#no one deserves that!!! kai!!! do better!!!

[blazingsourpuss]

                                    He knew that nothing he was saying would be enough to forgive him for what he done. Kai did not DESERVE any forgiveness. The fact that she was willing to even hear him out & not just slam the door in his face & rightfully so. What he done & the way he did was INEXUSABLE, plain & simple. Rei was right, they weren't children anything & he was responsible for his own actions & feelings. No one else to DESERVES to be on the receiving end of his disregard.

                                & then, it happened. There was no way to escape his crime anymore for it was his negligence & disregard that brought him to this point. & she was nothing more than a CASUALITY of it all. Her tears fell; nothing else mattered to him in that instance. Not the tournament, not blading, not dranzer, not being the best. Its really UNFORTUNATE that in order to put priorities in order those that weren't before need to be burned. 

                           HANG HIM FOR THIS TRANSGRESSION! How dare he make her this way! & what does he have to say for himself? Well...what can he say? They were past the point of sorry & I'll never do it again. The best he could do, no, the only right thing to do was to let her get it all out in whatever way she saw fit. There was no RIGHT & WRONG in this instance.

                         & the more she cried into him & the more he made himself reflect on what he could have done different. Would have truly been that different to let her know BEFORE he left? A simple 'I am doing this thing & will be radio silent until we come back' would have been a thought REGULAR PEOPLE would have easily. Having to navigate this pesky thing love was becoming the most CHALLENGEING thing he'd had to work out to date. But, for her, it meant she'd never have to cry again because of him (OF ALL PEOPLE) he'd do anything.

                       He had a bit of a height difference on her & as she continued to curse his name Kai stayed silent. It was his signature & many people thought him rude for it. But, in the silence he listened. He observed & took mental notes. He did the same thing here because this CANNOT happen again. Not by him. Not by anyone. His hair continued to cover his eyes but Kai's gaze was still intense; he looked angry but to at her, never her.

                      Why wasn't she shoving him away? Why wasn't she telling him to leave & never come back? What wasn't she doing to him what he was SURE he deserves? It didn't make sense to him & that in it of itself, is a problem. It was not her job to teach him how to treat her. SHE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO. He knew that. He royally FUCKED up. ❛ If I wanted to break up, I wouldn't show my face to you ever again. But...I fear there is nothing I can do to fix this. ❜ His tone, SOMBER. His demeanor, DESPONDENT. HE HAD TO ADMIT DEFEAT. ❛ I already lost you...didn't I? ❜

                      Kai didn't wait for an answer out of fear of being proven right. He instead, allowed instinct to take over. This was probably the last time they would ever be like this & to end it in such a manner most UNBECOMING. He had to give her what she deserved. She had a right to it & not even he can keep it from her. Kai stepped alittle closer & almost shadowed her. Without thinking about it & not caring what will come to for doing it, Kai allowed his arm to wrap around Hotaru & envelope her in his embrace. Against his chest he held firm & in her neck his face buried. Any minute she'll push & kick him away & that will be ok. He braced himself for it but not before saying what needed to be said.

                    ❛ I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry. ❜

                                                                       (LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!)

she's known this feeling before, in a lifetime so near & yet not her own. that familiar sour taste of being left behind, abandoned, forgotten. it's a cold that settles deep, woven into her bones; a cold that no fire could ever provide enough warmth to keep at bay. except, of course, everything about kai has always burned brighter than any fire she’s even known. dangerous, & yet, always able to draw her in again. 

❝ how dare you - ❞ she starts, the words catching on themselves. hotaru tells herself to move, to evade - get away before he can try & lower her guard with this act of tenderness. but the instant the curve of his palm reaches her cheek, her walls begin to crumble. what began as one tear becomes two, becomes more, becomes sadness that hazes her vision & spills over lower lashes too quickly for her to stop.

she wants to be comforted. she wants to let him wipe her tears, wants to lean closer into the calloused warmth of his palm. she wants to close her eyes & forget that these past few months ever happened - he’s just visiting her for the first time in a few days; she’ll lace her fingers through his & allow him to guide her somewhere else, anywhere else. a cafe for lunch, a museum to peruse, any place where it could be just the two of them. 

but of course it’s never that simple. ( things rarely are for her. )

this wasn't worth it. he could say that all he wants, but how could hotaru have ever considered any different ? it was clearly worth it when he didn't consider anything she did to contact him worthy of a reply. she can feel something hot churning in her chest, like a kettle beginning to whistle & scream as its contents boils.

❝ you have no idea how - how worried i was. i thought i did something wrong, i thought you hated me - you just left without a word ! like you didn’t care, like i never meant fucking anything - ❞ it's the first time in weeks she's let herself cry so openly about this. & by the stars does it hurt. but beneath that, beneath the raw anguish that still wants to wail & bare its teeth, there’s relief. she’s earned this.

& perhaps she's being selfish - it's the most self - centered she's allowed her words to be in a long, long time. but she doesn't care. her fingers are around his wrist, feeling the thrum of a pulse just beneath. she wants to push him away. she wants to pull him closer. all she can manage to do is squeeze, as though to give her power over a decision she has no desire to make.

