#i will not have the same patience for the others

[pin-k-ink]

NO ROOM FOR DOUBT ⋆✦⋆ miya osamu

synopsis ➸ marriage isn’t supposed to feel this empty, but osamu’s starting to think you’re slipping through his fingers. he doesn’t mean to accuse you of anything, but when your coworker’s name leaves your lips one too many times, he snaps. you barely get a word in before he’s on you—angry, desperate, and determined to remind you who you belong to.

tags ➸ jealousy, insecurities, hurt/comfort, mild angst, profanity, mild dom/sub dynamics, degràdation, nípple play, dírty talking, breéding kínk, creampíe, rough séx, hand job, oral séx, praise kìnk, facial, unprotécted sèx

wc ➸ 11k

The bedroom was thick with tension as Osamu closed the book he'd been pretending to read for the past hour. Across the room, you remained diligently hunched over your desk - brow furrowed, pen scratching furiously, completely absorbed in your never-ending work. Just like every other night lately.

"Ya plannin' on joinin' me over here anytime soon?" Osamu finally broke the silence, unable to stomach being ignored and alone a moment longer. "Gettin' kinda cold and lonely in this big bed all by myself."

He made sure to inject just the right amount of heated suggestion into his tone. The kind that used to have you instantly abandoning your tasks to satisfy the mutual craving you couldn't resist giving in to. But just like every other attempt at intimacy lately, you didn't even look up from your paperwork.

"I can't, Osamu. This proposal is really important and I've got to have it ready to present first thing in the morning," you replied distractedly, hiding behind that same worn-out excuse as always. "It's going to be another couple hours at least before I can call it a night."

A muscle ticked in Osamu's chiseled jaw as his patience began eroding. This was just a never-ending cycle - you constantly burying yourself in work until you were too drained for anything other than collapsing into an exhausted, dreamless sleep far away from his arms. Meanwhile, he lay awake most nights, body thrumming with unbearable arousal and need as his mind tormented him with memories of how ravenous you'd once been for each other.

Osamu could vividly recall the exact curve of your arched spine as you'd kneel over him, all nude feminine softness and aching desperation. How your tongue would trail hot, openmouthed kisses from his navel to the drooling tip of his iron length, never taking your lidded eyes off his as you hollowed those perfect lips around his girth. The way you'd moan shamelessly around his cock when he fisted those silky tresses, using that divine warmth and pressure as the first of many selfish indulgences for the night.

He could picture the exact flare of your hips as you rode him cowgirl, riding his cock until he thought he'd slip into unconsciousness from the sheer unbearable pleasure. Those lush breasts would sway and jiggle with each erotic roll of your body, nipples pebbled with rapture as your slick walls massaged and milked every maddening inch of his thickness. Osamu always had to fight with everything in him not to lose control and start jackhammering up into that molten, velvet glove squeezing him to oblivion.

And even in the afterglow of coating your convulsing insides with his thick seed, their passion never dimmed. There was always another round of foreplay to indulge - his calloused palms branding the plush silk of your ass cheeks as he rutted against you from behind. Or his lips dragging over the aching throbbing of your clit as you shrieked through full-body shudders of bliss, actively ruining his face with your cream.

Osamu didn't care what degrading, filthy acts you subjected him to when your inhibitions were lowered. All he craved was wringing pleasure from your trembling form until you were both mindless, depraved wrecks overdosing on endorphins and the scent of your mingled passion.

But lately, his hunger went completely unslaked. You were always shutting him out, too preoccupied with your work to even touch or be touched. That blazing passion you'd once indulged so spontaneously and shamelessly had dimmed to bitter embers of resentment and stifling, endless tension.

Which was what led to Osamu's newest, most insidious torment - the poisonous creep of envy and anxiety whenever you mentioned that coworker constantly singing your praises.

Osamu tried not to let the jealousy show, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to bury those insecure feelings. You talked about your coworker constantly - this brilliant, ambitious "guy" you collaborated so closely with on major projects. Osamu couldn't help wondering if the intense admiration in your voice when you praised this man's professionalism and impressive work ethic hid something more.

After all, everyone in your family had been vehemently against you marrying someone like Osamu when you first got together. They'd wanted you to find a wealthy businessman, someone who could properly provide the lavish lifestyle they felt you deserved. But you had fallen even more deeply in love with Osamu's steadfast determination to make your chosen partnership work, despite your relatives' objections.

You'd stood firm in your commitment to the humble yet passionate chef who stole your heart. But now, years into your marriage, Osamu could feel the insidious tendril of doubt and anxiety taking root. Were you regretting your decision? Did some part of you regret not listening to your family and choosing stability and status over being saddled with someone like him?

He tried smothering those poisonous thoughts underneath the soul-deep love and adoration he had for you, convincing himself it was just irrational possessiveness. But the more you spoke about this mysterious coworker, the more Osamu's sense of inadequacy flared. This man seemingly had everything he lacked - money, ambition, societal respect. No wonder you were burying yourself in work to spend more time around someone who exemplified the qualities your family had pushed you to seek in a partner.

Osamu missed the way your relationship used to be before this gulf opened between you - back when he could surprise you at your office for a spontaneous lunch or quickie in the bathroom. He grinned reminiscently at the memories of having you bent over the desk, documents and office supplies clattering to the floor as he hungrily explored your body. You'd beg for him not to stop, to take you harder and deeper even as your coworkers milled about just outside none the wiser.

But those impromptu encounters had all but stopped over the past couple of months. Now when Osamu tried to initiate anything intimate, even at home in the privacy of your bedroom, you gently but dismissively waved him off - too tired, too preoccupied with work, or simply "not in the mood" thanks to stress. Each repeated rejection was like another dagger to his heart and his increasingly fragile ego.

So Osamu did his best to bury the hurt and the aching need you weren't fulfilling. He told himself it was just a rut your marriage was going through, that the scorching passion would inevitably rekindle once this busy period passed. You loved him - you'd sacrificed so much to be with him against your family's wishes, after all.

And yet...Osamu couldn't fully silence the nagging doubts constantly echoing in the back of his mind every time you mentioned that mysterious coworker's name. He couldn't ignore the way his chest clenched painfully whenever you praised the other man's intelligence, ambition, and impressive accomplishments - all things Osamu knew he could never provide you no matter how successful his onigiri business became.

It made him wonder if some part of you did regret the life you'd chosen, no matter how deeply you still loved him. Osamu couldn't help feeling increasingly like he wasn't enough of a man to truly satisfy the brilliant woman he'd married and adored for so many years. Like a legitimate future with someone like your admired coworker was the path you deserved, even if you didn't realize it yet yourself.

So Osamu simply withdrew more into himself, burying his hurt and hunger for your intimacy and unconsciously giving you even more space to invest yourself in work - and perhaps in another man's company without even realizing it. All because some traitorous part of his heart couldn't help wondering if he'd forever be seen as the wrong choice as a husband, no matter how selflessly he loved you.

A couple more hours dragged by in tense silence, the only sound being the occasional scratch of your pen against paper as you continued working diligently at your desk. Osamu's eyes kept flicking over to you, noticing the way the lamplight accentuated the furrow in your brow and the purse of your lips as you remained fully immersed in the proposal.

He felt the knot of frustration and desire tightening in his gut with each passing minute you diligently ignored him and the intimacy he was silently begging for. This couldn't go on any longer - he needed to feel that physical connection with you again before the ache drove him mad.

"Enough, sweetheart," Osamu stated firmly, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his voice as impatience finally won out. "Put the work down and get your gorgeous ass over here already. I'm done waitin'."

You finally looked up at him, startled by his uncharacteristically stern tone. For a beat, Osamu thought you might protest and dig your heels in about finishing the proposal. But something in his expression must have conveyed the simmering need, as you hesitated before giving a small nod.

With palpable reluctance, you set your pen aside and began gathering up the strewn paperwork into some semblance of order. Osamu watched every agonizing movement hungrily, from the way you licked your lips to the distracting sway of your hips as you pushed away from the desk at last.

He drank in every inch of you as you padded slowly toward the bed, unable to tear his eyes away. You looked disheveled yet impossibly beautiful in that oversized shirt - the one he loved seeing you lounge around in because of how easily it could slip off those soft curves with just a bit of impatient tugging.

Osamu's arousal spiked painfully as you finally settled onto the mattress beside him, close enough now that he could smell the lingering hint of your shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off your body. He didn't even try to mask the pure, wanton hunger in his gaze as it raked over your form shamelessly.

Unable to resist a moment longer, he surged forward and captured your lips in a searing, needful kiss. You made a muffled sound of surprise against his mouth but didn't pull away as his tongue boldly sought entrance. Osamu growled at the first teasing taste of you, fingers already clutching at your waist as if to pull you fully against him.

But you went rigid in his embrace, keeping a deliberate slice of distance between your bodies. When you broke the heated kiss, you turned your face away with a soft, "Not tonight, Osamu...I'm way too tired from working."

He fought not to let the biting sting of rejection show on his face, swallowing hard against it. "I've missed ya, darlin'...missed this," Osamu murmured, letting the rough pad of his thumb trace the plump swell of your lower lip in a silent plea. "Isn't there any part of ya that's missed me too?"

You hesitated, gaze skittering guiltily across his features. Something flickered in the depths of your eyes - that same dimmed spark of desire he saw more and more rarely these days. Then it was gone again, shuttered behind bone-deep weariness and excuses.

"I'm sorry, I know it's been a while..." you began, genuine regret lacing your tone. "But this proposal is really important, and I've got to be rested enough to present it to the board in the morning. I promise, after this is all over, we can..."

The unfinished reassurance trailed off into tense silence as you averted your gaze, unable or unwilling to even voice a promise of making time for intimacy again. Osamu swallowed hard, pulse thundering with mingled frustration and humiliated rejection.

So this was what it had come to - empty platitudes and obligatory excuses to avoid being touched by the husband who had once been unable to keep his hands off you. Somehow your flourishing career and singular focus on work had managed to obliterate any space for him in your world.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard against the torrent of bitterness and sorrow he refused to let overwhelm him. Without another word, he rolled over to put his back to you, fighting against the urge to simply leave and go sleep on the couch. At least then he could sink into his misery in solitude without your unintended presence serving as a constant reminder of everything he'd lost.

The next morning, Osamu awoke to the soft sounds of you getting ready for work. He lay there for a few minutes, eyes still closed as he tried to savor these final moments before the day inevitably pulled you away from him again. God, he missed the times when you used to linger in bed together before reluctantly untangling and starting your day.

Eventually, he couldn't resist sneaking a look at you. Osamu rolled onto his side, sheets pooling around his waist as he allowed his hungry gaze to roam over the alluring display you made. You were bent over the dresser in just a crisp button-down and lacy underwear, applying your makeup with those little focused furrows in your brow that he found so endearing. The firm swell of your ass was positioned enticingly in the air, practically begging for his calloused palms to shamelessly grope and knead the supple flesh.

Arousal began smoldering low in Osamu's gut as he drank in every lush inch of you. Your hair was still sleep-mussed, silky strands spilling over one shoulder in a way that made him ache to brush them aside and trail openmouthed kisses along the naked column of your neck. He found himself licking his lips instinctively, imagining the way you'd taste - how you used to whimper and arch shamelessly into his questing mouth whenever he leisurely explored your body with his own first thing in the morning.

Unable to resist the siren call a moment longer, Osamu threw off the sheets and padded silently up behind you. You jumped a little when his arms wound around your waist, the hard planes of his chest pressing flush against your back. But you didn't immediately push him away as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, sucking in a deep breath of your intoxicating scent.

"Mornin', gorgeous," Osamu rumbled, voice still gruff with sleep. He punctuated the gravelly endearment by walking his fingers tantalizingly up the soft panes of your stomach, reveling in the sharp hitch of your breath when they grazed the lace-trimmed underside of your breasts. "Ya got any time to spend with your husband before leavin' for work this mornin'?"

Something in you seemed to soften at his words, the perpetual tension temporarily ebbing from your frame. Osamu couldn't deny the molten rush of arousal that licked through his veins when you arched subtly back against him - a blatant, wanton invitation despite the strict professional attire.

"I might be able to spare a few minutes," you murmured, tilting your head to allow his lips better access to your throat.

Osamu hummed deep in his chest, the vibration thrumming against your skin as his fingertips continued their leisurely stroking and teasing. His teeth grazed the thundering pulse point at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, not quite biting but exerting enough pressure to make you stifle a whimper. He took his time working over that same maddening patch of sensitive flesh - laving with his tongue, sucking harsh little marks against your salty-sweet skin, utterly worshipping you in a way he hadn't been able to in far too long.

By the time his questing mouth finally slanted over yours, you were already pliant and shamelessly seeking more in his embrace. The kiss quickly turned molten, all clashing teeth and dueling tongues as weeks of pent-up hunger and need poured out between you both. Osamu's hands roamed greedily from your hips down to the lush curves of your ass, squeezing with shameless possession before yanking your lower body flush against the undeniable ridge of his arousal.

You mewled into his mouth, the wanton little sound shooting straight to his cock and making it judder eagerly. For an endless moment, it seemed as though you were on the precipice of giving in fully. Osamu could already envision bending you over the dresser and stuffing you absolutely full of his aching cock, uncaring of how late you'd be to work. He was drunk on the honeyed taste of your mouth, the sultry roll of your hips grinding back eagerly against him.

Then, all at once, you were breaking the heated kiss with a strangled gasp. There was a beat where you simply clung to one another, panting harshly as if struggling to rein in your spiraling lust. When you finally managed to speak, your voice was thick and throaty in a way that made Osamu's cock throb with need.

"Gods, I've missed this, missed you..." you confessed in a throaty murmur, sounding genuinely contrite. You turned in Osamu's embrace then, locking your heavy-lidded gaze with his in a way that made his heart stutter behind his ribs. The naked yearning and simmering desire he saw smoldering in your hooded eyes was like a searing brand against his already feverish skin.

"I'm so sorry for being so distant lately," you continued, chest still rising and falling with dampened little pants from the heated make-out session. One of your hands stroked a tender path down the ridged planes of Osamu's abdomen, nails lightly raking through the crisp trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his loose sleep pants. "I know the work can't be an excuse forever. I promise, tonight I'll leave the office early and we can have the whole evening together...just the two of us."

The husky timbre of your voice combined with that single, deliberate caress had Osamu's neglected cock stirring almost painfully against the flimsy fabric restraining it. He couldn't quite bite back the guttural rumble of need that reverberated up from his very core as your fingers continued their teasing exploration lower and lower. You offered the faintest of smirks as your palm finally cupped and squeezed the unmistakable shape of his rapidly stiffening length through the thin material.

"Fuck, darlin'...ya really know how to make a man suffer, don'tcha?" Osamu ground out through gritted teeth as he moved to sat down on the edge of the bed before his knees gave out entirely. He watched in rapt fascination as your tongue peeked out to wet your plump lips - a deliciously sinful invitation in its own right. But it was the imperious glint flickering to life in your eyes that truly made his cock twitch and strain against the confines of his pants, desperate to be freed and indulged.

You held his heated stare boldly as you continued shamelessly fondling and stroking him to full, throbbing hardness. There was something deliciously intoxicating about having your petite hand working his most intimate places so deliberately, as if he were powerless to resist giving you whatever depravity you desired. As if you knew precisely how badly he craved feeling that velvet grip moments before coating your knuckles in his shameless release.

"I'm not the one suffering here, babe," you purred, giving his aching shaft one final rough caress that nearly bucked his hips off the mattress. "You're the one walking around with this monster straining in your pants all damn day, just waiting for me to give it some attention."

The hairs along Osamu's nape and forearms instantly prickled at your crude observation - not from offense, but from the undeniable bolt of molten arousal zinging straight to his groin at being talked about so blatantly. He gnawed the inside of his cheek, glaring down at you with a heady mixture of reproach and smoldering desire flickering in the gunmetal depths of his stare.

You didn't back down from the challenge, letting your palm drag up and over his length in one torturously slow glide. Then deft fingers hooked into his waistband, tugging the loose material down just enough for his flushed cock to spring free with a harsh intake of breath punching from Osamu's chest. His hands fisted in the disheveled bedsheets as you wrapped your fingers around the thick, pulsing shaft in a firm grip.

"Maybe I should take care of this right now before I head into the office," you mused idly, giving him a few light pumps that had Osamu clenching his jaw to stifle a groan. "At least give me a few more hours before you start going stir-crazy thinking about me all over again..."

The words were barely out of your mouth before Osamu was surging forward, one calloused palm cupping the nape of your neck to yank you into a searing kiss. You let out a muffled yelp of surprise against his lips that was quickly swallowed by his questing tongue delving into the slick, honeyed heat of your mouth. Evidently you'd awoken the ravenous beast within by your blatant taunting and teasing - something dark and blazing now flickering to life behind Osamu's blown pupils.

"Be careful what ya tempt me with, baby girl," he rumbled in a low, gravelly warning as his hips lurched into the tight channel of your fist. "I might just take ya up on a hell of a lot more than that pretty little hand of yours..."

Your pupils blew wider at the explicit promise scorching every word, chest arching into his solid frame as your fingers instinctively tightened around his steely girth. Osamu hissed out a curse at the exquisite friction, thick droplets of precum already welling up and spilling over your pumping knuckles to ease the slick, heated glide.

You licked your lips unconsciously as your gaze dropped to drink in the vulgar sight of your fist working his flushed cock with more fervid urgency. There was an almost transfixed, rapturous look glazing over your features - as if you were utterly enthralled watching Osamu's thick length disappear between your fingers again and again in a messy rhythm. He could feel the rapidly mounting tension lancing through his spine, the telltale tingling heat sizzling out from his groin with each firm pull of your hand along his shaft.

But even as pleasure threatened to steal the last of his composure, Osamu still mustered the strength to reach down, fingers fumbling with the buttons of your dress shirt, intent on returning the favor. His pulse jackhammered against his sternum as he tugged the crisp white material away, revealing the lacy undergarment clinging to the supple swell of your breasts.

He felt the hot bloom of need flare in his gut, unable to resist the temptation to squeeze and knead the ample flesh. Your eyelids fluttered shut with a breathy moan as he toyed with your nipples, teasing them into stiff, rosy peaks that strained against the sheer lace. The air left Osamu's lungs in a harsh, strangled hiss as you tightened your grip around his swollen cock, a fresh wave of precum trickling down the flushed shaft.

It was all he could do not to simply rip the garment off you in a fit of desperate hunger. Instead, he pulled the cups down beneath the generous swell of your breasts, revealing the taut, pebbled buds and making a hungry growl reverberate deep in his chest.

"I've missed these so fuckin' much," Osamu rasped, voice hoarse with arousal. His thumbs dragged across the sensitive tips, reveling in the way they hardened further at his touch. "Been dreamin' of puttin' my mouth all over 'em again."

Without waiting for a response, Osamu leaned down and wrapped his lips around one eager nipple, letting his tongue swirl and flick over the bud. He was rewarded with a soft, breathy cry as your grip faltered, pleasure momentarily stealing away the ability to maintain the steady rhythm. But you quickly recovered, hand resuming its quick, urgent pace while the other tangled in the wild tresses at his nape, pressing his face closer into the inviting softness of your breasts.

A low, needful groan vibrated through the sensitive flesh in his mouth, making you whimper. Your nails bit into his scalp, holding him in place while his tongue worked and laved over the hardened tip, thoroughly lavishing the pebbled peak with his mouth and attention. Osamu's mind was spinning with the intoxicating blend of pleasure and need, the coil in his gut winding tighter and tighter.

He could already feel the tingling heat licking up his spine, signaling the impending explosion. There was nothing he could do to stop it, especially when your thumb swirled across the bulbous tip of his cock. Osamu tore his mouth away from your breast with a snarl, biting his lower lip until it almost bled as his hips shuddered and jerked, the first hot spurt of cum streaking across his abdomen.

He felt more than heard the satisfied hum reverberating through your chest as his cock pulsed and twitched against the slick warmth of your palm. Each new pump dragged a ragged grunt from his throat, milking the last of his release onto the flushed skin of his heaving stomach. It took a long, hazy moment for his vision to stop swimming, the aftershocks of his powerful orgasm still ricocheting through his frame.

In the delirious afterglow, Osamu couldn't resist the primal urge to roll you onto your back and splay himself over your pliant form. His body was still thrumming with the lingering tremors of ecstasy, every nerve ending humming like a livewire in the most exquisite way. But rather than feeling sated, that molten kernel of desire seemed to blaze even hotter at your flushed, thoroughly debauched appearance beneath him.

Your chest heaved with dampened little pants, spit-slick nipples straining against the thin fabric of your unbuttoned blouse. Osamu's gaze roamed shamelessly over the dusky flush staining your skin, down to where the scant lace of your underwear was already soaked through with arousal. He could still taste the honeyed tang of your essence on his tongue from devouring your mouth so ravenously.

With a rumbling groan of renewed hunger, Osamu dipped his head to trail a blazing path of open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips along the elegant column of your throat. You whimpered and arched into the delicious onslaught, clearly struggling to recover your senses enough to protest or push him away. Not that Osamu would have heeded any objections in that heated moment.

"'Samu..." you finally gasped out in a breathy whine as his questing mouth found the swell of your breasts. "I...I have to go or I'll be late..."

He merely grunted against the lush, silken mounds he'd bared so wantonly, tongue swirling over one pebbled peak before sucking the hardened nub between his lips. The broken, urgently tangled sound you made in response sent a scorching spiral of satisfaction lancing through Osamu's groin. For this solitary, lust-drenched instance, you were his again - the gorgeous, needy wife who used to tremble and beg for him to take his time devouring every lush inch.

"Don't think 'bout leavin' this bed until I've had my fill, darlin'," he rumbled, voice pitching even lower and rougher with naked longing.

Perhaps he should have been embarrassed by the wanton, possessive words spilling so unrestrainedly from his lips. But Osamu was too deliriously drunk on the taste and scent and feel of you, the opportunity to rekindle the blazing passion you'd both been so callously denying for far too long. He could already feel the thick insistence of his cock rapidly regenerating between your bodies, seeking that slick source of intoxicating velvet heat.

You seemed to read the explicit intent smoldering behind his hooded stare. With visible effort, you reached up to gently but firmly push against Osamu's shoulders, demurring even as your chest continued rising and falling with shallow pants of desire.

"I really do have to go," you murmured again, licking your plump lips in a completely unconscious gesture Osamu couldn't tear his eyes from. "But...I promise tonight will be just for us. No distractions or work, just you and me reacquainting ourselves properly."

Your sincerity and the dark, heated vow behind those words punched the breath from Osamu's lungs in a trembling exhalation. Part of him - the part that had been aching and insecure for so long now - longed to open his mouth and spill every pent-up insecurity and anxiety. To voice the ugly wonderings that had been festering over whether you harbored deeper regrets about the paths your lives had taken together.

"Do ya...have any regrets?" He found himself rasping out before he could reconsider voicing his private torment. "About us, I mean. Marryin' a guy like me instead of—"

The shrill trill of your phone sliced through the weighted air like a cold slash of sobriety, effectively derailing Osamu's spiraling train of thought. You both froze, heads whipping toward the maddening sound with identical expressions of startled disruption.

Then, as if through a physical force, Osamu felt his stomach plummet all over again when he saw the name that had lit up your screen, accompanying that godforsaken ringtone.

Him. That overly accomplished, smooth-talking coworker you were always praising and mentioning incessantly, whether you realized the implication or not. Osamu's jaw clenched hard enough to grind his molars audibly, hot lance of bitter jealousy flaring with staggering potency. He wanted to ignore the call completely, grab you by the shoulders and shake the truth out of you then and there. Demand honesty about the nature of your relationship with this asshole who always seemed to interrupt and insert himself into their lives, even inadvertently.

But just like that, the rapturous spell you'd both temporarily fallen under was obliterated. Perhaps sensing the drastic shift in Osamu's energy, you quickly sat up and smoothed your disheveled appearance before answering with a terse: "This is [Y/N]. Yes, I was just..."

Osamu barely registered your muffled conversation as white-hot lances of jealousy and resentment pierced through his heartbeat in crashing waves. He simply couldn't stomach listening to the familiar, upbeat tones you always used whenever discussing anything related to that insufferable coworker. The one whose very existence always sent Osamu spiraling into pits of doubt and masculine inadequacy no matter how much logic dictated otherwise.

With stiff, jerky movements, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stooped to hastily tug his pants back into place. His jaw was still clenched so tightly he could feel the tendons straining, every snapping motion charged with scarcely restrained frustration. Part of Osamu didn't even know where this combustible mixture of emotions was coming from - only that it had been abruptly stoked into an inferno within his chest at the sound of that man's name on your lips yet again.

He needed to get out, to escape the suddenly suffocating confines of your bedroom before he had a chance to let the uglier side of his temper detonate in your direction undeservedly. Osamu knew damn well you didn't owe him anything, let alone an explanation for simply taking a call about work in the middle of your morning routines. It was his own traitorous demons and self-doubts rearing their insidious heads yet again.

You'd just begun to make a sincere effort at bridging the distance that had calcified between you, after all. And then he'd managed to go and ruin the moment in spectacular fashion as always. Osamu cursed beneath his breath, shoving his feet into the nearest pair of sandals with jerky impatience as he prepared to storm out and spend the day holed up at the restaurant letting the ovens scour the resentment from his system.

Just as he was yanking on his t-shirt, your soft voice cut through the haze of turmoil ricocheting through his skull: "Osamu, wait..."

He froze in place, muscles coiled tensely as you stepped into his space and pressed your palms over the flushed, taut planes of his abdomen. Your eyes were large and imploring as you tipped your face up towards his, bottom lip caught between your teeth in an unconscious gesture that stirred his lingering lust despite the tangled knot of conflicting emotions.

"I know the timing was awful, but you have to know that call didn't change anything," you murmured, trailing the words against the stubbled line of his jaw in a soft caress. "Tonight is for us, 'Samu. Just you and me with no more interruptions, I swear it."

Those silky reassurances seemed to simultaneously drench Osamu's temper in a dampening balm while stoking the embers of longing and reaffirmation you'd awoken deep within him. He leaned unconsciously into your touch, letting his eyes drift shut as you pressed a lingering kiss to the thundering pulse at his throat. You knew just how to gentle the storm within him, how to properly tame the roiling storm of chaotic need and desire ever-present just beneath his surface restraint.

"You'd better keep that promise, my gorgeous girl," Osamu rasped out gruffly, suddenly lacking the energy to maintain any semblance of distance or aloofness. Abandoning his half-hearted escape attempt, he wound his arms around your waist and crushed you flush against his bare chest. God, how he'd missed the contoured perfection of your body molded to his, the soft delirious surrender of your mouth pillowing into his as the kiss deepened.

After several breathless, devouring moments, you were the one who finally broke away with obvious reluctance. There was an adorable, swollen temptation clinging to your features that made heat bloom anew in Osamu's groin.

"I should...I should really get going before I'm any later," you managed, despite the way your palms drifted aimlessly along his flanks in mute contradiction. "Just...try to have a good day, okay? And be ready to make good on that promise tonight."

The reminder of your imminent departure momentarily dampened the rekindled blaze licking through Osamu's veins, though he managed a faint nod through the disappointment. There would be no more delaying the outside world's demands this morning, he recognized begrudgingly.

"Yeah, darlin', you go on and take care of your business," he rumbled, forcing a tight smirk in place. "I'll be right here waitin' to take damn good care of you later."

With one final, searing look of naked longing and affection, you slipped from his embrace and bustled around to collect your things. Osamu leaned back against the wall and admired every efficient movement and enticing flash of bare skin exposed by your mussed attire. He knew better than to try stealing any further moments beyond what you'd already indulged. Tonight would come, and with it the chance to reconnect with you in all the ways he'd been starving for lately.

That glimmer of hope and rekindled anticipation was enough to infuse Osamu with much-needed patience as he finally watched you head out the door, throwing a coy glance over your shoulder. For the first time in months, the future felt more like an endless oasis to indulge in rather than an empty desert to be endured.

The muffled ticking of the bedside clock seemed to reverberate through Osamu's skull like a steadily amplifying drum of dread. Midnight had come and gone over an hour ago, each agonizing minute distorting into excruciating suspense as he waited impatiently for you to arrive home as promised.

He'd closed up the restaurant early for once, something he almost never allowed for fear of disappointing the loyal patrons who depended on the Miya name. But tonight was supposed to be different - a rare evening reserved solely for reconnecting with the wife he adored yet had been neglecting for far too long. So Osamu made the sacrifice without a second thought, eager to slip into your shared home and set the scene for a night of indulgent intimacies.

