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pimpingthesqueak · 1 day ago

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temptations, temptations….

lads!caleb x fem!reader SMUT (MDNI)

synopsis: you have a crush on the popular coworker, and after a late night at work, he makes it clear he feels the same.

warnings: office AU! reader is down bad, caleb is just as down bad but he hides it better (in the first half), alcohol consumption, flirting, teasing, semi-public sex, risky AF sex, caleb cums first one time, multiple orgasms and overstimulation (both f and m), dacryphilia and breeding kink if you squint, praise kink, caleb becomes a mess a few times.

hi! this is my first published fanfiction so i am so so so open to feedback and suggestions. let me know if you like it :3

—————

your crush on caleb was pretty well conceived, you’d like to think. at first, it was just lingering glances, smiles and harmless jokes. he was a charismatic guy; there was no way your concealed feelings stood out in the sea of shared coworkers. sure, you talked to him a little more than everyone else, but your projects frequently overlapped, and you found yourself going to him, asking questions you already knew the answer to.

but you had standards. morals. don’t fuck your coworkers. you’d learn the hard way not to mix business with pleasure. so you admired. from a distance.

until that night.

working on a project ran late, but caleb was there too, so being the only two left in the office, you traded work to help complete your tasks quickly. you surprised him with dinner halfway through, and soon the conversation strayed from work, and more onto personal things…

“how do you see with these things?” he holds up your glasses to the light and squints through them, ignoring your protests to give them back. your prescription wasn’t even that bad, at least in your right eye. your left eye was a different story.

“very well thank you!” you huff and snatch the glasses from his outstretched arms.

“seriously, the right one is okay but the left one gave me a headache.”

“i’m sorry, we all can’t be perfect like caleb.” you roll your eyes but toss the glasses on the table between you.

“i’ve seen you type without your glasses before. should i be worried?” he smirks at you, his purple eyes shining with mirth.

why was he so infuriating? and couldn’t you wipe that grin off your face??? “shut up. they’re not that bad. but i memorized the keys.”

he stops for a moment. “no way.”

“it’s not that hard. you never took keyboarding in grade school?”

“yeah but i have to stare at the keys sometimes.”

“did i find something i’m better at than the infamous caleb?”

“not until I see you in action, sweetheart. come on.”

and you found yourself typing at your computer, typing simultaneously with caleb’s words with your eyes covered by his hands. your brain operates on autopilot as you focus on the feeling of his hands over your eyes, the heat from your body radiating from yours…

“are you even listening to what i’m saying?” his question breaks you out of your thoughts and then he laughs. “you totally weren’t because you just typed my question.”

your cheeks heat up and you push his hands away before he can feel it. “did i pass your stupid test?” you cross your arms and read over the words you typed out. there was a bit of The Bee Movie script, a recipe for a 7 layer cake and the beginning of Never Gonna Give you Up. *what??*

“i don’t know, pipsqueak. there’s some spelling mistakes.” he says from behind you.

you scan the paper again and frown. “no there isn’t, what are you-“

your words cut off when he leans over you and points to the screen. “there.” you weren’t paying attention because he was so close, in your space and you could smell him and he smells clean, despite being here in this stuffy office for over 12 hours. his body was huge, nearly folding over as he leans, and if you closed your eyes you could imagine that body wrapped around you, cuddling you, holding you in place as he-

you clear your throat and put some distance between the two of you, rolling the chair in the opposite direction a few inches. you look at the mistake to distract yourself. “that’s not a typing mistake, that’s a grammar error.”

if caleb noticed your demeanour change, he didn’t say much about it. “errors are mistakes, pipsqueak.”

“i have a name.” your eyes narrow.

“i know, but i want to use something that is mine.” he smiles, but there’s something deeper in his eyes, something you choose to ignore.

there wasn’t more productiveness after that, so you retired first, and he insisted to stay and clean up, and when you offered to help, he refused. so you said your goodnights and ran as fast as you could to the elevator to gather your thoughts.

what was that?

—————

you told no one about this, because frankly, part of you didn’t remember much besides your racing heart during that night.

but one thing was made clear to you: this was more than an innocent little crush. you wanted to fuck caleb, morality be damned. and he was so unsuspecting that you felt dirty, then a little hot then even more shameful.

and it didn’t help that he was ever the attentive, caring coworker. bringing you your paperwork from the printer, grabbing you an extra coffee, and talking about your favourite show that he just happened to start getting into in his spare time. you were fucked. and every time you tried to distance yourself to draw the line in your head, caleb was there, making sure you forgot why you wanted one in the first place.

a random thursday, weeks after the night you shared in the office together, you were sitting at your desk eating your lunch. suddenly you hear a chair roll up beside you and look to your left to see caleb leaning on his palm, staring at you with his dreamy galaxy eyes. you could lose yourself in them but you snap yourself out of it. “are you here to make fun of my lunch?”

“no. unless it has cilantro in it.”

“it does not.” you go to take another bite.

“go out with me.”

your food drops out your hand, landing back in its container. you face him, looking as if you didn’t hear him right. “what?”

“i’m tired of this back and forth.” he sits up then leans in, and his eyebrows scrunch together in that way that could make you do anything for him. “i want you. and frankly, so does james from marketing, so im beating him to the punch.”

you blink. who the fuck was james?

“say yes.” his voice was soft, but had a slight firmness to it.

“yes.”

he brightens and kisses you on the cheek before rolling away. “tomorrow, 7:35 PM. i’ll pick you up!”

you stare dumbly at your lunch as you process this interaction.

no seriously, who the fuck was james?

——————

the following day, you finally cave and tell your best friend that you have a date and she immediately comes to the rescue when you admit you have nothing to wear.

she knocks on your door and 30 minutes later you’ve showered shaved and scrubbed down your body. you’ve tried on so many dresses that you want to scream when finally you agree on something.

“if you guys actually make it to wherever he’s taking you, he’s not the one because i’d fuck you right now,” your best friend squeals and at 7:35 on the dot, you hear a knock on your door.

he was in slacks and a dress shirt, holding flowers awkwardly at his side. he was staring down at his feet while he was waiting for you to answer, and when you did, his eyes widened as they raked over your body.

your red dress fit you snugly, with thin straps secured on your shoulders and the dress stopping just above your knee and your wore high heeled boots to give yourself some height. you smirk as his eyes turn into saucers and take the flowers. “thank you caleb.” you giggled and gave them to your friend. who he didn’t notice until now. he cleared his throat. “good evening.” he nods at her then looks back at you, a bit more composed. “should we go now?”

gone was the confident, charismatic coworker that you knew so well. this caleb was… well he looked like he wanted to fuck you. which is exactly what you were going for.

your friend hands you your bag as you leave and caleb opens the door for you to get in the car.

during the drive you tried to converse with him but his answered were short, curt and he was gripping the steering wheel like he wanted to rip it off.

shit. maybe this was too much? you knew it. but it was a cute dress.

he pulls up to a restaurant that you’ve seen online for its exclusivity, the waitlist three miles long. but he offers you his hand as you get out the car and his mood was much calmer outside. the valet parks the car as you two walk inside. the hostess escorts you to a secluded part of the restaurant, a booth with dim overhead chandelier.

“caleb, you didn’t have to do this. i would have been okay with a dive bar under a strip club.” you smile as he scoots in beside you.

“no way josé, i gotta impress my work wife.”

you roll your eyes. “i’m not your work wife.” the wine comes, and you need it, because he’s so close to you, his cologne is tickling your brain in ways that is making your breathing quicken. you’re gonna need all liquid courage available.

turns out you weren’t the only one. caleb was drinking with a purpose between the light conversation, and soon he was staring at you with flushed cheeks and you were drowning into those galaxy eyes.

he chuckles wryly as your glasses get topped off again. “i imagined this differently.” he sighs.

you hiccup in reply, making the both of you laugh quietly in the muted restaurant. “i think we’re doing pretty good so far.” you say in between gasps.

he shrugs and puts his arm behind you, and you warm up, not because of the alcohol. “i thought i’d be cooler about this. more… macho.”

you snort and take a sip. “are you saying you’re nervous?”

“yes, absolutely.” you two laugh again and you look up at him. “i had a game plan and you ruined it.” he playfully glares.

“what was the plan?”

“fancy restaurant, with wine and dishes i can’t fucking pronounce because they’re french and you’re french-“

“i know french.” you clarify, then frown. “how do you know that?”

he ignores your question, and continues. “but then you show up in that dress, and your heels and fuck, you smell so good…” he leans in to the crook of your neck and inhales deeply then groans in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

“caleb-“

he groans again and his head droops down onto his chest. “i had a plan. i really like you, and i wanted to treat you like a princess. but i cant think past your dress right now.”

your breath hitches at the confession, but he doesn’t care. in fact, he seems to be more interested at the way this dress shows off the swell of your nipples through the fabric. your head swims in pinot grigio and you let out a shaky breath. “I can back up, or give you space-“

“no.” his arm behind you wraps around your shoulders and pulls you into his space. and before both of you could think about it, his lips are on yours.

you hated any type of pda. but you couldn’t remember why as you deepened the kiss, a hand playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

he groaned your name and soon the kisses turned desperate, but tried to keep their slow rhythm.

he has to be the one to pull away, because you couldn’t remember where you were, nor did you care. you needed him. you lean back in for another kiss but he pulls back and lets out a strained chuckle.

“I can’t kiss you again.”

“why not?” you huff but your bratty attitude is less efficient with your panting.

“if i kiss you again, im going to fuck you. and you deserve better than my raging boner. you deserve hearts and flowers and chocolates….”

“those can wait, we can do it for our second date. you already got me flowers…” you lean in and he pulls away again, increasing your irritation. screw moral compasses!

he sighs your name and you shiver. “i just don’t want this to be a one time thing.” he says carefully and watches you, waiting for your reaction.

you liked caleb. probably more than you should. despite the growing heat between your thighs and your nipples begging for this mans attention and he wasn’t giving it to you, you liked spending time with him. it was easy to be open with him, and he genuinely seemed like he cared about what you said.

he wants to be a gentleman. which was cute but you didn’t want cute, you needed something darker. and he looked like he wanted to give it to you.

“what do you need from me? written consent that i’ll allow a second date?”

he chuckled and it it resonated through your body. “i guess,” he says then looks at you, his eyes searching yours. “just give me another chance to get this right.”

you two stare at each other for long moments, his pleading eyes unnerving you. it seemed like… to him this was more than casual dating, and that made your heart go into overdrive. you look past your lust and swallow.

“caleb… this was already perfect. but i’ll give you as many chances you want.” no way you were letting this man slip through your fingers.

his body sags in relief and his hold around your body tightens. “oh baby, i just need one.”

you raise your eyebrows. “overconfident, are we?”

“for good reasons.” he was done talking, so he silenced you with a kiss. and this kiss made your head spin. You clutch at his shirt as he presses into you, almost lowering your body under his. but you needed him closer, and you needed these clothes off.

————

you weren’t sure how you got into this position, but you couldn’t complain. and if you could, you wouldn’t.

your dress was bunched up at your waist, panties ripped off, the remains tucked in caleb’s pocket. your moans echoed through the empty stairway accompanied with his grunts. he was fucking you with a one track mind; though his goal was completed several moments ago.

your hands clenched the railing, and his were clutching the fat of your hips like a lifetime. he wanted to have you quickly in the backseat of his car, take an uber to his house, and bed you properly. tenderly, still trying to salvage the night.

his plans faltered when you stumbled down the stairs and he caught you before you fell. your ass made his raging boner snug, and the wine in your veins made you bold enough to wriggle back against him. he groaned, kissed you and soon he was pushing his fat cock into your heat, fucking you, chasing a quick release so he could get you home and treat you properly.

and then you came.

the sight was unravelled him to the bone, your parted lips letting out a silent cry, your eyes rolling back and the way your back arch into him… it was a sight. you were a sight. but how you felt-

your nails dug into his biceps, your legs tightened around him as you fell off your peak. but the way your walls clenched, pulling him in, making it impossible to pull out…

he came, hard. flooding your heat with white and he wanted to close his eyes but he couldn’t, he couldn’t look away from you or your body, not even for a second.

you panted and smiled up at him as you came down from your high. but he glowered at you, and before you could ask what was wrong, he was taking you off his leaking cock and turning you around.

“hold onto this.” he ordered and placed your hands on the railing. that was the only warning you got.

he slammed back into you making the both of groan and he chased his high again, fucking you hard, and the new angle mixed with already being so sensitive had you seeing stars.

his balls abused your clit, and his mouth was all over your back. kissing your shoulder, licking your spine biting your neck, this man was in a frenzy. all while his long thick length bullied into that spongy part inside you.

he came first the second time, and came with a small whine that came from the back of his throat. “you’re unmanning me, beautiful.” he said shakily, and you whine in reply. it’s all too much, and his seed starts to flow out of you.

“oh no, we can’t have that…” caleb murmurs and he pulls out slowly, groaning at the sight of your walls clinging to his shaft. his fingers find your entrance and scoop up any cum that escaped before shoving it back in. then shoving his cock back into you in one go. you let out a broken moan as your knees buckle, but he holds you up with his hands on your hips and starts drilling into you again.

at this point you couldn’t be quiet, and your moans echoed throughout the staircase. your walls flutter, and you cum again, and your fluttering walls send him over the edge, deep groans coming from him.

you thought that it would be over, 3 times in minutes should have done it for him, but his thrusts turn erratic and broken versions of your name falls from his lips.

“I’m… so sorry.” he rasps, slamming into you like a man possessed. you barely understand him, your moans were cries of overstimulation, and he presses you into the wall. “y-you deserve better. so much better. it’s just, i’ve been waiting for so long… and I thought i could wait a little more but this dress…” he lands a particularly sharp thrust inside you, making your eyes roll back.

“i mean, could you blame me?” he pants and uses his body to push you snug against the wall. you couldn’t feel anything but him…. “you smell so good.” his nose runs along your neck band you shiver. “how am i supposed to think?”

“caleb…” you whine out. you were swimming in overwhelming pleasure, and caleb was drowning with you.

“fuck, sweetheart don’t say my name like that…” his thrusts were shallow, as if he couldn’t muster the courage to pull all the way out.

“i can’t…” you gasp as the coil in your stomach twists again. “caleb, i can’t!”

“i know… i know baby, i know…” he shushes you and kisses your neck sending chills down your back. He embraces you and you lean into him. for a moment, you caught your breath. his hands caress your skin and you sigh in contentment.

he peppers kisses along your neck and his hands travel lower. you though it was to fix your dress but his fingers find your clit, soaked with arousal, and tease the little nub. you gasp and you walls clamp down on his length.

“there she is…” caleb groans and starts to thrust again. they were slow, but deep, forcing cries from your lips.

“i promise, im gonna take you home and treat you like a real lady but i need you to cum for me one last time. can you do that baby? please?” his words were soft in your ear, a contrast to the brutal thrusts he was giving you.

you sniff and you don’t even realize you were crying. neither did he, because he looks down and wipes your tears. “you’re so beautiful…” he murmurs and he fucks you faster. the obscene sounds from between you two rand in your ears, but you were two fucked out to feel shame.

the coil tightens and your legs stiffen, clear indicator that your orgasm was close. he chuckles and his thumb traces your lips. “i knew you had it in you.”

suddenly the echo of a door opening falls on both of your ears and the both of you still. caleb hand covers your mouth and your eyes open in alarm.

you hear a male voice from several stories up, coming down the stairs. “yeah apparently someone heard screaming, but there’s nothing here.” he comes down another flight. caleb chuckles in your ear and you shiver. your heart races as the steps get closer. you tap his arm and his grip tightens. “quiet.” he says in a low voice and gives an experimental thrust. your moan is muted by his hand over your mouth but he groans softly then start to fuck you again, quietly.

you clamp down on his cock and his breathing hitches. the voice and footsteps come closer.

“i’m not going all the way down there.” the voice mutters then a door opens then closes and you two were alone again.

caleb’s pace gets devilish and the rapid approach of your orgasm makes it hard to keep your eyes open. your walls flutter sinfully around him. “i’ll … have to teach you… how to be quiet, sweetheart.”

you moan in reply and clench again.

“cum on me, baby. want you to soak me.”

you obey immediately, cumming on his cock, biting on his hand to hold back your cries. he curses, the pain shooting to his cock and he cums right after you, grunting your name as he paints your walls white.

his head rests on on your shoulder as he catches his breath, and when you go to rest your forehead on the wall, you head hits his hand instead.

a chuckle goes through the both of you and he straightens before pulling out. you wince at the loss and he forces himself to ignore that.

instead, he fixes your dress back into place and he turns you around. he looks sheepish, almost shy. “i promise i can treat you better than that.” he scratches the back of his neck.

better than multiple orgasms by his huge dick? “no complaints here.”

he chuckles and zips his pants back up. “let’s get you home.”

“your home?” you ask hopefully and he laughs.

“you thought I was done with you?”

————

like and repost, but please don’t steal

#caleb love and deepspace #lnds caleb #love and deepspace #caleb x mc #caleb x reader #love and deepspace caleb #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace fluff #caleb x you #caleb smut #reader smut #caleb x y/n #l&ds #lads x reader #lads x you

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neeeooon · 2 days ago

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Hey Elle!!! 😚🫶May I request bllk boys (Nagi, Rin, Sae, Bachira, Shidou) with s/o who's rlly into anime, cosplay, spends all their money on figurines, merch etc and makes them go to conventions with them!!! 🤸🏼‍♀️ love your writing!

yesssss LMAO okay i had fun w thiss thank you sm for the request!!! 💛💛

when you’re an anime fan ;

bf bllk x gn!reader

nagi seishiro

-> he doesn’t like the fact that he has to share you with your dozens and dozens of anime plushies

-> “nagi! you’re crushing mr. sakamoto!!” “what’s that?” “?! please move so he can breathe :)” he decides not to fight you on this. “.. okay.”

-> though nagi doesn’t quite understand your obsession with spending money on little figures and plushies of cartoon characters, he works around it. it’s easier to spend a little time looking for a clear spot than upset you after moving something he wasn’t supposed to

-> until he comes over one day to find a large snorlax plush in his usually empty spot on your bed

-> “.. is this your way of telling me to move?” “what? no, it’s for you! your room is like a prison cell, babe. you need something to make it more personal. plus, he looks just like you!”

-> nagi doesn’t see it, but he sleeps with that damn snorlax plush every night he spends away from you <3

itoshi rin

-> “y/n? put the phone down…” “just one click, rin. one click and it’s all mine.” “y/n, so you really need twenty-six figures of the same four characters..?” “yes.” “really?” “… maybe?”

-> he manages to convince you to give him the phone so you don’t spend your entire paycheck on anime merchandise

-> he’ll stay up late watching the shows with you, and he actually follows along with and likes quite a bit of them. not enough to blow his entire paycheck, but enough

-> “i think we should be meruem and komugi from hxh for halloween.” “… but don’t they d—“ “DONT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

-> once you promise to stop crippling your bank account, he agrees to dress up with you <3

itoshi sae

-> bro is not impressed

-> he can’t even pretend to enjoy himself as you drag him around the merch store, grumbling about how ugly and expensive everything is

-> you ignore him and fill your little basket with mangas and posters for your room, but when it comes down to it, sae hands over his card at checkout before you have the chance

-> “?? i thought you said everything here is ugly and expensive?” “oh, it is. i don’t want you spending your money on ugly things, y/n.” you smile at his excuse and kiss his cheek

-> he’s not ecstatic at the cost of everything, but sae doesn’t complain about it to you, either. he even helps you hand your posters at home (those, he does insult)

-> “why does that guy have such big ears?” “be nice to geto!! those are his earrings.” “he looks like a weirdo.” “leave him be 😭”

bachira meguru

-> you better believe he’s feeding your addiction

-> “ooh, y/n, look at this one!! do you have this one?” “i’ve been looking everywhere for that character! how did you find it?” “my monster told me to check the back shelf..”

-> keeps a full, detailed list of every anime you mention starting or liking so he can surprise you with merch

-> “y/n, look! i made a hakura sakura keychain for you!!” “you made it?! i love it!! but what’s the occasion..?” “i just felt like making something for you ☺️” you may have teared up a bit

shidou ryusei

-> you were planning to cosplay one of your favorite anime characters, and the costume was going on sale at a convention. thankfully, shidou didn’t fight when you asked him to join you

-> “so, we’re gonna stand in this line for how long again?” “depends on how quickly they wave us through. could be a few hours.” “… let’s fucking do this.”

-> shidou has to body a few people, and you do get escorted out by security, but you get the costume! so you consider the trip a win

-> “you didn’t have to punch that guy for me,” you hum as you dab at your boyfriend’s scabbing knuckles. “he was going to push you out of the way. you wanted it more than he did, and he shouldn’t put hands on someone for a dress.” “you did, though..” “for you. not the costume… it is a cool costume, though.” “i know, right?!”

-> you post photos and videos of yourself all dressed up online, making sure to tag shidou for helping you complete your look <3

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christopher-bangnaldoskzz · 1 day ago

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This is 1000% a rewrite of this series, I read through it recently to refresh my memory of the story and I actually died a little inside knowing this is how I wrote 3 years ago 😅 I deeply apologise so please this is my redemption post.

Soft Dom Bangchan x Female Reader Sub!

Genre: Dark Romance

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: No warnings yet, however, I am going to say this is strictly 18+ MDNI fan fiction.

Summary: In a world where submissives crave dominance and dominants seek out their submissives, a thrilling tension brews when deep emotions start to intertwine with binding contracts. What happens when the lines blur between desire and duty? Can a contract stay just a contract when the flames of passion ignite? As love weaves its way into the dynamic, are they prepared to face the tumultuous journey of balancing hearts and agreements? The stakes have never been higher—will they surrender to love, or will they fight to keep it in check?

A/N: would also like to dedicate this story to @daceydeath, thank you for always putting up with my deluluness, also thank you for putting up with my drama fill life honestly. I wouldn’t be still writing if it wasn’t for you encouraging me.

Chapter One

"Are you out of your mind, Grace?" you respond, a mix of disbelief and amusement in your voice. Surely, this can’t be serious—she must be joking, right?

"Absolutely, I mean it." She was your sole ally in this vast world, and there was something undeniably captivating about her dominant nature.

“What!.noooo, please, I’m not looking for one at the moment,” you replied, trying to sound convincing, although deep down, you knew it was a lie. The truth was you did desire a Dom to share laughs, experiences, and quiet moments with. However, the thought of finding a random guy on the internet made you feel uneasy.

Grace was aware of your past experiences and the fears that lingered from them. Your last relationship had left a sour taste in your mouth; he had been a bit too rough, disregarding the boundaries you tried to set. You often replayed those uncomfortable moments in your mind, unsure if you were ready to open yourself up to someone new. The idea of stepping back into the BDSM world felt daunting, and the online scene was even more intimidating. You longed for a genuine connection, but the anxiety of navigating it all made you hesitate.

"I have found a guy I think you will like...he classifies himself as a soft Dom, “As she spoke, her fingers quickly navigated her phone's screen until she found the image she was looking for. With a proud smile, she turned the device towards you, revealing a clear picture of the guy. His features were sharp and striking, framed by tousled hair that suggested a carefree spirit, and his expression was one of warm confidence. You could see the way his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief, instantly drawing you in as she eagerly awaited your reaction.

You look closely at the profile photos. He catches your eye. "Grace, please tell me you haven't messaged him?" You watch her mouth curl into a mischievous grin.

"He's here right now." She was such an asshole for doing this to you. "Okay, behave,” she warns, her teeth clenched tightly. With a mix of tension and determination, the young man strides toward the table, his expression revealing a blend of nervousness and curiosity.