❝ you have no idea what that did to me, ❞ hotaru whispers, the faintest remnants of venom still clinging to her tongue. the explosive wave of her grief has subsided, mellowing once more to barely brush along a battered shoreline. she doesn’t have the energy to maintain that heightened level for more than a moment or two. but proud through it all, her free hand rises to wipe the evidence of distress from her face, a long, shuddering breath escaping her chest. she feels … lighter, at least. not better, but lighter. ❝ if you’d wanted to break up with me, i would’ve preferred if you just said so. instead of - instead of this. ❞

[memento-mariii]

A bond between a girl and her robot is something that can be so special.

[somewhatgayerthanistypicalfurina]

Tbh the way people on this website(/presumably other websites too but this is the one on which I see strangers opinions most often) talk about twinks soooooo derogatorily really Does make me super uncomfortable. It feels really homophobic in a way I haven't been able to nail down precisely

But just like. Always using twink as a derogatory thing and undesirable both to be or to want. Not really outright saying twinks aren't real men but IMPLYING it through comparisons to Real Men that are Big and Strong And Hairy. Like okay? You want big muscle men? You and every mainstream media in existence...? Why are people pretending that hating twinks is subversive. Why are people pretending that twinks are widely seen as the best sort of man.

And like it's EXPECTED for men to be able to grow lots of body hair and to get lots of muscle and be thick and sturdy and strong. And men are shamed for not being hairy enough and they are shamed for being twiggy and WHY are you doing it MORE but using gay words. Saying bears are sooooooo great but twinks are sooooo icky doesn't magically make you Not body shaming a group of people for Exactly The Reasons They Are Already Bodyshamed

Idk. Bwah. This isn't even me being firsthand butthurt bc I don't actually think I would be seen as a twink? But I am so tired of feeling like a fake gay and looked down on for not really being very into the typical male beauty standards

[bonnie-sheila-bennett]

[comradecowplant]

Mental health status: just caught up to the most recent episode of the currently airing season of grey's anatomy 😬😬😬

[0alanasworld0]

...

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

Sometimes I think about how Yasmine and Moon's EDs were played entirely as a joke in S1, and I just. Am not a fan at all

ppl rly hate girls with eating disorders tbh. did anyone else notice this

[o-sachi]

My Golden Girl ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ Kaiser loves his generous golden girl, but he hates it when people take advantage of her kindness

ଳ character; michael kaiser (bllk)

ଳ tags; afab reader, no y/n, FLOOF, soft mihya

[🐟]: This takes place before the Blue Lock project, so Kaiser should still be in Germany and practicing with Bastard.

The moon can only shine at night because of the sun.

That's what your relationship is like with Kaiser.

He honestly had no idea where he'd be without you. There were days when he felt like he was slowly losing himself—drowning in the pressure to remain at the top. But as he teeters on the edge, you always come to pull him right back in.

Your sweet words at the end of his day were enough to keep him grounded. As a matter of fact, you barely needed to do much to pacify him. But knowing you—you would go over and beyond for him. Seriously. It puzzles him why someone as pure as you would mess around with someone like him.

But who was he to question you?

"Yo, your girlfriend's been here for like an hour. Have you even seen her already?" Kaiser snaps out of his daydream as the locker room door swings open. It was some guy from his team who he never really bothered to remember the name of. His gaze follows his teammate as he saunters over to his locker.

"Eh... but she's out helping the managers again." That's when his attention was truly caught. "She's what?" "Y'know... handing out bottles and stuff. You should ask her to become a manager too. She'll fit right in." Tsk.

Kaiser shakes his head and grabs the towel off of his head. He aimlessly chucks the piece of fabric to the side and gets up without another word.

His teammate watches—dumbfounded—at the lack of a response. "Hey, Kai-"

But as soon as he spoke, Kaiser was already out of the door.

He wasn't angry or annoyed that you showed up unannounced. Truthfully, he didn't know what he felt. There was a reason why he avoided bringing you or inviting you to his practices.

You were too kind for your own good and the people here aren't shy about taking advantage of you.

Kaiser was stuck between a rock and hard place. One on hand, he loved that you cared enough about him to go out of your way even help the management or even his team. He couldn't bring himself to scold anyone—especially not you. On another, he knew what they were doing to you. They pretended to be all nice and sweet when asking you favors. But don't they have any shame asking so much from you?

Just like what Mr. Forgettable Name said earlier, you were almost like a manager here. But, fuck that. You're supposed to be a guest. You're his girlfriend, so you deserve nothing but the best treatment.

Yet, here he was—watching you as you scurry around, handing water bottles to his... not teammates. What the hell were you even doing giving water to the second string players? Jesus. He wasn't even sure if they were on the second string.

The more he observed, the angrier he became. Someone better hold him back and tell him what he just witnessed wasn't what he thought because one of the players definitely handed you an empty bottle—which, of course, you threw in the trash for him.

Sure, he's probably tired from running all day and yeah, you were closer to the trash bin. But who the fuck does he think he is to ask you of something like that?

He didn't even notice that his legs moved on their own. His body wanted nothing but to walk over to you. Never mind what his heart was telling him.

"Hey."

You spun around, knowing whose voice it was that almost startled you. His bright blue eyes peered down at you and he seemed... a bit pissed.

"Sorry... I know I should've told you that I was coming today, but-" Kaiser sighs heavily, running his tattooed hand through his blonde locks. "Don't apologize. I'm not mad—I just..."

But he was—he was most definitely mad. Just not at you.

It was like the world was testing the limits of his patience today because damn was he not even able to finish his sentence without another person bothering you.

As Kaiser struggled to express himself, one of the managers taps you on your shoulder. She had on the fake smile she always wore whenever she'd ask you a favor.

