love instead of control.

And you hate yourself for that, too

Because you know how it goes. You’ve seen it now. Lived it.

How one pregnancy ends and another begins.

The cycle repeated itself after your firstborn, didn’t it? Barely a year after you gave birth, they had you pregnant again. You didn’t even have time to recover, to heal, before they decided it was time for another.

But they love you, don’t they?

Satoru’s affection is impossible to miss—the way he grins at you, almost childlike, as he cups your face with hands that can destroy worlds but hold you as though you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched. How he showers you with gifts, flowers in every shade imaginable, rare treasures that sparkle as brightly as his endless energy.

How many times has he told you, in his low, teasing voice, “You’re my world, you know that? I could do anything, have anything—but none of it would matter without you.”

It sounds like love, doesn’t it?

And Suguru—Suguru loves you too, in his quiet, steady way. You see it in the way he watches you, his dark eyes softening when you enter the room, the weight of his gaze feels suffocating. He’s the one who stays calm when you cry, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

And you believe him, don’t you?

They love you. That’s why they insist on keeping you close. Why Satoru kisses your forehead every morning, why Suguru runs his fingers through your hair as he whispers sweet nothings you’re too exhausted to resist. That’s why they ensure you’re taken care of, why they never let you lift a finger, why they promise they’ll always protect you.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Satoru once said, kissing your swollen belly as he grinned up at you. “Just stay here with us. That’s all we need.”

“It’s not just for us,” Suguru added, his voice softer, more measured. “It’s for you too. We want you to feel safe. Loved.”

And in moments like that, when the weight of their words settles in your chest like a lullaby, you almost believe them.

You tell yourself that no one else would love you this much. No one else would care for you so completely, so unconditionally—because this is love, isn’t it?

The maids barely acknowledged your struggles. Their gazes were cold, dismissive, even as your body ached and your mind screamed for reprieve. They would gently pry your child from your arms with hushed whispers.

“You need more rest,” they’d say, their voices soft but unyielding. “We’ll take care of them. Don’t worry.”

And what could you do? You’d watch helplessly as they carried your baby away, leaving you empty-handed, empty-hearted. As if you were nothing more than a vessel, an incubator meant to bear and birth heirs for the Gojo family.

Your firstborn was a boy.

A son.

An heir.

He looked just like Satoru.

Those piercing blue eyes stared back at you from his tiny, cherubic face, wide and curious, already holding a glint of brilliance and confidence you couldn’t deny. His hair was the same stark white, impossibly soft beneath your trembling fingers as you brushed it back, memorizing every perfect strand. Even the little smirk he gave in his sleep mirrored Satoru’s—a playful, almost mocking curl at the corners of his mouth that made your heart ache with emotions you couldn’t unravel.

You loved him.

You hated that you loved him.

And when Suguru would cradle him in his arms, his dark eyes soft and filled with a devotion that seemed to crack the carefully constructed walls around your heart, you couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in your chest. He’d whisper promises to the child—vows of protection and guidance.

When Satoru would swoop in, effortlessly spinning the boy around with an energy that filled the room with light, the sound of your son’s uncontrollable laughter echoing like music, that warmth would return. It would swell in your chest, suffocating and undeniable, a cruel reminder of the chains you wore willingly and unwillingly all at once.

This is what they wanted, wasn’t it?

This is what they’d planned all along.

And now, with another child growing inside you, you realize something that terrifies you more than anything else.

You’re not sure if you stayed because you had no choice.

Or because you wanted to.

Again, it’s all your fault.

For trying to run, again.

For thinking, just for a moment, that you could escape them.

You were far too pregnant. Belly too far swollen, body heavy and slow, every step a reminder of how deeply tethered you were to this vast estate. But the thought wouldn’t leave your mind. The desperate hope of freedom burned too brightly, too wildly, even as your body betrayed you.

Even as you were dragged back to that sickening place, back to the people that you convinced yourself—desperately, foolishly—that this was love.

You’d screamed at Suguru, the words spilling out like a torrent you couldn’t stop. You told him the child was yours too, that you had the right to hold them, to sleep in the same room, to be more than a vessel. Your voice cracked, raw with frustration and desperation, as you hurled your defiance at him.

You remember the way his gaze darkened.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. That wasn’t Suguru’s way.

Instead, he stepped closer, his movements slow, calculated, as though he were approaching a frightened animal. He tilted his head, his expression calm, disarming, the warmth in his dark eyes a stark contrast to the undercurrent of control they held.

“You’re upset,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears streaking your face. “And that’s okay. You’ve been through so much, haven’t you?”

The quiet warmth in Suguru's voice made it hard to breathe, made the frustration clawing at your throat turn to something else—something like shame.

“You need to calm down,” he continued, a warm calloused hand slipping down to cradle the side of your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t want you to hurt us.”

His words lingered, heavy with meaning, as he pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “But I love you. We love you. Everything we do—everything I do—is for you.”

You wanted to push him away, to scream that it wasn’t love, that this wasn’t love. But as his arms wrapped around you, strong and unyielding, pulling you into his embrace as though Suguru could shield you from the very world they had trapped you in.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, soft lips brushing your temple. “Don’t you see that? You don’t need to run. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you.”

A voice that was so tender, so achingly sincere, that it almost broke you. Suguru's words were enough to extinguish the fire of defiance burning in your chest, to leave you standing there, trembling and helpless in his arms.

The maids saw it, didn’t they? They whispered about you, their quiet voices slipping through the halls like ghosts. They called you ungrateful. Sick. They said you didn’t understand how fortunate you were.

“You should be enjoying this,” they murmured, their words laced with thinly veiled judgment. “No responsibilities, no struggles. A carefree life. Everything is taken care of for you. What more could you want?”

What more could you want?

No choices.

That’s what they meant, wasn’t it? No choices. No freedom. No you.

Was something wrong with you? Maybe.

Maybe there was something wrong with wanting more. For wanting to feel like a person again, instead of a vessel, a doll, a beautifully dressed incubator meant to carry their legacy.

It really is all your fault, isn’t it?

Because when labor came, it dragged you into hell.

Thirty-three grueling hours. Each contraction ripped through your body like a punishment, an unrelenting reminder of every fleeting thought of rebellion, of every moment you dared to imagine a life beyond them.

The emergency c-section was chaos—a flurry of hands, sterile lights, and voices rising above the incessant ringing in your ears. You were losing too much blood. Fever scorched your skin, your body trembling as the edges of the world blurred, your thoughts slipping between consciousness and darkness.

You couldn’t make sense of what was happening. You weren’t even sure whose tears streaked your skin as they fell—were they yours? Satoru’s? Suguru’s?

You didn’t know.

You didn’t know what happened after that.

All you remember are the words.

Suguru’s voice, low and steady, cutting through the haze. He leaned close, his hand resting on your clammy cheek with an almost painful tenderness. His dark eyes bore into yours, soft yet heavy with something that made your stomach twist.

“You shouldn’t have run,” he whispered. His tone was calm, soothing even, but the edge beneath it was sharp enough to draw blood. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself. You should’ve listened.”

And for a long time, you didn’t have the strength to argue.

The days that followed blurred together. Feeling like a ghost in your body, too weak to move, too tired to speak. Satoru and Suguru hovered, their gazes flickering between concern and something you couldn't quite place. The maids continued to whisper on with their rumors, their eyes darting to you with pity or disdain, as though you’d done this to yourself.

In their eyes, you were lucky.

Lucky to have survived. Lucky to have them.

And lucky, in their eyes, to not have another pregnancy until your first two boys turned five.

Five years of peace. Or something that resembled it.

Five years of watching your sons grow, of hearing their first words, of feeling their small, warm arms wrap around you as they giggled into into your neck. Five years where it was almost believable that this was normal, where you could almost convince yourself this was love.

Because it did feel like love, didn’t it?

Until the day you overheard Suguru speaking to them.

His voice was hushed, but not hushed enough.

“Mommy is sick,” he said, tone calm and soothing like he was explaining a simple fact of life. “Sometimes she says things she doesn’t mean. Sometimes she gets confused. But that’s okay. We love her, don’t we?”

A pang sent through your chest, breath catching as you froze in the hallway. Those cruel words lies carved like knives, each one slicing deeper than the last.

He was planting seeds, wasn’t he?

Teaching them to see you the way he wanted them to see you. Fragile. Dependent. Broken.

However with fists clenched, nails pressing into palms with a sting sharp enough to ground the swirling emotions within. The urge to scream hovered at the edge, to cry and storm into the room, demanding explanations with the desperation of a cornered animal. Words burned on the tip of the tongue—protests that it wasn’t true, that sickness and confusion weren’t the chains binding this existence.

But what would they believe?

Suguru’s steady, patient voice, rich and even, always laced with quiet authority? The father whose dark eyes always seemed to understand everything, who carried himself with calm, unshakable control, even when his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes?

Or you?

The mother who had tried to run, who had collapsed and bled and screamed, who had been scolded for her defiance. The one they saw as weak, frail, and ungrateful.

You wanted to run again. The thought burned in the back of your mind, relentless and wild.

But you didn’t.

You stayed.

Because, in the end, what choice did you really have?

But by the time your third child—a sweet boy who looked like a perfect blend of you and Suguru—turned three, the illusion of peace began to crack.

Suguru was already leaning close, his voice soft and coaxing as he murmured into your ear, “I think it’s time we try for a girl.”

Satoru, of course, was on board almost immediately.

After all, your third child was different. A nonsorcerer, just like you, showing none of the abilities your first two boys possessed. Those two had cried in the dead of night, their small voices trembling with fear as they described the horrors only they could see—things you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But that wasn’t why your husbands looked at Kiyoshi with quiet disapproval.

It wasn’t his lack of cursed energy that made them see him as an anomaly.

It was his heart.

From the moment Kiyoshi was placed in your arms, red-faced and wailing, he clung to you with a desperation that never faded. He didn’t want the maids to hold him, didn’t toddle after Suguru’s composed steps or reached for Satoru’s strong arms. He wanted you. Always you.

He was a mama’s boy through and through, and that was love.

A love so pure it felt like a lifeline in the suffocating world you’d been forced into.

While you loved your first two boys deeply—how could you not?—there was always a distance there, a reflection of the walls your husbands had built around you. The first two cuddled into your lap, their small hands clutching yours as they whispered things that broke you.

“Mommy, we want you to get better.” “We don’t like it when you yell at Daddy to let you leave.”

They were too young to understand, too innocent to see the chains tightening around you.

But Kiyoshi understood, in his own way. Even as a toddler, he refused to leave your side, refused to let the maids or his fathers pull him from your arms. He was always on your hip, his little hand clutching your clothes, his head resting against your chest.

“Kiyoshi,” Satoru had said once, his tone laced with false amusement, “means ‘pure sadness.’ Don’t you think that’s fitting?”

He smiled as if it were a joke, but you could hear the bitterness beneath it.

And maybe it was fitting.

Because Kiyoshi only stopped wailing when he was in your arms, as if he already knew the world outside of you was too cruel, too cold.

By the time he turned three, Kiyoshi would toddle after you in the gardens, small, sturdy legs working hard to keep up. His face—a blend of Suguru’s gentleness and your warmth—would brighten with the purest smile. When his eyes crinkled at the corners, just like yours, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell.

“Look, Mommy!” he’d say, holding up a flower he’d plucked from the garden, his tiny fingers dirt-stained and clumsy. “For you!”

You’d crouch down, brushing his dark hair back as you took the flower, your voice soft and tender in a way you hadn’t heard in years.

“Thank you, my sweet boy.”

And for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Like you could breathe again.

But you knew better.

As the sound of approaching footsteps always shattered moments like these. Heavy and far too familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Suguru.

His softspoken voice broke the fragile silence, calm and even, as always. “Kiyoshi,” he said, warm and affectionate, though laced with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’ve been keeping your mother all to yourself again, haven’t you?”

Kiyoshi stiffened at your side, the little hand tightening its grip on your kimono as he glanced nervously toward Suguru.

Suguru stepped closer and crouched down to Kiyoshi’s level, dark eyes softening as they met his son’s. “Come here, son,” he murmured, holding out a hand. His tone was gentle, coaxing, but there was an unspoken expectation beneath it. “Let Daddy hold you for a little while. I’ve missed you.”

But Kiyoshi didn’t move. His small fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your kimono, his face pressing into your side as though trying to make himself small, invisible.

Suguru’s gaze flicked to you, lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So shy,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of amused affection. “But you don’t have to be, Kiyoshi. Daddy just wants to hold you. You know that, don’t you?”

You felt your heart clench, torn between the instinct to shield him and the weight of Suguru’s presence. The tenderness in his tone, in the way his hand remained outstretched, made it all the harder to breathe.

“Kiyoshi,” Suguru said again, his voice dipping into a firmer edge, calm but unyielding. “Come.”

Reluctantly, your little boy let go of you, his steps slow and hesitant as he moved toward his father. Suguru’s smile widened, soft and reassuring, as he scooped Kiyoshi up effortlessly, cradling him with a gentleness that felt too deliberate, too controlled.

“There’s my good boy,” he murmured, brushing Kiyoshi’s hair back with careful fingers. His touch lingered, as though committing the texture to memory. “You love your mommy very much, don’t you?”

Kiyoshi nodded silently, his small face burying itself in Suguru’s shoulder.

Suguru’s gaze lifted to meet yours, a gentle smile, his tone almost playful. “You’ve spoiled him,” he said, a note of amusement threading through his words. “He’s too attached.”

You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but the words caught in your throat.

What could you say?

That you were the only warmth in a world that terrified him? That his attachment wasn’t a flaw, but a desperate grasp at something safe?

Satoru appeared not long after, his presence impossible to ignore as he strolled into the garden, hands in his pockets and a grin that seemed too bright for the moment. His eyes, however, betrayed something softer—something that lingered only when they landed on you.

“Kiyoshi giving you trouble again?” Satoru's voice came out light, tinged with curiosity.

“No trouble,” Suguru replied smoothly, a hand still resting on Kiyoshi’s small back. “Just a little too fond of his mother.”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head as he moved closer. His cerulean gaze flicked briefly to Kiyoshi before returning to you, that playful grin softening as he moved to brush a kiss against your temple. “Well, can you blame him?” he murmured, his voice low, meant only for you. “You’re hard not to love.”

