#i wouldn't turn this angst... would i?????

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖

╰┈➤ ❝ dawnbreaker!zayne x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 (backlog)

tags : pwp (with some plot), kinda porn with feelings, ambiguous relationship, that one "dawnbreaker slipping into dr. zayne's life" theory, angst (but…soft???), slight nipple play, needy/desperate sex, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, praise, use of "my love". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.8k

an : YELLS OK im like two days late on this… but… BUT !!! a belated birthday gift for my beloveddddd @dawnbreakersgaze !!! <333

taglist : under the cut !! (SIGN UP HERE)

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

The Zayne you know has not been the Zayne you know...

You don't fall in love with someone in the span of a few days.

It didn't work that way—love was a fickle emotion; complicated, unpredictable… Terrifying. To approach it meant silent steps. It meant biding your time, holding out your hand, moving forward little by little…

…Ideally.

But love was powerful.

Love did whatever it wanted.

Love could take you in like a storm while you were unprepared; love could crash through your windows and hold you hostage despite your attempts to be gentle with it.

Love could turn the tables.

And sometimes that was what it felt like to be with him.

You wouldn't fall in love with someone in the span of just a few days—but perhaps, this case was a special one.

Your eyes were soft, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. Gentle caresses moved over his skin, and you could see the way he melted under your touch. His own eyes were wide, lips trembling. An inexplicable emotion stirred within the depths of his gaze… And it was always like this.

It was always like this when he looked at you.

As if he could never believe that you were real.

"Zayne," you murmured.

He would swallow thickly, and give the slightest of nods.

"Zayne."

The same name, the same face, the same voice. Yet this Zayne, lying on top of you, caging your body between his arms… he was not the same.

Not the same… yet similar, nonetheless. A reflection of the other, you would think. He barely spoke, yet he barely looked away from you. He felt more expressive of his thoughts, but all the same time adamant on keeping them hidden. And no matter how many times you'd seen him, he felt hesitant, unsure, guilty… yet so, so, so full of the very same love that the Zayne you knew would always give.

You'd lost track of how many times this had happened.

They were sporadic, at first—moments fleeting and spaced apart, where you had learned to separate your Zayne and the other Zayne through the smallest mannerisms you'd notice to be different.

You watched the man before you draw in a sharp breath as your hand trailed down his face and over his neck, his collarbone… Such visceral reactions. He looked weak before you; so… broken. Every time he showed himself to you, there was a tense, unspoken sense of longing that hung in the air.

He was not your Zayne.

But he would reach out all the same to mirror your actions, run the pads of his fingers through your hair and down the side of your face… and you would let him.

He was not your Zayne, but he wanted to be. And seeing you in front of him made him feel so fragile. That look in his eyes told you that he could shatter at any possible moment.

"…It's okay."

Love was powerful, you thought.

He was not your Zayne, but he was still Zayne, after all.

You knew so little about him, but he was still Zayne. And if love was so powerful—then it could fix him, too. Couldn't it? Couldn't a little bit of gentleness… Couldn't a little bit of love… for him, as much as him—

Couldn't that help?

"…My love…"

Whenever he spoke, his words were short. It was hardly the matter-of-factness you were used to, hardly the witty quips and dry sarcasm that could parallel. This Zayne's words were short, his voice hoarse, and rough—as if speaking hurt him even more, as if speaking could drive him further into a puddle of guilt that he seemed to have dug himself into.

Your eyes closed.

"Zayne, it's okay," you murmured. "It's okay."

His touch grew bolder, dipping downwards, slowly pulling down the straps of your top, curling around the swell of your breasts.

Your breath hitched.

"Zayne."

He didn't speak again.

Instead, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. He didn't kiss you, almost felt as if he was holding his breath— something small, and wet, fell upon your cheek.

Your eyes opened.

Can I have you?

He asked the question silently, stray tears rolling down his face as he looked at you. His hips pressed into yours, and the outline of his erection grinded against you.

Can I have you?

He didn't speak, but his eyes told you everything.

"Yes."

Just this once.

And the whine he let out brought a slight thrill through your body.

It didn't take long before his lips were all over you, kissing you, tasting you, claiming you—down your chest to your abdomen, inhaling the scent of your skin, before proceeding to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses back upwards. All the while, his hands remained steady on either side of your body, both a sure sign of his hesitance as much as the hunger within him that had him trembling above you.

When his eyes met yours once more, he has his mouth hovering over your nipple. Slowly, slowly, he wrapped his lips around it—it was so tender, the way he sucked on it, loving, the way his tongue would swirl as he took as much of your flesh as he could. Heavy breathing mixed in with the sloppy noises of his ministrations, and you were arching into him, begging him, encouraging him.

One more pull at your nipple until it slipped away from his lips with a wet pop, trails of saliva connecting to your bud.

"Pre...tty…" he rasped.

You felt your heart soar; for the first time, he seemed happy.

And this time it was you who didn't speak.

You reached for his hand, leaving his balance to rest momentarily on the other as you trailed it down your body. Further, and further, and further… His hand rest over your mound, gentle petting movements gliding a finger over your folds.

"Mmm…"

As usual, even the softest touch had you melting.

Zayne had always been loving , and tender, and sweet with you…

This Zayne was not your Zayne, but even the careful way he treated your body felt very much like it.

He was not your Zayne. But he was still Zayne.

A mantra you would repeat to yourself.

His movements continued, gathering up your slick and spreading them all over your folds, eyes retained on your face and your expressions.

Are you feeling good? he seemed to ask, and you smiled softly.

"Very good," you whispered.

Look… I'm so wet for you.

Though you didn't say it, you saw the way his eyes traveled down to your cunt, finger raising as if to look in awe at the sticky mess you had made for yourself.

"…Beautiful."

He spoke again.

And this time, there was little to no hesitation left in his actions before he was in you, cock nestled so warmly, so perfectly, so deeply into your core.

The intrusion had you drawing in a sharp breath no matter how used to his size you would think you'd gotten, but before you could react, he had pulled you into a tight, almost possessive embrace.

"Please," he choked. You could feel his tears wetting your skin as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. "Please… just this once… Just for the last time, just… Please…"

You clenched your walls around him, legs wrapping around his waist.

Slowly, you brought your hands up to stroke his hair.

"Zayne," you murmured. "You're still Zayne, right?"

"… Not—"

"Mine. I know. You're the Zayne in his dreams. Aren't you?"

You felt him nuzzle into your neck with a certain desperation, a whimper tearing from his throat.

It was answer enough.

Yet you moved your hips, grinding against him, urging him to claim you more, claim you deeper.

"It's okay," you repeated, softly, "you can move."

Zayne was still Zayne. You had made the choice from the start.

You wouldn't fall in love with someone in the span of just a few days—but it had taken only a few couple of meetings, barely lasting hours, barely lasting minutes.

Zayne was still Zayne.

You would love everything of him.

Your hips continued to move, bucking upwards onto his, cherishing the groans he would make into your skin. It was you who set the pace—a silent voice of permission, of pleading…

And he followed suit.

"My love…"

He began to thrust.

"…My love…"

Harder, faster.

"My love."

You gasped as he pulled away from you, panting harshly, driving his length in and out of you—desperate. Desperate.

"M- mm—!" you moaned out, arching your back. "Zayne… Zayne!"

"Can I… Can I?" he groaned above you, eyes shut in pleasure. He didn't stop—didn't want to stop. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin proved every bit of desire he had for you, if the image above you was not proof enough. "Please, my love…"

You held him tightly.

"Yes," you gasped. "Take me… You can have all of me, fill me up, cum inside, please—"

You mewled at a particularly sharp thrust, and your legs tightened around his waist. He was throbbing, his movements jerking erratically as you spoke your words.

"Fill… f-fill?" his eyes were wide, but he continued.

It gave you joy to know you were affecting him like this.

It's exactly the same…

"Yes, Zayne. You can give it to me. Please, please, I need it… Need it inside…" You begged, and clawed at his back, and moved to his thrusts the best that you could. "Inside, inside—!"

Please, please, please.

He whimpered as you tightened around him, urging him to spill, urging you to stuff you full like you wanted him to. His breathing became ragged, eyes nearly glazing over with pleasure at the mere thought of it.

He could claim you like this.

Even if it's not the real him, even if he's not doing this as himself—

You could see all manner of thoughts flash in his eyes as his gaze became hungrier. More desperate. More… resolved.

"I'll f-fill you up," he grunted. "Pump you… s-s-so full of me… All of me— My love, my love, my love—"

You cried out as he buried himself all the way into you, your hips colliding as hot, thick ropes of his cum painted your insides. Your body shuddered, slick trickling out of you and dripping down onto the sheets. You felt warm all felt; almost sore, your cunt pulsing around him as you tried to steady your breaths.

He collapsed against you, pulling you in for a kiss.

"If I can have you…" he breathed, "even just once… even just once, I… I'm happy…"

I'm happy.

Your eyes shone as you cradled his face, daring to place a small flurry of kisses over his cheek.

I'm happy.

This was all you wanted.

Love was powerful, you thought. And of you loved him—if you loved all of him, then everything would be okay. You wanted to believe that.

Perhaps in a fit overwhelmed by your acceptance, he gasped, and you felt him roll his hips in place—

You didn't stop him.

He could do this as many times as he needed, as much as he was here with you.

an : actually crying bc im hoping i did him justice why is zayne always so hard to write omlll

taglist! @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @ononpetitecroissant @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @rafayelsgf @spotted-salamander @love-and-deepstrays @oharasmommymilkers00 @rafslvr @keioxo @theanbitchless

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[xo-hoon]

25 Days Later — p.sh

Continuation of 25 Days Later

pairing: ethical serial dater!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, fake to real relationship trope

synopsis: For Park Sunghoon, relationships should remain uncomplicated. With life already filled with complexities, he believes that dating should only last for twenty-five days—just enough time to enjoy each other's company before parting ways. And there’s Yoon Y/n, who was driven by her curiosity rather than romance, finds herself intrigued by Sunghoon's unconventional plan, prompting her to join him for these twenty-five days. Yet, beneath their playful interactions, an unpredictable tension hints that things may not be as simple as they appear.

word count: 4k

warnings: EXTREME FLUFF! hoon’s a sweet heart (i’m goona cry), mentions of accidents, someone died, hoon being jealous, very very very slight angst. Grammatical and typographical errors ahead!

a/n: It’s finally done! I had a lot of troubles writing this fanfic and experienced many, MANY (MANY) breakdowns throughout the process, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

I really really hope that ya’ll would enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. 🫶🏻

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS WOULD BE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

here you go, bae @zara2318 🧎🏻‍♀️

Day 25

If Jake and the others were to see him now, they'd probably laugh. He was hardly recognizable as the Park Sunghoon they knew. The old him wouldn't have bothered chasing after a woman who clearly didn't want him anymore. But he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't that simple for you to break things off.

Fine, maybe he was being arrogant. But you had shared something special with him.

Why would you do that if he meant nothing to you?

No, he refused to believe that what happened between you two was just a fleeting moment brought on by the storm.

And you weren't the type to take such a bold step without good reason. You weren't someone who'd make such a move lightly. He couldn't accept that he was just a passing fascination, a curiosity you explored only to move on to the next person. No, it wasn't that shallow.

Alright, maybe it was just his pride speaking, but he wasn't ready to let go. Not yet.

Today, he planned to convince you to give things another chance.

He just hoped you'd agree.

His brow furrowed as he spotted a black sedan parked in front of your house. Slowly, he pulled up beside the unfamiliar car and got out.

Just then, he saw you coming out, laughing with Jiwon, who was following behind. Your smile faded the moment you noticed him, and for a brief second, silence filled the air.

"Hey, man," Jiwon finally broke the tension. "How's it going?"

Fuck off.

He could've said that. But he didn't and just glanced at him briefly and gave him a nod, and then looked back at you.

"Are you heading somewhere?" he asked, despite his racing heart.

"I'm just walking Jiwon to his car."

Sunghoon nodded. "I'll wait for you."

"Ah, I actually have a client waiting on the other side," you explained, referring to the funeral home.

Your voice and gaze pleaded with him.

"Just a quick chat. Five minutes maximum, please,”Sunghoon urged, watching as you considered.

"Alright," you finally agreed. "I'll just walk Jiwon to his car."

"Catch you later, man," Jiwon said, giving a friendly nod.

Sunghoon didn't go inside. Instead, he waited by the door, observing your interaction with Jiwon. He couldn't hear what you were saying, but he saw you laugh at something, and a pang of jealousy hit him.

Why was it so hard for him to see you happy with someone else?

His fists clenched and his jaw tightened when he saw Jiwon give you a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek before getting into his car. You stood there, watching as he drove off. Sunghoon took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knew he had no right to feel jealous and needed to get his emotions under control.

You turned to him at last. "Let's go inside," you said, leading him in.

"I thought we already cleared things up yesterday?" Your face was expressionless, the opposite of how you'd looked while talking to Jiwon, and that irritated him even more.

"So, is he the one you're replacing me with?" he asked, his voice tense.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And you knowing the answer to that question is important because?"

Sunghoon swallowed hard. "Y/n, I want another chance." You raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. "I believe what we had was something special. You're definitely not like the other girls I've dated."

You crossed your arms. "And?"

"And you said you appreciated honesty. If you're truly being honest with yourself, you’d recognize that what we had was unique."

"Can you just get to the point?" you said, your impatience showing as you glanced at your watch. "I have a client waiting."

Under different circumstances, you might have laughed at the idea of your so called ‘client’ really waiting for you as if it would grow frustrated when you took too long. But he seemed anxious about it and his words spilled out. "I want another shot. Another twenty-five days with you." You paused, staring at him, before letting out a soft, humorless laugh, your eyes starting to water.

"You really are a hopeless case, Park Sunghoon." You looked down, discreetly wiping your eyes. "Just go home. I need to get back to work."

He reached out to grab your hand, trying to stop you from leaving. "Wait, you haven’t given me your answer yet."

"Seriously?" You rubbed your face in exasperation, then you locked eyes with him, tears welling up. "No, Sunghoon. My answer is no. And please, stop coming back here." You stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

You were still feeling down while working on the body of a forty-two-year-old woman who had died from bone cancer. She had implants in her breasts and buttocks that needed to be removed, making the task labor-intensive, which was fine with you. You preferred to stay busy at that moment rather than let your mind wander back to Sunghoon. You were irritated enough as it was.

You sang along to an Ariana Grande song while your hands were busy dressing the body in a white gown.

"Leave that, Y/n," your mother said as she entered the preparation room. It seemed she was going to take care of the remains of a child who had died in a car accident. "Sunghoon is waiting for you at home."

Your expression soured further, and you continued working. You started applying makeup to your client’s face. "You could have just sent him home. We talked earlier, and there's nothing left to discuss."

"Is there a problem between you two?" She began gathering supplies to clean the body.

"I don’t know about him," you replied.

"Have I mentioned that he’s been here almost every day for the past few days?" she said. "He says you aren’t answering his calls or texts. He’s really worried about you."

You grimaced at the mental image of him. "He probably can’t accept that I broke up with him before our twenty-five days were up."

"Why did you break up so quickly, anyway? Didn’t you enjoy his company?"

You sighed and adjusted the skirt of the body. "Mom, can we talk about this later? I feel like it’s disrespectful to our clients to gossip about that jerk."

Your mother chuckled softly. "Alright, we’ll talk later. I just need to finish this up."

After a few minutes, you completed your task. "I’ll be in the office," you said before leaving her in the preparation room. You tidied yourself up and headed to your mother’s office, only to find your father there.

"Oh, too bad. Sunghoon just left."

You secretly frowned. You thought you would need to wait over an hour before facing the conversation about him. Apparently, you didn’t need to wait for your mother to finish after all; here was yet another person ready to pry.

“We already talked,” you said while booting up your laptop, hoping that if you acted busy, your dad wouldn’t ask too many questions.

After a brief silence, you glanced over at him. You met his intense gaze, as if he were scrutinizing you.

“What?” you asked, a bit anxious.

He smiled. “I always say that ‘life is short’ is the most valuable lesson we learn from this business. But there’s something even more significant.”

Ah, yes. You found this kind of discussion preferable. You would rather engage with a philosophical funeral director than a curious father.

“What’s the more important lesson?” you inquired.

“For me, realizing that life is short has taught me not to hold back my feelings. It’s vital for me to express my love for you all. I don’t want to look back with regret for not telling you how much you matter to me.”

You had heard this from him countless times before, but it was alright—even if it was repetitive, as long as the conversation didn’t veer towards the guy you dated for twenty-five days.

You nod to keep the conversation going. “Your mom, since life is short, prioritizes the eternal life in heaven, which is why she's religious.” He smiled. “Daehi enjoys his life and pursues her dreams because she understands her time is limited.” You shrug. “We’re both the same.”

Your father shakes his head. “That’s not all you’ve learned.” He moves closer to you. “You’re hesitant to commit fully to anything—a job, a person—because you fear you’ll be miserable when they’re gone.”

You blinked, feeling a lump in your throat. Clearing your throat, you joked, “Dad, why didn’t you tell us you took Psychology class?”

“I think this explains why you often change jobs, courses, and interests; you’re reluctant to fully commit to just one. Why didn’t you feel pain when your relationships ended, Y/n? Was it because you didn’t really love them? You never allowed yourself to get attached because, deep down, you believed they would leave you eventually.”

The memory of your first client on the embalming table surfaces, the mother in tears over the dreams that were lost with the death of her eldest child.

But what stuck in your mind was the image of the deceased man's girlfriend, nearly beside herself with grief. Misery shone in her eyes. You later learned that she was pregnant at the time. You didn’t want to experience that kind of pain. If love could end like that, you wanted no part of it.

Your eyes burned with emotion. “Isn’t it natural for anyone to avoid pain, Dad? It’s survival of the fittest, right?”

Your father stepped closer and gently stroked your hair. “But living without love isn’t really living at all, my child. And pain is a part of love. We must accept that.”

Well, all your reservations about loving seemed pointless now. Despite your previous reluctance to love fully, it happened anyway. You fell in love.

While you were busy enjoying your dates and casual conversations, you were completely unaware that the man had already took your heart. The irony was that you, who feared falling in love, ended up in love with someone who couldn’t truly love back. For Sunghoon, relationships lasted only twenty-five days; after that, all feelings expired, and it was time to move on to the next.

That was just how it was.

That's why you avoided the guy; you realized you were already in love with him. You couldn’t even bear to imagine a line of people like Yuri waiting to catch Sunghoon after your breakup. The thought of him with someone else was unbearable.

And now, it was happening—the very thing you feared: getting hurt.

Ah, damn it. This was all Sunghoon’s fault!

Is it possible to un-fall for someone? If only it were that easy.

Day 26

He roughly ran his hands over his face, even tugging at his hair in frustration. "Fuck! Is karma getting back at me?"