"Umm, hi," he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hint of nervousness in his voice. You glance up from your spot, and there, standing before you, a man of about 5 feet 7 inches tall. His brown hair is slightly tousled, falling just above his expressive brow. But it’s his eyes that truly captivate you—rich, warm brown, like molten chocolate, drawing you in with an intensity you didn’t expect. As he awkwardly chuckles, a shy smile breaks across his face, revealing a deep dimple in his left cheek, and he shifts his weight before sitting down beside you. The air feels charged with an unspoken connection, and you can’t help but feel your heart flutter at this unexpected encounter.

"Hello, I'm Chan," he said, extending his hand with a warm smile that momentarily lit up the elegant room. But as he leaned in closer to introduce himself the glass of red wine that grace, had ordered from the bar tipped over, spilling its contents across his Fendi black suit.

"Oh no, not again," he exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise as he quickly lifted the glass, but it was too late. The dark crimson liquid soaked into the fabric, threatening to leave a permanent stain.

Almost instantly, a waiter in a crisp white shirt and black bow tie appeared by your side, looking flustered. "I'm so sorry, sir," he said, his face flushed with embarrassment as he bent down to help with the clean-up. He hurriedly grabbed a stack of napkins and began to dab at the fabric, his movements quick but careful.

"We will get you another glass," the waiter added, waving his hand to signal the bartender to come over and replace the drink.

Chan shook his head, a hint of amusement in his eyes despite the situation. "No, no, it's quite alright, truly. This was all my fault. I really don’t need another glass, thank you," he replied, waving dismissively.

His gaze shifted back to you, and he hesitated for a moment before continuing. "But perhaps, miss—" He glanced at you with an inquisitive expression, silently asking for your last name to complete his introduction.

"Y/L/N," you replied with a playful smile, confidently shaking your head. "But no, thank you—I don't drink," you said, watching as the waiter redirected his attention to the bartender.

A soft "good girl" slipped from Chan's lips just as he attempted to wipe the wine stain off his jacket.

"Wait, don’t rub it! Dab… let me handle that," you said, leaning in closer, the thrill of the moment pulsating in the air. He met your gaze, his eyes lingering on you, drawn in by the tantalising view.

He carefully extended the jacket towards you, his fingers brushing against the fabric as he offered it. "Thank you, but you really don’t have to go through all this trouble," you replied, though your hands had already instinctively reached for the coat. With a napkin soaked in water from your glass, you began gently dabbing at the dark stain that marred the material.

He watched you intently, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "It’s important to act quickly; it stops the mark from spreading," you explained, your voice calm yet serious.

Just then, Grace, with a resigned sigh, pulled the clasp of her handbag shut with a decisive snap. "Well, this is off to a swimming start… I think I shall be heading out now," she announced, her tone laced with Amusement. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she made her way toward the restaurant door, her exit as swift as the unfolding drama around you.

"I'm really sorry she had you come all the way out here just to meet me," you said, brushing your hair back to clear your view.

He glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his wide eyes. "Honestly, I'm not," he replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips.

You caught his gaze and offered the jacket, carefully passing it back to him. "Just remember to use some stain remover when you get home. Let it sit for about 20 minutes, then give it a soak."

He grinned, taking the jacket, placing it behind him. "Stain remover, let it sit, then soak—got it! Thanks for the tip!"

"So, have you visited this place before?" he asked, a nervous itch at his shoulder blades giving away how he was feeling.

Leaning in closer, you locked eyes with him, feeling the weight of the moment. "I'm going to cut to the chase," you said, your voice low and confident. "I know Grace mentioned that I’m looking for a dom, but honestly, after our conversation, I don’t think your quite suited for that role."

Chan raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief curling his lips into a smirk. "Oh really? … What makes you think that?" His sudden loss of composure intrigued you, a thrill running down your spine as you recognised the shift in his demeanour.

With a playful giggle, you tilted your head slightly. "Well, for starters, you seem to be struggling to keep it all together," you teased, enjoying the way his confidence wavered under your gaze.

He chuckled, a charming smile spreading across his face as he glanced back down at his menu, the playful banter intensifying the electric tension between you. "Well… you might just have to be the one to keep it together for both of us," he replied, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes.

Curiosity bubbled up inside you as you contemplated where to go from here. With a gracious smile, you leaned back slightly, wanting to gauge his reaction. "Should we hit the reset button on this conversation?" you asked, your voice infused with intrigue. It was clear he was not one to back down easily; the playful challenge hung in the air, inviting exploration.

"I'm Y/N," you said with a warm smile as you extended your hand, ready for a handshake.

"Chan… or you can call me Chris for now," he responded, his eyes locking onto yours as he firmly grasped your hand. There was something reassuring in his grip, a blend of confidence and approachability. "So, tell me, Y/N… what do you like to eat? It's on me, obviously," he added, a playful smirk spreading across his face as if relishing the chance to treat you.

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in your eyes. "Hmmm, if you're paying… I think I might just go for the lobster." A grin broke across your face, the thought of indulging in a luxurious meal making your stomach flutter with anticipation. He chuckled softly, seemingly unfazed by your choice, his gaze wandering back to the menu as he scanned the options with a thoughtful expression.

Suddenly, the same waiter who had attended to you earlier approached your table, a notepad in hand and a charming smile on his face. "Are you ready to order?" he asked, his tone professional yet friendly, clearly accustomed to the rhythm of the restaurant. The atmosphere was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of dishes.

“I’ll have the eye fillet” Chan said, flashing a warm smile as he looked up at you, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"And Y/N will have the lobster, right?" he added, confidently placing the order for you. The thought of him being willing to pay for your $100 lobster meal sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

"Oh yes, please!" you replied, returning his smile with one of your own, sweet, and grateful as you addressed the waiter. He nodded politely, jotted down your orders, and then disappeared into the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant, leaving you and Chan in a cosy bubble.

"You honestly didn't have to order me lobster... I could have picked something else," you admitted, leaning in closer to him, the intimacy of the moment warming your cheeks.

Chan leaned in too, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lowered his voice slightly, creating an air of secrecy between you. "The truth is… I'm secretly hoping you don't eat it all so I can have some." The playful confession made your heart flutter; you loved how he relaxed in your company, the tension that once lingered starting to fade away.

"Maybe Grace was right about you," you teased, taking a sip of your water, savouring the cool refreshment as you tried to read the expression on his face, delighting in the rapport that seemed to blossom effortlessly between you two.

"Oh, you think so... hmmm, interesting," he said, leaning back in his chair, his fingers interlaced thoughtfully. “So why did you leave your last dom?” His gaze was steady, encouraging you to share more.

“He uhhhh... he was a sadist,” you began, you voice trailing off as memories flooded back. “I left him because he burnt me pretty bad." The weight of your confession hung in the air, a heavy reminder of a past that felt both distant and achingly close. As you recalled those terrifying times, it felt as though it all happened just yesterday; the emotional scars still fresh in your mind, a painful reminder of a relationship that had spiralled out of control.

"How severe is it?" His voice carried an undertone of concern, mixed with a curious edge that hinted he was trying to grasp just how serious the situation really was. The furrow in his brow and the intensity in his gaze suggested he braced himself for an answer that could change everything.

"Let's just say my back tells a story, “You replied, your tone deliberately flat. The scars weren't merely physical; they were haunting reminders of a past you rarely revealed. You wondered if he would probe deeper or gracefully allow this moment to linger in silence.

"So, fire is definitely a hard boundary for you, then?" His voice softened, now cautious as he delicately navigated a sensitive topic. It was evident he wanted to understand your limits without pushing you into uncomfortable territory.

"Yes, absolutely," you replied, a slow smile breaking through as you started to warm to the idea of Chris as your master.

"Noted," he said, folding his arms thoughtfully. "Did he ever mention anything about being into sadism?"

"No, not at all. He started off charming and sweet. I never would have agreed to play if I’d known. But over time, as our relationship deepened, his obsession with sadism began to surface."

"I'm truly sorry he treated you that way," Chris said softly, his voice filled with empathy as he reached across the table to take your hand in his. His gaze was intense, penetrating your eyes as if searching for a connection. "But if you decide to be with me…I promise I will never put you in a position like that." There was sincerity in his tone that made your heart flutter.

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you. "But it's your turn now," you said, eager to learn more about him. "Why did you leave your last partner?"

A flicker of vulnerability crossed his face. "She left me... There were just certain expectations I couldn't fulfil, things she wanted from me that I couldn't overcome," he explained, his voice tinged with regret. "We came to the conclusion that it was best for her to move on." The admission stirred some unease within you, prompting you to dig deeper. "So, it sounds like… you weren't firm enough for her?"

A nervous tension sparked in the air as he pulled his hand away, his expression shifting as if he were retreating into himself. Just then, the waiter approached with the meals, momentarily breaking the atmosphere.

"Excuse me, sir… would you mind placing both meals in the centre of the table?" you asked, giving the waiter a warm, inviting smile. He nodded in agreement, carefully setting down the beautifully plated steak and lobster in front of you.

"Thank you so much. I truly appreciate it," you said, watching the waiter depart with satisfaction. As you turned back to Chris, you noticed a flicker of admiration in his eyes.

"Here, allow me," you offered, excitedly reaching for a lobster tail. With deft movements, you placed it beside the generous steak. You then sliced the steak in half, transferring one piece onto the lobster plate. After artfully arranging lobster tails atop the steak, you drizzled luscious lobster sauce over the entire presentation.

Once you had skilfully crafted the dish, you presented it to Chris, who looked genuinely captivated, his eyes wide in disbelief.

As he snapped out of his daze, a soft chuckle escaped your lips. "I believe they call this surf and turf."

His smile faltered, replaced with a thoughtful expression. "Thank you. I must be honest with you… I would like to discuss the possibility of a contract."

Chan POV

"Chan, come on, you really have to move on from Vanessa," Changbin asserted as he dramatically dropped onto the well-worn studio couch, the cushions sinking under his weight.

"I’ve moved on, seriously," I scoffed, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

"Then what’s the big deal about going on this date?" Changbin asked, tilting his head slightly and shifting to the edge of the couch, his curiosity evident in his expression.

"I don’t know, man... I’m just nervous," I admitted, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "What if she doesn’t like me? What if it all goes wrong? She doesn’t even know it’s supposed to be a date," I continued, my voice trailing off as I felt the weight of uncertainty settle in my chest. As I spoke, Changbin began packing up his headphones, clearly trying to focus on my dilemma.

Changbin was staring at me, his brow slightly furrowed and his eyes wide with confusion, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t quite fit.

"It's someone that Grace arranged for me to go on a date with," I explained, trying to keep the details vague. I didn't want to delve into the specifics of how the matchmaking had come about or share my mixed feelings about it.

"Oh, your hot friend Grace," he said with a smile. If only he knew what she was like, she would eat him alive. "When are you planning to hook me up with her?" he continued.

"I'm not… you're not her type" I mean, I wasn't lying. She liked women.

"You just want her all to yourself," he said, his voice laced with a hint of jealousy as he fixed his gaze on the ground, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Anyway," I replied, meeting his eyes with a light smile, trying to shift the conversation away from the tension. "What do you think I should wear? We’re going to a really fancy restaurant, and I want to look the part."

He paused for a moment, considering my question, before finally saying, "Your black suit is stylish. It always fits you perfectly."

……

This brings me to the point where I find myself saying, "I would really like to offer you a contract," and I can't help but wonder, Chan, why do you always act this way? She barely knows you, and here you are, making a complete spectacle of yourself. I couldn't help but notice the advice about the stained shirt—I mean, it was a bold move on her part to share that with me. And the way she offered me half of her food was so generous. I realise that if I don't seize this opportunity now, I might never encounter another submissive like her again.

She smiled politely, a hint of amusement in her eyes, and replied, "I'm flattered…but don't you think you should get to know me a bit better first?" As she said this, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her gesture both casual and intimate, making me realise just how much I wanted to learn more about her.

"I'll be right back," I promised, glancing at her as a smile spread across her face. I knew that Vannesa always kept a stash of hair ties in my car, a little quirk of hers that I had come to appreciate. With a quick stride, I made my way to the parking lot, the cool evening air brushing against my skin.

Once I reached my car, I opened the glove compartment with a soft click. Inside, neatly tucked away among a few scattered receipts and an old parking ticket, were the hair ties — a colorful assortment that Vanessa loved. I picked out a bright pink one, its elastic still strong and ready for action.

"Perfect," I murmured to myself as I closed the compartment and locked my car's door. I turned and made my way back to the restaurant, my heart a little lighter with each step.

As I re-entered the warm, inviting space filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, I spotted Y/N sitting at our table, her hair slightly tousled. "Here," I said, extending the pink hair tie toward her. "Please… take this."

Her eyes sparkled with delight as she reached for it, the tension in her features easing with a grateful smile. In that moment, I could see how the small gesture meant the world to her.

A faint blush crept across her cheeks as she glanced down, an awkward smile breaking through her initial embarrassment. "Oh wow, thank you… I, umm, totally forgot to bring mine," she admitted, her voice light yet laced with a hint of self-consciousness.

I chuckled softly, remembering my own past. "You know, my ex used to always keep spare hair ties in the glove compartment of the car. I completely forgot they were even there until I saw you struggling with your hair," As I spoke, I took a decisive cut into the perfectly cooked steak on my plate, savouring the moment while trying to ease her discomfort.

"Well, thank you," she replied, returning my gaze with a warm smile.

As she tied her hair up, I couldn't help but notice how the sleek strands came together in a polished ponytail, accentuating the graceful curve of her neck. There was something undeniably captivating about her look, and I found myself drawn to the way the lighting caught her hair, making it shimmer. "I really like you with your hair up," I remarked, feeling a rush of warmth spread across my cheeks as her eyes lit up with my compliment. Her smile widened, and in that moment, the world around us seemed to fade away.

……

As I glanced down at my watch, the glowing numbers caught my eye, and a sense of urgency washed over me. The night had slipped away faster than I had anticipated.

"Well, Chris…" she said softly, a hint of reluctance in her voice as she reached across the small table to grasp my hand. Her touch was warm and grounding, making it difficult for me to let go of the moment.

"I'll walk you to the car," I replied, hoping to prolong our time together just a little longer. After settling the bill, I led the way out of the cosy restaurant, the sound of our footsteps echoing off the sidewalk.

As we walked beside each other, the cool evening air wrapped around us, filled with the faint sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from nearby establishments. We made our way around the corner, where her car was parked under a lamppost, the light casting a gentle glow over its sleek silhouette. I couldn't help but steal glances at her as we walked, cherishing each second of this fleeting encounter.

"Thank you for tonight," she said with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with the soft glow of the overhead lights. "I assume Grace gave you, my number?" She laughed lightly, the sound as familiar as a favourite song. She and Grace had a long-standing friendship, a connection that made me feel a little more at ease.

"Yeah, she texted it to me during dinner," I replied, chuckling in return.

"Well… call me, please," she continued, her voice shifting from casual to something more serious yet undeniably inviting. There was a warmth in her tone that caught me off guard. "I'd love to discuss your proposal." Did I really hear that correctly? Did she just express genuine interest in talking about the contract? My heart raced at the thought, the prospect electrifying.

In that fleeting moment, I felt a powerful surge of desire to convey just how much she intrigued me. I could almost visualise those soft, inviting lips of hers brushing against mine, the warmth of our kiss igniting something deep within. Yet, amidst that longing, a voice of caution echoed in my mind, reminding me that rushing into anything too quickly could scare her off. I took a deep, steadying breath, trying to find the right balance between my yearning and the need to nurture a genuine connection.

"You can kiss me, Chris," she said with a playful smile, her hand resting lightly on my chest, sending a jolt of electricity through me. I gently tilted her chin upward, ensuring our eyes locked in a moment that felt suspended in time. With a soft, steadying breath, I leaned in, my lips hovering tantalizingly close to hers. "I will, but only when you sign that contract, missy," I teased, a playful smile breaking on my lips as I held her gaze, savouring the tension that crackled between us.

Y/N POV

You couldn't believe it, but Grace was right about him. As he strolled away towards his car, a warm smile spread across your face, a blend of excitement and disbelief. Everything about him seemed to resonate with you, from the way he carried himself to the charming glint in his eyes that sparked a quiet hope for what might unfold.

Just as you were lost in your thoughts, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you back to reality.

**Ting Ting**

An unknown number flashed on the screen, and with a curious frown, you opened the message. It read:

"Meet me at my office on Monday at 9 a.m. (address included). We will discuss the contract terms then - Master."

Y/N

"Yes, sir, I look forward to it."

………

Sunday morning dawns, and you are jolted awake by an insistent pounding on your door. Groggily rubbing your eyes, you mutter, "Jesus Christ," to yourself as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and shuffle toward the door.

Swinging it open, you find Grace standing there, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Oh good, you’re up!" she exclaims, brushing past you into the apartment without a second thought. "So, how did the date turn out with Chris? Isn’t he just delicious?"

Sitting down on the couch with a resigned sigh, you can't help but smile at her excitement. "He’s nice," you reply, playing with the hem of your shirt. "But... he’s an absolute mess." You lean back against the cushions, recalling the chaos of the evening you just survived. Grace plops down next to you, eager for the full story.

"Look, I know Chan pretty well," she said, settling onto the couch with a decisive thud. "He was a bit nervous earlier, which is unusual for him. You must understand, he’s a very sought-after dom in our community. He doesn't just take on any submissive; he’s quite selective. If he's offering you a contract, trust me, you should seriously consider it."

Curiosity piqued, I leaned in and asked, "What makes him so special?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my question. "Excuse me? He is the perfect dom…. If you're looking for a soft pleasure dom, he's one of the absolute best out there."

My mind raced as I processed that. "Wait, he’s a pleasure dom?" It felt like an incredible revelation. Pleasure doms are rare gems in this community, and to hear about one of his calibres was intriguing. It's no wonder he had such high demand—his reputation preceded him.

"Absolutely, big time," she affirmed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "He hasn’t had a submissive for over eight months now, which is practically an eternity for him. I’ve never seen him so anxious about meeting someone before. He must really like you—there's no other explanation for his nerves! So, when does he want you to sit down and discuss the details of the contract?"

"Tomorrow," you said, turning towards her. Suddenly you feel nervous. What if you can't please him like he wants.

“Shit, he’s moving fast,” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief. She shook her head, her brow furrowing as thoughts raced through her mind. “Look, nobody knows Chan like I do… There’s no way he’d just turn around and ask a girl he met to sign a contract like that.”

Her tone shifted, urgency seeping into her words. “So, what should I do, Grace?” you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice.

“Listen to me… You need to hear him out, alright?” She leaned in closer, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” you replied, your gaze unwavering as you searched her eyes for assurance.

“Good girl,” she said, a sultry undertone lacing her words, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips, as if she knew she had you right where she wanted you.

………

**Monday**

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you took a deep breath, your fingers carefully wrapping a curling wand around a lock of hair. “Why am I so nervous?” you muttered, forcing yourself to focus on your reflection. The soft morning light streamed through the window, highlighting the mix of excitement and anxiety etched across your features.

“Okay, Y/N… You’ve done this before,” you reassured yourself, smoothing down the front of your blouse. “Just strike out what you’re not comfortable with.” You ran through your mental checklist, contemplating the plans for the evening, and mentally discarding any doubts that surfaced.

Finally, satisfied with your appearance, you grabbed your handbag—a sleek black purse that felt just right in your hand—and headed for the door, taking one last glance back at your apartment. With a quick exhale, you stepped outside into the crisp air, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

As you approached the curb, your heart raced a little faster. There, parked majestically in front of your building, was a black Range Rover. Standing beside it was Chris, an easy smile lighting up his face as he spotted you. “Oh good… I was afraid you wouldn't show up,” he chuckled, his warm demeanour instantly easing some of the tension you felt. The sound of his voice made you grin.

"So, you actually came to pick me up?" you inquired, your voice laced with curiosity as you approached him.

Chris stepped aside with a flourish, swinging open the door of his sleek black car. "After you," he replied, a hint of mischief in his eyes. You couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted this unexpected gesture. Wasn’t he supposed to have his own driver? The thought lingered as you climbed into the plush leather seat, the scent of fresh upholstery filling your senses.

Inside the car, an uncomfortable silence settled between you, heavy with unspoken words. You caught glimpses of the city lights reflecting in the windows, your mind racing as you tried to make sense of the situation. Just as the tension began to feel unbearable, Chris reached over, his hand enveloping yours with a warmth that both surprised and calmed you. He threaded his fingers through yours, creating an unbreakable connection. "You don't have to be a nervous baby girl," he said, his tone both gentle and commanding.

You let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your legs to release the anxious energy coursing through you. "I can't help it," you admitted, feeling the flutter of excitement and anxiety battling within.

"Spot that," he said, his voice taking on a stern edge as he fixed his gaze on the road ahead. There was a seriousness in his tone that made your heart race, but a part of you felt comforted, knowing he was there.

You sit perfectly still in the passenger seat, fixing your gaze straight ahead, your heart racing as you decide to remain silent for the remainder of the drive to his office. The moment you arrive, the name "JYP Entertainment" slips from your lips, your tone laced with surprise and intrigue.

With a playful chuckle, Chris swings open the car door and steps out, the sound of the vehicle’s door closing echoing in the quiet lot.

“Here, allow me to help,” he offers, extending his hand toward you with a warm, inviting smile. You can feel a slight flutter in your stomach as he firmly locks his fingers around yours.

He leads you through the entrance of the building, its sleek, modern design taking your breath away. "I've booked a meeting room for us," he states, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. You can’t help but notice the briefcase he holds, its professional elegance hinting at the serious nature of the meeting ahead.

"This way," he continues, his voice bright with enthusiasm, as he guides you toward the elevator. The polished metal doors slide open, and you step inside, both of you sharing a moment of anticipation as the elevator begins its ascent.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, you stepped inside alongside him, feeling the heat of his presence nearby. His hand trailed along your lower back, a gentle yet possessive gesture that sent a shiver down your spine.

The soft hum of the building faded away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble once again. You settled into a chair, the plush fabric contrasting the excitement that swirled in your stomach, while he turned to pour you a cup of water from a sleek glass pitcher on the table.

“have some water,” he commanded, his voice firm but not unkind, echoing authority that sent your heart racing.

With a playful glimmer in your eyes, you shot back, “You’re not my dom yet, Chris… I don’t have to listen to you.” Your tone carried a cheeky defiance, a challenge laced with a hint of flirtation.

In response, he leaned closer, closing the distance between you until he was mere inches from your face. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “Do you want to repeat that?” The thrill of his proximity made your pulse quicken, mixing a touch of mischief with a growing sense of exhilaration that hung heavily in the air.

You take a gentle sip of water, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you try to quell the anticipation bubbling within you. He leans closer, his presence both comforting and electrifying. "That's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing a soft, tender kiss just below your ear. The warmth of his lips against your skin sends an involuntary shiver cascading down your body, igniting a thrill that dances through you.

"Alright… shall we get started?" he asks, shifting into a more businesslike demeanour as he settles down next to you. With deft movements, he opens his briefcase, revealing a neatly organised array of documents inside.

He pulls out two contracts, the crisp paper brimming with promises and stipulations. "Let's begin with the limits," he states, his voice steady as he hands one of the contracts to you. With a flick of his wrist, he opens his copy, revealing a series of terms and agreements laid out before him. "I took the liberty of striking out fire," he says, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

You nod appreciatively, feeling a sense of control in the negotiation. "Okay, also animal and age play… those need to go as well," you respond assertively, catching his eye momentarily. There's a moment of understanding between you two—a silent assurance that both of you are on the same page. "And you should add… I will not refer to you as anything other than Chan, Chris, Master, or Sir."