The warmth of his affection made your heart twist, and your stomach flutter. For a moment, it was easy to forget the way his words often carried double meanings, easy to believe he was simply being sweet.

He straightened, turning his attention back to Suguru with a teasing smile. “But we’ll fix that soon enough, won’t we?”

They didn’t mean to hurt him, you told yourself. They wouldn’t.

But you knew better.

Because Kiyoshi was different. He didn’t fit into their world the way your first two boys did. And in their eyes, difference was something to be controlled.

For now, they let him cling to you. They let him toddle after you in the garden, offering flowers and dirt-streaked smiles that made your heart ache with both love and dread. For now, they allowed him to stay close, to hold onto the warmth you gave him, to believe he was safe in your arms.

But you knew it was only a matter of time.

Because your sons didn’t belong to you. Not really. They never had.

And no matter how much you wanted to shield Kiyoshi, no matter how fiercely you loved him, you knew one simple, devastating truth:

They’d let you have this for now.

But they would take him, too.

Because, after all, it’s all your fault.

For fleeing in the middle of the night.

The day was supposed to be perfect—a rare moment where Satoru and Suguru had taken the older two boys to the school, their voices filled with excitement as they promised to teach them more about the world they were destined to inherit. Your sweet boys kissed you goodbye with a tenderness that felt almost cruel, leaving you behind with Kiyoshi in the quiet, sprawling estate.

You had been on your best behavior. Smiling more, laughing when Satoru teased you, letting Suguru hold you a little longer than usual. You’d made them believe you were finally settling, finally accepting your role in their carefully constructed world.

And it worked.

So when the sun set and the house fell silent, you made your move.

You bundled Kiyoshi up in the softest blanket you could find, the small body warm and sleepy against your chest. He stirred only slightly as you slipped out of the estate, his tiny hands clutching onto your clothes.

He didn’t cry.

He didn’t make a sound.

It was as if he understood. As if even at three years old, he knew that silence was the only thing keeping you safe.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his soft breaths warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes.

The highway stretched out before you, an endless black ribbon under the faint glow of the moon. The lights of the city sparkled in the distance, a beacon of hope, a promise of sanctuary.

You walked for miles, the cold night air biting at your skin, legs aching with every step. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not with the faint echoes of paranoia whispering at the back of your mind.

Were they already looking for you? Did Satoru sense you slipping away even from miles away? Did Suguru wake in the middle of the night with the suffocating weight of intuition, already calling for their forces to track you down?

You didn’t know.

And you didn’t care.

The city limits were closer now, the glow of neon lights growing brighter, sharper. The faint hum of life and sound buzzed in the distance.

Kiyoshi stirred in your arms, his little head lifting just enough to peek out at the world around him. His dark eyes, so much like Suguru’s but filled with an innocence his father could no longer claim, glanced up at you with quiet curiosity.

“Mommy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the soft hum of the wind.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your tears wetting his soft hair. “We’re almost there, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice trembling under the weight of hope and fear. “Just a little farther.”

Sanctuary was so close you could taste it.

But it’s all your fault, isn’t it?

Born a nonsorcerer.

Blind to the horrors that lurk unseen. Powerless to fight them off. Too weak to keep that sweet little boy safe.

You always imagined curses as massive, grotesque creatures—monsters so obvious that the very air would change in their presence. That the world would stop, that everything would smell of death and decay as they loomed closer.

But when a curse appears, nothing changes.

There’s no warning. No shift in the wind.

The only thing you feel is the sudden weight of your child going limp in your arms.

And then the blood.

And then the blood.

It coats the ground—dark and endless, pooling around your knees and seeping into the cracks of the earth. Sticky and warm, it clings to trembling hands, staining your kimono, your skin, your very soul.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Your little boy—your Kiyoshi—lies limp in your arms, his small body growing colder with every agonizing second. Tiny fingers, once so eager to cling to you, now dangle lifelessly. His dark lashes rest softly against pale cheeks, unmoving.

He looks like he’s sleeping.

You tell yourself that, over and over, as if saying it enough times will somehow make it true. Shaking hands brush back his dark hair, trembling as you whisper his name. Softly at first, then louder, your voice splintering with every syllable.

“Kiyoshi… wake up, baby. Please.”

But nothing changes.

The world around you feels wrong—too quiet, too still. The city lights in the distance mock you, their glow a cruel reminder of the sanctuary you’d been so close to reaching. You’d promised him, hadn’t you? Promised that everything would be okay. That you’d make it there. That you’d keep him safe.

You lied.

“Kiyoshi,” you choke out again, pressing a desperate kiss to his cooling forehead. Hot tears streak down your face, wetting his soft hair as you clutch him tighter, as though you could anchor him to you—keep him here, with you.

A wail tears through the night, raw and broken, shattering the oppressive silence. The sound is unrecognizable, guttural and full of despair. It takes a moment before you realize it’s coming from you.

The blood stains everything—your hands, your clothes, the ground—but it’s the loss of his warmth that destroys you.

How did this happen?

Your mind races, replaying the moments in broken fragments. You’d been walking, your legs aching, his small body cradled against your chest. He’d been so quiet, so trusting, his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You were almost there.

Then the air shifted—just slightly—a subtle wrongness you hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

You didn’t see it.

You didn’t even know it was there until his body jerked in your arms, a sharp, unnatural movement that stole his breath—and yours.

And then he went limp.

It doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.

You rock him back and forth, tears falling freely, your voice hoarse as you beg him to wake up. Leaning to press your cheek against his, murmuring his name over and over, as if the sound alone could bring him back.

Because you failed him.

Because this is your fault.

Suguru’s arms wrap around you, their weight unbearable. His warmth presses against the chill of the night, suffocating in a way that makes the air harder to pull into your lungs. He cradles you like something precious, something fragile—like he cares, even as his words twist the knife deeper into your chest.

“We’ll take care of this, just like always,” he says, his voice soft, almost gentle. His lips brush against your hair, lingering, and the tenderness in the gesture makes your skin crawl. “You just need to stop fighting us. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Satoru stood frozen, head bowed, white hair catching the faint glow of the city lights. Kiyoshi’s lifeless body was pressed tightly against him, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he held him close. For a moment, you thought you saw something crack in his expression—something raw, something human.

But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

When he finally turned his gaze to you, his blue eyes were as hollow as you’d ever seen them. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual teasing lilt. “Why couldn’t you just stay?”

The question stabbed deeper than you thought possible, the shame and guilt coursing through you like poison.

Why couldn’t you just stay?

The image of Kiyoshi’s bright smile flashed, his tiny hands offering you flowers from the garden, his laugh ringing out like music in the suffocating silence of the estate. He’d been your light, your tether to something good.

And now he was gone.

Because of you.

You sagged further into Suguru’s hold, the fight draining out of you entirely. The tears wouldn’t stop, falling silently now, soaking into the front of Suguru’s shirt as he held you tighter.

“There, there,” he murmured, his hand stroking your hair in slow, deliberate motions. “That’s better. You don’t have to fight anymore. We’ll make it right.”

But there was no right in this.

The car waited nearby, its door open like an unspoken command. Suguru’s grip on you didn’t waver as he began guiding you toward it, his movements gentle but unrelenting. Satoru followed behind, cradling Kiyoshi’s small form like he was made of glass.

Your legs moved on instinct, numb and heavy, the metallic scent of blood lingering in the air.

The city lights grew fainter as the car doors shut behind you, locking you away from the world you’d been so close to reaching.

You told yourself you’d tried. That you’d done everything you could.

But deep down, you knew.

You’d never escape them.

And as Suguru’s fingers intertwined with yours, as Satoru’s empty gaze lingered on the horizon, you realized something that hollowed you out completely.

It wasn’t just that you had nothing left.

It was that you no longer cared to try.

It really was all your fault.

[theunsinkableship1]

Lukolaship: Why are you here?

I have one simple question for you: Why are you here?

If you’re a fan of Nicola or Luke individually, there’s no reason to be so deeply invested in their private lives. Supporting them as actors and celebrating their professional achievements should be enough. If your goal is to see them happy in life, you could simply assume they are, because nothing publicly suggests otherwise. Why concern yourself with what others think about their personal lives? Focus on your own and sleep peacefully at night.

Here, however, we are focused. We are here for a specific purpose, and that purpose is rooted in a belief in the bond between Nicola and Luke as a duo. We don’t ship them with just anyone, nor do we treat this connection as trivial. We see something rare and precious that transcends the superficial dynamics often seen elsewhere.

We believe they are uniquely compatible in every way professionally, personally, and emotionally. As they’ve described themselves, they are very similar, and their connection is something that doesn’t come easily. It’s not the kind of bond you let slip away without a fight.

If you don’t share the belief that the best foundation for their love is friendship, then it’s worth asking yourself what you’re doing in this space. Because staying here while harboring doubt or skepticism will only lead to frustration, disappointment, or even resentment. And why put yourself through that?

Of course, this is a space open for discussion, but we must acknowledge that engaging in conversations centered on ideas completely opposed to what we’re collectively rooting for is both unnecessary and counterproductive.

This space is for those of us who see, believe, and hope. For those who recognize something special when they see it and want to nurture that belief, even from afar. If you don’t share these wishes and expectations, perhaps this isn’t the place for you and that’s okay.

But here, we celebrate, support, and believe in something extraordinary. If that resonates with you, welcome. If not, it’s best to part ways now to save yourself and others unnecessary grief.

I want to start by emphasizing that I don’t know the truth in this situation. I don’t know these people personally, so I can’t claim to speak for their reality or their intentions. What I have are beliefs and speculations based on the reality they have chosen to present to us. And among all these uncertainties, one belief stands unshaken: they belong together. That belief is the cornerstone of my presence in this corner of the internet.

Now, let me clarify I’m not opposed to the idea of Lukola being in relationships with other people. They could very well be in relationships with entirely different people, and we wouldn’t have any way of knowing.Life is complex, and these things can happen. Nor am I opposed to the idea that they might already be together but keeping it private. In fact, that’s the outcome I’m openly hoping for.

The truth is, either theory whether they are in other relationships or together in secret is just that: a theory. Speculations woven from bits of information and perception, none of which constitute definitive proof. I resist accepting either scenario at face value because, frankly, this story isn’t straightforward. There are too many inconsistencies, too much plausible deniability, and far too many coincidences for it to be simple.

Some individuals are actively seeking out this space, a niche corner of the internet that is not easily found unless you are deliberately looking for it solely to challenge the idea of Lukola being real. They argue that it’s all just PR and treat the very notion of their connection as if it’s utterly impossible or absurd. What’s puzzling is the intensity with which they dismiss it, often acting as though the mere suggestion of Lukola’s reality is offensive or preposterous.

This behavior raises several questions: Why does the idea of Lukola trigger such strong reactions? Why do these critics go out of their way to invade a space they fundamentally disagree with? A psychological phenomenon like reactance might offer some insight.

Reactance is a reaction to perceived threats to autonomy. When people see others confidently supporting a theory or belief they don’t share, they might feel compelled to push back, not necessarily because they have concrete evidence against it, but because they view it as an encroachment on their sense of "truth."

What’s even more contradictory is that these critics often engage in behaviors strikingly similar to those they criticize. They comb through interviews, scrutinize body language, and form conclusions all while claiming to be grounded in “realism.” If Lukola isn’t real and this space is so misguided, why invest so much energy here? The truth is, some of these individuals may be grappling with their own unspoken doubts or insecurities about the narrative and find it easier to ridicule others than to explore those feelings honestly.

Ultimately, this space is built on a foundation of speculation, patterns, and observed dynamics not absolute certainty. If the concept of Lukola is so untenable to someone, perhaps they should question why they feel so compelled to disprove it rather than simply disengaging. This kind of behavior only underscores the uniqueness of what’s being defended here. Why else would they care so much ?

This brings me to what I believe is happening with certain Lukola shippers who react under the guise of pragmatism and so-called reality. When the facts are murky and there’s no concrete proof one way or the other, it’s natural to feel uncertainty. But for some, the fear of being wrong of committing to a belief that might not hold up pushes them toward the opposite stance. It’s a kind of cognitive dissonance avoidance or fear-based contrarianism. Rather than risk the emotional discomfort of being wrong, they align themselves with a narrative that feels safer because it seems more grounded in realism, even if it goes against what they truly want.

But this reaction isn’t as rational as it appears. By clinging to the guise of pragmatism, they often ignore the layers of meaning, patterns, and behaviors that suggest this situation isn’t as clear-cut as it might seem. They risk dismissing the extraordinary connection that brought us here in the first place, the looks, the smiles, the synchronicity, and the undeniable intimacy.

What’s unsettling, however, is the behavior of certain non-believers. Some have started attacking others, calling them delusional or crazy for holding onto their beliefs. What’s ironic and frankly hypocritical is that many of these people were doing the exact same thing not long ago. They were analyzing smiles, interpreting body language, and weaving narratives just like the rest of us.

Psychologically, this could be explained by reaction formation, a defense mechanism where individuals suppress emotions or beliefs, they are uncomfortable with and adopt an exaggerated opposite stance. For example, someone who once believed in Lukola but feels betrayed or disillusioned may go to great lengths to ridicule others who still believe, as a way to distance themselves from their former vulnerability.

Another phenomenon at play is projection. Those who call others delusional may actually be projecting their own internal conflict and doubts. It’s easier to label someone else as "crazy" than to confront the discomfort of one’s own cognitive dissonance.

Finally, there’s the bandwagon effect. When a few vocal individuals start asserting that believing in Lukola is irrational, others may follow suit to align themselves with what appears to be the majority opinion. This creates a cycle where dissenting voices are silenced or shamed, even though everyone in this fandom is ultimately speculating and interpreting limited information.

It’s not just hypocritical but it’s unkind as well to attack others for believing in something extraordinary. We are all here because we were drawn to the same connection, the same magic that transcends the mundane. Whether you still believe or have chosen to step away, there’s no need to tear others down.

The truth remains elusive, and it’s okay to admit that we don’t know everything. What’s not okay is to dismiss or ridicule the hope, joy, and creativity that others bring to this space. What is absolutely unacceptable is harassing Lukola, their friends, or their families online simply because they aren’t aligning with or reinforcing our preferred narrative. Such behavior crosses the line from passionate support into harmful intrusion, and it reflects poorly on this community as a whole.