Which was why he currently sat perched on the edge of your rumpled bed, stripped down to just his loose sleep pants in anticipation. Flickering candlelight danced in a sensual halo across the dimly lit space, blending with the heated aromas of scented oils he'd taken care to prepare. An indulgent spread of chilled sake and decadent fruits had been arranged on the bedside table, standing ready for whenever you finally saw fit to arrive.

Osamu's jaw clenched hard as his eyes flicked once more to the glowing numbers of the clock, each one seeming to mock his vigil more cruelly than the last. Where the hell were you? What could possibly be keeping you so unconscionably late after making such emphatic promises about spending one uninterrupted evening reacquainting yourselves on every conceivable level?

He fought not to let his mind spiral down the darkest avenues, to those insidious tendrils of self-doubt and virulent envy that had taken root thanks to your increasing emotional distance lately. Osamu knew where those toxic paths led - to irrational accusations, defensive postulating, and the exact sort of explosive confrontation that could shatter the fragile new understanding you'd seemingly reforged earlier in the morning.

And yet the minutes continued their merciless tick...tick...tick down to oblivion, each one stoking Osamu's restless frustration into an inextinguishable furnace despite his best efforts. You'd sworn there would be no more distractions tonight, nothing to divert your attentions from properly reconnecting after so much strain and deprivation between you both. He'd believed you with every fiber of his soul, clinging to that hushed promise like a man dying of thirst finally being offered the sweetest oasis to drink from.

But here he sat, alone and slowly twisting within the flames of his own insecurities and irrational resentments as the night stretched on interminably. Surely you wouldn't be so cruel, so selfish as to actually disregard everything you'd—

The rattle of keys in the front door snapped Osamu from his spiraling torment like a rubberband violently released. He was on his feet in an instant, bare chest heaving from the rapid thundering of his pulse as hurried footsteps approached. There was only the barest glimmer of composure in his expression by the time you came into view, haloed in the soft lighting with your usual unruffled elegance noticeably brittle around the edges.

"Hey, I'm so sorry it took so—" You jolted at the utterly thunderous look twisting Osamu's normally unshakable features. It was as if you'd stepped directly into the crosshairs of a volatile storm system, the roiling tumult threatening to obliterate you where you stood.

"Don't," he bit out through gritted teeth, the words escaping on a scorched exhale. "Whatever excuse ya think ya got, I don't wanna hear it right now."

Your eyes widened fractionally at his harsh tone, so uncharacteristically biting and laced with venom he usually kept on a brutally leashed tether around you. Perhaps you sensed the dangerous inferno searing through Osamu's veins in that loaded moment, the rage and desolation rapidly overriding any attempts at patience or understanding.

"This was s'posed to be our night, just the two of us reconnectin' after so much bullshit strain and distance," Osamu seethed, taking an inadvertent step forward on legs that felt like they may give out from all the unreleased tension. "But ya blew that off, same as everythin' else lately. Can't even be bothered to show up and make an honest try at it—"

"Osamu, that's not fair at all!" You cut him off with a flash of your own bristling defensiveness. "You know this new project has been crazy for everyone in the office lately. Sasaki needed some files finished up for the big meeting tomorrow, so I—"

The mention of that name was like a razor slashing through the final taut threads of Osamu's restraint. His vision whited out momentarily, a primal roar of fury ripping from deep within his straining chest.

"Don't you dare say that snake's name in front of me right now, not after all his bullshit is what caused this whole fuckin' mess!" Osamu bellowed, unable to control the torrent of rage and accusation lashing out in every direction now.

You recoiled as if struck, eyes widening with genuine shock at the venom dripping from Osamu's words. "What the hell are you talking about, Osamu? Bringing Sasaki into this?"

He let out a harsh, derisive bark of laughter completely devoid of mirth. "Don't act so damn clueless! Ya really think I'm blind to everything that's been goin' on lately?"

Whirling away from you, Osamu raked his hands through his disheveled hair with a ragged groan. "Ya can't even be bothered to show up for one goddamn night after promisin' me - promisin' your own husband - that you'd actually make time for us. Instead ya let that wormy son of a bitch take priority over me, over this marriage, just like always!"

He punctuated his outburst by sweeping an arm across the bedside table, sending the sake bottle and plate of fruit clattering to the floor in a violent clatter. You flinched bodily at the outburst, more stunned than anything by the sudden shift into such ferocious rage.

"I don't understand... What does Sasaki have to do with any of this?" you demanded, hands curling into fists at your sides. "He's my colleague, Osamu - my coworker on this huge make-or-break project. You're acting completely insane right now!"

"Oh I'm insane?" he snarled, wheeling back to face you with eyes made incandescent by the inferno of betrayal raging within. "That's rich comin' from the wife who's been slowly driftin' away to give all her time and attention to another man!"

The vicious accusation seemed to hang there, reverberating through the tense silence as Osamu stared you down with heaving breaths. You opened and closed your mouth once, twice, before the hurt and outrage finally burst free in a trembling torrent.

"How dare you..." The whisper was barely audible over the thundering of blood in your ears. "How dare you even suggest that I would...that I could ever..."

You didn't bother finishing the thought, simply hurling it aside as you stalked towards him with fury lending each step a razor's edge. "You bastard! How could you accuse me of something so vile, so unfathomably disgusting?"

Osamu held his ground even as you drove into his space, eyes blazing and jaw so tightly clenched he wondered if molars might start fracturing under the strain. "Well why the hell else would ya keep brushin' me off like some irrelevant afterthought whenever that prick's name gets brought up?"

That earned him a hard shove to the chest that made him stumble back a step. "Because he's my project manager, you insensitive prick! We've been working around the clock to pull this massive deal together, not carrying on some tawdry affair behind your back!"

Osamu opened his mouth, a scathing retort undoubtedly primed to further stoke the raging inferno engulfing you both. But you barreled forward, far too swept up in your own torrent of indignation to give him the chance.

"I can't believe you'd think I was capable of that, of betraying you like that!" You were nearly shouting now, treading the terrifying line of pushing too far with your vehement denial. "Have I really fallen so low in your eyes, Osamu? Have you completely lost all respect for me as your wife just because I've been stressed with work?"

The words seemed to splinter something inside him, shattering the final vestiges of Osamu's tenuous restraint like a wrecking ball through glass. This wasn't how tonight was supposed to go - not even remotely close. Yet here you both were, lashing out with scorching recriminations and accusations so poisonous they could permanently scald the bond you'd been fighting so hard to preserve.

The tension escalated rapidly as deep-seated insecurities and resentments came pouring out from Osamu in a torrent of anguished words.

"You think I'm blind?" he rasped, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides. "I see the way ya talk about him - all admirin' and impressed. Like he's exactly the kinda successful, ambitious man ya wish ya coulda ended up with instead of a guy whose biggest accomplishment is plowin' rice into little seaweed pockets."

Osamu's throat bobbed convulsively, the swell of emotion he'd fought so hard to keep tamped down suddenly rupturing free without restraint. "Don't try denyin' it, darlin'. We both know your family never wanted this for ya - never wanted some third-rate chef as a son-in-law when ya deserved someone who could actually give ya a real, prosperous future."

You opened your mouth to protest - whether to rail against his baseless accusations or to deny the awful truth ringing out from his words, it was impossible to say. But Osamu simply barreled forward, finally giving voice to every twisted vine of anxiety and inadequacy that had been slowly strangling him from the inside out.

"I ain't blind to how impressive that asshole Sasaki must seem in comparison," he forced out in a guttural rasp. "'Course ya had to go fallin' for his fake charms and prestigious career instead of stayin' happy with a foolish dreamer like me who hasn't accomplished a godddamn thing outside the kitchen..."

There was so much raw, visceral pain laced into the venom now, to the point where it seemed to sap the very fire thrumming through Osamu's veins. His shoulders slumped infinitesimally as the next words escaped in a broken exhalation that may as well have torn straight from the tattered remnants of his heart:

"Bet ya regret it nowadays, don't ya? Regret waitin' around for me to finally become a man who deserves someone as outta my league as you..."

The weighted silence that followed could have been sliced with a heated blade. Osamu's chest heaved raggedly with the exertion of finally purging that bottle of poisonous self-loathing and desperate jealousy he'd allowed to steep unchecked for far too long. He couldn't even meet your widened stare, afraid of what condemnation or twisted sense of validation he might find reflecting back in your eyes.

When you finally did speak, the words were laced with a mordant, simmering fury that very nearly made Osamu flinch.

"You absolute fool..." Your voice shook with the sheer effort of leashing your own outrage at such egregiously unfounded accusations. "We've built an entire life together - made innumerable sacrifices and shed blood, sweat and tears to stay by each other's sides against all resistance. And you have the audacity to stand there and suggest I've been regretting my choice the whole time?"

Osamu did flinch then at the naked hurt bleeding into your tone, even as you took a threatening step forward into his space. "You think I give a damn about some uppity corporate suit's status or paycheck? That shallow, meaningless bullshit like money and prestige means anything to me compared to finding a man with the strength of conviction to relentlessly pursue his own dreams and passions?"

Your eyes glittered with unshed tears and something infinitely more searing - the look of utter betrayal that comes from having one's most profoundly held beliefs and principles insulted so grossly. "I chose you, Osamu. Not because I settled or had limited options, but because I saw a fiercely ambitious man who refused to let anything deter him from the path he'd chosen. Who am I to judge or look down on that resolve when it's the very thing that's taken you this far in life and made your wildest dreams into reality?"

You uttered a choked, incredulous bark of laughter then, thumbing away the treacherous moisture from your lashes. "And yet here you are, somehow twisting my admiration and commitment into some kind of damning regret? As if I'd ever be shallow enough to toss away everything we've fought for just because some stuffed shirt made more money than the husband I willingly chose to spend my life with?"

The words hung there, searing into Osamu's skin like a brand of recrimination and disgrace that he knew he'd never fully recover from. His throat worked uselessly as his mouth dried up completely, every fresh inhale feeling like shards of glass being slowly dragged down his esophageal lining.

"Darlin', I—" Osamu's words caught in his throat, the apology and desperate plea for understanding withering on his tongue.

Your expression hardened as you watched him struggle, lips pressed into a flat line. For a tense moment, it seemed like you might indeed turn and storm away, leaving Osamu to wallow in the shattered ruins of his unfounded accusations and misplaced jealousy.

But then your features softened almost imperceptibly. You seemed to truly take in the picture he made - shoulders slumped, eyes downcast with naked shame and regret, hollow ache etched into the lines of his face. Slowly, you bridged the distance between you until you could reach out and gently cup his bristled jaw, coaxing his gaze up to meet yours.

"Oh 'Samu..." you murmured, thumb tracing the sharp plane of his cheekbone. "How long have you been torturing yourself with all these insecurities?"

He worked his jaw but no sound emerged save a ragged exhalation. Osamu felt utterly flayed open and exposed under the weight of your searching stare. As if you could see straight through to the twisted tangle of self-doubt and desperate possessiveness that had steadily tightened its vice-like grip around his heart.

You simply shook your head, features etched with a complicated mixture of sadness, exasperation, and that bone-deep affection he'd watched himself slowly burying over the past weeks and months. "All this time, you've been utterly convinced I was unhappy, that I was regretting my choice to be with you. When the truth couldn't be more opposite..."

Leaning in, you pressed your brow to Osamu's and simply held there for a long, grounding moment. He could feel the featherlight sweeps of your exhales fanning across his skin, smell the warm, comforting fragrance of your hair enveloping his senses. It was like your mere presence acted as a balm against the rawest, most inflamed parts of him.

"I don't know exactly when or how we let ourselves drift so far apart," you eventually continued in a murmur meant only for him. "All I know is how unbearable the distance became, feeling you slipping further and further away from me with each passing day. Maybe I did get too wrapped up in work and missed the warning signs..."

Osamu shuddered out a shaky breath, feeling the knot of shame and guilt inside him swell larger. Your understanding, your infinite well of empathy and wisdom that he'd somehow deluded himself into believing you'd grown contemptuous of - it was all still here, still the most beautiful facet of the woman he'd fallen for all those years ago. How could he have been so blind? So deeply steeped in insecurity and baseless resentments to lash out at you in such a vile manner?

As if sensing his spiraling self-flagellation, you cradled the nape of his neck and pulled him into a searing kiss that he instantly melted into. It was a kiss filled with forgiveness and reaffirmation, a reminder of the profoundly deep love and unwavering devotion you'd sworn to one another through all the hardships thrown your way. When you finally parted, Osamu chased your mouth with a low, plaintive rumble of unvarnished need.

"I'm here, 'Samu," you reassured him with solemn conviction. "We're going to find our way back to each other, just like we always have. But you have to start learning to trust me again. To trust in the choice I made to have you as my partner through everything life throws our way, no matter what."

Osamu could only nod helplessly against the crown of your head, arms tightening their embrace as if you might simply evaporate into the ether without his anchor. He felt hollowed out, scraped raw from finally lancing the fetid well of poisonous emotions he'd allowed to fester for far too long.

But beneath the shame and regret still simmering dimly, a new spark of warmth kindled to life within his chest. You hadn't given up on him, on them, despite his unforgivable lapse of faith. If anything, your understanding and patience seemed to burn brighter in the aftermath of such an explosive confrontation.

"I never stopped trustin' you, darlin'," he rasped out in a voice made husky from the night's tumultuous purging. "Not really. Just got so twisted up in my own bullshit fears of not bein' enough for ya that I...I let it blind me to everythin' else."

Pulling back just enough to brush away the dampness clinging to your lashes, Osamu managed a wan smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ya deserve so much more than some deadbeat who lets his own demons make him lash out at the best thing he's ever had."

You shook your head mutely, fingers tracing the sharp curve of his cheek with infinite tenderness. "That's where you're wrong, 'Samu. I don't want or need anything 'more' than you - than this life and family and partnership we've created together through the years."

Ducking your head, you pressed a soft kiss Just above the thundering pulse at his throat, seeming to savor the solidity of him against your mouth. "Maybe that's where I failed you too. Got so wrapped up in my own career ambitions that I didn't reassure you enough of how precious you are to me."

Osamu shivered at the whisper-light caress of your lips slowly mapping across the column of his neck, your breath fanning in warm gusts against his sensitized skin. There was an achingly familiar heat rapidly rekindling low in his abdomen despite his emotional rawness - like an instinctive, Pavlovian response to your intimate proximity and worship after so much bitter starvation.

"Ya still chose me over everythin' y'know," he managed in a low, strained rasp as your mouth continued blazing an indulgent path towards his collarbone. "Despite all the bullshit expectations and pressures tryin' to push ya towards greener pastures, ya fought to be by my side. Never really understood how that didn't scare a gorgeous, brilliant woman like you away for good..."

A tremor shuddered through Osamu's frame at the deliberate graze of your teeth Just below his ear, the shock of blunted sensation bordering on pain yet stoking the slow smolder between his hips into an inferno. He could feel his cock rapidly stiffening within the loose confines of his sweats, aching arousal pulsing thickly as your mouth meandered lower.

"Maybe the real question..." you purred in a voice gone husky with a new and deliciously different kind of need. "...is whether you think I regret my choice now when you're standing here all hard and fuckable and completely irresistible to me?"

The shockingly filthy endearment combined with the questing path your fingers had begun to blaze down Osamu's abdomen, dipping just below the tempting waistband of his clothes, made his eyelids flutter closed with a harsh exhalation. You knew exactly which of his buttons to push, what incendiary combination of pleasure and praise could undo his restraint at the drop of a hat.

Something wild and ravenous flickered to life behind his lust-glazed eyes as Osamu hauled you flush against him, the evident ridge of his arousal grinding into the soft give of your belly between your bodies. There would be no more talking for the moment, he decided with a low rumble vibrating against your mouth. Just the two of you indulging in the most profoundly intimate form of communication after being starved of it for far too long.

The raw neediness quickly bled away any lingering awkwardness or heavy emotional weight between you. In its place thrummed that deliriously familiar charge - the revved tension of two lifelong partners who knew every intimate tell and trick to unraveling one another with ruthless precision.

"God, I've missed this..." Osamu growled against the swell of your throat, teeth scraping just firmly enough to make you shudder. "Missed havin' ya spread out and whinin' for more of this cock like the rapturous little slut ya are."

You whimpered at the dark timbre of his words, tilting your head back on instinct to bare more of your neck's vulnerable expanse. Despite the crude endearment, you could feel slick arousal already dampening your inner thighs at Osamu's molten promises. This was the raw, unrestrained husband you'd been starving for too - the one who wielded filth and adoration in equally devastating measures.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunted breathlessly, raking blunt nails down the ridges of his abdomen. "Fill me up already, make me your whore for wasting so much time..."

A punched-out groan rattled up from Osamu's chest as he hauled you impossibly closer, thick cock twitching insistently against your clothed belly. "Oh I'm gonna take my sweet time, baby girl. Gonna ruin that greedy lil' cunt 'til you're nothin' but a soppy, overstuffed mess beggin' for air..."

There was no more need for foreplay or delicate reintroductions as you both rapidly descended into your basest headspaces. You simply tore at his sweatpants with ravenous impatience until Osamu's thick, flushed length sprang free and into your eager fist. He snarled against the sting of your palm working his shaft in rough, decisive strokes meant to bring him to the very precipice before you'd even entertained the idea of lining him up to your entrance.

But that was the beautiful dance you'd perfected over years of pushing each other's limits - winding one another up into such blazing states of desperation that the eventual payoff was nothing short of psychedelic euphoria. Osamu's huge palms were already shoving up the thin fabric of your top, exposing your bare breasts to his calloused adulation as he rutted shamelessly against your pumping fist.

"Not gonna last if ya keep that up, my gorgeous little cumslut..." he gritted out in a strangled rasp, foregoing any further niceties. "Better start puttin' that cock-hungry mouth to good use already if ya want a chance at gettin' bred tonight..."

Dropping instantly to your knees, you simply quirked a taunting brow up at your husband's wrecked expression before guiding the blunt, drooling tip of his length between your already slicked lips. Osamu gathered your hair in his fist and simply held for a beat, watching the obscene way his swollen girth disappeared in and out of your welcoming warmth with a rapturous expression.

"There's my pretty lil' cockwarmer," he groaned, canting his hips to sink a fraction deeper. "Fuck, been dyin' to have that hot lil' tongue of yours back on my dick..."

The rest of his words melted into a low, animalistic snarl as you bobbed down and swallowed around him, coaxing a fat, pearly droplet of pre-cum from his tip. The rich, salty flavor flooded your senses and made you moan eagerly, the vibrations making Osamu's eyes flutter shut and his cock throb heavily in your grasp.

He looked like a veritable Adonis standing there framed in the moonlight, towering and muscled and utterly, deliciously ruined by the way your lips and tongue were working him over. But the best part was the way he watched you with rapt, devouring attention, utterly spellbound by the lewd, wet sounds emerging from the union of your mouth and his swollen shaft.

It was a heady rush of power to have such a formidable man at the mercy of your mouth - to know you'd driven him so delirious with arousal and affection that he could barely restrain the need to come undone. But you could already feel the telltale tension beginning to tighten in his thighs, the rapid rise and fall of his broad chest as Osamu's breath turned ragged.

"Not gonna last," he finally grunted out in a gravelly rasp, the fingers fisted in your hair clenching involuntarily. "Want my cum all over that pretty lil' face instead of down your throat..."

You simply hummed an eager affirmative, working your fist faster as the wet, rhythmic sounds of suction and friction escalated. The lewd, filthy squelches of you worshipping his cock filled the space, along with the broken, needy groans and muttered obscenities that Osamu couldn't contain anymore.

His hips were snapping forward erratically now, driving his swollen length further and deeper until you were nearly choking. The sight of you kneeling there with his shaft buried down your throat and tears clinging to your lashes made something savage and possessive rear up inside Osamu, something that had been repressed and starved for far too long.

It didn't take more than a few seconds after you hollowed out your cheeks and swirled your tongue around his pulsing girth for him to finally come undone. You felt the instantaneous warning flex and throb of his cock against your tongue, heard the sharp curse ripped from his lips as Osamu spilled his thick, scalding release across your face and the slope of your breasts.

It was an obscene and utterly debauched picture, one that made you moan and rock your hips desperately against nothing as your own arousal flared to a fever pitch. But the look of awe and unhinged lust painted across Osamu's face was more than enough to send a fresh jolt of wetness slicking between your thighs.

He stood there panting for a long moment, staring down at you like the vision straight out of his most depraved dreams. His thumb slowly swept through the thick, pearly ropes painting your skin before tracing the swell of your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open so he could feed you a few decadent, musky drops.

"God, look at that..." Osamu murmured in a gravel-rough voice, gaze glazed over with the kind of pure, primal desire that made you whimper helplessly as he slowly brought you back up to your feet. "Haven’t seen ya like this since our honeymoon, darlin'...Look so damn ravishing with all my cum paintin' that pretty lil' face..."

A breathless gasp punched out of your lungs at the first questing touch between your thighs, the shock of sensation nearly blinding as it ricocheted through you. You were so wound up from sucking his cock that Osamu could have probably slid home without any additional prep, the evidence of that fact seeping from your soaked entrance in a steady trickle.

"Already soaked through yer panties for me, huh?" he purred, thumb stroking your slit teasingly. "What's got ya so worked up, baby girl? Was suckin' my dick really that excitin' for ya?"

Osamu was already tugging aside the drenched scrap of fabric, exposing you completely to the cool night air and his ravenous gaze. He was hard again, already straining against the cradle of your hips as he dragged the fat, glistening head of his cock through your folds.

"Think I remember this bein' the most excitin' part for ya..." he mused, sinking just the tip in and groaning as you immediately clenched and fluttered around him. "When I'd fuck ya slow and sweet, lettin' ya feel every inch as I sank into yer cunt."

A helpless cry wrenched itself from your throat at the first slow, achingly decadent stretch, your spine arching instinctively and hips bucking for more. It was exactly as Osamu remembered, the perfect, sinful way you took him so eagerly - all hot, velvety grip and clenching pressure that drove him steadily closer to the brink.

But the pace was torturously, maddeningly slow - a sensual glide of friction and heat and breathless kisses until you felt like you were about to combust. You clung to him, clawing desperately at his back and shoulders as he pinned you to the wall with his weight, driving his cock into you again and again with a relentless rhythm.

"Oh god...yes..." you whined, voice pitching higher as Osamu's mouth latched onto your throat, teeth sinking in just sharply enough to make you sob. "Fuck, I missed this, 'Samu...filling me up so full of your cock...missed you fucking me like you own me..."

He swore viciously, hips snapping forward so sharply that you could have sworn his tip kissed the deepest reaches of you. Osamu's eyes were glassy and blown black with need, mouth swollen and red from the brutal kiss you'd pulled him into. He looked almost wild, a feral, untamed version of your husband who seemed ready to consume you whole.

"I do own you, baby girl..." he snarled, hand slipping between you to stroke your swollen clit. "This gorgeous little cunt was made for my cock, right? Can't get enough of the way I'm fillin' ya up, can ya?"

You cried out in agreement, legs locking tighter around his waist and nails raking across the planes of his back. Osamu's touch was unerringly precise, knowing just how and where to stimulate you to bring about the most devastating of orgasms. Your head fell back with a wordless wail, body going taut as the pleasure crested and shattered inside you.

Osamu kept driving into you, fucking you through the orgasm and straight towards the next one as he chased his own release. He was babbling filthy nonsense into the crook of your neck, praises and oaths and filth mixed together into a desperate, unintelligible litany. You could feel the slick glide of his cock and the renewed gush of your juices from the overstimulation, the obscene sounds of it all ratcheting your desire higher still.

It wasn't until his cock began to swell and twitch within the grasp of your cunt, spitting ropes of seed deep inside you, that Osamu finally slowed and went boneless against you. He slumped forward, trapping you between his sweat-slicked frame and the wall at your back, still buried to the hilt.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the harsh drags of your breaths and the distant sounds of the ocean lapping at the shore. There was no need for words, just the warm, comforting embrace of a bond and trust renewed.

"We're not done here," Osamu finally rumbled, voice low and raspy with lingering need. "M’ not gonna be satisfied 'til I've had ya in every single room of this place. On the porch. In the kitchen. Even the damn balcony."

A soft, incredulous laugh bubbled up from your chest, but it quickly morphed into a wanton moan when his hips rocked into you. You were already growing wetter, more sensitive, with each languid stroke of his cock.

"I don't think my body could handle a marathon sexcapade like our honeymoon, 'Samu," you managed to gasp out.

A wolfish smirk stretched across his face at the memory of how you'd spent most of your first week together as newlyweds - utterly debauched and insatiable and ravenous for one another.

"We'll see about that, darlin'."

[kunareads]

how you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

you and satoru fulfill the prophecy (he picks you up, pulls them down, turns you around).

prev / next

series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 4.7k

satoru "filthy mouth" gojo!!! i had to stop writing this multiple times because of what he does to me. PART 3 VALENTINE'S DAY (comment for taglist)

content: fluff and SMUT! even more tension, you and satoru are once again the subjects of internet speculation, making out, 69, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, pronebone, cowgirl, he's very much in control here

18+ please i block children <3

+++

the internet does what it does best: fill in the blanks.

neither of you say anything. no statements, no denials, no acknowledgments. but speculation spreads like wildfire.

it started small. the blurry afterparty photos, the red carpet chemistry dissection, the think pieces about hollywood's most unexpected flirtation. the usual.

then you post an instagram story.

nothing special. just a close-up of a wine glass, city lights blurred in the background. no context, no caption. but the fans? they think they know.

twitter erupts.

@/satorumess: not to be crazy but i mapped out their locations based on timestamps and—

@/fulltimeshipper: this is worse than when the CIA redacted half that UFO document

@/ynupdates: y/n posting a cryptic story the same night satoru is spotted downtown… oh we are in the trenches forreal

then, satoru likes a tiktok.

a slow-motion edit of you in your red carpet and afterparty looks, set to some dramatic song, captioned this woman is dangerous, your honor.

he doesn't comment, doesn't follow the account. just leaves one single like. and the internet implodes.

@/fandomedits: nah this isn't pr this is a man down BAD

@/popcultupdates: GOJO SATORU LIKING THIRST EDITS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT WE HAVE LOST HIM COMPLETELY

@/ynstan: this man saw a slo-mo thirst edit and said "yeah let me cosign that"

but it gets worse.

an old clip resurfaces. a red carpet from last year. you and satoru, near each other but never interacting. a moment that meant nothing—until now.

fans slow it down, zoom in, analyze every tiny detail:

satoru steps onto the carpet, and your eyes flick toward him, barely noticeable.

he glances in your direction.

there's a beat where he exhales, seems to collect himself—something no one caught before.

and suddenly, it's evidence.

@/fathergojo: why do their interactions feel like deleted scenes from a romcom

@/yninvestigator: guys. GUYS. what do you MEAN she looked at him FIRST. what do you MEAN HE TOOK A BREATH AND LOOKED AWAY.

@/stanwars: suddenly i believe in fate. suddenly i understand greek tragedies.

apparently, none of this is new.

you and satoru are just catching up.

+++

+++

satoru isn't good at waiting.

patience isn't exactly his strong suit, but when the reward is this good? he doesn't mind.

you walk in like the last week never happened. like the chaos never even registered.

the rooftop lighting catches the silk of your dress, the shine of your jewelry, the sheen of your lips. it makes you look untouchable.

attention follows you effortlessly. heads turn, backs straighten. someone says something, you smile—polite, charming, distant. you're impossible not to watch.

and satoru watches.

he's become acquainted with the effect you have, but it hits harder tonight than it did a week ago.

because now he knows how you taste.

the glass in his hand is cool, condensation falling between his fingers. he takes a sip, tracking you, cataloging details no one else would catch.

the way your shoulders shift, subtle, as you get closer.

the flick of your gaze toward him before you fully reach him.

you stop beside him, close enough for the scent of your perfume to settle between you.

a pause before you meet his eyes.

"so… how's your week been?" you ask, tone light, a smile gracing your features.

satoru exhales a laugh, tipping his glass like a toast. "surprisingly quiet. you?"

as you talk, your fingers trace the rim of your glass. he watches. you let him.

he leans in when he speaks. you don't move away.

he notices the way the waiter lingers, the way you dismiss it with a polite, distant smile.

you notice the way his expression shifts at that, just slightly. neither of you acknowledge it.