He smiles as he acknowledges your added stipulation, a glint of approval in his eyes. "Okay, yeah, that works for me," he replies, his tone lightening with the shift in energy. Then, with a teasing lilt, he leans slightly closer and raises an eyebrow at you, asking without words if you have any further limitations in mind. "Sooooo noooo..." His playful inflection hangs in the air, inviting a deeper exploration of the intricate boundaries you’re both establishing.

“No use of the word 'Daddy,'” you say with a slight frown, your eyes narrowing playfully.

“Okay, okay, that’s fine with me,” he replies, raising both hands in mock surrender, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Curiosity piqued; you lean in closer to examine the document spread out on the table. “What is this down here… am I meant to move in with you?” The words hang in the air, and you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken at the thought.

“Uh, well… only if you want to,” he stammers, his cheeks flushing slightly. He reaches for a pen, ready to strike that line out, but you swiftly grab his hand, squeezing it gently to stop him.

“How about we start with just weekends, okay? Besides,” you add with a teasing grin, “I have to work during the week.”

Chris's expression brightens at your decision. The tension eases, replaced by a shared excitement as he nods, clearly pleased with the compromise.

……

As the hours ticked by and you delved deeper into the intricacies of the contract, a sense of comfort began to wash over you. Chris had truly anticipated every detail, which was both reassuring and exciting. Eager to break the silence, you turned to him and asked, “How long have you been a master?”

A warm smile spread across his face, and he met your gaze with a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I’ve been a master for five years now," he replied, his tone light yet filled with a hint of nostalgia. He looked away for a moment, as if lost in a memory, before continuing, “Before that, I was a sub.”

“Oh, really?” you interjected, genuinely intrigued. “What made you decide to make that transition?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, and he leaned back slightly, his demeanour becoming more relaxed as he reminisced. “It was my dom… She inspired me in ways I never expected. She was incredibly smart and stunningly beautiful, but she had this fierce temper that kept everyone on their toes,” he admitted, the warmth of his memories evident in his voice.

You leaned in a little closer, your heart racing with anticipation. “So, is that what I can expect from you?” you challenged playfully, feeling a flush of excitement as you pressed your legs together tightly. The prospect of uncovering more about Chris and what it meant to be under his guidance stirred a rush within you.

"I make it my priority to be fair in all situations," he states, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "But I must warn you upfront—I only provide one chance when it comes to behaviour. If you test the limits, punishment will follow, and trust me, I don't take chatting back lightly." He observes you closely, noticing the hint of mischief in your eyes that suggests a bratty side lurking beneath the surface.

"Oh really? Hmmmm... that sounds intriguing. Have you ever successfully tamed a brat before?" you reply, your voice laced with seductive curiosity, a challenge glimmering in your eyes.

"I have," he replies, his tone firm yet teasing. "Just remember, even though I have a softer approach as a dominant, I won’t tolerate bad attitudes for long." He continues flicking through the contract, his focus partially on the words, but mostly on you.

"I wouldn't dream of testing you, sir," you say, a slight smirk playing on your lips. Chris's expression shifts at your use of "sir," a flicker of interest igniting in his eyes.

"I'd love to see your house before I sign the contract," you add, your tone growing more enticing.

"Absolutely," he replies, gripping the paper tightly, his curiosity piqued. "Do you have time to check it out right now?" He leans forward, eager to show you more than just the words on the page.

"I actually need to go to work", you smiled. Very convenient timing.

“Perfect, I’ll drop you off,” he said with a tone that caught you off guard. You felt a rush of heat spread through you; after all, you worked at a sex shop, and the last thing you wanted was for him to discover that little secret in such an unexpected manner.

With a gentle smile, he led you down the path to the car, his presence both reassuring and slightly intimidating. As he opened the passenger door, you hesitated for just a moment before sliding into the plush seat. The driver, who had been waiting patiently, turned to you expectantly as you recited the address.

As you spoke, you glanced over to find Chris looking increasingly astonished. “You mean the sex shop on the corner?” he asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

A light laugh escaped your lips, barely able to conceal the amusement bubbling within you. “Yeah, is that a problem?” You tried to keep your tone light and playful, enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

He shook his head, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, though you noticed the hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Nope… not at all,” he replied, though the way he fidgeted with his hands and avoided your gaze gave away his intrigue. You could tell he was trying to play it cool, but it was hard to miss the excitement fluttering beneath the surface.

Your workplace is about twenty minutes away, nestled in a bustling part of town. As you pull up outside the shop, Chris undoes his seatbelt with a determined look on his face.

"What are you doing?" you exclaim, a wave of panic rising in your chest. The thought of him entering the shop sends your mind racing.

"I’m coming in…. I want to look around… and I might pick up some toys for later when I come to get you," he replies, his voice casual but his eyes glinting with mischief.

"Don't you dare," you retort, giving him a warning look. His expression shifts, and he shoots you a challenging stare, the kind that reminds you how stubborn he can be. Realising you’ve lost this battle, you slump back into your seat, resigned but still slightly irked.

"Let’s go," he says with a playful grin as he steps out of the car, extending his hand toward you.

You take a deep breath, roll your eyes, and push the door open, hopping out reluctantly. "Fine," you mutter, but there's a hint of amusement in your voice. As you take his hand, you can’t help but feel a mix of exasperation and affection for his spontaneous nature. Together, you walk toward the entrance of the shop, the bell above the door jingling as you step inside.

Chan POV

"Did she really just roll her eyes at me?" I thought, feeling a mix of irritation and intrigue. "Be careful, Channie... she's not yours just yet," I reminded myself as I walked beside her, the anticipation of the moment hanging heavily in the air. Though the urge to discipline her for her blatant disrespect bubbled beneath the surface, I knew I'd have to bide my time.

As we approached the store, I reached out and intertwined my fingers with hers, the warmth of her hand sending a jolt through me. She paused momentarily, her surprise flickering in her eyes, before she confidently led me inside. "Good morning, Noah," she greeted cheerfully as we entered, her voice brightening the room. I cast a glance toward Noah, who stood behind the counter—a striking young man with long, flowing blond hair that framed his chiseled features, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to capture the attention of everyone around him.

"Morning, Y/N... Who's this?" he asked, extending his hand toward me with a mixture of curiosity and charm.

I grasped his hand firmly, my grip slightly stronger than normal, as if to assert my presence. "This is my friend Chris," she said, her smile a beacon of warmth as she looked up at me, the friendly tone in her voice stinging a little. Just a friend? A surge of possessiveness surged within me; I yearned to show her just what kind of "friend" I could be.

Y/N then walked behind the counter, placing her bag with a practiced ease that suggested familiarity, while I observed her every move. There was an effortless grace to the way she navigated her surroundings. Once she returned to my side, a playful smirk danced on her lips. "Okay, you can leave now," she playfully dismissed me.

Taking the moment, I gently lifted her chin with my index finger, a gesture that was both tender and commanding. Drawn in by the magnetism that crackled between us, I leaned closer and pressed my lips against hers. The softness of her plump lips sent a rush of warmth through me, and I couldn't help but smile as I pulled back, feeling victorious.

I turned to Noah, whose expression of shock illuminated the space between us—clearly, he hadn’t seen that coming. With a sense of satisfaction swelling within me, I stepped out of the store and headed back to the car, a grin plastered on my face. "That'll show him... she's all mine," I muttered under my breath as I settled into the driver's seat. Opening my phone, I glanced at the time and said, "Okay, can we go back to the company?" My mind was already racing ahead, planning the next moves in this intricate game.

A:n thank you again to all that have read my rewrite for master

Taglist: @daceydeath @bakedlilgoonie @armystay89 @krishastumblernow @cakeracha

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its-luna-noel · 2 days ago

Text

soul tied | gojo x reader

"You're not going to die on me." "My love, not even death could keep me from you." When the love of your life - or one of your lives - is on death's door, you perform a soul tie ritual to make sure you'll meet again. This tie binds you across time, space, and every universe; your souls now belong to each other. But even a soul tie doesn't make love easy.

tags: f!reader, reincarnation au, soulmates au, threads of fate, angst, pining, slow burn, fluff, meet cutes in every life, non-linear storytelling, fake dating, one bed, drinking

word count: 3.3k

chapter 3/? prev. chapter | next chapter

masterlist | link to ao3

notes: helloooo! chapter here on the quick turnaround for you guys! hope you enjoy, this was a fun one!

2024, Tokyo

|| Satoru Gojo: Just booked the hotel!

|| You: what do you mean hotel??

|| Satoru Gojo: ?? The hotel we’re staying at this weekend?

|| You: you didn’t tell me we were going out of town!

|| You: i am not staying in a hotel room with you

|| Satoru Gojo: Why not? I’m a great hotel buddy

|| Satoru Gojo: ;)

|| You: put your winky face away

|| You: im not sharing a room with you

|| Satoru Gojo: Why

|| You: cause we barely know each other

|| You: and i bet you snore

|| Satoru Gojo: I do not! And fine, if you want to spend your own money on a room. I’d call soon, there’s a whole wedding party staying at the only hotel in town

|| You: …you couldn’t have told me this earlier?

|| Satoru Gojo: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I thought you’d be okay staying with me

|| You: you really think you’re that irresistible?

|| Satoru Gojo: Yes

|| You: just called, no other rooms.

|| You: how much do i owe you for my half?

|| Satoru Gojo: None, I got it

|| You: fine

|| You: see you friday

|| Satoru Gojo: Yay!! See you then

Satoru picks you up on Friday afternoon, driving up in a sleek black Maserati and parking out front.

You almost roll your eyes. Of course he has to be gorgeous and rich. You walk over as he steps out of his car, looking somehow put together even in his comfortable traveling outfit of joggers and sweater. You’re matching, though you’re sure your sweatpants from Target are much less high-end than whatever bullshit he’s wearing.

He smiles at you. “Hey, thanks again for doing this.”

“Don’t mention it.” You hand him the garment bag that’s holding your dress for the wedding. Curious and ever intrusive, Satoru unzips the bag and peeks inside, revealing a floor-length, wine-colored piece you picked up for a good deal. At the sight, he glances over at you.

He grins down at you, raising an eyebrow. “What, did ya get this at Macy’s?”

You grit your teeth, hands clenched into fists at your side. “Yes.”

He looks surprised, then coughs to cover whatever expression he’s trying to hide. “Oh. Uh, it’s nice.”

You don’t respond, handing him your duffle bag before climbing silently into the front seat. This is going to be a long ride.

Satoru sets your bag in the backseat and hangs the dress on the hanger hook. Then he climbs inside, his long legs stretching forward to hitting the pedals. You have to force yourself to avert your gaze.

“So,” he says as he shifts gears and pulls away from the curb, “tell me about yourself.”

You grunt softly, turning back to him with an incredulous air. “What, you wanna make small talk for the three hour drive?”

You watch the corner of his mouth quirk up in a small smile, though his eyes stay on the road. “Maybe.”

“You just can’t stand silence, can you?”

“I can’t stand awkward silence. There’s a difference.”

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.”

He huffs a laugh. “Fine. Sit in silence then.” He reaches over and turns up the volume of his music, drowning out his supposed awkward silence.

You’re quiet for a while, letting his music play as you watch the city fade into suburbs. It’s been a long time since you’ve been out of the city; you used to go with your grandfather, used to visit the surrounding countryside and take hikes, but that went to the wayside when he got sick–

You blink away the thoughts. Now’s not the time for reminiscing. Instead, you turn and raise an eyebrow at your travel companion. “Seriously?”

“What?”

You gesture to the infotainment center, where the title of the currently playing song proudly scrolls: “PARTY IN THE U.S.A.” You say, “This is what you listen to? In a freaking Maserati?”

He grins. “I didn’t think you knew what kind of car this was.”

“I do. And I also know your taste in music sucks.”

He gasps and puts a hand to his chest, looking scandalized. His other hand stays on the steering wheel, and you can’t help but notice how casual he looks, how relaxed, how attractive. “My music taste is great.”

“I think you’re objectively wrong.” Right when he’s about to respond, the starting notes of “Fergalicious” start playing. “Oh my god.”

He laughs, looking entirely too amused at your disdain. “What’s good music, then, in your opinion?” he asks, before singing along under his breath, “Fergalicious, definition: make them boys go loco.”

Your own lips curve into a smile, now. You reach towards his phone, raising your eyebrows. Silently asking.

He chuckles and unlocks his phone for you. “I’m trusting you with my life here,” he teases.

You take it and hide the screen from him as you scroll through Spotify, bringing up a new song to listen to. Something with bass and a good beat. You glance over at him as you select a song by Ashnikko you like.

He glances at the screen on the dash. “Isn’t this from Arcane?”

“Yeah.” He laughs softly, shaking his head. You frown. “What now?”

“Nothing.” His lips are twitching, fighting a smile. You just scowl at him, waiting for him to speak. Finally he does. “You’re just a nerd.”

“Am not!”

“Yes you are.” He laughs again. “Even your definition of a ‘good’ song is from a nerdy little show. Admit it.”

You scowl again, but it’s tinged with playfulness this time. You glance out the window, watching the suburbs finally turn to countryside. “Fine,” you mutter, hiding your smile out the window. “I’m a nerd.”

You can’t see his smile, but you can feel his amusement in the silence. Quickly, before he can respond, you continue, “But so are you!”

He just chuckles. “I’m not denying that, sweetheart. You should ask me about digimon sometime if you really want me to get on a nerdy tangent.”

Sweetheart. You try not to let the nickname spread heat through you, but you can’t help it; your cheeks flush slightly at the nickname. You’re glad you’re still looking out the window. “Tell me about it, then.”

He just snorts and shakes his head. “That’s not a first date type of material,” he teases. “Ask me on the third.”

You snort, too, smiling out the window. You’re not sure if he’s kidding, but the idea of a second or even third date doesn't sound too bad, despite how insufferable you thought he was when he first asked. “Yeah, alright.”

You can see his reflection in the window as he turns to look at you curiously. He says, “So…” and reaches over to turn down the music a little. He clears his throat. “What do you do for work?”

You sigh softly. Seems that you were unable to delay the small talk for long. You turn back to him. “I’m a program leader at the public library.”

He looks surprised. He glances over at you again before returning his attention to the highway. “So you really are a little nerd! What does that entail?”

You shrug. “Basically just creating events for the community. I hang out with a lot of old ladies.”

He laughs at that. “So, what, you all get together and knit together?”

“Basically.” He’s not far off. He laughs again. “I run book clubs, craft nights, stuff like that. Along with, you know, other librarian things.”

He hums, nodding. You’re surprised to find him actively listening; you thought he’d just blow off your job as boring. “Do you like it?”

You nod, expression earnest. “I love it. Let’s me meet new people and stuff.” He nods again. You ask, “What do you do?”

“I’m a high school teacher,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow, looking him over. “You, a teacher? Driving a car like this?”

He smiles and explains, “My family’s pretty well-off. I’m a trust fund baby.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding as the pieces click into place. It leaves a little bit of a bad taste in your mouth; your grandfather couldn’t leave much of anything for you in an inheritance, and here Satoru is, able to fly through life with ease.

He chuckles, sensing your frustration. “That change your opinion of me?”

“No,” you say teasingly, “my opinion of you was already pretty low.”

He huffs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Brat,” he mutters, fighting a smile.

You smile back. Then you ask, “Where do you work? If you don’t mind my asking.”

He shrugs. “It’s no problem. I work at Tokyo Tech.”

“Cool. Do you like it?”

He nods, watching the road. “I like training the next generation.” He glances over with a smile. “Seems like you’re partial to the old generation, huh?”

You shrug. “I guess you could say that.”

“Any particular reason?”

You take a deep breath, not really wanting to talk about it, but what else are you going to chat about for three hours. “Uh, my grandparents raised me. Mom walked out, wasn’t able to care for me as a kid. So they really stepped in and did their best for me.”

He nods a little, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “It sounds like you’re glad to have them,” he observes.

You just nod, glancing out the window. You don’t say more, and he doesn’t push.

The rest of the drive passes much like that, each of you occasionally asking a question while the music plays through the speakers. You take turns playing music you like, and you find yourself laughing a lot with him. Not only is he aggravatingly handsome, and rich, and charming, but he’s also funny.

All of a sudden, staying in the same hotel room with him doesn’t seem so bad.

1727, Bahamas

“So,” Captain Gojo says, propping his boots up on the desk and leaning back in his seat with a wide smirk, “why should we take you aboard?”

You, dressed in loose trousers tucked into your own boots and a gray reefer jacket, with a jagged haircut tucked under a red bandana, frown. “You’re asking for my qualifications?”

The captain inclines his head. “Naturally. I don’t take any old scallywag on my ship, Mister…?” He trails off, raising an eyebrow for your name.

You give him your last name. It wouldn’t lead him anywhere; it’s a name that means nothing, gives you nothing. It’s a useless name for a useless family that you left behind in the dust to come find treasure, adventure, the seven seas.

Gojo drops his feet to the floor and folds his hands together, leaning onto his desk. He levels a serious look with you, blue eyes bright and searching. “As I said, I don’t take just anyone. So, either tell me why I should take you, or I’d kindly ask you to leave my ship before we force you off.”

You clench your teeth. You didn’t run away to be cast away before you even embarked on your first journey. You didn’t cut your hair, bind your chest, and rub filth on your face in order to be told ‘no’ and to return to your family with nothing to show for your endeavors.

So you say, gaze matching the captain’s, “My father fixes firearms. He taught me a few things. I’ve trained to be a firearm specialist. I can shoot, and I’m willing to do any jobs you give me, but I work best with my hands.”

Captain Gojo looks down at your hands resting on the desk – feminine hands, soft only superficially dirty. You hope he can’t see those traits in them. He looks back at you and squints thoughtfully. “Is that all?” he drawls.

You shake your head, and that’s when you sweep aside your coat and reveal three brand new, beautiful pistols hidden on your person. The captain’s guards immediately rise to protect him, to apprehend you, but he just raises a hand to stop them, eyes locked on the firearms.

You do not reach for them, hands raised obediently in the air. You say, “I bring gifts.”

And with that, the captain gives a slow, sly smile, and nods. “Alright, kid,” he says, reaching across the desk to shake your hand. “You have yourself a position among my crew. Welcome aboard.”

2024, Karuizawa

When you arrive in the small town where the wedding is being held, Satoru turns to look at you. “Hungry?”

You nod eagerly. “Starving.”

He glances out the window, eyes searching from behind his sunglasses. “Feel like having soba?”

“Sure.”

He pulls off and parks, and you can see his car attracting some eyes from pedestrians passing by. You watch their eyes trail over the luxury vehicle, and then you glance over at Satoru, who’s smiling at you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks. “To have something that others envy.”

You watch him for a moment before nodding a little. “Yeah,” you say, finally looking away. “It does.”

The two of you have a simple dinner together, still allowing yourself time for small talk. He asks about work, and your hobbies, and stays away from family, for which you’re grateful. And you ask about him, until your bowls are empty and you’re still left chatting animatedly across the table.

Then he leads you back towards the car, and this time he opens the door for you. You can’t help but blush as you thank him.

The drive to the hotel is another half hour; the town you’re staying in is outside of Karuizawa, and the hotel is, indeed, the only one in town. Once you’re arrived and parked, Satoru steps out and takes your bags, while you take the garment bags, holding them over your shoulder by the hangers. You walk inside and towards the check-in desk.

The front desk lady smiles and greets you. “Hello. What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Satoru Gojo,” he says, voice low and smooth as he checks in. You look around at the quaint hotel, trying not to listen to the financial gift he’s giving you for not making you pay him for your half of the room. Then when he’s given two keycards, he hands you the second one and leads you down the hallway.

“Satoru!” a voice calls, and you assume it’s his friend, perhaps even the one who’s getting married. You turn, and so does Satoru, and your smile goes strained when you don’t see a friend.

You see someone with the same striking white hair as him – clearly a family trait.

“Hey, Akari,” he greets, nodding politely, since he’s unable to wave with both hands occupied by your luggage.

Akari walks over, smiling brightly. “Hey,” she says, and turns her attention to you. “You must be the famed date! I’m Akari, nice to meet you.” She sticks out a hand.

You fumble with the garment bags before shaking her hand, internally cringing at how sweaty your hand must be. You tell her your name, and then you ask. “And you’re Satoru’s…?”

“Cousin! Though, not the lucky bride-to-be, that’s Emi. You’ll get to meet her tomorrow, of course, and the others!”

“Great,” you say, though you seem to have forgotten your enthusiasm at the door.

It’s silent between the three of you for a moment. Then Akari speaks again. “Well, it was nice to meet you!” she says, and you and Satoru echo the sentiment. Then you all, awkwardly, walk in the same direction towards your rooms.

“Oh!” she exclaims, laughing sheepishly as you come to your door. “It looks like we’re neighbors! Good to know.”

You smile weakly before reaching for your card and trying to shove it into the slot with shaky hands. Jesus, could you just get this conversation over with–

Satoru reaches around you to steady your hand, and the door unlocks with a click. He jerks his chin towards Akari. “See you tomorrow,” he says before ushering you inside.

“Bye!” she chirps, and you can feel her curious eyes on you as Satoru shuts the door, locking it behind you.

You look up at him, gritting out under your breath, “You didn’t tell me this was your cousin’s wedding. You said ‘friend.’”

He shrugs, entirely nonchalant. “What’s the difference?”

You give him an incredulous look. “‘What’s the difference?’ Satoru, you’re supposed to warn someone before they meet your entire family!”

He just smiles. “I was going to tell you tonight. Surprise!”

You just groan and push your way past him into the hotel room.

It’s a very nice room, with a large king-sized bed by the windows and a small kitchen island with a bar.

You are, despite your sour mood, impressed by the accommodations. Accommodations which are, of course, free to you, since Satoru seems to be loaded. “Wow,” you say appreciatively.

He grins and places your duffle bag on the bed, beside his small roller carry on. You hang your dress and his suit in the small closet. “Nice, right?”

“Very.” You come over and grab your bag, digging through until you find your bag of toiletries and your pajamas. “Need the bathroom?”

“Nope, go ahead.”

You wash up at the sink, brushing your teeth and starting your skin care. You poke at a particular pimple you’re hoping to cover up with makeup tomorrow, now cursing its existence after finding out this is Satoru’s family you’ll be meeting.

You don’t know why it seems so important to you. It’s not like you guys are really dating, anyway.

You sigh and put down the washcloth, changing into your pajama shorts and t-shirt. Part of you wishes you’d packed something a little cuter, but then you shake the thought away; absolutely no funny business will be happening while his family members are in the next room.

You walk out of the bathroom, padding over to the bed. You climb in on one end, watching Satoru whistle happily on his way to the bathroom. He doesn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest with sharing the room with you. Part of you wonders how often he’s done something like this. You just shake your head at the idea; you don’t want to know.

When he comes back, he’s dressed in sweatpants and a comfy looking white t-shirt. You have to fight to keep your eyes from trailing over his arms, his chest, his face. You look away, digging through your bag for the book you packed. You settle yourself against the pillows, opening up the book and setting your bookmark on your lap.

He chuckles as he climbs into bed beside you. You glance at him and ask, “What?”

He leans in towards your ear, close enough you can feel his minty fresh breath, and whispers, “You’re a nerd.” Then he pulls away, grinning, and sinks under the covers, rolling over so his back is to you.

You’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t want to hang out anymore. But you can’t blame him; you did spend several hours in the car, and another hour at dinner. You suppose he’s earned some quiet time.

He sits on his phone for a while, the sound of TikToks filling the quiet room as you try to focus on reading. Every so often, he lets out a soft snort at whatever he’s watching, and you can’t help but smile at the sound each time. Then, after a half hour or so of scrolling, he reaches over and turns off the light on his bedside table.

“Night,” he says, bringing the blanket up around his shoulders.

“Good night,” you reply, voice soft.

You stay up reading for a while longer.