We must remember that Nicola and Luke are real people with lives, relationships, and choices that extend far beyond what we observe or speculate about. Their friends and family are not all public figures and certainly not part of this fandom discourse. Dragging them into the conversation or pressuring them to validate a narrative diminishes the respect and admiration this space claims to hold for the pair.

Moreover, harassing anyone be it directly through comments or indirectly through insinuations and speculation achieves nothing. It doesn’t bring clarity or truth; it only fuels division and hostility. This behavior contradicts the very foundation of why many of us are here.

If anything, such actions could damage the very dynamic we cherish. It creates an atmosphere of distrust and negativity that might push them to withdraw further from public interactions or force them into making statements or actions they wouldn’t naturally take.

As fans, we must hold ourselves to a higher standard. Our actions should reflect kindness, respect, and understanding, not entitlement or hostility.

Let’s remember why we’re here and not go overboard, this ship is rare and beautiful, even if its true nature isn’t yet fully revealed. Until clarity comes, let’s choose kindness and patience over judgment.

In conclusion, we are not required to take a definitive stance right now. There’s wisdom in waiting, observing, and letting the truth unfold in its own time. For me, this isn’t about being right or wrong. It’s about honoring the belief that their bond is rare and worth rooting for, whether the evidence for it is subtle or glaring. Until clarity comes, I will continue to hold space for the possibility that love complicated, layered, and extraordinary is at the heart of this story.

[shybluebirdninja]

The Last Drop

Summary: As you breastfeed the baby you had with Scott, Logan’s teasing becomes irresistible, leading to a lust-filled night where your commitment to Scott is put to the ultimate test.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x F!Reader (she is Scott Summer’s wife)

Note                : Infidelity and cheating, breast-milk drinking, smut

In the dim light of the nursery, the gentle hum of a lullaby fills the air, blending with the soft sound of your baby nursing at your breast. You sit comfortably in the rocking chair, the warmth and intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. Your heart races slightly as you catch sight of Logan leaning against the doorframe, his jaw tight and his eyes dark with desire.

“Is it just me, or does it get hot in here?” he teases, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You can’t help but laugh softly, feeling a flush rise in your cheeks. Logan has always had that effect on you—a mix of danger and allure that leaves you breathless.

“You’re not supposed to be in here, Logan,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you glance at the sleeping baby in your arms. Scott would definitely disapprove.

He steps closer, his eyes flicking down to the baby before returning to your face. “What’s the harm? Just two friends... catching up,” he says, his tone smooth and teasing.

As if drawn by an invisible force, Logan settles into the chair next to you. The proximity is electric, and your body reacts instinctively, heart pounding as he leans in. You can see the hunger in his eyes, the way he looks at you as if you’re the only thing that matters in that moment.

“What if I want to join in on the fun?” he says, his voice low and sultry. You swallow hard, feeling a rush of heat pool in your stomach at his words.

You let out a shaky breath, lost in the intensity of his gaze. “You’re such a bad influence,” you said, but the smile that crept onto your face betrayed the thrill of excitement coursing through you.

“Bad? I’m just what you need,” he replied, lips curling into a smirk. “Now, where were we?”

Without thinking, a small smirk spreading across your face. “You want to try it?” The question hangs in the air, charged with possibility.

Logan’s expression shifts, a mix of surprise and excitement crossing his features. “I mean, how could I resist? You make it look too damn good,” he replies, his tone playful but laced with genuine interest.

You’re caught off guard by how alluring his words are, how easily he shifts the dynamics between you two. With a daring flick of your wrist, you guide him closer. “Just don’t get any ideas about sharing this with Scott,” you say, teasingly serious.

He chuckles, leaning in closer as he watches you nurse. “Trust me, this is just between us,” he murmurs, his voice thick with promise.

The air thickens as you lift the fabric of your shirt just enough to reveal more of your breast. Logan’s eyes darken further, a primal hunger igniting within them. He swallows hard, his gaze locked on your breasts as if they are the most intoxicating sight he’s ever seen.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, leaning in. You feel the heat radiating from him, the raw desire making it hard to breathe. He hesitates for a moment, glancing at the baby before returning his focus on you.

“Just a little taste?” he asks, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

Your breath hitches as you nod, overwhelmed by the thrill of this taboo moment. Logan leans forward, his warm breath brushing against your skin as he takes your nipple into his mouth. The sensation sends shockwaves through you, mixing pleasure and the rush of your daring decision.

He looks up at you, eyes filled with mischief and lust. “Damn, this is better than I imagined,” he murmurs, his voice thick with longing.

You can’t help but let out a soft gasp, the sensations blending into a haze of desire. “Logan, this is... dangerous,” you manage to say, but the words feel hollow against the reality of your connection.

“Exactly,” he replies, his voice low and sultry as he continues to drink from you, each pull deepening the bond between you two. “You’ve got the best damn milk I’ve ever tasted.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the boldness of his words igniting a fire deep within you. The way he continue to drink you breast milk, like you were the only thing that mattered, was overwhelming. “Logan…”

“Fucking hell, this is better than I thought,” he murmured against your nipple, eyes flickering with delight. “I could get used to this.”

“Logan,” you moaned, fingers gripping his hair, urging him closer to your breast, suffocating him in you breast as he moans loudly. “This is so wrong… but I can’t stop.”

“Good,” he replied, eyes dark with desire as he pulled back to look at you, his mouth glistening with your breast milk. “Because I don’t wanna stop either.”

As your heart races and the tension builds, you find yourself lost in the moment, the boundaries of your life with Scott blurring into the background. Logan's mouth on you ignites a fire, one that you know will leave you craving more.

And in that dimly lit room, with your baby peacefully sleeping nearby, you surrender to the desire pulsing between you and Logan, knowing that this moment would change everything.

[featseungmin]

quest complete | bc

bang chan x reader It’s late by the time Chris finally manages to drag himself home. wc: 0.8k genre: domestic fluff warnings: none thanks to @lovetaroandtaemin for the banner 💙 I wrote this at 11pm last night. hope you enjoy

It’s late by the time Chris finally manages to drag himself home. More morning than night, there’s a certain ethereal energy to the night. The beep of the lock as he punches in the code is almost too loud, the jingle of his keys as he places them on the little table in the entry too harsh. It’s a shame to ruin the silence like this, but he’s so tired that there’s nothing he can really do about it. The exhaustion has seeped deep within him, through his muscles and down into the bone. 

He almost feels like he’s crawling through the house, he’s moving so slowly, and when he rounds the corner into the living room, he’s shocked to discover the television is still on. For a second, he thinks that you’ve fallen asleep in front of the tv again in an attempt to wait up for him. There’s a brief moment where he considers just collapsing on the couch beside you. But then his brain catches up, and he realizes that it’s a video game on the screen, not a movie, and that you are, in fact, still awake.

“Jagi?” he asks softly, and his voice sounds hoarse, even to his own ears. 

You tilt your head in his direction, attention dividing automatically between him and your game. “I thought you’d end up sleeping in the studio again,” you admit. 

After a second, you pause your game and reach an arm out to him, beckoning him closer. It would take even less to convince him on a normal day, but right now, his body–his soul–craves your touch, and he’s more than happy to oblige. He hums as you place a delicate kiss to his temple, and there’s a warmth that spreads through him like wildfire.

“What are you doing up still?” he manages to ask. 

Just being beside you is enough to energize him even slightly, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side. You snuggle in almost immediately, getting comfortable against him.

“I’m so close to the next chapter,” you tell him, unpausing your game. Chris knows you’ve been dedicating huge amounts of time to it of late. It’s the remake of one of your favorite games, and he knows you’ve been trying to do all of the side quests. Your character–he knows the guy’s name, but his sleep-addled brain can’t seem to recall it–is atop a giant chicken, running through a desert. “I only had a couple more side quests to do, but then the story kept happening and I dunno.” You laugh softly. “Just got sucked in I guess.”

He hums, resting his head against your own. 

“Sleepy?” You almost sound amused, your hand coming over to squeeze his thigh.

“Little bit. Long day.”

You pause your game again. “We can go to bed. Let me just save and-”

“‘M comfy here,” he tightens his arm ever so slightly, squeezing you against him. “Get to your checkpoint or whatever.”

He likes to watch you play, sometimes. Your games always seem to have these long narratives, he can’t help but be drawn in. Sure, he misses some of the story sometimes, but he’s usually more than happy to spend time with you while you’re playing, and he knows that you don’t mind filling him in with the story bits that he wasn’t around to see.

Except tonight, he’s exhausted. Normally, his insomnia would have no trouble keeping him awake–there’s been more than one night when you’ve stayed up with him, playing one of your games half-asleep and just going through the motions. Tonight, though? He’s exhausted enough that tonight might actually be one of the nights where he miraculously doesn’t need some sort of sleep aid.

For a moment, you lean to the side and look at him. He’s not quite sure what you’re looking for, maybe you’re just generally looking, maybe you’re checking to make sure he’s okay. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because you squeeze his thigh again, patting the inside of his leg gently. You cradle the controller in your hands, arm coming to rest half on your lap, half on his own, and you settle back into the game.

It’s sweet, how you try to explain to him the little bit of the story that he’s missed. You’re telling him about how you found the big chicken, and he tries to pay attention. He really does. But you’re so warm, and so soft. And he’s so tired. He can feel himself slipping, his head resting heavier against you as you play.

You hum softly, and he feels your thumb rub gently across his leg where your hand rests. “Good night, my love,” you whisper, soft lips brushing against his cheek.

He falls asleep to the triumphant sounds of a completed quest.

[fancyfeathers]

Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling

So even when Daughter!Darling gets older one of the punishments they still use is making her share or sleep in one of her sibling’s rooms so they can have eyes on her at all times. Most of the time it is Tim or Cassandra, they all are fairly gentle with her and do not overreact to situations most of the time in case she needs to get up in the night.

Damian has too hard of a time to be calm or gentle when he gets upset with her.

Dick gets way to clingy in his sleep, like to the point where she can’t move in the night because he practically squeezing her like a teddy bear, but if she gets sent to Blüdhaven when she has really messed up and has to stay with Dick that is just how it is, though it is better when Barbara is over because she is the one with her arms around her boyfriend’s sister and Dick’s arms are over them both with Daughter!Darling in between them.

Jason gets too many nightmares, dying and being brought back is a traumatic experience he has not fully recovered from and he does not want her to see that side of him.

Stephanie rolls around too much in the night, plus she is almost as clingy as Dick.

Then Duke is a heavy sleeper, having patrol during the day and a thousand other things, he goes to bed before everyone even leaves for their nightly patrol, they have been times where Damian or Bruce has found Daughter!Darling out of the manor because she managed to sneak pass Duke.

But sleeping with Mother!Darling and Bruce is not that bad, Bruce does not get home till late since he is the one normally patrolling the longest every night and his daughter has school in the morning so that’s normally why it is one of her siblings. But when she does end up sleeping by them it is actually nice. Bruce holds his little girl close whenever he has the chance and he holds her like glass because she is nothing like her siblings and he is scared that he’ll break her. But sometimes Bruce has a nightmare in the middle of night, or whenever he sleeps, of something happening to her and just immediately holds her so close to remind himself that she is safe and nothing bad will happen to her.

The thing is this goes on till she’s seventeen or eighteen, it is such a humiliating thing that she has to deal with just because she broke one a rule that wouldn’t even exist for normal people her age and then eventually she runs away because she cannot take it anymore, becoming a vigilante just to prove a point that she is not weak like the painted her out to be.

But then there comes a time where she is wearing that hero’s mask and she gets hurt and does not wake up this time. It was Bruce who found her body first, those nightmares he had when she was younger coming true.

Dick just shatters when he sees Bruce carrying her corpse out of the Batmobile and he can’t even cry because of the overwhelming shock he feels.

Jason, can’t even think, her body sending him back to when he died, she was scared and alone just like him when he was murdered. Tim has to be held back, he wants to hold her, he doesn’t want to accept the fact that she is actually gone, he wouldn’t accept that fact.

Damian is fuming with rage, people have to keep an eye on him to make sure he does not go out there and kill the person who did this to her, and by kill I mean rip limb from limb, leaving them alive while he does so they can know the pain they have caused.

Stephanie just shuts down, falls into a deep depression, unable to eat, sleep, or shower without someone pushing her to do so.

Duke cannot fully process the fact that she is gone and is not coming back, once they learned that she was a vigilante he used to check up on news stories to keep track of how she was doing but he still does when she is gone, only finding stories that are weeks old.

Cassandra and Barbara the ones who keeps everything together, they are grieving, but they know if they just stop everything the bad people and criminals in Gotham who do this sort of thing are just going to get away with it and they may have not been able to save her from what happened but they will be damned if they cannot stop it again.

[s0fter-sin]

what up i’ve been obsessed with would you fall in love with me again like every other person on the planet and i can’t stop thinking about penelope’s final verse

she’s so angry; angry that odysseus would dare to suggest that her love for him has faltered or his actions were enough to destroy it. she’s been waiting, working her fingers raw unweaving her shroud every night, not sleeping as the suitors camp inside her home; every day a threat to her and her son, to her kingdom if an unworthy man - and they are all unworthy - should take the throne. she knew they wouldn’t wait forever, that at some point her deception would be realised; her dedication to her husband means she is at constant risk and the first thing odysseus does when he sees her - if this even is him - is question her love for him?

the very first thing he says (other than her name) is, “i am not the man you fell in love with.” penelope asks him if it’s really him standing there or if she’s “dreaming once more”. once more. she’s felt the cruelty of hope before; has looked at her doorway and seen odysseus the same as when he left (which is probably partly why she’s so shocked by how he actually looks) and felt unfathomable pain when her hopes were dashed over and over again. she asks if he is really her odysseus and he says no

yes, in his mind, odysseus can’t see how he can deserve her love after everything he’s done - the atrocities he’s committed, to himself he isn’t the same man, “i see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it’s no longer you” - but all penelope hears is her husband, the man she loves and waited for, doubts the strength of her love

penelope asks what kind of things he’s done and it must be shocking to hear; his actions so different from the man who left her behind even if he did them in name of returning to her. but when she asks him to move the bed, it’s as much a challenge as it is a test. she’s asking him to prove that he is the monster he claims to be; that if he’s changed so much and become so heartless, he should have no qualms about ripping the symbol of their love from its roots. and it’s also her only way of actually determining if this man who claims to be her husband yet doesn’t take her in his arms, is actually him

“just a moment of labour would bring me some peace” - if he does what she asks, then she will know either he’s changed so much that he’s no longer her odysseus or he’s another fake and was never hers to begin with; that her husband didn’t just stand in front of her and claim she can’t love him as he is. but she’s done. she was already willing to die when she stood behind the twelve axes she challenged the suitors to shoot through. she’s so tired. she just wants it all to be over

“only my husband knew that, so i guess that makes him you” - i guess. even after telling her something only odysseus and her knew, penelope’s still not convinced that it’s truly him. how many men came to her door claiming to be her long lost husband, banking on time and distance to dull memory of his face and voice, on her longing and desperation for odysseus to blind her into believing them?

but if this is her husband? if the man she’s loved through decades of absence has finally returned to her?