"Can you go distribute the lunch for the players today? I just have some paperwork to go over. You know how it is... managers get busy~"

Before you could even respond, Kaiser steps forward—putting distance between you and the manager. "And why would she do that? Isn't that your job?"

You grabbed his arm, telling him that it's alright. In a way, his team and the people who manage it have become your friends. You appreciate them for taking care of your boyfriend while you're not there and you're grateful for their warm greetings whenever you walk past any of them.

There wasn't any issue in you helping these people... or so you thought.

The manager smiles nervously at Kaiser, but she doesn't back down. "Well... I mean... if she's willing to do it, right? What's the harm in that?"

Kaiser exhales audibly. This is why he doesn't confront this dynamic. The manager was partially right because his girlfriend was always willing to help no matter what. Now he looked like the bad guy here.

The conversation shifted to an awkward atmosphere. All three of them felt it. But she was the first to break the ice... as usual.

"Mihya, it's alright. I like helping out the team. Consider it as me helping you as well," she says, smiling warmly.

"Baby," he clicks his tongue. "Forgive me, but... how the hell does it help me when you hand out water and food to these third stringers?"

Your eyes widen. "Mihya! Tone it down; they'll hear you."

He scoffs. "So what? Let them hear it."

At this point, the manager had grown quiet, slowly distancing herself from the developing quarrel.

"I've had enough watching people like her," he says, pointing at the manager before she could escape, "take advantage of you."

"It's not your job to hand out lunch boxes to everyone nor is it your responsibility to make sure they're hydrated. Baby—you might as well wipe their sweat for them while you're at it," he adds.

As he released these pent up frustrations, he failed to notice the gradual increase in the volume of his voice. It wasn't just you and the manager hearing it—but everyone else on the field. Even those who were far away, ran over to the commotion.

Kaiser never gave up even a second for you to butt in. "Remember that time they asked you to run to the nearby convenience store to buy God-knows-what? Or that time you had to go with... with... whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is to the hospital?"

"It's Igor," a faint voice reminds him.

"Shut the fuck up!" he retorts. Kaiser sighs deeply, the realization that everyone else was listening finally dawning on him. "What I'm trying to say is that... I'm just tired of seeing you be used like that, especially since I know how pure your heart is and all that," he says, softly.

He wanted the last part to be heard only by you. After all, you were the only one that mattered to him at the moment.

You were... well... staring at him in awe. Speechless. Unmoving. Stunned.

You were clueless to how he felt. Sure, they did ask too much of you. But you didn't think Kaiser was observing you to that degree. Your heart melted at his personal show of affection right in front of everyone.

"Mihya..."

You felt stupid that you could only mutter his name despite everything he had said. But before you could do anything else, his large hand grabs on to your wrist—pulling you along with him. His strides were purposeful and his grasp was firm. You hurriedly shuffled to keep up with his pace.

After gaining some distance from the group, Kaiser halts and turns to look back at them one last time.

"If I see any of you ask a favor from her again—I'll make sure to deal with you."

A promise and a threat.

He yanks you again and continues walking away. Overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, you try to stop him despite his strength. "Hey... slow down. Let's talk... please?"

Kaiser blatantly ignores you, only stopping once you were inside of the facility and away from prying eyes. The firm grip that once wrapped around your wrist was replaced by a gentle caress as he brought your hand to his lips.

"Sorry... I got carried away. You know I can't let them do tha-"

"It's okay. I understand. Thank you for standing up for me," you say, cutting him off.

He blinks a couple of times, surprised at how well you took it. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad at my boyfriend protecting me?"

You couldn't help but giggle at him. How silly would it be for you to get angry at him right now? What he did was one of the sweetest things anyone could do for someone; not everyone is brave enough to stand up for their significant other like that.

His look of astonishment was quickly replaced with a small smile. "I guess you're right, baby."

And before you know it, you were already caged in his warm embrace.

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[iwannaleavemymind]

Omg I can’t stop thinking about incubus Sukuna-

Minors dni

Enjoy my little feins❤️❤️❤️

Incubus!Sukuna who mocks you when you ‘accidentally’ summon him.

“Aw the lonely girl just fuckin around with magic and found her way to me hm?”

Incubus!Sukuna has your pretty lips wrapped around his cock in only a few minutes, his tip bullying the back of your throat, degrading and mocking the way you drool all over him.

“Tsk, such a messy girl.”

Incubus!Sukuna roughly thrusting in an out of your abused throat, fucking you like his own personal toy all for himself.

Incubus!Sukuna degrading you when you struggle to take him fully, muffled whimpers and tears streak down your face fuel his sadistic fantasies, quickly tightening his grip on your hair and tugging your head back, tongue lolling out and finally coming up for air.

Incubus!Sukuna cums all on your tongue, making you swallow his seed and sticking your tongue out to prove it.

“Mm good girl.”

Incubus!Sukuna lifting you up princess style, tossing you into the bed and catching your lips in a hot needy kiss, his hands roaming your body his hands kneeling the soft skin of your breasts.

“Cmon princess use your words.”

Incubus!Sukuna makes quick work of slipping you out of your clothes, stripping you down to your lacy bra and panties, his fingers toying with your soaked pussy, thumb circling and pinching your clit causing little whimpers and cries to slip past your lips.