You can’t help but facepalm and let out a soft groan when he does, indeed, snore softly into his pillow.

additional notes: everyone just pretend they have Macy's in Japan, okay? hi! i know this chapter was pretty americanized, with the long drive and everything, but i hope it was still enjoyable! i really tried my best to get some good banter in here, so i hope you liked it! i love these two, and i hope you do too. that's it! see you in the next one :))

thank you for reading! -luna xx link to ao3 | next

(taglist: @inlove-maze, @jotarohat, @moonchhu, @elitesanjisimp)

#banners by cafekitsune #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #fanfiction

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didyoulookforme · 3 days ago

Note

1 with post Matty PLSSSS

Allllll my love,

Belle <3

overwhelmed, but happy crying during sex

from the prompt list here

so, about a year after you officially became a couple, you finally ask if he wants to move in with you :') i mean, he might as well be the third member of the household (counting sweet pup kevin) since he already has a ton of his clothes there and even his own spot in your closet and dresser, lol. obviously, matty is overjoyed and totally emotional when you ask because what do you mean the woman of his literal (wet) dreams is letting him share your space?!

anyway, he says yes and that night he can’t stop beaming when he gets back home, endlessly telling hann about how ecstatic he is, how perfect you are, and how he’d do anything for you. he nearly forgets that now poor adam is going to be without a roommate, but adam is happy for him and, tbh, it might not be the worst thing to avoid waking up to matty roaming around in his boxers every morning.

a couple of weeks later, it's moving day and matty wakes up super early, freaking out about what if it doesn't work out, or if you get sick of him, or if he ends up annoying you. he calls you around 6:30 am to check for the one millionth time if you're sure. you're genuinely endeared by him (it's rare to see him lose his shit) so you just smile while comforting him and assure him that you'll want this as long as he does.

the boys and bff mandy have all offered to help out, but matty is the first one to show up at your place to drop off a few things before the bigger move. when you open the door, he's greeted with a big hug and dozens of kisses that instantly melt his heart because you're so excited the day is finally here. he's honestly overwhelmed by all the emotions swirling inside him. and it's not helped when you lead him to what used to be your office and studio, which is now completely empty. he's obviously confused and he tries so hard to lose it as you explain that you moved your stuff to a smaller room so he could have a space to truly call his own. he nearly drops the box he's carrying, scoops you up, and whispers a flurry of "i love you so fucking much, darling," "are you sure?" and "you don't have to do this."

with everyone helping, it doesn't take long for them to get everything to your place, meaning you're done in just a few hours and have the rest of the day to get matty settled in. you've definitely noticed that matty is quieter than usual, and he reassures you that he's okay. that he's just always thought of this day when you would actually live together, and now that it's here, it feels like a dream.

you spend much of the day organizing what turns out to be matty's new music space, quietly working while records play in the background. once you decide you're done, you suggest showering together because, you know, a move is sweaty, lol, and you do, spending a lot of time holding each other and making out. when you finish, it's sweet and domestic, getting dressed side by side. a routine you've done plenty of times before, but now it's different because it can happen every day if you want it. matty can't help but smirk as you immediately rummage through his clothes to find one of his favourite shirts for you to wear. just seeing you in his shirt and panties, so damn comfortable with him, is the definition of perfection.

you order dinner and share some wine while cuddling on the couch with sweet kev, occasionally stealing glances at each other like you can’t believe this is really happening. and again, when you do something super domestic such as washing the dishes together, it tugs at matty's heartstrings and he's now beyond overjoyed, feeling almost scared at how fucking happy and at home he feels.

when you finally end up in bed, it doesn't take long for you two to start making out again, but it's different than most times. it's very slow and gentle compared to your usual eagerness to devour each other from the first second. he's on top of you, arms on either side of your head while your fingers are tangled in each other's. you're secretly over the moon as you fucking love it when he's very careful with you so you're savouring every single second of his gentle kisses on your lips, every now and then biting and pulling at his bottom lip to make him laugh (and moan). matty's head is spinning at how good it feels to grind himself against you, really enjoying every single time your hips meet. he's so lost in the intimacy that he barely registers when you ask if you can have sex, and who is he to deny you? with one last peck on your nose, he gets up to undress and you're about to do the same, but he reaches over to stop you. "please keep on the shirt." so you drop your arms and only take off your underwear, very enamoured at the fact that he loves it when you wear his clothes.

matty ends up under the bedding and on top of you again, letting you jerk him off a bit before you guide him inside you. he's so fucking gentle that you feel every single inch of him fill you up, and when he bottoms out, he just stays there for a moment while kissing you again, because honestly, he doesn't know how long he'll last once he starts moving his hips. but he eventually does, going so slowly as he nestles his face in the crook of your neck, both of you holding each other so tight as he moves inside you. he keeps moaning against your ear, making the prettiest sounds, but you immediately notice when his voice starts to quiver so you quietly ask him to stop. you cup his face so you can look at him, and a knot forms in your throat when you see his glassy eyes and the tears rolling down his cheeks.

your mind starts to race a thousand miles per second, and you guess the worry in your eyes is obvious because he reassures you right away that he's okay. more than okay, in fact. he's just overwhelmed because he's now here in your home. "our home," you correct him, which makes him cry a bit more, and his voice gets shakier as he mentions that he's so fucking happy but doesn't want to mess things up with you ever again because this is all he's ever wanted. you feel some of his tears fall on your face and it reminds you there's only been one other time you've seen matty cry, and it makes you feel so many things at how open he's being with you as you know emotions are not easy for him.

you have to focus so hard not to cry yourself, but you somehow manage. instead, you wipe away the tears from his cheeks, replacing them with small kisses while telling him you love him over and over again. "you know that, right?" he slowly nods, shutting his eyes tight as he tries his best not to cry on you again. you feel his breath start to slow and his shoulders relax before he kisses you, telling you he loves you too. more than anything.

after a few more minutes of kissing, you can't help but giggle at how distraught he is as he apologizes for crying while he's still inside you. "kinda romantic and sexy," you tease, and he rolls his eyes so hard at that before mumbling "if you say so" against your lips. he makes sure to ask if he can start moving again, and you eagerly respond by grabbing his ass and guiding him back into you. it's still all so sweet and tender, yet it feels so fucking good because of how deep he is inside you. he also asks if he can cum inside you, but only does so after you've finished, too, always wanting to make sure his girl is taken care of.

it ends up with both of you being super sweaty and in need of another shower, where you finally ask if he can fuck you hard, which he obviously does, and now you're the one crying. not from sadness or nerves, but because of how good he's railing you against the bathroom tile <3

#belle thank youuuuuuu <33333 #apparently i don't know what a blurb is because these things always end up much longer than expected lol #postmatty au #messages #prompt asks #postmatty asks

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hueberryshortcake · 1 day ago

Note

Have you read any good Darkwing fics?

if you're looking for oddly specific answers to this question i am your man.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566572/chapters/28622120

^ Darkwing Duck and the Ghoulish Ghost Cat of St. Canard - i haven't read this one in a little but i loved it! elmo sputterspark and drakey mallard shenanigans, morgana was In It, spooky stuff galore. i think it was 13,000 words and 8 chapters but i already closed my tab sorry

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542129

^ Cave In - dt17 dwd where huey is gizmoduck's sidekick and quiverwing quack is the bane of darkwing duck's existence. neither huey nor fenton can figure out why those two put up with each other or why dw seems to hate this random loud mouthed child with everything he's got. (spoiler alert: he doesn't.) 2500 words, 1 chapter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18993286

^ Embryonic Rockabilly Polka-Dotted Fighter Pilots - i haven't read this in a long time. author's summary simply says "There are not enough words in the English language to accurately describe the contents of this story." my personal bookmark notes simply read "deranged. amazing." do with that what you will. then read this author's other work that also came from 1998. 4600 words, 1 chapter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29875023/chapters/73517133

^ The Way the Story Goes (Story for Baby Girl) - if you read this you may end up with a stomach ache. it is worth the stomach ache.

"So, here’s a story for you. Now, as far as storytelling goes, there are a few rules:

1.) As my baby girl reminds me: Everyone is their own main character

2.) As my dad told me: You never finish the story you thought you started

3.) And, as my wife taught me: At one point, everything that every character has ever done made sense to them"

i can't do it justice here, just. read it. 39,900 words, 12 chapters

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42041061/chapters/105554823

^ Be Careful What You Wish For - one of my favs!!!!! i go back to this so much and (spoilers) the sequel is currently updating which was like a dream come true for me lol. drake and gosalyn are butting heads as usual and gos makes a wish that has unexpected consequences. 22,300 words, 8 chapters

okay now i am going to be self centered and share my own stories. i really like them - this is due to the fact that my target audience was myself

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55941160

^ brilliant - a little exploration of quiverwing duck, what he gained, what he lost, what he salvaged. 2200 words, 1 chapter

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58056823

^ professor waddlemeyer was never killed, gosalyn was never sent to the orphanage, and she was never rescued by darkwing duck. but quiverwing quack still appears, fighting crime after school, and darkwing takes her under his wing. 7900 words, 1 chapter. this might have a sequel if i can GET MY ACT TOGETHER

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59364523

^ The Last Enemy. my magnum opus. a year into quiverwing duck's new existence, a bit of accidental necromancy reunites him with a very disoriented gosalyn who can't remember enough to understand how or why her life is suddenly very different. it has everything. drake is vaguely culturally idahoan if you catch my meaning. launchpad is less-vaguely jewish. morgana is there and she's doing great sweetie. this is possibly the most self indulgent thing i have ever written and please read it. 9600 words 1 chapter

ok bonne nuit!

#darkwing duck #dt17 #ducktales #drake mallard #dwd91 #ask #as time goes by

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schlattsdarling · 3 days ago

Text

Promt List !!

Send me as many requests at you want, if you want smut or have a plot in mind, tell me!

Fluff

1. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

2. "Is that my shirt?"

3. "We'd make such a cute couple.

4. "Are you flirting with me?"

5. "Well, since you aren't feeling too good,

maybe this could help?"

6. "I could kiss you right now.

7. "You gave it your best shot. That's all

anyone could ever ask of you.

8. "Can we just stay in bed?"

9. "Let me kiss it better."

10. "Stop moving I'm almost done!"

11. "You look like shit."

12. "Just pretend to be my date."

13. "You came." "You called.'

14. "I'm right here."

15. "| like you just the way you are.

16. "Please, stay.'

17. "You owe me a favour."

'Can I ask you a favour?"

19. "Would it be okay if I kissed you?"

20. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

21. "Can I come over?"

22. "Why don't you take a picture? It' last

longer."

23. "That is by far the stupidest thing you've

ever done."

24. "How much did you drink?"

25. "How drunk was I?"

26. "You make me want to be better."

27. "Come back to bed."

28. "You're lucky I love you."

29. "You kissed me last night.

30. "They're coming. Kiss me!"

31. "I really need you right now.

32. "Wanna bet?"

33. "Let me take care of you."

34. "Say that again? But slower."

35. "Going somewhere?"

36. "I heard that!"

37. "Why are you awake?"

38. "This isn't what it looks like!"

39. "Go to sleep."

Angst

40. "Is this the end? After everything we've

been through?"

41. "We shouldn't be doing this."

42. "I needed you, and you weren't there!'

43. "You're always leaving me.

44. "Why do you hate me so much?"

45. "The fuck was that?"

46. "It's not you that I don't trust, it's them."

47. "Can you please come get me?"

48. "lIl stay as long as you need.

49. "Ssshh, it's okay, l've got you.

50. "I don't deserve you.

51. "We used to spend every day together.

Are you telling me that staying the night in

the same place is too close a proximity for us

to share?"

52. "Maybe the fact that we have such a hard

time staying away from each other is saying

something."

53. "I thought we were more than whatever..

this is. But clearly, I was wrong.

54. "Why can't you admit to anything? This

is your fault!"

55. "What are we?"

56. "Things would be fine if you didn't go

and run your mouth!

57. "I didn't know you felt this way.

58. "Do you know how stupid you made me

feel?"

59. "Why don't you love me back?" "You're

drunk, let's get you home."

60. "I don't think I can do this anymore. Not

with you."

61. "I'm not allowed to be upset because

they were hanging all over you?"

62. "You're supposed to be mine!"

63. "I'm not jealous, fuck off."

64. "Don't cause a scene, please.'

65. "| didn't mean to fall in love with you,

really didn't and I'm sorry."

66. "I don't want to be the second option

anymore."

67. "| will always find you."

#jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt #schlatt x reader #jschlatt smut #schlatt smut #jschlatt fluff #ted nivison #ted nivison fluff #jschlatt angst #ted nivision x reader #ted nivison smut

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rafesangelita · 4 months ago

Text

♡ ࣪when a movie night with your best friend ends with you and rafe naked underneath your blankets..

warnings: bsf!rafe, fluff, cuddling, sexual tension, reader is a little bold in this one, heavy petting, tit play, dirty talk, degradation, oral (m. & f. receiving), face sitting, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, biting, finger sucking, size kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms

a/n: movie night dates are my fav <3

wc: 2.3k

“they have the whole twilight series on here..” rafe looked away from your tv, and at your bare legs as you stepped out of your bathroom, a pair of sleep shorts and one of his t-shirts adorning your body. “oooh, put it on!” you joined rafe under the covers, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. anyone from the outside would’ve looked at you and rafe and thought you two were a little too close to be best friends, and while they might be right, you and rafe loved being close like this.

“i’m surprised you’re wearing a sweatshirt,” you tugged at the soft material, “i like it.” rafe looked down at you, the corner of his lips quirking. “yeah?” he pulled you closer, his large palm splaying across your lower back. you hummed breathing in his cologne. he was so warm and just so big, you couldn’t help but snuggle into him more. the movie started playing, the soundtrack playing softly in the background as you two fell into a comfortable silence.

“these are the movies you watch strictly for the vibes, because the acting is terrible.” you gasped at rafe’s words, unintentionally moving against his front side. he cursed under his breath, backing away slightly so you couldn’t feel his hardening cock through his sweatpants. “it’s not that bad.” you giggled, backing up on him which only made rafe shut his eyes. he was trying his hardest to keep his cool right now, but with the way your shorts rode up past the curves of your ass, it was nearly impossible.

rafe was growing fidgety, his movements not going unnoticed by you. “are you okay?” you turned around, his cheeks flushed pink as a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin. “yeah— yes, i’m just uhm.. i’m burning up in this sweatshirt.” you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your fingers dancing along the hem of his shirt. “so take it off.” rafe swallowed thickly, feeling your nails graze just above his v-line. “what?” he laughed nervously, waiting for you to say you were kidding. “..take it off.” you repeated, watching the way rafe’s chest rose up and down with every breath.

even though you two constantly teetered the edge of what friends did and didn’t do, rafe always made sure to never cross the line.. unless you wanted to, of course. “a-are you sure?” rafe was already going through a mental battle, his jaw ticking when you took it upon yourself to pull his sweatshirt over his head. tonguing his cheek, you and rafe shared a glance before you averted your attention back to the tv. “can you hold me?” rafe knew he couldn’t say no to you, nor did he want to.

letting you rest your head on his bicep, he pulled you against his chest, his hand slipping under your, his, t-shirt. it was hard to focus with his hand on your tummy, his hard-on nestled between your cheeks while his breath fanned the back of your neck. you only lasted ten minutes like this, your hips moving on their own accord as rafe trailed his hand further up your torso. he froze when he felt the swells of your breasts against his thumb, a curse leaving his lips as he whispered in your ear.

“you’re fuckin’ killing me right now.” he groaned, taking one of your tits in his hand. you arched into him, reaching behind you to palm him through his pants. resting his head in the curve of your neck, rafe licked a stripe up against your skin, his tongue running over the sensitive spot of your flesh. you moaned, the sound making his cock stir. you’ve wanted rafe like this for so long, you couldn’t believe he was finally touching you the way you’ve wanted for so long.

craning your neck so you could see his face, you continued stroking him through his pants, his lips finding yours before he slipped his freehand under the waistband of your shorts. “no panties either? fuck, you were just begging for this cock weren’t you?” you whimpered a ‘mhmmm’, before you felt his middle and ring fingers dip between your folds. “what the fuck? you’re soaked..” he grazed your clit, your body jolting in pure unadulterated pleasure.

“when did that happen, huh? was it when you took my shirt off?” rafe slid his fingers down to your entrance, gathering the pool of wetness there before gliding his digits back up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, “or was it when you got under the covers and put your ass where i needed you most?” he whispered the last part, admiring the way your eyebrows knitted together in desperation, your lips glossy with his spit.

“please, i need you so bad, ray!” you cried, refraining from whining when he took his hand out of your shorts. bringing his digits up to your lips, you welcomed them in your mouth where rafe watched you suck your sweetness off of them. “you’re such a fuckin’ whore, i didn’t even need to ask you to do that.” he watched with a dark gaze, your tongue swirling around his fingers and sucking them as if it was something else. “you look so pretty when you’re cock hungry..” rafe teased, pulling away from you to take his sweats off.

you got on your knees, crawling to the edge of the bed where rafe stood fully naked. he was so hard, your mouth practically watered when he pulled you closer to him by your chin. “can i please taste you?” you gazed up at him with those watery eyes as he threaded his fingers through your hair. “oh, how sweet of you for asking,” he tugged at the hair on your scalp, his cock just centimeters away from your face, “do whatever you want with it, ‘pretty. it’s yours.”

you gave him that smile that made him fall in love with you all those months ago before licking a stripe up from the underside of his length, lapping up the pre cum that managed to dribble down his cock. rafe was mesmerized as he watched you, your pretty eyes never leaving his as you managed to wrap your lips around his sensitive tip. he was so big compared to you, he worried about how you’d be able to take it all. slowly, you kept lowering yourself until he bottomed out in your throat, the man above you in complete awe.

rafe was turned on beyond belief, the urge to just wrap his fists in your hair and fuck your face until you’re choking on it made him feral. you stilled, swallowing around him until he had to pull you off. “are you fucking with me right now? you want me to cum inside your mouth that bad?” he squeezed your cheeks together, landing a harsh smack to your ass. you yelped, nodding frantically as he pulled his t-shirt off of your body. with your tits now on full display, rafe balled your hair up and lowered you down onto his cock again.

you doubled over, your back arching as he thrusted into your mouth at an unforgiving speed. the sounds coming from between your lips were nothing short of obscene, heavy tears now rolling down your cheeks. rafe couldn’t formulate a single thought, his brain empty as he reveled in the feeling of your throat taking his cock. he fantasized about this for so many nights, wanting nothing more than to have you at his mercy and letting him take you however he wanted. fuck, he just knew you’d let him too. his pretty little best friend finally taking his cock, he could just cum at the thought.

as if rafe was brought back to earth from floating on cloud nine, he groaned when the band in his stomach snapped, his high washing over him in waves of pure ecstasy. his cum shot down your throat, the thick white ropes painting your tongue as his thrusts grew sloppy, his hold on your hair loosening as he let out a string of curses. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..” rafe lost himself like never before, a hiss leaving his lips as you kept bobbing your head, desperate to take each drop.

“y/n—” he shuddered, pushing you away before you could keep going. overstimulated and out of breath, rafe pulled you up to look at your face. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t think i was going to finish that fast..” he was slightly embarrassed, but even more confused as you shook your head. “it’s okay!” you pecked his lips, batting your eyelashes at him as if he didn’t just cum in your mouth without permission. “where is it?” he cupped your cheeks, your mouth clean of any cum.

“what?” you whispered, equally as confused until rafe’s eyes widened in realization. “did you fuckin’ swallow it?” his thumbs hooked between your lips, opening your mouth to check for himself. he couldn’t put into words how bad he wanted you right now, the simple fact that you took what he gave you so eagerly made him tackle you back down on your sheets, his lips melting against yours in an instant. you welcomed him between your thighs, moaning in his mouth as he took your shorts off.

“sit on my face.” he rolled over, pulling you on top of him. you didn’t have any time to process what was happening before he pulled your thighs down on either sides of his head. rafe wasted no time, his tongue flicking between your folds. you gasped, scrambling to grip his arms as he dragged your hips across his mouth. “you taste amazing, holy fuck.” he circled your clit, sucking the sensitive bud before digging his fingers into your skin.

you cried out, eyes fluttering shut as you clenched around nothing. “f-feels so good, rafe!” the man beneath you moaned, his chest filling with pride as you writhed on top of him. despite his mouth working wonders on your soaked cunt, you felt so empty, wanting nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch of his cock. “need you inside, ray,” you looked down at him, “please fuck me.” grunting at your words, rafe gave you a nod.

standing up on shaky legs, rafe sat up against your headboard before pulling you back down on his lap. “wait— i don’t have any condoms.” rafe was panting, his lips glistening with your slick. “so?” you kissed him, grinding helplessly on his cock. “you’re okay with that? if i don’t use one?” you hummed, trailing kissing across his toned chest. “fuck— okay, baby.” rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up as you reached down and lined him up with entrance. making sure you were looking at his face, rafe lowered you slowly, both of you moaning as you sunk down on his length.

you felt so warm and tight wrapped around him like this, both of you shuddering once he filled you to the hilt. “you okay?” his voice was gentle as he spoke to you, his fingers stroking your chin as you nodded. “yes, i just feel so full.” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “listen to me,” rafe started, “you’re not just my best friend after this. me and you? we’re together, alright?” you blinked, a smile gracing your features as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “really?” you felt giddy, your small laugh being cut short when he moved his hips.

“yes, really..” he trailed off, “i need you to know that i love and respect you, because the way i’m gonna fuck you right now? you just might forget.” you were about to question what he meant when he bear hugged you and started thrusting into you from below, your lips parting as a shriek ripped itself from your throat. “oh, fuck!” you rarely cursed, the word throwing rafe for a loop before he smirked to himself. “you cussing now, angel? is the dick that good?” you buried your face in his chest, unintentionally biting down on the flesh as his thighs smacked the bottoms of your ass.

rafe’s force was brutal, his tip kissing your cervix with every movement of his hips. “yes! yes, it’s so good!” you cried, holding onto him for dear life. “i’ve thought about doing this for so long,” he groaned, “just’ wanted you to be mine already.” rafe looked up at you as if you weren’t real, like you’d disappear into thin air if he didn’t hold you tight. he continued like this, leaving open mouth kisses between your neck and shoulder, your head knocking against the headboard.

“shit— sorry.” he laid you down, pinning your knees to your chest before slamming back into you again. nothing could top this, you were sure of it. with rafe pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, and his fingers now rubbing your clit, it wasn’t long before you were sobbing out, both you and rafe kissing each other as your orgasm hit you, quite literally stealing your breath away. rafe came twice, unaware that he could even do that within a fifteen minute time span.

your stomach caved in as you attempted to breathe, your heart beating in your ears as your back arched off of your sheets. “..rafe,” your voice just barely above a whisper before you gasped, the man on top of you cradling your head as he watched you come undone beneath him. you were crying, moaning hysterically as your high came over you, rendering you speechless while rafe marveled at the sight. “too much?” you nodded, rafe pulling out before shushing you with a peck to your lips.

you were still going through the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pulled the blanket over you two, both of you flushed against each other as he eased you down from your high. as if the moment couldn’t get any better with you shyly smiling at each other, the song ‘roslyn’ started playing from the movie, both of you stroking the other’s skin. “are we really together now, or were you just thinking with your other head?” rafe laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “no i meant it.” he traced the curve of your lips, admiring you until you fell asleep.

6K notes · View notes

olailamajnoon · 2 months ago

Text

Dick on the phone, at 3 pm in the afternoon: Forgive me father for I have sinned.

Bruce, just woken up, squinting at the alarm clock: Dick it's 3 pm. what is this.