“i will fall in love with you over and over again” - an exhausted promise, the core of who penelope is and how she feels; assuaging his doubts and his own clear pain

but

“no matter how long it’s been, you’re mine. don’t tell me you’re not the same person, you’re always my husband” - penelope is screaming at him; how dare odysseus say this to her? dismiss her love and her suffering? he saw the men outside, he’s smart enough to know what they were here for and instead of apologising for being gone for so long, instead of begging for forgiveness for inadvertently putting her and their son at risk, instead of embracing her and putting an end to her torment, odysseus doubts her

“and i’ve been waiting, waiting” - the tone shift of penelope screaming at him to lamenting how long she’s been waiting is heartbreaking; it’s quieter as she gets lost in the pain of her grief, her anger failing as she recalls the memories of her long years of solitude. odysseus tries to call her back with his gentle “penelope” - such a contrast to his own exhausted anger at being asked to destroy their marital bed now that he understands why she asked that of him - but she can’t hear him; she’s too trapped in the memories. he tries again, still gentle but more insistent, and this time she does hear him and her anger comes rushing back along with her grief. her “waiting, waiting,” becomes almost accusatory; she’s been alone for so long and it’s bc of him, bc he wasn’t there, bc he left her waiting

that abrupt “oh” at the end of the verse isn’t just a vocalisation; in that moment, she’s realising that she has realised that he truly is odysseus. she knew it was him before she even processed it. she wouldn’t be this angry if he were anyone else; love and grief and anger coalescing in one single divine moment where penelope finally believes her odysseus has returned to her

“for you” - she’s been waiting and waiting, years turning to dust, her sleepless nights and days spent living in fear and preemptive grief- and it was all for him. odysseus is actually here. which means her waiting is over

“how long has it been?”

“20 years”

“i- i love you”

[call-me-casual]

I’ve been thinking about them so here’s a Scott Tracy [TAG edition] headcanon dump:

1. This is a bit of a retcon of an older headcanon, but Scott is 26 at the start of S1, just at the edge of turning 27, and 29 on the brink of turning 30 at the end of S3. I originally put him as 27, but I will die on the hill that Alan is 17 in S1 based on the uk driving age and I think I’ve seen somewhere that an old magazine or something said the age gap between Alan and Scott was 9 years?

2. Probably not going to be very popular but I headcanon that in the world of TAG, Scott was never in the military or GDF. No bereznik, no nothing. Instead his possible “militaristic” behaviour comes from Jeff’s training and Scott’s tendencies to copy his father.

3. Scott may have the colouring and significant facial features of his father, but actually has a good amount of his mother’s traits, such as his lanky build and personality. He loves his dad dearly and aspires to be like him, but also appreciates the little things his mother gave him that didn’t leave him a simple clone of his dad. He also inherited a few traits from his mother’s side in general.

4. Scott’s behaviour is often him attempting to act like Jeff for the sake of the others. It started as him trying to figure out how to lead, but there was also an underlying factor of him wanting things at home to stay as similar as they could. This is “Commander Scott”, whilst his real personality shines when he banters with his family, expresses his own interests and feels more comfortable.

5. Linking to headcanon 2 is what I like to call “The silver prince of Tracy Island”. Scott is a valuable asset, and people know this. Even before iR, organisations and militaries were scrambling to try and get hold of the firstborn of the legendary Colonel Jeff Tracy. They think that the kid who wants to be just like daddy will be easy to manipulate. But Scott always turned them down out of a desire to stay with his family and his incredibly pacifist nature. One of these organisations was the GDF, at the time run by a not so nice man. Not long before the Zero-X, they attempted to basically kidnap Scott and force him to serve, but were stopped by an irate Jeff who came in and saved him. This incident lead to the man in charge being investigated and replaced by Colonel Casey not long after Zero-X. (This is partly influenced by an old thread that I can’t find for the LIFE OF ME-)

His brothers know what happened, they know that there are people who want Scott Tracy for their own gain, and they are determined to protect him as he’s protected them. Sometimes, one might find a brother or two sitting vigil over their brother’s rare instances of sleep. His royal guard.

6. Scott’s pacifist nature comes from the fact that his earliest memories include the fresh Conflict of 2040. He became aware of the destruction through Jeff’s own experiences and hearing many, many news broadcasts and conversations. Scott may have been young, but he understood the gravity of what adults talked about following the conflict, when it was fresh in everyone’s minds. Whilst he doesn’t remember this, it was monumental in forming who he is today. He’s not a TOTAL pacifist (as seen when he attempts to punch evil Indiana Jones-), but he is determined to never take a life. He knows his father’s regrets, and promised to never repeat them.

7. Scott is stronger than he looks. Yes he’s light as a feather and could almost be called a twink, but he’s actually mostly lean muscle. iR promotes training for strength rather than show, so Scott isn’t very buff looking. He does however, lack a lot of body fat and can sometimes struggle to warm back up. His uniform is thickly woven and padded inside as a result, and on windy days at the island, Virgil will attempt to swaddle his big brother in blanket-thick towels post-swim.

8. Despite only stating “looking up at the night sky” (ouch) and “swimming” as his hobbies in that interview, Scott does have a few things he enjoys! Flying is obvious, but he also enjoys playing football (the REAL one, where you KICK the ball), hiking, model making and using burner accounts to wind up the bigots of 2060.

9. Scott has some variation of separation anxiety, even if he’ll never admit it. If a brother comes home after a close call or particularly long/dangerous mission, he’ll essentially wrap himself around them and refuse to let go. Because he’s mad at himself that he couldn’t protect them more, scared of what could have happened, and needs to assure himself that he hasn’t lost his baby brothers the way he lost his dad.

10. When there’s a particularly annoying or just frustrating board member at Tracy Industries, Scott will perform a series of secret pranks to get under their skin without any real consequences. The investors fear the coffee machine after it got filled with non-toxic washing up liquid found its way inside. He sits with Gordon to brainstorm new ideas.

11. If picked up from under the armpits or grabbed by the back of his shirt collar, Scott will go limp and one can perform the cat “temperament test” on him. Beware that this only occurs when there is a level of trust, otherwise expect resistance.

[admirationandromantics]

Could you please write something about Chris or Josh with a virgin reader? How they'd react when they found out? How their first time would be like? Both of them strike me as virgins as well but idk🤷‍♀️

Yes, I also imagine both of them as virgins. Josh seems like he’s been all talk, no action. And Chris? Well, I feel that one is obvious. Anyways, I’ll do both in this post, and for the sake of the writing, the reader is the only virgin, not the guys. They’ve both had sex before. Just because it’s easier to work with. Anyway, enjoy <3 

Chris

He’s not surprised when you tell him, he did not think you were, but the reveal gives him a little comfort as well. Why, you ask? Because he doesn’t need to match himself up to someone else. He’s confident in his ways, and that he can make you feel good, but at the same time, this guy will never stop being insecure, and that small part of it relieved him a little. 

What he also does feel anxious about is the fact that he’ll be your first. And what do people say about their first time? Awkward, weird, nothing went as planned… He wants to make sure that your first time goes well, and that it was a good experience. “I promise, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy” “Yeah, yeah. But I’m gonna make you happy for another reason than that too” 

If you are the VERY romantic type, he’ll set everything up. A nice dinner, candles, music etc. He wants you to remember this, and trust me, remember you will. 

One of his goals is to drag out the foreplay as long as possible, wanting you to be drenched and needy for him. Better to go too slow than too quick. This makes the makeout session last way longer than necessary, and you’re starting to get impatient. “C-Chris, I need you now” “No, no, just a little bit longer” he whispers, hand in your hair, pulling you towards him. 

It’s firstly when you start unconsciously grinding on his thigh that he finally understands how down-bad you are, and he starts working on your clothing. He’s fast and gentle with his hands, easily unclasping and removing your bra. 

The cold air hitting your nipples while he admires you, hands groping and lips sucking. You can’t do anything but throw your head back, gripping his shoulders for support as he continues his assault. 

You guys move on, getting each other's clothes off, and him getting on top of you, fingers digging into your heat as you whimper. He continuously asks if you’re okay, if you’re in pain or uncomfortable. 

“You sure you want to keep going?” “Y-yes” “I can stop if-” “I swear, I’ll kill you if you stop now” “Oh? well then” a smile creeping on his lips as he drags out his fingers. 

He positions himself, using your juices as lube as he slowly moves up and down, getting ready. “Okay, we’re gonna take this slow, okay?” You nod, taking a deep breath as he fills you up, small moans leaving your mouth. He leans over you, meeting your lips in a sweet kiss, swallowing each of your sounds while pressing into you. 

“How’re you feeling?” “Fuck, just give me a couple of seconds” you whisper, adjusting and comprehending. He smiles, nodding and spending the time kissing your upper body, everything from your lips down to your breasts. 

After a while, you give him the signal, urging him to start moving. He obliges, always watching your reactions attentively to be sure you’re okay. 

As the night draws to a close, you spend the night in his arms, sleeping and cuddling. Of course, when you were done, he had a glass of water ready for you, packing you deep into the sheets and caressing your hair. 

Josh

Josh is not surprised that you’re a virgin. His suggestive comments here and there getting you so riled up that he only made the assumption. He does not feel that much pressure, only wanting your time with him to go well. 

He can be really romantic, each touch he makes both attentive and calculated. When you’re making out, he’s respectful until you ask him not to be, causing a rougher man to grope and bite you. He still doesn’t go the full way, wanting to be careful and make sure that some type of trust is established before going to second base. 

One day, you’re laying on his bed, a movie playing in the background when your attention turns to each other. This leads to a long make out session, clothes thrown across the room, but still not going further than your underwear. 

You’re hot and bothered, wanting him to take you right now. You smile as you feel him growing hard beneath you, reciprocating that craving. Thighs around his torso, ass on his pelvis, you lean down, leaving kisses on his neck and asking. “Josh, I want you” “Right now? Are you sure?” “Yes” 

He spins you around, making you gasp from your back hitting the mattress. His hands wander over your chest, going behind and unclasping your bra. You sit up a bit, helping him take it off, throwing the garment on the floor. 

“And you want to do this?” “Yes, I do” “Right now” “Are you not up for it?” “Holy fuck, I’m holding back with every fiber of my being” “Stop holding back” 

He watches you while pushing himself into you, making sure that you’re not getting hurt, and can stop at any time. He captures your lips in his, both of your moans filling the room every time you stop for air. 

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight” You can only whimper in reply, feeling him fill you up, struggling to control himself as he wants to ravage you. He gives you time to adjust, letting you signal to him when he can start moving. 

When you’re done, he holds you, praising you and asking how it was. He’s attentive and sweet, asking if you would like a bath or a shower.

[jayinserenity]

So, I did it again and got caught up thinking about some Wyrmclan cats, today's subject being Daisypaw who I have Feelings about and grieving is complicated when you're in his position so @wyrm-clangen pls feel free to let me know if I've totally missed the mark or anything but... yeah. I wrote another drabble.

“C’mooon Daisypaw, I haven’t gotten you sick? Why can’t I go see them???” Daisypaw rolled his eyes above the mask, careful not to let Ivyshine see as he sifted through the herbs in the carrier Ferretlily had given him to bring to the quarantine tunnels. Sparrowlight was wheezing a little as he laughed, and Daisypaw saw Wingpaw, settling into her nest carefully, smile a little at her uncle’s antics. 

“You haven’t gotten me sick because Ferret and I cleanse thoroughly every time we leave this den and we’re both relatively healthy. Raggedspeckle just gave birth and the kits were just born so they can’t fight off illness nearly as well.” He responded, refusing to play in to the older tom’s nonsense, but regretted his shortness a little as he heard Ivyshine flop back into his nest and saw the sickly warrior droop in genuine sadness. “Turtlefreckle will be watching over her, and Icyclaw has been sleeping outside the nursery every night. You focus on getting healthy so you can get back sooner.” Daisypaw sighed as he turned back, nudging the slender black warrior with the hard surface of his mask. He turned away again when Ivyshine’s wet eyes looked up at him, seeming like he was ramping up for another round of dramatics. 

“Don’t worry so much, Ivy, my littermates are watching out for her too!” Wingpaw mewed, her voice was hoarse from her coughing and while she was obviously trying to use her usual energetic nature to reassure, Daisypaw could tell the younger cat was exhausted. He made sure she took the lungwort and feverfew, hoping dosing her more heavily would help her fight off the yellowcough that had managed to sneak up on them. Thank Starclan none of her littermates or denmates had become ill as well. Between her and Sparrowlight, Ivyshine had been mollified, and Daisypaw gave the patients a final check before gathering up their supplies and slipping from the quarantine tunnel. 

He hadn’t been joking about the cleansing, Daisypaw entered the tunnel to the cold underground river with only a little dread. The water was frigid, and clung to his pelt worse than the sap that had gotten stuck in his fur when Rookrise took him to gather pine needles.

Daisypaw carefully ignored the pang of pain that thinking about Mom brought. She’d been looking for more feverfew with Rattail and Willowdew one day and then… none of them had come back. It had been the kits all over again, search parties scoured the territory for them, but no one knew where they’d gone. Daisy had been trying not to think too hard about it, Ferret had told him it wasn’t his fault they weren’t found. That him being on the search patrols probably wouldn’t have changed anything. 

It was easier said than believed. 