He looked up, staring blankly at the ceiling as he recalled Y/n's beautiful face-the sweet smile, the lively laugh, the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her skin, and that night…

After that, he remembered what you looked like the last time you spoke—how you held back your tears, the sadness in your eyes, and the words you said that pierced his heart...

"You really are a hopeless case, Park Sunghoon. Just go home. I need to get back to work."

"No, Sunghoon. My answer is no. And please, stop coming back here."

Why is he such a mess?

"I want another shot. Another twenty-five days with you."

That’s what he requested from you...

Who would be pleased with that!?

He’s such an idiot! That’s not what he truly wants from you. He doesn’t want just twenty-five days; he wants twenty-five thousand days with you. Or even better, twenty-five thousand lifetimes with you.

It seems he’s finally discovered a love similar to that of his parents.

Sunghoon no longer cares about what his friends think. He’s ready to admit to anyone that he’s given in and can’t make any more excuses: he loves you wholeheartedly.

He chuckles at himself now. Why was it so difficult to accept that before? Is there anything wrong with falling in love with a beautiful, kind, and intelligent woman?

Speaking of you, he needs to talk to you and share his feelings before you completely turn away and choose a conceited lawyer instead.

He saved his work and shut down his computer. He quickly took a shower and got dressed. And within minutes, he was driving. If he could, he would push his car to the limit just to reach you faster.

He was eager to see you.

He was almost there. The sign for Yoon’s Funeral Service was in view, and he was about to see the woman he missed so much.

He pressed the gas pedal harder, lost in thoughts of her, when suddenly a motorcycle cut in from the side. Sunghoon swerved to avoid it, but a streetlight appeared in front of him. Before he could react again, his car crashed into it. A loud crash filled his ears as he lost consciousness.

—

You wouldn’t have noticed that you were staring at the picture of you and Sunghoon on your phone if you hadn’t heard Daehi calling out to you.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, immediately feeling anxious at the sight of your sister entering your room.

“Sunghoon had an accident, just down the street. He’s in our morgue right now, he—“

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over you.

You weren’t able to let Daehi continue what she was saying as you screamed and rushed down to the funeral home below, nearly tripping in your haste, barely able to see the path through your tear-filled eyes.

This was the nightmare you had feared for all these years.

You didn’t bother putting on a mask or coat; you just ran to the preparation room. There was indeed someone on the embalming table, covered with a white sheet stained with a lot of blood.

You froze near the door and broke down in tears.

A fellow mortician was preparing instruments at the sink on one side of the room and glanced over at you.

“Y/n?” they called out.

You forced yourself to speak. “Just… just give me five minutes, please, Chae.” The employee looked puzzled, but you didn’t notice due to the pain overwhelming you. “Okay, sure?” Chae replied before leaving you alone.

You stepped closer to the body. “You idiot! Damn you, Sunghoon! You made me fall in love with you, and now you’re just gonna leave me!? Again?! You didn’t even give me a chance to tell you I love you…” Despite your trembling knees, you approached the corpse, wanting to see Sunghoon one last time. Taking a deep breath, you slowly pulled back the white sheet.

Your tears hung suspended in the air as you took in the sight of the cadaver: dark skin, a crooked nose, a large face, and a scar on one cheek.

“Y/n?” you heard a familiar voice call out.

You turned and saw Sunghoon standing in the doorway. He had bandages on the side of his forehead and one cheek, looking at you in surprise.

You redirected your gaze back to the body before looking at the young man again. “This isn’t you.”

“It’s not,” he responded.

Daehi suddenly appeared next to him, chuckling as she scratched his head. “That’s what I was trying to tell you, right? I was saying that Sunghoon got into an accident and is in the morgue because he wanted to help.”

You stared at your sister in shock for a moment. When you finally understood what had happened, your legs gave way beneath you.

God, forgive me for all the sins I’ve committed….

You felt the urge to blame her for the emotional chaos she caused you, but she wasn’t at fault. That was what your sister had meant to say, but you hadn’t allowed her to finish. So, it was partly your fault.

You glared at Daehi. “Why do you always have to make your sentences so unclear? You made me panic.” You wiped your tears and tried to regain your composure.

You walked out of the preparation room, brushing past the two by the door.

You ran into Chae, who seemed ready to start embalming the body you had mistaken for Sunghoon. She looked at you in surprise, likely noticing your puffy eyes and red nose, but she didn’t say anything.

“Thanks, Chae,” you managed to say as you continued outside. You intended to go home, lock yourself in your room, and just like your sister had suggested, you wanted to cry properly.

But you didn’t even make it to the entrance of the funeral parlor. You were still in the casket showroom when someone grabbed your arm.

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted you as you turned around.

A surge of emotions hit you all at once—relief that he wasn’t actually dead, embarrassment, sadness, fear…

But you let your annoyance be the only thing he saw.

“What?” you snapped, irritated both from the embarrassment and from realizing how much you actually love him.

A faint smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth, and you noticed for the first time the dried blood on it.

“I’m giving you the chance to say everything you wanted to say to me. That way, when I really do die, you won’t have any regrets—Ow!” He flinched as you punched him in the shoulder.

“You’re so annoying!” you shouted, hitting him repeatedly.

Sunghoon caught hold of your arms to stop you “Come on, have some mercy. I just got out of an accident. I’ll probably have more bruises from you than from the crash.”

You felt a bit sorry for him, but you kept up your glare as he looked ready to burst out laughing at any second. “And you still had the audacity to joke around? Do you think this is funny? I nearly had a heart attack earlier, you jerk!”

Sunghoon pulled you into a hug, and you couldn’t help but relax, surrendering to the warmth of his embrace. "I'm so, so sorry, Y/n. We never meant to scare you," he said softly.

You started to cry against his chest. But this time, it was a tears of pure relief. He held you close, then gently kissed the top of your head. And just like that, all your hurt seemed to dissolve. It felt almost magical.

He raised his hand in a gesture of apology. "I’m really sorry. Scaring you was never our intention."

You reached up, lightly touching the bandage near his eyebrow. "What happened? How did you end up in an accident?"

"I was hurrying to get here," he said. "But don’t get me wrong, I was careful—until a motorbike suddenly cut me off. I swerved to avoid him but ended up crashing into a pole. Luckily, the airbag deployed, so I only got a few scrapes. And guy on the motorbike made it past me safely," he went on. "But he was being reckless, and he ended up cutting off another vehicle. This time, he got hit by a bus."

You closed your eyes, silently praying for the soul of the person left in the morgue, while also thanking the heavens for Sunghoon’s safety. You didn’t even want to think about what you would have done if he hadn’t made it.

"I… I was so scared," you whispered, voice shaky. "I thought… I thought you were gone."

He hugged you tighter, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. Looking up, you saw Sunghoon’s eyes were closed, as if he was savoring having you in his arms. A warm, sweet feeling filled your chest.

"I’ve been dying to do this again; dying to be with you again," Sunghoon whispered, his voice soft and intimate. His eyes opened, and his gaze seemed to pierce right through to your soul. "Why did you suddenly go to Jeju?" he asked, a hint of sulk in his voice.

"I couldn’t say no. It was Jiwon’s sister’s birthday celebration, and she’s my friend, too. Plus, I thought I needed some space to think about us. But I promise, I already turned Jiwon down. Again."

"Good." He smiled. "For days now, my mind’s been filled with nothing but Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. Honestly, I got scared—I thought I was going crazy."

A smile crept onto your face. "Oh? Haven’t you always been a bit crazy?"

"Only for you." He reached out and gently brushed your cheek.

"I’m sorry. The words that came out of my mouth yesterday were wrong. I didn’t mean that I wanted just another twenty-five days with you; I want twenty-five lifetimes with you, Y/n. I love you."

You could only stare into his handsome face, his eyes shimmering with sincerity. There was no way you could say no to him.

"I’d like that, too. Twenty-five lifetimes with you," you replied, making him smile.

"Hold on." He kissed the top of your head before pulling away, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

"What’s that for?" you asked, a bit confused.

He started typing on his phone. "I have a letter here that I meant to read to you yesterday. But when I got so annoyed when I saw you with that Jiwon guy that I completely forgot about it.

You chuckled at the sarcastic mention of your former suitor. "Okay, let’s hear it."

"Here it goes." He cleared his throat, lowering his voice as he read. "To my lovely mortician," he began, making you smile. "You brought life to the living dead that I was before I met you. Now, here I am, dying to be yours completely because I simply can’t live without you."

You laughed loudly. "God, Sunghoon! That’s so cheesy!" You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Wait? I’m not finished? I still have a closing line?” he sassily said but laughed as he wrapped his arm around your waist. He looked into your eyes, smiling as he read the final part of his so-called letter. "I’m head over heels, dying for you. Yours truly, Park Sunghoon."

Before you could laugh out loud, he kissed you, silencing your supposed laughter with a passionate embrace that made you melt into him. You moaned softly and kissed him back, realizing how much you missed him… and how much you missed this.

"I love you to death, Yoon Y/n," he whispered against your lips before pulling you into another deep, heated kiss. You clutched the fabric of his shirt, letting your kisses express everything you couldn’t put into words.

Day 803

You looked beautiful in his arms, still catching your breath from what you had just done, but happiness radiated from your face. You reached out and pinched his cheek playfully. "Wow, you’re so good at this!" you gasped. "How did you become such an expert so quickly? Have you been practicing with someone else?"

"No one else. It’s way more enjoyable when I’m with you," he replied, planting a kiss on your lips. "Come on, let’s get up."

You pulled him up from the parachute you had just been lying on. Yes, it was indeed a parachute. You had just finished skydiving. It was your third monthsary when you first introduced him to that extreme sport, and he had become so addicted to the thrill of flying that here you were again for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Life with you—his girlfriend, felt like skydiving—exhilarating, exciting... it was the adrenaline rush of his life.

So much had changed for Sunghoon since you officially became a couple twenty-five days after you first met. Most importantly, he had trashed out his 25-day dating method. People he knew were amused, confused, or even laughed at him, but he didn’t care about their opinions anymore. What mattered to him was that he had seen the light. His life had never been this fun.

Your relationship wasn’t perfect—you had disagreements and problems like anyone else—but you always managed to overcome them. He was confident that you could face anything that came your way because you both had each other's support and love... and, of course, the support of your families.

Now, it felt like he was ready for even more days of joy with you.

Sunghoon sighed contentedly with a smile, pulling you closer to him and kissing your forehead. "I love you." You grinned but didn’t have a response.

"Look over there." He pointed at something flying in the distance.

"Hey, there’s a drone!" you exclaimed. "I wonder if it captured our flight!"

He just smiled at you.

Before long, the drone flew up to you and stopped right at your feet. "What’s this?" you asked, narrowing your eyes as you shot Sunghoon a doubtful look. You noticed a small black coffin taped to the top of the device.

"Just take a look," Sunghoon replied casually.

Together, you both removed the tape from the drone, and then he handed you the small box. Your eyes widened as you examined it. "What now, Park Sunghoon?" you exclaimed, feeling a surge of nerves. It seemed you already guessed what he was planning. "Does your proposal really have to have a Halloween theme?"

He laughed. "What do you mean ‘proposal’? Just open the coffin and see for yourself. You’re so quick to assume, you know that?” he laughed as you playfully punched his arm and slowly opened the tiny box.

"It’s ring!" you squealed when you saw what was inside. You read from the small note attached to the ring.

I’m dying to spend the rest of my life with you.

"Oh my god, Sunghoon, you’re so annoying!" You lightly punched his shoulder.

He cupped your face in his hands, and you felt a rush of butterflies in your stomach from the nerves. You smiled, even though he could tell you were on the verge of tears. He let the words pour out with all the overwhelming emotions inside him. "You’ve brought my faith back to life. You’ve revived my long-lost dreams of finding a love like my parents had." He sighed. "I’m completely down bad dead in love with you. Please m-marry me, Yoon Y/n."

Tears filled your eyes. With love shining brightly, you replied, "Okay, fine. I’ll marry you. I couldn’t say not to a poor thing, can’t I?"

He laughed and wrapped you in a tight embrace, holding the woman he loved more than anything in the world.

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, violence, swearing, mention of death, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts, slowburn.

Word count: +5k

A/n: this part will follow the events of Scream 6 but it will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12.

Iris stared at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of her makeshift Men in Black costume. The black suit felt too tight, and the sunglasses slipped down her nose. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. Once upon a time, the idea of going to a party with her friends would have excited her, but now the thought only made her feel uneasy.

She had Tara to thank for her current predicament. For the past two weeks, Tara had relentlessly bugged her about attending the frat party, her enthusiasm almost palpable through every text and conversation. And here Iris was, caught in a swirl of frustration and reluctantance, walking down the street with Tara, who looked radiant in her pirate costume, complete with a white shirt that showed her shoulders, a delicate gold neckclace, and a stylish headscarf. Honestly, she looked way too hot and Iris was having a hard time at pretending like she didn't notice it. She hated to admit it, but for the last thirty minutes, she'd been avoiding looking directly at Tara, fearful that if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop.

"I can't believe you convinced me to come to this stupid party," Iris muttered, trying to suppress a grin at Tara's playful smile.

"I've been told I'm really good at convincing," Tara replied, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.

"I don't think you're that good," Iris shot back, attempting to maintain her irritated facade.

Tara stopped in her tracks, causing Iris to halt beside her. The shorter girl leaned in, a special glint in her eyes. "Don't make me bring the big guys," she teased, her tone low and mischievous, clearly enjoying the moment.

Iris felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward, but she quickly shook her head. "Just don't do that thing," she gestured to Tara's face, her tone a mix of annoyance and fondness. "You know, that thing you do with your eyes."

Tara paused, her expression shifting to mock confusion as she lowered her eyelids and pouted, exaggerating the look to the point of absurdity. "What thing?" she asked, batting her lashes in a way that was almost comical.

"Ugh, I hate you," Iris groaned, unable to suppress her laughter any longer.

"Love you too!" Tara chirped, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

The distant sounds of music pulsated through the trees ahead, a vibrant invitation beckoning them closer. Yet, as they moved forward to the frat house, Iris still felt a nagging uncertainty. She glanced at the dark shadows that lined the path, the branches casting eerie shapes on the ground. Each small rustle made her heart race, and she found herself instinctively leaning closer to Tara, who kept her grounded with an easy confidence.

"Oh, hey, Tara!" called a guy in a Blackmore College jacket. He had black long hair, and a neatly groomed mustache.

"Jason," Tara greeted, her voice brightening. "Are you and Greg gonna come to the okb party?"

"Well, if he finishes his Spanish project in time, yes, we will," Jason said, raising his eyebrows with a hint of optimism. Then he turned his attention to Iris. "Hi, I'm Jason, you must be..."

"I'm Iris" her tone slightly awkward. "Nice to meet you"

Jason gave her a tight lipped smile before looking back at Tara once again, his smile widening. "Is your sister coming?"

"No way! Sam wouldn't be caught dead at a frat party," Tara chuckled, the very idea making her giggle.

Jason shrugged innocently,"There's a first time for everything," he replied, his voice laced with an overconfident nonchalance. Iris shot Jason a wary glance, picking up on a sense of arrogance that made her gut twist.

"Not tonight, though," Tara said firmly, beginning to pull Iris away from the conversation, eager to get to the party.

"Can't convince her?" Jason called after them, his voice teasing.

"No. That's not my problem, that's yours!" Tara shouted back over her shoulder, laughter mingling with the distant music.

"Save me a drink!" Jason's voice faded as they walked further down the sidewalk.

Once they were a safe distance away from the party, Iris turned to Tara, her brow furrowed with curiosity. "So, does Jason know Sam?"

Tara shrugged, her eyes darting back to the thrumming crowd they had just escaped. "Not really."

Iris tilted her head, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Don't you think it was a little weird that he was so interested in getting your sister to come to this party?"

"Jesus, Iris," Tara said, exasperated. "Not everyone is out there to get us."

"I know that but he was really strange,".

"It's Jason, for crying out loud! He's just a guy from my film studies class. Of course he's weird!" Tara replied, a playful smirk creeping across her face. "Maybe he has a crush on Sam."

"Yeah, or maybe he's plotting a murder. You know, a typical Friday night," Iris quipped, her tone half-serious, half-teasing.

"Okay, stop." Tara abruptly came to a halt, gripping both of Iris's shoulders with a firm yet gentle hold. "Iris, I know that you and Sam are the presidents of the Paranoid Fan Club, but I brought you here today so you could chill out. You two have been on edge for the past two years. It's time to let it go."

"Okay, rude. I'm not paranoid!" Iris shot back, feigning indignation.

"Yes, you are!" Tara countered, rolling her eyes. "I get it, but you have to start living, too."

"I know," Iris huffed, crossing her arms defiantly. "I'm living just fine, thank you very much."

"Are you, though?" Tara asked softly, her voice dropping to a more serious note. "Can you try to see it from my perspective?"

In a playful act of defiance, Iris crouched down, mimicking Tara's height. "Yeah, I can try," she said, struggling to keep a straight face.

"You are so not funny, you fucker. We were having a moment!" Tara protested, her frustration only half-hearted.

"I can't hear you from way up here," Iris replied, a teasing lilt to her voice.

"I'm going to punch you in the face," Tara said, though a smile threatened to break through her stern demeanor.

"You'll have to tiptoe to get there. It's cute, really," Iris laughed, her spirit lifting.

"Well, I don't have to tiptoe to punch you in the gut" Tara shot back as she smiled sarcastically. "Keep it up and you might find out"

"Love it when you talk dirty to me" Iris grinned, wrapping an arm around Tara's shoulders as they resumed their walk toward the house. The cool evening air was refreshing, and for a moment, the weight of their worries seemed to lighten. If only she had noticed the way Tara's cheeks flushed with warmth at the closeness.

The music thumped through the speakers, reverberating through the crowded frat house, where colorful lights flickered and danced along the walls. A bunch of faces, flushed with excitement and enthusiasm, swayed to the rhythm, their laughter punctuating the air. The scent of spilled drinks and food mingled with the sweet, fruity aroma of mixed cocktails, creating an atmosphere that was both chaotic and exhilarating.

Iris stood near the kitchen counter, where a makeshift bar had been set up. The countertops were cluttered with half-empty bottles, mixers, and stacks of red cups. She took in the scene, people dancing with their costumes on, some attempting to impress one another with their moves, while others lounged on the couches, engrossed in animated conversations. She had to admit, she was having more fun than she originally thought she would.

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how fucked you guys want to get tonight?" Mindy asked  as she lined up four shots on the kitchen counter.

"Hopefully a ten!" Anika exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she grinned widely at the group. With that, they raised their glasses in unison and downed their shots, the liquid burning their throats as they swallowed.

Iris gagged dramatically, her face contorting in an exaggerated grimace. "God, that was awful! I'm going to go make a drink. Does anybody want one?" she declared, wiping her mouth and shaking her head in disgust at the harshness of the shot.