Incubus!Sukuna ripping the delicate fabric with ease, lining himself up with your entrance and slowly pushing into your core, eyes wide in a mix of pain and pleasure from adjusting to the sheer size of him.

Incubus!Sukuna teasing and mocking you because you’re just so tight and fucking perfect for him.

“Fuck princess S’fuckin wet, ya’ like that hm?”

Incubus!Sukuna setting a slow deep pace at first, hitting all the right spots, your lips forming an O shape lost in the pleasure as his hips slowly snap back and forth, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.

Incubus!Sukuna holding back, fucking you deep and sensually at first-

But it’s so easy for him to lose control.

Incubus!Sukuna hooking both legs above his shoulders and toying with your sensitive clit, pounding you at an inhuman pace.

“Hah- made it so hard girl- how could I not fuck you the way you deserve?”

Incubus!Sukuna fucking you so rough, but so right, your sloppy cunt gushing around his cock, soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

Incubus!Sukuna keeping your shaky legs up, fucking you through your orgasm, crying and pleading for him to slow down.

“Shut up and take it princess, y’wanted this- hah- right?”

Incubus!Sukuna pounding your poor body into the mattress, tits bouncing up and down and legs strewn up in the air, almost going limp by how fucking deep he is. It’s not long before your squirting all over his cock, clear slick covering his lower abdomen and your inner thighs.

Incubus!Sukuna only being spurred on more by your sweet pussy’s reaction, fucking you even faster like a rabid animal, your sensitive cunt twitching and fluttering uncontrollably around him and tear streaked cheeks with a mouth begging for more.

“Let’s make her do that again, ‘Kay princess?”

Incubus!Sukuna’s hips snapping roughly over and over against yours, his tip hitting your g spot just right uncontrollably cumming again and again all over him, your body feeling like it’ll give out but he keeps going, he was know for his stamina, stupid girl should’ve known better?

“God you’re so fucking sensitive hah- so wet and pretty f’me.”

Incubus!Sukunas right index and middle finger mercilessly toying with your clit and his cock pumping you full of his seed causing another white hot orgasm to rip through your body. Cries and moans come from your pretty bruised lips, his own hungry ones claiming them over and over to muffle your moans.

Incubus!Sukuna fucking you full of his cum; waiting for you to come down from your high before pulling out and cleaning you up and drawing a nice bath for you <3

“She’s mine princess got that?”

[bitchkay]

This whole fic series altered my brain chemistry.

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.

FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.

“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.

“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.

“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.

For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.

“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.

“Hey back.”

He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.

“Skipper?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.

“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”

He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.

“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?

You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.

“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.

At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”

“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”

Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”

“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.

“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.

You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”

Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.

“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”

“That’s fucked,” you murmur.

Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.

The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.

“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”

You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”

“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”

“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”

“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.

Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”

“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.

For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.

It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.

She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”

He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.

“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.

Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.

Oh, shit.

“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don’t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”

But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”

“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”

“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”

Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”

Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.

“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”

Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!

“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.

“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.

“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.

“You know.”

“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”

This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”

“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”

“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”

“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”

He shrugs. “You meet them all.”

Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.

“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.

“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.

You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.

“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.

“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.

“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.

“Hi!” you call back.

Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”

“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”

“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”

You snort. What an understatement.

“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.

“I love family,” Toge says.

You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”

“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“

“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”

“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.

“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”

“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”

Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”

“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”

“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.

—

Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.

It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.

Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.

“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”

“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.

“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”

She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”

The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”

He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”

“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”

“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.

Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.

“One day and I run fresh out of light…”

Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”

“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.

“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.

Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.

You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.

You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.

“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.

“I’m a journalist.”

“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.

“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.

“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.

“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”

Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”

“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”

It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”

He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”

—

The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.

You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.

“Well, then.” The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.

Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.

“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.

Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.

He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”

“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.

“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.

“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”

You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.

Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”

“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”

He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.

And so you do.

The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.

You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.

After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.

Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.

You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.

“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”

“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”

“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”

You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”

You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”

“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”

“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.

You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?

“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”

“Ah, well, I—”

“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.

It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.

—

Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.

Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.

“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”

You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”

She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.

“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”

“No.”

“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”

Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”

“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”

Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”

Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.

Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.

You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.

“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”

That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.

You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”

You are alive.

The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.

Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.

From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.

“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.

“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.

“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”

You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.

“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”

This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.

“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”

All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”

It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”

Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”

“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.

It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.

You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.

“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”

You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.

Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.

You almost don’t hear it.

“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”

You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.

“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.

“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”

Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.

Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.

You close the door.

It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.

—

TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.

The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.

In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).

“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.

“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”

You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He’s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.

“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.

“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”

Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.

Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.

The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”

“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”

Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”

“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”

“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.

“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.

You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”

Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”

Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”

It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.

“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.

Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.

“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”

You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.

“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”

“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”

“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”

You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.

“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”

“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”

“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”

“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.

It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.

Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”

“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”

You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.

“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”

You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?

“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”

Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.

“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”

He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.

“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”

Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.

“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.

“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.

Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.

“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”

“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”

“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.

“Oh, no. Yuta—”

The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of��TiK ToK by Ke$ha.

“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.

You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”

Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.

You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.

After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.

Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.

“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.

“I love you, too.”

directory | prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222 @honeyyhuggs

a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!

@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments

i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!