Daisypaw shook the water from his pelt, taking off his new clean mask and rinsing the inside before leaving it to dry next to Ferretlily’s own, and padded tiredly back up the tunnel towards the main cavern. The faint light from outside filtering down reassured him he hadn’t lost the entire day in the quarantine tunnel so he set off through the varying burrows searching for his mentor. 

Most of the apprentices were out training, he knew, the mentors had decided to keep everyone as busy as possible. Something about idle paws, Daisypaw didn’t really pay attention. The only one that really mattered was Bluepaw, to be honest. Turtlefreckle had been keeping Bluepaw extra busy, now that his own litter were apprentices, and Daisypaw knew his brother’s mentor was trying to keep his own mind off of the yellowcough outbreak as much as Bluepaw’s. He only saw the new apprentice, Goldpaw or whatever his name was, hanging out with Sunpaw and Midnightpaw. The two younger apprentices had been on dawn patrol that morning, so Daisypaw supposed it made sense that the three were here, talking about something or another over a rabbit and a shrew. Sunpaw gave him a small smile and waved his tail, but Daisypaw… well he couldn’t really bring himself to care as he passed the other young cats. He saw the brown apprentice’s tail flop back down from his periphery before he was into another set of tunnels, following the freshest hint of Ferretlily’s scent under everyone else’s. 

“... can’t keep pushing them this hard. The fact Wingpaw got sick so suddenly makes me wonder if she was too run down to fight the illness off.” He heard his mentor’s voice from the leader’s den, and settled himself to sit outside politely. “I know leaf bare has been harsh, but we can’t afford more of the healthier young cats getting sick.”

“You’re right. I’ll talk with the mentors later, see if we can set a better schedule.” Fiercechasm’s voice then. “Give them some rest time.”

“Thank you. I’ll try and do the same with Daisypaw, I’m worried he’ll run himself ragged.” Daisypaw frowned, flicking an ear in annoyance. Ferret was always fussing. “He’s not taking the time to process anything… sometimes I wish I had an excuse to send him out with the other apprentices, but with Rookrise gone I can’t spare him.” Daisypaw felt that annoyance fade a little at the guilt and tiredness if Ferretlily’s voice. He knew, objectively, he should be sadder than he was. Mom being missing. Mama and Panther dying last moon. But he just… didn’t. 

“Has he talked to Zuva?” Fiercechasm was asking, and that bit of annoyance was back. He didn’t need a mediator, besides, what was Zuva going to do? Bring his moms and sister back? This wasn’t something the old molly could fix like a spat over the last bass on the fresh kill pile. 

“No, and he gets irritated every time I ask.”

“Same with Bluepaw, Turtlefreckle has been trying, but now that Wingpaw is sick… I don’t want them to isolate more.” Daisypaw scoffed. Then realized both voices from the leader’s den had gone quiet. 

“... Daisy, I know you’re out there. Come on, we need to talk.” He sighed, but got to his paws and padded in to the den. Fiercechasm was looking a little uncomfortable, sitting to one side, but Ferret just looked tired. “Eavesdropping?”

“Was looking for you, figured I’d wait till you were done, didn’t really care about the conversation at first.” He muttered as he sat opposite her. Ferretlily didn’t hold the same intimidation factor his mother had, Hornetrise could make a rogue back down with a single look purely based on size alone, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little uncomfortable under Ferretlily’s assessing eye. She always seemed to see right through him. 

“... you know that’s part of why I’m worried, right?” Daisypaw nodded, feeling his ears droop a little without his permission. “I’m not mad at you, Daisy, but this not caring and only being around Bluepaw or me, it’s not healthy.” Daisypaw frowned. What did Ferretlily know? Did she lose both her parents and her only sister over the course of two moons? Daisypaw’s irritation sparked into anger.

“Who says it’s not? You? Fiercechasm? Zuva?” His tone wasn’t kind, and he saw the way Fiercechasm startled.

“Yes, yes, and yes. Daisypaw you aren’t the first cat to lose ones important to them.” Ferretlily started, her own irritation seeping in to his voice, and Daisypaw pinned his ears. 

“So they get to say how I should handle it?”

“No, but you can’t just pretend the rest of the clan doesn’t exist-”

“Are you giving Midnightpaw the same lecture? He’s only really hanging out with Sunpaw and the Heartclan reject-”

“Daisypaw!”

“Enough.” Fiercechasm didn’t snap, didn’t shout, but her voice cut through their argument just the same and Daisypaw felt a little shame at the disappointment in the deputy’s eyes. “Ferretlily, maybe you should go get some air.” The senior healer frowned at the younger cat, but nodded and left nonetheless, leaving Daisypaw with the silent deputy across the leader’s den from him.

“... I’m not going to go play moss ball with the kits and pretend everything is ok.” He muttered after a moment, scowling down and to the side to avoid looking at her.

“I know.”

“And I’m not gonna go cry and pretend it will make it better.”

“Because it won’t.” Daisypaw startled, then, looking up at Fiercechasm and seeing her expression soften. “Pretending everything is ok and wallowing in sadness won’t make it better. But neither will pretending you’re a loner in a camp full of clanmates who love you.” The two of them sat quietly for a bit, only the faint sounds of one of the patrols coming back breaking the heavy silence, before Daisypaw finally heaved a sigh and let his hackles drop.

“I don’t want it to hurt like that again.” He mewed, and it felt a little better to say it, and even better when Fiercechasm nodded in agreement. 

“I know. But holding everyone a taillength away won’t make it hurt any less when you lose one of them. I tried that, and it still hurt just as bad.” Daisypaw watched the deputy as she seemed to stare at something he couldn’t see, and wondered which of their lost clanmates she was remembering. 

“When Plum died, I shut down, didn’t want to be around anyone. Some days I could barely look at Sparrow and Swift knowing that they were all that was left of her, other days I clung to them like they were my last link to life… then Duskpaw was struck on the Thunderpath. And even though I thought I’d given up on opening my heart to the rest of the clan, losing her was like prodding an open wound. Watching Rattail and his kits mourn, then watching them do it all over again when we lost Seed to the twolegs the next moon? I realized that hiding away and pretending I didn’t care wasn’t protecting my heart. It was just hurting the ones I cared about.” Fiercechasm looked back at him, and Daisypaw was surprised to see her smile, even if it was tinged with sadness. “I know how tempting it is to hide away and pretend you don’t care. But there are cats who care about you. I know Swish has been worried, he can take Bluepaw on patrol when Turtle lets him, but you’re hidden away in the quarantine tunnel… Maybe start there?” Daisypaw felt another wave of guilt. He knew their older brother had been hurt too, but he’d assumed since Swishbeam was with Eddymist he wouldn’t care. Knowing that Swish had been trying… a little bit of warmth seeped back into his chest at that. 

“... Thanks Fierce. And sorry for yelling.”

“If you need to yell and be mad, that’s ok Daisypaw, but know that your clanmates are here for you. If you want to be mad or get out of the burrows for a bit to do something that isn’t looking for herbs, just ask.” Daisypaw nodded and gave a weak smile as he slunk out of the den, noting Riftstar standing further from the den in a way that told him the leader had heard, but wanted to give them privacy. He turned a little to give Daisypaw that gentle smile he always did before heading in to talk to Fiercechasm.

“Daisypaw?” He startled a little, looking up at Sunpaw as he approached. Midnightpaw and Goldenpaw were still near the apprentice’s den, but the quiet brown apprentice was looking at him in worry. “I know it’s kind of silly to ask if you’re ok, because I know I’m still not okay about Mom, Heron and Burdock, but… do you want to come sit with us? Goldenpaw was telling us some Heartclan stories, and you always told really good stories when you would watch me in the quarantine tunnel.” Daisypaw blinked, a little surprised, looked between Sunpaw and the other two apprentices watching them before that bit of warmth he’d felt talking to Fiercechasm came back. He didn’t fight the little smile that came to him as he nodded, seeing Sunpaw’s expression light up before they went to join the other two apprentices. He told himself he’d swap stories until Bluepaw got home. But by the time his brother joined them, not only was he in the midst of telling the younger apprentices about the time Ferretlily had started an argument with Agavepelt of Nightingaleclan in the middle of a Gathering that had led to a three-clan screeching match and ended the Gathering early. 

“Good to see you out of the tunnels, Daisy.” Bluepaw mewed, tucking up next to him and giving his own tired smile. Bluepaw didn’t sleep well these days, dreams filling with howls and snarls where Daisypaw’s were haunted by coughing and gasping, but with the rest of the apprentices settling around them, Daisypaw wondered if maybe, just maybe, they’d be okay. It wasn’t okay now, but it might be, someday. 

[nxtt2-u]

kink headcanons ft. OT8 SKZ !

content info — ot8 (individual) x afab!reader, 3.6k words, smut, established relationship in all scenarios

content warnings — nsfw, a shit ton of kinks and scenarios about them, kinks will not be specified to prevent spoiling, swearing, intentional lowercase

notes — this was actually meant for kinktober ‘24, but i clearly never got around to finishing it… whoops. here we are a whopping four months later; enjoy! not proofread. 18+ only, mdni.

★ ──── BANGCHAN

a switch, but leans heavily on the dominant side. usually a service dom, but can get a little mean sometimes.

⤷ BREEDING.

chan gets off so badly to the fantasy of fucking his babies into you. one night when he’s pounding into you with a condom on, he begins to babble when his orgasm draws near — “you’d look so fucking gorgeous all round with my children, baby, fuck!” and you clamp down on him so hard he has half the mind to think his cock might snap in half as he experiences the strongest orgasm of his life. so yeah, it’s safe to say you got on birth control right away & threw away all condoms after that.

⤷ PRAISE.

he loves to whisper sweet things into your ear as he gently pushes into your cunt from behind after a busy schedule. chan loves how you gush around him when his murmured words, coated in sickeningly sweet honey, flow into your ears as he wholly takes you apart with his hands and cock. he loves it even more when you praise him as well! it has a special effect on him when you’re riding him especially — the praise sends his dick jerking within your tight heat as his knees wobble and he keens into where his face is mushed between your tits.

⤷ FACE FUCKING.

this man loathes to hurt you, but when you give him head one time and he accidentally thrusts too deep into your mouth, he can’t help the way he positively throbs at the wet click your throat gives when it constricts around his tip. when you feel the twitch, you moan & quickly pull off just to give him permission to fuck your throat before taking his cock back into your mouth and waiting patiently. the sight and sound of you deepthroating him is so erotic that when he comes, he genuinely gets lightheaded and has to sit down afterward before he collapses from the intensity of his orgasm.

⤷ BONUS!

his fav position is definitely riding. quick, act surprised! he loves to see you work up a sweat in his lap while you struggle to take his cock to the hilt. its so endearingly hot, the way you plea and whine for him to help you work his dick inside, but he just chuckles n pats your ass as a signal to keep going. maybe, if he feels merciful enough, he’ll flip you over when your legs really do give out and pound you til you’re full of his cum.

★ ──── MINHO

dom & brat tamer. has subbed only once with you and liked it so much he got too scared to try it again.

⤷ BONDAGE.

minho often restrains your wrists with his belt or a silk tie he owns when you get particularly bratty with him. he holds them behind your back as he slams into you from behind, and the sight of you restrained just for him, creaming all over his cock despite the rough treatment he loves to dish out, has him seeing stars when he pulls out to come on your back.

⤷ IMPACT PLAY.

it’s no secret minho loves ass: slapping ass, grabbing ass, pretty much anything to do with ass. so it’s no surprise when his palm harshly crashes down on the supple curve of your cheeks when he gives you backshots for the first time. you jolt at the sudden sting, though it burns wonderfully when he does it again. and again. and again, until your skin is red and thoroughly raw once he’s done with you. as your relationship goes on, he eventually begins to slap your pretty face as well, though he’s much more gentle about that. on your rear, however? no mercy.

⤷ SOMNOPHILIA.

min loves nothing more than coming home to you dozing peacefully in those specific sleep shorts, a sign you’re his for the night. even if he’s horribly exhausted from a long day, the sight of you deep asleep and utterly pliant for him has the cogs in his mind gearing into something primal with how much arousal shoots to his cock. he wastes no time in prowling across the room to harshly push the gusset of the fabric aside and immediately slide himself home when he discovers you’re commando and already soaking wet. there’s no way you stay asleep at such rough handling, of course, but that won’t make him stop anytime soon!

⤷ BONUS!

he enjoys anal. when you were out the house, he took one of your dildos in secret and experimented with it on his own, and came out pleasantly surprised. not only does he enjoy it with himself, he also loves anal with you — especially when he gets home after a long day of work to find you all dolled up for him. his cock jerks in his pants when he reaches down to grope your ass in appreciation, only to discover a plug snug between your cheeks. he’d never admit it out loud, but it gets him super riled up to see the way your hole gapes and sputters when he’s done with you.

★ ──── CHANGBIN

a switch, but leans slightly onto the subby side.

⤷ FREE USE.

bin loves to see when you come home from a long, frustrating day at work. he loves to see your eyes darken when you notice the special bracelet on his wrist that shares an unmistakable sign between the two of you, and he loves it even more when you storm across the living room to shove him back onto the couch and pop open the button of his jeans without a word to sink down on his cock like you own it, own him. nothing else gets him harder than when you simply take and use him like your own personal toy!

⤷ PEGGING.

although he does enjoy pegging, the two of you don’t dabble in this often — simply because you much prefer his cock down your throat or in your pussy, milking him dry. but when he does feel subby enough to offer his ass up, it usually leads to very tender lovemaking rather than hard, rough sex. he just gets so soft and needy in this headspace when you peg him, so eager to feel good! in missionary, he often pops a tit into his mouth to softly suckle at as you thrust into him leisurely from above. but it’s never long before he starts babbling and begging you for more!

⤷ ROLEPLAY.

something about taboo roleplays get binnie going like no other: age gaps, power imbalances, and even cheating get his cock rock hard in seconds when the two of you play in the bedroom. recently, the two of you had roleplayed as professor and student. “ah, professor, are you sure this is the best way to get extra credit..?” you’d peered down at him as he eased your short skirt and panties down your legs, chuckling at your bashful behavior. “of course, bun,” he’d sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to your sopping core before meeting your eyes again with a smirk. “your grades will be up in no time if you just spread those pretty legs for your professor, hm? now go on, i’m waiting.”