"you're kind of a nightmare," you tease.

satoru grins, unbothered. "funny. some people call me a dream."

you laugh and roll your eyes at him. he takes his time with his next sip, letting the tension settle. you're watching him watch you.

it would be easy to let you play this game, to see how long you can act like you're not as impatient as he is. but he leans in, voice quiet, just for you.

"you gonna make me wait?" low, taunting.

you could, but you don't. instead, you lean in too, meeting him halfway. you set your glass down carefully. he mirrors you.

someone—a bartender, another guest—tries to pull you into conversation, but you don't reply.

you lean into him, your voice calm but sure.

"let's go."

+++

streetlights skim over sleek black paint as the car pulls up, satoru swinging the door open. you barely take a step before his hand finds the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to guide you.

he grins lazily. "last chance."

you roll your eyes as you step in. "so dramatic."

he closes the door after you and circles the car, the driver pulling off.

the backseat feels too small.

you cross your legs. his knee brushes against yours, and he doesn't move away. his hand rests on his thigh, relaxed, too close to yours. deliberate.

you pretend not to notice, but he knows better.

the silence is louder than words. the city blurs past the tinted windows, neon bleeding into the dark. the hum of the engine, the distant murmur of traffic, the faint pulse of something unsaid.

satoru exhales slowly, gliding his tongue over his teeth, thinking. he pushes a button, the partition rising.

you're both quiet, but it's a silent signal: stop pretending.

the second it clicks into place, he moves. or maybe you do. it doesn't matter. he's closer now, facing you, and you're already leaning in.

a beat. a sharp inhale.

his fingers skim your thigh, higher this time.

"i was trying to be good," you say quietly.

his voice drops, tight with restraint, and your breath catches. "don't."

the second the word leaves his lips, you're on him. a hand finds the back of his neck, drawing him in.

the first kiss is slow, but not reluctant. he drags it out because he can. he tilts his head, deepening it. he hums against your lips when you press closer, pleased.

his fingers tease higher. yours twist into his hair, nails scraping just enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

the car rolls to a stop.

neither of you move. not right away.

satoru's grip tightens, like he's considering pulling you onto his lap. like he could keep you here a little longer, let the city blur beyond the tinted glass while he takes his time.

instead, he drags his lips down your jaw, then lower. he breathes you in before murmuring, "upstairs."

+++

the door clicks shut, sealing you in. no music, no distant hum of the city, just quiet, dense and charged.

neither of you break the silence.

satoru steps in first. the air seems to crackle around him here the same way it does everywhere else.

you hold his stare, challenging. he waits.

a test. a game.

then, finally, you reach for him. his grin is lazy, knowing. like he was waiting for you to break first.

this kiss is purposeful. his lips brush yours—once, then again. a silent question, just the slow press of his mouth, the barely-there slide of his hands down your waist.

your fingers slip under his shirt, nails grazing skin, just enough to pull a slow, amused breath from him.

his hands find your hips, insistent, pulling you in until there's no space left. the shift makes you gasp into his mouth, and he drinks it in, looking smug, like he expected it.

like he's been waiting for this all week.

his grip tenses, like he's about to pull you closer—but then he's gone. his heat vanishes, his lips just a ghost of pressure before they disappear completely.

he barely moves when you chase him a bit, just tilts his chin, smiling. like he knew you wouldn't let him go. like he was counting on it.

you inhale, frustration sparking low in your chest, and you move before you think. your hands find his shirt, tugging him back in—but before you can, his fingers close around your wrists, catching you with ease.

his grin is knowing, his grip firm but teasing. he tilts his head, amusement spreading across his face.

"easy, princess," he murmurs, voice low, eyes flicking to your lips. "what's the rush?"

you arch a brow, fingers flexing in his grasp. "you did haul me out of the car."

his grin widens. "not like you put up a fight."

you push.

you press into him, backing him towards the wall. he lets you. lets you kiss him deeper, hands still wrapped around your wrists but relaxing, giving you room to move.

for a second, you think you've won.

then the world tilts and your back meets the wall with a gentle thud, your head tipping back slightly as he crowds you.

he smiles at you, eyes sparkling, enjoying himself too much. his hands settle at your waist, keeping you where he wants you.

you should be annoyed. instead, you match him and smirk right back.

you like the way he handles you.

+++

his touch is maddening.

his fingertips skate over your ribs, your stomach, but never where you need them. it's intentional and exploratory, like he has all the time in the world.

and he does. his apartment is a sanctuary from the mess of the last week. no prying eyes or a disgruntled kento to interrupt here.

you shift, trying to lead him downward, but he only chuckles, barely making a sound.

"you can be patient for me, can't you?" his voice dips lower, "or are you already too far gone?"

he's mocking you, and reflex kicks in—your thighs squeeze together, and you feel the heat creep up your neck when he notices.

his fingers ghost up your inner thighs, teasing warmth into your skin before retreating. every near-touch is calculated, just enough to remind you of how easily he could give you what you want.

he watches as impatience builds in your expression, as your breath stutters when his hands graze your waist again.

your nails press into his shoulders, a silent dare. before he can smirk, before he can gloat, you roll your hips against him, slow, deliberate. the response is immediate.

his breath falters, a groan through gritted teeth. his jaw tightens like he wasn't expecting you to test him. for a split second, he stills entirely.

you smile at him. message received.

"if you wanna ruin me, do it right, satoru." a taunt disguised as a whisper, just enough to chip at his restraint.

his hold turns bruising, like he wants to leave something behind. the teasing tone vanishes, his smirk dissolving into something darker. your breath catches—not in surprise, but excitement as something kindles in your stomach.

because suddenly, it's not a game anymore.

the realization barely registers before he has you pinned, wrists above your head, mouth at your ear.

"hope you know what you're asking for," he murmurs, hips flush against yours. his voice is different now—rough, heat twisting through every syllable. you shudder at the sound, your body responding. he makes good on his words immediately.

his hands find the backs of your thighs—then, suddenly, you're weightless, gasping, clutching at his shoulders. your legs draw around his hips, heat pooling fast.

a startled breath leaves you, but he's already moving, carrying you across the room like you weigh nothing at all.

+++

he drops you onto his bed, grinning at the glare you send him when you bounce.

you don't even get the chance to scold—his hands are already on you, pulling your panties down.

his teeth graze your inner thigh before he bites down, sharp enough to make you whine, hips squirming. he exhales with a smile. "thought so." his tongue follows—slow, indulgent, a promise to ruin you.

you've barely found your breath when he shifts, broad hands pressing into your thighs, spreading you open. his gaze lifts, dark and teasing.

"comfortable?" he asks, lips skimming the inside of your knee.

you roll your eyes, about to retort—but your fingers curl into the sheets instead when his mouth finds your core, hot and devastating.

your hips shift, back arching, and he hums against you, content.

you move the moment he adjusts—quick, decisive, hands pushing into his shoulders. he lets you shift the balance, rolling onto his back, breath catching when he opens his eyes to find you above him.

your fingers work fast, tugging at his belt, yanking it free with a sharp pull. you work on the button, the zipper, pulling the fabric down just enough to free him.

he was so fucking cocky a second ago. now, he's not even breathing right, body taut under your hands. so you stroke once, then twice, then take him into your mouth.

no warning, no reluctance.

his grip tightens on your thigh, breath punching out like you knocked it loose. his head tilts back, jaw tensing, a soft "fuck—just like that, baby" escaping him.

you hum around him, pleased, tongue teasing, and he swears again under his breath. his hands fist into the sheets, trying to ground himself.

but satoru doesn't like being outmatched.

his fingers skate up your thigh, squeezing. and then his mouth is on you, tongue dragging through your folds, slow and deep.

you gasp against him, body tensing, and he grins.

"that's better," he mutters against you, lips brushing sensitive skin before his tongue circles once, twice.

the sound you make is muffled around him, and he groans in response, the vibration rolling through you both.

you try to keep a rhythm, fingers curling at the base as you sink down, but every time his tongue moves just right, every time he sucks at your clit, you falter.

he notices, and he loves it.

his hands tighten on your hips, keeping you still as he buries his face deeper, determined, fucking into you with his tongue, sending you to the edge without mercy.

you try to keep going, try to keep your lips wrapped around him, but every nerve in your body is on fire, pressure winding as you moan around him.

he grins against you. "that's it, princess. lemme hear it."

his fingers dig into your skin, tightening as he licks into you with purpose, drawing desperate sounds from your throat.

it's too much. you pull your mouth off of him, panting, lips slick and hips twitching against his face as the bliss hits all at once, unraveling you from the inside out.

"satoru, fuck," you gasp, the words nearly unintelligible through your moans. you can't do anything but let it consume you, your body seizing before the release finally drives through you.

you gasp, sharp and unsteady, his name tumbling past your lips again, voice cracking into a whine.

satoru doesn't stop until you're shaking, your legs weak, pleasure rolling over you in dizzying, tormenting waves.

only when your thighs twitch, too sensitive, does he finally pull away. his face is wet, and he's breathless. he presses one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before looking up at you, eyes dark and lazy.

"you're fucking perfect," he murmurs, voice hoarse, before flipping you onto your stomach, pressing you into the mattress.

+++

you're still coming down when he lifts your hips, tucking a pillow underneath them.

his breath is warm against your shoulder, steady and grounding. his lips trail down your spine, flirting, savoring the way you squirm. a hand settles on your hip possessively, making sure you don't slip away.

his other hand trails lower, sliding between your legs, fingers pressing in—gradually, unhurried, teasing the mess he left behind.

"fuck, baby—you're dripping for me." his voice is all rough edges and satisfaction, murmured against your ear. you shiver. his fingers slide through your folds, spreading your slick, teasing the spot he knows will make you gasp.

"been thinking about this all week," he mumbles, kissing the curve of your neck. his fingers dip lower, pushing inside, slow and deep. "bet you have, too."

you whimper, and he smirks against your skin.

"should've had you like this that night. should've fucked you right up against that wall."

his fingers move at an unbearable pace, curling, pressing into the spot that makes your knees weak. your hips jerk, but he holds you still.

"needy, huh?" his breath is burning against your ear, teasing, smug. "tell me how bad you want it, baby."

your fingers clutch the sheets, patience fraying. you should fight him— push back, make him work for it—but you're too far gone for games.

"satoru—"

his fingers stall. "mm, not good enough."

"want you," you gasp, growing desperate. "need you inside me."

he groans like you just hit him where it hurts. he pulls his hand away, leaving you empty for barely a second before the thick of him replaces them.

he slips the tip through your folds, slick and teasing, but doesn't push in. "this what you wanted?" he asks, rougher now.

"yes."

"say it again."

your breath stutters, but you give him what he wants. "yes. please," you gasp.

his hands flex against your hips, keeping you still as he pushes forward, stretching you open with an unrelenting drag that knocks the air from your lungs. it's almost too much—almost—but you want all of it. you take all of him.

he moves in slowly, and a shaky gasp escapes as he bottoms out, deep inside you, holding himself there, letting you feel it.

his breath is ragged now, his exhale hot against your skin. "fuck."

his hands slide up your sides, guiding you, holding you where he needs you.

"you feel so fucking good," he breathes, voice dipping into something ruined.

his hips roll, deep and slow, like he wants to feel everything. like he wants to make this last.

you think for a second that you won't survive at this pace.

satoru brings his body lower, pressing his chest flush against your back, all heat and tension, breath ghosting over your shoulder as he sinks in.

his arms slip under yours, palms spreading over your shoulders, drawing you into him. not just pulling you back, but owning the space between you.

hi thrusts are indulgent, stretching, coating himself in you. his breath is uneven, satisfaction humming in your ear.

you push your hips back into him, matching his rhythm.

satoru exhales a sharp breath, fingers digging in. "you trying to make me lose it?"

you don't answer, just push back harder on instinct.

his response is immediate—a sharp, precise thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, ripping a moan from your throat before you can swallow it down.

"thought so," he murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder.

his pace turns deep and steady—controlled, measured. he brings his face close to yours, wanting to watch you react, to feel you tighten around him with every movement.

but you're impatient. you shift, pressing up onto your elbows, angling your hips just enough to take him deeper.

his pace stutters. he swears under his breath, voice raw, and one arm locks around your waist. he holds you in place as he fucks into you now, hard enough to leave you trembling, helpless against the bed.

his name leaves your lips, breathless and desperate.

"fuck—it's so good," he groans, half-choked, messy. his face buries into your neck, hands gripping like he's holding on for dear life. "let me hear you, baby."

you can barely think, barely breathe. his hand slides between your legs, fingers finding that spot, pressing slow, teasing circles.

"satoru—"

he chuckles, low and smug, but there's an edge to it now, a tension in the way his hips stutter, his movements losing their precision.

and then you tighten around him, body seizing, pleasure cresting all at once—

"fuck," he bites out, breathless, grip tightening like he's trying to hold on.

and then—he pulls out.

a sharp inhale, the loss making you gasp, but before you can even form a thought—

he flips you over.

"not done with you yet," he mutters, voice rough, gaze dark as he hovers over you.

+++

and just like that, everything shifts.

his hands find you the second he pulls out—a sharp, dizzying shift as he flips you over, settling beneath you. his hands slide up your ribs, brush over your breasts, then slide back down.

his fingers splay wide on your hips, steadying you, but it's his gaze that pins you in place. "wanna see you like this," he murmurs, voice low, still rough from before.

your lips part, but the way he looks at you makes it hard to tease. instead, your nails drag down his chest, unhurried, feeling his abs tense beneath your touch.

"yeah?" you breathe.

his fingers flex, tightening just slightly. "yeah, baby. show me how bad you want it."

you wrap your fingers around him, stroking once, slow and teasing, just to watch him squirm.

his jaw clenches, but he doesn't push. he lets you take your time, lets you set the pace, struggling to hold back.

you don't make him wait long.

you line him up and sink down, savoring the stretch—the way he exhales, sharp and shaky, fingers digging in.

"fuck," he breathes, watching you, eyes dark, half-lidded, all heat.

one of your hands finds his shoulders, nails scraping lightly as you start to move. the other moves down to where you're connected, feeling just how far he spreads you open.

at first, it's slow—like you're figuring each other out all over again. a careful roll of your hips, tension simmering, teasing at something deeper.

but it doesn't last.

his grip firms, guiding you down, matching your rhythm. he thrusts up to meet you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs.

"you feel me, princess?" he asks, pulling you down harder, deeper.

you answer him with a desperate little whimper that makes him melt.

both of your movements are messy, desperate—like you both know exactly where this is going and you need to get there.

your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping, tugging just slightly, and he hisses, eyes squeezing shut for a second.

his hands slide up your spine, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing to yours, breathing hard.

"you feel so fucking good," he murmurs, almost a whine. "so wet for me, so fucking perfect."

you can't even speak. your thoughts blur, pleasure winding tight, breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

he shifts beneath you, angling deeper, hitting exactly where you need him. the sudden jolt of pleasure makes your whole body tighten, makes you let out a sound you didn't mean to make—

a loud, broken moan, breathy, helpless.

his head snaps up, eyes wild, something cracking behind them—like he just lost his last thread of control.

"oh," his breath shudders, grip tightening. "oh."

and then he's gone.

he snaps his hips into yours, his hands gripping, guiding, setting a pace that's relentless, that has you gasping, nails biting into his shoulders.

your vision goes hazy, body tightening, winding up unbearably fast. you try to tell him you're close, but all that comes out is a shaky, broken "satoru—"

"oh, fuck—there it is," he breathes, voice dropping, eyes dark and triumphant. "knew you'd sound so fucking sweet falling apart for me."

his hand finds your clit, pressing just right—teeth gritting as he holds on, watching you break first.

and you shatter.

it slams into you, sharp and consuming, a shockwave rolling through your body. your breath stutters, a broken gasp stumbling free as you tighten around him, locking him in.

he feels it—the way you pulse around him, the way you tremble, how your moans dissolve into something helpless. it undoes him. his arm slides your waist, his other hand finding the back of your neck, and he pulls you closer like he needs you.

he curses as you tremble against him, holding you close, burying himself deep in you as he falls apart.

your name leaves his lips like a prayer, breathless, reverent. he groans against your skin as he finally spills into you. pleasure crashes through him, and for a moment, all he can do is feel **the heat of you, the way you throb around him, the way your body takes him like you were made for this.

for a second, you both stay still; the only sound between you is the sharp, uneven puff of breath.

your hands shake against his chest. his fingers are still locked around your waist.

he exhales a wrecked laugh, warm and lazy against your temple.

"so fucking worth the wait," he murmurs, voice low, sated. he kisses all over your face, palm smoothing down your spine. "knew you'd be perfect for me."

+++

the morning light spills through the curtains, golden and soft, warming tangled sheets and bare skin. everything is still. quiet, but not empty. satoru is warm against you, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. at some point in the night, your leg found its way between his, one of his arms draped lazily over your waist.

you shift, stretching slightly, and his fingers flex at your hip, like some part of him refuses to let you go.

he murmurs something unintelligible, voice low and drowsy. then, with a slow, easy smile against your skin, "stay."

you huff a quiet laugh. "clingy."

"mmm," he hums, voice is thick with sleep. "you're warm."

he still hasn't opened his eyes. he just shifts a little, nestling deeper into you. his fingers pressing idly into your hip, like he's memorizing the shape of you beneath them.

you stay like that for a while.

you steal a button-up from his closet when you finally get up, slipping it over your shoulders before following him into the bathroom. he doesn't comment, just flicks his gaze over you, lips twitching, before rummaging through a drawer. a moment later, he presses a spare toothbrush into your palm.

"definitely took you for the clingy type."

he grins, stretching lazily against the counter. "not my fault you're so soft."

you brush your teeth side by side, bleary-eyed in the mirror. he stands just a little too close, bumping into your arm like he can't help himself.

and when you head back to bed, he follows, catching your wrist just before you climb in, guiding you back under the covers with ease.

"wait." his lips brush your shoulder. "just stay there."

"i am staying," you point out, amused.

"good," he hums, pressing one last kiss to your head before disappearing into the kitchen.

satoru returns minutes later, two mugs in hand. he sets yours on the nightstand before wordlessly disappearing back to the kitchen.

you wait until you smell breakfast, then you get up and follow the scent out to his kitchen island.

he doesn't ask if you're hungry. he just plates your food and sets it in front of you without a second thought.

you steal sips from his juice between bites, and he lets you, just watching, amused, eyes flicking toward you over the rim of his glass.

soft touches happen naturally, thoughtlessly.

his palm finds the small of your back when he moves past you, warm and steady.

your fingers brush when you both reach for the same thing.

his knuckles graze your thigh when he leans back against the counter.

none of it feels unfamiliar.

you stay longer than you expected to. he doesn't call you out on it.

the goodbye is unserious, drawn out in a way that makes it obvious neither of you is in a rush.

"try not to miss me too much," you tease, pulling on your shoes with a grin.

he smiles, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "oh, i will."

his tone is playful, but something about the way he says them makes you hesitate, just for a second.

and as you step out, just before it closes behind you, he calls after you.

"i'll be thinking about you, y'know."

tags (ongoing): @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance @satoruxsc

[nayeoniiz]

WEBCAM PERV! (2)

pairings ❥ heeseung x fem!reader

genre ❥ smut

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

synopsis ❥ you meet heeseung on omegle and quickly hit it off until you accidentally disconnect. feeling at a loss from not being able to find him again, you give up and live life as if it never happened. unbeknownst to you, however, he turns out to be a hacker who hacked into your camera, resorting to watching your secretly from behind the screen… until he didn’t.

warnings ❥ stalking, voyeurism, fingering, oral (both receiving), raw sex (wrap it up!), missionary (reader is flexible), big dick heeseung, slight degradation, ass eating, backshots, facial (omg no cream pie?!?!)

word count ❥ 11.7k

Webcam Perv! (1)

author’s note: tbh guys i ended up rewriting a lot of stuff because i wasn’t satisfied with my work & also ended up also i had writers block so sorry for that, i just didn’t like how it turned out at the time. not proofread so beware.

taglist: taglist: @rayofsunshineeee @strayy-kidz @d-dilemma @kkamismom12 @cinnawonbabe @innocygnet @planetmarlowe @jakeswifez @river-demon-slayer @yoonglestangies @yangjungwonnie @norihoyeon @ch4c0nnenh4 @heephile777 @azzy02 @s0nnyang3ls @friedtalong @m3wkledreamy @mheretoreadff @vegahrid @ttulixia @heesexual74 @immelissaaa @heeseungssidechick @toffeehee @lavxndxrsworld @miuwonis @freaky-enhamadswriter @yohanabanana @jaeyunsbimbo @siimplestar @slut4hee @chobitos @isagistar @starry-eyed-bimbo @511rkive @skzenhalove @diorfmu @liafterhours @millis-diary @ki2rins @asscoups17 @ravenslocked

“i miss fine shit…” y/n sighed dramatically, her chin resting in her hand as she stared off into the distance. her thoughts seemed to be lost in a world far removed from the present lately. despite the fact that it’d been almost two weeks since the scandalous video call with heeseung, her mind remained fixated on him.

natty, on the other hand, had heard more than enough. she had sat through all of y/n’s endless rambling about it for these past couple of days, initially nodding along while the girl swooned, but her patience was running thin now. it wasn't uncommon for y/n to develop crushes, but this one? in natty’s eyes, it was foolish, exaggerated, and unreasonably intense. she spoke so highly of heeseung in a way that felt odd given the scenario in which they met. she couldn’t let y/n continue living in a fantasy.

“i’m sorry girl, but you don’t even know him for real,” natty words were low, her voice flat as she glanced up only briefly from their shared computer screen, where they were working on a class project. her response evoked a frown from the girl.

“maybe not,” y/n agreed, but her eyes remained distant as she was still lost in her daydreams of the boy. “but i do know that we at least live in the same country. you never know, i could bump into him,” she added with a quiet conviction, unwilling to acknowledge the more obvious reality of the situation which was leaning toward him being nothing more than a chance meeting. compared to natty, who’s had a long list of lovers, y/n didn’t seem to have luck when it came to men. she wasn’t exactly looking for that kind of attention anymore because of that fact. what she did with heeseung was completely out of character, he made her feel alive that night. she wanted to keep chasing that feeling. she had to.

“that doesn’t mean you know where he lives,” natty countered, her voice laced with softness in her tone as if she were trying her best to let the girl down gently. “he could be hours away, hidden somewhere in the middle of nowhere.”

y/n shook her head slowly, her belief unshaken. she was certain there had to be a way. “then i’ll just manifest running into him. this time, in person.”

her word make natty cringe as she let out a long, exasperated sigh. “you’re crazy,” she muttered, a hint of disbelief in her voice. she knew her friend was stubborn, but never to such an extent over a boy she only knew for a couple of hours.

“oh, girl, if only you could have seen what i saw in him,” y/n sighed, a smile tugging at her lips. images of heeseung flashed through her mind. the way he spoke so smoothly, the way he said her name, his smile, his smirks, the way he was so attentive to everything she said. she craved it all. with another content sigh, she spoke again. “you’ll understand when you see him.”

natty didn’t respond this time, realizing that y/n was too far gone to be reasoned with. this fated little fantasy had already settled into her mind, and it was clear there was no pulling her away from it now.

heeseung, on the contrary, was doing just fine. in fact, he had already grown accustomed to the unrestricted access he had to y/n’s devices, marveling at everything she did. from the way y/n spent countless hours searching omegle for him, and the way he found great pleasure in reading the messages between her and her best friend natty talking about how he was the one that got away, and of course that camera access had completely shifted his jerk off sessions each night as he finally had a face to openly fantasize about.

besides his endeavors, heeseung’s focus had shifted to something far more calculated—her routine. with the help of his hacking system, he managed to piece together most of the tiny fragments in her daily life: the café she frequented, the public library she studied in, the late-night convenience store she occasionally visited every now and then. but none of these places provided him with what he was looking for. there was never a specific time she went to any of them. he needed something more reliable, something he knew would guarantee their reunion.

while stalking wasn’t new territory for him as he had dabbled with brief obsessions in the past for the thrill of it, never taking them too seriously. this was different. this was y/n. for the first time, he was prepared to go further than everything he had before, to put in the effort, and asking for advice even if it meant bending the truth along the way.

that evening, heeseung entered the kitchen, where sunghoon sat hunched over his laptop absorbed in a research paper. the rhythmic sound of the keyboard came to a brief halt as heeseung pulled out the chair opposite sunghoon, the legs scraping gently against the floor.

“yo, can i ask you something?” heeseung began, leaning forward, resting his chin in his hand, his expression serious. his fingers lightly tapped against the table as he waited for his roommate’s acknowledgment. and sunghoon didn’t look up immediately, but the edge in heeseung’s tone piqued his interest.

“what’s up?”

heeseung hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words. he realized he should have thought it out before jumping straight in. “so, i went to this coffee shop a few days ago, right?” he started, his voice softening as he imagined the scene he was about to start painting. sunghoon nodded. “and i swear, i saw the most beautiful girl i’ve ever laid eyes on.” his gaze turned unfocused as he imagined her face, the nervous mannerisms she had shown, and the way her lips parted when caught off guard. “i just can’t stop thinking about her.”

sunghoon laughed, finally glancing up at him. “damn. she got you that down bad?”

“worse,” heeseung sighed, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “i’m convinced she’s my soulmate, man. but here’s the thing… i’ve only seen her once. she hasn’t shown up since, and i have no idea how to find her again.” technically, none of this was a lie, though he conveniently omitted certain details.

sunghoon leaned back in his chair, processing this. “why don’t you just go there every day? eventually, she’ll show up again.”

heeseung frowned. “dude, that place is expensive. i can’t keep buying overpriced coffee for no reason.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes. “who said you had to buy anything? just sit there, pretend to study, or work on something. they’re not gonna kick you out for existing.”

heeseung clicked his tongue, unconvinced. the idea of sitting in a café for days, hoping for a chance encounter, felt unreliable. she was unpredictable—her schedule too scattered, her habits too inconsistent. there was no definite timeframe it’d take to catch her. he was already going crazy these last few days, his thoughts, his actions, his dreams all consisted of her. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out.

“might take some time,” sunghoon added, stretching his arms overhead. “but if she’s a regular, she’s bound to show up eventually.”

heeseung hummed, a sense of doubt clouding his thoughts. “yeah… i doubt that’ll work.”

sunghoon shrugged, uninterested in offering more advice. “that’s all i got. take it or leave it.” his suggestion was weak, but perhaps it didn’t need to be perfect. he could make it work, he just needed to ensure their paths crossed by his own doing.

heeseung sighed, pushing himself up from the chair. his mind was already spinning with plans and possibilities, each more elaborate than the last. that’s when the bell rang in his head and he decided to install a live tracker on y/n’s phone.

before this, his access had been limited. he could only observe the traces of her movements when she shared her location with others or after purchases were made when the receipts would land in her email. but now, with the tracker in place, everything would change. he would have real-time access, no more waiting, no more gaps in his knowledge. it almost made him chastise himself for not having done it sooner, but in a way, this felt better.

enough time had passed to make their meeting seem more like fate than manipulation. what harm was there anyway? y/n had been looking for him too. just the thought alone sent a rush of excitement through him. she wanted to see him just as badly as he wanted to see her. even if she didn’t know it yet, their mutual longing was proof that something far deeper than chance was there. they both craved each other’s connection.

once the program was fully operational, his heart was almost pouncing outside of his chest as her location flickered onto the screen. heeseung’s eyes narrowed as he observed the information. she was at a university. not just any university—sunghoon’s university. his pulse quickened, but he forced himself to remain calm. there wasn’t much he could do with this information yet, so he could only store it away for later. instead, he switched to her messages, scanning her most recent conversation.

y/n: coffee, then my place?

natty batty: ok lemme finish this last slide first, im almost done

y/n: yes ma’am 🫡😁

y/n: coffee coffee coffee

natty: girl.

y/n: sorry

heeseung smirked, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. bingo. he quickly switched to her camera feed. he watched as she picked up her phone and slipped it into her pocket after a few minutes. he couldn’t see her face, buy he didn’t need to. he knew exactly what she looked like in this moment: eager, giddy, and blissfully unaware of how much better he was about to make her night. his mind raced. the university was only 15 minutes away from the coffee shop while his apartment was 25. he had to move and he needed to move now.

he looked down at his outfit realizing he was nowhere near ready to be seen by her yet. cursing under his breath, he shoved himself away from his desk and rushed into the kitchen where sunghoon was still sitting at the table, this time his headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. heeseung wasted no time.