"I'll take one!" Tara called out, a grateful smile on her face as she leaned closer to Iris.  As Iris turned to leave, Mindy shouted after her, "When did you become such a pussy? That wasn't even that strong!"

Iris shot her a middle finger over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips despite the faux indignation. "Maybe my taste buds just have standards bitch" she called back, making Mindy snicker as she tried to stifle her laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, you're just weak". After Iris was out of sight, Mindy leaned in conspiratorially. "So, Tara, any hopes for tonight?" she asked, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively while wrapping an arm around Anika.

"Just have fun, I guess," Tara replied, a hint of confusion crossing her face as she tried to understand the underlying implication.

"Not planning to make a move on Iris?" Anika teased, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Tara laughed nervously, the sound a mix of embarrassment and surprise. "Why would I... I don't... I..." she stuttered, her friends bursting into laughter at her flustered state.

"Look, all I'm saying is tonight would be a great night to do it. Ask her to dance!" Mindy encouraged, her voice playful yet earnest.

"Iris hates dancing; she's going to say no," Tara protested, shaking her head as she glanced at the girl, who was now distracted by the antics of a group trying to recreate a viral TikTok dance.

"She would say no to everyone but you," Mindy replied. "She has a soft spot for you."

"No, she doesn't,"

"Yes, she does!" Anika and Mindy chimed in unison, laughter bubbling between them.

"Just test it out," Anika said, her eyes darting toward Iris, who had returned with drinks. "She's coming!"

Iris handed a brightly colored drink to Tara. "Here you go!" she said, a smile breaking across her face.

"Gotta say, Iris," Anika whistled teasingly, "That suit definitely looks good on you. Like, if I didn't have a girlfriend, I'd be jumping you right now."

Iris erupted into laughter, her face lighting up as she turned to Mindy, whose expression was one of mock horror.

"Okay, I think I just threw up!" Mindy faked gag. "You're my girlfriend; you're supposed to say she's ugly!"

"But I would be lying!" Anika countered, unable to hold back her giggles.

"God, I know. Unfortunately, you look good Iris," Mindy added dramatically, tossing her hands up in defeat. "Get out of my sight!" Iris laughed, waving them off playfully.

"What about you, Tara? Do you think Iris look good?" Anika asked intentionally, a spark in her eyes.

"Uh, yeah, definitely," Tara stammered, her eyes widening as the focus shifted to her.

"Now you're just being nice," Iris teased, nudging Tara playfully.

After a bit more lighthearted banter, Mindy and Anika made their excuses to leave, but not before Mindy shot Tara a knowing wink, leaving Tara feeling nothing but anxiety. Once they were alone, Tara turned to Iris, her heart racing. "So, umm, wanna dance?"

"Dance?" Iris snorted, her disbelief evident. "I'm terrible at it. I hate it."

"C'mon, it would be fun!" Tara urged, extending her hand with a hopeful smile.

Iris hesitated, searching Tara's eyes for a moment. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she relented. "Fine." Tara's heart soared at Iris's unexpected agreement, though she hid her surprise well. Maybe Mindy was right after all.

They stepped onto the dance floor, and Tara instinctively reached for Iris's hand.

They started to sway to the music, the soft melodies wrapping around them like a gentle breeze. Iris watched Tara move with an effortless grace, her body swaying fluidly, each motion as natural as breathing. Tara's laughter blended with the music, her eyes sparkling with joy, and Iris felt a rush of admiration with a hint of longing.

Iris tried to mimic Tara's movements, but her attempts felt clumsy and awkward. She felt stupid, her limbs stiff and uncoordinated, each sway a far cry from Tara's elegance. Dancing had never been her strong suit, and tonight was no different.

In a playful moment, Tara twirled Iris around, and they both burst into laughter when Iris stumbled slightly, inadvertently stepping on Tara's foot. The laughter felt infectious, washing away Iris's insecurities, if only for a moment. "I told you I'm terrible at this!" Iris exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I don't care," Tara replied, her voice light and warm. "I just want to dance with you." With that, Iris spun Tara around in return, her heart lifting at the sight of Tara's radiant smile. It was a small victory, yet it filled her with a sense of confidence she hadn't expected.

As they resumed their swaying, Iris couldn't shake the tension in her body. Each attempt to move in sync felt like a losing battle; her nerves made her movements feel rigid and forced. She found herself wiggling awkwardly to the beat, struggling to find a rhythm that felt natural.

"It'd help if you'd loosen up, ya know?" Tara chimed in, her giggle light and encouraging, cutting through the din of the party.

"How?" Iris shot back, a hint of desperation in her voice as she glanced at Tara, hoping for guidance.

"Simple! Just grab my waist," Tara suggested, stepping closer and reaching for Iris's hands. She guided them slowly to her waist, their bodies inches apart, the warmth radiating between them. "Like that," she whispered, her breath brushing against Iris's ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Iris felt her heart race, the world around them fading into a blur as she focused on the closeness, the sensation of Tara's body against hers. There was an intoxicating thrill in that moment, a rush of something deeper than just dancing. Tara's arms slipped around Iris's neck, pulling them even closer, and Iris found herself entranced, her body instinctively moving to follow Tara's lead.

As they swayed together, time seemed to stretch and bend, the music becoming a soundtrack to their connection. Iris couldn't tear her gaze away from Tara's face; the way her eyes lit up with laughter, the curve of her smile, the freckles in her cheeks, it all made Iris feel dizzy with awe. With each subtle movement, the tension began to dissolve, and for the first time, Iris felt the music seep into her bones.

"See? You're doing amazing now," Tara said, her voice warm and encouraging.

"I think it's the teacher, really," Iris teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Tara's laughter was like a melody of its own, filling the air around them. Iris felt emboldened, her confidence building as she matched Tara's sway, letting herself get lost in the rhythm.

Tara started playing with Iris's tie, twirling her finger around it absently. She looked up to find Iris staring intently at every part of her face, an expression full of curiosity with something deeper. Feeling a surge of boldness, Tara decided to bridge the gap between them. With a playful tug, she pulled on Iris's tie, drawing their faces closer together.

"If you keep pulling my tie like that, you're going to mess it up," Iris warned, her voice teasing but laced with an unmistakable hint of nervousness.

"Do you want me to stop?" Tara asked, her heart racing. With another gentle tug, she closed the distance further until their noses were almost touching, the air between them charged with anticipation.

"Not really," Iris admitted, her eyes sparkling with desire. In a swift motion, she grabbed Tara's hips, pulling her even closer until their bodies pressed together. The warmth radiating between them made Tara's breath hitch, and she brought her hand to tangle them into Iris's hair.

"You know? Anika was right," Tara said, her voice low, but the words felt heavy in the charged atmosphere.

"About?" Iris's voice barely rose above a whisper as their breaths mingled in the warm air, creating an intimate bubble around them.

"You look really good today." Tara's eyes sparkled with genuine admiration, tracing the contours of Iris's face, from the gentle curve of her cheek to the way her hair framed her features.

"Just good?" Iris raised an eyebrow, a teasing lilt in her tone that sent a thrill through Tara.

"You look hot." The words hung in the air, and Iris's smirk widened, a special glint in her eyes. Tara couldn't help but glance down at Iris's lips for a moment, the urge to close the gap between them almost overwhelming.

"I just..." Tara began, her heart pounding as she searched for the right words, but her thoughts scattered when another voice cut through the moment.

"Iris, no way!" A ginger-haired boy in his twenties called out, his presence sudden and bright. Iris snapped out of her trance, her smile transforming instantly upon recognizing him.

"Damon! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, her excitement evident as she turned to face him.

"I would never miss a party." He flashed a charming grin before his gaze shifted to Tara, an apologetic expression crossing his features. "Was I interrupting?"

"No, no, don't worry," Iris insisted quickly, a deep blush covering her face. "Mmm, this is my friend Tara."

"Hi, I'm Damon," he said, offering a warm smile that made Tara feel both welcomed and slightly annoyed. "You mind if I steal her for a second?"

Tara tried to hide her disappointment, her throat tight. "Not at all," she managed, though the words felt hollow.

Iris smiled at her, genuine and bright. "I'll see you in a bit, okay? Thanks for the dancing," she said, her eyes lingering on Tara's for a heartbeat longer.

"Yeah, no worries," Tara replied, forcing a tight-lipped smile, her heart sinking a little.

As they turned away, she heard Damon's voice carrying over the music. "I have so many people I want you to meet." They disappeared into the room, laughter and chatter swallowing them up.

Tara stood there, feeling a tightening in her chest that made her uncomfortable. She didn't know who this Damon was, but the ease between him and Iris showed that they were close, she just didn't know how much.

She had the best medicine for heartache, alcohol.

Iris was engaged in an animated conversation with Damon and three of his friends, her laughter ringing out as she gestured enthusiastically, when Anika suddenly burst into the scene, her face showing distress.

"Iris, we need your help like right now!" Anika exclaimed, grabbing Iris's hand and tugging her away before she had a chance to comprehend the situation.

"What's going on?" Iris asked, confusion flickering across her features as she tried to keep pace with Anika's rapid strides.

"It's Tara," Anika replied breathlessly, her voice laced with concern.

They quickened their steps, weaving through the crowd of students until they reached the dimly lit hall. Just as they arrived, Iris's heart sank as she caught sight of Tara ascending the staircase, her laughter echoing softly. Beside her was a tall guy with tousled brown hair, his confident posture and relaxed demeanor suggesting he was much older than Tara, a fact that sent a wave of unease through Iris.

"Hey, Tara, come here!" Iris called out, her voice firm but laced with tension. She clenched her fists, a protective instinct surging within her.

"Sorry, we didn't catch that," the older guy replied, flashing a condescending smile that only deepened Iris's frustration.

"I think you did." Iris spoke as she felt herself growing angrier every second.

"No, Iris. It's fine," Tara said, her voice slightly slurred as she leaned heavily against the railing for support, struggling to maintain her balance. "I'm just gonna get a drink and then I'll be right back." She took a wobbly step down the stairs. "You should go back to what you were doing," she added, attempting to sound casual.

"See, Iris? She wants to," the older guy said mockingly, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he flashed a triumphant grin. He reached out and grabbed Tara by the arm, making her stumble, her footing faltering as she tried to regain her balance. He kept on dragging her back up the stairs aggressively and Iris's anger finally erupted.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Iris yelled as she punched the guy straight in the face, he stumbled backward and lost his footing, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud.

"You bitch" he shouted, holding into his bloody nose as he stood up, but before he could fully regain his composure, Iris was already on him. She lunged forward, her hands gripping the fabric of his white shirt, the material cool and smooth beneath her fingers. Her heart raced, fueled by an urgent need to protect Tara, whose faint shouts urging her to stop barely registered in her mind.

"Please, Iris, don't!" Tara's voice trembled, but it felt distant, almost muffled by the pounding in Iris's ears. She could see Tara's worried expression over her shoulder, but all her focus was on the guy before her.

"Do you think you can just push her around like that?" Iris gritted through her teeth, her voice low and intense.  "You enjoy taking drunk girls to your room, you fucking perv?"

"You're ruining the fun, you could've joined us if you weren't crazy".

"Touch her again, and I fucking kill you" he growled at Iris's threat, punching her with a force that sent her stumbling back. The sudden impact disoriented her for a moment, and she could feel the crowd around them erupt into a frenzy of shouts and gasps. She was pretty sure her lip was busted, but instead of showing any pain, a defiant smile spread across Iris's face, a bold expression that seemed to catch him off guard.

With adrenaline pumping through her veins, Iris lunged forward, her body propelled by anger.She closed the distance between them in an instant, driving him backward into the wall with a forceful thud. He gasped as his back hit the hard surface, his eyes wide with surprise and fury, but Iris was undeterred.

As she held him against the wall, she caught sight of the fear creeping into his eyes, and a small part of her reveled in it. The expression on his face shifted from confusion to pain as she drew her fist back and unleashed it with all her strength, landing a solid punch against his nose. The blow echoed in the air, a sharp crack that punctuated the tension surrounding them.

"You're insane" he shot back, incredulity lacing his voice, which faltered as Iris tightened her grip.

Iris leaned in, her breath barely above a whisper, low and deliberate, ensuring he could hear every word. "You have no idea, lay one hand on her and you'll find out"

Just in time, Chad strode into the room. The moment he spotted the boy making another move on Iris, a protective instinct surged within him. Without hesitation, he positioned himself directly in front of her, his posture radiating defiance.

Chad's jaw clenched as he locked eyes with the boy, who glared back defiantly. In an instant, the confrontation escalated; both men began shoving each other. Tara went to Iris to drag her away from the scene, she was still in shock from what the other girl just did.

Sam burst into the room, her eyes quickly scanned the scene, as she was assessing the turmoil unfolding before her. "Sorry to interrupt. I'm just gonna tase you in the balls real quick." He fell to the ground in pain. "Don't ever lay hands on my sister"

"You fucking bitch! Fuck you". All eyes were on her now.

"Sam! Are you fucking kidding me? You're stalking us now." Tara angrily said as she ran outside.

"Holy shit, it's that psycho girl". a guy yelled, as everyone started taking pictures off Sam, Iris quickly grabbed Sam's hand and both of them stormed out of the house.

They were chasing after Tara, who seemed to be trying to get away from Sam as fast as she could.

"Tara." Sam called after her, "Will you stop?"

"I cannot believe you did that!" Tara hissed. "You embarrassed me!" Then she pointed at Iris. "Don't even get me started on you, what the fuck is wrong with you? You punched him and now you're bleeding".

"I don't care, he deserved it"

"That guy was a dick," Sam defended Iris and herself immediately. "I'm glad Iris was there to stop him, he was going to take advantage of you"

Tara threw her arms up in exasperation, her frustration palpable as it hung in the air like a thick fog.

"So?" she challenged, her tone sharp enough to cut through the tension surrounding them.

"So?" Iris echoed, disbelief etched across her features. "You're drunk, Tara, you can't give consent" Iris felt her jaw tense, the muscles tightening as she fought to suppress the urge to lash out. The heat of the moment clawed at her restraint.

"If I want to hook up with an asshole, that's my decision!" Tara spat, her voice rising with indignation. She glared fiercely at the girls, a defiant fire blazing in her eyes. "That's my decision!"

"Okay," Sam replied, rolling her eyes with an exaggerated sigh.

"No problem," Iris interjected, her tone clipped. "Just do it when you're sober." The suggestion hung in the air, thick with irony.

"It's not about you!" Tara snapped, pivoting to face her sister. Her voice was edged with bitterness. "You're out of my life for five years, and now you can't leave me alone for five minutes!" The words came out like venom, each one a reminder of the distance that had long defined their relationship.

Iris's gaze flicked over her shoulder, noticing that the others Chad, Ethan, Mindy, and Anika had followed them outside, standing at a distance. They looked like deer caught in headlights, uncertain and awkward, the weight of the confrontation palpable.

"Because you're not dealing with what happened to us," Sam interjected bitterly. "Have you even gone to see the counselor yet?" There was a sharpness to her words, a frustration born from unaddressed pain.

"No, I'm not going to—" Tara started, but Sam cut her off.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm uninterested in living in the past like you are," Tara admitted, her voice trembling as if each syllable was a weight pulling her under.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam's brow furrowed, confusion and hurt mixing in her expression as she searched for understanding.

Tara hesitated, her eyes darting, as if she were struggling to articulate the storm brewing inside her. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, as the tension between the sisters persisted.

"Guys, come on," Chad interjected, sensing that the escalating situation was about to reach a boiling point. He stepped forward, his expression earnest as he aimed to diffuse the situation. "Stop arguing." His voice cut through the heated exchange.

"It means I'm not going to let what happened to us for three days define the rest of my life!" Tara shot back, her eyes blazing with defiance. The youngest Carpenter's voice cracked with raw emotion as she continued, "Therapy might work for you and Iris, but I don't need to keep revisiting the past every day."  Now, Iris knew that it was true but she still couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt deep within her. It wasn't her fault she still had trouble adapting to her new reality full of mistrust and pain.

"So you're just going to pretend it never happened?" Sam asked, her tone laced with disbelief after a heavy silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Tara let out a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world rested upon them. "What are you doing here, Sam? In New York?" she asked, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. "You're working two shitty jobs just to help pay for... whatever. But what's your plan? I know what I'm going to do, okay? I'm going to keep going to college, I'm going to get my degree, and I'm going to live my life. My life. Okay? You just followed me here and won't let me out of your sight." The words poured out with exasperation.

"I'm just trying to look out for you," Sam replied, her expression shifting to one of dejection.

"I know. I know you are," Tara responded, her voice softening as she met Sam's gaze. "But you can't do it for the rest of my life. You have to let me go."

"Hey!" a voice called out, slicing through the tension that filled the night air. Before anyone even got the chance to react, a cold drink was being thrown at Sam, soaking her shirt. She recoiled in shock, her eyes wide as the icy liquid dripped down her skin, sending a jolt of surprise coursing through her.

"Murderer!" The girl shouted, her voice dripping with venom, eyes blazing with accusation. The crowd around them paused, curiosity piqued by the sudden commotion. Iris felt a surge of anger rising within her; she instinctively stepped forward, fists clenching at her sides, ready to confront the girl. But Mindy was quicker, stepping in front of her with a firm hand on her chest.

"Calm down, no more fighting," Mindy urged, her tone laced with urgency. She could see the fire in Iris's eyes and knew that a confrontation would only escalate the situation further.

"What the fuck is wrong with you bitch?" Sam screeched, her voice a mixture of disbelief and fury. She struggled against the hold of her friends, the adrenaline pumping through her veins as she tried to lunge toward the girl, but they held her back firmly.

"You guys should stay away from her," the girl declared, her voice rising above the crowd. She pointed a finger accusatorily at Sam, her expression one of disdain. "She knows what she did."

"I didn't fucking do anything!" Sam shot back, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Step closer if you're so brave bitch!". Iris shouted, her protective instincts kicking in, her heart pounding. Instead of responding, the woman merely flipped Iris off, a smirk on her face as she turned on her heel and continued to walk away.

The air felt thick with unspoken emotions as the group stood in stunned silence, grappling with the unexpected aggression.

"Hey its okay, calm down". Mindy said as they all started to walk back.

Sam, still fuming, turned to Iris, the fury in her eyes mingling with despair. "I'm so sick of this shit"

"I know Sam, I know".

[sugology]

PART II: SOMETHING MORE

Part I Here

synopsis: college!au. suguru geto x afab!reader. In which the once casual hookups they shared turn into something much more.

warnings: a bit of angst, penetration (fem!receiving), fingering (fem!receiving), a little dirty talk, no condom again (sorry), teasing

MDNI 18+ ONLY

"I want you to stay the night."

Your eyes widened at that. Sex was one thing, but spending the night with him felt much more intimate. You were used to the quick sex, then watching his car pull off from your dorm window, an almost stabbing pain in your chest. You craved intimacy from him, but now he was offering it, and you were terrified.