⤷ BONUS!

loves double penetration, both on him and you. it drives him crazy to see you struggle to take both his coke can of a cock in your cunt and a silicone replica of it down your throat at the same time. watching your cheeks hollow obscenely around the replica has his cock kicking within your walls as you moan around it, and it quickly has him bending your legs to your chest to pound you properly. on the flip side of the coin, he loves how full he feels when you plug his ass and fuck his throat with your strap; it gets his head all floaty n pliant for you in a heartbeat!

★ ──── HYUNJIN

walking definition of a switch. sadist & masochist. can get pretty bratty when he subs.

⤷ BREATH PLAY.

hyunjin loves the tantalizing pressure of your palm against his neck, especially when you ride him so hard he’s practically seeing stars. whether that’s from how hard your ass is slamming down onto his muscled thighs or from the growing asphyxiation, he’s too deliciously lightheaded to even think about it when the two of you go hard like this in bed. when you give his neck one generous squeeze, it has his whole body locking up and him coming instantly with no warning other than a broken, guttural cry. on the other hand, he gets an intense power trip when he chokes you — the way your jaw drops as you gasp for breath when his grip tightens and your pretty eyes roll back to show the whites is so intoxicating to him! he’ll never be able to get enough of the sight.

⤷ TEMPERATURE PLAY.

the way you squirm beneath him is just so cute when hyune rubs ice across your perky nipples while his hot, hard cock spears you open at the same time! when the cubes slip off your breasts onto the sheets beside you, the warmth of his breath fanning over the cold area when he leans down has you squealing and kicking your legs out in protest — but he catches those easily and wraps them around his slender waist to laugh down at how sensitive and responsive you are for him.

⤷ COCK & BALL TORTURE.

the delicious sting hyunjin feels when you slap his cock sends his body shuddering and eyes rolling. his toes curl when you tug harshly on his sensitive balls before rearing your hand back to smack the head of his weeping cock, forcing his hips to kick off the bed with the searing pleasure-pain that has his brain reeling and nervous system going haywire. especially loves when you bust out some cock rings — it’s a perfect night for him when you ride his cock raw, denying him of his orgasm while you have your fun, until he can finally cum inside after hours of his balls being squeezed tight to stave off his orgasm.

BONUS!

big big big fan of markings, both on himself and you! he’s constantly biting marks into the tender skin just below your boobs and the soft inner areas of your thighs when he goes down on you. he really loves it when he gets time off so you can mark him up properly on his neck, particularly below his jaw, so he can go a few days without having to conceal it with makeup and wear and flaunt them properly. his favorite place to mark you, though, is your hips and chest. gets a huge ego boost when he sees them peeking out of your shirt when you wear a low-cut top, and he’s extra smug when you get home later that day to refresh them.

★ ──── JISUNG

sub, sub, sub! rarely doms, and even when he does “dom” it’s more or less him acting the same as usual — like a princess — with the only difference being him doing all the work for once. big masochist.

⤷ MOMMY KINK.

there’s rarely a moment in bed where jisung doesn’t call you mommy. like the sweet boy he is, he always asks you for permission before he does anything. “mommy, please let me suck your tits? i promise i won’t touch myself without your permission, pleaseee?” and with those sweet doe eyes of his, how could you say no? he gets pretty babbly when he’s balls deep in your pussy and his head is mushed between your tits as he whines and cries out his thanks, how good he feels — he’s simply too obsessed with you!

⤷ DEGRADATION.

jisung nearly cums in his pants when you talk down to him like he’s worth nothing to you, like he’s the dirt on the bottom of your shoes. he can’t stop the breathy moans slipping from his dropped jaw when you jerk his slick cock, whispering words in his ears that should humiliate him, but only results in more burning hot arousal pooling deep in his stomach and his balls tightening, eager to spill all over the tight grip of your hand. all his efforts to hold off his orgasm go to waste, though, when you call him a “worthless, good for nothing slut” that has his body abruptly convulsing and cries tumbling from his lips as he cums all the way up to his heaving chest.

⤷ PAIN KINK.

he gets delirious with pleasure when you slap his face or spank him when he’s misbehaved a little too much for your liking. if you pair a harsh slap to his cute, chubby little cheeks with a mean slew of insults to his face as he fucks you in missionary, he’ll wind up keening so loud he has to bury his face in your neck to muffle the sound, lest you get a noise complaint from the neighbors in the morning. the sting of getting hit has so much blood rushing from his head to his cock in an instant that he gets dizzy with how good he feels, every. single. time.

⤷ BONUS!

this man is a munch. he eats you out at any opportunity like a man starved, fast and messy, just the way both you & him love. tug on his hair n it’ll have his eyes rolling as he buries his face into your cunt, eagerly lapping up your the juices that soak his chin with a whine while his hips buck involuntarily against the mattress. degrade him too, n he just might cum in his pants right then n there!

★ ──── FELIX

dom. doesn’t mind subbing if you ask, but it’s generally not his go-to.

⤷ ORGASM DENIAL.

this man is a little shit who adores bringing you right to the edge before ripping your orgasm out of your grasp with a delighted smirk. as soon as he rips whatever he was using on you away, whether it be his fingers or a toy, the way you convulse in protest and plead at him with watery eyes gets him so hot he nearly cums on the spot, even if nothing is actively stimulating his dick. he just loves to tease, what can he say?

⤷ SENSORY DEPRIVATION.

felix has no qualms with playing with you for hours when he blindfolds you and, sometimes, even plugs your ears when he really wants to get you on edge. seeing your breath quicken in anticipation for what he’ll do to you has his cock chubbing up in record time in the tight confines of his boxers, and the sight of you all docile and restrained for him has him half considering the idea of dropping the ties just to bend you over the nearest surface and fuck your brains out. but he always reins himself in just before he can fold, for you always look much prettier disheveled and begging for him to end the teasing and give you what you want.

⤷ HUMILIATION.

he loves making you cream all over his cock just to spew absolute filth at you for it. he can feel his sanity disappearing bit by bit when he gets to witness firsthand the way you slip into subspace at his vulgar, demeaning words in that deep voice of his, and it only gets him hotter when you begin to cry and beg him incoherently. for what, he isn’t quite sure because you’re too far gone to even speak properly anymore, but he’ll make sure you have all you need when you start clawing desperately at his shoulders with a beautiful, full-body shudder.

⤷ BONUS!

he’s lowkey a brat tamer! it gets him so riled up when you purposefully dress in your skimpiest clothes for the group nights you spend going out with the other guys, just to elicit a reaction out of him when you get home. and boy, is that reaction dangerous. he watches you like a hawk throughout the night, tongue constantly poking his cheek in annoyance while his jaw ticks when he sees you laughing with one of his members. he knows he has no real reason to be jealous, especially when he’s already aware you’re just looking to be put in your place, but that won’t stop him from taking all that emotion out on your cunt when everyone leaves later.

★ ──── SEUNGMIN

switch. he doesn’t have a preference & simply enjoys it all.

⤷ EXHIBITIONISM.

the adrenaline rush seungmin gets when he fucks you on the floor of their dance practice room once everyone’s gone for the day is so fucking heady and addictive. the thought of one of his members walking in to find him blowing your back out in the middle of the room is so arousing that he fucks you practically ten times harder than usual when the two of you mess around in semi-public places like this. one time, when you did happen to get caught blowing him backstage right before a soundcheck, his eyes had blown impossibly wide before he spilled down your throat with a choked groan. the two of you were horribly mortified after the fact, but he still secretly gets off to that memory when he’s away on tour.

⤷ DUMBIFICATION.

seeing you gradually lose coherency the longer he has you warm his cock while he busies himself with other tasks is one of his favorite pastimes. “hey, pup,” seungmin taps your shoulder delicately as he lightly jostles you in his lap, causing a moan to flutter from between your lips. when he grabs your chin to press a chaste kiss to the corners of your mouth, he nearly moans aloud too when he pulls back and sees how fucking gone you look. eyes fuzzy, pretty lips pulled into a dopey smile, and pussy stretched warm and wet around his now-throbbing cock. it’s insane to practice restraint with how sweet you look like this. “since you’ve been so good for me, i have a reward for you. how’s that sound, baby?”

⤷ PET PLAY.

when you come home after an outing with your friends to discover seungmin perched on the couch in nothing but the collar with your name attached to it and some dangerously low black sweats, you can’t help but drag him to the bedroom to leash him and force him to sit at your feet while you finish up some papers at your desk. he’s obedient for a little while, like he always is, until he starts getting antsy and whines for your attention. you pay him no mind until he begins to nose at the crotch of your bottoms, eager for a treat, and who are you to deny your sweet puppy a snack after he’s been so good and obedient for you?

⤷ BONUS!

he owns multiple different colored collars that have your name engraved onto the tags as well as a human-sized dog bed to pair with them. when he particularly craves submission, he’ll ask to be leashed and rode in the dog bed because it brings him an odd sense of comfort: being someone’s so wholly that he’s willing to wear a collar to show off who he belongs to, who owns him.

★ ──── JEONGIN

generally a dom. when he does sub, it’s nothing too crazy.

⤷ BEGGING.

jeongin loves to drive you to the point of incoherency with his mouth, hands, cock: all of it! it goes straight to both his dick and his ego when you’re reduced down to broken, babbling cries that beg him for more, less, harder, faster — somehow you plea for them all at once. he can’t get enough of how much you seem to love his body and the pleasure it can provide.

⤷ DACRYPHILIA.

it drives him insane when he sees you writhing with so much pleasure that it actually brings you to tears. every time your pretty eyes begin to water with unshed tears from the unforgiving pace he sets as he pounds into your poor cunt, it makes a loud moan rip from his throat and his dick twitch within your walls, and he may even nearly cum on the spot. he absolutely loves the sight of you desperate and babbling for his cum, and he’s not afraid to show it.

⤷ CORRUPTION KINK.

both of you were the farthest thing from inexperienced or vanilla when you first started dating, but that doesn’t stop jeongin from fucking his fist late at night to the fantasy he was your first. the first man to take your virginity, show you how to ride cock and suck on one, even teach you how to have your first orgasm because you’d been too unsure of yourself in the past to even try. the thought of you being pure and untouched before meeting him makes him ache with arousal, particularly at the thought of corrupting and ruining you for any other man because he just fucks you so good that both of you know you’d never be able to reach the same peaks of pleasure he brings you to again and again with anyone else.

⤷ BONUS!

he really enjoys 69ing. when he’s on top, he loves the sensation of his cock sliding down your throat and the clicking of your throat as it tries to accommodate his length. he loves the way your juices coat his chin as he messily slurps and sucks on your clit, and especially loves the way your thighs shake beside his ears when you get close. when he’s on the bottom, he adores the way you push your hips back onto his face to grind your clit down on his tongue, and adores the way you slip his cock into your mouth until you’re gagging around the tip and your tongue is laving hot and wetly at his balls. the rapid tightening of your throat around his dick has him close in seconds, but even if he comes early he’ll eat you out til you’re shaking with satisfaction.

[ghostgirl-22]

hi i love the way you write artashi and their intimacy ❤️ i imagine when they first start dating and he still has curly hair tashi shows him a routine to take care of them and tells him which products to buy etc. she helps him wash and style it and it’s such a cute bonding moment i just love them🥹

Awww I love this!! <3

CW: 18+

—-

Tashi is still getting used to living with Art. They’re on the road every few weeks navigating the tour and now instead of two rooms they just get one. Saving him money because she’d been sleeping in his bed every night anyway. On the rare occasions that they aren’t traveling it’s him in her one bedroom in Boston. He’s been lazy to search for something permanent and she knows it’s cause he just wants her to make it official.

As good as it feels, sometimes she still can’t help thinking about Patrick. She hasn’t heard from him in years but it still feels like she’s making a mess. Probably why she’s dragging her feet.

If Art feels any trepidation at all he doesn’t say anything.

She hasn’t fallen too fast…the way she did before. But she’s still falling. God help her.

Her favorite thing right now is cuddling up with him on a free day. Where there’s only recovery training, if any training at all. They’ve started spending those days laying in bed, or on the sofa. Spending all afternoon watching movies together till bedtime. And Art does this thing where he’ll rest his head on her chest, or on her lap. Sometimes he’ll play with the string on her pajama pants, he usually chews on it which she would normally find gross but for some reason with him she thinks it’s kind of adorable. Or he’ll gently rub her tummy if he’s lying on her chest.

And she’ll run her fingers through his baby soft curls. He runs cool so he never feels like too much the way Patrick sometimes did. And she can tell that he loves how it feels by the way that he closes his eyes and sighs. Sometimes keening into it which she secretly adores.

They’re watching Love and Basketball and he’s trying not to cry. She’s seen it many times before and honestly she kinda wants to hear him cry. “What conditioner do you use?” She asks so he’s forced to talk as he’s tearing up.

“Um…” he hiccups. “Uh I think it’s called head and shoulders?”

She scoffs. “You mean the two in one stuff?” She figured he’d just start using her stuff the way Patrick did whenever he’d spend the night but he’s way too polite.

“Yeah um…” he rubs his eyes and sniffles. “Is that uh… bad?”

“Well it’s not good,” she says, shaking her head. “No wonder you’re always so frizzy.”

“I’m uh… I’m sorry?”

She laughs. “Say sorry to your curls, sweetheart,” she teases. “Sit up, cry baby.” She nudges him. “I wanna try something.”

“I wasn’t… uh…” he clears his throat. “Yeah okay. What are we doing?” He asks sitting upright and rubbing his eyes.

She brings him in the kitchen with all her hair products and makes him bend over the sink. She washes his hair first with her sulfate free shampoo. She can hear him sigh happily as her fingers tips massage his scalp. Then as she rinses with warm water.

When she pats his hair dry with a towel he’s all flushed, his eyes are dilated and she realizes he wasn’t just sighing of happiness.

“That felt really good,” he says shyly. He grabs at her oversized white t-shirt. It’s wet and he pokes at her now visible nipples.

She bites her lip and makes him sit on her kitchen chair. She straddles him and yeah… he really, really liked that. She tries to focus on massaging the conditioner into his hair but she can’t help kissing him. His tongue slipping into her mouth eagerly and he’s moaning, shifting his hips so she can feel him pressing up against her. God she’s so wet. She didn’t expect it at all but she probably should’ve.