Dick, tearfully: My confession! I couldn't sleep, Bruce. I was the one who drove my hamster to suicide! I didn't feed him malt cookies like I was supposed to! He climbed on the exercise wheel and didn't stop running until he died.

Dick: *continues sobbing*

Bruce: okay so first of all.

Bruce: I'm not a priest.

Bruce: And second of all. Animals don't commit suicide.

Dick: Mari did!

Bruce: You named your male hamster after your mother...?

Dick: NOT THE POINT, BRUCE!

Dick: but yes.

Bruce, sighing: There's so much to unpack here I don't know where to start.

Dick: I killed him, Bruce. I should have died along with him!

Bruce:...

Bruce: It's possible that you've associated your hamster's death with the trauma of your parents' death, possibly because of shared names, and you've displaced your survivor's guilt from the first onto the second.

Dick:...

Dick: So what should I do.

Bruce: In my experience, the best way to deal with survivor's guilt is to save as many people as you can, possibly people in the same situation as the loved ones you have lost, hoping that the heroic nature of your deeds lets you sleep at night.

Dick: And what if that doesn't work?

Bruce: Then you drink. Get shitfaced drunk every time you feel a pang. Or you can pray to a nonexistent god and an uncaring universe.

Dick:...

Dick: If I come over, will you break out the good whiskey.

Bruce: I thought you'd never ask.

4K notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 2 months ago

Text

you belong with me — nanami kento.

"Hi….I’m Kento."

“Kento, huh.” you said, testing the name again like you were rolling it around in your head, trying to get the feel of it. After a moment, you nodded, satisfied.

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“That’s a good name.” You declared it with the authority of a five-year-old who had decided someone was officially worth their time.

“Your name’s okay too... I guess,” Kento replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost teasing.

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, romance, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, p to v sex, car sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my love, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, best friend! nanami kento, best friend! reader;

WORD COUNT: 14k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the final fic for 2024!!! wah, there's a lot to say. first and foremost, this fic would not be possible if it wasn't for the lovely person who commissioned it from me awhile back. please give them a lot of love and a lot of thanks.

they were my first ever commission here and still it flutters my heart with joy to have worked them. they were so good to me and continues to do so, with how they want to share this fic with you too.

also, i want to thank you all for sticking with me this 2024. it was a long road and a really painful time. i wrote to escape these painful times and i got through 2024 with you guys, just enjoying stories in my head. so thank you!!! there were a lot and there are still a lot i haven't published here.

i hope we continue to be together in 2025 too. i'll continue to write for both of us, to have solace in hard times. i bow to you in all ways that i can. thank you for being good to me!!! i love you all. this is kayu signing off for 2024. please have a lovely and wonderful new year and i'll see you on january 2025 <33333

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

EVEN AS A CHILD, YOU THOUGHT THAT HE BELONGED TO YOU. It was a childish little thing, you knew that much. But the moment you met Nanami Kento at the park when you were five years old, you just knew he was going to be your best friend.

And no one else could claim that from you. It wasn’t something you decided after a long debate in your head. If anything, it was instinctive, instant, like the way a flower turns toward the sun. What surprised you even more was that he didn’t seem to mind it.

That day, Nanami Kento was sitting on the swings, looking unusually serious for a kid. His little legs dangled, barely brushing the ground, and he rocked back and forth so slightly it was as if he wasn’t even moving. It was odd.

Most kids treated the swings like they were flying machines, pumping their legs wildly, laughing as they soared. But not Kento. He just sat there, his small hands gripping the chains, his gaze fixed on the ground as though it held all the answers to the universe.

It wasn’t sadness—not exactly. He didn’t look miserable or lonely. No, it was more like he was... satisfied. Content in his little bubble of silence, where the noise of the playground seemed to slide right past him.

You, however, were not content with his quiet. What could a kid possibly have to think about so deeply? Why wasn’t he running around, chasing someone, or shouting nonsense with the other kids? How could he stomach sitting there alone for so long?

The questions buzzed in your head, but more than that, you felt a pull. You wanted to know him. You wanted him to talk to you, to share whatever thoughts were hiding behind those serious brown eyes. And if he wouldn’t come to you, well, that was fine. You’d go to him.

You had the kind of confidence that only comes from being five years old and utterly fearless. The kind of confidence that didn’t know rejection or hesitation, only the certainty that the world would say "yes" if you asked it nicely enough.

So, you marched right up to him, your pigtails bouncing with each determined step. You put on your brightest smile, the kind of smile that has always gotten adults to bend down and coo. “Aren’t you just the sweetest?”

"Hi!" you announced, planting yourself firmly in front of him like he had no choice but to acknowledge you. You told him your name, grinning at him.

He blinked, startled out of his deep, secured thoughts to the sight of you. It took a while, but he lifted his caramel gaze to meet yours. For a moment, he just looked at you, like he wasn’t sure if you were real. No one has ever approached him before, well not as brazenly as this. Then, finally, he answered you back.

"Hi….I’m Kento."

“Kento, huh.” you said, testing the name again like you were rolling it around in your head, trying to get the feel of it. After a moment, you nodded, satisfied.

“Yeah, that’s my name.”

“That’s a good name.” You declared it with the authority of a five-year-old who had decided someone was officially worth their time.

“Your name’s okay too... I guess,” Kento replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost teasing.

“Huh? It’s pretty!” you retorted, your hands flying to your hips, a slight pout settling on your lips. “My mom thought hard about it, you know!”

“So did mine.” Kento shot back, a flicker of mischief lighting his normally serious face. Then, in a tone that was just a little too smug, he added, “It’s a good name too.”

For a second, you just stared at him, caught off guard by the slyness in his tone. Then, to your own surprise, you burst out laughing. It wasn’t just the words that got to you—it was the way he said them, so calm and deliberate, like he was throwing you a challenge wrapped in politeness.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you decided, grinning widely.

Kento raised an eyebrow at that, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. “I wasn’t trying to be.”

“Well, you are.” you said firmly, as though your opinion was final. “So, Kento, what do you wanna do? We could swing, or climb the jungle gym, or—oh! We could build a sandcastle!”

He blinked, caught off guard by your rapid-fire suggestions. “I don’t know,” he said slowly, like he wasn’t used to making decisions for playtime.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand without a second thought. “Then we’re doing the sandcastle! Come on, you’re gonna love it.”

He let you pull him along, his steps falling into rhythm with yours. “What if I don’t?” he asked, his voice so soft you almost missed the challenge in it.

“You will!” you said confidently, already imagining the crooked towers you’d build together. “Because I said so.”

Nanami Kento didn’t argue. Instead, he let out a quiet laugh, the sound so small you might’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. But you were paying attention, because something about this boy made you want to see every little detail he kept hidden in that quiet bubble of his.

From that moment, Kento Nanami became yours.

He knew that just as much as you did, even then.

And he was certain you were just as much his from then.

It wasn’t long into your days of playdates before you started staking your claim. You didn’t mean to—well, maybe you did. That really didn’t matter. What mattered was that you and Kento were having fun. Like the time some other kids approached while you and Kento were hard at work in the sandbox, trying to make your castle less crooked.

"Hey, kid!" one of them called, pointing at the little shovel in Kento’s hands. "Can I borrow that?"

"No way." you said firmly before Kento could even open his mouth. You shot the kid a look that clearly said back off. "We’re using it."

"But—"

"Nope. Sorry. It’s ours to play with." you cut them off, turning back to your castle as if the conversation was over. "Right, Kento?"

Kento hesitated for a second, glancing between you and the other kid, before quietly nodding. "Right."

The other kids' faces were filled with harsh looks at what you said. But you didn’t care. All they could do was huff and puff until they were blue in the face. You would never budge, not even if they wanted you too.

You were a tough girl. And you always got what you wanted. And you wanted your new friend and his attention only on you. So you didn't care what you did. You’ll keep your friend, no matter what they want.

Soon enough, they gave in and went to wander off. You can only smile. You didn’t feel the slightest bit bad. If anything, you had wished that they had left much sooner.

You turned to Kento with a satisfied smile. "Good. They’d just mess it up anyway. It’s better if we play together, only us!"

Kento tilted his head, watching you with that quiet curiosity he always seemed to have. You seemed to be content about playing just by yourself, by his side. Not many kids seem to be content about wanting to do that at all.

"Why don’t you let other kids play with us?" he asked.

You looked at him like the answer should’ve been obvious. "Because you’re my friend. I found you first. That means you’re mine."

For a moment, he just stared at you.

Then, slowly, that tiny, barely-there smile returned.

"Okay." he said simply, like he didn’t mind one bit.

══════════════════

YEARS DRAGGED ON IN A FLASH FOR BOTH OF YOU. From that day forward, Nanami Kento was your shadow. Or maybe you were his—it often depended on who was asking and whose ego needed inflating at the moment.

But that was just how it was between the two of you. And you were content about how that goes. You knew he was just the same. Not because you went around declaring it (okay, maybe you did once or twice), but because your actions left no room for doubt.

The two of you were inseparable, and everyone knew it. In a way, both your parents were both glad and concerned about it. Glad that you both were in each other’s lives, nurturing and caring for each other. That means you both weren’t lonely, and you both were happily playing with each other day in and out of school.

But concerned that you weren’t letting each other find any other people in your lives and explore other friendships. But that hardly mattered to the two of you. Both of you didn’t budge. You didn’t need anyone else. If anything, you only need each other. You were both content with that.

If there was a school project, Nanami Kento was your partner. No debates, no negotiation. You made sure of it every single time. It got to the point where teachers didn’t even bother asking anymore. By third grade, the class roster might as well have been printed with your name and his own written in bold under "Partners" for every project.

“Do you guys ever work with anyone else?” a classmate once dared to ask.

“Why would we?” you replied, looking genuinely puzzled. “He’s the best at making the physical parts.I don’t need anyone else.”

Kento, standing beside you, simply shrugged. “She’s good at explaining the messy, hard parts.” he said, so matter-of-factly it left no room for argument.

At lunch, it was no different. You always saved him a spot, waving him over like a VIP guest being ushered past the velvet rope. And no one dared sit with the two of you. Not after The Incident.

There was one time where a new kid made the mistake of sliding into the seat next to Nanami Kento before he got there. You didn’t even hesitate to act as quickly as you could.

“Excuse me, new kid.” you said, your voice sugary sweet, but your eyes narrowing dangerously.

“What?” the kid asked, glancing up at you.

“That’s his seat.” You pointed toward Kento, who was still in the lunch line, entirely oblivious to the showdown brewing at the table.

“Seats are for everyone in the school.” the kid said, with all the defiance of someone who didn’t know better yet. “I can sit wherever I want.”

And that’s when you did it. You reached out and swatted their hand as they tried to open their milk carton. You glared at him, almost as cold as the North Pole. He gulped at your glare. You were terrifying for a middle schooler.

“Go. Somewhere. Else.” you said, every word punctuated with a glare that could have sent a grown man packing. “That’s HIS seat!”

The new kid was terrified and immediately scurried off, muttering something about "territorial weirdos." — that was another thing for the school to whisper about in their past time. But you didn’t care.

By the time that he got out of the boy’s toilets, Nanami Kento got to the table, his spot was as clear as always, and you were already peeling the wrapper off the sandwich your mom made for him like nothing had happened.

“Thanks.” he said, sitting down without even asking why the kid from earlier was now eating on the other side of the cafeteria. He saw that of course. But he didn’t dare ask. “Thank your mom for me, about the sandwich.”

“You’re welcome.” you replied, sliding his sandwich over to him. You smiled as he opened his own lunch bag and started to pull out chocolate pudding in a tupperware. “Ohhhh, your mom thought of dessert!”

“Hm, I asked her.” Kento retorts back to you, smiling softly at your excitement. “Since you like chocolate pudding.”

“Thank your mama for me, okay?”

“Hm, I will.”

But of course, your protectiveness didn’t stop at lunch seats. If anything, you were protective of him to the point that it was already insane. If anyone so much as thought about teasing him, you were on them like a hawk. It didn’t matter if it was a stupid nickname or a poorly aimed joke. Nanami Kento wasn’t going to deal with any of it, not on your watch.

“Hey, Kento, why are you so quiet all the time?” one boy snickered during recess, his tone dripping with mockery.

Before Kento could even respond, you were already there, hands on your hips and glaring like you were ready to call down the wrath of the heavens. You glared at the kid as though he was meeting to face a thousand suns.

“Maybe he’s quiet because he doesn’t waste time saying dumb things like you do.” you snapped, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow for maximum effect. “Stop being a weird waste of space and leave him alone, you freak!”

The boy tried to stammer something in response, but you didn’t wait to hear it. You didn’t care for what they said. Only for what Kento says. You rolled your eyes at the kid, as though he bored you and looked away. Soon enough, you turned back to Kento, your expression softening immediately.

“Come on, Kento.” you said, grabbing his hand. “We’re going to the swings.”

Kento didn’t say much about that. But later, when that same boy made a malicious face at you from across the playground and had made a plan to chase you with a bottle of water to throw, Nanami Kento was the first to sense a threat against you.

He sighed heavily and without even looking up from his picture book muttered just loud enough for you to hear. “She’s faster than you, you know? She would wet your hair and make fun of you for it. So, I wouldn’t try it.”

The boy stayed far away after that.

And you could only giggle at what he said.

Nanami Kento knew you all too well.

But just as much as you were ready to fight Nanami Kento’s battles, he was ready to fight yours. And while you often took on challenges with the energy of a charging bull, Kento’s approach was quieter, deadlier—like a knife slipping between ribs before anyone even noticed it was there. He was just that type of kid, you think.

You first realized just how far Kento was willing to go for you one day when a group of older girls decided to target your ponytails. It wasn’t a big deal to you at first; you were used to the occasional teasing. But this time, something about their tone, or maybe the way they crowded around, everything about it had made your stomach twist.

“Why do you always look like you just rolled out of bed?” one of them sneered, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Her friends burst into laughter, as if she’d just delivered the punchline of the century. You bristled, the words forming on your tongue to snap back. But before you could speak, Kento appeared, slipping between you and the girls like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Why do you care?” he asked, his tone calm, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

It was such a simple question, but somehow it silenced the entire group. The girl blinked at him, thrown off by his directness. Kento yawned, as though he was already bored with her. She had never expected anything from him. Kento was quiet and reserved.

He was also popular and quite a handsome young boy that people had a crush on. Even when he didn’t talk or pay any mind to any of them. You glared at this girl, as though she was the worst of them all. She’s always been trying to take Kento from you.

“Uh, excuse me?” she said, attempting to regain her composure.

“You heard me.” Kento’s gaze was steady, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was an edge to his voice that made it clear he wasn’t messing around. “Why do you care what she looks like? Or are you just bored?”

The giggling stopped.

“Well, I—” The girl floundered, her cheeks turning pink.

“She looks fine to me.” Kento interrupted smoothly, tilting his head slightly as if he were assessing them. “Better than you, anyway. I mean, those pants with that shirt? What are you thinking? Does your mom even love you if she allows you to wear something like that?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop at what he had said. You look at him, blinkingly. Before finding yourself bellowing at laughter at how blunt he had worked everything. The girls gasped, their mouths falling open in perfect synchronization. One of them muttered something about “rude boys” and then, just like that, they were gone, retreating with their tails between their legs.

You stood there, stunned, as Kento turned back to you like nothing had happened. You finally straightened yourself from your laughing form. You wiped your eyes as you turned back at him. You grinned at his words.

“Better than her?” you repeated later as the two of you walked back to class. You were trying not to laugh, but the corners of your mouth kept twitching upward.

“It’s true. You already know that.” he said simply, not bothering to look up from the book he’d already opened, as if the whole thing hadn’t even fazed him.

“Aw, you think I’m cute, don’t you?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

“Don’t push it.” he replied dryly, but the tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

══════════════════

BUT OF COURSE, THIS ONLY INTENSIFIED ONCE YOU BOTH GREW OLDER. Entering this new environment, in high school — one could say nothing had ever changed. If anything, it has only grown more concrete that you and Nanami Kento, no one can separate the two of you even if they tried.

If one were to describe how you both were, it would be like being a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Inseparable. And even when people questioned it, you turned them down just as easily. Little by little, people barely questioned it anymore.

You had long since reached the point where your friendship was so solid that it seemed like a fact of life. If anyone tried to ask about it, the answer was already clear: You two were a package deal. And while you liked it that way, not everyone seemed to get the memo.

It didn’t take long for the attention to roll in once high school started. You were used to it by now. After all, you and Kento had always been a pair of conspicuously close friends, so naturally, people were curious.

But this was a different kind of curiosity, the kind that came with stares and whispers behind your backs. Everyone seemed to have suddenly developed a keen interest in your best friend, and you couldn’t decide if it was because of his brooding good looks or that deep, mysterious aura he carried, but maybe, probably both.

It started with the girls, as it usually did. They would hover around Kento in class, a little too eager to engage in conversations about anything—his favorite books, his thoughts on the weather, even the random things he’d written in the margins of his notes. It didn’t matter what they brought up; they were just looking for an excuse to get a reaction out of him.

They wanted to be the one to crack the mystery that was Nanami Kento. And of course, they expected him to open up, to smile, to laugh, to do something that would confirm they were special enough to make him forget his usual quiet, studious demeanor.

But Kento, being the stoic, no-nonsense guy he was, would respond with quiet politeness, barely even registering their presence. He would tilt his head slightly when they asked questions, look at them through the edge of his glasses, and give just enough of an answer to keep things from getting awkward.

The girls would often stare at him a little longer than necessary, hoping for a second of warmth or acknowledgment. But no matter how many times they tried, all they got was that polite, impersonal smile that didn’t reach his eyes. And it wasn’t that he didn’t care; it was just that he didn’t care about them, not in the way they wanted.

To Nanami Kento, it was all just noise. So, he’d just keep his focus on what mattered, which was probably the latest algebra problem or his ongoing internal monologue about the best way to prepare his next snack.

Even as an emo guy with that black hoodie, messy blond hair, brooding eyes that screamed ‘don’t talk to me, but if you do, be prepared for my sarcasm’—people still flocked to him. It was almost unfair, you thought. He had this combination of boy-next-door charm and detached, almost tragic mystique that girls couldn’t resist.

He was a pretty boy, you knew that much. You’d known him long enough to appreciate the way his eyes glinted in the sunlight, how his messy hair always looked effortlessly perfect, how he somehow made a monotone voice sound like the most hypnotic thing in the room.

And it wasn’t just the girls, either. The guys were starting to notice, too. Sure, they didn’t hover the same way, but they’d get a little too chatty when Kento was around, laughing a little too hard at his dry jokes, trying just a bit too hard to be friendly.

Everyone knew he wasn’t the type to just buddy up with anyone, and that mystery only made him more desirable. So when they’d get too close, you’d notice the slight twitch of Kento’s eyebrow, the way he’d lean just a little bit further away to make it clear that he was not interested in their company.

But the one thing you didn’t doubt was this: Kento was really polite. He never outright rejected anyone, and that politeness was a plus. Sure, it drove you a little crazy when they’d swarm him like bees to honey.

But you had to admit that his politeness was a rare commodity in a world where most people had no issue turning someone down rudely or making them feel uncomfortable. Kento didn’t do that. He’d simply nod back at people and get back to whatever it was he was doing, never making a fuss about the attention.

Well, it was better than over half the school, that’s for sure. You’d seen the way people treated each other, cold and snide, brushing off others without so much as a second thought. Kento was a rare gem in that regard. He was a gentleman, even in the face of all the attention he was getting, and that made it all the more frustrating.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want people to admire him; you just didn’t like the thought of anyone thinking they could replace you. You and Kento had this bond, a strong one, one that didn’t need words to be understood. But here was the thing—everyone else didn’t get it. And that was where the fun (and by fun, you mean sneaky sabotage) began.

After all, who else could say they knew all his little quirks? Who else had shared so many quiet lunches under that same oak tree, or been the one to force him to eat a full meal instead of staring at his book? You were his best friend, and that meant you had a certain, special claim on him, no matter how many girls wanted to make themselves part of his world.

But, like the selfless best friend you were, you’d keep that fact under wraps. No one needed to know you had a stake in him—especially when you were also the one helping him avoid the chaos of all his newfound admirers. Let them keep fighting over who could be the one to crack Kento's cold exterior; you'd be the one to keep it safe.

But that wasn’t enough. No, they wanted more. They wanted to peel back the layers, crack open that cool exterior, and find whatever hidden treasure lay beneath. And that was where you came in. That’s where you always have to come in. He was your best friend, after all.

It wasn’t that you hated the attention Kento was getting, but it was yours, wasn’t it? You didn’t want anyone to think they could just stroll up and waltz into the little bubble you and Kento had created. And you know he agreed. He doesn’t really need anyone else, he’s said that to you numerous times.

So naturally, you and Kento found creative ways to sabotage any admirer who dared to get too close. It wasn’t malicious, exactly. Well, not to you or Kento. it was more like you were just “protecting” him, and, on occasion, he did the same for you.

It started with the simple things. You'd hover near him during lunch, casually tossing your snacks at him in a way that made it obvious you didn’t want him interacting too much with anyone else. It was like a game of cat-and-mouse between the two of you. Both of you pretended you weren’t doing it, but everyone knew exactly what you were up to.

For example, when this girl from the other class named Yuki asked to sit with Kento one day during lunch time, you quickly swooped in, plopping down next to him like you were the most important thing in his world. You grinned at him and he hummed.

“Hey, Kentooooo!” you said, dropping your lunch tray in front of him. “Did you get those history notes I gave you this morning?”

Yuki opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, you continued to talk to him with a brighter grin. You nonchalantly handed your strawberry milk carton to him and he started to open it for you with the same amount of cool.

“I was thinking of making brownies this weekend. You like chocolate, right? The ones that we used to buy at the mart? It hasn’t changed, right?” You sent her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I know it's probably too sweet, but it’s his favorite.”

Kento nodded back at you as he placed your strawberry milk carton on the side. You thanked him happily as you started to drink with happy sounds. Kento simply looked at Yuki with the politest expression he could muster and muttered back at her.

“Sorry, I’ve got a study group with her after school. Maybe next time.”

Yuki didn’t even bother trying to argue, just nodding stiffly before retreating. You shot Kento a quick grin, but before you could say anything, he just sighed and went back to his book.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” he muttered under his breath. “Could have handled that myself.”

“But I have to. You know that.” you said with a grin, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. “You’re my best friend, not hers.”

One day at lunch, as you and Kento sat under the shade of the old oak tree, munching on your usual snacks, a girl named Mia from your history class walked by. She glanced at Kento, then at you, then back at Kento, before finally stopping a few feet away.

"Hey, Kento!" she called, her voice way too sweet for your liking. “Mind if I join you guys?”

You didn’t even have to look up from your crackers. “Sure, but he doesn’t bite.” you said, not even looking at Mia. “I mean, I don’t think so...”

Kento, who had been engrossed in a textbook the size of a brick, glanced up at you before looking back at Mia. "I can sit alone, you know." he said, a little too casually, not even bothering to hide the fact that he didn’t care much for the attention.

Mia, undeterred, tried again. “Are you sure? I heard you like this band, too. Maybe we could—”

But before she could finish her sentence, you leaned forward, dropping a half-eaten cracker dramatically into your lap as if to make your point clear.

"If you want to talk about music, you’re gonna have to take it up with me right now, okay?" you declared, giving her your best “this is my turf” look. "Kento here’s more into his book right now, not whatever band you think you have in common with him."

Kento blinked slowly, clearly trying to figure out why he was being pulled into this, but didn't argue. He just glanced at you and nodded, an expression you knew meant, I’m not getting involved in this one.

Mia looked between you and Kento, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay, fine.” she muttered before turning around and walking off, her face flushed red.

"Good job, hero," Kento muttered under his breath, voice dry.