"What?" You breathed out.

"Stay the night with me." There was a small smile on his face as he tucked a loose, sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb brushing your flushed skin.

"Why?" You questioned suspiciously.

"Are you really going to make me beg?" He leaned over to press a kiss to your bare shoulder.

"Why the sudden change, Suguru?"

"What do you mean?" He mumbled, his breath tickling your skin.

"Just a few days ago, you were still fucking me in your car then kicking me out thirty minutes later. Now you're inviting me to your apartment, introducing me to your friend, asking me to spend the night." You listed off, your voice small and vulnerable.

Suguru perked his head up, an indecipherable look in his eye. He appeared almost guilty, maybe even shameful. You had felt used for months, although he assumed your intentions had been the same. Just sex. Nothing else.

However as the months went by and the meetups became more frequent, he became attached. Suguru was never good when it came to his feelings. He didn't like becoming attached to people. Everyone always just left.

But being around you made him feel sane, at peace even. The only times he felt all his melancholic thoughts fly away were when you were skin-to-skin, tangled up in each other in the back of his car. The after-sex conversations were always short, but he hung onto them, unbeknownst to you.

He whispered something so softly that you couldn't even hear.

"What?" You asked, turning yourself on your side so you could see him straight on.

Suguru finally rose his head up, looking you directly in the eye. There was sadness there, one that he had been afraid to let you see. "I'm sorry."

You pursed your lips, at a loss for words.

"I shouldn't have treated you like that. You have every right to slap me in the face and leave. I wouldn't fault you for it. But if you're willing, I'd like for you to give me a chance."

"A chance?"

"A chance to treat you right." He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple and you felt a hot blush spread across your cheeks. "I like you. I have for a while. I was being a pussy."

"And why should I trust you?"

"You have no reason to. That's why I'm asking for a chance." He rolled on top of you, trapping you underneath his large frame. "I can make it up to you. Buy you flowers, take you to an expensive dinner... amongst other things. I'm open to suggestions." He placed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, lightly sucking on the sensitive skin. You could feel his cock prodding against your thigh.

"Dinner would be nice." You teased as you ran your hands through his messy hair.

"Nothing else on your mind?" He hinted, taking your earlobe in between his teeth and giving a light tug.

"I don't think so." You yelped out, voice betraying you.

"You're so cute when you lie." His hands trailed down until he reached between your legs. He ran two fingers against your slit, gathering your wetness, before bringing it up to your clit and rubbing circles into it softly. It was still sensitive from round one only a mere ten minutes ago. "Already so wet for me again." He chuckled softly.

You whined, bucking your hips for more friction.

"None of that, yeah? Good girls don't whine. They ask for what they want." He pressed light kisses to your neck as he continued to tease your clit.

"I want you," You murmured, almost inaudible as you shoved your head into his neck, embarrassed.

"You want me, huh? I'm right here, pretty." He placed a kiss on your cheek as he sunk a finger inside your entrance, slowly pumping it in and out.

You mumbled into his neck and although he had heard you perfectly clear, he wanted you to say it again. Louder. Your cheeks burned a bright red as you kept shifting your hips, trying to get more friction on your clit and his finger deeper inside. You wanted more. You needed more.

"I want your cock." You moaned loudly as he inserted a second finger into you, pumping them faster and faster as you gasped for air.

"Again?" He teased, a cocky look on his face.

"Yes!" You pleaded, too needy to even think about being embarrassed.

"Atta girl." He pressed his lips to yours firmly. It was a mess of teeth and tongue as you both fought for dominance in the kiss. He added a third finger into you, causing your mouth to drop open in pleasure, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth. The taste of you still lingered on his soft tongue.

You let out a petulant whine as his fingers left you empty.

"Give me a second, baby," Suguru smirked as he used your juices to jerk off his cock until it got fully erect.

As soon as he slid it into your entrance, he bottomed out, making you take every inch. The familiar stretch made you let out a loud moan.

All the air sucked out of your lungs as he started a fast pace, his tip abusing your gummy g-spot. You braced yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders, biting down on the skin. He groaned at the contact.

"You look so pretty like this." He grunted out as he kissed the side of your mouth. "All fucked out. So beautiful. So, so beautiful."

The praise made you clench down on him hard, a strangled gasp spilling from your lips. His speed increased, which you hadn't thought possible. The bed frame was creaking and you could only pray that the walls weren't thin and no one could hear how much of a slut you were being right now.

"Such a nice fucking pussy too, yeah?" His one hand reached up to tug on your hard, sensitive nipples. You cried out at the sensation, feeling the familiar bubble expand in your lower tummy.

"'m close." You whimpered.

"Me too, baby. Hold off for a second. Don't cum until I say." He stopped the tugging on your nipples to grab your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together.

You nodded, trying to hold back your orgasm that was fast approaching. His cock continued its assault on your g-spot as his lower tummy was rubbing deliciously against your clit. You wanted to cum so so bad.

"Keep your eyes on me. I want you to look at me while you come." He granted you that sweet permission that made you teeter off the edge. You clamped down on his cock as the orgasm smacked into you. Wave after wave of bliss sent your nerve endings alight. Your toes curled as your body spasmed with pleasure.

"Fuck, baby." He cursed as he spilled into you, filling your pussy with his hot cum for the second time that night. "So pretty f'me"

Suguru placed a gentle kiss on your forehead as you gasped for breath, still reeling in a post-sex haze. He rolled off you, allowing for more air to fill your desperate lungs. There was a kind, gentle smile on his face as he looked at you.

"Are you staying the night or not?"

[snzunii]

goodnight n go ( ran h. ) — part two.

it's really bad that you get along so well.

tags. romance, angst, betrayal, hurt/comfort, established relationship, explicit sexual content, bonten!ran, detective!reader, canon-typical violence, crimes and criminals, drugs, smoking, drinking, illegal activities, EIGHTEEN PLUS ONLY.

“Baby. Wake up.” you stirred in your sleep, trying to pull the blanket over your head just so you couldn't hear your boyfriend, whispering in your ear to get the fuck up. “YN.”

“Leave me alone, Ran.” you mumbled, getting anything that you could reach just to cover your face but he’s one step ahead of you, there's nothing left for you to cover your head with. “Fuck.”

You heard him laugh, you felt the bed sink as he sat beside you. “Breakfast’s ready. Come on.”

But you didn't want to stand up. You just want to stay in bed and rot with him. Is that so bad? You haven't had the chance to see and be with each other this long, is it so bad to have one day for the two of you? 

It isn't, right?

“Can we just stay in? We don't have to go to work today, right?”

You weren't that serious—okay, maybe you are. But you didn't think that Ran would lay down beside you and go along with what shenanigans you wanted to do today, “Okay.”

“What, okay?”

“Let’s stay in today.” 

“Really? Aren't you like, needed for work because, I don't know, your boss is a pain in the ass?” you asked him with a wide smile, you looked at him and you saw his pretty eyes looking at you—you suddenly felt conscious, you just woke up, you haven't even brushed your teeth yet.

But he’s still looking at you like you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“Yeah. But that’s a problem for tomorrow.” he smirked, leaning in to kiss you but you pulled away and that made him frown, “What?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, “Bad breath.” you said with a muffled voice.

“The fuck I care, kiss me.” he says and pulls your hand away, you giggled and let him press his lips gently into yours—he bites your lip, and you close your eyes, draping your arm over his neck, pulling him close to you.

You both pulled away, gasping for air. “Yeah, you should brush your teeth.”

“Ran!”

“Kidding.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he just laughed at you, “You’re such a brat.”

“But you love me.” you said, closing your eyes again.

“Hmm. You’re going to sleep again?” you feel his arm slipping under your head, making it your pillow, “Don't you wanna eat first?”

“Too sleepy.” you murmured, “Wake me up in five minutes, ‘kay?”

You didn't hear him answer but  it’s not long until you hear him say your name again.

“YN.”

You open your eyes, and there you are in front of him—with a gun in his hand. How the fuck did you get here?

“Ran.”

Ran held your wrist, pulling you away from the watching eyes. He knows they're not going to do anything—and they know that Ran’s not going to let you go that easily.

Even though you’re his girlfriend, Ran is in too deep in this shit—yeah, they think he’s stupid for having a detective girlfriend—but they know he wouldn't turn that easily, maybe.

You compromised their location, you found them. You could’ve called for back up the moment you saw the guy that you arrested back then, but all that you were thinking of was Ran. You could just easily point your gun to any of them but you didn't do any of that.

They know you wouldn't do that to Ran. They don't know you that much, but the look in your eyes was enough for them to know that you wouldn't just give him up—even if it’s the right thing to do.

You didn't pull away or protest—you didn't push him away, there were no arguments as he pulled you into the other room, with no other people, just the two of you. “YN—”

Instead of you speaking, your palms met his face over and over. “Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you—”

“Stop.” he says, holding both your wrists. “Stop, YN.”

“Why the fuck would you do this to me? How could you?” your voice was small and shaky, your tears falling continuously, “Why the fuck would you keep something like this from me? You know how hard I worked, you know all of it, then you…?”

You look at him, and you see that he’s Ran… but he’s different. He’s like a stranger, a stranger with a familiar face. A stranger that you touch, you hold, you confide in—that you know—a stranger you love.

Ran couldn't find the words that he wanted to say. He hid this from you because he was selfish—he wanted to keep you, he wanted to be close to you.

If he could live this double life forever just to keep you, then he probably would. 

He was different when he was with you, but that doesn't change the fact that he’s a horrible person who’s done a lot of horrible things, right? That’s how you see him now. “I wanted to protect you—”

“Protect me?” you laughed bitterly, “You really think that you keeping all of this from is protecting me? No, you're lying to me! Deceiving me, you were there every night! Listening to me struggle and you’re one of them?! Why, Ran? Why—”

“Because!” he slammed his hand on the table, “Because I fucking love you! I know it’s bullshit, I’m a fucking horrible person! How the fuck am I capable of love? But I do! I do love you and it’s so frustrating hiding all of this from you!”

You ignored what he said. Because if you did choose to acknowledge all that, you would’ve easily run into his arms—turn your back on your morals and just go with him wherever.

You’re too stupid and heartbroken to think straight that all you wanted to do was to touch him. You wanted him to hold you in his arms and tell you all the things he’s said before, that he’s there… that you’ve got nothing to worry about as long as you’re with him.

You can feel your chest closing in on you, it’s like you’re being suffocated to death that you needed to get out. “I need to leave.”

“You can't do that.” he said, holding your wrist when you were about to walk out the door. You tried to swat his hand away but he kept his hold on you, well, you really can't leave this place—it’s not that easy.

And maybe, he was afraid that if he let you leave—if he let you walk out that door, you’d be gone forever. 

From him… from his life. 

“Let me go!” you yelled, trying to wriggle out of his touch, but he pulled you into the couch, “The fuck—”

“I can't let you do that!” he shouted back, “Do you think you could just walk out of here? Do you think they wouldn't fucking kill you the moment you step out of this building?”

“Okay.” you said quietly, almost a whisper but enough for him to hear you, “Can you just please… let go of my hand.”

Ran sat in front of you, on his knees. “YN. Listen to me.”

“What?” your voice cracks, your tears still falling at the side of your eyes, you try to look at him, but every time you do, you feel like sobbing—so you look away. 

“I love you.” he whispered, “I love you.” 

That was all he could say because that is the truth. The only thing in his life that he didn't lie about to you.

You finally look at him, he smiles at you like he didn't do anything wrong—like with just one smile from him, everything will be okay.

And it’s not. Nothing’s ever going to make this okay.

“I love you, YN.” he cups your cheek and you don't pull away, his thumb brushing away the tears streaming down your face. His touch was familiar, it was comforting—just how it was before. “Please, don't leave. Just stay, hm? Stay.”

You have never seen him so… desperate, that he might just die if you didn't give in. But he had to try, if losing his dignity was the only way for you to stay then he would.

But it was a big thing. It’s a big selfish thing to overlook all the things that he had done, and you don't know if you could live with yourself with all of this.

But, it’s Ran. How could you do this to him? How could you leave him?

It’s Ran, for fuck’s sake. It’s Ran, you love him. You’d do everything for him. You’d jump off a cliff for him. 

It’s him, you were going to build a family with him. He was there for you, the only one there when you were basically empty. When you had nothing, he was the only one there. So… how?

How could you even think about this?

It’s Ran. 

There’s no question about that. 

Fuck, YN. Think.

Think.

“YN—” you cut him off by pressing your lips into him, you drape your arm over his neck to pull him close. 

You tug on his tie and deepens the kiss because fuck it. You both pull away to breathe, he presses his forehead against yours, you close your eyes and just try to feel him.

Just try to forget all the things that were happening. 

His lips find yours again, but this time he was kissing you so hungrily, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip as if he was craving you for a very long time, your fingers unbuttoning his suit—you feel the cushion on your back as he towers over you.

His kisses travel down your neck, his hands unbuttoning—no, more like ripping your blouse, favorite blouse, open and pulling your pants down—ridding you of your clothes, you bite back a moan when his hands squeeze the swell of your clothed tits. 

“Let me hear you.” he groaned, you can feel the vibrations on your skin, it’s as if you feel the nerve impulses all throughout your body. “Fuck, please.”

“Please, baby.” here you are legs sprawled open, under him but he’s the one pleading you, was he always this desperate for you?

His hands sets your panties aside, his fingers finding your swollen clit, drawing circles, trying to get just one fucking noise from you.

Finally, you gasp, your fingers gripping his hair as he pushes his fingers in and out of your cunt. Fuck, yes he was always this desperate.

Always so desperate to make you moan his name, always desperate to see your finger-fucked out face—he’s the only one who could make you like this, what makes you think that he would ever let go of you?

Why would he ever let go of you when you're so beautiful and helpless under him? Getting fucked ruthlessly, your legs hanging on his shoulder as he pump his cock in and out of your pussy?

“R-Ran, fuck! Please, slow down—ah!”  you were a fucking mess, sobbing—mumbling all the right words that should come out of your mouth when he’s hitting all the right, sensitive spot inside you. 

But it seems so hard to hear all your pleas when his hips slams into you like this, both your skin slapping, your wet pussy squelching when his dick slams inside you—it was too good, too good for him to stop, too fucking good to listen to you plead him to slow down, not when he can feel your cunt sucking him in.

You weren't sure anymore where you are, all you could see was your boyfriend’s face, fucking the life out of you.

Every grunt he was making passes through your ears and travels throughout your body. It was too much, you were exhausted—too exhausted to be in the right mind. Too tired to think if this is even right, if you should be even getting fucked right now.

You were already mumbling incoherent words when he switch your positions out, you were all on fours holding on the cushion while he fucks you raw from the back, he leans forward, squeezes your tits and pushes you against his chest.

“...too much, baby, slow down.” you whimpered, if only you could see the look on his face, “Ran, baby, please.”

“Tell me you’re mine.” he grunts, his voice hoarse—his breath was warm against your skin, “You're not going to leave, are you? ‘S too good, right?”

“‘m not, baby.” you gasp, your stomach churning as you feel his thrusts slow down, so agonizingly slow that you feel like he’s fucking with you, “‘m not going to leave. I love you.”

“Fuck!” he slammed his cock deeper, holding both your hips as he fucks you harder and harder, “Fuck, fuck—say that again. Say you fucking love me.”

“I love you,” you breathlessly say, “I fucking love you.”

…

You were just there sitting in silence—you, only wearing his coat, hands intertwined as you lean your head on his shoulder.

No one was speaking, you were bathing in the solace of just being there—together. It’s as if nothing happened, it’s as if you’re not going to make a big decision that’s going to affect your lives together.

Ran was the first one to speak, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” you answer mindlessly.

“You said,” he paused, “You’re not going to leave, did you mean it?”

You don't answer him because you don't know. You have no idea if you mean it or not, all you know is you just wanted to stay here for a moment and not think about anything.

He squeezes your hand, his thumb caressing your skin, he holds on to you tight as if he’s going to lose you and holding on to you was the only way for you not to slip away. 

“He’s my brother. The one with the long hair, similar color to mine.”

“I figured.” you whispered, “He looks a lot like you.”

“Yeah?” you hummed. “I guess.”

“Are we going to stay here forever?” you asked, “I’m hungry. I was going to cook dinner but…”

“You, cooking?” you heard him chuckle, “You sure about that?”

You immediately looked at him with a glare, “Excuse me?”

Your gaze softened when you saw that annoying smile on his face, just like that, it’s like everything was normal. It’s like you were on the bubble again, just the two of you—him teasing you, you being a brat but succumbs to him, and smiles back at him anyway.

But then you remember all the things that he lied about, all the things that you found out and all the things that you are about to find out. 

“I love you.” he says. “I love you so much that I don't know what I’m going to do if I lose you… am I? Losing you?”

“I don't know,” your voice was small, almost silent just like the room that surrounds you, “Would you let me go? Would you let yourself lose me?”

The silence settled once again. He looks into your eyes, and if you looked closely you could almost see the vulnerability inside. 

He’s Ran Haitani, he’s feared by some people. Even you figured that out. But when it comes to you, he’s not afraid to look stupid—he’s not afraid to beg you not to leave him.

You leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you felt the ache in your chest. If it’s only that simple, if only you could say yes that easily.

You took a shaky breath as you felt your tears once again, “How do we do this, Ran? How do I love you like this?”

Ran doesn't know either. How could you love him when he’s this? But he’s too selfish to let you go, he’s too caught up in this mess that he holds on to you because you’re the only thing in his life that makes sense.

“Do you want to leave?”

“Leave?”

“We’ll leave. We’ll run away, me and you.” 

Hearing him say those words just added to the pain you were feeling. He’s ready to risk it all for you. But this is wrong. “Why are you making it so hard for me to love you?” 

Leaving isn't the solution, because one way or another, they're going to find you and that would probably end with the two of you dying. But if that’s what it takes to keep you, then he would gladly leave.

You can see the pain in his eyes, in those eyes that hold so much adoration for you. He pulls you in, your head leaning on his chest. You close your eyes as you listen to his heart beat, it was once again comforting, but it shouldn't be. It shouldn't.

 “Then just let me love you enough for the both of us, hm?”

[mrs-kodzuken]

empty promise ⟢ kenma k.

synopsis: you notice that your boyfriend, kuroo, of almost three years has been acting strange lately. you confront him on it and then suddenly you’ve made the decision to leave him. luckily, your best friend is always there for you.

other: cheater!kuroo x fem!reader, best friend!kenma x fem!reader, angst, break up, little mention of ED, comfort, manipulation, gas-lighting, asshole!kuroo, best friend!kenma helping rebuild reader, therapy, best friend!kenma has loved reader since 4eva eventual fluff

"Kuroo, I know it’s happening again.” You sighed, knowing this wouldn't end well, just like last time didn't end well per say either. You stared at the man across from you in the kitchen decorated with picture frames of the both of you as he hovered in front of the fridge, probably wondering why you didn't cook tonight.