“Mm,” she licks her lips. “Baby we gotta get this processing cap on you.”

“Yeah, let’s put it on.” He breathes.

She giggles. “Oh god. What do you think it is?”

“What?” He smiles.

“The cap,” she presses another brief kiss to his mouth and he swipes his tongue against her lips as she pulls away.

“You’re gonna massage me with it?”

“No baby,” Tashi smiles. She stands up and he reaches for her.

“I wanna fuck you.”

“I know.” She smirks and washes her hands. He stands up behind her, tugging at her leggings.

“Please, Tashi” he breathes, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing along her throat.

“Just a minute, lemme—“ She pulls a plastic cap off the counter and pulls it over his curls. “Better,” she says, grinning because the heedy expression hasn’t left his face but he does look a little ridiculous with what’s functionally a plastic shower cap on his head.

Doesn’t make much of a difference when he lifts her up on the counter and starts eating her out. She’s grabbing onto him, fingers massaging through the cap while pressing his face against her cunt. He’s obsessed with this part, licking, sucking, tasting… god he’s fucking good at it.

He’s moaning shamelessly, while lapping at her. Almost as loudly as her. When she’s coming for the third time, her legs on his shoulders toes curling, breathless she knows she has to make him stop or he’ll go for hours. “Baby, your hair…” she whines.

“Huh?” He says, dazed. He slowly clamors to his feet. Tenting his pajama pants. She giggles for how ridiculous he looks. But god with his muscles taut, lips wet and skin all flushed he looks really fucking hot too.

“Let’s uh…” she swallows. “We can wash it out in the shower maybe?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Yeah.”

He lifts her up and brings her into the bathroom. They’re barely focused on hair for the first 15 minutes as the water pours over them. He’s using his strength to fuck into her. Kissing her while she rides, she can taste herself. He’s got her, her back pressed up against the cool tile. So much stamina she kinda loves being an athlete even if it aches a little. When they finish she’s a little dizzy. The kinda dizzy she always felt when she fucked his ex best friend. But god does she love the feeling.

“You can move in if you want.” She sighs. Pulling the cap off his head and backing him up into the shower stream.

“Really?” He gasps, shutting his eyes.

“Yeah I’ll uh… I’ll give you one drawer.”

He smiles, blindly. “Uh okay. That’s all I need.”

She kisses his smile and makes a curtain with his hair, so she can look in his eyes. God she’s falling.

She lets his hair dry naturally and by evening time even he’s a bit shocked by how much his curls pop.

“It smells really good too,” he tells her when they’re lying in bed.

“Mmhm,” she smirks. Wrapping one of the curls around her finger.

It becomes a little routine for them. Once a week on the off day she’ll wash his hair and they’ll do other stuff. It doesn’t matter what city they’re in. Everyone is loving his curls and it gets to the point that he’s picking up the conditioner from Target when they run out. Packing it in his suitcase before they go abroad. And asking if he should wear one of those caps she wears to bed. She laughs. “If you want to but I’ve got silk pillowcases.”

“Oh, right,” he says, no idea what that means. But every week he’s just so looking forward to wash day.

(I saw this video on twitter of this girl sitting on another girls lap while she’s washing her hair and as she’s massaging her scalp they stop to kiss. Omg it’s so hot. That’s kinda what I thought of when I wrote this besides this amazing prompt<3. Has anyone seen this video? Did I make it up? If you’ve heard of it… I’ll give you all my kingdom for a link. 😭)

[lookingfts]

Dialogue Game - Prompts #3 and #4

I have more I'll write later!

#3 - "You really had no idea?" (@fitrahgolden)

“Your sheets are so much nicer than mine,” she mumbles, savoring the softness of them against every stretch of her bare skin. Kate rarely sleeps naked, but she had been a bit too worn out to manage pajamas when Anthony finally finished with her somewhere around two in the morning. “I think I’m just going to sleep here from now on.”

She tilts her head up and meets Anthony’s eyes. He’s all sleep-rumpled and relaxed, looking happier than she’s ever seen him, and it’s hard to imagine she’s the reason why. “I wish you would,” he says with a little grin.

Rolling her onto her back, Anthony kisses her soft but deep, his hands roaming over every bit of her body that is within his reach. She feels him heavy and warm between her thighs, and knows it won’t be long before she’s ready for him again.

“Last night was…” He presses his lips against her neck, then sighs there. “Better than I imagined. And I’ve imagined.”

Anthony lifts his head, and Kate looks into his eyes. Searching for some sign that he’s just feeding her a line. But he’s earnest as anything. “You did?” she asks quietly.

“You really had no idea?”

Kate shakes her head. She wasn’t unaware of Anthony’s heated glances, of his charged bickering, but she never thought that he really wanted this. Someone way too much like him, headstrong and controlling and traumatized. “I’m used to not…expecting anything from people,” she says, and it sounds tragic even as the words leave her lips, but Anthony only looks sad. Not a pity sadness. A commiserating sadness. “So I just didn’t let myself expect anything from you.”

She swallows, unsure how he’ll respond, but Anthony only takes her wrists and pins them on the pillow above her head, hovering over her. “That ends today,” he says, moving against her slightly, and Kate moans in assent. “Expect everything from me, Kate. Because I’m going to give you all of it.”

#4 - "Why should you get to have all the fun?" (@mimix007)

“You’re leaving with him?”

He knows his tone is too harsh, too sharp, even before Kate frowns at him, throwing her jacket over her arm. “He invited me to get a drink somewhere quieter. It’s loud in here.”

It is far too loud – he hates Ben’s choice of clubs – but it wasn’t supposed to be like this. The moment he saw Kate step through the door, he had a plan. Buy her a drink, ask her to dance. Make the move he’d been teetering on the edge of for so long.

Instead, he’d watched bitterly as she chatted up Dorset in a booth, his arm finding its way around her shoulders. And now she was leaving with Tom and torpedoing any chance of winning her back. Clearly, she was tired of waiting for him, if she ever had been.

“Kate-,” he says, reaching out for her hand, even though he doesn’t have the vaguest idea what he’s going to say. But she flinches back, surprised.

She runs her fingers through her tumbling curls, looking strangely jittery. “You’re just going to leave with Siena tonight. Why should you get to have all the fun?”

There’s a touch of jealousy on Siena’s name, and it gives him a fresh wave of hope. Moving closer so he doesn’t have to yell – he really is too fucking old for this music – he tries again with a hand on her waist. She doesn’t shrink away this time. “Ben invited Siena. I wasn’t – I’m not going to leave with her,” he says, and he feels Kate relax minutely under his grip. “Don’t leave with him. I know I don’t have any right to ask that, but just…don’t. We can stay here or I’ll take you somewhere quieter, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Just…not with him.”

Her conviction, her false bravado, unravels a little further. She leans toward him, and Anthony can’t breathe at how close she is. “Ask me to dance?”

He doesn’t waste a second, taking her hand and tugging her onto the floor with him. Kate smiles as his hands slide across her back, not a whisper of space between them.

If he can help it, she’ll never leave with anyone but him again.

[onechicagolife]

ALWAYS | JAY HALSTEAD

Detective Jay Halstead is a senior member of the Intelligence Unit, where he is partnered with Detective Hailey Upton after his former partner and girlfriend transferred to the FBI and moved to New York. Still adjusting to the loss of his former flame, all the while dealing with emotional scars from his time in the Rangers, his world is once again turned upside down when a case brings up an odd connection to a woman from his past. want to be tagged? link in bio <3

Epilogue

Mia lay on her childhood bed, restless and tangled in sheets that smelled faintly of the lavender laundry detergent her mother always used. The room is bathed in shadows, the soft glow of a streetlamp outside casting faint patterns on the walls. It feels strange being in her old room, but there is some comfort in the familiarity of it. Her mind races, replaying fragments of the last few days, but when she closes her eyes, it settles on one image: the look in Daniel Reid’s eyes as he strangled her. Her mind plays it over and over again, unwilling to let her rest.

Mia huffs and rolls onto her back, pressing a palm to her chest as if that could calm her racing heart. She takes a slow breath, but her lungs still feel too tight, and she can practically feel the memories crawling under her skin. It has been this way since the hospital: long, sleepless nights filled with images she can’t escape.

Reaching for the phone on her nightstand, her thumb hovers over her contacts. She hesitates, debating whether she has the energy to speak. Finally, she taps the screen.

It rings twice before a groggy voice answers, "Halstead.” Jay rubs the sleep from his eyes, confusion stirring when no one responds. He pulls the phone away to check the caller ID. His breath hitches before he brings it back to his ear, “Mia?”

Mia’s eye fall shut in relief at the sound of his voice. “Hey,” she finally says, voice just above a whisper. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have woken you up. Go back to sleep.”

He settles back against the pillow, his voice losing some of its foggy edge. “No, it’s okay. What’s up?”

She swallows, her throat tight, “I just… can’t sleep. I keep thinking about…” Her voice trails off, and the silence speaks for her.

Pausing, Jay tries to stop his own memories from surfacing and clears his throat. “I’m here,” he prods gently. “Talk to me.”

“It’s like,” Mia exhales shakily, pressing the heel of her palm against her closed eyes, “I’m back in that cabin.” Her voice is raw, pained as she nearly breaks. “I close my eyes, and I see him. I see what he did… to Lindsey, to Kyla… Because of me.”

A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “Mia,” Jay begins, his tone gentle but insistent, “what you went through... it’s unimaginable. But none of it was your fault. I know that doesn’t mean much right now, but I need you to hear me. It wasn’t your fault.”

She tightens her grip on the phone and closes her eyes to stop the tears. The conviction in his voice softens the sharp edges of her fear, if only by a fraction. “I know,” she says quietly, letting the words linger. A part of her does know—logically—but it doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at her.

The silence between them is heavy yet reassuring, his quiet presence helping in a way she can’t really explain. Like it always used to. After a few moments, Jay breaks it, his tone lighter, “Hey, remember that time we pranked Will into thinking that ER got canceled?”

Mia lets out an unexpected snort as the memory washes over her. “We? I was just an innocent bystander,” she giggles. “God, he was so mad at you.”

“Well, yeah, because I made him cry in front of a girl,” Jay chuckles, “even if it was just you. Still embarrassing.”

She smiles, a warmth seeping into her chest as they reminisce over the many times she’d been caught in the middle of the Halstead brothers’ antics. The small, welcome distraction makes the air feel a little less stifling. Eventually the laughter fades, replaced by a hesitant curiosity. “Jay,” she murmurs, “do you ever think about what would’ve happened if you never enlisted?”

He goes quiet for several long seconds, and she imagines him rubbing a hand over his face, trying to gather the right words. “I don’t regret joining the military,” he finally says, voice low. “But yeah, I do. I think about how I hurt you. About what you said that day—that I was trying to fix something broken in me. You were right.”

Mia shuts her eyes, a twinge of shame tugging at her heart. “I was so angry,” she admits. “When I found out I was pregnant, I—I was terrified. But I knew in my bones that no matter how scared I was, you’d be the best father to our daughter.”

A strangled breath escapes past his lips, tears burning at the corners of his eyes. “Daughter?” he echoes, his voice cracking.

“I’m not sure,” she clarifies softly, blinking back her own tears, “I just always pictured her as a girl.”

He nods to himself, a small, sad smile pulling at his lips for a second at the image it conjures. “I didn’t know,” he manages, choking back the emotion that threatens to drown him. “I didn’t know about the baby or realize how much I was hurting you. I got so wrapped up in what I thought I needed—what I owed myself—that I never stopped to think about what you needed. And if I had known about her…”

"Jay, I know,” she furrows her brows, trying to convey her understanding with the softness of her tone.

He runs a hand down his face, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. If I could go back and do things differently, I would. I meant what I said. I chose wrong.”

Mia sniffles, tears dripping onto the soft, faded pillow beneath her head. The quiet over the line stretches, brimming with what she can’t bring herself to say yet.

I forgive you.

I want you.

I love you.

“Jay,” she whispers instead.

He swallows audibly, his next words raw. “Honestly, I think a part of my heart has always been yours. No matter what’s happened or how much time has passed. I think about that day at the airport all the time—about the promise I made. And I should’ve fought for you. With everything I had, I should’ve fought for you.”

She inhales unevenly, trying to piece her composure back together. Finally, she breathes again, “I should’ve fought, too.”

The words hang in the air, leaving them both lost in what could’ve been. When Jay speaks again, his tone is carefully measured, “It’s late. You should try to get some sleep.”

She nods even though he can’t see her. “Thank you,” she mumbles. “For always answering.”

He pauses a moment, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Goodnight, Jay,” she says softly.

“Goodnight.”

As Mia hangs up, the shadows in the room seem less daunting, the quiet less suffocating. Rolling onto her side, she closes her eyes, the ghost of Jay’s voice lingering in her mind. For the first time in weeks, she feels like maybe, just maybe, she can find her way back to herself through the darkness.

Mia hesitates outside the door, her heart thudding so loudly that each beat seems to echo in her ears. She swallows hard, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear with trembling fingers as she fights the overwhelming urge to just leave a note and run. She hasn’t seen or spoken to Austin since the hospital, having asked for some time to herself. Truthfully, she hasn’t known what to say to him—she still doesn’t. She wishes she could keep delaying the inevitable, but she knows that wouldn’t be fair—to him or to herself.

Summoning her courage, she raises her fist and knocks. Within seconds, the door swings open. Austin’s face brightens with a warm smile, and she feels a pang of guilt twist in her stomach. “Hi,” he says lightly, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

Mia manages a small nod and crosses the threshold into the hotel suite. She folds her arms tightly over her chest and moves near the window, as though distance alone can shield her from what she’s here to do. Behind her, she hears the door click shut. His footsteps pad toward the minibar, and his voice drifts across the room—something about contractors, remodels, timelines. She barely registers the words, her own thoughts a frantic hum in her mind. You can do this.

“…He thinks they can have everything done in a few months,” Austin explains. “I know you’ve been wanting to redo the kitchen anyway.”

She finally hears him and closes her eyes, inhaling a steadying breath. “I’m not going back to that house,” Mia bites out harsher than she intended, cutting through his words. How can he think they could just go back to normal—like the last few months never happened when it takes everything in her to forget, just for a moment?