You smirked at him. "You’re welcome, sunshine."

Of course, it wasn’t like you were the only one who was possessive. Nanami Kento hated that you were constantly getting hit on. It drove him absolutely insane. Apparently, teenage boys had this ridiculous notion that your consistent rejections made you more appealing. The more you turned them down, the more determined they became, like you were some kind of prize to be won.

Nanami Kento of course, naturally, found this logic baffling—and irritating. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you to handle yourself; he absolutely did. He hated everyone else, maybe most of all the men around him and of course — you.

But watching those guys swarm around you, trying to impress you with their lame jokes or over-the-top compliments, made his jaw tighten and his grip on his pen just a little too firm. Oh, he hated men even more like that. And, well, Kento was never one to sit back and let something annoy him for too long. Not when it comes to you.

But of course, there are things that come as unexpected too.

Maybe it was because Nanami Kento was too perceptive.

Maybe he was just good at dissecting situations happening.

He doesn’t know how this happened, or how this came to pass.

But today would change his life for good, that was certain.

A week after one particularly bold senior cornered you after class to “ask for your number” Kento decided to return the favor—not with dramatics, of course, but with his usual understated, calm assertiveness.

You were sitting in the library, animatedly telling Kento about your latest sketch. It was a concept you were certain would win the upcoming art contest. He was actually paying attention, nodding slightly as you explained your technique, when suddenly, a guy from the senior class decided to interrupt.

“Hey, you’re the girl who draws, right?” the senior asked, leaning against the edge of the table with a grin that screamed overconfident.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah, that’s me.”

“Well,” he continued, practically oozing smugness, “I was thinking, maybe you’d want to collaborate on some sketches sometime. You know, we could—”

Before he could finish whatever weak line he’d rehearsed, Kento smoothly slid into the seat beside you, his broad shoulders cutting off your view of the guy. He didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, he turned to you, his voice calm but laced with just enough edge to make his point.

“I’m pretty sure sketching is a solitary activity.” Kento said matter-of-factly. “You know, for concentration… unless, of course, you want a distraction?”

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Kento’s sudden presence. “Uh, no, I—”

Kento didn’t let him finish. “You know….” he continued, still not looking at the guy. “It’s actually better if you’re alone when you’re working. Less… interruptions.”

He then picked up your sketchbook, flipping through it with the kind of casual indifference that somehow made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. Your jaw dropped at what he’s done.He’s silly like this sometimes, you think to yourself.

“Kento!” you half-laughed, half-scolded, reaching for your sketchbook. “That’s my sketchbook!”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” he replied nonchalantly, not even pretending to give it back. His attention wasn’t on your sketches anymore, though. His eyes were fixed on the poor senior, who was now fidgeting uncomfortably under Kento’s unnervingly calm stare.

“Do you mind?” Kento said coolly. “She’s busy.”

The guy stammered something unintelligible, his confidence evaporating faster than a spilled soda in the sun. “Uh… yeah, maybe another time, I guess.” he mumbled before slinking off, clearly realizing he was no match for Nanami Kento’s level of subtle intimidation.

Once the guy was gone, you turned back to Kento, crossing your arms with a mix of exasperation and amusement. You giggled to yourself for a moment. He sighed, looking at how amused you were. It was always like this with you, getting giddy when he does things like this.

“Nice one, Kento.” you said, smirking. “You do know I could have handled that, right?”

Kento raised an eyebrow, setting your sketchbook back down and leaning back in his chair like nothing had happened. You take it back from him, giving him a small thanks. He couldn’t stop looking at you. But when you looked up again, he'd already looked away.

“Sure.” he said, his lips curling into that faint, almost-smile of his. “But it looked like you were busy… talking to him.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm. “What was that even about? You’re not my bodyguard, you know.”

“I wasn’t being a bodyguard.” he replied, his tone annoyingly calm. “I was just... pointing out how distracting he was being.”

“Right, right.” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. “And that had nothing to do with you hating that he interrupted us?”

Kento didn’t answer right away, but the way his eyes flickered with quiet amusement gave him away. He never likes admitting it out loud, but he feels glad. He feels glad when he makes sure you both are alone. You were all he needed after all.

“Maybe.” he finally admitted, his voice as casual as ever. “Or maybe I just wanted to look at your sketchbook.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you talk too much.” he countered, eyes shining softly against your own.

You giggled back at him, your lips smiling beautifully at him. Beautifully more than ever before. “But you like it that way, don’t you?”

Huh, what was that? He thought to himself.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Was that his heart beating like that just now?

For a moment, he stops and looks at you. You were unaware about what happened just now. Instead, you were back on your sketching, humming to some song you were obsessed with right now. Kento swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of how he was looking at you. He cleared his throat.

“We should get going.” he said finally, his voice a little quieter than usual. “The library closes soon.”

You nodded, falling into step beside him as you always did. But as you walked, Kento couldn’t help sneaking a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. He’d always thought of himself as someone who was good at keeping his emotions in check, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Is this what it feels like? Kento wondered as he watched you walk off in front of him.

He stops. He takes in the sight of you. You were laughing, hopping on the tiles one by one. The sun glows behind you like a beacon leading him to the direction of life. You nearly fell, making him jump forward. But you held your balance.

And then you laughed. Laughed so beautifully that he doesn’t know what to do. He could feel every fiber of him turning warm, warmer and redder than ever before. His heart beating out of rhythm again.

Ah, shit. Kento once more thinks to himself. I’m screwed.

══════════════════

HE DOESN’T THINK TO SAY ANYTHING. How could he, when he’s scared about the outcome? But as the time flew by as fast as it could, he knew he can’t keep being a coward about it. He had to say something. He should do it soon.

It was going to come out anyway. College was looming on both your shoulders. And with that, a lot of uncertainty came. If he says something, at the very least there would be something certain, concrete as your friendship.

The two of you sat cross-legged on the floor of Kento’s family home, a single bottle of sake between you. Neither of you had much experience with alcohol, but the thrill of being eighteen and toeing the line of rebellion was too tempting to resist.

Kento poured carefully into the mismatched cups you'd found in his cupboard, his movements precise, even in the low light.

"Cheers, cheers!" you yell with that bright eyed grin, raising your cup to him.

"To...?" he asked, his brow arching slightly, always wanting things to have a purpose.

"To us!" you said simply, eyes sparkling with mischief.

He hesitated, his breath catching in his chest, before clicking his cup against yours. "To us."

The first sip was sharp, burning its way down, but it wasn’t long before the alcohol began to work its magic with swift effectivity. You laughed more freely, leaning closer to him, and your words came faster, your thoughts unfiltered.

"You know, Kentooooo." you said, poking his shoulder with a pout. "You’re, like, ridiculously handsome, right?"

Kento froze mid-sip, his ears instantly turning as pink as your sweater. "W–what?"

"I mean it! You’re so... ugh…." you groaned, tossing your head back dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus when you look at me like that?"

"Like what?" he asked, his voice soft, betraying the nervous flutter in his chest.

"Like you’re trying not to smile, but your eyes are giving you away." you teased, your grin widening as you poked his cheek this time.

Nanami Kento could feel his heart pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. Every word you spoke chipped away at his usual composure, and he could feel himself unraveling under the weight of your drunken admiration. In just this moment, you wholly outwit him. You make him come undone. Only you can have that effect on him. Only you.

"You’re unbelievable, you know that?" he muttered, trying to look away, but you caught his chin, turning his face back to yours.

"Admit it already, won’t you?" you said, your voice lower now, but no less playful. "You like me. Maybe even a little too much."

Kento stared at you, the world blurring slightly around the edges, whether from the alcohol or the way you were looking at him, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to do it like this. He didn’t want to put up his hopes that you would be sober enough to know the truth. Or for you to have sober truths pouring out of your sharp grinning lips.

"I think…" he began, his voice steady but his heart anything but.

“You think?”

"I’m falling for you. More and more. Every second."

You blinked at what had just shifted in the air, your teasing expression softening as you processed his words. Then, to his surprise, you smiled—not mischievously this time, but gently, sweetly. Full with a merry drink, you smiled.

"Good." you whispered, leaning in so close he could smell the faint sweetness of the sake on your breath. "You said really good words.”

Kento barely had time to breathe before you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, leaving his face on fire and his heart completely, utterly yours. Kento froze, the warmth of your lips lingering on his cheek like a brand. His breath hitched as your words sank into the alcohol-drenched air between you.

“I think I’m already there.”

He stared at you, his usually composed mind now an unsteady swirl of emotions—exhilaration, disbelief, and a flicker of hesitation. Your gaze was soft, dreamy, and undeniably sincere, but the alcohol in your system clouded everything. He said it out loud. But are you sure? How could you be, with how merry the drink is in your belly?

"You don’t mean that." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loud would shatter the fragile moment.

"I do. I do." you said, your expression serious despite the light flush of intoxication on your cheeks. You reached for his hand, holding it with a gentle firmness that made his heart stumble in its rhythm.

Kento's fingers curled instinctively around yours before he could stop himself, but his grip was careful, steady. "You're drunk. I just…you can’t say that drunk." he pointed out, his voice more tender than reprimanding.

You frowned, tilting your head like you were trying to understand him through the haze. "So? That doesn’t mean it’s not true."

He sighed, looking down at your joined hands. He wanted so desperately to believe you, to let his heart leap completely into your words, but his rational side, his ever-present voice of reason. It held him back.

"It matters. It matters to me." he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly. "If you mean it, I need to hear it when you’re sober. When you’re sure."

"But I am sure, Kento." you insisted, leaning closer, your warmth almost overwhelming him. Your free hand reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and he felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush.

Kento shook his head, his smile faint but aching with restraint. "Not like this." he murmured. "You’ll wake up tomorrow and—"

"And what? Pretend this didn��t happen?" you interrupted, your brows knitting together. "Do you think I’d forget how much I lo—"

His hand shifted, gently pressing a single finger to your lips to quiet you, though it was more for his sake than yours. He wasn’t sure he could take it, hearing those words from you while your judgment was fogged.

"Stop. Please." he said, his voice barely steady. "Don’t say it now. Not tonight."

Your eyes searched hisfrustration flickering in their depths before softening. You saw the way his shoulders tensed, the way he looked at you like he was holding back an ocean of feelings.

"You're such a romantic, aren’t you?" you murmured, a teasing lilt to your voice as a lazy smile spread across your face.

He gave a quiet chuckle, his fingers brushing against your cheek now without realizing it. "Maybe." he admitted, his tone gentler than ever. "But I want this—want us—to start right. I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me again."

You let out a small sigh but didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as your eyelids grew heavy. You always liked this, taking in his warmth. You don’t think there was any other place you belonged in but his arms.

If you were being honest, you were afraid. He was right. Your words could mean something, and maybe it wouldn’t be as clear as his own. You were drunk. You were really drunk. And feels hazy in your head. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair to your Kento. Not like this.

"Fine." you murmured, your words slurring slightly. "But you’d better be ready for me to say it a hundred times tomorrow. Maybe a thousand."

Kento chuckled again, the sound low and warm in his chest, as he rested his chin lightly on top of your head. "I’ll be ready." he promised, even as his own heart thudded wildly at the thought. “I’m always waiting for you. Always.”

And as you drifted off, still clutching his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, Kento silently vowed to himself: when the time came, he’d tell you how deeply, how completely he felt for you too. He just needed to be sure you knew what it meant.

The morning after that night, you woke up on Kento's couch, the faint remnants of sake lingering in the air. Your head throbbed lightly, and your memories were fuzzy around the edges. Kento, ever thoughtful, had left a glass of water and some aspirin on the table beside you.

"Rough night?" he asked from the kitchen, his voice steady but carefully neutral as he busied himself making coffee.

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "What did I even say last night? I barely remember anything."

He hesitated, his hand tightening briefly on the handle of the coffee pot. He looked over at you, your half-asleep face free of the weight of your drunken confessions. For a moment, he considered saying something, but the words got caught in his throat.

"Nothing too embarrassing," he said instead, forcing a faint smile.

You laughed, your cheeks reddening slightly. "Good. I’d hate to think I made a fool of myself in front of you."

Kento gave a small nod, but his heart felt heavy. You didn’t remember, and he couldn’t bring himself to remind you. Not like this. So, he lets himself break apart. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t let you have guilt. Because if he did, how is that loving you?

So Nanami Kento buried those words, locking them away where they couldn’t touch the fragile balance between you. He told himself it was better this way. But he hopes, maybe one day — just one day. You’ll see him too. Sober with your love for him.

══════════════════

THINGS DID CHANGE A BIT WHEN YOU WENT TO COLLEGE. Of course, you both got into the same university. But there’s a rough difference between not only being in different departments, but also being in different campuses. It was a rough travel back and forth. But Nanami Kento was determined to go and visit you.

You often feel a little bad when you look back on those days. Engineering classes were no joke. Too many long hours, grueling projects, and the constant pressure to keep up left you drained most of the time.

You barely had the energy to go out, even when you wanted to. But Kento never minded. He understood in the quiet, steady way that only he could, and instead of waiting for you to have time, he made sure to visit you instead.

It didn’t matter where for him. Whether it was the bustling campus lunch hall, where the two of you would share a plate of something warm while you tried to finish an assignment, or your dorm room, which was always a little messy with textbooks and half-drunk cups of coffee.

What mattered to him wasn’t the place or even what you were doing. What mattered was just being with you.

And that thought? It never fails to make your heart skip a beat. Even now, after everything, it feels just as special as it did back then. You still held dearest to him after all this time. Ever since you were kids, you were his everything. And you were sure, more than ever now, that he was yours too. In all sense of the word.

It’s been a year and a half since that time, since you confessed to Kento. Well, technically, drunk you confessed to him. It was late, and you’d had just enough to drink to make your heart bolder than your brain. You didn’t want to say a word. And you think that Kento was just as much waiting for you to say something.

You were ready to die of embarrassment when you remembered that you had said that. But then you remembered, with just as much horror and embarrassment — he’d confessed too. With that same calm sincerity, he told you he’d felt the same way for a while.

Looking back, it was a little messy, maybe even a lot embarrassing. But it was also sweet, earnest, and so perfect for you two. And honestly? You wouldn’t change a thing. You had said something that clarified things for you.

After all, that drunken confession was the start of something that would make all the challenges of those days worth it, every late-night study session, every coffee-fueled conversation, every stolen moment in between. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

You were falling for Kento more and more every day, and it was starting to feel like a problem. A big problem. How were you supposed to act normal around him when everything he did—from the way he fixed his tie to the way he said your name—made your heart do backflips?

It wasn’t fair, really. How was it possible that the same person who once laughed so hard he choked on a piece of rice during lunch was also the one making you reconsider your entire perception of love? He was your best friend, and now you couldn’t even look at him without overthinking every little thing.

And to make matters worse, he was visiting you today.

You had approximately 15 minutes to get your life together before Kento arrived, which was nowhere near enough time to deal with the tornado that was your dorm room or the emotional hurricane swirling inside you.

“Okay, okay, calm your tits.” you muttered to yourself, grabbing stray socks off the floor. “Just play it cool. It’s just Kento. You know him best. Real well. He’s been here a million times. No big deal. Totally normal.”

You shoved a pile of notebooks into your desk drawer, praying it wouldn’t jam, and quickly rearranged the pillows on your bed. By the time you heard the knock at your door, your dorm was passable, well barely. And you were mostly sure you didn’t look like a total disaster.

When you opened the door, there he was, Nanami Kento in all of his huge handsome stature, standing there with his usual calm demeanor, holding a bag of snacks. You yelped quietly as you looked at him. Your roommates must have let him inside.

“Thought you might need these.” he said, giving you one of those small, knowing smiles that made your brain short-circuit.

You blinked at him. “Nanami Kento, are you a psychic?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No, but you texted me at 2 AM complaining about running out of your favorite chips, so I figured this might help. You still have some paperwork to do, right? And you won’t eat unless I come by to remind you. So, I got it.”

“Oh.” You tried to laugh, but it came out more like a nervous croak. “Right. Thanks. You’re, uh…you’re a hero.”

He stepped inside, his gaze sweeping over the room. “Did a tornado hit your room? It was clean last time I came by.”

“What? No!” You crossed your arms defensively. “I cleaned! Mostly.”

Kento gave you a skeptical look before setting the bag of snacks on your desk. “If this is what ‘clean’ looks like to you, remind me never to see it messy.”

You threw a pillow at him, and he caught it effortlessly, smirking. “Careful. That’s my best throw pillow. If you damage it, I’ll charge you emotional damages.”

“Noted, little miss engineer.” he replied, setting the pillow down with exaggerated care. “What’s the rate for emotional damages these days?”

“Depends. How many snacks did you bring?”

“Enough to keep you from suing me.” He tells you with a grin. “Still have some in my car, just in case you wanted more.”

The two of you laughed, and for a moment, it felt like old times. A little bit easy, comfortable, effortless. But then, as Kento sat down on the edge of your bed, something in your chest tightened. How had this annoying, perfect, infuriatingly kind man become someone you couldn’t stop thinking about? Someone you don’t think you could live without?

He looked up at you, tilting his head slightly. “What’s with the staring? Do I have something on my face?”

“What? No!” You blinked rapidly, your cheeks heating. “I was just—uh—zoning out. Engineering stuff. Very complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Right, right.” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Because I’m definitely not the one who helped you with that last project.”

“Details, details, Nanami Kento. Don’t get bogged down in the details.”

He chuckled, and the sound was so warm and familiar that you almost forgot why you were freaking out in the first place. Almost. Kento takes a moment. He then looks at you as though examining you with careful abandon. Kento wanted to take in the sight of you, after not seeing you for a while.

“You’re weird today, do you know that?” he said, leaning back slightly. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, totally fine. Super fine.” You waved a hand dismissively. “Just tired, you know? Engineering. It’s a grind.”

Kento studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?”

Your stomach flipped, and you forced a laugh. “Who, me? No way. I’m like…a professional liar. Best in the business.”

“Uh-huh.” He hums back in retort.

He didn’t press further, but the way he looked at you. Everything about his caramel gaze was gentle, understanding, like he already knew what you weren’t saying. Everything about it, everything about him made your heart squeeze.

You sighed internally. How were you supposed to handle this? You couldn’t just blurt out, “Hey, Kento, I think I’m in love with you, and it’s driving me absolutely insane!”

But as he opened the bag of snacks and handed you your favorite, you couldn’t help but think maybe, just maybe, he already knew that you knew. And that maybe he knew that you felt deeply about him. You sighed. Maybe you’re just imagining it.

As the minutes ticked by, Kento made himself right at home in your dorm, sitting cross-legged on your bed and munching on the snacks he’d brought. Meanwhile, you had plopped into your desk chair, scrolling on your phone under the pretense of “taking a break.”

But in reality, you were desperately trying to distract yourself from the way he looked way too good just casually existing in your space. How could he look that good even as a law major? How can he have time to make your heart feel like this?

As you flicked through your social media feed, you stumbled upon a post that made your stomach twist uncomfortably. It was a picture—Kento, smiling (smiling!) with a group of classmates, apparently from earlier that day. Some of them were girls. Really pretty girls. Those really pretty preppy law girls!

Your first thought was When does Kento even smile like that? He never smiles like that around me!

Your second thought was Who’s the one leaning so close to him? Is she, like, whispering in his ear or something?

You shot a quick, subtle glance at him. He was still on your bed, completely unaware of the emotional spiral you were going through. He crunched on a chip like it was the most normal day in the world.

“Did you have fun today?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Kento raised an eyebrow. “Uh…what?”

“Today. You were with…people from your department.” you said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

His brow furrowed toward you slightly. “I mean, yeah, I had a class project meeting. It was fine. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” you said, voice a little too high-pitched. Fuck, you were too obvious. You looked back at your phone, scrolling furiously to hide your face. “Just…wondering. Looked fun.”

“Wait.” Kento’s tone shifted. Suddenly you felt his gaze on you. “How do you know about that?”

Your heart dropped. “Uh, I saw it. Online. A picture. No big deal!”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. “Are you…jealous?”

“What?!” Your head whipped up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “Me? Jealous? Of what? Why would I be jealous?”

Kento’s lips quivered into a rare, brat–like smirk, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. “No reason at all.” he said smoothly. “Just seems like you’re a little…interested in what I’m doing when I’m not here.”

“Interested? Pfft, no. I was just—just checking to make sure you’re not hanging out with the wrong crowd.” you stammered, flailing for a decent excuse. “You know, bad influences. Peer pressure. That sort of thing.”

“Right, I see.” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Because I’m the type to fall victim to peer pressure.”

“Well, I don’t know that part of your life right now!” you snapped, feeling your face heat up. “Maybe one of those girls was trying to…to make you join a pyramid scheme or something!”

Kento leaned back on your bed, folding his arms behind his head, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You’re terrible at hiding things, you know.”

“I’m not hiding anything!” you shot back, spinning your chair around so you didn’t have to look at him.

There was a rustle of movement, and then suddenly, he was right behind you, his hand resting lightly on the back of your chair. You could feel your ears redden at the feeling of him. You squeaked, loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re really bad at lying, too. How come you haven’t evolved at lying? It’s been years and somehow, you’re still bad at it.” he said softly, his voice just teasing enough to make your heart race.

You spun around to face him, glaring. “Okay, fine! Maybe I was a little jealous. Are you happy now?”

Kento blinked, clearly surprised by your sudden outburst. But then, to your absolute horror, he started laughing—actual, full-on laughing. He hadn’t expected for you to just come out and say it like that. You were a prideful little flower, you always have been.

“You’re laughing at me?!” you cried, swatting at his arm.

“I’m not laughing at you, you know.” he said, still chuckling. “I just didn’t think you’d actually admit it.”

“Well, I did!” You crossed your arms, trying to look annoyed even as your face burned. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Kento’s laughter softened into a small, fond smile, and for a moment, the teasing disappeared. He didn’t know how much he missed you until now. Somehow, the world seemed like it was in proper orbit when he’s with you like this.

“Nothing, nothing.” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Because you don’t need to be jealous. If I wanted to spend my time with anyone else, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

You stared at him, your brain short-circuiting as he straightened up and walked back to the bed like he hadn’t just casually wrecked you with one sentence. You looked away, crossing your arms as though to shield yourself from him. But he could still see the redness of your ears.

“Well….” you muttered under your breath, plopping dramatically onto your desk. “Now I’m jealous of myself.”

Kento paused mid-bite of a chip and turned to you with an amused look. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, sitting up straight like you hadn’t just been caught having an existential crisis.

But of course, Kento being Kento, he wasn’t about to let it slide. “No, no, go ahead.” he said, his smirk returning as he leaned back against the headboard. “Explain how you’re jealous of yourself. This, I have to hear.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Forget I said anything. It’s dumb.”

“I doubt that at all.” he replied, his tone annoyingly smug. “But fine, I’ll drop it. For now.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, only to find him watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, something that made your heart flip all over again. You wanted to throw a pillow at him or maybe yourself—just to get rid of the growing warmth in your chest.

Instead, you grabbed the bag of chips from the desk and walked over to him, shoving it into his hands. “Here. Eat some of the snacks and stop psychoanalyzing me.”

“I wasn’t psychoanalyzing you.” he said, popping another chip into his mouth. “But you’re making it very tempting.”

“Unbelievable, Kento.” you muttered, plopping down onto the bed beside him. “This is why I can’t stand you sometimes, you know that?”

“Uh-huh.” He glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “So much so that you admitted to being jealous of people spending time with me. Makes perfect sense.”

You huffed, grabbing a handful of chips just to give your hands something to do. “Okay, fine, you got me. I was a little jealous. Big deal. You’re my best friend. It’s normal to feel weird about you hanging out with other people, right?”

“Is it?” he asked, his voice teasing but his eyes studying you closely.