“bro, i need you to drive me somewhere,” heeseung said, his tone urgent as he pulled one of the earbuds to the side so his friend would hear his plea.

sunghoon blinked up at him, confusion evident on his face. “why so sudden?”

“no time to explain,” heeseung said with a barely suppressed a grin. “i just have a feeling i’m gonna get lucky tonight.”

sunghoon squinted, still not understanding the sudden change in plans. but after a moment, he shrugged. “whatever, man. get your shit and grab my keys.”

heeseung darted to his room, quickly yanking on a gray sweater and black sweatpants. he grabbed a tub of mousse and raked it through his hair, styling it as quickly as possible. usually, he would take his time, making sure every strand was perfect, but tonight, he didn’t have the luxury.

that’s why having sunghoon drive was ideal; it gave him those extra minutes to prepare. as soon as the two of them jumped into the car, sunghoon pulled out of the driveway while heeseung sat in the passenger seat, his hands moving frantically in his hair as he tried to perfect his appearance. he didn’t even bother with a seatbelt. his mind was too focused on the task ahead.

when they arrived at the haven brew, heeseung was the first to step out of the car. he scanned the entrance, but there was no sign of her yet. “go find a table,” he ordered sunghoon, barely glancing at him. “make it look natural.”

sunghoon rolled his eyes but complied, making his way toward an empty table while pulling out his laptop and to make their presence more convincing, he ordered a couple of pastries and set them beside his notes.

meanwhile, heeseung made a beeline for the bathroom. he pulled out his phone and opened the tracker. y/n’s location was getting closer, only two turns away. his fingers trembled as he watched her dot inch toward the café. she was coming. the thought sent a shiver through him, the energy rushing beneath his skin. the idea of seeing her in person, after everything, was overwhelming. his body felt electric with anticipation, but he had to stay calm.

he inhaled deeply, shook out his hands, then left the bathroom, moving toward the table where sunghoon sat. “what do you want to drink?” he asked, keeping his voice light, forcing himself to sound normal despite the excitement rushing through his body.

sunghoon didn’t even glance up, too focused on his work. “uh… caramel macchiato.”

heeseung nodded and stepped into line. the place was busier now, the line stretching long, winding through the café. good. it gave him more time. every time the doorbell jingled, his heart lurched. was it her? was she here? where would she sit? what if she sat near him? would their drinks be ready at the same time? what if she hear his name when they call it? would she look at him and just knowㅡ?

“hello, sir. what can i get for you today?”

heeseung snapped back to reality, his gaze shifting to the barista who he now stood in front of. she was smiling politely, her presence a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts in his head. he forced himself to focus, quickly rattling off his order, swiping his card, and returning to the table.

he pulled his phone out one last time, he checked the tracker. y/n had arrived. she was inside, but he couldn’t see her—not yet. the line was still too long and the building was overcrowded. his fingers curled around the edge of the table, his pulse hammering in his ears. the game had finally begun and heeseung was more than ready to play.

near the middle of the line, y/n and natty stood talking about heeseung, to no one’s surprise. the café was lively, the hum of conversation blending with the faint whir of espresso machines, yet y/n could only focus on the topic that had been consuming her thoughts for days.

“i really feel like i’ll actually see him soon,” y/n cooed, rocking on her heels, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag in excitement.

“and why’s that?” natty gave her a tired and mostly unreadable look, already growing numb to her rants. y/n tapped the side of her head with a knowing smile, her expression smug as if she were about to drop some great wisdom.

“law of assumption. look it up.”

natty sighed deeply, rubbing her temple in an attempt to ward off the headache that was beginning to make its way. she had heard enough about this so-called manifestation to last her a lifetime. it was like y/n fixated on every topic she thought of as of late. “if you want a boyfriend so bad, why not go for jake?” she asked, her tone flat, as if simply humoring y/n at this point.

y/n’s nose scrunched in immediate distaste. “jake? as in the one in our musical theory class?” her voice carried a mix of disbelief and mild horror, as if the mere suggestion was absurd. he was one of the students they both agreed was insufferable. he was a know-it all, ass kissing teacher’s pet. and just straight up rude as hell, always looking down on anyone who he felt wasn’t on his level of intelligenceㅡ and both girls had caught their own respective strays from him. natty nodded, humming in confirmation, but y/n only scoffed.

“hell no! he’s a total bore and an asshole.”

natty shrugged, adjusting the strap of her purse as she considered the argument. despite the way he behaved as a person, it was easy to forget on the rare occasion when he‘d look you in the eye. “a hot one, though.”

y/n wasn’t swayed. her expression remained unimpressed as she pursed her lips, leaning in slightly. she lowered her voice as if confessing a secret. “well, my fine shit had the looks and the personality.” her words softened at the end as her mind drifted back to heeseung’s effortless charm, the teasing tilt in his voice, the confidence he carried himself with when he spoke to her.

natty rolled her eyes. “well, jake has something heeseung doesn’t.”

y/n turned to her, brow raised in challenge. “and that is?” there was nothing he could offer that heeseung didn’t. the only thing saving jake from weirdo status was his face, it was his best and only positive attribute.

natty barely hesitated before deadpanning, “hm,i don’t know.. maybe the fact that he’s accessible and this heeseung guy isn’t?”

y/n let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes before shifting her gaze across the café. she was more than ready to tune natty out, but just as she was about to dismiss the conversation entirely, her breath caught in her chest, and it tightened. she even felt as if her heart nearly stopped. across the room, standing near the merchandised cups, was a familiar face toting a gray sweater.

“oh my god,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

natty groaned. “no. don’t ‘oh my god’ me,” she warned, already sensing where this was going. “i’ve been listening to you talk about this man nonstop for days. you need to be realistic—”

y/n grabbed natty’s shoulders and spun her around so fast that natty nearly stumbled. “that’s him! that’s fucking him!” her fingers dug into natty’s arms, grip tightening as excitement coursed through her, adding a jump in her step.

natty frowned, still skeptical. “girl, where?”

y/n’s voice was ecstatic, but she tried to contain it. “i can’t point, but he’s near the cups. purple hair, gray sweater…. oh my god, bitch. manifestation is real.” her entire body buzzed, it felt unreal. her mind couldn’t fully process that this moment was actually happening.

she had spent days thinking about this. dreaming about this. and now, here he was—standing just a few feet away.

natty, however, wasn’t as convinced. her arms were still locked in y/n’s grip, but her expression remained doubtful. “are you sure?” she squinted, trying to get a better look. the odds of this were ridiculous, impossible even. y/n had met some random guy online, obsessed over him for days, and now, he just happened to be in the same café? for a brief second, natty wondered if she should be worried. she was concerned the girl’s obsession had rendered her borderline delusional. y/n was already lost in her own world, eyes locked onto heeseung, thoughts swarming im her head.

“i will fucking go up to him right now, bro. swear,” y/n let go of her death grip on natty’s arms and attempted to push past her, but natty grabbed her wrist before she could follow through on the impulsive declaration. “okay, chill. let’s order first?”

as they stepped forward in line, y/n could barely focus. her hands felt clammy, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. the café around her blurred into the background, her senses narrowing in on one thing, and one thing only. a barista‘a voice called outㅡ “heeseung!” and y/n’s stomach flipped. her head snapped toward the employee so quickly she nearly gave herself whiplash. she glanced near his area and realized he was coming this way. now, it was her turn to order, but her mind was so blank. she needed more time.

“i need a second to think,” she said hastily, voice unsteady. natty shot her a look, but let it slide. she believed it now after hearing his name. and she couldn’t fathom how everything truly seemed to work in her friend’s favor, but she was somewhat happy for her nonetheless. though, she still wasn’t sure if her man of choice was the best.

heeseung was seemingly oblivious. he grabbed his cup first, then sunghoon’s, fingers wrapping around the sleeve as he turned to leave, doing everything in his power not to scan the line for his muse’s face. but y/n’s pulse skyrocketed upon he was leaving. he was finally right there in front of her, and he was leaving. before she could second-guess herself, her hand shot out, fingers curling around the sleeve of his sweater.

heeseung froze. his body tensed at the sudden touch, breath hitching as he slowly glanced down to where her hand clutched the soft fabric. the warmth of her fingers seeped through the material, faint but noticeable.

and for a brief moment, everything around him ceased to exist. the café, the noise, the people—it all faded, leaving only this. his gaze lifted, meeting hers. and in that instant, it all clicked like a puzzle piece falling into place.

y/n swallowed, her grip loosening as her fingers dragged slightly against the fabric before letting go. “hi, i’m so sorry, but i know you.” her voice was quiet, hesitant, yet certain all at once.

the sweater was soft. softer than she expected. and suddenly, she wanted to know more. she wondered if his skin was softer, how his hands would feel in between her fingers, how his lips would feel against hers, everything. she wanted to know everything about him now.

heeseung swallowed hard, forcing himself to find words to say. he had an array of scenarios that their first physical encounter would go and yet nothing could have prepared him for this. he never considered that she could approach him first. everything he knew about confidence, his charm, his certainty, all of it left him. “y/n?”

oh. his voice.

it was even better in person, smooth and warm, like a melody lingering in the air long after the last note had been played. it wrapped around her, wrapped her in something almost intoxicating. made her feel safe. made her feel wanted.

her breath caught. “yes. heeseung. hi.”

his lips parted slightly before curling into a slow, almost disbelieving smile.

“hi.”

they just stood there, staring at each other, taking in every detail, every feature. it felt like time had stopped. y/n’s eyes traced the shape of his face, the sharp cut of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the slight crease between his brows as he studied her just as intently. it was strange meeting someone she had only ever seen through a screen. yet, in this moment, nothing about it felt unnatural, like they had always known each other.

“do you guys mind? other people need to order,” a customer behind them huffed, shattering the moment.

heeseung blinked and turned to the man behind y/n. both of them muttered apologies, though neither of them had fully detached from the high of finally seeing each other in person. heeseung hesitated for only a second before asking, “would you… maybe want to sit with me?”

y/n’s first instinct was to glance at natty as they had already made plans. they were supposed to head straight home after getting coffee and study at her place, but y/n felt like studying could wait. in fact, everything else could wait. she exhaled, shaking her head as a slow smile spread across her lips. “we were gonna go home and study, but fuck that. this is a celebration.”

heeseung chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “you’re right.”

as they walked over to the table, sunghoon barely acknowledged them at first, reaching for his drink absentmindedly. then, he did a double take, eyes flicking between heeseung and y/n, taking in their body language, the energy between them. heeseung had talked about her before, mentioned her like she was just another girl he had met online. but now, seeing them together, sunghoon could tell it was different. heeseung met his gaze, giving a small nod. this is her.

introductions were given, natty and sunghoon exchanging brief conversations. but it barely mattered. because y/n and heeseung? they were locked in. their conversation flowed without pause or much of any effort. it was like they had already skipped past the awkward phase of getting to know each other and landed in a space that felt comfortable. natural.

sunghoon stirred his drink, watching them. curiousity piqued, and he wondered why this was so easy for them. “so… how exactly did you two meet?” he asked, his tone casual but inquisitive.

heeseung and y/n exchanged a glance, amusement flickering between them. y/n was the first to answer. “omegle,” she said, like it was her greatest achievement: meeting him by chance. she was almost sure it was, too. she’d never felt this accomplished.

natty groaned, already dreading hearing the story again. sunghoon, however, only frowned. “omegle?” he repeated in an effort to make sure he heard correctly.

heeseung leaned back in his chair, relaxed. “yeah. i went on there when i was bored the other night, wasn’t expecting much. but then y/n popped up, and we just ended up talking. for a while.”

y/n nodded. “hours, actually.”

heeseung’s lips quirked up slightly. “yeah. until you disconnected.”

y/n huffed. “i didnt disconnect, my dumbass laptop died.” heeseung didn’t argue, just shook his head, amused. he already knew that much. sunghoon, however, still wasn’t convinced.

“so let me get this straight. you met on omegle,” sunghoon repeated slowly, “and now, a few days later, you just so happen to run into each other here?” something wasn’t adding up. they claimed they met by chance, but how could that be true when heeseung’s previous mentions of the girl were allegedly in person? if the latter wasn't true, how did he know she’d be here? no one just stumbles onto someone’s location like that—especially not a stranger.

y/n nodded with a grin, nudging natty. “see? i was just telling her i’d find him again.”

natty gave her a look, unimpressed. “yeah, but you have to realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

“sure, but i know better than to question fate,” y/n said with a smirk. and heeseung absolutely melted over that response. she didn’t question things, never overanalyzed. it made it all the more easier.

sunghoon, however, still couldn’t bring himself to let it go. he watched them, his mind running. he watched as y/n and heeseung continued to chat, their faces lighting up with the kind of easy conversations. heeseung had a way of downplaying things, but sunghoon had known him long enough to know when his friend was lying—or at least not telling the whole truth.

the way heeseung had flipped his story, so effortlessly, about how he truly met y/n felt so odd. it didn’t add up. and sunghoon had seen his friend fixated on something before, but this felt different. the way he was acting now as if everything had simply fallen into place, wasn’t how he’d been when they were first talking about this girl. something was off, but sunghoon couldn’t figure out exactly what.

his stomach churned as a weird feeling crept up on him. he didn’t want to be suspicious of his own friend, but something about this didn’t sit right. for now, though? he said nothing, just went back to finishing off the last pieces of his homework.

it had been a few hours now that the group had sat, chatting away at their tables. sunghoon had finished his work and put his suspicions in the back burner while he focused on being engaged in the conversation, still situationally aware in case heeseung had slipped up again. but things had gotten tame by now, and it was getting late. he didn’t say much as he packed up his belongings and put them away.

heeseung and y/n paid him no mind as they were still too deeply involved in their own conversation, and heeseung was delighted to say the least. y/n was completely different in person than she was online. her once timid demeanor has shifted into that of a devoted lover in his eyes. she was outwardly engaged, her focus was solely on him, and only him. she hadn’t even said much of anything to natty since she sat down, disregarding the times where the girl would speak to her first.

“here,” y/n said, pulling out her phone and handing it over to heeseung. he looked at it wide-eyed for a brief moment before quickly cooling his expression, tilting his head as he studied her curiously. she opened her apps section, clicking on instagram as she went to her search bar.

“i need your instagram. or would you prefer to give me your number?” she tilted her head, eyes searching his face, and when he didn’t respond right away, a small pout formed on her lips. heeseung blinked, momentarily thrown off. she was more forward than he had anticipated. too bold and it wasn’t that he didn’t like it—he just hadn’t expected it. in his mind, he had already mapped out how this would go, how he would lead the pace, dictate the push and pull, and savor every second of the chase. but in reality she was the one making the first moves. and if he was being honest, it kind of messed with his rhythm.

“unless you don’t want to..?” her voice was low now, almost being drowned out with the vibrant chatter that still boomed through the cafe. heeseung bit his lip, fighting to hold a smile. there it was. that insecurity, that approval seeking. his eyes met hers as he shook his head, grabbing the phone and exiting off of instagram and going to the phone app to dial his number. if she was going to make the first move, then he’d just have to take the control right back.

“sorry, i blanked,” he murmured, his tone dipping into something lower, smoother, as he let his charm do the work. his fingers moved over the screen, inputting his number, but his gaze never left hers. he let the moment stretch just long enough, let his words sink in before flashing her a slow, lopsided grin. “i’m just not used to a pretty girl making the first move.”

the way he leaned into it, he let the words settle between them like a challenge. and when y/n’s breath hitched, he knew he had her right where he wanted. “i don’t want to be the party pooper,” sunghoon’s voice sliced through the air of their moment, bringing everyone’s attention to him as he slung his back over his shoulder. “but i gotta hit the hay, i have AM classes tomorrow, can’t afford to be late.” he shot heeseung a look that ultimately was saying ‘let’s go’, to which the boy only pursed his lips as he handed y/n’s phone back to her without a word.

for a moment, her eyes flickered back and forth between the two boys, an uneasy feeling rising within her chest. she didn’t know what came over her before she blurted out. “do you really have to go?” her question was directed toward heeseung who was still gathering his belongings, completely ignoring sunghoon’s presence despite him being the one to speak up. heeseung almost swooned at her reaction. she truly did not care for anyone’s presence but his. he wondered how he had gotten so lucky to find a girl like her. so desperate, so eager to be around him.

“i mean, he’s my ride,” heeseung replied, his words devoid of sadness. it was evident in his tone that he had expected her to beg, wanting to see how far she would go just to not see him leave. he waited for her response as she pursed her lips, eyes wandering around the room as if she were finding the right words to say and the courage to voice them. when she finally spoke again, it was as if everything had fallen back into alignment of heeseung’s expectations

“i have a car. maybe you can stay for a while as i study, and i can drive you home afterward,” y/n suggested, her words sounding more like a question than a statement, as if she felt foolish for saying them. inviting a stranger to her home and promising a ride home? she had to be crazy. and natty seemed to think so, firmly kicking y/n’s shin under the table and shooting her a wide-eyed, warning look.

heeseung glanced at his friend sunghoon, who merely shrugged before turning on his heel. “do what you want, man.” he couldn’t care less at that point; it wasn’t his decision to make. the two of them seemed perfect for each other—young and reckless. maybe that’s what his friend needed.

“i do still have work tomorrow, so i can’t be out too late,” he chuckled, grabbing his cup as he got up, the two girls doing the same.

“oh of course, just let me know!”

and with that, they made their way to y/n’s car where y/n had offered heeseung passenger seat as courtesy while natty sat in the seat directly behind him. the vibe from there had changed. though y/n and heeseung were able to keep the chat going, natty refused to engage, ignoring every attempt y/n made to include her. instead, she scrolled through her phone in silence—until she sent a message that expressed everything she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

natty batty: are you fucking crazy? i understand you like him but there’s levels to this. you don’t even know him, y/n. this is dangerous.

y/n, focused on the road, didn’t see it. but heeseung did. his gaze flicked to the notification popping on his phone, his expression darkening for a split second before he forced it back into neutrality. it was a shame, really. he had hoped natty would warm up to him, but she was already resisting. that left him at risk if y/n listened to her best friend over him. and heeseung didn’t like obstacles. he needed to take control.

the drive was only fifteen minutes, but with the tension hanging thick in the air, it felt like an eternity. when they finally pulled into the driveway and made their way into the house, natty was lagging behind, every step she took a protest to the situation. she wanted to go home. she didn’t feel safe being here with heeseung, a complete stranger that she and y/n barely knew, but it was also the very reason she had to stay. she couldn’t bear the thought of leading y/n in harm’s way by leaving her alone with him. it was a dilemma. and if something happened, she’d never forgive herself.

so she settled onto the loveseat, keeping her distance while y/n and heeseung took the couch, sitting too close for her liking. she kept her eyes on her phone, but her ears were trained on their conversation, which seemed to flow endlessly.

heeseung didn’t know if it were the change in scenery or the close proximity he had to her, but y/n’s demeanor had transformed. she was no longer the playful, assertive girl from earlier. now, she was quieter, more reserved. the version of her he had first seen through that screen. he liked it.

“should we watch a movie?” he inquired, his doe eyes meeting hers as he titled his head. god, he was so damn handsome under the warm-toned lights. he looked too perfect to be real. but he had to be because he was right in front of her. y/n nodded, tossing him the remote before getting up to turn off the lights.

as the movie began playing, the soft glow of the screen casted shifting shadows across the room. y/n reached for the blanket draped over the couch, unfolding it with care before settling back into her spot beside heeseung. she threw it over herself, a good half of it falling on top of him as well.

and while they watched the screen, he couldn't help but get lost in the warmth from her body being near his. the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the small blanket enveloping their heat, it was intoxicating. a new kind of yearning settled in his chest. his hand moved beneath the blanket, fingers searching until they found the smooth skin of her thigh.

her fingers twitched at the unexpected contact, but she didn't pull away. heeseung hesitated for a moment, then let his hand linger, gently rubbing slow, soothing circles against her skin. it was then that he noticed that her hands were the skin he made contact with, her fingers brushing against his. without thinking, he took a hold of them, intertwining their fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world. and she wavered at first but then squeezed his hand in return, a silent confirmation. this was okay. this was wanted.

everything with y/n was effortless. she made it so easy for him to get close, to break unspoken boundaries without pushback. it made him wonder what made her this way. why was she so trusting, so soon? more than anything, though? he was grateful for it.

before long, their quiet hand holding turned into a more cuddling-like state. y/n inched closer, her body molding against his until she was laying on him. heeseung shifted to make room, one arm wrapping around her shoulder, and embraced the added heat from her thighs that she had thrown over his legs. the movie played on, but neither of them were paying attention now.

as y/n nestled closer into heeseung's embrace, his fingers traced lazy circles against her thigh, each circle inching higher. not too fast, not too slow, but just enough to keep her on edge. she tried to focus on the glowing screen, but the way he touched her made it impossible. every breath he took, she felt. every soft, raised movement of his fingers sent a ripple through her. it was overwhelming in a way she didn't expect, and she swore she could hear his heartbeat against her ear as she rested her head on his shoulder. she wondered if hers was just as loud, if he could feel how consumed she was in this moment.

across the room, natty glanced up from her phone. at first, the sight made her stomach churn. she wanted to be mad. she wanted to march over to y/n, drag her away and slap some sense into her. but as she watched them cuddle, something in her almost softened. maybe y/n was right. maybe she shouldn't question fate. so with a quiet sigh, she turned back to her phone, choosing for now to let it be.

heeseung, on the other hand, was losing himself completely. she didn’t even deny him access when his hands finally grazed her clothed cunt. she only silently spread her legs to give him more access. the small action made his grip tighten just slightly around her. all mine. the thought crept into his mind before he could stop it, and once it was there, he couldn't let it go.

she didn't know it yet, but this was already far beyond a casual moment for him. he had no intention of letting this be fleeting. he wanted her, in every way possible, and he was going to make sure she felt the same.

y/n shifted in his arms, adjusting herself to get more comfortable, and the movement snapped him out of his thoughts. he began pressing his thumb against the thickness of her jeans so she could feel him rubbing her clit. he looked down at her, watching as her lashes fluttered, her lips parting slightly as she let out a soft breath before biting her lip. the action, albeit not being much, felt so, so damn good.

"you like that?" heeseung murmured, his voice low, almost teasing. he maneuvered his fingers under her pants and panties in a swift motion, shoving his fingers down past the uncomfortable tightness that engulfed him. she nodded against his shoulder as his fingers finally made contact with her bare clit. he smirked, leaning down slightly, his lips dangerously close to her ear. "good."

his voice sent a shiver down her spine, but before she could react, he pulled back, his focus returning to the movie as if he hadn't just sent her heart into a frenzy. now, y/n wasn’t the type to admit when she wanted something, but the moment his hand left her, she felt the absence like a chill against her skin.

she huffed, shifting slightly, adjusting the way her legs draped over his lap to graze against the growing erection in his pants. he barely reacted, but she could see the way he stiffened. she scooted just a little closer, her knee raised before brushing against his stomach, an unspoken demand for his attention. still, nothing.

her frustration simmered, and she shifted again, more deliberately this time, grabbing his free hand and putting it on the button of her jeans, an intense stare in her eyes as if daring him to ignore her.

“getting comfortable?” he didn’t know whether to be more amused or aroused. he knew exactly what she was doing, and the boldness surprised him. he didn’t think she was the type to seek sexual pleasure in the presence of others, but it was just another way the two of them were alike. she only hummed in response, making him chuckle.

he let the silence stretch, waiting. then, with a smirk, his fingers found their way down again. he struggled to unbutton her jeans, so she moved hers down to swiftly unbutton them for him, letting him drag the zipper down as she lifted her ass slightly. once his fingers met her cunt, she shuddered. his touch was light at first, but the way it spread warmth across her skin, combined with the slow massaging on her nub, was so stimulating.

heeseung made sure to leave no areas untouched. dipping two fingers into her folds, he almost groaned at how soaked she already was despite his movements being little to none. y/n tried to keep her eyes on the screen, pretending to follow the movie, even as his fingers made their way inside, curling slowly as he thrusted them into her. she bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to stay still, doing everything in her power not to react.

natty was still right there, although absorbed in the movie, y/n wasn't about to give herself away. but heeseung wasn't making it easy. his thumb met her clit, pressing down just enough to make her breath hitch. she masked it with a cough, casually shifting her weight as if she was just getting comfortable, but she only wanted more.

"you good?" natty asked suddenly, eyes flicking toward y/n who looked like a deer caught in headlight. y/n nodded, her expression nearly failing to be perfectly composed.

"yeah. just stiff from sitting."

she could feel heeseung smirk beside her, his fingers scissoring her insides, testing her poker face. she refused to give him the satisfaction. so she kept her face neutral, eyes on the screen, and pretended she wasn't losing her mind.

heeseung could tell she was forcing herself to act unaffected, keeping her face blank like she wasn’t even paying attention to him. and maybe at first, it was amusing—watching her fight to stay composed, but the longer she kept up the act, the more it got to him. he pressed his thumb down a little firmer, moving his finger in slow and deliberate circles, the way he knew would make any girl melt. but still, nothing. she didn’t even spare so much as a glance his way. her eyes only stayed glued to the screen with an unreadable expression.

his jaw tightened. so that’s how she wanted to play? fine. he shifted, using one knee to lift her up, the other forcing her legs more open. he adjusted his hand, his touch becoming just a little more purposeful as he picked up his pace. he curled his fingers, shoving them as deep as he could until they brushed against that elusive spot deep within her that made her breath hitch. a barely there twitch in her jaw, a slow inhale she tried to contain. he smirked. got her.

now, he knew exactly what would get to her. slow, hard, calculated, and unrelenting thrusts. again, the tiniest reaction slipped through. a soft moan was cut short as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, though her body still responded to his every movement as he continued.

he chuckled, leaning in slightly. he murmured just low enough for her to hear, “you can keep pretending, but we both know you’re losing it.”

y/n’s fingers curled into the blanket draped over their legs, her poker face still intact—but he could see the way her shoulders tensed and the way her breath came just a little quicker. he had her right where he wanted.

and heeseung was relentless. his touch stayed slow, but each movement served its purpose, making y/n swallow hard. all she could focus on was him, the way his fingers moved inside her cunt, the way his thumb still circled ever so slowly around her clit. he was dragging it out just to mess with her.

her hips buckled upward, just enough to press closer, hoping he'd realize the silent plea she was making. but instead of giving her more, he eased up pulling his fingers out almost as quickly as he buried them inside. he was barely touching her now, only offering clit action to keep her in an aroused state.

"heeseung," she whispered, her voice so quiet it barely made a sound. he heard it loud and clear, and almost wanted to pretend as if he didn’t, but the look on her face made the blood rush to his already painfully hard cock. he couldn’t ignore it. but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feign innocence.

"hm?" he hummed, acting like he had no idea what she was calling him for.

her fingers moved under the blanket, grabbing at his hand each time he’d move it from her, frustration bubbling under her skin. she knew he wanted her to say it, to admit that she needed more. but she wasn't going to.

she tried again, thrusting as subtly as she could into his hand, pressing into his touch, silently begging him to just do something. but his lack of reaction was all she was met with.

“please,” it was almost a whisper yell at that point, and she was thankful for the tv’s loud volume because if natty were to hear, it would be over. her breath came out shaky as her patience wore thin. she hesitated for only a second before finally whispering again, "faster."

his lips curled into a smirk. thatta girl. "what was that?"

she shot him a glare, barely holding it together. "please," she gritted out, her voice so soft that only he could hear. "please go faster."

satisfied, heeseung finally gave in, fingers wasting no time to dive right back inside of her cunt as if it were their rightful place. the quickness of it all made her body jump as he picked up the pace, just enough to make her whole body tense and her pussy to clench around his fingers.

"good girl," he murmured. it was hell for him to only be able to sit there and work his magic, he wanted to feel all over her, kiss her neck, leave hickeysㅡ he wanted to hear her moan out his name, hear her beg aloud. but for now, the sight of her facial expressions, eyes squinting with lips parted only slightly as she tried to fight back any noises her body so desperately wantedㅡ no needed to make. it was enough for him for now.

y/n was barely holding it together. every nerve in her body was burning as that oh so familiar knot started forming in her stomach. she was getting dangerously close, her body betraying her despite how hard she tried to keep still and stay quiet. her breaths were coming out uneven as she gripped the blanket tighter.

her head tipped back slightly, her lips parting just enough for a shaky breath to slip out. she bit down on the inside of her cheek, trying to hold herself together. but heeseung wasn’t making it easy.