[silvergyus]

Congrats on 500! Well deserved 😊

I have an obsession of txt's noises so::: Most to least likely to be the loudest in bed and what do you think they sound like? 😀

omg I can't believe this took me this long to get to this! if I think about txt's noises too long I have to sit down and drink a glass of ice water with a big fan, cartoon style lmao. I hope that this furthers your obsession🤭

MOST

YEONJUN

when he feels good his brain just slows down and he's just stream of consciousness saying what he feels. the ideal man (imo) because he's just talking the whole time. "yeah, you like that?" and "ohhhh so pretty for me" in the span of two seconds. when he's in a clear headspace he'll def talk you through it, but when he starts feeling really good he's just kinda blabbering. whines when he gets close. isn't one to outright moan so often, but whines and yaps please be loud for him too. likes hearing you moan and whimper and cry out his name. loves hearing how good he makes you feel

BEOMGYU

has two modes: soft quiet baby boy and motormouth menace. when you have soft sex he is the sweetest baby, quiet and gentle. soft sighs falling quietly from his pretty lips. the sounds of your kisses louder than any noise he makes. but when the two of y'all are fucking, that's a whole different story. runs his mouth telling you what to do, how he likes it, how good you feel. when he gets like this you'd better hope no one else is even on the floor because he doesn't care who hears you likes hearing you but also loves making you stay quiet. quickies in the dressing room with his hand over your mouth. fucking you into the mattress when he knows soobin and kai are in the living room playing league

HUENINGKAI

isn't really loud on purpose but makes so many pretty noises that they add up. lots of soft "oh"s and "mmmh"s when you take off your clothes or make him feel good. please please please run your nails across his back when he's fucking you. lets out the prettiest hiss of breath when you do and fucks you faster. always tries to bury his face in your neck or chest when he cums because he can't help the sounds he makes. completely dead silent if he's being a brat or trying to punish you, but if there aren't any dynamics at play he is just a sweet boy who can't help the sound he makes

SOOBIN

doesn't really say much because his head goes dumb when he feels you on his cock, but he has lots of involuntary noises. boobie lover soobin will let out a soft groan when you pull your top off, a sharp intake of breath when you let him touch them, and a loud, embarrassing groan when you let him put his face in them. whines if you tease him but if you're being nice expect heavy breathing and soft moans against your skin. moans loudly when he cums- head falling back, eyes squeezing shut- but gets shy after (what if the other boys heard?)

TAEHYUN

will talk you through it on occasion, but is generally more of a soft sighs and quiet grunts type of guy. the kind of guy to not say much but will whisper a "you're so beautiful" in the middle that makes you melt gets off on your noises though. part of why he's so quiet is that he wants to hear every sound you make. if something he does makes you moan or whimper, he'll keep doing it until you cum again and again. anything and everything to hear you

LEAST

[sanguineterrain]

This is not on the prompt list(s), but I’ve been inspired by the phrase “This is for your own good.” and could we have a debut Red Hood Jason saying this to Vigilante!Reader, who was also his pre-death lover, as he’s keeping her prisoner in one of his bases so that she won’t be caught in the crossfire?

OOH. interesting prompt. I haven't really written a darker jason 😏 thanks anon! hope you like.

jason todd x gn!reader. DARK THEMES. drugging, toxic relationship, codependency, chain restraints, knife threats (not from jason). what would happen if jason's best traits (protecting the people he loves, prioritizing safety) manifested in the worst way?

****

"This is for your own good, baby."

You pull at your chains, making them clink against the floor. You snarl as he steps back.

"This is crazy, Jason! Let me go!"

Jason looks at you in sympathy. It pains him to see you like this; Jason never wants to do anything that'll frighten or upset you. Your comfort and happiness always precede his. He'd put a gun into his mouth without hesitation if it would save you.

But he means it: this really is for your own good.

"I thought you were better than this," you say savagely. "I thought you of all people would understand how wrong this is."

"I know it's wrong," Jason says quietly. "I know I'm a bastard and fucked in the head. I know I don't deserve ya. But this is the only way. You won't stop going out there. You're too sweet for this city. It'll tear you apart, and I won't let that happen."

"That isn't your decision to make, Jason!" you say, squirming in your restraints.

You take a deep breath. The Bats only respond to logic when they're this deep in paranoia. You have to appeal to that.

"Jason, listen to me. I know you're scared of me getting hurt, but I know what I'm doing. I've done this for a long time, just like you—"

"And that's exactly where the danger lies. Things go wrong all the time, no matter how long you've been out there. I'm expendable. You're not."

Jason tugs once, twice, three times on your ankles and wrists. Satisfied, he moves on to the chain around your waist that's connected to the wall. It gives you a walking range of about five feet before you're yanked back. Jason had fussed about bedsores, and what keeping you in a bed would do to your range of motion. This was his compromise.

I'm not a monster, he'd insisted. I don't want to hurt you.

"Jason, please," you say. He starts to walk away and you chase him. The wall chain pulls and you land on your knees. Jason stops, looking down at you. You start to cry.

"Jason, please, please! Please don't leave me like this," you say, reaching with bound hands to grab his pant leg. "Please. This isn't right. I'm not a doll for your keeping!"

"I don't think of you as a doll," Jason says, kneeling in front of you. He holds your cheek and wipes a tear with a gloved thumb. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. Please don't cry. Hate to see it. I won't keep you like this forever. 'S just until I finish up in Gotham. Then we can go away from all this. Live normal lives."

"This is the life I want to live!" you shout, pawing at his clothes. "Let me go, Jason, let me go!"