“Yes!” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Because we’re close. And I don’t like sharing, okay? You’ve known that since we met!”

“Hmm, hmm.” he said thoughtfully, leaning a little closer. “So what you’re saying is, you want me all to yourself?”

You choked on your chip, coughing violently as Kento sat back, looking far too pleased with himself. “You—ugh! Don’t say things like that!”

“Why not? I’m just repeating what you said to me.” he replied innocently.

“That is not what I said!”

“Sounded like it to me.”

You glared at him, your face burning. “You’re the worst.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, smiling slightly. “But I’m your worst.”

And just like that, you were done for. Completely, utterly done for. You threw a pillow at him once again. Because what else could you do to him like that? He wasn’t wrong. Sure enough, he caught it effortlessly, laughing rather softly as he set it down beside him.

“Stop overthinking about it.” he said after a moment, his tone quieter now. “I’m here because I want to be. No one else matters, okay?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity in his voice. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” he said simply, reaching into the chip bag again like he hadn’t just made your heart implode for the second time that evening.

And you sat there, staring at him like an idiot, thinking that maybe, just maybe, falling for him wasn’t the worst thing in the world after all.

══════════════════

IT WAS ONE OF THE RARE OPPORTUNITIES WHERE YOU HAD A DAY OFF. So of course, you took the time to call Kento and ask him to hang out with you. And as usual, all he had said was that short, sure yes and nothing more.

He’d pick you up in thirty minutes, like usual. And of course, Nanami Kento was never late. If anything, he was always ten minutes early. He couldn’t have you waiting, after all.

The bar was warm and lively, filled with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. You and Kento had decided to spend your day off together, and while the original plan had been something low-key like a café or a bookstore, somehow you’d ended up here, nursing a drink and trying to act normal around him.

He’d never been here before, but he saw it from across the road and if the cafe or bookstore was closed — an afternoon at a bar wasn’t going to be a bad idea for college kids wanting to have some adventure beyond the campus walls.

Normal. Just normal. Yeah, act like you do. Well, whatever normal looks like to you now.

You could only mentally sigh as your peripheral was only stuck on him more than usual.

As if that was possible when you were utterly, hopelessly in love with the man sitting across from you.

Kento, of course, looked effortlessly composed, like he always did—leaning back in his seat, one hand resting on the table, the other holding his drink. He wasn’t a flashy guy, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made it impossible not to stare. And you were staring. Again.

“You’re staring at me again.” he said, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement.

“I am not!” you shot back, quickly taking a sip of your drink to cover up your flustered state.

“You’ve been doing it all evening.” he continued, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, no.” you muttered, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “I was just…zoning out. Thinking about…stuff.”

“Stuff. You sure….about stuff as an excuse?” he repeated, his tone skeptical.

“Yes, stuff.” you said firmly, glaring at him. “You wouldn’t understand.”

He chuckled softly, and you were both annoyed and utterly charmed by the sound. Why did he have to be so effortlessly perfect? It wasn’t fair. You hated how good he is at being everything you love. As you tried to regain your composure, a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Hey there, sweetie–pie.” a man said, sliding up to your table with a confident grin. “Mind if I join you?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh…”

Before you could say anything else, the man pulled up a chair and sat down, clearly not waiting for permission. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you. You felt disgusted by the way he looked at you. He wasn’t your type at all. And moreover, he’s creepy as hell.

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the room.” he said smoothly. “You’ve got a great smile.”

“Um, thanks?” you said awkwardly, glancing at Kento.

Kento’s expression didn’t change much, but there was a subtle shift in his posture. He sat up a little straighter, his jaw tightening just slightly. Kento’s eyes were glaring hard enough that you could find those eyes were blades cutting you whole.

“So, what’s your name?” the guy asked, ignoring Kento entirely.

You opened your mouth to answer, but Kento beat you to it.

“She’s not interested in you.” he said flatly, his voice calm but with an edge that made the guy pause.

The man glanced at Kento, raising an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Person she’s with.” Kento replied smoothly, though his tone made it clear that he wasn’t just a friend. “Who also happens to know she’s too polite to tell you to leave, so I’ll do it for her. What else are you waiting for? Leave.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was Kento…jealous?

The man hesitated for a moment, clearly debating whether to push back, but something about Kento’s steady gaze seemed to make him think twice. With a shrug, he stood up. He wasn’t going to get anything out of you. Lest he wants to get bitten by a tiger waiting to eat him. Well, at least he’s smart about that.

“Alright, alright. No need to get territorial.” He winked at you before walking away.

You shuddered at his wink.

Have men always been weird?

You shake it off quickly, drinking your pint.

You turned to Kento, your cheeks burning. “Territorial? Really?”

Kento shrugged, taking a sip of his drink like nothing had happened. “He was bothering you. I handled it.”

“I could’ve handled it myself, you know.” you said, crossing your arms.

“I’m sure you could’ve.” he replied, setting his glass down. “But I didn’t feel like watching you pretend to be polite to someone who clearly couldn’t take a hint.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe.” he said, a small smirk playing on his lips. “But at least you don’t have to deal with him anymore.”

You huffed, turning back to your drink. But as you took a sip, you couldn’t help but notice the way Kento’s gaze lingered on you, softer now, like he was trying to gauge your reaction. You drink your pint once again in some somber silence.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Yes.” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You glanced at him, your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing again. “Why?”

Kento held your gaze for a long moment before replying. “Because I don’t like the idea of anyone else thinking they can have what’s mine.”

Your brain short-circuited. “W-what?”

He didn’t elaborate, just leaned back in his chair with that same calm composure, as if he hadn’t just wrecked your entire evening with one casual sentence. You stared at him, utterly flustered and more in love than ever, wondering how on earth you were supposed to survive the rest of the night without completely losing your mind.

For the rest of the night, Kento didn’t let you out of his sight. He was subtle about it at first—the way he leaned in whenever someone walked by, his hand resting casually on the back of your chair. But as the minutes passed, it became glaringly obvious: Kento was on high alert, and every glance from a stranger only made his protective aura grow stronger.

When a group of guys walked by your table and one dared to look at you a second too long, Kento’s hand dropped from the chair to your shoulder, the weight of it warm and grounding. He didn’t even glance at the guy, his focus entirely on you, but the message was clear: Don’t even try it. Back off.

You tried to act normal, but it was impossible. Sitting beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, you were acutely aware of every little thing about him—the way his sleeves were rolled up just enough to show his forearms, the way his voice dropped into a lower register whenever he spoke to you.

“You’re quiet again.” he said, his voice low as he leaned a fraction closer.

“I’m fine, Kento. Really.” you mumbled, staring into your drink to avoid looking at him.

“Liar.” he murmured, his tone edged with amusement. “You’ve been squirming all night.”

“I have not!” you protested, but the way your voice cracked didn’t help your case.

Kento just smirked, and that was the last straw. You stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Not alone, you’re not.” he said immediately, rising from his seat with an ease that made you want to throw something.

“What, are you my bodyguard now?” you snapped, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at his possessive tone.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes.” he said simply, his gaze steady and unyielding.

Before you could argue, he took your hand—firm, unrelenting—and led you toward the exit.

“Kento, the bathroom’s that way.” you pointed out, trying to tug your hand free.

“We’re leaving.” he said without looking back.

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Because I’m done watching people think they can look at you like you’re up for grabs.” he said, his voice calm but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your protests died in your throat. Nanami Kento rarely raised his voice or lost his composure, but there was something in his tone now. It was something raw and unmistakable. And every bit of it just left you speechless.

The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. When he pulled into a quiet, empty lot, he turned off the engine and finally looked at you. His gaze was dark, intense, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Kento, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You.” he said, his tone low and rough. “You’re what’s going on. Do you have any idea how hard it is to sit there and pretend I’m okay with watching other people look at you like they have a chance?”

Your breath hitched. “I… I didn’t think you—”

“Didn’t think I’d care?” he interrupted, leaning closer. “Didn’t think I’d notice? God, you drive me insane, you know that?”

“Kento…”

“You’re mine.” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’ve always been mine. You always have been since we were kids. I just didn’t want to scare you off by saying it out loud again.”

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I— I….I know.” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I thought you wouldn’t say it again and I just…maybe with time passing… I thought I was the only one now.”

His lips curled into a dark, almost predatory smile. “You’re not. Never. Not when I’ve marked you since we met at that playground when we were kids.”

Before you could process his words, Kento leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was animalistic, it was wanton. It was full of possessiveness, claiming, as if he were branding the truth into you.

You matched his intensity, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you pulled him closer. The kiss deepened, and any hesitation you’d felt earlier melted away, replaced by a burning need that had been building for far too long.

He broke away just long enough to murmur against your lips, “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” you whispered, your voice shaky but resolute.

“You belong with me.”

You looked at him with your doe like eyes. “I belong with you.”

“Good.” he growled, pulling you into his lap without hesitation. His hands gripped your waist firmly, his touch both grounding and electrifying. “Because I’m done holding back.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as you whispered, “Then don’t.”

And he didn’t.

══════════════════

YOU DIDN’T EXPECT HIM TO BE THIS HUNGRY FOR YOU. But with the way he’s going at it. Kento has been hungry for you for a very long time. Kento’s lips linger, soft and insistent, as if savoring every inch of your skin.

The warmth of his breath trails higher, leaving behind a delicate ache where his mouth was. His hands rest firmly on your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You’re trembling.” he murmurs, his voice a rich baritone, teasing but laced with tenderness. He looks up, his gaze heavy with desire, his lips brushing against your inner thigh as he speaks. “Do I make you nervous?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips, betraying your composure. “Not nervous... just—” Your words cut off as he presses another kiss, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

“Just what?” he asks, his tone low and deliberate, his lips curving into a smile against your skin. His hands slide upward, thumbs drawing small circles that make your heart race.

“Kento.” you breathe his name like a plea, your voice catching as he moves closer, the space between you charged with electricity.

The dim glow of the streetlamp filters through the windshield, casting golden lines across his sharp features. The intimacy of the confined space amplifies every touch, every sound between the two of you in these leather seats. The soft rustle of fabric, the quiet hum of his breathing, the slap of flesh against flesh.

“I love when you say my name like that, you know?” he says, voice dark and velvety. His mouth moves with purpose now, leaving faint marks of love on your skin, each one deliberate, each one staking his claim. “I love hearing it like that. Wanton f’r me.”

You gasp, your head falling back against the car seat, fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently. He groans at the sensation, the sound sending heat coursing through you. How has he ever been this good at getting under your skin?

“I want to hear more from you.” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a mix of command and yearning. His lips hover for a moment, teasing you with their proximity. “But only if you’re ready.”

Kento’s lips trail higher, each kiss softer yet more possessive, leaving warmth that lingers long after his mouth moves on. He pauses for a moment, his breath hot against your skin as his hands tighten slightly on your thighs, his thumbs stroking slow, deliberate circles.

“Don’t hold back your noises from me, okay?” he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper that sends a shiver racing through you. He looks up, his golden-brown eyes locking with yours, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I want to hear you clearly.”

The command in his tone makes your pulse quicken. You bite your lip, but the sound escapes anyway, a soft, breathy whimper that only seems to spur him on. Kento’s touch made you feel as though a thousand flames were burning all at once.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. His teeth graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and he chuckles darkly when your hips shift involuntarily toward him.

“Kento.” you gasp, your voice trembling with both restraint and longing.

“Hm?” he hums against your skin, the vibration sending a jolt straight through you. “I told you—no holding back.”

His hands glide upward, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you in place as his mouth continues its slow, maddening journey lower and lower. You could feel your lips mutter a weak groan against him.

The dim light of the streetlamp catches the sheen of his messy blond hair, illuminating the faint smile on his lips as he drinks in every reaction you give him. The intimacy of the moment wraps around you both, the world outside the car fading entirely.

“Kento, please.” you whisper, your voice raw with need, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He pauses, his lips hovering just above your skin, his breath ghosting over you. He takes in the sight of you, almost as though a hunter to a prey. Nanami Kento is your hunter, he always has been. And he’s been keeping this inside him for way too long. This desire, for you. Only you.

“That’s what I wanted to hear from you.” he murmurs, his tone dark and full of promise, before pressing another kiss, softer this time, but no less consuming.

Kento’s words hang in the air, thick with authority and desire, as his lips return to your skin with renewed purpose. He’s slow, methodical, as if every kiss, every graze of his teeth is a language only he can speak—and you’re utterly fluent in his meaning.

“Such sweet sounds from you, hm?” he murmurs against your thigh, the deep timbre of his voice reverberating through you. “Don’t hold them back from me. Let me hear what I do to you.”

Your breath hitches, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and the way his lips curl into a grin tells you he’s satisfied—but not done. His hands are firm but gentle as they slide further up your inner thighs, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you want him most.

His touch sets your skin alight, the heat pooling low in your stomach as your chest rises and falls in uneven rhythm. You could feel his long fingers making their journey to that space, their cool touch melting you whole in a pleasurable moan.

“Kento.” you whisper, barely able to find your voice, your hands trembling as they clutch at the seat beneath you.

He glances up, his caramel eyes catching the faint glow of the streetlight streaming through the windshield, giving him an almost otherworldly allure. His gaze is dark, hungry, but there’s a softness there too. There was that endless reverence in the way he looks at you, as though you’re something precious.

“Yes, my love?” he asks, his voice laced with feigned innocence, though the smirk pulling at his lips betrays him. Your heart drummed at your new nickname from him. It was real. You were lovers. Doing what lovers do. “Tell me what you need. I want to hear it.”

You let out a shaky exhale, your fingers threading into the lower depths of sandy blond undercut for stability as much as desperation. Slowly, it trailed down on his neck, your touch sleuthing through him. Temptingly, almost like a wanting vixen.

“I need you… closer.” you admit, voice breaking, the vulnerability of the words making heat rise to your cheeks.

Kento hums in approval, the sound low and pleased at your words. He leans closer and his fingers echo deeper and deeper into you. Your head throws back hard against the leather’s pristine touch. He playfully moves inside. One moment in a circle. One moment a thrust. Over and over again, rinse and repeat, force and pleasure. And all you could do was surrender.

“Good girl of mine, my love.” he murmurs, his praise sending a wave of warmth coursing through you.

That had surely made you even more wet inside. His lips press higher against your jaw, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He continues on and on. You don’t know where he learned it. How he got so good at knowing how to take you to paradise. BUt you could hardly care. You were focused on how deep his fingers were in you.

“You’re so beautiful like this, my love.” he continues, his voice velvet against the charged air. His hands grip your thighs tighter, pulling them apart just enough for him to settle more firmly between them. “Completely undone for me.”

A sound escapes you, part moan, part plea, and his response is immediate. There was a broken groan deep in his chest as he nuzzled against you, the vibrations of his voice making your whole body tremble and shake as he rushed more and more, in and out, with his masterful fingers.

“That’s it. Go on, my love.” he breathes, his voice dark, dripping with satisfaction. “Just let go for me, honey. No one else is here. Just us. Just me and the way you fall apart under my touch.”

The world outside the car feels impossibly distant now. The soft flicker of the streetlamp, the faint hum of passing cars. It’s all drowned out by the thrum of your heartbeat and the way Kento’s lips, and his fingers worship every part of you they touch, in and out.

“Kento, Kento.” you gasp again, your voice a desperate whisper.

His name on your lips seems to be his motivation, pushing more and more as his fingers tighten inside of you as he shifts closer, his movements becoming more deliberate, more consuming. You could only feel your tears rush in pleasurable waterfalls on your cheek.

“Say it again, my love.” he demands softly, his lips grazing the edge of your hip. “Say my name like that again.”

And when you do, your voice trembling and raw, and broken — he lets out a sound that’s pure need, his control slipping as he loses himself in you entirely. His fingers dug deeper and deeper until they couldn’t anymore. Your slick brushing through his fingers as he repeats it over and over again.

Kento’s name spills from your lips again, breathless and aching, and he growls softly against your skin. There was a sound that sent a ripple of heat straight to your core. You cry out loudly as you come undone on his touch, so hard that you see stars.

“You’re trembling so much, my love.” he murmurs, his voice molten and rich. “Is it because of me, hm?”

His fingers slowly exit through your crevices, slick and full of you. He looks satisfied with the mess he made of you. It doesn’t matter if you pool your pleasure on his leather seats. The sight was satisfying to look at. Because you’re his. And this was proof.

Your answer is a shaky exhale, your head falling back against the seat as your hazy gaze saw him slowly eat at the slick of your pleasure. You had just come undone from his touch and now you could feel yourself wanting more. You were wanton for more. Only he could make you feel this way.

“Words in full, my love.” he coaxes, his tone teasing but firm. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Kento.” you admit, voice breaking as you finally surrender to his command. “It’s you—only you.It’s always been you.”

And with that, he kisses you as he finds himself wanting more of you, as much as you wanted more of him. You gave him everything, and he gave you everything. You wanted to be whole, consumed by the existence of the other.

The air thickens with desire as his touch shifts from lingering to deliberate, the rhythm between you growing more urgent. You brace yourself, your body trembling in anticipation, and then, with a careful, controlled movement, he enters you.

A sharp inhale catches in your throat, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. You gasp, every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to the edge of something deeper, something more consuming. Your body trembles in the wholeness of him.

He began to move at a slow pace and then soon enough, with that eager speed. Your legs crossed against his back, and your arms crossed against his shoulders. You could only hold on for dear life as he pushes in and out of you in a pace that took your breath away.

Every inch of him stretches you, each motion slow yet intentional, designed to leave you breathless, wanting more. Kento’s gaze never leaves yours, intense and searching, as though he’s reading the unspoken desires written in the way your body responds. The heat between you builds steadily, a slow burn that makes your pulse quicken, your limbs aching with the need to surrender to him entirely.

Everything felt so good.

He made you feel good.

Only he could do it like this.

"Are you okay?" His voice is low, almost reverent, as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze.

There’s a softness in his caramel eyes, a tenderness beneath the storm of desire that mirrors the vulnerability you feel. His breath is heavy, and yet there’s a careful concern in his touch, as if he's trying to read you, to make sure you're ready for what comes next.

You nod, but words fail you, the overwhelming sensations clouding your ability to speak. Every inch of your being is attuned to him now, to the heat of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You inhale deeply, trying to steady yourself, yet all that fills your senses is him. The scent of him, the taste of his skin, the press of his chest against yours. Your slick blending against his own. It was all consuming. How you both fit together. How you were made for each other.

"More, Kento." you whisper, the word barely audible but laced with desperation. It’s not just a plea. No, you were saying it as it is. “Faster.”

You needed him. Every bit of him, every part of him. You wanted it all. The craving in your voice is clear, raw, and unfiltered. The desire that had been simmering between you both is now an undeniable force, impossible to resist.

His lips curl into a small, knowing smile, and something in his gaze shifts, darkens. Without breaking eye contact, he presses forward again, moving with an intensity that speaks of his own growing hunger. His movements are deliberate and calculated, even with the speed he was going at.

It was as if he was savoring every inch, every moment with you. Each stroke is measured, calculated, and yet there's an undercurrent of urgency, as though he's trying to pull you deeper into him, deeper into this shared space where only the two of you exist.

His gaze is intense, a silent communication passing between you both. It's not just about the way he moves or the way he touches you. Everything about it felt like magic. It's how he reads every subtle shift in your body, every small intake of breath, every whisper of need.

He’s attuned to you in a way that goes beyond words, understanding the unspoken pleas you can't voice. It’s like he knows you better than you do yourself. It’s like he’s memorized every part of you. He just knew how to love you whole, completely.

You cried out as he hit that pleasure spot, in and out. The car windows were fogging up with the hot breath echoing out of your lips over and over again. You were certain that just as much, people had noticed the car shaking and rearing with activity at the stop. It was too obvious to see.

The heat between you builds steadily, a slow burn that makes your pulse race, that quickens the rhythm of your heart. You feel it in the way your body responds, how the pressure inside you grows with every shift, every stroke, until it feels like the world is narrowing down to just the two of you. You both were lost in this rhythm of connection, of craving, of surrender. This was all that there was, this universe of you, together.

Your body aches with the need to give in completely, to let him take you fully, to become lost in the feeling of him, of the shared moment. He looked at you and leaned forward, letting his lips take yours. His tongue pushes through against your own in a delicious melee of pleasure. You hummed against his lips as his thrusts got deeper, faster. More desperate.

When he parts from you to gather air in his lungs, he slows for a bit and pulls out, earning a whine. But then in a steady shock, he pushes back in, his hands straying to your back, pulling you closer to him. It was as though he wanted you to melt and blend with his flesh. To become one. He thrusts deeper and deeper, harsher than before. You cry out against his ear.

"Let go, my love." he murmurs, his voice a low, breathy whisper against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "I’ve got you."

There’s an assurance in his words, a promise that you can surrender, that he’ll be there to catch you, to guide you through whatever comes next. And with those words, everything inside you snaps. The tension, the anticipation, the desire.

Everything unravels in a wave of release, a deep, consuming surrender. You cry out so loud that you think that you were gasping for air for the first time. Nanami Kento hit on your body with a harsh desire last time and felt his own hot pleasure flow through you with a loud roar.

Your body trembles beneath his touch as you lose yourself in him, the rhythm of his movements pulling you deeper into the moment, into the raw intensity of it all. Your grip on him tightens involuntarily, fingers digging into the hardness of his skin, anchoring yourself to the sensation of him.

Each breath comes quicker, more erratic, as you struggle to keep up with the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your eyes flutter closed, and a few tears escape, blurring your vision. But the tears are not from pain. They are from the overwhelming satisfaction, the complete surrender of everything you’d been holding back.

For a moment, you can’t see anything, your body entirely consumed by the sensations coursing through you. It’s like you’ve been plunged into a haze, where nothing exists but the pulse of his touch, the heat of his body against yours. You feel your senses heighten, every movement, every sound reverberating inside you, making your heart race.

And then, slowly, your sight begins to return. Everything is foggy, distorted at first, the edges of the world softened by the force of your pleasure. But as the fog clears, everything sharpens, every detail comes into focus.

And in that moment, it feels like you’ve stepped into something infinite. The universe itself is laid bare before you, and standing at the center of it all, consumed by the same overwhelming force, is him. Everything felt like enlightenment. Life started here.

Kento’s eyes are locked onto yours, dark and intense, holding you captive with every glance, every word unspoken. His face, usually so composed, is now etched with a mixture of hunger and satisfaction, his own breath coming in ragged pulls. You are drawn to him, to the way he fills every corner of your mind, your heart, your body.

"You're... breathtaking, my love." he murmurs, his voice rough, barely audible as he moves against you, his hands cradling your face gently. "So beautiful, at this moment."

The words make your heart ache, the vulnerability in his tone striking you deeply. Your gaze never wavers from his, even as the pleasure inside you begins to coil again, threatening to pull you under once more. It’s not just his touch, not just the way he moves inside you. It’s the way he sees you, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only one who matters in the world.

"You’re mine. You always will be." you whisper, your voice trembling with the truth of it. The words come from somewhere deep, primal, raw. You don’t even know where they’ve come from, only that they’re true.

“Am I really?” He snickers, pecking at your jaw with small peppering kisses with exhaustion.

You nodded shyly, smiling at him. "I need you... like this. Always."

Kento smiles at your confession. His grip tightens around you, his lips pressing against your forehead in a soft kiss, almost reverent. For a moment, it was like he’d fallen in love with you again for the very first time again.

"And you have me, my love." he responds, his voice low and full of promise. "All of me. Always."

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lxnarphase · 11 months ago

Text

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.�� toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?”

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?"

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip.

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick.

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji."

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.”

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good.

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.”

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you.

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading.

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!”

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time.