“so quiet,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. he was finding it hard to contain himself as well as he thrusted his hips into her thigh, his cock wanting so badly to be put to use. “thought you were watching the movie.”

she wanted to rebuttal or at least snap back with some kind of sassy retort, but she couldn’t trust herself enough to speak because at this point it would give everything away. natty was still there, completely unaware at how much of a desperate slut her best friend was being. she didn’t even want to think about how the girl would react if she got caught up.

she shifted slightly, trying to get more. her nails found refuge as they dug into her palm, her body wound so tight she thought she might break. just a little more, just a little closer, her hole was now throbbing around him, everything felt hot and she was sure she’d come undone with a few more thrusts.

her whimpers were becoming more audible as his speed slowed to a more rhythmic pace, her orgasm crashing almost seconds after. she threw her hand to cover her mouth as he continued fingering her through her high, biting hard into her palm’s skin.

heeseung smirked at the sight of her. by now, his tip was leaking a pool of precum through his sweats. he didn’t know how much longer he could hold back. he pulled out and brought his fingers to his mouth, licking up her juices before pulling them out with a loud pop.

now his eyes were dark, filled with something primal as he watched her. he could barely restrain the desire burning beneath the surface. "lay down," he growled, his voice low, rough with lust.

y/n hesitated for only a second, her eyes flickering towards natty, who paid them no mind, before obeying. she scooted downward, allowing the blanket to engulf her as her head disappeared underneath the fabric. heeseung’s eyes followed hers. hovering the blanket, his gaze traced every inch of her like he was memorizing the sight of her beneath him as she looked up at him with bedroom eyes. the movement alone made his dick twitch.

slowly, she helped him push his sweats down while he lifted his hips to aid the process, his cock springing up and smacking his lower belly region. she gawked at the sight of it, it was even bigger than what she had seen on their video call. it was intimidating almost, how did he expect her to fit all of that? his hands found the back of her head, grabbing a chunk of her hair to push her mouth onto his tip. she complied, opening her mouth to take it in as she kitty licked it, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

heeseung let out a sharp exhale, his jaw clenched, and his composure slipped just a little as he let out a choked up groan. it was like a reward, the way her mouth moved at his cock’s head, bobbing as she hollowed her cheeks. he sucked in a breath, biting his lip as he pushed her head lower forcing her to take in the entirety of his length, not caring for the gags she let out from not being able to handle all of his size.

“aw, fuck,” he praised, voice thick with something almost dangerous. heeseung's grip tightened in y/n's hair, his breathing ragged as he thrusted his hips upwards, fucking into her face. she could only look up at him, a knowing glint in her teary eyes, as she let him continue hammering her throat. the sensation burned, but that made it feel all the more rewarding.

his control was slipping with every second. it felt so good, she made him feel so good. the sounds filling the room were obscene, his low groans mixing with the wet, muffled squelching noises beneath the blanket.

lost in the moment, he sped up, chasing the high that was coming dangerously close. he whimpered, biting his lip, ignoring the way y/n punched on his thigh for a breather. neither of them had noticed when natty finally turned her head. a sharp gasp cut through the air like a slap.

"are you guys fucking serious?!" natty's voice shrieked, filled with disbelief and absolute disgust.

y/n froze, her entire body going stiff as shame crashed over her. she was glad she couldn’t see the scene unfolding in front of her, but she knew exactly how it looked. heeseung cursed under his breath, helping y/n pick her head up to save face, but the damage was already done.

natty shot up from the couch, snatching her things with loud, unexaggerated gags. "you're so disgusting. you are actually so disgusting, y/n."

y/n’s face burned, her heart was pounding against her ribs. she opened her mouth, searching for something—anything to say, but what was there? an apology? for something she could have easily chosen not to do? for something she didn’t regret in the slightest?

the door slammed behind natty as she stormed out, the sharp sound lingering in the heavy silence her absence left behind. shame settled between them, thick and suffocating, but y/n barely let it sink in as she sat up, peeling the blanket away.

her eyes flicked to heeseung as she pursed her lips in thought. for a moment, she debated, then shrugged. grabbing the remote, she switched off the movie before turning to him with a playful grin. “so… do you wanna take this to the bedroom now?”

heeseung blinked. the shock was clear on his face as his mind scrambled to process her words. confusion flickered in his eyes, but beneath it was something else. something darker, something intrigued.

he watched her carefully, still trying to understand the way she brushed everything off so easily. natty had just stormed out, disgust practically dripping from her words, and yet y/n sat there like nothing had happened. he raised a brow, leaning back against the couch. “you’re not gonna go after her?”

“it’s not like it would change anything,” y/n said as she stretched her arms above her head, rolling out the tension in her shoulders before meeting his gaze with another shrug. “she made her choice, we’ll talk it out later.”

heeseung didn't bother responding. words felt pointless when the only thing running through his mind was her, the way she sat there, so shameless, so unbothered. maybe she really didn’t care. or maybe she just refused to let it show. either way, he found himself even more drawn in.

without warning, he leaned in, crashing his lips against hers, his hands immediately finding their way to her waist and pulling her onto his lap. y/n let out a muffled gasp, but she didn't resist. if anything, she melted into his touch, matching his tempo, her fingers slipping into his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan against her mouth.

the kiss was messy, desperate. all teeth and hunger, like they were both chasing the same high. heeseung's hands roamed her body, gripping at her as if to reassure himself that she was really there, really his. not only in the moment but forever. when he pulled back, his breathing was jagged while his forehead rested against hers. "bedroom. now."

and y/n didn't hesitate. she slid off his lap, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the hallway, her smile never fading. as soon as they made it into the bedroom, heeseung barely gave her a chance to steady herself before backing her up against the door. his lips found hers again, deepening the kiss as he bathed in every sound she made.

y/n breathed out a moan as he pressed closer, his warmth a great contrast against her skin. her fingers curled around the hem of his sweater, tugging impatiently. heeseung smirked against her lips but didn't make her wait, he pulled it off in one swift motion, letting it drop to the floor before reaching for her in return.

the air between them was thick, charged with the desire that neither of them cared to hold back anymore. his hands found the edge of her shirt, his fingertips skimming her skin as he leaned down, voice low against her ear. "you really don't feel bad about natty leaving?"

y/n shivered at the way his breath ghosted over her skin, but she only smiled, tilting her head up to meet his eyes. "i have better things to focus on."

his gaze darkened, a quiet chuckle slipping past his lips before he closed the distance again. his hands found the small of her back, lifting her to wrap her legs around his waist. they were firm as he guided them backwards, their lips never breaking apart as he stumbled toward the bed.

as heeseung hovered over y/n, his gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world, like she was something delicate yet untouchable, a dream he had finally been granted permission to hold. his fingers traced the strands of her hair, admiring the way they fanned out against the sheets, the way the warm glow of the bedside lamp reflected in her eyes.

he wanted this moment to be perfect. he needed it to be. everything about y/n consumed him, embedding itself so deep that he wasn’t sure he could ever get rid of her. not that he wanted to. she was meant to be his, and he wanted to make sure she felt that—make sure she never doubted how much he wanted her, how much he needed her.

his fingertips ghosted over her cheek, trailing down to her jaw before brushing against her collarbone. he took a seat next to her, his touch never leaving her skin.

y/n’s breath hitched. she had never wanted someone the way she wanted him. her entire body felt like it was on fire under his gaze, his touch leaving trails of heat wherever it lingered. she had imagined moments like this before, but none of them compared to this—to the way he looked at her, to the way he made her feel like she was the center of his universe.

her fingers twitched, aching to reach for him, to pull him closer, to feel more of him. she didn’t care that they had only just met or that everything about this was reckless. all she knew was that she wanted him, desperately, completely, and genuinely.

heeseung’s lips curled into a small smile, as if he could sense her thoughts, as if he knew exactly what she wanted. he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with possessiveness. all he needed was her word.

“tell me what you want, y/n.” his fingers traced down her arm, sending a shiver through her. her lips parted, her mind hazy with longing, with desire, but the words were caught in her throat.

“please don't make me beg.”

heeseung chuckled, low and sensually, before capturing her lips in his once more. “oh baby, i think you’ve earned it now.”

y/n bit back a smile, as he dipped his head in between her legs. he licked up a stripe, and it felt like magic. every suckle on her clit, every time his tongue dipped deep between her folds, it sent shivers through her body. he could taste the sweat she had worked up from their endeavors on the couch. he savored the salty flavor mixing with the sweet juices leaking out of her.

she held herself up by her elbows and could only watch with hooded eyes as she stared down at him. there was something about the way he effortlessly held eye contact, as if he wasn’t nearly sucking her soul, that almost made her eyes roll back. she was in awe at the sight of her slick covering his nose, lips, and chin. he was gorgeous.

he began leaving a trail of wet kisses amongst her thighs as his fingernails unintentionally dug into her soft skin as he smiled against it. oh, he was gone. and he lost himself even more the minute her fingers slipped into his hair before grinding against his face.

heeseung was the perfect mix of rough and gentle. everything he did left her wanting more. as he lay sprawled out on the bed, his legs subconsciously lifted and started swinging back and forth.

he was having a time. at that point he wasn't sure if he was eating more for his own pleasure or not as he buried his face deep into her cunt. his hips bucked into the satin blanket, though it did nothing to ease the ache he grew from being so hard for so long. and there was no need for fingers when his tongue and nose were an even better substitute. she was getting every form of stimulation from his face alone.

her grip on his hair was harsh as she threw her head back with a loud moan. he let out a combined and muffled whimper-moan against her cunt, tongue fucking her. then he moved to suck on her clit. she couldn’t hold it back, her body had only given her a subtle warning before an orgasm crashed over her.

“fuck!” she exclaimed as she gripped her breast. arching her back into his face, her hand forcefully held his head in place as she rode her high out. not that he wanted to move anyway, she was literally cumming inside his mouth. he would stay here forever if he could help it.

and it took her a second to pry him off, immediately tongue kissing him when she did. she tasted as much as she could of herself and heeseung found it so sexy. he deepened the kiss, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her closer with roughness.

when he finally pulled away for a breath, his eyes lingered on her like he was afraid to look away, as if she might disappear if he did. they held so much love, admiration, possession. he had never felt this way before, he’d never knew he’d need someone like this.

he was desperate for her in a way that scared him, in a way that felt like he would never be the same without her. she had slipped into his lifeㅡinto his mind so suddenly, so effortlessly, and yet it felt like she was always meant to be there, in his arms, under his touch.

he pressed his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched hers. his hold on her head softened, his cheeks burning red while he held gently onto her like she was his lifeline.

"fuck, y/n, i want you so bad." his voice was raw, almost shaky, thick with emotion and something deeper, something unspoken. his lips hovered near hers again, not quite touching, just close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath. he searched her eyes, desperate to see the same hunger, the same longing reflected back at him.

"then have me," she murmured, voice barely above a breath, but it was all he needed.

his lips met hers, rushed and deep, without failing to pour every unspoken word, every hidden feeling into the kiss. he grabbed his cock, lazily lining himself at her entrance and coating his tip with her juices before pushing in. the stretch made y/n’s back arch as she winced in pain, but he kept moving, slowly sliding in until he bottomed out. her nails found their way to his back as she scratched. he slowly started moving after letting her adjust for a moment, each thrust hitting perfectly on her g-spot.

"you don't know how much i've been thinking of you," he murmured between breaths, his chest pressing against her as his lips lingered near her ear, the words coming out almost desperately. "you're mine, y/n. everything i've done, everything that's happened... it's all to show you how much i want you. how much i need you.."

she didn’t hear much of anything he was babbling about because not too long after, he had her legs to her head, penetrating her deeply. her moans were loud and pornographic, echoing against the walls. she couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. her senses were at an all time high and the only constant was heeseung. she could only see heeseung, only breathe him, only taste him. and she was on the verge of tears because of how good he made her feel. her body stiffened before another orgasm shot throughout her body.

he didn’t even try to give her body a break as his thrusts never lost their tempo. he had her whole body shaking, her hands alternating between gripping his hair to scratching his back unsure of where to go as they desperately tried to exude the overwhelming amount of pleasure still brewing.

“f-feels so good,” was all she could manage to get out. “so, so good.” he smirked before pulling out swiftly. he almost came just from hearing those words. but he had to hold back because was nowhere near through with her.

heeseung's grip on her tightened as he guided her into a position where she was on all fours, his touch firm as he did so. he leaned in, placing a tender kiss on each ass cheek.

he took a deep inhale as he licked her asshole, tongue flicking away happily. he pulled back to spit before diving back in, swirling, lapping away. his breath was heavy when he pulled back, his body humming with unrestrained hunger for her as he slammed back inside of her, his fingers digging into her hips to hold her steady.

“and here i thought you were the innocent type," he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. he let out a low chuckle, leaning over her, his chest flush against her back as he whispered in her ear. "but seeing you like this.. so shameless. such a slutty and desperate whore for me—" he exhaled sharply, a groan rumbling in his chest. "it's so much more rewarding."

his hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades, pushing her face down into the mattress as he moved with deep, relentless strokes. the room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed beneath them, their bodies moving in perfect rhythm.

heeseung's grip on reality was slipping; all he could focus on was the way she felt, how she responded to him so willingly, so perfectly. her cunt clenched around her, letting him know she was close again. her moans were past the point of emitting sound louder than occasional high squeals.

"mine," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with unshakable certainty. "all mine." he could feel himself unraveling, could feel the intensity building with each thrust he managed to get out despite the effort he put into holding back his own climax.

his free hand slid to her waist, holding her even closer, anchoring himself. she was everything he had ever wanted more than he had ever expected. and in this moment, nothing else in the world existed but her. even her backside was sexy. he was enchanted by every part of her.

“fuck, let me cum on your face, baby.” he bit his lip as he pulled out after a few thrusts, replacing her cunt with his hand as he stroked himself. she complied and turned onto her back, gazing up at him with sparkly eyes. her breath was unsteady, lips slightly parted as she stuck her tongue out, waiting for his next move. heeseung’s heart pounded at the sight—she looked so delicate beneath him, completely trusting, completely his. he never broke eye contact as he continued stroking, fucking into his hand.

his hips stuttered as sprouts of his cum painted her face. she caught as much as she could on her tongue, licking her lips as she smiled at him. it was sweet, it was tangy, and it was so deliciously his. he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling as his fingers intertwined with hers. he never wanted to let her go.

Webcam Perv! (1)

[d-z20]

For Your Own Good (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: You're on your third all-nighter in a row and your girlfriend is not having it. She tries to ask nicely but you are a stubborn so-and-so who's stressing about deadlines so she resorts to other methods

- OR -

Agatha helps you unwind in the best way she knows: by fucking you until you're too exhausted to move

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, top Agatha, bottom masc reader, 'good boy' used for reader, praise, established dynamic, fingering (R recv), oral (R recv), mattress grinding/humping, subtle sub/dom themes

Words: 2.9k

A/N: Finally written a fic with an explicitly masc reader getting called a good boy :D I had imagined a masc Agatha too but it can be interpreted in anyway requested fic

AO3 | Masterlist

The glow of the laptop screen casts sharp shadows across your cluttered desk, highlighting the deep furrow between your brows. Your fingers fly across the keyboard, the rhythmic tapping the only sound in the dimly lit apartment. Scattered notes, half-drunk cups of coffee, and a plate with an untouched sandwich bear witness to the relentless battle you're waging against your coursework. You barely blink, eyes scanning over dense paragraphs, lips pressing into a thin line of determination.

Agatha stands in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, weight shifted lazily to one side. Her jaw tenses as she watches you, concern etched into the hard lines of her face. She’s let this go on long enough—one all-nighter was bad enough, but three in a row? That’s a disaster waiting to happen. She exhales sharply through her nose before pushing off the frame and stepping forward, boots scuffing against the hardwood.

“Sweetheart,” her voice cuts through the thick silence, warm but edged with authority. “What the hell are you still doing up?”

You don’t so much as glance up. “Just finishing one last section,” you mutter, tapping a few more keys. “I’m almost done, I swear.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, knowing damn well you’ve said the same thing yesterday. With slow, deliberate steps, she comes up behind you, hands settling on your tense shoulders. You flinch at first, as if you’d forgotten she was even there, before sighing under the pressure of her firm grip.

“You said that last night,” she reminds you, kneading at the knots in your muscles. “And the night before that. Baby, you’re running on fumes.”

Your posture stiffens. “I can handle it.”

“Come on, darling,” she coaxes, dipping her head slightly, her voice warm but insistent. “You’re not going to learn anything if your brain’s fried.”

“I said I can handle it. I’m fine.” The words come out clipped, your fingers still moving over the keyboard with stubborn determination.

“That so?” Her thumbs press in deeper, a calculated move that has you biting back a groan. “Because it looks to me like you’re about to pass out face-first into that damn keyboard.”

Your jaw tightens, fingers still moving, unwilling to relent. Agatha lets out a slow breath through her nose, reeling in her patience. The soft approach isn’t cutting it.

She bends down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Come to bed,” she coaxes, voice dropping lower, smooth and persuasive. “You can use me as a pillow. I’ll even let you steal the covers.”

You swallow, hesitating just for a second before shaking your head. “Can’t. The deadline’s too close.”

A muscle in Agatha’s jaw ticks. Alright. You want to be difficult? She can handle that.

Straightening, she moves in front of you, planting her hands on the desk and leaning forward just enough that you have no choice but to meet her gaze. “I don’t like repeating myself.” Her voice drops an octave, that commanding edge slipping in. “You need sleep.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, tipping your head back. “What are you gonna do, carry me off to bed?”

“If I have to.” A slow smirk creeps onto her lips, and something dark flickers in her eyes, something that sends a sharp jolt through your already exhausted body.

Your scoff holds no real weight. “You wouldn’t.”

Agatha arches a brow. “Try me.”

Before you can form a retort, she swoops in, one arm hooking under your knees while the other slides around your back, lifting you clean off the chair in one swift motion. Your body is cradled effortlessly against her chest, your legs bent over the crook of her arm. A startled noise tears from your throat, hands instinctively gripping her shoulders.

“Agatha! Put me down—”

“Nope.” She adjusts her hold with practiced ease, shifting your weight so that one arm slides fully beneath your thighs while the other moves up to support the middle of your back, pressing you snug against her torso. Your head naturally rests near the curve of her shoulder, her grip firm and unyielding. “You had your chance to walk, gorgeous.”

Your pulse jumps as she carries you down the hall, her strength effortless, her scent wrapping around you—oud, cedar, and something undeniably Agatha. You squirm, trying to protest, but the tightening of her grip warns you that resistance is pointless. Then, just as you think about trying again, her lips graze your ear, her voice dipping into something low and honeyed.

“Be a good boy for me, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and whatever fight was left in you fizzles out instantly.

The bedroom door nudges open with a soft creak; she deposits you onto the bed, pressing you down with the weight of her body before you can even think about running.

“You think I’m gonna let you run yourself into the ground over some assignment?” Her hand slides up your chest, fingers tracing the sharp lines of your collarbone, down to where your heartbeat thrums wildly beneath her palm. “Nuhuh, darling. That’s not happening.”

You gulp, suddenly very aware of how effortlessly Agatha is pinning you down. “I—”

“Shh.” She leans in, her lips ghosting over yours. “I’m gonna have to tire you out myself since you clearly don’t know when to stop.”

The sharp hitch in your breath doesn’t go unnoticed. Agatha smirks against your skin, her knee pressing between your thighs, pinning you down with effortless strength. Her weight is solid, grounding, leaving you nowhere to escape—not that you would, even if you could. She knows it too, sees it in the way your fingers twitch against her shoulders, your body tensing, fighting a battle between resistance and surrender. She leans in, lips grazing the shell of your ear as her voice drops, dark and knowing.

“Be a good boy for me,” she purrs, letting the heat of her words settle over your skin. “And let me take care of you.”

Agatha’s presence looms over you, her lips ghosting over your neck, a slow, tantalising trail of heat that sends shivers down your spine. Teeth graze your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you gasp, but she only smiles against your throat, clearly enjoying the effect she has on you. 

A shudder rolls through you, sharp and betraying. You hate how easily she reads you, how easily she knows exactly what buttons to press and exactly how to unravel you, no matter how stubborn you try to be. Her hands slide down your sides with slow deliberation, fingertips teasing over the fabric of your shirt before slipping beneath, warm against your skin. Her touch is confident, making it clear that in this moment, you belong entirely to her.

You shift beneath her, but Agatha doesn’t budge. If anything, her grip tightens. “You have to fight me on everything, don’t you?” She muses, dragging her lips along your jaw, nipping at the delicate skin just below it.

The words hit you like a challenge, a dare that ignites something dark inside you. You try to squirm, to break free, but her grip tightens again, one hand now pinning your wrists above your head, the other trailing down your torso with deliberate slowness. Every inch of you is her playground, and she knows it. 

She tilts her head, watching the way your breath stutters, the way your pupils dilate under the weight of her stare. Her fingers trace over your stomach, dipping lower, teasing—not giving you what you need just yet, just showing you she could if she wanted to. She takes her time, revelling in the way your resolve starts to crack, in the way your body slowly starts to melt into her.

“Always so damn stubborn,” she teases, dragging her lips lower to your collarbone. “But you’re mine tonight, aren’t you? Just putty in my hands.”

Your lips part, a protest forming, but before you can get a word out, she presses forward, stealing the breath from your lungs with a kiss that leaves no room for argument. It’s deep, slow, utterly consuming. Her teeth catch your bottom lip, tugging at it, before she soothes it with her tongue. You feel yourself sinking, your fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt, desperate for something to hold onto as she takes you apart piece by piece.

She pulls back to lock eyes with you before whispering, “Just relax for me, sweetheart.”

Her voice is thick with satisfaction, her hands mapping out every inch of you like she’s memorising the way you react. Her touch is firm and possessive, and the praise spills effortlessly from her lips between heated kisses.

“Such a pretty boy for me.” 

A slow drag of her nails down your stomach.

“So good for me when you finally stop fighting.” 

A kiss against your collarbone, followed by the sharp bite of her teeth.

“You’re driving me insane,” you mutter, your voice hoarse with frustration and need. 

You try to move your hips, but her grip only tightens, her body pressing against yours with unyielding strength. She can feel the tension in your muscles, your desperation, and she smirks, knowing she has you exactly where she wants you.

“Look at you,” she taunts, her voice a smooth drawl full of wicked amusement. “So desperate to finally unwind.”

Her fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants, a teasing brush of knuckles against sensitive skin. She doesn’t rush. She savours, lets the anticipation build, enjoys the way your breath stutters, the way your hips twitch ever so slightly as if trying to chase the contact you need her to give.

“Patience,” she chides, her lips ghosting over your jaw, the heat of her breath sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “I’ll take good care of you, baby.”

She slides her hand further down, fingers curling between your thighs, stroking slow, measured circles over your clit that make your entire body tense with aching need. Your hips jerk involuntarily, and she chuckles, low and knowing.

“Yes,” she murmurs, her voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s it. Let me hear you.”

You can’t help but gasp; your body already thrumming with anticipation, but Agatha still isn’t in a hurry. She takes her time, working you over with practiced precision, each touch calculated to make you melt further beneath her. 

Her fingers trail lower, teasing at your entrance, her gaze fixed intently on every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face. The moment your eyes flutter shut, a frustrated moan slipping past your lips, she finally pushes in, finding that perfect spot that has you unraveling beneath her, your sounds spilling freely for her to drink in.

Your hands claw at her shoulders, your nails biting into muscle as your breath stutters into something helpless, something raw. But she just smiles wickedly against your throat, dragging her teeth along your pulse before sucking a bruise into your skin, marking you as hers.

As she guides you closer to the edge, her lips find yours in a kiss that’s both soft and demanding, a tantalising mix of tenderness and raw hunger. She swallows your moan, her tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you completely, and you can feel the vibration of her growl against your lips.

The moment you think you can’t take it anymore, she pulls back to admire her handiwork. Your chest rises and falls in ragged breaths, skin flushed, pupils blown wide with desire. Agatha’s gaze darkens, drinking in the sight of you unravelled beneath her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she breathes, voice husky, laced with hunger.

Agatha toys with the hem of your shirt before slipping beneath the fabric. Her touch is slow, feeling every inch of newly exposed skin as she inches it upward. Her nails scratch lightly over your stomach, making you shudder. The grin tugging at her lips is unmistakable—she’s enjoying this, watching you squirm beneath her, utterly at her mercy.

“I want to see you,” she coaxes, voice thick with authority and something that makes your breath catch. When you don’t resist, she peels your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before making quick work of your pants. Every inch of bare skin is met with the heat of her gaze, the weight of her presence pressing heavier onto your body.

“So, so beautiful.” It’s almost like she’s talking to herself, fingers skimming over your thigh before tracing back up, ghosting over your ribs. You shiver, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach as her lips follow, leaving a searing path along your shoulder and down your chest, lingering over every spot that makes you gasp.

She takes her time, lips and teeth teasing, coaxing you further under her control before her mouth moves lower, settling between your thighs. With you now bare beneath her, she’s on you in a matter of seconds, her breath fanning against sensitive skin. Agatha’s grip tightens on your hips as she presses you down, pinning you beneath her as she drags her tongue over your clit, her pace torturously slow. As she does, you feel the subtle press of her own hips against the mattress, a slow grind of her own need that sends a wave of heat through you, intensifying the sensation of her every movement.

Your hands tangle in her hair, fingers tightening instinctively as a filthy moan rips from your throat. Your hips jerk, seeking more, but Agatha keeps you firmly in place, her grip on your thighs unyielding. She chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending another sharp jolt of pleasure through you, making your breath stutter. As she continues to rock her hips against the bed, her own rhythm starting to match the teasing pace she’s setting on you, the heat between you both begins to build, a tension that fills the room.

Then, just as the tension coils impossibly tight inside you, her fingers join the fray—slipping into you with a slow, calculated precision that leaves you trembling. She moves in sync with her mouth, a dizzying rhythm that pulls you under, drowning you in sensation. The contrast has you whimpering, your body caught between the edge of bliss and the unbearable ache of wanting more. As she grinds herself deeper into the mattress, the added pressure of her movement pushes her closer to the edge, and you can feel it in the urgency of her touch.

“Fuck you taste so good,” she groans, the heat of her breath making you shudder. “I want to feel you cum on my tongue.”

Her words are both a command and a promise, and you can do nothing but obey. She doesn’t let up, doesn’t falter, working you with a patience that borders on cruel, unravelling you inch by inch. Every stroke, every flick of her tongue is purposeful, drawing you closer, coaxing you to the brink until the pressure inside you turns unbearable. Your body tightens, muscles clenching around her as your breath turns ragged, the pleasure cresting into something all-consuming. With every motion of her hips against the bed, she pulls herself closer to her own release, her movements becoming more urgent and intense.

And then she pushes you over.

Your orgasm slams into you, overwhelming and unrelenting, pleasure rippling through every nerve like a live wire. A choked cry tumbles from your lips as your back arches, your entire body shuddering beneath her hold. Agatha doesn’t stop—she rides out every wave with you, her hands firm on your hips, her tongue still teasing, still claiming, as she continues to grind into the mattress, using the friction to chase her own climax. The intensity of her rhythm keeps you spiralling, dragging out every second of pleasure until you’re boneless beneath her, pleasure spilling over in thick, breathless aftershocks.

She finally eases, her pace slowing, her touch turning soft as she presses one last, lingering kiss to your trembling skin. She doesn’t move right away; instead, staying close, her palm smoothing over your thigh in slow, lazy circles, grounding you in the aftermath.

“Tired now?” She teases, pressing a gentle kiss to your jaw.

You try to mumble a retort, something snarky, but the words barely form before she hushes you with another kiss, softer this time, slower.

“That’s what I thought.”

She shifts, manoeuvring you effortlessly until you’re curled against her, her arm slung over your waist, keeping you close. You don’t fight it. Instead, you relax into her warmth, your fingers lazily gripping at her shirt, keeping her exactly where she is.

Agatha smooths a hand over your hair, thumb tracing lazy circles against your temple. “I better not catch you pulling another all-nighter,” she hums, voice low and firm.

Half asleep, you mumble. “I mean, if this is the punishment for it...”

Agatha chuckles, shaking her head. “Brat.” But she pulls you closer anyway, making sure you don’t slip away to start working again.