"Baby. Hey, hey. You're gonna work yourself into a frenzy. Y'want something to calm you down? Make y'feel nice and sleepy."

Your blood turns to ice. No. No drugs. If Jason drugs you now, there's no telling when or if he'll stop. This is a man who was trained by Batman. You're sure he knows about every drug there's to know about.

You shake your head, your crying becoming quiet blubbering. "No. N-no drugs. Please."

He pets your forehead. "'Kay. No drugs, baby. 'S okay, see? I'll be back in a few hours and then we can eat and I'll draw you a bubble bath. Those are your favorite, remember?"

Jason kisses your salty cheek and stands, putting on his helmet. Like this, looming over you, in full Hood gear, Jason is terrifying. The reminder strikes you again, how capable and deadly your lover is.

Jason leans in and pets your cheek. "So pretty. Love you so much. Won't let anything happen to you, baby."

You watch, defeated, as Jason leaves, locking the door behind him. You listen for the sound of the lock clicking.

Then you get to work on finding an escape.

****

You keep your breathing silent as you wait. Your limbs ache from how long you've been crouched in hiding, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except escaping.

The door opens and shuts. Jason quietly removes his boots and helmet, surveying the apartment like always. He sets a plastic bag on the coffee table. The smell of Thai food fills the apartment.

"Baby? Hey, I'm home. Brought your favorite takeout."

You wait until he walks by your spot behind the TV. Then you strike.

You take Jason down to the floor with a move that only works due to your element of surprise. Then you hold a dagger to his neck, the cold metal pressed flat.

Jason regards you calmly, hands at his sides. You pant furiously, pressing the blade warningly.

"Let me go," you order. "I won't be chained up like that."

"I see," he says, and the way he says it is scarily reminiscent of Batman. You keep that to yourself.

"I mean it, Jason. You can't do that. I'll—I'll call someone on you. Bruce, Clark, Dick. Somebody."

"Alright." Jason holds up his hands slowly. You watch the movement, nerves raw. "Alright. 'S okay. Just breathe. You're upset, I get that."

"I don't—I don't wanna hurt you," you say, squeezing the dagger harder. Your hand cramps in protest. "But if you make me..."

Jason nods. "Yeah, baby. I know. 'S okay. We can fix it. 'M not mad."

"Don't talk to me like that," you snap. "I'm not stupid, Jay. Not stupid."

"I know, sweetheart. I know you're not stupid. I don't think you are. Y'wanna cut me? Feel like hurtin'?" He leans into the blade, breathing steady as a river. "Go on, honey. I heal quick. You need to do it, take it out on me."

The thought of hurting Jason makes you sick. For all of his misguided protection, he hasn't hurt you. Hasn't laid a hand on you or shouted at you. Every form of restraint is as gentle as possible.

"No," you say, voice wobbly. "I-I don't wanna hurt you. Please don't make me."

Jason strokes your arm with his thumb. "No, I won't. You'll never have to hurt anybody. And I'll never let you get hurt either. 'S okay. You're safe with me. 'S me, just Jay."

Jason's hand wraps around the wrist with the knife. You stiffen, and the blade slips. A thin line of blood beads on his neck. He loosens his grip.

"Okay," he says. "Alright. You're safe."

"I don't wanna be chained," you say, tears in your eyes. "I can't be chained. I'll go fucking crazy, Jason."

"I know. I'm sorry. We don't have to do chains."

Your heart hammers in your chest. But Jason is nothing but calm. Blood sluggishly drips down his neck. Your eyes widen.

"I'm sorry," you say, reaching for his neck. "I'm sorry, Jaybird, I didn't mean—"

"I know." He catches your hand. "Shh, shh. That's okay. 'S just a scratch. It was an accident, baby, that's all."

Tears fall down your cheeks. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"I know." Jason slips the knife out of your hand. He slides it away. You collapse into his embrace.

"I can do it," you say, sobbing. "I can go out there, Jay. Please just believe me. Please trust me. You trusted me before."

Jason cradles the back of your head. He slots you between his legs and rocks back and forth. You put your arms around him. His heart is an even thump against your ear.

Finally, you've gotten through to him. Jason isn't completely gone after all.

"Don't worry," he says. "Don't worry, 's okay. It'll all be fine. I know my mistake. I'll be better. It'll be better for us."

Something pricks your neck.

Hope sinks like a rock in your stomach. You squirm, but Jason holds fast, legs trapping yours. You whale on his shoulders with your fists. He holds your biceps, expression sorrowful.

"Baby—"

"No, you promised. You promised!" you scream. "You promised me!"

"It's just to soothe your nerves, honey. Please don't—"

You lunge for the knife, ready to do some serious damage. Jason tackles you before you can. He traps you on the floor, holding you down in a full lock. He holds your arms to your sides, and your legs are pinned to the floor. It's perhaps the gentlest restraint you've ever experienced. You scream and thrash, but it's no use.

"You monster! You're no better than any of them!"

"Sorry, 'm sorry," Jason says. No matter how much you fight, his grip won't budge. You've never been a match for Jason's strength or ability.

"I hate you! You don't love me!"

"I do, I do love you." Jason rests his forehead against your spine. "Christ, your life means more than mine. I won't lose you. You're the only one who matters."

His words are muffled. Your world is going fuzzy. The drug is kicking in.

"You promised," you say weakly, wiggling in one last attempt.

Jason tucks his face into your neck as you fall unconscious.