He pauses, clearly taken aback. “Okay,” he responds slowly, tone laced with caution. “That’s fine. I can have the realtor give us some insight on what updates will sell best, and then maybe we can—”

“Austin.” Her voice is firmer this time, and she turns to face him, pulling a small object from her pocket. She stares at it silently, rolling it between her fingers as she takes a few steps forward. She places her engagement ring on the coffee table, the metallic clink jarringly loud in the quiet room.

His features shift, his tentative smile fading completely. He sets down the glass he’s holding, the faintest tremor visible in his hand. “What are you doing?” Austin asks, tone almost disbelieving.

She swallows against the knot in her throat. “I meant what I said before,” she says quietly. “This isn’t working anymore.”

His eyes flick from her face to the ring, then back. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot,” he offers quickly, stepping closer. “If you need time, if you need space, that’s fine. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

She shakes her head, tongue poking out to wet her lips, “It’s not about that.”

“Then what is it about?” his voice rises slightly, something flickering in his eyes. “Is it about Jay?”

Her stomach clenches, but she tries to keep her composure. “Austin—” she begins.

His frustrated voice cuts her off, “Did something happen I don’t know about?” He runs a hand through his hair, eyes flaring with a mixture of hurt and anger. “Just tell me.”

Mia takes a deep breath, knowing that she can’t dodge the truth any longer. “I slept with him,” she says, her voice uncertain as she waits for a reaction.

The room is silent, the color draining from his face. “What?” Austin visibly recoils, a sharp edge to his tone. “When?”

“When you were in Portland,” she admits as she forces herself to meet his eyes. “Before… everything.”

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step back, as if the distance might lessen the blow. “So, what? That’s why you wanted to take a break? So you could have sex with your ex-boyfriend and not feel guilty about it?”

“No! No, that’s not—” Mia protests, but he interrupts her.

“Don’t,” he snaps, raising a hand to cut her off. “You told me there was nothing going on, Mia. And like an idiot, I believed you.”

She flinches slightly. She feels guilty for hurting him but at the same time, she doesn’t regret it. “I know it sounds cliché,” she tries to find the right words to explain, “but it just… happened. You deserve the truth. And, yes, Jay coming back into my life played a part in me wanting a break, but it’s not the only reason.”

“Then what is the reason?” he demands, exasperation bleeding into his tone. When she doesn’t respond, his anger wavers, replaced by a desperate plea. “Mia, I love you. You've been through a lot, so if you need me to give you some grace right now, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes—therapy, time apart, I don’t care. If forgiving you for this means I get to keep you, I’ll do it.” He swallows hard, “Just tell me what I have to do.”

Her eyes fill with tears, but she knows she is doing the right thing. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Austin stares at her, heartbreak etched into every line of his face. “Are you still in love with him?” he asks in a voice that trembles under the weight of the realization that he already knows the answer.

Her throat tightens, and she is unable to meet his eyes as her own catch on the diamond reflecting under the light. “You’re a good man, Austin,” Mia avoids the question, voice quiet yet somehow deafening in the silence. “You deserve someone who can be all in, who can truly love you the way you deserve. I wanted to be that person for you—I tried to be that person. But… I’m not.”

He follows her gaze to the ring before searching her face for something—a sign, a glimmer of hope—but finds nothing. “I’m so sorry,” she adds unsteadily. “I never meant to hurt you.”

His shoulders sag, the fight leaving his body. Austin exhales, the sound hollow and resigned. “Goodbye, Mia,” he finally says softly, a pained finality to his tone.

She feels a tear slip down her cheek, and she quickly swipes it away. “Goodbye,” she whispers.

Mia steps past him, the door looming ahead like a final threshold. The hallway is cold and silent as she emerges, the door closing behind her with a heavy thud. Guilt tangles with a strange sense of relief, leaving her legs unsteady. There’s an ache inside her chest where her future with Austin used to be, but she also senses something else blossoming: the faintest spark of freedom. Because that future was never real. It was an escape. For the first time in a long time, she feels like she can finally breathe.

O’Hare International was a whirlwind of hurried footsteps, rolling suitcases, and muffled announcements echoing from overhead speakers. Mia stood near the security checkpoint, her fingers twisting with each other nervously. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat, feeling the sting of unshed tears. Her stomach churned, her heart aching in ways she couldn’t quite describe. It felt familiar, though—something she had only ever experienced once before. When she was thirteen and realized that her father wasn’t coming home.

A few yards away, Jay stood beside his older brother, his duffel slung over his shoulder and his new uniform freshly pressed. His hair was buzzed shorter than she was used to, and it made him look older, more serious. As if that should somehow make him more prepared to be sent off to his possible death. But his eyes—those deep, familiar eyes she’d fallen in love with before she even realized—still held the same softness, even as they searched her face with a mix of guilt and longing.

Will squeezed his shoulder in farewell when he noticed Mia and shot her a small, reassuring smile, before giving them some space.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Jay mumbled as he stepped closer. His voice was careful, like he was afraid one wrong word might send her running.

Mia crossed her arms over her chest defensively, fighting a shiver that had nothing to do with the cool blasts of airport air conditioning. “Neither did I,” she answered, her tone edged with bitterness and hurt. It had only been a week since she found out about his enlistment—but the short time without him already felt like a lifetime.

His posture stiffened, shame written clearly across his face, “Mia—”

“You lied to me,” she cut him off harshly, her voice wavering despite the determined anger on her face. “For weeks. You let me plan our future—a future you had no intention of sharing.” She couldn’t stop the tears that began to gather in her eyes and blinked furiously to keep them at bay.

“I know,” he swallowed hard, every word heavy with regret. “I messed up. I thought maybe you’d try to talk me out of it, and I was… I was scared of losing you.” His voice cracked, and that small vulnerability only made her heart clench harder.

She exhaled a shaky breath. “Of course I would have tried to talk you out of it!” her words came out sharp, but beneath the anger was an overwhelming sadness. “You don’t just get to decide something this huge without telling me. We were supposed to do things together. You shut me out instead.”

Jay bowed his head under the weight of her words. “I know,” he repeated quietly. “And now I’m losing you anyway.”

He lifted his gaze to hers, and in that single look, she saw the regret, the longing, the fear. Another announcement came over the speakers, but the words drifted into the background. All she could focus on was Jay—the slight quiver in his breath, the desperate set of his jaw. Her eyes softened slightly, tears stinging as she blinked them back.

Suddenly, he dropped his duffel and closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands with surprising gentleness. Mia stiffened at first, but his thumbs brushed away the tears that she fought so hard against, and her anger splintered into grief.

“I can’t,” he started, voice breaking, “I can’t do this if you’re not with me. Please.”

Everything around them momentarily faded, and there was only Jay’s earnest gaze and the warmth of his hands on her skin. She wanted to fight it—wanted to hold onto the anger because it was easier than facing the heartbreak—but she couldn’t. She inhaled a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him desperately as if it would somehow keep him from leaving her.

“I forgive you,” she whispered against his chest, her tears dampening the fabric of his uniform. “I hate that you’re doing this, but I forgive you. We’ll… figure it out.”

Jay lowered his head, pressing a tender kiss to the top of her hair. His breath stuttered, and she realized he was fighting back tears of his own. “I love you so damn much,” he managed, voice thick with emotion.

Her hold tightened. “I love you too,” she mumbled.

Overhead, the final boarding call for his flight crackled through. She felt that sting of reality slice through her chest, an ache that warned her time was almost up. She looked up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes as she framed his face with both hands. “Will you come back to me?” Mia asked, the words trembling on her lips, fragile but full of hope.

“Always,” he answered without the slightest pause, his gaze steady and resolute, as if his promise alone could protect them both from whatever lies ahead. Then Jay leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that tasted of both a goodbye and a vow.

Jay sits on the edge of his couch, the remote resting idly in his hand as the Blackhawks highlights replay for the third time. The volume is low, the commentator’s voices blending into a murmur that only emphasizes the otherwise quiet apartment. His phone lies face down on the coffee table, s if hiding it might banish the temptation to call her—or at least stop him from staring at the screen, willing it to light up. For the past week, Mia has called every single night when she can’t manage to silence the memories that haunt her. They’ve talked about everything and nothing, staying on the line for as long as it takes for her breathing to even out.

He glances at his watch. 12:00 AM. The city seems to have wound down—as much as Chicago can—but he’s still wide awake, leg bouncing restlessly. The last time he sat like this, unable to stop worrying about her, she had been handing herself over to a serial killer. The thought still makes his stomach twist. Maybe she was finally able to fall asleep early, which he knows she desperately needs. Maybe she doesn’t need him tonight, which hurts and reassures him at the same time.

A sudden knock at the door jolts Jay to his feet, heart thumping against his ribs as he approaches the door cautiously to peer through the peephole. He can’t fight the smile from tugging at his lips as he unlocks and pulls open the door, and everything slows.

Mia stands under the dim hallway light, cheeks pink from the cool night air and dark hair a windblown mess. Her green eyes shine with a mixture of vulnerability and determination, and that look alone sends a tremor through his chest. He hadn’t realized just how badly he needed to see her until this very second, having thought about it every day since the hospital.

“Mia,” he breathes, relief and surprise tangling in his voice.

“Hi,” she replies softly, offering a small, unsure smile. He steps back, wordlessly inviting her inside. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still be awake,” she says, pausing near the couch. Her gaze flicks toward the TV, still playing the sports channel.

Jay shuts the door, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was… waiting for your call,” he confesses with a quiet laugh and sheepish shrug.

She bites her lip, fighting back a smile. “I was lying in bed, staring at my phone,” she trails off and turns to face him, her soft expression catching the light, “but I needed to see you.”

His pulse quickens at her words. He takes a step closer, searching her face trying to gauge where this conversation will lead. Arching a brow, his mouth quirks slightly, “Want to sit down?”

She nods, rounding the couch and settling onto the cushion. He follows suit, leaving a small space between them. Mia shifts to face him, drawing in a shaky breath before tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m just,” her shoulders deflate, her weariness palpable, “so tired.”

He doesn’t move, afraid to shatter the moment. But he has to ask, and he clears his throat gently, “Of what?”

Mia inhales through her nose and lifts her head, glancing around the apartment as she tries to find the right words. Her eyes trail up to the ceiling, and she rubs her lips together before meeting his gaze. “For the last week,” she continues, voice trembling, “you’ve been the only thing keeping me grounded. For the last few weeks, actually. Even when I…was with someone else, when everything around me was crashing down, the only person I wanted was you.”

His chest constricts from the weight of her confession. He aches to reach out, to hold her, but he resists the urge. A wave of familiarity crashes over him, remembering that night in the safehouse when everything between them shifted. Back to the way it used to be.

“You saved me,” her voice catches as the backs of her eyes sting, but she blinks back the tears and lets out a watery laugh. “Not just from… You saved me from myself. That day you walked into my office. And it terrified me.”

“Mia,” he starts but cuts himself off when she lifts a hand, nodding for her to continue.

“I’ve been scared, Jay,” she confesses, leaning forward. “Scared of letting you in again because you broke my heart. Twice.” Her voice wavers, and she notices the flash of regret in his eyes. She pushes on, though her throat feels tight. “And I let you, because I wanted so badly to be with you. But you weren’t ready, and I realize that now.”

Her voice cracks and Jay can’t help himself anymore. He shuffles closer, reaching out to grab one of her hands in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not the same person I was ten years ago,” he promises.

Lips curving into a sad but hopeful smile, she nods and squeezes his hand back. “Yeah, I’m starting to realize that.” Mia glances down at their entwined hands, eyes focusing on his thumb as it traces over her knuckles. After a few moments, she lifts her chin and inhales deeply, “I don’t want to be scared anymore.”

His throat constricts, heart beating rapidly against his chest, “What are you saying?”

She bites her lower lip, searching his eyes. “I’m saying that I’m in love with you,” she admits, lifting a weight off her shoulders that she has felt for over a decade. “And I don’t care if that means risking getting hurt again, because it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

It’s all he can do not to pull her into his arms right then. In one fluid motion, Jay closes the space between them, gently cupping her face in his hands. His fingertips brush against the smooth skin of her cheek, swiping away a strand of hair. “Mia,” he says, voice a desperate plea, “I’ve loved you since I was sixteen. Probably earlier. That never stopped, no matter how many mistakes I made, no matter what I tried to tell myself. And I promise you, I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure I never hurt you again. Not if I can help it.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and she lets out a trembling laugh. “I believe you,” she whispers, her fingers clutching his shirt as though he might disappear again if she lets go.

“Do you?” he asks, voice laced with uncertainty and hope.

“I do,” she repeats, a light shining in her eyes he hasn’t seen in what feels like a lifetime.

He leans in slowly, touching his lips to hers in a featherlight kiss, almost like a question. Mia answers by pressing closer, her breath hitching as she finally gives in. The intensity builds, every unspoken apology and promise as he licks across the seam of her lips. Her free hand curls into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer still, as if she can anchor herself in this moment. She parts her mouth, letting him deepen the kiss and sighing into his embrace.

When they finally pull apart, Jay rests his forehead against hers. A hand threads through her hair, brushing it back over her shoulder before resting firmly against her neck. “I still can’t believe you came back to me,” he whispers in awe.

Her eyes shine with tears, and she doesn’t even try to fight the grin taking over her face. “Always,” she murmurs, echoing the promise he once made and renewing it all at once.

A relieved laugh escapes him, and Jay presses a lingering kiss to the crown of her hair. “Good,” he breathes against her skin, “because I’m not letting you go this time. Not for anything.”

Mia nods, hand coming to land atop his still cradling her face, her touch warm and reassuring. “Neither am I,” she promises.

They stay like that—wrapped in each other’s arms under the soft glow of the table lamp—letting the echoes of past fears and regrets slip away. Instead, a quiet sense of hope blooms between them. It is overwhelming but after how long it took them to find their way back to each other, there’s a lightness to it. That after everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve fought for, this would finally be it. That whatever happens next, they could face.

Together.

Always.

Forever.

prev . . .

well... thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me!! i've been writing for years but original characters was something new and i'm glad you all seemed to love mia as much as i do 🥹

it's bittersweet but i'm mayyyybe close to stringing together an actual plot for a sequel? 

stay tuned 😘