She lets out a quiet sigh, content, pressing a kiss to your forehead as her fingers card gently through your hair. “That’s better,” she surrates, her voice softer now, threaded with something fond. “You’re not allowed to work yourself sick, y’hear me?”

A sleepy hum is your only answer, your body pliant and spent against hers. A satisfied smirk tugs at her lips as she holds you tighter, her grip firm and possessive.

“There we go; that’s my good boy,” she whispers, a note of pride slipping into her voice.

You sigh, half-asleep but content, and Agatha lets her own eyes drift shut, knowing damn well she won’t be letting you pull another all-nighter anytime soon.

-----

taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6stolenangel9 @jujuu23 @juls-stark

[revelboo]

hey, hope this months been good to you thus far and that january ended on a good note for you. appreciate you a lot ✌️✌️

Thank you! I hope your year is off to a good start, too

It Had to Be You Pt 17

TFO Megatron x Reader

• Draped against him, one of his hands is resting against your spine, sliding slowly up and down before his servos tangle in the hair at the back of your head. Making a soft noise, you wiggle on top of him, feeling his spark thrumming under you. That steady rhythm soothing you. As familiar now as the beat of your own heart. Still feel off balance from that contact with his spark. The glimpses you’d gotten of his memories feeling as real as your own. “You held back from me,” he says, red optics sliding to you then away as his jaw works. “Why?” Confused, you reach up to touch his bottom lip and his head turns away.

• Thought you’d finally trusted him. That the two of you had gotten past the fighting. Past resisting each other, but you’d not submitted to him when he’d bonded you. Hadn’t given him everything. And your expression is confused when you prop yourself up on your elbows on his chassis to look down at him. “What’s that mean?” Like you don’t realize what you’d done. What you’d denied him. Spark aching with that missing connection, with what should be.

• What’s he in a mood about now? See his lip lift slightly to show denta before he gently thumps the back of his helm against the berth a couple times. “The bond,” he growls, servos shifting against the back of your head, cupping it. “It’s not complete. You have to feel it.” Frowning at his tone, you remember being tangled in him. Overwhelmed as he’d coaxed you, wrapping himself about you. And you’d ignored that sweet pull humming through you, ignored his coaxing.

• “It was a lot,” you mutter, avoiding his optics now. Venting tiredly, he tries to let go of the tension. It hadn’t been a no. You hadn’t denied him. Can feel the imperfect bond prickling through his spark. Demanding to be completed. That he tangle himself so fully in you that you’ll never be free of him. But this isn’t something he can just demand or take. It has to be given willingly. And patience has never been his strength. “I didn’t really know what was happening. You didn’t warn me.”

• “A lot,” he echoes, voice strained. “I offer you everything and it’s a lot.” Servos restlessly playing with your hair, his optics shutter. “I’m trying. You have no idea how hard I’m trying.” Leaning up on him, you brush your mouth against his and he finally looks at you. Annoyed and hopeful all at the same time as his other hand lands on your hip. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that reminds you of the glimpses you’d seen of D 16. Of who he’d been before Sentinel’s lies had broken him of trust. And he’s trusting you, giving you the ability to hurt him. But You hadn’t been able to do the same, you’d balked, because it had felt like losing a piece of yourself giving in to him.

• “I’m trying too, okay.” Those eyes he gets lost in are so serious as you brush another kiss against him that feels like an apology. Knows he should have explained first, should have stopped you from touching him without understanding what you were committing to. Another Cybertronian would have known. Wouldn’t have given up their freedom to tie themself to him willingly. And he’d taken advantage of your ignorance to get what he wanted. To make a permanent claim on you. Would you have still chosen to reach out and forge that imperfect connection if you’d known what it meant? He’s not sure and a hurt part of him isn’t capable of just asking. Afraid of what the answer might be.

Previous

[signanothername]

I have questions with the timeline

How did the last horror escape? Does night eventually go off to kill him?

The last dust how did he get killed? And why?

How many dust’s and horrors does nm go through?

Is nm getting killed part of the timeline? Is the therapy comics?

Context

How did the last horror escape? Does night eventually go off to kill him?

I’d like to keep how he escaped a secret for now, cause I’d love to make a comic for it at some point >:)

Nightmare can’t kill him, Horror escaped only after ensuring that Nightmare would not have access to his AU, or be able to find him, meaning that Horror, his brother and all his AU is completely safe from Nightmare (let’s say Horror’s patience and tendency to be quiet and away from Nightmare’s attention granted him the opportunity to find an escape right under Nightmare’s nonexistent nose)

The last dust how did he get killed? And why?

Murder was killed after Horror’s escape, Nightmare is facing a lot of mental and emotional difficulties at the time, Murder’s death was the result of an emotional outburst after Murder’s usual provocation that Murder took up a notch after he found himself all alone with his abuser, tension was high on both ends, and it resulted in Murder’s unfortunate demise

I even actually made a quick sketchy unfinished one page comic for it

How many dust’s and horrors does nm go through?

Murder is the one who gets mostly replaced, followed by Killer, Horror never gets replaced, it’s the exact same Horror from beginning to end, as for how many Murders Nightmare goes through, I honestly haven’t thought about it thoroughly yet, so I can’t give you a specific number as of now, I’ll mention it later once I settle on something, but it’s definitely more than Killer (who got replaced 4 times up to Killer 5)

Is nm getting killed part of the timeline? Is the therapy comics?

Both the therapy (or uncorrupted Nightmare) and death comics are just made for a fun “what if” scenario exploration, they are not truly what happens nor will Nightmare actually lose his corruption, or get killed in the main timeline, hence, why none of them are linked in the timeline post (there’s the kitty post that shows uncorrupted Nightmare, but that’s simply a bonus sketch than something that actually happens)

Nightmare’s final fate is neither therapy nor death, but something in the middle, I have two ideas for how Nightmare’s end is going to be, but i’ve yet to decide on which one to go for, as of what these ideas are, I’d also love to keep them to myself till I make a comic for it, I will say however, that his end might be sad to some people, or extremely bittersweet to others >:)

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 20 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇Raphael-free chapter

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The Greek camp buzzed with activity, soldiers sharpening blades, tending to armor, and boasting about past conquests. Among them, Eurymachus and Cassander lounged near the edge of the training grounds, their conversation drifting into the usual topic that occupied restless warriors before battle, war prizes. Eurymachus leaned back on his elbows, the afternoon sun catching the golden strands of his hair. His green eyes gleamed with mischief as he smirked. “You know, after this fight, I think I’ll take a nice little trophy for myself. A fine Trojan girl, soft and sweet. Maybe one of those noble ones, they always have fire.”

Cassander, sitting cross legged beside him, chuckled, running a hand through his dark brown hair. His hazel eyes danced with amusement. “Oh? And what makes you think she won’t claw your eyes out the second you look away?”

Eurymachus laughed. “That’s half the fun, isn’t it?”

Cassander hummed in agreement, his gaze drifting toward the sky. “Personally, I’d prefer one with a little bite. The kind that fights before she folds. A challenge.” They both grinned, lost in their fantasies, until—

Smack!

Eurymachus yelped as the back of Antinous’ hand struck the back of his head. Cassander barely had time to flinch before receiving the same treatment, his head snapping forward as Antinous stood over them, arms crossed, expression unamused.

“Idiots,” Acrisios muttered, his violet eyes flashing with irritation. “We’re here to fight, not drool over women you’ll never have.”

Eurymachus rubbed the sore spot on his head, scowling. “Oh, come on, Acrisios—”

“Shut up,” he snapped. “Both of you. If you’ve got time to sit here and run your mouths like fools, you’ve got time to train.” He jabbed a finger toward the sparring pits. “Get up. Now.”

Cassander sighed, muttering something under his breath as he hauled himself to his feet. Eurymachus groaned but obeyed, shaking his head. “You really know how to kill the mood.”

He smirked, shoving him toward the training grounds. “The only thing getting killed is you if you keep slacking off. Now move.” As the two trudged toward the training grounds, grumbling, Acrisios sighed, rolling his shoulders. They were good fighters, but gods, they were idiots. He had no patience for their games. There were real battles to prepare for.

——

Druses moved like a specter through the training grounds, his long, wavy black hair damp with sweat, purple eyes sharp with focus. His blade carved through the air, the edge singing as it struck against the training post. Again. And again. Each movement was precise and relentless. The other soldiers gave him a wide berth. They had seen what he was capable of on the battlefield, how he fought not with discipline, but with something raw, something almost gleeful. They whispered of it in hushed tones.

He didn’t care.

A soft, echoing chuckle curled around him like smoke. Druses stilled, his blade lowering. The air thickened, charged with something beyond mortal comprehension. A presence pressed against his skin, dark and intoxicating, filling his lungs with the scent of blood and burning cities.

Then, she appeared.

Enyo, leaned lazily against a nearby post, her form shifting like a mirage. Her crimson lips curled into a grin, eyes glinting with the light of a thousand battlefields. Draped in armor that shimmered like fresh spilled blood, she looked at him as one would admire a favored beast of war.

“Oh, Druses,” she purred, crossing her arms. “You never disappoint me.”

Druses exhaled, his grip tightening around his sword. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

Enyo laughed, a sound that rang with the echoes of dying screams. “Of course I am. That slaughter you and Antinous led? Exquisite. I haven’t been that entertained in ages.” She tilted her head, golden earrings glinting. “The way you cut them down, the way the battlefield soaked in their blood… delicious.” Druses didn’t reply, but his lips twitched, barely suppressing a smirk.

Enyo stepped closer, tracing a finger along the flat of his blade, watching as the faint traces of dried blood flaked away. “And things are only getting better. More gods have chosen sides, drawn to this little war of yours. Athena, of course, stands with Telemachus. Ares has taken an interest in Antinous. Demeter has laid her blessings on that quiet one… Florus, was it?” She let out a soft hum. “The board is being set.”

Druses raised an eyebrow. “And which of them are against us?”

Enyo smirked. “Does it matter?” She turned, her eyes glowing with something ancient and hungry. “This war will be magnificent. It brings back nostalgia, really. It reminds me of Troy, of the rivers of blood, the screams that filled the night, the way even the gods themselves could not resist being drawn into the chaos.”

She sighed, almost wistfully, before turning back to him. “You will continue to impress me, won’t you, Druses?”

Druses met her gaze, the violet depths of his eyes dark and steady. “I don’t plan to stop.”

Enyo grinned. “Good.” And with a blink, she was gone, leaving only the lingering scent of war and the distant echoes of laughter. Druses rolled his shoulders, lifting his blade once more. If the gods were watching, then he would give them a show.

——

Florus knelt in the quiet of the grove, the golden light of dusk filtering through the trees, casting long shadows across the earth. The war drums had been relentless, their echoes stretching across the land, and though he had fought alongside his comrades without hesitation, doubt coiled in his chest like ivy strangling a tree. He exhaled slowly, pressing his palm to the cool soil beneath him. His fingers curled into the dirt, seeking the presence of the goddess who had blessed him, the one constant force in his life.

“Demeter,” he called softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need your guidance.”

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of ripe wheat and wildflowers, and suddenly, the grove felt fuller, warmer. A soft glow bloomed before him, and when he looked up, Demeter stood there, her form both familiar and otherworldly. hair tumbled over her shoulders, her emerald green eyes deep with knowing, a crown of wheat and vines woven into her locks. She radiated the quiet strength of the earth itself.

“My dear Florus,” she said, her voice like the rustling of leaves in autumn. “You call to me with a heavy heart.”

Florus lowered his gaze, his fingers still buried in the soil. “We are outnumbered, my lady. More gods have chosen sides, and it seems they do not favor us. I see warriors blessed by Athena, by Ares, by Enyo.” His jaw tightened. “Raphael’s forces are strong, and with each battle, it feels like we are fighting against the inevitable.”

Demeter stepped forward, kneeling before him. She reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek, grounding him. “The inevitable,” she mused. “A mortal fear, but not an absolute truth.”

Florus met her gaze, searching for answers. “How do we win against gods?”

Demeter smiled softly, tilting her head. “War is not only won with steel and blood. The land, the harvest, the people who live beyond the battlefield, all of it plays a role.” She gestured to the earth beneath them. “You are my chosen, Florus. Where others burn, you will grow. Where others destroy, you will preserve. War cannot last forever. Even Ares must lay down his sword when the fields must be sown again.”

Florus swallowed, his doubt still lingering. “But what if we fall before that day comes?”

Demeter’s expression darkened, her voice firm. “Then you must ensure something remains. A future, a hope. If war seeks only to take, then you must be the one who gives.” Florus exhaled, nodding slowly. The fear was still there, but so was something else, a quiet resolve, rooted deep like an ancient tree.

Demeter smiled once more, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead before she began to fade, her presence dissolving like morning mist. “Stand firm, my Florus,” she whispered. “Even the strongest warriors must one day kneel before the earth.” And then she was gone.

Florus remained there for a long time, his fingers still pressed into the soil, drawing strength from the land. Even in war, something had to grow.

——

Acrisios sat alone by the fire, his sword resting at his side, but his mind was far from the battlefield. The glow of the flames flickered across his face, casting long shadows as he turned a small carved pendant over in his fingers, a token Lethea had given him before he left. His chest ached with longing, a weight heavier than any armor he had ever worn. He closed his eyes and pictured her. Lethea, with her long, sleek black hair falling over her shoulders, her dark eyes filled with quiet strength. He imagined her standing in the doorway of their home, a hand resting gently on her growing belly, waiting for him.

He should have been there with her. He should have been the one tending to her needs, ensuring she was cared for, protecting her from any harm. But instead, he was here, caught in a war that seemed to stretch endlessly before him. A rustle of movement pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced up as Telemachus sat down beside him, the prince’s expression weary, his brow furrowed with the same weight Acrisios carried.

“You’re thinking about her again,” Telemachus said quietly, watching the pendant in Acrisios’ hands.

Acrisios let out a slow breath. “I can’t help it. She’s alone, and she’s—” His voice caught for a moment. “She’s carrying our child. I should be with her.”

Telemachus nodded, staring into the fire. “I understand.” His fingers curled into his palms. “Y/n is out there. With him.”

Acrisios didn’t need to ask who him was. Telemachus’ jaw tightened. “I know what Raphael is. What he does to her. And I can’t stop thinking about it. I try to focus on the war, on the next step, but—” He exhaled sharply. “She’s suffering, and I can’t do anything.”

Acrisios studied him for a moment before nodding. “That’s the worst part. Knowing they need us, knowing they might be afraid, in pain, alone, and we’re not there.” He clenched the pendant in his fist. “I would give anything to be with Lethea right now.”

Telemachus stared into the fire, his blue eyes dark and troubled. “And I would give anything to tear Raphael apart.” Silence stretched between them, the weight of their burdens settling heavily on their shoulders. But there was something unspoken between them, an understanding, a shared determination. They would fight. They would survive. And they would return to the ones waiting for them.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan @xo-cuteplosion-xo

@galaxygurlll @pjopinkk @h0ne4bee

@minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @yuvany

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience: ~Honey's three bitter days!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: Honey gets a cavity and it threatens to tear apart his relationship with Mori ➼ what to expect:  "Oh I thought we were being honest" ➼ warnings: none ➼ Part Eleven | Part Thirteen

"We may have to consider renting costumes for the sake of storage of them all." You mutter as you and Kyoya look over plans for the next month. Kyoya's face scrunched up at the idea. "Rent?"

"Do you want to put part of the budget to building an additional closet for all the costumes?" you raise an eyebrow, taking a sip of coffee. "Or is there another abandoned music room that I don't know about that we can occupy?"

"...I see your point"

"What? You idiots!" Tamaki's yelling from the other side fo the host club caught both of your attentions. "You're the ones who bumped into it, right?"

"Only because Haruhi was running away" "We were trying to catch her 'cause we wanted to have fun and dress up in cosplay"

"So what? We cosplay all the time!"

"We weren't going with the usual Host club costumes" "We want to see Haruhi in bunny cosplay, disguised as a girl"

You raise an eyebrow "Disguised as a girl?" you hold back a laugh at the look on Haruhi's face. "You'd like to see it, too, wouldn't you?" Tamaki turns more red by the second. "I'd definitely want to see that. What am I thinking? There's no time for stuff like that now! I know what you're up to. You're trying to distract me from the mess you've made! Get away from Haruhi you punks!"

"No way"

"let me go!"

"Excuse me. We don't have any guests at the moment, so I don't mind if you make a racket, but please, be careful. You don't want to wake Honey-Senpai" Kyoya leans over to inform them. Tamaki and the twins freeze up at the mention.

"He's a third year who still takes afternoon naps? Well, we're gonna have to tell him about the bunny at some point, let's just wake him up and apologize" Haruhi, rather cluelessly, approaches where honey is napping.

"No wait! Don't get any closer to honey-senpai! Come back, it's safe over here!" Tamaki and the twins call from the couch they are hiding behind "What are you talking about?"

"Honey-senpai wakes up in a very bad mood after napping. Now it may just be a rumor but the Haninozuka family once visited a US military base to give combat training. Supposedly, Honey-Senpai slept through most of it because of his jet lag. Then a soldier came in and carelessly tried to wake him up since he had been sleeping for so long. On that day, he wiped out two entire platoons of soldiers and not just any soldiers, green berets! And i've heard we've had diplomatic issues with America ever since that day"

"How terrifying"

"And we've got a bigger problem. Usa-Chan was hand-made for Honey-Senpai by his deceased grandmother you've seen the way he carries it around. That little bunny is his most prized possession. I can't imagine how he's going to react when he wakes up and sees that his precious Usa-chan is ruined!"

"He's gonna do to us what he did to those green berets!"

"You're exaggerating, it's impossible for that story to be true, i mean come on"

"It is, and there's other evidence that honey-senpai has an evil side to him, listen to this. his blood type is AB how about that"

"yeah so what?"

"But Haruhi, that mean's he's the same blood type as Kyoya"

Haruhi jumps back in shock, clearly convinced. the group slowly turning to face the two of you "What's the matter? Do you guys have a problem with my blood type?" you sit up "Hey I have AB blood type, what's wrong with that?"

Honey shifts in his sleep, distracting the rest of them "This is bad, we have to do something quick before he wakes up. Hikaru, kaoru" Tamaki snaps his fingers. The twins slide in "Sir!" They whisper, saluting.

"Go get your folks' cessna. Fly to Osorezan and bring back a medium, we'll channel his grandfather, and she can guide us through it. We can make a new Usa-chan for Honey-senpai! Here take this map of the Aomori prefecture with you and don't forget to bring back apple juice, apple jam and nebuta souvenir dolls"

"But we don't have that much time" "We're used to you crazy plans but you should come up with something more practical"

"Alright, how about this? We'll send usa-chan to the cleaners. haruhi! You're going to have to wear the bunny suit"

"yeah good idea boss!"

"Forget about it! I'm not wearing that stupid bunny suit! It's not gonna work he'll know it's me!"

"No he won't he won't be able to tell the difference if he's just waking up from a nap!"

"Well then why don't you wear it senpai!"

The two of them descended into a series of incoherant arguing. Clearly forgetting that Honey was asleep nearby, who was now waking up.

"He's awake! We'll have to use a substitute! We've got no choice!" Tamaki sneaks a stuffed bear onto the sofa where Honey was waking up, who as he finally becomes aware of his surroundings picks up the bear and throws the bear to the floor.

"No! Not my teddy bear!" "He's gonna come after us next!""He just spotted his bunny rabbit!"

Honey sleepily stumbled to the table where Usa-chan laid, picking up the tea soaked rabbit. "Who's responsible for this? Who got Usa-chan dirty"

The twins and Tamaki break out into screaming its "Someone, help. Mori-senpai, don't let him hurt us!"

"He wanted tea, so usa-chan decided to have a drink"

The club falls silent, holding their breaths in hopes the explanation worked.

"I see. So that's why his face is all dirty, isn't it? Hey do you think he wants some cake too?"

the boys fall to the ground with relief.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Honey's three bitter days!

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

"You can't keep eating nothing but sweets all the time. You know you're gonna end up with a cavity"

"Oh don't worry. I always brush my teeth" As honey bite into the piece of cake on his fork he freezes up, curling in on himself in pain,catching the attention of the entire host club. "Honey-senpai is it?"

"It's nothing, kay?"

"Let me just take a look in your mouth"

"Hole still" "Honey-senpai please quit squirming"

"There's nothing wrong! Quite messing with me! Leave me alone!"

A large shadow casts over Honey, causing him to look up with a gasp. Mori lunges forward, taking Honey’s hand in one of his own and gripping his chin in the other, pinning him to a nearby sofa in one quick motion, despite sounds of protest from Honey.

The guests around to watch all scream in unison, Renge among them. “Yes! That’s it, that’s it! That’s what was missing. It’s… moe~!”

She wiggles in anticipation behind them. Mori presses his fingers on either of Honey’s cheeks and prompts him to open his mouth. Honey allows his jaw to fall slack despite firm protest, and Mori catches sight of the cavity plaguing one of Honey’s molars.

Tamaki peeks over the sofa to get a look, “So, is it… a cavity?”

“Yeah,” Mori replies plainly.

“It’s alright. I’ll be okay.” Honey whimpers unconvincingly.

Mori turns to face the leader "Tamaki" he manages to somehow convey his entire point in one word "Yes, you're right i'll take care of this"

Tamaki stepsto face all the guests and the host club, clearing his throat "Until honey-senpai gets over his cavity I'm afraid he can't have sweets. Therefore, we'll be supportive and ask that you kindly refrain from eating snacks in the club room until this ordeal is over"

Honey starts to tear up "no! No, don't Takashi. Please don't take my snacks away, you can't, don't do it. What'll I do without them?" Mori picks up a nearby slice of cake, moving it away "I can handle it! Please don't take away my cake!"

"No more cake"

Honey falls to the floor whailing.

"And that’s how it all began. One little cavity, and suddenly Honey-Senpai’s life became a living hell.”

You and kyoya's heads fall to the side simultaneously as you watch the scene unfolding. "Well, that's our small clothing budget issue fixed-ow!" you elbow him in the ribs. "You were thinking the same thing"

"Yes but I wasn't going to say it out loud!"

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

As you are walking towards the host club you spot mori and a girl standing together in the hallway. You don't mean to eavesdrop, you really didn't. but there was no way to get through without interupting them so instead you hide behind a pillar.

"I just can't hide it any longer. I have to get this off my chest, i need to know what your feelings are towards me, and if you'll accept my love" Mori remains as stoic as ever.

"Will you, please? Unless of course, there's someone else. Please tell me. is there someone else who's dear to you?"

At the non-reply the girl sighs "There is isn't there? Huh I should've known" The girl runs off.

"You can come out now Y/n"

You awkwardly step out of your hiding place, you should have known that Mori would've picked up on your presence. "Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop- i just-"

Mori sighs, shaking his head. "You don't...have someone else...do you?" You ask, looking back to where the girl had ran off to. Mori looks back at you with a stern look. "Relax Mori-senpai, I am not the others, you can be honest with me and I won't jump into an insane scheme"

"No" You could tell from the look on his face that there was more to what he was saying. "But your heart is elsewhere anyway?"

You smile "You know Mori, you've been really vigilant on making sure Honey stays healthy" he remains silent, staring off in the distance. "Not all love has to be or is romantic" he still remains silent as expected.

"Perhaps, you feel that there is someone else that has your heart because someone else does, just not in a way that would make sense romantically, and that's okay" you give him a half hearted smile, starting to carry on down the hallway "Is that how you feel about Kyoya?"

You freeze at the question. "What?" you turn back to him "You love him, don't you? is that romantic love or something else?"

Your jaw hangs open, inhaling as you shake your head. Do you love kyoya? surely not, but....no- no of course not, that would be mad. "I- Kyoya and I are just- we...."

Mori's chin picked up "Oh I thought we were being honest" your face fell. "Mori!"

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Honey-Senpai’s 'get sweets’ strategy #1: Use the cute

With an adorable giggle, Honey prances toward Mori in nearly a slow-motion-like way, “Look, Takashi! My cavity is all better now!”

Unbothered, reading his novel, Mori sits at an empty table, one leg crossed over the other, “… you sure?”

“The swelling has even gone down!”

“… has it?”

“So~ Do you think I can have a piece of cake? Just one? Please?”

With a carefully calculated trajectory, Mori shoves a popsicle made of pure ice into Honey’s open mouth, resting against each and every one of his teeth.

Honey’s reaction proves his assertions otherwise- He gasps, yelps, and shivers, holding his swollen cheek with his hands and putting pressure on it.

Flourishing the popsicle, Mori strides away, unfazed, “You’re not fully recovered yet.”

Honey-Senpai’s 'get sweets’ strategy #2: The indirect method

Two unsuspecting guests enjoy their complimentary tea and finger sandwiches peacefully, unbothered. But, a threat soon makes itself known.

Honey hovers around them like a shark waiting to pounce, humming innocently, but his intentions indicate otherwise.

He turns and makes eye contact with them, to which they immediately avoid guiltily.

“What are you ladies drinking?” Honey waddles up to them.

“Um. Darjeeling tea, it’s really good!” The first guest cringes nervously.

“Yeah? What’re you going to have to eat?” Honey pries, getting closer and closer to his desired topic for conversation.

“Well… I was going to have a sandwich.” The second guest admits.

“Ahh. You know what you need? Some sweets! That tea would go well with something… sweet! Like, maybe some cake! C'mon, whaddya say?” Honey wiggles in anticipation, glancing back and forth between each guest.

One guest sighs, “Well… it would be good with cake…” She sighs.

“It sure would…” The first guest groans.

The girls exchange edgy looks, and they know what they must do.

A beat of silence passes, and they each stand up abruptly, slamming their cups of tea on their respective saucers in procession, and dash off in the opposite direction, each unwilling to face the confrontation.

“We’re so sorry, Honey!”

“But it’s for your own good!”

“B-b-but wait!” Honey reaches for them, teary-eyed. He hangs his head with a prominent pout.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Honey-Senpai’s 'get sweets’ strategy #3: Pulling at the heartstrings

You stand with perfectly straight posture, arms folded behind your back as you observe the club processions quietly, finally off duty for once.

You hear a deep sigh and glance to your side through your peripheral vision. You find Honey, trudging in your direction with his head hung shamefully, sulking.

“Honey-Senpai?” You glance at him. He lets his head fall onto your upper arm and grips your sleeve tightly.

“y/n-chan… am I a bad person?” Honey lifts his head, revealing his glistening eyes. You almost flinch, lips pressing into a thin line at his show of emotion.

“I just don’t understand why God hates me. What have I done?” He whimpers pathetically.

He has definitely succeeded in pulling harshly at your heartstrings. As a result, you feel your chest ache.

But, you have an escape plan- metaphorically hiding behind someone whose heartstrings are pulled taught enough that nearly no one can pull.

“Um… let me just… go… ask Kyoya something.” You laugh nervously, stepping away from Honey and scurrying toward Kyoya at the other end of the clubroom.

Honey should have known better- everyone knows you to retreat to your safe place when you feel put on the spot… and that happens to be, unfortunately for him at this moment, Kyoya. He sighs, knowing you’re never coming back to confer with him.

You reach Kyoya and grip his sleeve. He’s facing away from Honey, so you position yourself in front of him and peek at Honey from afar. Kyoya’s brows furrow, glancing over his shoulder. You quickly stop him.

“Shh! Don’t look back over there! Pretend you need me,” You whisper, pleading.

“What are you-”

“Honey-Senpai’s giving me the eyes for sweets… I can’t let him find my stash,” you whine.

“You have a stash?” For some reason, Kyoya’s not all that surprised.

“Just a few… sweets in my book bag.” You should have thought this through- you’ve left your bag at an empty table. And, if Honey had a sixth sense for sweets, he could find them easily.

Honey pouts as he watches you talk to Kyoya and glance at him every now and then. Finally, Kyoya catches Honey’s eyes and makes eye contact with him for a split second before turning back to you, pushing up his glasses and seemingly asking you a question.

Honey chose the wrong person with the right connections.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Honey had been broken down to menacingly pacing up and down the host club. The rest of you sat at a table nearby "He's gonna break"

"Would somebody please talk to him. He's scaring me" the door slams open, causing Hikaru to stand up "He's headed for the candy!"

"No need to worry, we emptied out all the sweets"

"Kyoya-senpai, you seem really chipper today"

"It's because he's won a debate on whether or not we should start renting costumes, that and because I stopped bringing my stash of candy to school" you muttered, not bothering to lift your cheek from the palm it was resting on.