"I'll keep you safe," he says, lips on your neck. "No matter what."

[flseur]

꒰ 𐙚 started it — suguru geto ꒱

⟡ synopsis : when you can't seem to fall asleep, it's a good thing that your boyfriend suguru can distract you!

⟡ content warning : nsfw ( 18+ ), fem!reader, kind of brat!reader and brat tamer!geto, fluff to smut, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, praising, edging, blowjob, deepthroating, overstimulation, standing missionary, standing doggy

౨ৎ note : i was going to write more to be honest but i also didn't want it to be too long because it's 2.2k words, so if anyone wants a part two let me know! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

when it rains, it pours. and nights like these, with the down pouring rain accompanied by thunder and lightning, you’ve always had a hard time trying to fall asleep.

maybe it’s your nerves, or maybe it’s just the sound of the hard droplets of water hitting the windows of your bedroom.

either way, you can’t sleep.

which is quite the opposite of your boyfriend right now.

you can make out the outline of suguru’s sleeping form in the dark, as well as hear his light snores. he had always slept better with sound, and this storm is allowing him to catch up on the rest he oh so deserved.

you sigh, sitting up from your bed and bringing up a hand to rub your eyes. at least one of you was able to sleep. 

quietly moving your comforter, you slip out of bed and try to leave the bedroom as quietly as possible then make your way into the kitchen.

while starting the kettle for a cup of chamomile tea, hoping it will help with your restlessness.

at first the only thing you were able to hear was the whistling of the tea kettle and the pitter-pattering of rain, then you heard the sound of heavy footsteps and you whip your head around to see the cause of the sound. 

“suguru? what are you doing out of bed?” you ask, thinking that you were quieter when leaving the bedroom.

“couldn’t sleep…” he yawns sleepily, walking closer to you. “heard you get out of bed.”

“oh, i’m sorry.” you rush out, turning back to pour the hot water into your tea cup. “i thought i was being quiet. you can go back to bed without me, i can’t fall asleep right now.”

not hearing a response from your boyfriend, you go to turn around to look at him. instead, you feel his arms wrapping around your waist, and his head resting on your shoulder.

“suguru? are you okay?” you ask, feeling his hair tickle your neck.

“come back to bed with me.” he mumbles against the bare skin of your shoulder, where his shirt that you were wearing sagged. his lithe fingers playing with the bottom hem of it.

you let out a light laugh at your boyfriend’s behaviour. “i’ll come to bed in a bit, okay?”

“why not now?” he pouts. 

“‘cause i can’t sleep, suguru.” you tell him. “i might work on one of my papers or something.”

“i’ll stay up with you.” he says, flipping you around. the small of your back now pressed against the granite of the countertop with his arms caging you in. 

“are you sure? you don’t have to.”

“i want to. i’ll keep you company.” he tells you.

“okay…” you respond, not entirely believing your boyfriend due to the fatigue that shows in his brown eyes.

suguru gives you a quick peck on your lips, “i promise, i’ll stay awake.”

“i believe you.” you giggle.

“no you don’t.” he kisses your temple, then the corner of your mouth, then on your neck before resting his head on your shoulder again. “you think i’m going to fall asleep.” 

“if you do fall asleep i don’t mind, honestly.” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“but i’m not going to.” suguru noses against your skin, intaking the scent of your shampoo and conditioner from the shower with him the night before.

“promise?” you ask.

“i promise.” he tells you. “i’d never leave you alone.”

“good.” you kiss his lips.

“go sit at the table,” he says. “‘m gonna make you a snack.”

“‘kay.” you reply, pouring your cup of tea before making your way over to a chair. “are you making yourself some too?”

“of course i am. woke up without my beautiful girlfriend beside me and an empty stomach.” he jokes.

“ha ha.” you reply sarcastically. “what’re you making?”

“apples.”

“apples?”

“yeah, having some sort of fruit always helps with studying,” he replies. “my mom used to do this for me in highschool.”

“that’s sweet of her to do.” 

“yeah, i appreciated it a lot back then.” he tilts his head back and looks at you. 

“thank you.” you smile at him. “i really appreciate it.”

“‘course,” he smiles back. suguru grabs the plate of sliced apples and places it down on the table in front of you. “here, make sure to eat them all. you need to energize your brain.”

you pat the chair beside you, “come and sit with me. i want you to have some too.”

suguru lets out a light chuckle before sitting down in the chair, “i don’t want to distract you…”

“it’s okay, i like being near you. besides, weren’t you hungry too?”

“okay, if you insist.” he jokes before popping one of the apple slices in his mouth. he then leans over and then pecks the side of your mouth.

suguru grabs the edge of your chair, and the wooden legs scrape against the floor as he pulls you closer to him.

“why’d you do that?” you laugh.

“just wanted to be closer to you” he replies coyly, leaning in and pressing another kiss to your lips. the act is sweet but his intentions were anything but. his soft lips press into you more, making your head spin.

just as you were about to pull away, his large hands come up to the side of your head, deepening the kiss.

suguru bites at your bottom lip before running his tongue over the stinging flesh, asking for entrance into your mouth but you pull away quickly, hoping to catch your breath.

“sugu,” you sigh his name, your forehead resting on his. “i need to work on my paper…”

and though you protest, you don’t fully mean your words because when you catch his eyes zeroing in on your lips, you find yourself leaning in for more.

suguru pulls you out of your chair by your waist, making you sit on his lap. you can feel his growing erection in his grey joggers through your sleep shorts. the harder he kisses you, his hands pressing you impossibly closer into him, the more you squirm in his lap.

suguru groans against you then pulls back, smiling slightly seeing how you chase his lips.