“What are you talking about?” He sounded snippy; his demeanor changed as he peered his sharp gaze back at you, immediately becoming defensive. His slick, black suit that he wore leaving for work this morning was hardly as neat as it was, adding on to your suspicion. 

“You’re hiding something from me, I know it.” You finally got out, your heartbeat quickening as it usually did when you would have to confront your boyfriend of three years. It was upsetting that you would have this anxious-riddening feeling that made you sick everytime you defied him. 

“Seriously? This again? You’re fucking kidding me,” He snapped, slamming the refrigerator door shut, into which you jumped at the loud, sudden noise—eyes widening. 

“Yes, Kuroo, this again. I can't set it aside any longer; the feelings are tearing me apart.” You attempted to say, “I just want trust, and—and I feel like I’m not getting it from you,” You stammered, trying to reason with the man; his expression held anger as if he couldn't believe you felt this way, especially about him.

“There you go with your crazy talk; are you sure you’ve been talking with the therapist Y/n?” He accused you, the scoff apparent in his voice as he rolled his eyes. 

Furrowing your brows, you couldn’t believe that he would ask something like that. “Yes, at every appointment, and sometimes I text—“ You were abruptly cut off, the anxiety ate away at you, making you chip your nail polish. 

"I just think you’re being dramatic. Honestly, I think you’re the one who's making this relationship go without trust,” He hammered in on his accusations. The kitchen light flickered as a few beats of silence passed between you two. 

The absolute quietude in the house was almost deafening. The living room TV wasn't on; no soft music, nothing. No noise except the small buzzing from the refrigerator that you have always, always hated.

You took a deep breath and tried to collect your thoughts, you followed the steps your therapist gave you for moments like this. 

“Kuroo, where were you tonight? You’re home extremely later than you said.” You purse your lips, wanting to know, but the ache in your stomach was becoming too much. At this point, it hurt to love him, to question him. You knew what he would say, you could probably even guess the exact words that would come out of his mouth.

His taller frame stood across the kitchen; the usual loving eyes now turned cold and hard and it was all directed at you.

“At the office, I was working.” He snarled, “Oh, you think I’m fucking someone at my job now, huh?” He raised his voice, your eyes widening at the thoughts your mind crept to, but you wanted to discuss it first. Wanted to calmly talk about it, this is what your therapist told you to do. 

“No, Kuroo, I don’t think anything; I didn’t say anything like that. "All I said was that I had a feeling and I wanted to talk with you about it.” This is what your therapist had specifically told you to do; you could feel the crease between your eyebrows becoming more apparent with every sharp word Kuroo said. 

“Oh yeah, because I’m totally cheating on you. I told you that last time would never happen again; why are you having these ‘feelings’?” He rudely said, as if you didn't notice the signs.

The late nights, the alcohol on his breath, the lack of physical intimacy with you, the ruffled, messy state of his clothes and hair. It was painfully obvious at this point. You felt ashamed for not saying something sooner. 

“..There was just one night where you came home smelling like another woman and I—I just don’t know Kuroo. I wanted to make sure that last time wasn’t happening again.” You averted your gaze, not being able to stand the hatred in your boyfriend's eyes. You felt small against his larger frame and even larger, hurtful words. 

“Ha! Isn’t that something? You’re probably cheating on me with how much you work from home.” He dryly chuckled, throwing accusations as if they were sharpened knives now. 

“Kuroo, why aren’t you listening? You saying things like that hurt me, you know? I've been faithful since we agreed to be in this relationship. I'm just worried that history is repeating itself.” You try to get his attention back on the topic; he just wasn't listening to you.

You could feel your eyes starting to water, the buildup of arguing, the ache in your stomach, and the painful incriminations he was throwing. It was beyond hurtful, it ached.

“You’re delusional if you think you smelled another woman on me. There was no one at the office; nothing has happened since last April; nothing.” The bellowing of his voice was meant to try and beckon you to listen to him. And you were finally silent; you knew your pathetic voice would waver if you said something, anything right now. 

You watched Tetsuro open a bottle of alcohol, not caring that he just openly hurt your feelings without any regard to how you might actually feel and didn’t try to console you either. 

Opening your mouth to try and say something to reason with him, you couldn’t even say a singular syllable. 

“Just fucking drop it,” He muttered before trying to slide past you into the cupboard to find something to eat. 

"I’m leaving you.” Your voice harrowingly got out, and you glared at the floor, hating that you got dealt these shitty cards. You carefully took off the promise ring that you now realize was nothing more than just an empty promise and set it on the cold counter. 

"Fine, you'll realize that you're the problem. The toxic, insecure, crazy one and then come crawling back to me,” He said without a hint of remorse; you knew though. You knew that he wasn't your caring, sweet, helpful boyfriend anymore; he was someone's. And you damn sure were not going to fight for him. 

You watched as he left the house through the back door; you didn’t bother to check Life360 as you probably knew where he was going. You were right, unfortunately yet again. 

Not being able to take the heartbreak, you decided to pack. You wanted to leave this home; you wished Kuroo made you happy like he did in the beginning of the relationship, but instead all he does is make you stressed and upset. 

You gather your at-home work supplies, main toiletries, important documents, sentimentals, and clothes to last you three whole weeks. You could replace everything else; hell, you were a working woman, not some rando he could kick to the street to make you fend for yourself.

You figured he’d clear out the rest of your things before he invited his new girl here. 

You carefully put your personal belongings in your car before leaving the key to the house under the front door mat. You decided to take a few minutes to give yourself a cry; you needed it. Your entire life of what you thought you knew was completely destroyed within thirty minutes; you had to cry or else you wouldn't be okay. 

When you pulled out of the driveway, you called Kenma from your car. Kenma has been your best friend since college; he actually introduced you and Kuroo to each other.

And look how that turned out. Although, you had hardly spoken to him in a few because Kuroo cut off your contact with anyone that wasn’t him—mostly any male. 

Once the dialing ended, Kenma picked up. You tried to gather what to say in a few short moments, watching the streetlamps pass you by as you drove.

“Can I stay at your place for a few days?” You asked before he could ever say 'hello'. You cringed at your voice, which was raspy from the argument and the tears you shed. 

“Oh, yeah, sure. What happened?" Concern laced Kenma's voice for you; he was always so observant of your emotional state. But then again, you did sound horrible right now. 

“Kuroo cheated on me again; I left him this time; I should've—I just should’ve left the first instead.” You tried to keep it together and not have to pull over and cry about the situation. 

There was silence over the phone for a few minutes except the small sniffles and clearing of your throat. "I’m sorry, Y/n. You deserve better than someone who easily breaks your heart like this.” You could tell that Kenma felt guilty because he was the one who set the both of you up on a date.

"I’m sorry that I’m going to crash at your place to get my life together; I know I’m a lot.” You sighed, parking in his driveway. His house was as huge as ever; living the rich life did suit him though. 

“No, you’re not a lot. Things happen, and I’m glad I’m someone you can lean on.” He genuinely reassured you, peeking out of the living room curtains and seeing your headlights, then ending the phone call.

You gathered your things and headed inside to Kenma's house, not having been here in a couple. It was just as admirable as the first time you were here.

“Were you just streaming right now?" You called in the house curiously; you could hear gaming sounds in the background of the phone call, they were much too familiar to listen to. 

Kenma came from around the corner of the kitchen; he was in his typical comfortable merch that he made. His hair was pulled back, and he had a bowl of curry in his hand. 

He paused, taking your form just like you did to him, except he was wary of your blotchy face and red eyes. 

"..Yeah—yeah, I was. But don’t feel bad; I was supposed to get something to eat anyway.” He half smiled at you, a small crinkle in his eyes. 

“You can make yourself comfortable in any room in the house; I'm going to finish my stream. If you need me, you know where to find me.” He turned away from you with a glance that you didn't see as you got familiar with his home again. 

“Thanks, Ken,” You mumbled as he was already gone. You were going straight for the room that has always brought you comfort—Kenma's bedroom.

Collapsing on his fluffy bed was the highlight of your night, letting the feelings of the breakup wash over you. You knew that it would be something you'd bring up with your therapist this week; she would help you and talk you through your mind process like she always did. 

Your eyes wandered as you controlled your breathing, grounding yourself with the distant memory that you last had about Kenma's room. It was always your safe space back then. You sighed and rolled over onto your back.

After lounging around and letting your emotions process thoroughly, you finally got up, the heartache from the past few hours still fresh. 

"I didn’t expect you would pick my room, but that’s okay. It brings back memories of our sleepovers.” Kenma's voice rang out, opening his black-painted bedroom door, effectively startling you, which made you jump. 

You regained your posture and gave a small, worried smile. “Are you sure? I can leave. Sorry, this just, just brings me comfort, you know?” You softly smiled, gazing around the room that you both would always share. 

Back then, if Kenma hadn't introduced you to Kuroo, you would have probably confessed to him. The thought made your eyes widen a bit, and you blinked it to the back of your mind because anything else could come of it. 

He leaned on the door frame and said, "No, it’s okay for you to stay. Were you about to sleep or something?” He raised a brow, not knowing that you planned to sleep with him. Nevertheless, he didn't care because, after all, he's missed you. 

You winced, not fond of the idea of sleep right now. “Not really. I know I shouldn’t mess up my sleep schedule like this, but life kind of got in the way." You dryly chuckled, gathering your comfortable clothes that you would usually sleep in at your now-old home. 

You sighed with despair, not being able to keep it in. The silence only egged you on as Kenma waited, his gaze only on you.

"I just keep feeling sorry for myself. How I should’ve been stronger to leave instead of being so lenient with him cheating on me so easily.” You were getting teary-eyed again, hating the situation you could've left from but didn't.

A soothing voice and an even more soothing hand surrounded your senses, trying to calm you. “That's normal. You thought you could trust again, so you tried it, and he proved you wrong. It just shows that you both weren’t compatible, a shitty thing for me to say, but I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you; you know me.” You could even hear the smile in his voice at that last part.

However, you were oblivious to the painstakingly ache in his posture due to the guilt of him putting you through that. 

“Yeah, I do. Thank you for always being honest with me. I really appreciate it, Kenma. It means a lot. You’re practically the only person I trust—to always give me the truth.” You paused at that bit, realizing how awfully true it was. 

“Always. I don't think I’d lie about anything; I don’t really see a point in it.” Kenma pondered out loud before going to light a few candles and turn on a warm-colored lamp for you since you’d be in here.

“Don’t worry about finding someplace to go yet. It’s okay for you to recuperate from life for a few days first.” He finished, his kindness for you glaringly obvious, but that's all you took it for, was kindness. You nodded, physically there but mentally not. 

“What are you doing?” Broke you out of your trance-like state; staring at a computer screen for hours on end didn't do your eyesight any good.

“Working..” You mumbled out, knowing he was able to scold you about this. You never stayed up late to do work, to party, to drink, anything. You felt like you were boring and this was a way to combat it, especially with you feeling guilty for yourself.

“Why? You’ve had like three hours of sleep; I thought you were going to recuperate from life.” Kenma asked, he had noticed that you were knocked out earlier. He came into his room to check up on you, but you were sound asleep, peacefully. Knowing you were finally safe from harm in any way made him feel good inside. 

"I tried; it didn’t work.” You turned back to your screen, wheeling around in Kenma’s office chair. You didn’t bother pretending like you didn’t know what you could and could not touch or act new with him. 

“Have you thought about trying harder?” He snorted, but he genuinely cared about your wellbeing right now. He flicked on the above light, it was better than nothing right now, he also cared about your eyes. 

"I’m only joking Y/n. want me to stay here with you or at least bring you something?” You saw his reflection on the screen, being able to notice his change of clothes now that you were sitting in complete darkness with the only light from your computer shining. 

“No, I’m fine.” You said, earning yourself a squint from Kenma, not that you could see it as you were still typing away.

“You’ve been here at my house for almost eight hours and have yet to eat or drink something. Restricting your body from things like that as a poor coping mechanism isn’t healthy.” He scolded, being actually serious. Ironic how he learned that from his best friend in high school, however, Kenma wasn’t even sure he wanted to call Kuroo his best friend after what happened tonight.

"I—I know that, I wasn’t going to.” You stammered, trying to think of an excuse with him standing right there, taking a few small steps to further his point. “Okay, maybe I was going to, but now I obviously won’t.” You rolled your eyes, not bothering to lie to him. 

"I’ll bring you something, and then we’ll see if you change your mind about working.” He patted your head like he used to, it brought you back to an easier life, a simpler life where you were actually happy and didn’t live your life anxiously. 

Being with Kenma was like breathing, it was simple. 

You didn’t feel insecure because you didn’t have make up on, or that you cried, or probably didn't look the best right now. Kenma wasn’t Kuroo, Kenma cared. 

You knew he always had and probably always would. It was beyond palliating to know that Kenma cared about the important things like whether you were okay, if you had eaten or drank anything, if you needed someone to support you emotionally or help you vent.

He didn’t care about the other things like pressuring you to always look perfect or to stray out of your comfort zone for business parties with people who made you uncomfortable. 

That brought you back to the present. “This, my god, this is so good Kenma. I'm stuffed.” You groaned at the last bite of the delicious meal Kenma made you. The pristine glass plates that Kenma knew you loved, he plated your food on that like he always used to do when you stayed over.

"I’m glad you like it. You can have the recipe if you want it.” He offered, sitting comfortably on the extra chair he pulled up so he could make sure you ate and finished the meal. 

“That’d be perfect, thank you.” You smiled an actual happy smile, you loved when Kenma did things for you without you having to ask. 

“How do you feel now?” He took your plate in his hands, standing up and wiping off the desk with your unused napkin. You watched him and yawned before responding. 

“Kind of sleepy; I just want to lay down or something.” You mumbled, rubbing your sleepy eyes, your body finally going into relaxation after he had pulled you out of the state you were in. 

“Told you.” Kenma pointedly said, “Go on, I’ll shut this stuff down for you.” He resisted the urge to kiss on your temple, watching your figure sleepy shuffle into the hallway. 

“Thank you, Kennie.” You sleepily said before leaving, hoping he would come sleep with you too, you missed those nights. The gloamings you spent with him was comforting, you wished you didn’t trade that up for someone like Kuroo who hardly ever wanted to be away from work for you. 

That night, you went to bed sound asleep. Unfortunately, Kenma couldn’t bring himself to 

“You make me feel like my breakup wasn’t the end of the world.”

“That’s because it wasn’t the end of the world. How long have you gone without basic human decency?” Kenma asked you, already knowing the answer to that.

Between the last few days, Kenma’s been your listener, besides your therapist, to help you overcome your breakup. The way he has cared for you without expecting anything else in return was endearing, almost too endearing that it hurt your heart.

You knew your feelings by the end of the few days of staying at Kenma’s, the feelings that came back from when you both used to be close. However, even if he was ready for you, you weren’t for him. You had to go. 

Moving the conversation along away from the awkwardness that surrounded you both, "I’m glad I got a therapist a while back because between you and her, I think I’ve helped myself a good amount from the breakup, and it’s only been almost two weeks.” You surprisingly said, grateful for the fact that you mentally checked out of the relationship a while ago but still needed to process it. 

You continued, not watching Kenma but your phone to show him. “That reminds me; I’m going to start looking for apartments so I can be out of your hair soon. You’re amazing for letting me stay so long, Ken.” Smiling, you pushed the lit up screen towards his view, showing the apartments that were way nicer than you expected. It even had an elevator! You were fondly surprised at that. 

As you kept raving about all these fancy apartments you found, occasionally scrolling through the apartment list to remember the details, you were interrupted abruptly by Kenma. 

"You can stay." Was all he said, that’s when you finally looked at him. The room seemed to still as you met eye contact with him too, in his eyes…you could tell he didn’t want you to go.

He wasn’t ready for you to leave after he finally just got you back. Unable to eventually stop you from going, he had to tell you how he felt about you leaving. 

You were speechless when it came to responding to him. Of course, you wanted to stay but it would go against what you planned, however you knew what you would say. Besides, you haven’t even put a payment in for the apartment number yet. 

Kenma scratched the back of his neck, a random habit he never got rid of when you were around. "If you'd like, it's nice to have you around more often." The tenderness in his eyes was just so familiar now to you that you just had to accept his offer.

Living with your best friend who you may have a slight simmering crush for, knowing that it was requited too wasn’t the worst idea. Quite frankly, it seemed like one of the better options at this point. 

And so, you happily agreed, you finally got the taste of comfort again and you desperately wanted to keep it. Your mind felt at peace, not racing with horrid thoughts all the time about whether or not Kenma had ill will towards you. You loved, and needed, your best friend because the nights he brought you were everything you lacked without him. 

The warmth from the lamps that he turned on every evening as soon as the sun went down because he knew you loved them. Kenma would always light a small candle or two before you both got comfortable on the bed that you now sleep in with him. He even kept your Nintendo switch that he bought for you because you expressed interest in it once.

You always wondered where it went too, however, nights with Kenma dwelled on animal crossing and your favorite sweet treat. You didn’t have to worry about restricting yourself to no end because you were told to keep your shape up.

Looking up from your switch, you watched Kenma’s concentrated face, loving the little details you could see up close, especially his blue light glasses. You also adored how he kept his hair long, sporadically putting it in a pony.

The face framing pieces of hair, that you now play with every so often, were your favorite.

“Ken…thank you, for letting me come back into your life. I wish I never left.” You paused, letting him hold eye contact with you.

“It was worth it though, because now I know.” You hinted, but didn’t say anything else. Relishing in the fact that Kenma’s response was purely just to pull you closer to him. 

a/n: requests are open! hope you like & this is all my work <3

[mikimakiboo]

Time Travelers AU - The Night Sky Is Filled With Gay Thoughts

This one is shorter than the other chapters but I really felt like Nightmare's gay panic deserved its own chapter lmao

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@ancha-aus your seat is reserved

We entering Nightmare's bitch arc ya'll

Tw: some slightly suggestive talk but nothing serious happens, self hatred of course as I am physically unable to write about Nightmare without adding angst

The moon was so high in the sky, everyone was sleeping. Everyone one except Nightmare, he had been unwell all day, since Horror came back from his hunt, he had found himself spacing out, not responding to either Killer nor Dust when they tried talking to him, having trouble concentrating enough to translate, and totally unable to look at Horror in the eyesockets. Now he was laying on his back, on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

What happened ? He had felt weird all afternoon, starting when Horror came back. He should have been horrified, the Viking came back covered in blood, holding a dead body on his shoulder, his stained weapon still in his hand. It has truly been an unsettling sight to see. He had put his axe, his blood stained axe, right next to Nightmare, and he had looked at him, planting his gaze in his, and Nightmare couldn't look anywhere else. Had he been scared ? Of course he had been scared, what kind of brute brought back his pray like that ? Still dripping with blood and without washing at least his hands ? But, he felt something new when his gaze met Horror's gaze...