Honey pulls out Tamaki's teddy bear, throwing it to the floor "Ah! he keeps doing that to my teddy bear!"

Honey falls to the floor "Well, there he goes"

"Three days and he gives up"

Tamaki slides over "Um, Honey-Senpai?"

Honey jumps to bite at Tamaki's arm "Ah! Somebody help me! He's eating my arm off!"

Mori stands up silently, walking over to him "Mitskuni, don't take this out on other people." Honey cuts out of it, letting go of Tamaki "You saved me, I thought I was a goner"

"It's disgraceful"

The word seemed to trigger Honey-Senpai "Takashi"

He throws him to the floor "You idiot! A little bit isn't gonna hurt me! You're so mean! You're such a hardhead! That's it I hate you! I hate you Takashi!" Honey runs off and out of the club room. "Hey, Mori-senpai" "That was harsh will you be alright?"

Mori stands up, stumbling about before falling to his knees, taking a table with him "Wow, senpai, it looks like he really got to you" "I don't know what's going on but it seems like you're self-destructing"

"Maybe honey-Senpai wouldn't hate you if you hadn't been so hard on him in the first place"

"It was on purpose" The realisation dawned on you that Mori may have misconstrued the conversation the two of you had in the corridor.

"hm?"

"Mori-Senpai, by any chance have you been acting like this because you're trying to get Honey-senpai to hate you?"

"Why would he do that?" "It makes no sense that would be like the end of the world for Mori-Senpai"

"Why would he do it on purpose?"

"Well maybe, because he was trying to punish himself....I'm right aren't I?"

"Yeah you are, this was my fault. Mitskuni has a cavity because I'm careless.twice before his Nap time I forgot to make him brush his teeth"

"But that's not really your responsibility. He should know better"

"But if Mitskuni has to get false teeth, it'll be my fault"

"Uh...don't worry that's not gonna happen"

"Wow what a pessimist"

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself right now if he hadn't thrown me down"

"Because he felt at fault, Mori-senpai wanted some sort of punishment from Honey-Senpai to make up for his failure"

"Well...while that certainly makes a nice story and everything" "It was just a little cavity, right?"

The door opens to reveal Honey and Tamaki "Well there you have it Honey-senpai. What will you do now?"

Honey wells up, running across the room wailing to get to Mori "i'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Takashi! I promise I won't forget to brush my teeth again! I won't forget!"

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

“A few days later, Honey-Senpai recovered from his painful cavity. So the host club decided to lift their ban on sweets, and Honey-Senpai can greedily stuff his face once more.”

Seated at a single table in the back corner, Kyoya clutches a group of receipts in one hand and a calculator in the other. Overwhelmed by numbers, he sighs, slouching in his chair defeatedly.

“What’s with Kyoya-Senpai? He looks depressed about something.” Haruhi observes.

“Honey-Senpai’s back to eating sweets; the prices of those snacks add up and can get overwhelming,”

"Here" you approach him with a piece of paper. He appears tense as he looks up at you "What's this?" he takes it from you. "I reworked the budget to account for Honey's sweet influx but without having to sacrifice the costumes"

"What?"

"I knew this was going to end eventually, and when it does Honey's sweet consumption was going to skyrocket. I thought I'd save you the headache"

"That's very...thoughtful...and efficient. Thank you"

"Well...it's our job isn't it?"

Kyoya tilts his chin up, and for a moment you could have sworn you saw the beginnings of a smile. "I suppose it is"

Next time on patience 'Y/N in wonderland!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372 @strawberrbitch @reticent-writer @eternal-dokja @meme848

[kianamaiart]

Just want to say you have the patience of a saint for answering the same questions over and over so politely 😭

it’s all good! i don’t have an faq or anything and tumblr’s hard to navigate sometimes

might make an faq soon though! but i will say i have an faq on my other blog and tbh it doesn’t help that much. i feel so passive aggressive when i just link it instead of answering the question (it’s a little passive aggressive hahaha)

[bloomzone]

lesson N2 | the 100 Lessons to Change Your Life

forgive yourself

Why are you so hard on yourself ml ? Please, take a moment to breathe. I know you carry so much weight in your heart, constantly questioning every little thing you do, replaying moments in your mind as if you're not enough. But please read this "you are enough". You always have been. u don't need to hold yourself to impossible standards. Mistakes? they are simply part of your life not the definition of who you are.You are allowed to make mistakes, just like everyone else. You are allowed to be imperfect, to stumble, to fall, and still rise again. It's okay. You don't have to be so hard on yourself. Please be gentle with your heart , sometimes we forget that the most important relationship we have is the one with ourselves. Treat yourself with the same love, understanding, and care you would give to a dear friend who’s feeling lost.Please, let go of that guilt you’ve been carrying for so long. It’s weighing you down, but you don’t have to carry it anymore. It’s okay to release it. Your mistakes are not failures they’re the lessons that have shaped you into the wonderful person you are becoming. You’ve learned, you’ve grown, and that’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of.Take a deep breath ml u deserve this moment of peace, this moment of forgiveness. You don’t need to have it all figured out, and that’s okay. Please let yourself off the hook. Be kind to yourself. There is no need to carry around guilt, regret, or self-doubt. You are worthy of love, of compassion, and of patience, especially from yourself.I know it’s hard to be kind to yourself sometimes, but please remember you are worthy of every ounce of love and understanding you give to others. Be kind to yourself as you would to the softest, gentlest cloud passing by. Let yourself rest, forgive yourself, and breathe deeply in the knowledge that you are already enough, just as you are. You are allowed to begin again, to forgive, to heal, and to move forward with a heart full of kindness and grace.

@bloomzone

[tearsaura]

In the woods, the monster awaits // Eris Vanserra x reader

Based on this comment by @astarionsdurge thank you so much for this prompt! I hope you like it.

picture is from pinterest: tanema3

Word count: 1.2k

The estate was much quieter nowadays. Visiting it served only two purposes: seeing my mother or following up on court business. It always felt cold, which is ironic since our power was quite the opposite.

My father’s office was the furthest away at the highest floor and even that didn’t seem far away enough from us. As I climbed up the stairs and entered his space a few moments later, the familiar smell of his cologne hit me and it made my skin crawl.

“We must check in with y/l/n. The magic on our borders is wearing of. There has been an increase on beasts in the woods and if they get any closer, they’ll feast on the village by noon and on us by the evening.” Beron said without looking up from his papers as I stepped closer to his desk.

Well hello to you too father!

Yes, I am doing alright thank you for asking!

Our army shrinks with every day that passes but you already knew that and you refuse to do anything about it! What will you do when there are none left, even for you?

How are you feeling? Any chance that you step down and free this court from its misery?

My father, the high lord of the autumn court, summoned me at dawn to complain, like he usually did. He did take me by surprise that he decided to do something about it instead of delegating it to someone else. Maybe the thoughts of being a meal for some beasts did worry him.

“Shall I meet up with him today?”

“No, I already scheduled to meet up and I want you to accompany me, I need to have a word with him first but after that it is going to be your problem.” He said, raising from his chair.

With other words, he wanted the people from the village to think that he does care about them. That’s what he usually does: Goes to the poorer villages occasionally, act as if he cares, promises them that he works something out to help them but never actually does it. He wordlessly walked out, his guards trailing after him. I sighed, counted to ten, and went after them.

The horse ride to the boarders went quietly thankfully. I tuned out my fathers talking and took in the lands. The autumn court was beautiful, especially the forest. We reached the said place at the border shortly, and nobody was there. I got off my horse and gave him something to eat before joining my father, who was already seething. It was astonishing, how short his patience ran.

“This is unacceptable. Where is the old man?” Beron complained as he dismounted his horse, walking further into the woods.

Please dear mother, let this man get lost in there and never come back.

“This is a forest, he probably needs some time to find us because it looks all, you know, the same.” I claimed, walking after him whilst keeping my distance.

“I am the high lord of the autumn court! I do not have the time or the nerve to wait on some old Witcher to find his way to the place I ordered him to get to on time. He’s a Witcher don’t they sense people?”

“We don’t. We only sense the magic, or well, the lack of it.” A feminine voice called and as I turned around, I was sure that reality had left me. The unknown woman came towards us, my father taking a few steps back as his guards stepped in front of him.

She nearly made me drop to my knees. There were no words on this world that would do right in describing how beautiful she was. No music could come close to the sound of her voice. Without thinking, I stepped closer to her.

The woman raised up her hands in surrender. “No need to draw weapons. I am not here to harm you, high lord. My father sends me: y/l/n, the old Witcher?” she said, a coy smile graced her red lips. Of course, I personally hadn’t seen her father but her signature light grey, almost white, eyes gave her away as a family member of the witches.

“Why didn’t he come himself? I specifically told him that he should come. One would think that the order of the High lord where to take-” “He went to another weak spot. Sadly, this area isn’t our only problem. It took me a while to find you because the magic is missing in multiple places.”

I swallowed. One leakage was bad, but manageable. Multiple where a bad sign. Something was wrong.

“So, what can we do about it?” I asked, her eyes now fixating on me. They looked just like the sky during autumns stormy afternoons. Very hard to look away from, pulling me deeper into this trance.

“You are?”

“Eris. Eris Vanserra.” She continued to look at me, her head tilting slightly. She had a mole right over her upper lip on the left side.

“My oldest son.” I hadn’t even realised that my father had stepped closer too. “He will take over this matter and you’ll correspond directly to him. Unfortunately, I must go. Court affairs.” He said, before he went to his horse, his guards trailing after him.

She waited for a few moments, watching my father and his guards leaving and as they became a small figure in the distance, her attention turned back to me.

“I feel sorry for lady autumn. It must be tiring to listen to this man for even a second, I fear.”

“You have no idea.” I replied and she gave me another smile. She had dimples.

“So, my father and I are working on resurrecting the old magic that was used. But it is many centuries old and all the tomes we have need to be translated first. We will work with lesser magic until we have it but that would only last days or weeks at most. For the time being I would stay here to make sure that everything is alright.” She said, stemming her hands on her hips as she observed.

She smelled divine. Oranges with a hint of vanilla. He wanted to wrap her scent around him for the rest of his life.

“The Forrest house isn’t far from here. You can stay there.” I blurted, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh, that is quite all right I thought about bringing a tent-” “A tent? Absolutely not. You are saving your people with your work. The least I can do is make sure that you have an actual roof over your head.” I said, stepping closer to her. She bit her lip, as she looked up to me, the confidence from before replaced with sudden shyness.

“Thank you, Eris.”

Eris. That’s what did it. I suddenly felt the thin golden thread pulling me towards her and my breath hitched.

Mate.

Must protect her, must keep her safe.

I found my mate. I took everything in me not to blurt it right out.

“Of course.” I whispered, before I held out my arm to her hoping that she didn’t notice it trembling.

“I’ll bring you there.”

[jazeswhbhaven]

omg ya'll so....😭

this is totally on me btw, but if anyone remembers I was asked last year in November to ask about Ark Academy and I emailed PB which at first I thought they didn't reply to me and for whatever reason in my inbox I'm JUST NOW finding out they did email me the end of November last year......this is what they had to say btw:

Hello this is Prettybusy. We first wish to thank you for your patience while waiting for our reply.

Ark Academy is being developed by a separate team. However, due to the small size of the team, the development progress is a bit slower, so there are limitations on the amount of information we can share at the moment. According to the team's internal discussions, the goal is to bring you some new updates by the end of this year.

Thank you so much for your interest in Ark Academy. If you have any other questions, feel free to contact us anytime!

So since this was dated Nov.28th of last year this means since we didn't get any updates about it they didn't meet their goal which sounds like it's to be expected with the smaller team that's working on Ark Academy. However this also has me wondering if that's why there's so much down time between chapters. Because not only were they working on the 13+ version, there is another team working on Ark Academy at the same time while they have to pump out stuff for us on WHB....

It's probably lookin' like we're getting a new chapter for WHB every 5+ months at this rate based on this amount of workload.

[truefandemonium]

Haha I have no patience had to get this second part out. Enjoy! 🫰✨ @i-think-youre-a-work-of-art @heavenlyraindrops

********************************

Princess and the Pills (pt 2/?)

Thanos x Fem!reader, angst, fluff, cuddling, literal sleeping together, slow burn, drug use, language, violence (its squid game come on) { pt. 1 }

*✨*✨*✨*

Sleep calls to you, it feels like from beyond a grave waiting for your body to finally lie down and shut your eyes forever.

But you settle for Thanos’s bunk as he beckons with an exaggerated wave, jogging the last few steps to meet you. “Hey, jagiya,” he greets you, his brows bouncing above his pitch black eyes. He’s still riding high on his last dose.

“… Am I still welcome with you guys?” you ask, full of angst that you know is spilling out and looking like a weakness to every other player here.

Thanos’ jaw drops. “Are you fucking JOKING?” he barks, making you wince. “Hell yeah!” He pumps one fist in the air and cheers, “Princess in the palace now, bitches! Woo!” He grabs your hand and tugs you after him, letting go to crawl into the bed and kick Nam-gyu hard in the spine.

“Ow, shit,” the younger man hisses, whirling. “What was that for?”

“Princess gets the bed,” Thanos growls, and the way they face off reminds you of two junkyard dogs fighting over scraps. “Off.”

Nam-gyu bristles before shoving off with a huff, settling back down on the steps and glowering at you as you replace him on the mattress. Across from Thanos, you sit with your knees up to your chest, mirroring his stance.

Something seems odd about him after he settles in, his eyes falling to a space far away and over your shoulder, gaze unfocused and honed in at the same time. His lips part slightly, his chest rising and falling a little too fast to be normal, and Nam-gyu finally pokes his arm, asking, “Hey bro, you good?”

Thanos doesn’t look at him, a heaviness in his eyes that makes you feel sick as he brushes the touch away. “M’fine,” he grunts, his fingers coming up to wipe at the dried blood littering his face.

“You sure?” Nam-gyu asks, his eyes wide and worried.

“Uh huh,” Thanos hums, his gaze falling again. Concern grips you, and you risk getting a bit closer, crawling over to reach him. He seems to finally break out of his stupor at your proximity, confusion clouding his face until you sit at his side and lean into his warmth, and the expression changes to pure surprise.

You’re thankful he doesn’t make a move on you, just content to sit together, the bliss of simple human contact in a cold, cold, terrifying world.

You fall asleep there, wondering what the next game will be. And which one of you will die first.

…

You awake before anyone else, to an incessant nuzzling against your neck, and you tense, eyes opening slowly and fearfully. But rather than what you expected, like the barrel of a gun or someone’s cold hand ready to choke you— you shift your head to blink down at the mop of purple hair tickling your chin.

Thanos has tucked his face into the crook of your neck at some point during the night, one arm slung over your torso as he snores softly against your skin. You suck in a careful breath, afraid that any movement may scare him off. Why let him stay here? I should boot him out of the bunk for his audacity…

But you don’t. You don’t want to. Instead, you stay perfectly still and close your eyes again, breathing slow and letting yourself bask in the warmth this man offers.

Until he snorts suddenly, a gentle little sound that leaves a huff of warm breath beneath your ear and he lifts his head lazily at the sound of music and the bright lights flashing on.

You pretend to be asleep, keeping still and eyes closed as he pulls his head back from your skin, retreating back from your body and removing his arm from your chest.

You don’t see the way his eyes well with longing before they flash with guilt, gaze lingering on your parted lips and sleeping form. The way his painted fingers hover for a moment over the soft rising and falling of your belly with each breath, the temptation to hold you starting to make him shake.

You stretch, then, opening your eyes again and Thanos turns quickly away, rubbing his face hard as Nam-gyu falls out of the bunk above you.

With a wail, he lands on his hip on the steps, back arching painfully as he lies there for a few seconds, Thanos bursting into raucous laughter.

“Fuck, bro! You okay?” he cackles as Nam-gyu moans.

You roll your eyes, not quite as concerned as you probably should be for your now so-called ‘teammate’, and scoot to the edge of the bunk, still trying to calm your heart from the earlier scare of finding Thanos nestled atop you.

Speaking of… you glance over to see him looking at Nam-gyu with a smirk, blinking sleep from his sparkly eyes and scratching at his neck, fingers dragging over the tattoo that disappears under his tracksuit.

You tamp down the warmth bubbling in your chest at the residual sensation of his arm across your body— the weight so palpable in your mind you can almost feel it if you close your eyes and try. But you don’t. You won’t.

“What happened?” you ask the man still lying on the metal steps, his body now curled in on itself.

“Mmph— fuck off,” Nam-gyu mewls, and Thanos kicks him lightly in the butt, his brows pulling down as his lips purse.

“Hey, Princess asked you a question, dick-head, chill out,” he grits out, and Nam-gyu sits up to cower away from Thanos’ foot.

“Whatever,” the boy scoffs, his tired face set in a scowl. “I move a lot when I sleep, bitch, they should have guard rails on these things.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh in disbelief. “They do.”

Thanos and Nam-gyu simultaneously look up to see you’re in fact correct, and Thanos practically screams, “You DUMBASS!”

“Just shut up,” Nam-gyu mutters, hiding his face in his sleeve-covered hands. You yield, but not before sharing a look of amusement with Thanos that makes you blush.

That morning you get no meal, only left to fend for yourself (sit around) until you’re summoned by the prophet (that psycho 456) with new orders and warnings for the upcoming game.

“Pick triangle?” Thanos is scoffing, his eyes clouded in a way that makes your skin prickle with unease. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Dalgona,” 456 repeats in a growl, his brow furrowed and gaze dark as he catches Thanos’ comment. “It’s going to be hard no matter what, but triangle is the easiest shape, I promise.”

Thanos shifts his weight from foot to foot, clearing his throat hard and not meeting your eye as he crosses his arms. You narrow your eyes in confusion and move until you’re in front of him.

“Hey, what’s up?” you ask him discreetly, not missing the way Nam-gyu sidles up to listen in.

Thanos sniffs, jutting his chin upward, his eyes flicking hesitantly to yours and away again as if he’s afraid you’ll see something there if you look for too long.

“Nothin’,” he lies blatantly, the fear obvious in his clenched fists hidden under his arms. “Just sounds like a stupid shit game.”

“What?” Nam-gyu chuckles, approaching from behind and brushing his arm against Thanos, who pulls away. “Never had dalgona before?” He wrinkles his nose in a way that makes you want to punch it, and you hope that his fall from the top bunk left a mark.

Thanos growls, lip curling as he bares his teeth like a dog and whirls. “No, and so fucking what?” Thanos hisses, uncrossing his arms to shove Nam-gyu hard in the forehead with two fingers. “Babies suck on dalgona, bitch.”

Nam-gyu glares, blinking rapidly and backing up. “Fuck, I was just asking, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Thanos says with a shake of his head.

You step a little closer and watch Thanos’s eyes widen, falling first on your body and then your face, his pale cheeks suddenly dusted in a soft pink. “Hey,” you whisper, shooting a glower so dark in Nam-gyu’s direction he takes another step back. “Don’t worry about this, you’re gonna do fine. A lot of kids never had dalgona…”

He

It’s a lie and you know it— it’s such an age old tradition you’re thoroughly shocked that he’s never tried it. Thanos just clenches his jaw, eyes flickering fearfully, something deep in his gaze that tells you it’s been there for a long, long time.

“Yeah, my dad never let me play it with my friends,” he says, grimacing as if it’s more of an annoying memory than a tragic one. “Dumb drunk said it’d kill me, he didn’t even want it in the house.” His eyes narrow as he jerks a finger at 456. “Talked like this guy, too. Come home after drinking to tell us they were watchin’ him, ‘put bugs in his head.’” Thanos snorts and shakes his head again, closing his eyes gently for a second and making your stomach twist. “Crazy bastard.”

You feel a twinge of something — a wondering that lingers for a second before flitting away.

As you’re all led to the next game, Thanos’ hand finds your tracksuit pants pocket, finger slipping inside to cling as the two of you walk side by side up the narrow stairway. It’s a small comfort; knowing he’s there. Knowing that if he goes down, you will too.

[bilbob963]

Hi everyone, I’m back after a depressing month or so of having a blank mind. seriously all the motivation and creativity just disappeared over Night again so I do apologise for not posting, anywho…

The patience has Been rubbing off because this took me a week and god I love my knew styler, I’m actually proud of myself for putting the time in…

Sooo…I’m a funnybunny addict. Love there relationship and how it really is. The love hate type, so different but yet the same but I also have an unhealthy steamy vision of them in anime/ manga version. Were he’s a man full of lust with the incredible looks and a smile that is so bad boy but yet not trusting and she is a small petite lady with a body to die and is absolutely beautiful but cute and her heart is pure. He’s so protective and possessive and can be very jealous but loving and she can be sweet and caring yet she has a small fuse that makes her all the more cuter n so on n on ya get it. Not going into detail but god they’re my therapy duo. Yeah, I’m a weirdo, I have several love duos on my list them being one of… god I’m said…I need friends 😂😒

Anywho, this one’s for Valentine’s Day, tried to keep it appropriate and not too much TMI! And not as cringy ish…but I hope you like.

If not just please scroll by, people can knock others confidence down with so many words that people question things they shouldn’t have to. Just be you and fuck what others think✌️

[muiitoloko]

A Scoundrel’s Devotion

Summary: George has always taken what he wanted, but when his wife gives him her love freely, he finds himself at a loss—because for the first time, he wants to be worthy of it.

Pairing: Sheriff of Nottingham × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Dirty language.

Author's Notes: I think I made the sheriff very comical, and I don't know if that's good or bad.

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

You stepped through the door, closing it behind you with a soft click. The journey back from the market had been uneventful, save for the strange whispers that reached your ears the moment you passed through the castle gates. Servants murmured in hushed tones, their faces alight with barely concealed amusement and concern. The words "Sheriff... attacked Sir Guy... with a spoon?" floated through the corridors, leaving you to wonder just what kind of chaos your husband had caused in your absence.

And now, as you stood in your shared chambers, you found the source of the commotion sprawled across the bed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

George lay on his back, his long black hair spilling over the pillow, his tunic half undone as though he had barely made the effort to dress properly. His heavy black cloak lay discarded on the floor, a clear sign of his utter disregard for tidiness. One arm was thrown over his forehead in mock exhaustion, the other resting lazily on his stomach.

You exhaled sharply, bending down to retrieve the cloak, folding it with deliberate care. "So," you began, your voice laced with exasperation. "Care to explain why the entire castle is talking about you attempting to murder Sir Guy?"

George barely cracked an eye open, his lips twitching into a smug smirk. "Because he deserved it," he muttered, his voice thick with self-satisfaction. "Filthy bastard is lucky I didn’t gut him where he stood."

You placed the folded cloak on the chair by the hearth, your patience thinning. "George," you pressed, arms crossing over your chest, "what did he do this time?"

At that, George rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His hazel eyes darkened with fury, his black beard framing a scowl that promised impending doom. "He dared to insult you," he hissed, as though the very words burned his tongue. "He called you ugly. Ugly. As if I would allow such blasphemy to go unpunished."

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, but before you could respond, he sat up abruptly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His fists clenched against the mattress as he glared at the floor, nostrils flaring. "I will kill him," he growled. "I will make him bleed. He will beg for death before I’m through with him!"

You sighed, tilting your head in exhausted disbelief. "Oh, will you?"

George snapped his gaze up to meet yours, his anger momentarily pausing at the unimpressed expression on your face.

"George, are you planning to kill yourself, too?" you asked, voice deceptively light.

He blinked, thrown off. "What?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You heard me. If you’re going to kill Sir Guy for calling me ugly, will you also punish yourself for every cruel word you’ve ever thrown my way?" You took a step closer, eyes narrowing. "Shall I bring a blade, so you can start flaying yourself?"

George’s mouth opened, then closed. His brow furrowed. He genuinely seemed bewildered by your logic.

"But—that’s—" He shook his head, his long black hair falling into his face. "I thought you had forgiven me!"

"I have," you said simply, shrugging. "Just as I forgave Sir Guy."

George’s hands clenched into fists, his entire body vibrating with frustration. "It’s not the same!" he barked. "I— I am sorry! I have changed! I do everything for you now! You are the only woman I take to my bed, the only woman I desire!" He surged to his feet, closing the distance between you in three swift strides, his voice dropping into a deep, desperate growl.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the entire kingdom, my wife, my woman." His large hands gripped your waist, his touch burning through the layers of fabric. "I have given you freedoms that no other woman has, let you walk amongst the people like a queen—"

"But Sir Guy is not sorry," you countered, your hands pressing against his chest in defiance. "And that’s the real issue here, isn’t it? It’s not about my honor. It’s about yours."

George’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening.

"You can’t stand the fact that another man dared to insult what belongs to you," you whispered, challenging him.

His nostrils flared as his grip on you tightened possessively. "Damn right, I can’t." His voice dropped into that dangerous, wicked baritone, the one that always sent shivers racing down your spine. "I can’t stand the thought of anyone looking at you with anything less than worship."

"Then perhaps you should have started with yourself," you shot back, refusing to yield.

George’s breath hitched, his entire frame tensing. For the first time in a long time, you saw it—the flicker of guilt in his hazel eyes.

George stood there, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his hazel eyes burning with a mixture of frustration, regret, and something deeper—something he couldn’t name. His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just been in battle.

"I have changed for you," he said again, but his voice was weak this time, almost pleading. "But you… you don’t see it."

He turned on his heel, his long black hair whipping over his shoulder as he stormed toward the door.

"George," you called, a slight waver in your voice.

But he didn’t stop.

You took a step forward, as if to follow, but then hesitated. Perhaps it was the weight of the argument, the exhaustion of years of tension, or maybe you just knew that this time, he needed to be alone.

So you let him go.

George stormed down the twisting stone staircases of Nottingham Castle, his boots slamming against the cold floor with each step. His anger, his humiliation, his wretched love for you burned inside him like a fever. He kicked a passing rat, sending the creature squeaking down the hall. A particularly fat frog hopped across his path—he kicked that too, grumbling as it plopped into a puddle.

"Bloody rodents. Bloody frogs. Bloody wife."

At last, he reached the dungeon’s lower depths, where the air was thick with the stench of damp stone, rotting straw, and whatever hellish concoction Mortianna was brewing in her ever-bubbling cauldron.

The old witch stood over the cauldron, her long white hair hanging in tangled strands around her wrinkled face. One eye—milky and blind—stared into nothingness, while the other, sharp and brown, flicked toward George as he entered.

She did not greet him. She rarely did. Instead, she continued stirring whatever foul potion she was brewing, muttering in some forgotten tongue.

George sighed dramatically and threw himself into a dark corner of the room, his back against the damp stone wall. He pulled at the fabric of his tunic absentmindedly, a habit he had never quite outgrown, something he had done as a boy when sulking.

Mortianna, without turning around, finally spoke.

"Something troubles you, my lord?"

George scoffed, resting his head against the cold stone. "Only everything."

She nodded sagely, adding a pinch of something suspiciously wriggling into the bubbling cauldron. "A woman, then."

George groaned. "How do you always know?"

Mortianna let out a raspy chuckle, tapping the side of her nose knowingly. "Because, dear boy, lately you only come here when it’s about her."

George growled under his breath. "I love her, Mortianna. I love her like a madman. And yet… she sees me as the villain! As if I have not changed!"

Mortianna finally turned to face him fully, the dim candlelight casting grotesque shadows across her wrinkled features. She studied him for a moment before clicking her tongue.

"You are too soft," she muttered, shaking her head. "You let a woman—a woman with a scar, no less—hold such power over you? Ridiculous. Get rid of her. Take another wife. A younger one. A prettier one."

George shot to his feet, his fury immediate. "No!"

Mortianna barely flinched, only raising one thin eyebrow.

"I don’t want another," George snapped, pacing in a circle, his hands gesturing wildly. "I want her! It is her I love!"

Mortianna let out a long, heavy sigh, as if dealing with a particularly dense child.

George stopped pacing, raking his fingers through his long black hair. His chest ached. His hands trembled. And then—humiliatingly—his eyes burned.

"Oh, for the love of—"

He barely had time to compose himself before tears began rolling down his face.

Mortianna took a step back, crossing her arms. "Oh, not this again."

But George was already full of self-pity, collapsing onto the floor in a graceless heap, dragging the fabric of his tunic over his face.

"I’ve tried everything," he wailed, his voice muffled. "I changed for her. I stopped sleeping with prostitutes. I eat meals with utensils now. I even bathe regularly, Mortianna! BATHE! Do you know how much work that is?!"