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

#toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #🔪 ── toji.#˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ

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malusokay · 5 months ago

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Little things that improved my life 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Accepting my sleep schedule. I'm a night owl; I focus at night, I'm calm at night, I'm motivated at night. For a long time, I tried to fight this since everyone always preaches getting up early, but since I started accepting my natural sleep schedule, I've been feeling a lot better and have become way more productive.

"drink more water". TEA. Tea is the secret here. I will be honest, I hate drinking water; it doesn't matter if I have a cute water bottle or a cute glass, I still hate it. TEA.

Replying quickly. I used to be one of those people who get a text message and think, "Oh, I'll reply to that later", and then just forget about it entirely. Now, I text back as soon as I see the message. This has not only improved my texting anxiety (which I cause on my own by now replying and then feeling bad) but also deepened my connection to my friends. <3

Keeping my circle small and being okay with that. Over the past months, I've had this sudden urge to expand my social circle and get to know more and more people, especially after I moved in August. However, this quickly ended in what I like to call my "social burnout". I was tired, annoyed, and overwhelmed. It took a few weeks for it to settle, but I've come to the conclusion that I would much rather have a smaller circle of people who I trust and love deeply than a huge group of friends, and that's totally okay.

Wearing what I like. Even though I live in a big city, I'd still say that my style can sometimes be a bit more extravagant than what most people wear, another point is that I'm very uncomfortable with pants so I only wear skirts, which is also considered a bit odd where I live. But over the past years, I've come to accept that and have become so sure of myself and found such comfort in my style that I now just wear whatever I like, and it makes every day a little bit nicer.

Reading and writing for pleasure. Reading books outside of my studies and spending time researching topics that simply interest me is such a great way to calm your mind. Same for writing, I always like to say that to write is to think; putting your thoughts on paper in cohesive and well-crafted sentences that you can then reread and think over again is such a liberating thing to do.

Reaching out more. fuck the whole "double texting" and "no contact" thing. If you want to speak to someone because they mean something to you, then just do it. Unless they specifically asked for space, you shouldn't feel bad about wanting to be in touch with them. Many even really appreciate it when you show that you truly care. Let's stop the nonchalant act, and instead, let's face deep emotions and true vulnerability. <3

As always, please feel free to share your own little insights and things that helped you improve comments! <3

my insta: @ malusokay

love ya ･:*₊‧✩

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hoshifighting · 5 days ago

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— Synopsis: Where you “unfortunately” caught your best friend's roomate—your unsaid enemy—masturbating in their shared apartment. — WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: smut, monster cock!seungcheol, explicit language and content, overstimulation, dry fucking, oral as a tongue massage (f. receiving)—a reward <3, body fluids (cum), dry humping, cock riding, dumbfication, degradation, aftercare, exhaustion, and DIRTY TALK.

here’s how it always goes with seungcheol:

you walk into a room, he immediately finds something to scoff at. maybe it’s the way you dress, maybe it’s the way you talk, maybe it’s just the fact that you exist in his general vicinity. but it doesn’t matter what you do—he hates you. or, at the very least, that’s what he insists on showing you.

joshua, your best friend and possibly the only person in the world who can tolerate both of you without losing his mind, always tells you to be the bigger person. “he’s not that bad,” he says, as if seungcheol didn’t practically hiss at you last week for sitting on his side of the couch.

but whatever. you don’t go out of your way to piss him off, and he doesn’t go out of his way to be nice. that’s just the way it is.

which is why you hesitate when joshua calls you:

“i swear, i wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. i left my keys at your place before i flew out, remember?”

“okay, but i literally don’t want to step foot in his apartment,” you stress, cringing at the thought.

“it’s my apartment, too,” joshua deadpans.

you groan, already feeling a headache coming on.

“just go in, grab the folder on my desk, and leave,” he insists. “cheol probably won’t even be home.”

which is how you find yourself standing outside their apartment door, holding joshua’s keys and hyping yourself up like you’re about to enter enemy territory. which, in a way, you are.

you unlock the door, push it open,

and immediately wish you hadn’t.

seungcheol. on the couch. fisting his cock.

your brain short-circuits. like, full shutdown, blue screen, cease all functioning mode.

the man is spread out—legs wide, head tipped back, theres a drop of sweat that drips from his neck aand land in the middle of his chest. hes exposing his toned abs that clench with every up and down of his hand. and his cock is huge. thick from the base to the top and flushed deep red at the tip, veins prominent as his fist works over it.

he’s so lost in it that he doesn’t even register your presence at first, not until he finally cracks his eyes open and sees you standing there, frozen stunned into silence.

the next few seconds happen in slow motion.

his eyes widen. his entire body stiffens. his hand stops.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

seungcheol scrambles to cover himself, reaching for the nearest thing—which, unfortunately for him, is a shirt that does nothing to hide the absolute tent he’s pitching. his face goes red, splotchy from the neck up, and he looks so flustered that for a split second, you almost feel bad.

“why the fuck are you here?!” he practically barks at you, voice ragged from whatever the fuck he was doing before you ruined his life.

you blink, still processing the image that’s now burned into your brain for eternity. “uh. joshua?”

“what about joshua?!”

“he… he needed a document.”

seungcheol lets out a sound that is so frustrated, so exasperated, that it almost doesn’t register as human. “and you didn’t think to knock?!”

“why would i knock?! i didn’t think anyone would be jerking off in the living room like a fucking pervert—”

“IT’S MY APARTMENT.”

“IT’S JOSHUA’S TOO.”

“HE’S NOT HERE.”

“WELL, NEITHER AM I, NOW.” you turn on your heel, hand reaching for the doorknob. “i’ll just get the doc later—”

but before you can escape, he rasps, “don’t you dare tell joshua about this.”

you pause. smirk. oh, this is fun.

back still facing him, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob. you should leave. should pretend none of this ever happened. but something—some sick, wrong part of you—doesn’t want to.

so you turn. lean back against the door. cross your arms.

“what?” he snaps, shifting on the couch, the shirt still pitifully draped over his lap.

you tilt your head, dragging your gaze slowly down his body—his hard nipples, the taut muscles in his arms, the way his thighs tense like he’s fighting the urge to close them. you can see the way he twitches under the shirt.

“you’re still hard,” you note, your voice syrupy sweet, but your eyes gleam meanly.

seungcheol tenses. “so?”

“so… you’re mad at me for walking in,” you say, cocking a brow, “but you’re still hard as fuck.”

he grits his teeth, but his silence is loud as hell.

so you take a step forward. just one.

his breath hitches.

“cheol.” you coo at him. “you sure you hate me?”

he glares, but it’s weaker now, faltering under your scrutiny. you can see it—the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his pulse jumps in his throat, the way he’s not telling you to stop.

so you take another step.

and another.

until you’re standing right in front of him, the shirt the only barrier between his cock and your eyes.

his jaw tightens. “don’t.”

“don’t what?” you murmur, reaching forward to trace your fingers over his wrist—the one that was just wrapped around his cock. “don’t call you out? don’t get closer? don’t—”

in a flash, he grabs your wrist, yanking you down.

you gasp as you land on his lap, his hands firm on your hips, his cock pressing against your ass through the thin barrier of the shirt and your clothes.

his lips are right by your ear when he growls, “don’t fucking test me.”

you shiver, but you’re not scared, you’re thrilled.

so you shift, pressing back against him, and smirk when he lets out a sharp breath through his nose.

“or what?” you whisper.

his grip tightens. “you really wanna find out?”

your fingers curl into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.

“yeah,” you breathe, lips brushing his jaw. “i do.”

he snaps.

the shirt under you is gone.

his mouth crashes into yours, hot and angry, his hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to burn the shape of you into his palms. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue prying your mouth open, swallowing the gasp you let out when his fingers dig into your hips.

you grind down, moaning into his mouth when you feel just how fucking thick he is, leaking against your skirt.

his hands are rough when he yanks your skirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist with no intention of letting it fall back down. you barely have a second to breathe before his fingers push past your thighs, finding the front of your panties hooking his thumb into the damp fabric and pulling it to the side.

the rush of cold air makes you gasp, thighs trying to snap shut, but his thighs pins them open. and maybe, he has a shred of decency in him, because he lets out a low breath and murmurs, “this is gonna be rough.”

no warning. just that.

you should stop him. you should tell him to go slow, to prep you, to at least spit on it—but you don’t, you need to feel this big cock stretching you until every single thought inside your head gets completely erased.

there’s no lube, no prep besides the mess between your thighs, just the torturous process of sinking down.

seungcheol watches all of it. watches the way your lips part, how your lashes flutter, how your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders the lower you go. he’s leaning back against the couch, one hand gripping the plush of your ass, the other wrapped around his base, guiding you onto him like you’re something delicate. like he’s trying to help.

but he’s not.

because he knows what he’s doing when he taps his cockhead against your clit first, dragging the tip through your slick, coaxing out little whimpers that make him smirk. he knows what he’s doing when he presses up, just the tip slipping inside, barely enough to be satisfying but more than enough to make your thighs twitch.

your breath catches in your throat, your whole body twitching up as you take the next inch too fast. your brain is empty, your body is working on instinct, thighs shaking as you brace yourself against him, trying—failing—to push down further.

and he sees it. sees how you’re struggling, sees how your muscles twitch like you’re about to give out, sees how you want to take it but your body is fighting the stretch.

so he helps.

his hands clamp down on your waist.

and then he slams you down.

the sound that leaves your throat is so ruined that he cant help but feel a bit of compassion.

because suddenly you’re full. suddenly you’re sitting completely in his lap, completely engulfed in him, your thighs flush against his, his cock buried so fucking deep that you can feel it pressing up against every nerve inside you.

but when you try to move, try to lift yourself even an inch—nothing.

your thighs won’t cooperate. your muscles won’t listen.

you can’t move.

“oh?” seungcheol tilts his head, smug grin curling at his lips as he grinds up, watching the way your mouth falls open at the sensation.

“too big for you, baby?”

you whimper.

“thought so.”

and then he takes control, because you can’t move—so he does it for you. his hands lift you effortlessly, dragging your hips up before slamming you back down, setting the pace, forcing your body to take what it’s given.

and you can’t think straight anymore. every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, every time he slams you down it punches little whimpers from your throat that only make him hungrier.

“awww… thought you were so tough. but you can’t even fuck yourself on my cock, huh?”

you cry out, body giving up, melting against his chest as you desperately try to follow his rhythm, hips twitching with little, pathetic attempts to keep up. your body isn’t even yours anymore—just a toy, something for seungcheol to use, something he’s breaking in with every brutal roll of his hips.

his fingers dig into your waist, gripping you so tight it hurts, but the pleasure drowns it out. you’re so deep into it, into him, that every ounce of shame has left your body, every shred of dignity gone. because you can’t do anything but take it, can’t do anything but let him use you like you were made for this.

he tilts his head, watching you fall apart, watching how your thighs tremble with every slap of his hips against yours.

“damn,” he laughs, licking his lips, voice mocking. “you’re making such a fucking mess of yourself.”

you whimper, forehead pressing against his collarbone.

and then he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“mm-mm, don’t hide now,” he says, smirking. “be a good girl and let me see that dumb little face while i ruin you.”

a sob rips from your throat, high-pitched and wrecked.

he groans, grinding up into you.

“fuck. bet the neighbors can hear you, huh? joshua’s gonna be so fucking embarrassed when he gets a noise complaint for his dumb little best friend getting dicked down like a whore.”

your whole body jerks, a whimper escaping your lips at the humiliation, the filth dripping from his tongue.

and he sees it.

his grin turns cruel.

“oh, you like that?” he taunts, thrusting up so deep your back arches. “you like knowing that you’re loud enough to make it everyone’s fucking problem? that you’re such a good little fucktoy for me that i can’t even keep you quiet?”

you nod, because you can’t lie. his fingers tighten around your jaw, his lips brushing against yours as he coos.

“poor little thing.”

he thrusts up again, so hard, so deep that your whole body bounces, hands scrambling against his chest, voice cracking in a choked-out sob.

and he moans, deep and satisfied, because you’re so fucking perfect for him. because your body is his to use, to mold, to ruin.

“joshua’s gonna kill me c-cheol.”

his hips snap up again, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“but you’ll tell him it was worth it, won’t you, baby?”

he smooths one over your back, pressing down so your tits rub against his burning skin, while the other stays firm on your hip, keeping you still. your body jerks with every pulse of his cock inside you, twitching as you flutter around him, so overstimulated you can’t tell where the pleasure starts or ends.

“s-seungcheol—” his name is nothing but a broken cry, muffled against his neck, but he’s relentless. he doesn’t even let you finish, just shifts his knees slightly and thrusts up into you with all the power in his core.

“fuck,” he hisses when you clamp down, crying out into his skin, and he wraps an arm fully around you to hold you up. “shh, baby, you’re being so loud.”

his hand snakes up your back, fingers tangling into your hair, forcing you to lift your head. you meet his gaze, and it knocks the breath from your lungs. he looks fucked, mouth parted, sweat dripping from his hairline, chest heaving, but he still manages to look at you like he’s about to devour you whole.

“c’mon,” he coos, tilting his head, his grip tightening just enough to make your scalp tingle. “tell me it was worth it. tell me how good my cock is.”

he punctuates it with a sharp snap of his hips and you keen, trying to lift yourself, trying to relieve some of the intensity, but your thighs betray you. seungcheol laughs, breathless but smug, and his fingers press bruises into your skin as he maneuvers you like you weigh nothing.

“see? can’t even move, huh? my poor baby,” he murmurs, voice syrupy sweet, his free hand cupping your cheek now. “you’re just gonna sit here and take it like the perfect fucktoy you are.”

heat prickles at your skin at the words, your brain too fogged up to be embarrassed, too fucked out to do anything but let him guide you. he rocks you against him, making sure you feel every inch of him dragging against your walls, rubbing at all the right places, pressing into you deeper than you thought was even possible.

“you take me so well, baby,” he praises, leaning in to press his lips against yours, just enough to tease. “so fuckin’ tight, so warm—fucking heaven.”

his hand slides between your bodies, two fingers finding your swollen, neglected clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over it. the sensation makes your thighs twitch, your nails dig into his back, a fresh wave of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

“shhh, i got you, baby,” he whispers, kissing your jaw now, your temple. his fingers on your clit work in time with the slow, torturous grind of his hips. “i got you, yeah? you gonna cum for me? hm?”

he kisses you full on the mouth when you sob, swallowing the sound like he wants to keep it forever. and then he speeds up just a little, rolling your clit with more pressure, meeting every rut of your hips with a firm thrust up.

you shatter.

your whole body seizes, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as you clamp down so tight on him that it sends him tumbling over the edge with you. he groans, long and low, holding you so tight against him that you can feel every pulse of his cum inside you, hot and deep. his hips jerk once, twice more before he stills, forehead pressed against yours as you both gasp for air.

it’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds are the distant hum of the city outside the window, and the soft squelch when he finally shifts, making you both moan.

your body trembles like a leaf caught in the wind, and seungcheol drinks it in, the heat of your overstimulated form twitching against his chest as he presses slow, lingering kisses into the curve of your neck. his lips move down, sucking at the pulse point that hammers beneath your skin. your breath stutters. his fingers, nails just barely grazing, trail down the arch of your spine, featherlight but enough to make you shiver. you barely even realize you’re moving, the last bit of strength in your boneless limbs used to weakly push yourself up, to let his cock slip free from where it’s buried inside you.

the second it leaves you, your body gives out. you collapse right into his chest, heavier than before, spent and trembling, the exhaustion hitting all at once. you can’t even pretend to be embarrassed about it. you just sigh, your lips brushing the base of his throat as you settle against him, body limp.

seungcheol holds you steady with both hands, like he’s afraid you might melt right into the couch and disappear. his broad palm cradles the back of your head, fingers splaying across your scalp, scratching at your roots. he keeps the other hand wrapped around your waist, thumb stroking absentmindedly against your ribs. the tension in his body hasn’t left yet. his shoulders are still tight. you know him well enough to know what’s coming before he even says it.

“you good?”

you hum in response, nuzzling into his chest as your fingers curl weakly against his pecs. “just a little sore.”

he exhales through his nose. shifts beneath you. you can feel his fingers flex where they rest on your waist, like he wants to squeeze but holds himself back. then, with zero effort, he grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, just enough to force you to look at him. your lids are heavy, half-lidded, dazed, and fuck, that shouldn’t make him feel so possessive, but it does.

his thumb sweeps across your cheek, his jaw tensing. “shit. i’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes scanning over your features like he’s searching for anything more than just exhaustion. “lemme take care of you, hm?”

you don’t have it in you to resist, don’t even want to. you let him move you, let him handle you like you weigh nothing as he lifts you from his lap and shifts you onto the couch, laying you down as if you’re something delicate. and maybe you are, now, after the way he ruined you. maybe that’s why you don’t fight him when he presses your thighs apart, watching as they just fall open on their own, spread wide like a doll.

you don’t have the strength to do much else than whimper softly as his thumbs spread you further, gaze locked onto your swollen cunt, still so slick from where he fucked you. his jaw clenches.

you don’t even get a warning before he moves in, before his hands grip your thighs to keep them open as he dives between them, mouth sealing over your clit in one slow stroke of his tongue.

you jolt, a weak little gasp punching from your lungs. your fingers barely find the energy to tangle into his hair, and the grip is nowhere near as firm as it usually is, but he groans anyway. whether it’s from the feeling of your grip or from the way you instantly react to him, you don’t know. but he doesn’t stop.

his tongue moves slow, warm and so fucking wet as he licks broad, flat strokes over your sensitive flesh, working you open again with patience. he isn’t trying to overstimulate, isn’t trying to get you off again—though you can already tell it wouldn’t take much. his focus is entirely on easing the ache, on massaging every tender inch of you with his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

“feels good?” his voice is muffled against you, but it vibrates in just the right way.

you nod, breath hitching when he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue rolling it in slow circles. your body twitches, heat curling at the base of your spine. “cheol…”

he moans against you, and presses you down harder against his face. your hips jump, an embarrassing whimper breaking free as his tongue dips lower, tracing around your entrance before dragging back up, collecting every bit of slick along the way.

you whine, fingers curling tighter in his hair. he doesn’t tease. doesn’t prolong it. just keeps his pace slow and steady, gentle enough to soothe, firm enough to keep you on the edge of something, even if you’re too sensitive to chase it. and if the way he’s grinding his hips into the couch tells you anything—it’s that he’s just as affected as you are.

he’s not eating you out to get himself off, but fuck if it isn’t working.

the obscene sounds of his mouth working between your thighs filling the entire apartment, mixing in with your breathless moans and the way he groans right into your cunt. you don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed about the way your cum is smeared all over his chin, his jaw, his cheeks—how it drips down onto the couch below with every intentional roll of his tongue against your entrance.

his tongue works in circles, pressing flat to your hole before dragging up again, tasting every bit of your arousal as it gushes out onto his lips. his mouth is open the entire time, tongue rolling and flicking, nose nudging against your clit as he angles his head lower. he flattens his tongue, groaning as he drags it up through your folds before plunging it into you, so messy that you swear you see white behind your eyelids.

your back arches, chest rising in sharp, hiccupped gasps, every single nerve in your body on flames. your thighs twitch in his grasp, and he squeezes them tighter, keeping you spread open just for him. his hands slide up, one wrapping firmly around your waist, keeping you pinned in place, while the other travels up, up—his fingers finding the stiff peaks of your nipples.

your eyes snap open, a gasp catching in your throat as he rolls one between his fingertips, twisting just enough to make your eyes roll. you swear you hear him chuckle against you, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“breathe,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your clit before sucking it between his teeth, tongue rolling in lazy, teasing circles on the swollen bud. “breathe for me, baby.”

you try. you really do. but the way his mouth moves, the way his fingers tweak and pull, it’s too much. you’re spiraling. you feel another orgasm creeping up so fast it steals the air right out of your lungs.

he sees it. he knows.

his grip tightens on your thigh, his tongue flicking faster, working you open as his free hand continues to play with your tits, kneading the soft flesh, fingers rolling your nipples in rhythm with the lazy grind of his tongue against your clit.

your moans turn high-pitched, desperate. your body twists beneath him, unable to keep still as the pleasure builds, climbing higher and higher.

but then—a whimper.

not from you.

from him.

you force your heavy lids open, head lolling to the side as you try to focus on him. and fuck, the sight that greets you is almost enough to make you cum then and there.

seungcheol is rutting against the couch. grinding, fucking humping it like a damn dog, his hips rolling in slow thrusts, his rock-hard cock straining against his stomach, smearing precum all over his abs and the fabric beneath him.

he whimpers again, this time louder, his brows furrowed, his breath coming in short, uneven pants.

“fuck,” he groans, mouth still pressed against you, voice muffled by the way his tongue keeps working you over. he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening, his chin soaked. his eyes are dark, glassy, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you. “can’t—fuck, i can’t stop. you taste too good.”

your chest tightens, a desperate, aching cry slipping from your lips as you clutch at his hair, thighs twitching in his grasp. “cheol—gonna—gonna cum, oh my god—”

he moans, actually fucking moans, his hips grinding down harder against the couch as he redoubles his efforts, tongue circling your clit in precise, teasing flicks, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to send you over the edge.

your body locks up. your back arches. your mouth falls open, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, all-consuming.

seungcheol doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow down. he works you through it like it’s his mission, licking you clean, his tongue rolling over your entrance, collecting every last drop as your body trembles violently beneath him.

your chest heaves, your vision blurring, but even through the haze, you can feel him still grinding against the couch, still so fucking hard and desperate, all because of you.

your brain is slow. dial-up connection slow. everything feels like it’s underwater, your body floating somewhere between consciousness and the best orgasm-induced coma of your life. it’s warm, so warm, like your body is still riding out the fever of your high, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth, throat dry, muscles heavy like they’re full of sand.

you don’t even remember when it happened—when you blacked out, when you got moved. just flashes of cool wipes dragging over your skin, a damp cloth pressed between your thighs, seungcheol’s hands gentle, careful, murmuring something you were too gone to comprehend. like déjà vu, like something out of a dream.

but you’re awake now. sort of. and you’re in his bed.

the sheets are soft, cool against your fevered skin, and it feels so good that you can’t help the tired, pleased moan that slips past your lips, involuntary, barely conscious.

but it’s enough to make him look at you.

you blink, vision still a little hazy, but yeah, that’s definitely seungcheol, sitting at his desk, dressed in a loose shirt and sweats, hair damp, probably from a shower. there’s a slight smirk on his lips, but his eyes are soft as they sweep over you, taking in the way you’re still half-buried in his sheets, limbs heavy, body relaxed.

then it hits you.

the documents.

joshua.

fuck.

your eyes widen, and you jolt up too fast, regretting it immediately when the soreness between your thighs protests, a sharp ache shooting up your spine. “fuck—”

seungcheol’s already up, one hand pressing to your shoulder, guiding you back down before you can do any more damage. “hey, hey, relax. you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“the—documents,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut again as the exhaustion creeps back in. “joshua.”

he chuckles, and you open your eyes just in time to see him shaking a small stack of papers in his hand. “yeah, yeah. i got it. sent them over while you were passed out.”

you frown, groggy. “i was supposed to send them.”

“and joshua needs to get used to me handling shit for you,” he says, grinning as he sets the papers down. “besides, he’d probably prefer not to get another noise complaint under his name.”

your face heats up instantly. “oh my god.”

“mhmm,” seungcheol hums, tilting his head. “wanna know how loud you were?”

“no.”

he laughs, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, thumb tracing your cheek. “then go back to sleep, baby.”

you glare at him. or, at least, you try to. it’s weak, and he knows it, because all it takes is one more stroke of his thumb before your eyes flutter shut again, body sinking further into his bed.

yeah. you can fight him about the joshua thing later. maybe. probably not.

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