He saw this brute, this man, holding a full corpse on his shoulder like it was a feather, covered in sweat and blood that wasn't his, his large hands holding an axe that looked no less heavy but that he manipulated with ease. And he felt his soul burn. He didn't know if his cheeks blushed, but he felt his whole body become hotter. When Horror left to cook he didn't know what to do, and Killer's staring at him with his grin didn't help him sort out his thoughts.

He couldn't think at all for the whole day, not participating in conversations during meals, he did his best not to look at the Viking, not to think about his hands, damaged by a hard life, about his muscular arms that could brobaly break him in half if he wanted to, hold him down and he wouldn't be able to move.

Nightmare shifted on the couch, turning his back to the living room, thinking about Horror above him and holding him down surprisingly didn't help calm his already racing soul.

Why did he feel so hot when thinking about the giant ? He shouldn't feel that way, Horror was a Viking, a brute who's only passtime was pillaging villages, killing men and kidnapping women for their own pleasure, there was nothing admirable in that. Really, thinking about Horror entering his home, breaking his belongings and take him away to keep him as a prize, a trophy, was truly terrifying. And yet he felt his face burn at the thought of being taken by him, preciously kept away as a fancy war prize for only Horror to touch and see.

That wasn't right. Horror could kill him, or worse, he could do unspeakable horrors to him, make him uffer, torture him mentally and physically, then tend to his wounds to ensure he wouldn't die, keep him safe from other pillagers, dress him with riches to show off to the other Vikings, tell him he is his and his alone, that no one else would ever put their filthy hands on him...

Nightmare got up. He needed water. He went to the bathroom, feeling like he would faint at any moment with the heat in his body. He watched the water flow for a few seconds before taking some in his hands to splash on his face until he felt cooler. He stayed bent over the sink for a while before standing straight and looking at himself in the mirror. His brother would probably laugh if he was there. Seriously, how pathetic could he be ? Losing his composure like that like he was some young lady fresh out of the coven discovering what temptation was ? He shouldn't feel that way ! He was a noble man ! He went back to lay on the couch.

He had a future planned for him, he couldn't allow himself to be distracted like that, he had to marry a noble woman, a lady with the same rank as him, and give her kids to ensure the continuity of his prestigious bloodline. That was what every noble did, that was what his mother did, what she had told him to do before passing away. He had to marry someone rich and full of virtue, love wasn't even on the table, you didn't marry out of love. His mother didn't marry out of love, there had never been any love in anything she had done, from marrying to having children, she had done everything because it was her purpose as a noble woman, not once had she felt any love for them, for her husband for whom she didn't cry at his funeral and for her two children whom she always let her servants take care of. That was just how things were supposed to work. That was what Nightmare, and Dream, were supposed to do, their glorious future.

And yet he found himself dreaming for more, dreaming of love, passion, of someone to hold tight and to be held tight by, someone to tell him he would be okay, that he didn't have to marry anyone he didn't want to, that he could let his heart chose. He tried so hard to make the wedding happen as late as possible, finding excuses to refuse the many proposals he received. He was so scarred of marriage. He didn't know why it scarred him so much, he knew he would still be free, that it was only for business purposes, that he wouldn't have to pretend to love his wife and she wouldn't have to pretend to love him either, but he would still have obligations that came with marriage. Children were a big part of this. He didn't dislike children, but he knew he would have to be intimate, he wasn't stupid, he knew how that worked, but he couldn't imagine himself doing.... that, with a woman... It was right but it felt wrong, it was the natural order of things but it didn't feel natural to him. Sure he could lie and say either him or his wife was infertile and that was why they couldn't have children, but lying about that wouldn't bring any good to their reputation, and reputation was important. No, he couldn't lie, but he couldn't do that either. It just didn't feel right...

And when he saw Horror bent over him, when he imagined him holding him, taking him away from everything he knew and making him his... everything had felt so right, so natural. He wanted him, he wanted him so bad. He didn't want to marry a woman, but he wanted to be Horror's prize, he wanted to be his precious thing, he wanted him to rock his world and softly kiss him, to tell him he could have hundreds just like him but he was the only one for him. He wanted this wicked romance. He wanted the harsh and he wanted the soft. Horror was soft. Soft and patient. He was careful around them, respected boundaries, brought back food, didn't have any vile intentions, he was only looking to care for them, for Dust particularly, as he was their unfortunate host with not enough means to provide for everyone. He was a gentle giant. A gentle giant with great strenght. Nightmare wanted that.

He hated himself for wanting that. His mother would have hated him too if she was still alive. She had always hated him anyways. He shouldn't feel that. It wasn't proper for a noble. He was such a disgrace, a pathetic excuse of a noble, no wonder he always felt out of place among his pairs, he couldn't do things right, he couldn't even feel right.

He grabbed a pillow to press it against his chest, laying down facing the back of the couch. He wanted to dissapear, to go back home and never see any of them ever again, to talk to his brother, Dream always knew what to do, he was always right, never out of place, he was everything Nightmare wasn't. But he wasn't there, and Nightmare was alone to face these atrocious feelings.

He hated it. He hated Horror for making him feel so good and so bad at the same time and he hated himself for allowing these feelings to take roots in his soul and for feeding them with his overthinking.

He just hated himself so much right now. He hated how he felt and he hated that he was crying again. It was the only thing he was good at sometimes. Crying.

He was pathetic.

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

Stuck on the Past | Part 8

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You never thought you'd see Bradley Bradshaw again, especially the way things ended between the two of you. So what happens when he's suddenly back for a special mission and is determined to win you back too?

Warnings: Angst (ish), adult language, drinking

Length: 1.8k

Stuck on the Past masterlist

"We need to talk."

Bradley stood in front of you, his heart pounding and slightly breathless from jogging up the stairs to your door. As soon as he'd docked, he'd sped towards your apartment, probably running a few red lights along the way. He knew he probably looked tired and he was still in his flight suit, but you were the only thing on his mind. He didn't have time to waste. He didn't know what he was going to say or do, he just knew he had to see you and the right words would find him. Hopefully.

When he pulled up outside your building, his first thought was that you wouldn't buzz him in, so he couldn't believe his luck when April opened the the main entrance at the same time he'd been walking towards it.

She saw him immediately and had held the door open tentatively, almost guarding the building, looking him up and down, before sighing, "Great timing, she's upstairs." He nodded quickly and moved to walk in, but she stopped him, her voice stern, "Don't fuck it up this time, Bradshaw."

"I wont." he said quickly, as he held her stare. Eventually, April nodded, and stood aside to let him in. "Thank you." he said, before jogging in the direction of your door.

Once he was stood outside, he wasted no time in knocking. But when you answered almost instantly, he realised he still hadn't thought of what he was going to say, so he settled on, "We need to talk."

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw him, "Bradley?"

"I'm here." he huffed, "Can I come in? Please?"

You bit your lip nervously and nodded, cautiously letting him inside. He walked into your living room and frowned as he saw the boxes scattered across the floor. His eyes flicked from box to box as you said, "Ignore all the boxes, I'm-"

"Are you moving?" he quickly turned to face you.

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes, "It's a long story-"

"But you didn't write the article?" Bradley took a few steps towards you, his head spinning as he hoped you were just moving to a new place somewhere close by.

You shook your head, "No. I didn't write it." You watched as Bradley glanced at all the boxes again, "I got another job... In Washington. My flight leaves tomorrow."

His eyes met yours once again. He paused, before shaking his head, "No. You're not leaving."

You frowned, "Bradley, I'm sorry about what happened but-"

"No." he said, taking another step towards you, "You're not leaving. You can't." he paused, "I almost died out there. I almost died so I can't... I won't waste anymore time on- on running, running from us, from... being happy." he ran a hand through his hair, "You make me happy. That's the bottom line. I want that for the rest of my life and I know you do too."

"Bradley..." you sighed.

"I've been in love with you since the minute I saw you," he continued, "and you know what? Through all the deployments and moving, that's the only constant thing in my life. Whether we're together or we're not, it doesn't matter because I love you." he rambled, "When I first saw you, at the Hard Deck, I couldn't believe my luck. It's like I was being given another chance to do things right. I thought... it was like, fate or something."

You felt a lump in your throat as he continued, "And when- when I found out about the article, I was upset, you know, I was pissed." he huffed, "But I was more angry with myself. I was angry because I screwed us up, you were right, okay? I ran." he stepped forward and gently placed his hand on your cheek, "But I'm not that person anymore, I'm not scared anymore, I want you. All of you. I want cheesy movies and late night talking, I want you to beat me at pool every single time we play." he chuckled, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, "I love you. I always have and sweetheart, that's just the way it's always going to be. So you're not leaving. You can't."

Bradley let out a tense breath and watched you closely as he waited for you to say something. He didn't think he'd been that honest with anyone in years, but there was no way in hell he could lose you a second time.

Your eyes drifted from his and towards the floor, "Bradley.." you sighed and finally met his eyes, "You were the love of my life and I... I think about you all the time, but-"

"No," he muttered, "No buts, please-"

You shook your head and took a step back from him, "You and I... We don't work. We might have worked for a little while back then, but that was years ago. Things are different now, I'm different and I can't-" you took a breath, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill, "I can't put myself through loving you again. Not when it's bound to end the same way."

"Sweetheart-"

"I think you should leave." you crossed your arms, wanting to look strong, clam and collected, when really all you wanted was to run to him and tell him everything was fine. You knew, however, that you couldn't, that you needed a fresh start, that it was the rational thing to do.

Bradley said nothing. The most he could do was give you a small and curt nod, before quietly leaving your apartment.

That was when you let the tears come.

It was the next morning, while waiting to board your flight, that he called you. You'd spent all night second guessing your decision, going to call him and then switching your phone off, you'd practically forced yourself through the airport. It was times like these when you wished you had some sort of angel or something to tell you what to do, whether you should make the smart decision or the reckless one. You watched as he called, deciding ultimately not to pick up, since it was almost boarding time anyways, but you couldn't resist listening to the voicemail he'd left you.

You found a quiet corner of the airport and pressed play.

Hey, uh, I was just going to call to say that I hope you have a safe flight.

There was a pause.

Okay, no, I know that's what I should be saying but-

You heard him groan.

If by some miracle you listen to this before you get on the plane, could you just do one thing for me? Switch off your brain for a second. You've always been smart, way smarter than me, but I need you to just.. not be, just for a minute.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you carried on listening.

I want you to listen to your heart for a sec. I know it sounds cheesy sweetheart, but I need you to think about how you feel. If you don't love me, go ahead and get on that plane, and I promise you, I will never bother you again. But if you do...

You heard him sigh.

I'm gonna be waiting for you tonight at the Hard Deck. If you don't come by 11... then I'll know, and I'll try to move on, even though my heart is and will always be yours. Goodbye sweetheart.

The line cut off and you stared at your phone screen for what felt like forever, until a voice echoed through the airport.

"Flight 731 to Washington is now boarding. All passengers on flight 731 to Washington, your flight is now boarding."

-

Bradley sat at the bar of the Hard Deck and checked his watch for the eighth time, 10.46. He sighed and glanced around the bar again, feeling stupid, because for all he knew, you hadn't even got the voicemail and had maybe even already landed in Washington.

He tapped his fingers against the bar top, quickly turning when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but sighing when it was only Mav. He sat down on the stool next to him, clearing his throat, "You okay?"

Although the two men had spoken a bit about their past and were on their way to mending things, it was still slightly awkward between them. Bradley shrugged a little and took a sip of his beer, "I'm, uh, I'm waiting for someone, who I'm not sure is even gonna show up." he grunted.

Mav grinned a little, "Is this 'someone' a girl, by any chance?" Bradley nodded as he continued, "Well, I've never had the best luck with women," he chuckled, "but you want my advice? Trust the universe."

Bradley snorted, "Never took you for a spiritual guy, Mav."

Mav grinned and shrugged, patting Bradley's back as he stood, "I'm not, but in my experience, the universe always has a plan." He began to walk away but paused, "Why don't you help me fix up a plane I've been working on this weekend? Keep ya busy."

Bradley slowly began to nod, "Sure, we can do that."

Maverick smiled, giving him another pat before walking away. Bradley noticed Penny hadn't been around the bar in a while, and it dawned on him that Mav may have been there waiting for someone to show up too.

He shook his head and chugged the rest of his beer, checking his watch again, 10.59. He sighed, standing up and leaving the bar, strolling towards his bronco, ready to head home and sleep off his sadness. When he looked up to see his car in the distance, he noticed something.

Someone was leaning against the passenger door.

His footsteps quickened and once he was a few steps away he let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

There you were, effortlessly beautiful in jeans and white t-shirt, hair down and moving with the breeze, and your eyes were on him. Exactly the way Bradley knew it should be.

As he got closer he grinned, "You're late."

You smiled and took a few steps towards him, "Shut up and kiss me Bradley."

You could deny it all you wanted but realistically, you knew. As soon as you saw him at your doorstep, hell, from the night you'd seen him at the Hard Deck, he had you. So, even if it wasn't the smart thing to do, or maybe it was, you didn't care. Bradley reached forward and grabbed your waist, his lips quickly finding yours as your hands made their way up to his hair. The kiss was gentle yet passionate, full of words that neither of you had the guts to say over the years you'd been apart. It was right then, as he kissed you against the backdrop of the sea, that you knew you'd done the right thing.

It almost felt like you were both young again, because nothing had changed. Not really.

When you both pulled away for air, he rested his forehead against yours. Of course there were conversations you both needed to have with each other, things to work out, but for now that could wait.

"I love you. So much." Bradley muttered against your lips.

You knew any important conversations didn't matter, because you'd both chosen each other and right now, that was enough.

"I love you too, Bradley."

---

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I might do an epilogue for these two but I'm not sure yet - let me know if its something you'd wanna read!

[muldj0rd]

My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the great war || Princess Cake

Summary: If he was asked which year was the worst, Nico would answer 2016. Sure, he won the championship, but at what cost?

Warnings: Anal, anal fingering, comfort sex, top Jenson, bottom Nico, do I classify this as angst?

Masterlist || AO3

If he was asked which year was the worst, Nico would answer 2016. Sure, he won the championship, but at what cost?

---

Spain 2016 After a hours long debrief, being forced to be in the same room with Lewis whom he can't even look in the eye anymore, Nico just wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep until late tomorrow, catch his flight and sleep even more when he got back home in Monaco

So when he walked to the parking lot outside of the paddock, seeing Jenson stand by his car, he groaned but was slightly confused as well. Why would Jenson stay so long just to talk to him?

"Why did you stay so long? Haven't you heard of a phone?" Nico asked, trying to joke, but he was too exhausted to give a smile

"We are going out" Jenson said with a smile that seemed to never leave his pretty face

"Really not in the mood, Jense" Nico sighed, shifting on his feet

"Alright. I'll find some beers and come to your hotel room" He suggested instead, quite determined

Nico was about to speak, but Jenson cut him off "No argument" Nico chuckled softly "I also kinda need a ride. Was supposed to drive with Nando's, but I told him to go ahead"

"Sure" Nico laughed softly, shaking his head slightly, amused by Jenson's eagerness to talk to him

---

Both Nico and Jenson was sitting up against the headboard by each others side, just with Nico's head placed on the Brit's shoulder, both holding a can of Spanish beer

"I appreciate it 'n all, but why are you here and not with Lewis? You were teammates after all" Nico turned his head to look up at Jenson, his alcohol-affected mind not realising how close it made them

Jenson sighed softly, neither realising their closeness "Sure, me and Lewis were teammates and are close friends, but please, mate. I re-watched the crash, it's obviously Lewis's fault. I'm not letting you suffer alone and in silence"

Jenson fiddled with Nico's hair that had grown slightly out. He should cut it. He liked it a little longer, but after Lewis had called him a faggot, he started cutting more often. Sure, Nico was a faggot- Lewis was too, so he knew he didn't mean anything about it, but it still hurt him slightly

Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood, but Nico blushed at Jenson's words and touch. He turned his head away, putting his beer can on the nightstand, using it as an excuse to hide the blush from Jenson

"Thank you" He muttered softly, laying his head back against Jenson's shoulder, hoping he had turned his head the right way so Jenson wouldn't see his red cheeks

Jenson chuckled softly, putting his own beer on the nightstand beside him "You're not very subtle, mate"

"Shut up" Nico hid his now redder face in his hands, curling his body into himself, but also resulting in curling further into Jenson's side

"Come on, mate. Don't be embarrassed about it" Jenson chuckled, his hand subconsciously laying on Nico's thigh, his thumb making small circles

Nico's body stiffened, his breathing hitching slightly. He removed his hands from his face, turning his head to look up at Jenson with wide eyes

Don't. He's just a friend. Don't. You'll ruin your friendship. Don't- Nico's mind went blank when he leaned forward, kissing Jenson

Much to Nico's surprise, Jenson kissed back, even holding him close by the back of his head, his fingers tangling in his blond locks

The kiss quickly became messy- all tongue and spit. Nico straddled Jenson's thighs, his hands fisting in the front of the Brit's shirt

"Nico" Jenson tugged softly at Nico's hair, pulling him slightly back, making him whine "We're both affected and not thinking straight. We'll regret it in the morning" They were both panting heavily

Nico whined again "I want this- I need this- I need you"

"I know, I know. I want you too, but we shouldn't" Jenson almost whispered, one hand on Nico's waist, the other caressing his jaw

---

Monaco Jenson walked up to Nico doing the driver's parade, looking away from him and crossed his arms over his chest "Did it happen?"

Nico sighed, shifting on his feet "No" He shrugged softly

"We good?" Jenson asked, looking at Nico

"Yeah" Nico nodded softly, but his voice sounded questionable

"Good" Jenson sighed relieved

---

Nico knocked hesitantly on Jenson's hotel door, not breathing as he heard Jenson move around inside

"He's mad at me" Nico sighed as the door got opened

Jenson sighed "He's been mad at you since Spain"

"It was supposed to be his win" Nico's shoulders were slumped

"You wanna come in?" Jenson asked, stepping to the side so Nico could walk in "I promise there's no beers" Nico chuckled softly before he stepped inside

"I thought that didn't happen?" Nico smiled softly, turning to Jenson once he had closed the door

"It didn't" Jenson didn't smile, but there was a special sparkle in his eyes

Nico's smile faded "You affected?" He asked softly but hopeful

"No" Jenson shook his head slightly "You?"