Mortianna, completely unimpressed, rolled her one working eye.

"And yet," George continued, sniffing loudly, "nothing is ever enough!"

He let out a shuddering breath, pulling his knees up to his chest like a great sulking beast. "She loathes me," he muttered. "She says she forgives me, but she still looks at me as if I am the man I was before. She still thinks I—Oh Gods, Mortianna, what do I do?"

Mortianna sighed again, rubbing her temples. "First, you stop this pathetic display."

But George didn’t hear her. His sobs only grew louder. His nose was running now, his breathing uneven and sniffly.

Mortianna watched him for a long moment, clearly disgusted. Finally, she shuffled forward, reaching out to awkwardly pat his shoulder, as one might do when attempting to console a particularly oversized toddler.

"There, there," she said dryly. "Become a man."

George ignored her, still sniffling. Then, in a motion so quick she barely had time to react—he reached for the edge of her tattered dress.

Mortianna’s milky eye twitched.

"George," she warned.

But it was too late.

George, the terrifying, ruthless Sheriff of Nottingham, the scourge of England, the man who once threatened to carve out a man’s heart with a spoon, promptly buried his face in her skirts and blew his nose.

"OH, FOR THE LOVE OF—!"

Mortianna yanked her dress away from him with a look of sheer horror, staring down at the wet and now slightly green patch of fabric.

George, meanwhile, sat back on his heels, looking considerably less miserable as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his tunic.

"There we go," he muttered, sniffling. "That’s a bit better."

Mortianna gaped at him. "You… you absolute filthy—!"

George ignored her, already standing up, stretching his arms above his head. "I suppose I should go," he mused, sighing dramatically. "I have an apology to make. Again."

Mortianna, still seething, glared at him. "You are a grown man."

George grinned, grabbing a rag from the table and wiping his nose one last time before tossing it directly into the cauldron.

The liquid inside immediately turned an alarming shade of green.

Mortianna let out an inhuman shriek.

George, cackling like a devil, sprinted for the door, dodging a wooden spoon Mortianna hurled at his head.

"GEORGE, YOU FOUL, DISGUSTING, UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BASTARD—!"

He was already halfway up the stairs, laughing breathlessly.

Yes, he had an apology to make.

But first—he had to find a clean tunic.

He had snot on this one.

Dinner was always a private affair now.

You sat at the grand dining table, waiting patiently as the castle’s many torches flickered, casting shadows against the towering stone walls. The air smelled of roasted lamb, freshly baked bread, and the faintest trace of something spicy—cloves, perhaps. The table was set meticulously, goblets of deep red wine reflecting the candlelight, platters brimming with decadent foods.

And yet, your appetite was tempered by anticipation.

Because George was late.

Not that this was unusual. Your husband, for all his newfound devotion, had a flair for the dramatic, a need to make an entrance even in his own home.

And when he finally appeared, you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

George strode in like a monarch surveying his court, his long black hair still damp from his bath, curling slightly at the ends. He had donned yet another of his absurdly extravagant robes—this one an even deeper shade of black, lined with velvet and adorned with golden embroidery so intricate it looked as though it had been stolen from the king’s own wardrobe. The attached cape, more theatrical than ever, billowed behind him as he walked, catching the air like a storm rolling through the hall.

You sighed.

“Another robe, George?”

He smirked, flourishing the cape dramatically as he approached. “You wound me, my love. A man of my stature cannot simply wear the same thing twice. What would the people think?”

“They’d think their taxes could be better spent,” you muttered dryly, motioning for the servants to bring dinner as soon as George sat down.

He did so with a flourish, settling into his seat with all the grace of a lounging predator. The moment the food was laid before you, George dismissed the servants with a flick of his wrist, as he always did now. Private dinners had become your routine—a tradition he had instilled with unwavering insistence.

The moment the last servant disappeared, you reached up, removing your veil and setting it aside. The cool air brushed against your skin, but before you could begin eating, George reached out, catching your hand.

His fingers, rough yet warm, curled around yours.

You paused, looking up at him. His hazel eyes—so often filled with mischief, cruelty, or amusement—were now softer.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant. “For today. For yesterday. For… before.” He swallowed. “I know I can’t undo the past, but I need you to know—I’m trying to be better.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “You’ve changed with me, George. But you’re still mean to others.”

His lips twitched, as if resisting the urge to smirk. “It’s in my nature, love.”

“Then change.”

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “And how would you like me to do that, exactly?”

You considered your words carefully, then took a breath. “I saw a starving mother today. She held a baby in her arms, wrapped in rags. They had nothing, George. No food. No shelter.”

His jaw tightened. He released your hand with a sigh, reclining further into his chair as if bracing for an argument.

You ignored the gesture, pushing forward. “We need to build a shelter for these people. A place where they can have a roof over their heads, warm food in their stomachs—”

George abruptly reached for his knife, cutting into the roasted lamb before him.

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m not ignoring you, sweetheart,” he said, voice infuriatingly smooth as he took a bite. “I’m simply feeding myself before I’m forced into another one of your little projects.”

You folded your arms. “What would you do if you were in her place?”

He chewed slowly, his eyes flicking to yours. “If I were a starving mother?”

“If you had no home. No food. No help.”

George snorted, setting his knife down. “That’s a ridiculous question.”

“Is it?” You leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “You claim to have changed, George. But if it were me—if I were that woman—what would you do?”

He scoffed, but there was an edge to it. “First of all, none of my children would ever be on the streets.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because they would have me,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “No child of mine would ever go hungry. No wife of mine would ever live in rags.”

You raised a brow. “But not everyone has a Sheriff of Nottingham to protect them, George.”

He exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re predictable,” you countered, tilting your head. “You know I’m right.”

George groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “What exactly do you want from me, woman?”

You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “I want you to prove you’ve changed. Build the shelter. Feed the hungry. Show your people that you can do more than steal from them.”

George looked at you, his hazel eyes searching yours for a long moment. And then—

He smirked.

A slow, wicked thing.

“You just love making me suffer, don’t you?” His voice dropped into that familiar, velvety growl. “Tell me, my sweet wife—does it arouse you? The thought of bending me to your will?”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Does it matter?”

His grin widened. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

George sighed, shaking his head dramatically. “I suppose I must. You leave me with no choice.”

You smirked. “You could resist me, you know.”

He laughed darkly, eyes gleaming. “Darling, resisting you is a battle I never wish to win.”

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, pulling you forward just enough that his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“But you will owe me for this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “And I intend to collect.”

You swallowed. “Is that so?”

His teeth grazed your earlobe. “Oh, yes.”

You exhaled sharply, your body betraying you, pressing closer. But before you could say anything, George leaned back, resuming his meal with an infuriating smirk.

You glared at him. “You’re impossible.”

He winked. “And yet, you adore me.”

You huffed, shaking your head. But you couldn’t help the small, satisfied smile that played at your lips.

Because you had won.

And George, for all his theatrics, for all his cruelty and dramatics, couldn’t resist you.

Two months had passed since that dinner, and George had followed through on his word—grudgingly, dramatically, and with frequent complaints about how much he was suffering for your sake.

The shelter was well underway.

True to his promise, he had bought a plot of land on the outskirts of Nottinghamshire, one that had once been an abandoned, rat-infested ruin, now slowly transforming into something worthy of its purpose. He had hired the best architect in the region—who had promptly quit after George threw a spoon at him for "suggesting that a window should be slightly to the left"—and replaced him with another who had been sufficiently terrified into compliance.

George, of course, had taken full credit for the progress, puffing out his chest whenever the townspeople murmured in admiration.

"And who, might I ask," he had declared just the other week, standing atop a wooden platform in the middle of the construction site, "is the man responsible for this act of sheer generosity?"

The townspeople, who had learned by now that answering incorrectly led to immediate taxation, had chorused: "YOU, SHERIFF!"

He had smirked, preening like a cat in the sun. "That's right."

You, standing off to the side with your arms crossed, had merely raised an eyebrow. "Really, George?"

He had turned to you, grinning. "Oh, my love, I adore how suspicious you are of my virtue. It's almost endearing."

You had rolled your eyes but said nothing. Because, despite the dramatics, despite the insufferable preening and self-congratulatory nonsense—George had done this. He had spent hours overseeing every detail, ensuring that no corrupt official could siphon funds, that the workers were fed and paid fairly, that the stone used was sturdy enough to last for generations.

And now, as you sat beside him in the carriage on your way to inspect the site again, you found yourself watching him with something dangerously close to admiration.

He was leaning back lazily, his long black hair unbound and wild from the wind, his cloak draped over his broad shoulders. His black beard was neatly trimmed, though his hooked nose and sharp cheekbones still gave him the air of a villain, the kind of man who would sell someone’s soul for a particularly well-aged bottle of wine.

He caught you staring.

"What?" he smirked, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "Falling for me all over again, sweetheart?"

You scoffed. "Hardly."

"Liar," he purred, shifting closer, his knee pressing against yours. "You've been watching me like a lovesick maid since we left the castle."

You huffed, turning your gaze out the window. "You're delusional."

George chuckled, the sound low and indulgent. "And yet," he murmured, reaching over to trace a slow, teasing finger along the bare skin of your wrist, "you're trembling, my love."

You stiffened.

He smirked, his fingers continuing their lazy exploration, skimming along the inside of your palm, down to the delicate pulse at the base of your wrist. "Shall I remind you, wife, of just how thoroughly you belong to me?"

Your breath hitched.

George leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Say the word, and I'll have this carriage turned around. We won't leave that bed until you're screaming my name."

Your thighs clenched involuntarily.

Damn him.

With great effort, you composed yourself, pulling your hand away as you fixed him with a withering glare. "I think the people of Nottingham would be very disappointed if their oh-so-generous Sheriff abandoned his precious project for such… selfish desires."

George exhaled sharply, tilting his head as he studied you. Then, slowly—deliberately—he dragged his gaze down your body, taking in the way your breathing had quickened, the way your fingers trembled slightly where they rested in your lap.

"You can lie to yourself, sweetheart," he murmured, voice dark with promise. "But you can't lie to me."

You swallowed hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

The people of Nottinghamshire greeted you both with warmth as your carriage rolled through the bustling streets. You waved at the crowd with a soft smile, your veil fluttering gently in the breeze. George watched you out of the corner of his eye, admiring the way you carried yourself—graceful, composed, regal in your own quiet way.

He thought you looked particularly beautiful today.

A part of him wished you would drop the veil, let him see you fully, without that cursed fabric acting as a barrier. But he said nothing. He had learned by now that some wounds took longer to heal, that patience was a virtue he was still mastering.

So instead, he simply enjoyed the comfortable silence between you, watching as your gaze remained fixed on the people outside, oblivious to his staring.

Then, you turned to him with a sudden thought. “After we inspect the site, can we stop by the market? I’d like to buy Emily a toy.”

George blinked, briefly thrown off by the shift in topic. Then, his lips twitched into a smirk. “Already spoiling the child, are we?”

You rolled your eyes, though there was a small smile playing at your lips. “She reminds me of… well, me. When I was little.”

George tilted his head, studying you. He knew how much you doted on the maid’s daughter, how you slipped her sweets when no one was looking, how you always remembered to bring her something whenever you went to the market.

He also knew—deep down—that you longed for a child of your own.

The thought lingered in his mind, a realization settling within him like a slow-burning fire. Before, the idea of children had always been tied to duty. That was why, in the beginning—when he despised you, when he saw you as nothing more than a political pawn—he had still taken you to bed. It had been about securing an heir, about ensuring his legacy.

But now?

Now, the thought of having a child was no longer about duty.

Now, when he imagined it, he saw you—sitting by the fire, knitting tiny garments with that same focused determination you had when crafting Emily’s doll. He imagined a little girl with your eyes, or a boy with your quiet strength, sitting on his knee as he read them stories (dramatically, of course). He imagined you—soft and glowing, a child resting against you, loved and wanted.

The idea no longer felt like an obligation.

It felt like something he wanted.

George cleared his throat, forcing the thought aside before it could unsettle him further. “Fine,” he relented, feigning exasperation. “We’ll buy the brat a toy.”

You beamed at him, and God help him, he felt something in his chest tighten.

Before he could dwell on it, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the construction site.

George stepped out first, sweeping his cloak over one shoulder as he extended a hand to help you down. You took it without hesitation, your fingers curling around his. He smirked slightly at the sight—he liked the way your smaller hand fit into his, liked that you reached for him without hesitation now.

The architect was already waiting for you both, an older man with thinning hair and a permanently nervous disposition (likely due to the incident with the first architect and the spoon).

“My lord, my lady,” the architect greeted with a low bow. “We’ve made considerable progress since your last visit.”

George nodded, clasping his hands behind his back in an appropriately sheriff-like manner. “Well, I should hope so. If I’m going to be a saint of the people, I expect results.”

You shot him a look.

The architect coughed nervously before gesturing toward the half-constructed building. “As you can see, the foundation is complete. This will be the main hall where meals will be served. We have planned separate quarters for families on this side, and individual rooms for those in need of temporary shelter over here.”

George watched as you inspected the design, nodding thoughtfully as you took everything in. He could see the way you envisioned it already—how your mind was putting everything together, piece by piece.

“I’d like to have a small garden here,” you said after a moment, pointing to an open patch of land beside the structure. “Somewhere people can grow herbs, vegetables. A way for them to sustain themselves, even in small ways.”

George arched a brow, glancing at the architect. “Make it happen.”

The man nodded quickly, scribbling notes on his parchment.

As the architect continued his explanation, George found himself less interested in the details of where the chimney should go and more fascinated by you—by the way you bit your lip in thought, the way you gestured as you spoke, the way you had so seamlessly stepped into this role of leadership.

He still remembered the first time he saw you—veiled, silent, hesitant. The woman before him now? She was someone entirely different.

And he liked it.

“Once the shelter is completed,” George mused aloud, breaking the conversation, “I’ll need you to start drawing up new plans.”

The architect blinked in confusion. “For what, my lord?”

George waved a hand toward the future shelter. “This is just the beginning. We’ll need a school next.”

Silence fell over the group.

You turned to him sharply, eyes widening. “A school?”

George smirked, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.

“Think about it, love,” he said, tilting his head. “What good is a full stomach if one’s mind remains empty? We can’t have a bunch of uneducated brats running about Nottinghamshire. Might as well give them some schooling so they don’t all grow up to be idiots.”

The architect looked utterly gobsmacked.

You, however, were watching him with something else entirely in your gaze.

“George,” you said, your voice softer this time. “You would really do that?”

George shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Well, if I’m going to be a reformed man—” he interrupted himself.

The moment your veil fell away, caught in the breeze as it drifted to the ground, George's world seemed to slow.

You had never done this before. Never removed it so openly, so deliberately, in front of others. It had always been a shield, a fortress between you and the world. Between you and him.

And now, you had cast it aside.

Before he could fully process the significance of it, you grabbed him by the collar of his absurdly expensive, dramatically embroidered robe and pulled him down into a kiss.

It wasn’t a hesitant kiss. It wasn’t soft or demure.

It was searing.

The kind of kiss that made him feel as if the entire world had been swept out from under his feet.

George, despite his usual flair for theatrics, was caught completely off guard.

There was no hiding behind fabric, no carefully orchestrated distance. There was only you, your lips pressing against his, your hands clutching at the front of his tunic as if he was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

And then—finally—his instincts caught up.

He kissed you back, with every ounce of passion he had been bottling up for months. His hands grasped at your waist, fingers tightening as he pulled you flush against him, deepening the kiss with a desperation he hadn’t even realized he possessed.

The architect, caught in the unfortunate position of being a witness to this spectacle, quickly turned away, rubbing at his temples as if contemplating the meaning of his existence.

George couldn’t care less.

You were kissing him, here, in front of everyone, without shame, without hesitation. And then—just as he thought he had finally regained control of the situation—you pulled away, just enough to whisper something against his lips that shattered the very foundation of his world.

“I love you.”

George froze.

His mind went utterly blank.

His hands, still gripping your waist, trembled.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you—really look at you. As if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard.

You had never said those words before.

Not once.

Not in the entire miserable history of your marriage.

But you were saying them now, your eyes burning with something raw and genuine, your lips parted as if waiting for him to respond.

And George—who had always been a master of words, a man of dramatic declarations and cutting wit—found himself utterly, incomprehensibly speechless.

“I—” He choked on the word, swallowed, tried again. “You—”

For the first time in his life, George, Sheriff of Nottingham, feared that he might actually faint.

Because, surely, this was a hallucination. A fever dream brought on by too much wine and not enough sleep. You could not have just said that. You could not have just—

“George,” you whispered, smiling softly. “Did you hear me?”

His heart was pounding so violently he was half-convinced it might burst from his chest.

“I… I heard you,” he finally managed, his voice hoarse, breathless.

You arched an eyebrow, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his tunic. “And?”

George, completely beside himself, did the only thing he could think to do.

He grabbed your face—scar and all—and kissed you so fiercely that your knees nearly buckled beneath you.

The architect made a noise of protest, but George paid him no mind.

He kissed you until he was certain that you could taste every ounce of his devotion, his desperation, his absolute, undying love for you.

And then, pulling away just enough to press his forehead against yours, he exhaled shakily, his voice raw with emotion.

“You ridiculous, impossible woman,” he murmured, his hands tightening around you as if terrified you might disappear. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done to me?”

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers over his jaw. “I imagine I’ve given you an aneurysm.”

“Correct,” he growled, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I have spent months—months—waiting for you to say something, anything about your feelings for me, and then you just throw it at me like—like—” He gestured wildly, voice rising in dramatic outrage. “Like a casual remark?!”

You smiled, amused by his theatrics. “Would you have preferred I declared it from the castle walls?”

“YES!” he barked, then paused, blinking. “Wait. No. Actually, yes. That would have been preferable.” He grinned suddenly, eyes gleaming with mischief. “In fact, I demand it. Right now. You will climb to the highest tower and—”

You rolled your eyes, cutting him off with another kiss.

It worked immediately.

George, ever the insufferable romantic, melted like butter, his earlier indignation vanishing as he deepened the kiss with renewed fervor.

The architect, long-suffering and utterly exasperated, cleared his throat loudly.

“Perhaps, my lord, you might save your affections for a more private setting?” he suggested, pinching the bridge of his nose.

George, looking thoroughly unrepentant, smirked. “Ah, but you see, my dear architect—” He pulled you against him once more, nipping teasingly at your lower lip before flashing a smug grin. “—this is what happens when you fall madly, hopelessly in love with your wife.”

You flushed at his words, but George only beamed, practically preening in satisfaction.

The architect sighed deeply, clearly questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment.

“Shall we continue discussing the shelter, or would you prefer I leave you two to, ah, celebrate your newfound affections?”

George, ever the dramatic menace, actually seemed to consider it.

You, however, nudged him hard in the ribs. “Behave.”

He pouted but relented, turning back to the architect with a long-suffering sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.”

And so the discussion resumed.

But George, for all his newfound philanthropy, was hopelessly distracted.

Because you had said it.

You had finally said it.

And now, there was absolutely nothing stopping him from making it his life’s mission to ensure that you never regretted it.

The scent of fresh bread, roasting meat, and fragrant herbs mingled with the crisp autumn air as you and George strolled leisurely through Nottingham’s bustling market. The cobblestone streets were alive with activity—merchants haggled, children weaved between stalls, and the chatter of townsfolk filled the air.

For once, George was in an exceptional mood. Not only had he basked in your public declaration of love earlier, but he had also discovered something truly unexpected—being nice was astonishingly profitable.

"Another gift?" George smirked as the baker’s wife pressed a bundle of warm gingerbread into your hands. “Darling, at this rate, we won’t have to buy supplies for weeks.”

You cast him a knowing look. “You do realize this is because the people actually like us now?”

George scoffed. “No, they like you. I am simply basking in the benefits of your saintly presence.”

You shook your head in amusement, placing the bundle of gingerbread on top of the already considerable pile of gifts George had been forced to carry. Fresh apples, a fine wool scarf, a bundle of herbs—items freely given with kind smiles and murmurs of gratitude.

George, for all his complaints, wasn’t truly displeased. In fact, he was rather enjoying this new role of “beloved” Sheriff. The perks were undeniable—free food, admiration, and the absolute best part: you.

His attention briefly drifted as you continued browsing, oblivious to the young man making his way towards you, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his hands. George immediately narrowed his hazel eyes, his grip tightening on the gifts he held.

The man’s intent was obvious—to present you with the flowers. The nerve of him.

As the man drew closer, George bared his teeth in a slow, menacing snarl.

The poor fool hesitated.

George’s scowl deepened.

The man’s resolve wavered.

Then, wisely, the young man turned on his heel and fled, the bouquet still in his grip.

George smirked in satisfaction before turning back to you, still blissfully unaware as you examined the finely crafted dolls on display at a nearby stall.

A woman approached, handing you a small bundle of lavender. “For you, my lady,” she said with a smile.

George watched as you thanked her, slipping the lavender into the crook of your arm. His smirk widened. Yes, this was the life. If he had known that being benevolent would be so profitable, he might have started sooner.

Just as he was reveling in his newfound “philanthropy,” George felt an insistent tug at his cloak.

He glanced over his shoulder, then down.

A small girl, no older than six, stood at his feet, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his cloak as she gazed up at him with large, solemn eyes.

George blinked, his expression immediately turning into one of mild horror. What in the blazes did she want?

He tried to shake his cloak free, but the child remained steadfast, unperturbed by his obvious distaste.

“What,” he muttered, peering down at her as if she were an inconvenience. “Do you want?”

Without a word, the little girl lifted her small hand, revealing a single daisy.

George frowned.

A flower? For him?

He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t poisoned, is it?”

The girl just blinked up at him, uncomprehending.

George sighed, rubbing his temple. “Listen, child, I don’t know what you expect me to—” Before he could finish, you turned and noticed the interaction.

Your lips curled into a warm smile as you knelt beside the little girl. “What a lovely flower,” you murmured, reaching out to accept it. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it?”

The child shook her head and pointed at George.

George, utterly baffled, stared between the two of you. “What? Why me?”

You giggled, brushing your fingers over the petals before tucking the flower into George’s lapel. “Because she wanted to give it to you.”

George exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath. His fingers briefly touched the daisy, as if assessing its worth, before quickly withdrawing as though burned.

As he attempted to regain his composure, you took the gingerbread bundle from the pile of gifts he was carrying and handed it to the girl. “Here,” you said softly. “For you.”

The little girl’s eyes widened with delight as she took the gingerbread, clutching it to her chest before turning and dashing off.

George watched, his gaze lingering on the gingerbread as it disappeared into the crowd. He sighed dramatically. “I was going to eat that.”

You patted his arm sympathetically. “Yes, but she needed it more.”

George grumbled under his breath, adjusting his now slightly lighter load of gifts. “If people keep giving you things and you keep giving them away, we’ll be right back where we started.”

You only laughed, slipping your arm through his. “Then you’ll just have to carry more.” George sighed heavily but made no move to untangle himself from you.

As the two of you resumed your stroll through the market, George caught sight of the flower still tucked into his lapel. He huffed, plucking it free.

Then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he tucked it behind your ear.

Your eyes widened slightly, but before you could say anything, George smirked and pressed a swift kiss to your cheek. “Let’s go, love,” he murmured. “Before more peasants decide they adore us.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, but as you walked on, you reached up to gently touch the flower, a small smile lingering on your lips.

And George—grumpy, dramatic, ruthless George—allowed himself to be led, carrying your gifts, basking in your warmth, and wondering, perhaps being a better man wasn’t so terrible after all.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Logan howlett being gross please 🙏🙏

I so badly wanted to answer this all day but I was busy so thanks for your patience!! I may end up writing an actual drabble of him being nasty BUT since it's 10 and I need to be up by 5 am tomorrow I'm gonna give some headcanons out to keep you freaks (lovingly)(im a freak too otherwise i wouldn't be writing this) satisfied. Love you guys <3

if there's anything specific you want me to talk about, feel free to send an ask!

(logan judging me for putting his nastiness out there)

NSFW stuff under the cut. Beware. some of it's gross. :)

Lets start with what I said in that one post

Yes, Logan would fuck himself in every part of you if you let him

personally not big on anal myself but if you guys are down for that, he would definitely like to try it.

I think it's less of getting himself off or being attracted to it, like your elbow or knees

its more of being able to claim you more ways than one, his animalistic instinct REALLY kicks in on this. Scents probably play a part on this

IF you let him do the things he wants, you're gonna get treated SO GOOD afterwards, believe me. Satisfying his urges in the weird ways he gets em? You're an actual fucking angel to him

I've mentioned foot jobs before. I think honestly the foot job is probably what started this whole thing. It's a body part he never considered getting off from. It's until you guys were in your bedroom, hes walking around naked fresh from the shower and you get playful, reaching your feet out and messing with his cock. He was surprised how hard it made him and then when he cums he's like... "Now what else can I get off on?"

I almost mentioned scents. Logans so big on scents yall we established this. You smelling like him, him smelling like you.

When you're a little more settled in your relationship, he may start making comments on how good you smell after workouts, sex, etc. Its the pheromones man

You don't think much until you catch him straight up inhaling your workout clothes one day

He's a bit flustered over it

claims he didn't know what he was doing (he did) and that he was just getting ready to do laundry (he was not) (he went straight to your laundry with the goal of smelling that shit)

PANTY SNIFFER

Loves your panties and bras the most. Definitely will keep your used panties here and there. he does it discreetly, confidently. He's not so ashamed for you to find him sniffing your panties.

Nasty making out. big fan of this

he wants you both practically drooling into each other. can and will spit in your mouth and wants you to do the same

will make out with you with his cum in your mouth. He doesn't like his cum it's just the fact of it's you mixed with him.

He'll love it if you have each others essence and make out like that too.

It's not every time but sometimes he'll just get these urges to make you both messy as hell. spit and cum, hickeys, scratches etc etc

I've also said this before but period sex period sex period sex

He does not fucking care

Makes him a lil wild actually. Might scare you a bit.

If you initially don't want to do it, he'll leave it alone and eventually get needy enough he'll find excuses and then he founds out sex can help relieve periods and he's like

"I'm just tryna make you feel better baby"

When you finally give in his ecstatic

he will def be careful though. He truly doesn't want to hurt you. He's just a needy lil thing for you

Eating. you. out on your period.

I know, it's gross. But so is he.

The first happens on accident. He tastes it while eating you out and immediately recognizes it. he doesn't stop and doesn't tell you

You realize it when he finishes and looks up and his face is covered in blood

quite frankly you're horrified

he didn't care. just goes and washes himself up and you as well.

You're gonna need to change the sheets though. Logans a messy eater

He will eat and drink food from your mouth

you're telling him "oh Lo! Try this pie its SO good-" as you put the fork in your mouth and you're about to give him a piece and feed it to him and he insteads grabs you by the back of your neck and sticks his tongue in your mouth and tastes it that way

It shocks you (and turns you on)

"Yeah baby, it is good." he chuckles as he smacks his lips and walks away leaving you dumbfounded and a bit horny

(you're just like)

will get so nasty about fucking you too like the dirty talking

"Your pussy so fucking tight and wet. Sucking me in and everything."

"You fucking love how I taste don't you? All that cum and sweat. dirty girl."

"my cum tastes good in you baby"

"cmon, taste how good you are darling"

Ive mentioned about him going into a trance after he cums on you

he's cummed inside you and now staring at it leaks out of you

he's pushing it back in and trying to keep it all in you

doesn't even hear you whining over it

he starts spreading it all over you. it just looks so good painted on your pretty pussy

like i said this man adores you and that means ALL of you

will drool during sex

you're just going at it and you guys hit a point where your mindless and fucking

you feel so good and he can't even think straight. acting purely on instinct and you feel his drool on your back. You look back and his mouth is hanging open and his eyes shut and he's thrusting into you over and over, completely contorted in pleasure

lets talk a little about some other stuff

logan keeps up his hygiene of course. brushes teeth. washes his ass. he may consider himself an animal but he's not gonna let himself go. he IS from the 1800s yknow

but he runs like a heater and can and will sweat

esp with all those fucking layers

sweaty dick and balls. nuff said. hope you enjoy that

his natural musk is strong as hell. honestly though to you it'll smell really really good

leaks a lot of precum when he's horny.

his hairs insane though. So much hair. Its' gonna get in your mouth

actually even if hes groomed it's still gonna get in your mouth. he has a lot of hair

Enjoy nasty logan! <3