Nico shook his head softly "No"

They were on each other immediately, hands all over each other. They had both gotten their shirts off when Jenson had guided them over to the bed, pushing Nico softly onto it

Nico's hands went to his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but he didn't get far when Jenson pinned both his wrists above his head in one hand, his lips mouthing at his collarbone, his other hand unbuckling Nico's belt with no problem

The German's quiet whimpers and whines turned into a breathy moan while his back arched slightly when Jenson had pulled down his zipper, palming him through his briefs, chuckling low- a sound that made all his blood go south, making him impossibly harder

"Jense" Nico whined needy, his hips moving against Jenson's hand, feeling himself leak into his briefs

Jenson gave one last lick to Nico's collarbone before he leaned up to Nico's ear "Get naked" Nico swore he could come just from the sound of Jenson's lust-filled voice

Jenson let go of Nico's wrists, standing up from the bed to walk over to his suitcase. When he came back to the bed with a bottle of lube in his hand, Nico was fully naked and laying on his back, his skin flushed a deep red

"God, you're pretty" Jenson smirked slightly, spreading and bending Nico's legs so he could be in between them, his action drawing a needy whimper out of the German

Nico whimpered as he saw and heard Jenson pour lube on his fingers, slowly warming it up, his other hand caressing the inside of Nico's thigh, making his breathing heavier

Jenson leaned down, kissing Nico softly, drowning his soft moan as Jenson's fingers circled his hole

Nico pulled back from the kiss, his eyes shut tight and his teeth in his bottom lip as Jenson slowly pushed a single finger inside

"Come on, let me hear you, love" Jenson said softly, his thumb pulling down on Nico's bottom lip, letting it slip out between his teeth

Jenson slowly moved his finger, making Nico gasp and whine softly "There you go" Jenson chuckled slightly, his finger going slightly faster

Nico moaned softly when Jenson slowly pushed in a second finger, giving him time before slowly moving again

Nico's back arched sharply, a loud moan ripping from his throat, and his nails digging into Jenson's back as he curled his fingers, hitting his prostate

"Please, please, please. Need you, Jense. Need you so bad" Nico stopped to moan as Jenson curled his fingers again- a little harder this time, also making Nico's moan louder, his thighs already starting to shake slightly, pre-cum leaking onto his stomach

Jenson slowly pulled his fingers out of Nico, earning him a whine as Nico felt empty, his thigh getting sticky when Jenson wiped his fingers on his skin

Jenson got off of the bed, getting rid of his own pants and briefs, getting back in between Nico's legs, stroking himself a few times, getting the lube properly smeared all over himself

Nico whimpered as he felt the tip of Jenson's cock press against his hole, his hands immediately flying to the Brit's waist, trying to pull him closer

"It's cute how eager you are" Jenson chuckled, which quickly turned into a soft groan as he slowly pushed himself into Nico, stopping every few inches to let him adjust, a soft moan coming from Nico's lips

Nico pulled Jenson down to kiss him "Move" He mumbled against his wet and soft lips. The lips that had been the only thing on his mind since they kissed in Spain

Jenson did a few experimental thrusts before setting a slow and steady pace. He pushed his arm under Nico's shoulder, his hand curled in his hair, his other arm around his hips, lifting them slightly off the bed, angling them just right to hit his prostate

Nico's moans weren't deafening- they would if Jenson moved faster and harder, he didn't though. The slow pace was enough for both of them. They weren't in no rush. They didn't have sex out of anger or jealousy. Nico wanted to feel Jenson close, Jenson wanted to comfort Nico

Nico's arms were swung around Jenson's shoulders, trying to pull him closer, but his arms were too weak. He tried to move his legs around Jenson's hips, determined to pull him closer, but they too were too weak to move

Nico thought to himself earlier that he could come just by the sound of Jenson's voice. He proved himself right when his body shook, coming after a series of Jenson's praises in his ear

The feeling of Nico clenching around Jenson so tightly, gave him only a few more sloppy thrusts before he came inside Nico with a soft moan of his name

They both panted heavily for a few seconds before Jenson pulled out, but still laid down softly on top of Nico, feeling his cum stick to his stomach- It didn't matter in this moment. He was close to Nico, and that all what matters. He had hopefully comforted Nico to forget the race

"We should retire at the end of the season, give us more time to spend every single day together" Nico suggested it as a joke, but Jenson's agreement wasn't

[coconutdays]

drunk pt. 2

s. this is part two to this original post! my attempt at a mutual pining ??? slowburn??? with the Honored One, Gojo. Y'all fuck after one of those intense movie confession scenes yada yada.

w.c. 7.2k

w. fem! reader , gojo! x reader , fluff! , angst! , slowburn! , smut! ( I think the slowburn is lowk angsty in my opinion) y/n’s cursed technique is basically like Wanda from marvels abilities, I didn't proofread much srry, btw this is my first time executing a fully fledged fuck so bare with me I tried.

You had only minutely interacted with Satoru ever since that day you went cursed spirit hunting with him. It was normal, nothing was weird or out of the ordinary after, but everything seemed so dull in comparison to that day. Although you could say there was less of a chance to speak when he did go overseas for a couple of days. And you were partially grateful that it was like that. You couldn't fret over your feelings for him if he wasn't feeding you anything to reminisce on.

On one of your minuscule interactions with the famed sorcerer, he asked you to take his newbie first years to a cursed mansion while he would be busy scouring Spain for a key that did who knows what.

Which leads to the current situation at hand.

"What happened here?" Yuuji asks, kicking a stray pebble a few feet away and into the bushes

"The owner of this place slit the throats of everyone in the mansion at night, then shot himself in the head." You squinted at one of the far off windows of the mansion, spotting something that would have most likely been a cursed spirit.

"Gross." Nobara's face turns into one of disgust.

"What level cursed spirit does it have?" It's Megumi asking now

You turn to look at all of them, a glint in your eyes.

"Grade 1"

"WHAT?" Nobara stomps her foot, "Why is Gojo sending us out here on sui-"

"I'm here." You laugh, a red flame swirls around your irises, "I'm the second strongest after Gojo. Give me some credit."

"Gojo gives her most of his missions if he suddenly can't do them." Megumi points out, "We're safe."

"Not entirely." You shift your weight onto one of your hips and cross your arms, "I'm here to intervene if things start going south, which I hope they don't, but under the situation it does then I step in."

That was twenty minutes ago, and things had gone south.

You were ambushed by more than one Special grade in the mansion and left the three first-years to deal with a cursed spirit much akin to the one described in the correction facility that lead to Yuuji's death. The others were almost alike to it, but they were starting to speak, forming words more coherently by the minute.

"What the fuck."

There were four surrounding you, and the only reason they weren't going for the first-years was because you sealed them into the top floor with you. You would have rather dealt with this by yourself, considering you had to hold back because the first years were in the floor beneath you, but you'd have to make do with your seal.

Much to your surprise, halfway through your fight, you could hear the sounds of relief from the first-years and one less screeching curse.

Good, they exorcised it.

Both of your hands were busy repelling your opponents away from you as you neared the staircase so they could hear you.

"GO OUTSIDE! NOW!"

"But you're dealing with four of them!" Nobara started, "If you-"

"JUST WAIT FOR ME OUTSIDE! AND CALL IJICHI!"

You could hear Nobara starting to protest, but you could make out the grumbles of Megumi to place trust in you.

When you got a peek through the window of Yuuji's pink hair, you let out a sigh of relief. You didn't have to hold back anymore, but you weren't going to be able to be the one to take the first-years back to Jujutsu Tech after this.

What you considered the cursed energy equivalent of an atomic bomb was what you released within the enclosed top floor. You concentrated on it breaking apart the curses and squeezing them out of existence--much like a bomb would.

However, the aftermath would be something you'd leave the first years up to. You didn't have to hold back within the confines of the mansion, none of the students were in there, but they were directly outside, waiting for you in a position where contact with the explosion would hurt them. The moment you release your technique, the confines the mansion burst, pulverizing the curses out of existence and subjecting you to the sheer force of your cursed energy being concentrated into one subjectively small enclosed space.

Your cursed energy treated you like shrapnel and launched you headfirst into the concrete ground near the first-years. It was the last thing you remembered before everything after started fading in and out.

You were in the back of Ijichi's car, at the center with Megumi and Yuuji on either side, grabbing at your body. Why were they--

Oh, there's gaping wounds on your stomach and legs.

Nobara is frantically turning to look back from the front passenger seat again and again.

"Drive faster Ijichi!"

Maybe you could start using your cursed technique to heal-

"Oh fuck!" Yuuji starts

You start coughing violently into your lap

Was that blood from your wounds or-

"Ow."

It's the first thing you utter when you wake up, feeling an intense soreness all over your body. They're mere action of lifting up a finger sending shock bolts through your body.

"Finally someone's awake." Shoko sighs carelessly, she's on her phone looking through who knows what.

"How long have I been out?" You groan, closing your eyes to mentally prepare for her to say 3 days or something along those lines.

"Two weeks." She gets up and walks to serve you some water as your eyes shoot open, "Constricting a nuclear explosion to only the confines of a mansion was not a smart decision."

You lean up against your pillows and start to rub your sore neck, "The first-years were right outside of the mansion. I had no other choice."

"Still not your best moment." She blinks tiredly, her careless look on her face.

"How are they anyway?"

"Fine. Small cuts and bruises. They were fine by the end of the day. Gojo's got them in the classroom right now."

"He's back from Spain already?"

"He came back the day after the mansion incident. Thought you would've remembered him poking your head to see if you could hear him this morning." She started to write on a chart, probably yours.

"I don't." You start to look through your faint memories to see if it held onto anything like that.

Nothing.

"Well, you should be fine to go home already." Shoko starts to walk out of your room, raising the chart she was just scribbling on moments ago, "You check out just fine. Get some rest before they probably send you on another mission by tomorrow."

By the time you put on some clothes, provided by Shoko, and take a shower at your place to soothe your muscles, it's been a few hours, leaving Gojo to stare at an empty infirmary bed, your scent lingering in the room.

"She woke up a couple hours ago, must be home already." Shoko mindlessly says as she walks back to her office with a stack of folders in her arms.

After your shower, you're on your couch watching a comfort show of yours while you snack on some ice cream to wallow your feelings in. The reason for your being upset quite obvious.

He should've known you were awake by now. Why wasn't he checking on you.

It annoyed you, both the fact that for someone who had been at your bedside this morning, he hadn't shown up to receive you in your awake state, and that you cared so much you started thinking like his girlfriend.

Satoru didn't owe it to you to come see you. He wasn't yours to be obliged and neither were you his to expect it.

But fuck if you couldn't help checking your phone every five minutes to see if he'd text or call you. Hell, you'd love for him to show up announced any moment.

He didn't though.

You went to sleep upset that night--mostly at him--it wasn't his fault for not showing up, but your heart couldn't help but be disappointed by his lack of presence.

You got called in by Jujutsu High to help train the second-years the following day. A mission with five special grades seemed more appealing when you considered the fact that you'd more than likely see Satoru once there.

"Look who's awake."

Gojo is suddenly walking next to you as you lead the second-years to the sparring grounds. He doesn't look in your direction, merely facing ahead, but he has that same unbothered smile on his face--it bugs you.

He releases a handsome chuckle before starting again, "You drool a little when you're knocked out. Did ya know that?"

"No, I didn't, Satoru." You exhale, distracting yourself by looking for a nice spot to have the students duel.

"It's quite--"

"Shut up Gojo, we have to spar."

Both of you turn to see Makki scowling at the object of most people's irritation, including yours. She's ready to fight, earnestly tugging at the straps of her bag of weapons.

"You pain me, Makki," He grins, fixing his posture to walk away, "Alright, then. Learn well from y/n, she's the second best after all."

He walks in the opposite direction from you guys, trying to taste the last breath he inhaled when he was next to you before he had to let it go. It was his own pitiful attempt at basking in your presence rather than letting his inhibitions crumble and grabbing you by the shoulders to ask if you were okay? what the hell were you thinking? he shouldn't have sent you on that mission, he'd apologize if he let that part of himself come through. If. But he won't do that.

The second-years did learn from you. Makki the most, almost coming close to handing you your ass in hand to hand combat after taking in a bit of advice from you. Her semblance in physical fortitude was getting closer and closer to Toji Zenin every day. Nonetheless, the keyword was almost. She almost won and probably could have been closer to that if you weren't so ticked off by Satoru Gojo. You were in such a zone, honed in on the negativity he procured for you by not giving you the attention you wanted, that you barely spoke while focusing on Makki's every move besides giving advice, your usual praise and teasing gone.

You showered after, the heat of the sun and physical exertion making you uncomfortable in your own sweat and forcing you to take the quickest train to your place instead of getting a ride. And you didn't want to come across him again.

The feelings were too much.

It was why you found yourself halfway through a bottle of whiskey, snacking on a charcuterie board you ordered for the fucks of it. You're wearing another set of those "skimpy pjs" as Gojo had put it and staring out your balcony to gaze at the city's night lights.

You just want him so bad.

You want to kiss him. You want to be in his embrace and tell him he the prettiest eyes ever. And he's a womanizer, it chisels away at your heart. God, he's probably tongue deep in a pretty blonde right now. There's tears raining down on your cheeks and you don't bother to wipe them away, choosing to take another swig of whiskey and accompanying it with a slice of prosciutto to tug some of the sharp aftertaste away.

It hurts, wanting him. He just needs to get from you. You need to get away from him. Fuck the friendship, fuck everything.

ding!

There's someone at your door and you're up to check who the hell is at your apartment on a Friday at 1 a.m. like a lunatic. Your guard slightly goes up the closer you get to your door, the idea of someone dangerous being behind the door coming across your mind. There's a patch of goosebumps raising at the back of your neck, suddenly growing alert at your own thoughts as you tip toe to your peep hole.

And of course it's someone dangerous.

"What do you want Gojo." You don't bother to be much curious about it. You want him out of your face.

He's standing in front of you with his stupid handsomeness. That same bottle of whatever he ordered the other night in his left hand and his irritating smirk on his face along with those blacked out glasses. He's wearing black pants and a tight black shirt too, you can even see a sliver of a silver chain on his neck.

You don't see, hear, or even notice it when it happens, but his breath hitches in the quick fire second between your deadpan question of his whereabouts at your apartment and his teasing question at your teary face.

"Aw, you cryin'?" He tilts his head, canines bearing as his lips curve further up.

It makes you want to use his own red, purple, blue, or whatever fucking color of the rainbow on him. He's a complete ass. Satoru Gojo is a waste of your time. He should forget your address, your number, your favorite croissant filling, everything.

You just want him away from you, where he won't hurt you.

"Yes. Insensitive piece of shit asshole!" You shout, grabbing at your door handle.

"Get out of my face!"

You shut your door forcefully and carelessly, paying no mind to your surroundings or neighbors in your drunken haze.

When you turn around, he's already behind you.

The wine bottle is already on your kitchen island and Gojo's towering over you, his eyebrows scrunched just a bit and his eyes continuously trying to analyze you as his irises move back and forth. He had taken his glasses off, they were hanging off the collar of his shirt now.

Your nose twitches a bit, cursing his ability to teleport. The hate you hold for it becoming a heavy pit in your stomach.

"Get out." The twitch in your nose goes off again.

The panic of the situation is startling to Gojo. You look beautiful, the skimpy pink romper you're wearing is all consuming to him, he wants to rip it off and take you to your room. The crying fit you were just having had softened your features and god the little twitch you keep doing with your nose–

And you're angry at him for some reason.

No, he's stupid. It's his fault, you were crying and instead of letting himself worry about you like a normal person, he teased you about it. His own realization makes him scramble to fix his previous statement.

"No–look I'm sorry for asking like a jerk. Why are you crying?" He takes another step closer to you, pressuring you into answering his question.

Gojo was trying to get a physical tell out of you. You had healed from the mission, right? And sparring with the second-years couldn't have left you pummeled. He couldn't see any wounds on you.

He felt the rise of his hand to cup your cheek, to force you to look at him and tell him what was wrong.

No, he can't.

You look up at him defiantly, biting your cheek and beginning to grow angrier, angry at him, angry at your heart, angry at the tears that still manage to flow down your cheeks.

You take a step back and reiterate yourself.

"Get out, Gojo."

There's a linger of hurt in his eyes, along with confusion when his eyebrows scrunch even more. You can see he's at a loss for words when his mouth keeps slightly opening and closing and his eyes look like they're psychoanalyzing you.

You roll your eyes in a teary frustration and stomp your foot like a two year old throwing a fit when he doesn't move even in the slightest to leave.

"Please, Gojo! Just leave!" You cry, voice cracking, "Get out of my apartment, leave me alone, I don't–"

You almost yelp at the sudden intrusion of your personal space. He's got an iron grip on your hands all of a sudden, forcing them out of the way in case you try to push him away physically this time. And he's staring only dead into your eyes now, an overall concerned look on his face that overpowers his slight irritation at your stubbornness.

"Tell me why you're crying."

You try to loosen out of his grip, only for it to do nothing like you knew it would. It forces you to scrunch your nose in distaste and turn your cheek to him.

"I don't want to see you." You mutter, your voice audibly nasally and battered from the crying fit you were having.

Gojo brings you closer to him with a simple tug of his hands, he leans closer to your face.

"Why." His breathing starts to pick up and it sounds less like a question and more like a sound of offense.

"Let go of me."

"Not until you answer me." He tightens his grip on you just a little for emphasis, to show you that he really won't let go until you fulfill his request.

You still don't want to look at him. You can feel his laser like stare at you, pinning you down and pressuring you into giving him what he wants. It's all too much, his touch is searing to your skin and the fact that his body is so close to yours in hazing your mind. It's so much that you have no choice but to turn to finally look at him and it sends you back to the state you were previously in before he rung your doorbell.

You feel the hot wads of tears start to tumble off your waterline as you vomit a singular word.

"You."

He reels his head back a bit in confusion, "What, I–"

"You! I'm crying because of you!" You babble through your hiccups and tears, "And you show up like a jerk! You didn't even care that I was crying! And–"

"What makes you think I don't care about you?" He jeers you closer, his tone obviously offended now.

"Are you getting early dementia or something! You did that stupid aw you crying bullshit!" The situation growing worse as your eyes go completely bloodshot and there's hiccups continuously interrupting your speech.

"You didn't even care that I woke up! Today, you just came by to be a dick about me drooling! Yesterday, you didn't even show up to see me after I left the infirmary!"

His grip loosens a bit at your declaration of mistrust in his care for you.

He cares. He really cares. You can't keep saying he doesn't, he thinks. He left Spain the moment he got an angry text from Nobara that the mission he entrusted to you left you on death's door. He spent every free moment of his walking by or into your recovery room. He walked by your apartment last night to see if you were okay, his eyes had seen you sleeping safe and sound and it was enough to soothe his heart.

None of which you knew about, he realizes.

By now, you've broken free from his grasp, taking advantage at his loss of words, and fleeing to your bedroom. A loud bang followed the small pit pats of your bare feet on the floor, and it brought him back to reality.

Gojo now stares at the front door of your apartment, eyes still glued to where you were previously standing. He feels like his heart is stuck in his throat, unable to come out and run towards you like it wants to out of fear. He can hear his heartbeat pulsating in the cold silence of your apartment and it makes him confront himself instead of you.

You thought he didn't care and it made you upset.

And the mere fact is gut-wrenching for him.

It's so devastating to him, that his feet are suddenly driving him towards your room and his hands are opening the door.

He noticed the half empty bottle of whiskey and glass on your kitchen island as he passed by too. It makes him even more wary as he stands underneath the doorframe and sees you sat at the edge of your bed, head in your hands and violently crying.

"I care about you."

You hear him, but you don't have the energy to beg him to leave anymore or even notice him. You're spent and too embarrassed of your outburst to look at him.

Gojo wishes you could look at him. He wants the security of your eyes being there for him to bask in and it has him walking to kneel on the ground in front of you.

You feel his hands, soft and tough at the same time, pulling yours down, away from your face. It forces you to look down at him. You see the breath he lets out in relief the moment you make eye contact with him.

You're so weak, you can't help but melt into the feeling of his hands on yours now. A salty tear makes its last run on your face and you're nothing but a sniffling and hiccuping mess as you stare back at him.

He speaks again, "I am so sorry."

"Can you please stop touching me." You rasp out, suddenly becoming aware of how much more painful this is for you when he's feeding into youre delusions.

You can feel his blood stop pulsing for some reason. His hands are suddenly dead weight and his eyes widen.

"I can't do this anymore." You breathe out nasally, readying yourself to ruin your friendship with him.

"I love you Satoru."

It comes out heavy, like a massive paper weight on the air both of you were breathing.

And suddenly, he starts to feel his blood pumping again, the hands holding yours beginning to grow firm in their grip. His chest moves up and down even faster as he stares at you because his brain just short-circuited. He thought the inner works of his domain and technique were all he ever had to worry about handling, but this is taking the cake. Infinity and the knowledge it covers is nothing compared to what you just said.

"And–" You have to take a pause to stop the tears brimming on your waterline again, "it really hurts pining after you. I shouldn't be upset at you for not showing up at my doorstep yesterday like a boyfriend would. I wouldn't be if I weren't such a fool for you."

You're harshly wiping a tear off your cheek out frustration before you continue. You try to settle the now free hand away from him, on your lap, but he takes it back, still looking up at you without a trace of a word making an appearance on his mouth.

"I need you out of my life. I want to move on." You plead, "I can't be in the same room as you or else ill think about how bad I want to be next to you. I can't be this close to you and not kiss you. I want to wake up after getting hurt from a mission and not drown myself in whiskey because you didn't show up at my door to check on me."

"No."

Gojo is looking at you like you're an idiot. His face is twisted in a mix of offense and disgust, part of his nose is wrinkled and his eyebrows are twisted.

"Gojo–"

"Stop calling me by my last name." He cuts, eyes now harsh on you.

You're confused now, bleary eyes trying to understand him and how negative he seems right now. You want to say something, but everything you can think of is at the tip of your tongue and you're opening and closing your mouth like a fish on dry land.

Gojo looks like he wants to say something too, and like he knows what he wants to say, but he's struggling to just spit it out as he minimally glares at you. If you squint hard enough though, you might have just been able to see the slight gloss of sadness color over his eyes.

"I don't want you out of my life." He shakes his head, eyebrows still furrowed.

You sniffle, "But I just said that–"

You're pulled down by your hands and your face lands right smack on his, followed by a kiss ensued by him.

The kiss is enough to send you to sleep, it's soothing and everything you need to forget all your worries. And it's a little salty, a byproduct of your fit, but it doesn't seem to matter when Gojo reaches a hand up to your cheek and deepens his reach a little, a low grunt of affection coming from his throat when you let out a sigh.

It was short-lived, but it said enough.

When Satoru pulls back, he's still concentrated on looking for tells on your face, trying to make he got his point across.

"I've been putting you at the back of my mind for the past two years." He confesses sternly meanwhile he caresses both of your hands with his thumbs, rubbing soothing circles in the wake of his words. "I care about you so much I force myself not to." The last few words giving him the inclination to hang his head in shame.

"And I am so sorry it made you cry." He sighs in defeat, raising up both of your hands to kiss them as an apology. He's looking up at you with his big blue eyes, pleading for your mercy and you want to move, you want to act. It's why you lean down and give him a small peck on the lips to wake him up a little then dive back in again to kiss him.

It doesn't last long in that position–merely five seconds–until Satoru starts rising and pushing you back onto the bed softly. He pushes you forward onto the bed to make room for his legs before one of his hands is perched right next to your head and the other is guiding your thigh to wrap your leg around his waist.

Your hands run and grasp at his hair and neck, making sure to appreciate the feeling of his skin beneath your hands.

You begin to moan when he starts using tongue on you and it gets a rise out of him in the form of him grinding his bulge against your crotch.

"Satoru."

"Fuck." He groans, breathing hard as he kisses you. He can't just leave after this. He can't go back to his apartment. Hell he doesn't even know if he could pull himself away from you right now if there were a sudden emergency.

He feels you moving underneath him and he opens his eyes mid kiss to see you moving down the straps of your romper. The action causes him to pull back so he can see what you're trying to do.

"What are you doing?" He breathes, lips rosy and glossy from both of you guys' spit.

You free your arms from the thin pink straps right as he says that and look him in the eyes when you pull the spandex like material below your breasts.

"What I just did." You nod down innocently towards your boobs.

"Fuck. Fuck." He groans, reaching to palm both of them. It only lasts for a second before he starts to pinch at them, rubbing them between his fingers and eliciting whimpers from you.

"Yeah, just like that baby."

It makes move your hips up in search of him and it has him leaning back down to kiss you, needier this time. Satoru includes more tongue than anything, wanting to just be in you, in your skin, everywhere, as close as he can get.

You start to yank at the bottom his shirt soon enough.

"Take this off." You whine

Easily and quickly, he complies to your request, grabbing his shirt by the collar and taking it off of his body. He throws it behind him and is about to lean back down when his eyes go astray towards your crotch.

There's a wet patch very obviously soaking through and he can see the mold of your pussy sticking to the damp material. It makes his cock jump at the sight and he can't help but run a finger across your slit.

It makes a shiver run up your spine and a moan leave your mouth.

"You like that?" He's staring you down when you look back at him after having shut your eyes in pleasure.

"Mhm." You nod, eyebrows furrowed and eyes blown wide with lust as you take both of his hands and make him grab the material of your romper. "Take it off of me."

Satoru doesn't need to say anything as he obeys your request. He pulls at your pajamas and helps you slide it off your legs, too overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation to make any witty or teasing comments.

What wasn't part of your request was when he held both of your legs up in the air by squishing your thighs together and dove straight for your pussy.

You almost scream at the sudden intrusion of him initiating a makeout session with your pussy. The squishing of your legs making the sensation more intense for some reason. You can hear Satoru groaning into you while he sucks on your clit. He shifts his weight so that his arm is wrapped around your legs to keep them together and you wonder why he switches to only one until you feel a singular digit of his sliding into your walls.

" 'Toru." You moan, legs twitching a bit when you feel him hook a finger up and apply pressure to that one spot that has you begging for more.

"Gimme another one, please." You urge, fisting at the sheets next to you for some sort of relief.

"I got on the first flight back the second I heard what happened." He confesses, breath raggedy as he peers over from the side of your legs and gives you the other finger you asked for. His entire lower side of his is glistening, you almost feel embarrassed that it's your juices.

He continues confessing and pumping his fingers in and out of you, the squelching noises accompanying his words.

"I was scared shitless." He almost grieves, a messy confusion of his own sexual energy and his pleading for your forgiveness. Satoru starts to plant a flutter of kisses along your thigh while he keeps his eyes on you. "I love you so much." He groans, extremely turned on by the increasing pulsing of your walls and the faces you keep making.

"Yea? Oh fuck–" The last five words he uttered were adding even more ecstasy to your euphoria and had started to plummet you into your orgasm when coupled with the deeper and faster pace Satoru introduced.

"Come on, pretty. Cum for me." Satoru almost sounds like he's begging, mouth opening in awe in sync with yours at the overwhelming sense of pleasure crashing over you.

It comes out in a long mix between a moan and a whine, along with the wriggle of your hips and legs as Satoru keeps moving his fingers in and out while you ride out your high.

You're heaving when it washes over and you're about to flinch at the overstimulation of Satoru's fingers when he pulls them out and puts them in his mouth. You can see him slightly roll his eyes back when he hollows his cheeks a bit to fully clean his fingers off and get your taste out of them.

Satoru lets go of the grip he had keeping your legs up, and he gets up to quickly take his pants off, followed by his boxers, and–

"You're big." You marvel, sitting up now and admiring the view, also trying to wrap your head around the fact that he's going to hurt. He's pretty and long, reaching a bit past his belly button when it slaps against his stomach, and his girth is scream worthy.

When Satoru looks down, you look so innocent, peering at him through your lashes before focusing your gaze back on his length. He sees your thighs shift against each other–a boost to his ego and his horniness–but he can also tell you're a little freaked out by the sheer size.

"We don't have to." He heaves earnestly, chest rising and falling a bit faster than usual out of pent up sexual aggression from fingering you and watching you cum, and the need to be inside of you right now, which he'd be more than capable of stowing away for now if you didn't feel comfortable taking him.

"We can make it fit." You reassure softly and lean up to tug one of his hands to you in the bed while his eyes widen.

Satoru is in between your legs now, eyeing you down with lust blown pupils, an animal like stare that has you shrinking into the bed the more it lingers. Truth be told, he doesn't know how to act now that he's got you underneath him, legs spread, and your pretty little face waiting for him to do something.

His first move is to kiss you again, he missed your lips in the brief few minutes he was eating you out and fingering you. The kiss makes your skin crawl and pull him closer to you by the shoulders you have your arms wrapped around.

His cock lands right between your lips after that and it makes both of you suck in a breath the contact, a needy grind of both of yours' hips following.

"I want you inside of me 'Toru." You sigh against his ear as he dips his head down into your neck, mouthing and biting.

You feel his grip in the sheets right next to your head tighten and manage to get a view of his large and broad back contorting at the sentence.

"How bad do you want it?" He almost snarls, moving his hips so his cock keeps sliding between your folds, gathering your slick on his shaft and stimulating your clit in the process. His head leans down even further and he's sucking on your nipple, nipping a bit to get squeals out of you for not answering him as fast he wanted you to.

"I want it really bad." You can't stand the pulsating between your legs anymore, your hips can only move towards him for so long before you feel like you'll die. You needily scratch at his back when his other hand pinches your nipple particularly hard. "I feel like I'm gonna die if you don't fuck my pussy right now." It comes out whiny and high-pitched, the overall want for him making you pathetic.

He comes back up with a crazed stare more intense than the last one and dives for your mouth again, aggressive and overwhelming, like he wants to swallow you whole. There's teeth and tongue everywhere, you wouldn't be surprised if your lips were bleeding by the end of this.

When you're caught up in the feeling of his chest on yours and his heavy breathing against yours while you kiss, he starts lining himself up to your entrance. The intrusion of his fat tip in your hole interrupting your ability to kiss and making your jaw go slack.

You start to lift your hips off the bed without thinking and Satoru wraps his arm around your waist to keep you in place. He hasn't moved any further, basking in the invitation of your warmth and giving you time to adjust.

"It's so big." You mutter, hand in his hair and the other holding onto his back for dear life while you look at the rest you have to take.

It's the first time he even so much as smiles a little when he looks up at you and you see a glint of his canines and a glossed over look in his eyes. "Yea?"

"Mhm." You nod, eyebrows knitting when he pulls back and inches in a little further with a shallow thrust.

He drops his head into your neck, trying to keep himself from biting the bullet and completely pushing into you in one go. "Fuck." He moans when he thrusts back in again

He picks up the pace a little with every shallow thrust that gets him an inch deeper in you and by the time he's fully in, he's giving you hard and punctual thrusts. You're close to screaming every time he bottoms out, mouth open while you whine and moan. It makes him take advantage and he swallows your noises by shoving his tongue down your throat. He licks at your tongue, almost as if he's trying to wrap around it like you're doing to him.

"Love –hearin' –that –pretty fuckin –pussy –take me." He grunts against your lips, punctuating between almost every word with a sharp thrust into you. The soft squelching sounds reminding him that he's very much inside of you and making a mess of you.

"I–" You struggle to speak, the sex taking away your ability to speak.

And Satoru doesn't care, reaching a hand up to your chin to make you look at him as he keeps pummeling into you. "You what baby?"

The petname only adds to your euphoria, making it even more difficult to respond to him. But he's still got your chin in his hand, and he's not showing any signs of looking away or stopping his pace.

"I–I mmmmm–I love–love you."

His eyes soften a little, still as ravenous considering he's pummeling your pussy for the first time, but they soften just a smidge nonetheless. And he moves the hand holding your chin to cup your cheek, running a soothing thumb as he returns the affection to you.

"I love you too. Fuck you're clamping down so tight. Shit. I love you so much y/n. Don't want anybody else to have you. Oh, god. You make me so fucking crazy."

The hand previously on your cheek is now snaking its way down, stopping until his thumb is rubbing your clit and eliciting porn worthy moans from you at the added stimulation.

"You're gonna make me cum Satoru." You breathe out, high pitched and almost moaning loud enough to wake up anyone within the vicinity of your building

The warning is an incentive for Satoru to lift one of your legs up, letting him reach deeper and keep the same pace that has your pussy doing that familiar chasing spasm around his cock now instead of his fingers.

"Cum for baby." He gasps out, abs flexing as he struggles with his own pleasure. "I know you fuckin can. Please. Please. Please. Need to feel it on my dick."

By the fourth thrust in the new position your stomach drops and your legs are spasming trying to close and fidget, but Satoru's iron grip on you stops it from happening. He keeps fucking you through it, staring at you as he does, making sure to frame the picture of you coming on his cock for the first time in his head for all of eternity.

There's less resistance from you when you fall limp after and just take it. Your legs feel like jelly and fall even more moldable to Satoru's physical requests, letting him push your leg farther back and dig even deeper into you how he wants. You know it hurts, that you're supposed to at least try to push away his cock from molding into you again and again even after you've reached your peak, but it just feels so damn good to hurt this way. All you can do is squeal after every thrust of his. And when you feel his pace grow sloppier and faster, it makes you reach for his neck and hair, roping him into you.

"I'm gonna cum." Satoru's cheeks are rosy and his eyes are glazed over as he looks at you, desperation for his release written all over them.

"Cum for me 'Toru." You whine, eyes almost rolling back from a particular jolt of his hips and leaning up as much as you can to plant a chaste kiss on his bottom lip. "Want your cum to fill me up. I need it so bad."

"Please, 'Toru. Cum in me, please."

It drives him over the edge. He drops his weight on you to kiss you through the stuttering of his hips and jolts of his cum into you. You feel his warmth pooling inside of you and can hear both of you guys' labored breathing after the whirlwind sex you just had.

Satoru's rough and passionate kisses from seconds ago turned into chaste quick ones that he kept stealing from you until he shifted his weight from his palm to his forearm and cupped the side of your face, affectionally moving a stray hair from your forehead.

His sky blue eyes peered down at you, taking in the sight intensely, as if any moment you could try to push him away from your life again.

"You're so beautiful." He breathes in awe, gaze turned soft.

"So are you." You replicate his tone, cupping his face in return and appreciating the fact that he looks so pretty and handsome in the moonlight seeping through your floor to ceiling windows right now.

He grabs at one of the hands on his face and brings it to his lips, placing a warm kiss atop of it.

"I was here last night." He confesses, "I passed by your apartment to see if you were fine while you were sleeping." He wants to look away in shame. "I didn't think– There was–"

Satoru closes his eyes in frustration for a second at himself before finding his footing again.

"I've been doing everything I can to be there for you without you knowing, without me knowing, I didn't even know I was going to spend the entire day with you that other day until my mouth found a reason to make it about work."

He sighs at himself before he continues, "I care."

"I spent every moment I could waiting for you to wake up. I checked on your apartment to clean it. I looked for your cursed energy anytime I was within a vicinity of the school to see if you were recovering. I care."

You're close to speechless at his confession, resisting the urge to pull him down and litter his entire face in kisses, instead forcing yourself to speak.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you." You return sheepishly, feeling bad for the tantrum you threw at him.

"It's fine." Satoru reassures, planting a kiss on your forehead before looking down at where the two of you are connected. "How are you feeling?"

"Good." You bite your lip sweetly, letting a little bit of your love fueled smile come through while you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer in your embrace. "I could never cum like that by myself."

Satoru leers over you like a predator now, a full smile showing through and distinctly premiering his canines, his ego was stroked, "Good thing I'm here now then."

"Mhm" You nod eagerly, matching the upturn of his lips too.

"Oh. Come here." He groans and laughs a little, a hand on your back when he flips the both of you over and litters your face with kisses. Your giggles fuel him and he pulls you closer to him.

Neither of you are going to let go again.

[tootiredtocares-blog]

Pretty fucked up that timmy forgets the only positive influences in his life after his 18 birthday when you think about it

[purplecelestial-buddy]

I was talking with my friend about the fact that people tend to write Sasahira in a way that Sasaki is head over heels and Hirano is not that emotionally responsible

But, I raise you, Sasaki that, much like in canon, builds walls to avoid people getting close to him x a Hirano that never stops trying to take care of the feral wet caliconcat that Sasaki is

Until... He does. Like, imagine the angsty possibilities of Hirano simply giving up on taking care of someone that barely takes care of himself and Sasaki spiraling down because he does have people that care for him, but they are very few so losing one is like taking a bullet to the heart

[polaroid-petals]

I'm this close to writing a fic where a few weeks post-confession, Hero has a dream where he gets the option to stab Basil in order for Mari to have never died, only for his knife to stab not this fictional dream version of Basil, but the real twelve-year-old one, whom he then slowly watches die as he's unable to save him from the gash in his stomach.

To his horror, as he wakes up four years after the murder with no memory of what happened afterwards, he learns that he covered up the murder, and he has no idea how or why he did it.

[fishareglorious]

There is something I find incredibly juicy about Yae realizing that her having a hand with sending Sara to the Kujou Clan has inadvertently made Sara into the person she is today and feeling regret over it, knowing the Kujou’s treatment of Sara. Or even deeper remorse, if you’re exploring the route of the Kujous (especially Takayuki) being neglectful or abusive towards her.

Kagura’s Verity (Yae’s weapon) description:

Sara’s personality profile from the wiki:

Sara’s vision story

There’s different explorations of Yae’s regret, but I think most of it boils down to the lines of this notes in one of the particular fics with this topic:

I think that Yae is a character who does not have many regrets but the ones she does have eat her up like I eat room temperature pizza at 2 am

[smallhatlogan]

occasionally getting so mad about what they did to maya 5 years after the fact that i have to take a break from writing a maya scene in my fics and just be really fucking mad about her

[mustlovesteve]

I’ve read some excellent one-shots but… Are there any longer Steddie fics where Steve doesn’t tell Eddie about the Russian torture trauma and agrees to be tied up but gets triggered by that?