“shit,” he gasps, looking down at where you continue to grind against him. your flimsy cotton shorts doing nothing to hide the arousal pooling at your core. “y’can’t keep doing this to me baby, you’re driving me crazy.”

“you started this…” you reply, continuing your ministrations.

“don’t be a fucking tease.” he chokes out. “i’ll make sure nothing else comes out of that bratty mouth of yours.”

“then do it.”

and before you can get another word out, suguru has manhandled you into bending over onto the dining table and removing your sleep shorts, internally groaning about your lack of panties.

god, you looked so fucking good like this. bottom half of your body bare, your ass on display and your arousal was dripping down your inner thighs.

“stop staring and do somethin– oh…” you start then being cut off by a moan, feeling suguru’s large hands grab at your ass and his tongue slither its way to your pussy.

his wet muscle runs between your folds, circling your clit before his lips wrap around it and he begins to suck it into his mouth.

you let out a desperate moan, pushing your hips back further into his face. you didn’t want to beg for more, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’s making you feel so good.

so when you feel one of his hands leave your ass and his lithe fingers dance up your inner thighs, you bite back a small smile.

“fuck! oh m’god!” you sob as you feel him push one of his digits into your sopping cunt.

suguru smirked against your pussy, feeling your walls twitch as he pistons his fingers deeper into you. he angled his fingers to hit your g-spot, making sure to hit it with every thrust.

he could tell you were going to cum soon, your moans were becoming more high pitched and airy while your body writhed above him.

“i-i’m gonna cum… fuck! suguru–!” you cry out, ready to tip over that peak until the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you was ripped away. “what? why?”

you whip your head around, glancing over your shoulder to see the shit-eating smirk suguru was wearing on his face. “ah… i guess you really wanted to cum right?” he teases, one of his hands rubbing soft circles on the globe of your ass.

“no shit, suguru.” you groan, rolling your eyes until you feel him pull you up and turning you to face him.

“aw… m’sorry baby,” he coos at you, his hands coming up to rest on your jaw. “but brats don’t get what they want, now do they?” he says, the grip on your face tightening.

“suck my cock.” he tells you, hands moving to your shoulders to gently push you to your knees.

and you oblige, sinking to your knees and your fingers dance at the waistband of his grey joggers before rubbing him through the material.

“don’t tease.” he groans, throwing his hand back.

you begrudgingly pulls down his pants and boxers at the same time. suguru’s cock sprung out and hit below his belly button, it was flushed pink and had precum oozing from the tip.

you kitten lick the head, feeling it twitch against your tongue and tasting the saltiness.

“baby…” he moans, his breath hitching when he finally feels you wrap your pretty lips around it.

you take him as far as you can before wrapping one hand around the rest and squeezing lightly, while the other one massages his balls.

“fuuuck, so good for me…”

suguru’s hands frame the side of your head, using them to guide your spit-covered lips up and down his cock. he fucking loved it when you gave him head. always taking him as deep as you could, sputtering around his cock and swallowing every drop of cum down your throat.

and as much as suguru would like to cum down your throat right now, he’s already decided to save that for when he’s fucking the bratiness out of you.

“‘kay… baby, shit, i’m gonna cum… you gotta stop.” he warns you, but you continue on and quicken your ministrations. you take him as deep as you can, gagging around his dick and you feel it twitch in your mouth.

you knew he was going to be annoyed with you, but you continue to take him further until you finally feel the stutter of his hips, his melodic moans, and his cum down your throat.

“f-fuck! y/n!” suguru groans, his chest heaving until he pulls you off him. “you’re going to regret that.”

though the look on your face held little to no remorse. you grinned up at him, licking your lips then leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to the sensitive head of his cock.

“y’sure? i doubt that i am.” you taunt him.

next thing you knew, suguru is pistoning his thick cock into you unforgivingly, your arousal coating his length. he had you pushed up against the wall in the dining room, your legs wrapped around his waist tightly. 

you looked so beautiful. tits bouncing, tears lining the waterline of your pretty eyes and your skin was hot to the touch. his hands grabbed at the plush skin of your hips, grinding you down further on his cock and you sob at the feeling.

your nails scratched at the skin of his broad shoulders before you wrap your arms around his neck. your breasts pressed against his chest and his breath hitches as he feels your nipples brush against him.

“you about to cum, princess?” he coos at you, leaning forward to press open mouth kisses to your neck. “do it… cum on my cock, i want to feel you…”

he could feel your pussy clench around him tightly. he was hitting all of the right places in you, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you swore you seen stars.

“su-suguru! oh my fucking god! m’cumming!” as you cum, your pussy squeezed his cock impossibly tighter and your vision blurs from the intensity. 

suguru rarely gave you enough time to recover before he sets your feet to the ground and you nearly feel your legs give out. his hands grab at your hips once again, manhandling you into turning around to face the wall.

as you feel his cock sink into you, you moan out once more and you ball your fists against the wall.

“feeling alright?” he whispers in your ear, wanting to make sure you were okay before starting again.

you nod your head, mumbling a quick ‘mhm’ then try to fuck your hips back onto him.

“words, baby.” he tuts.

“yes…now move.” you say, still being able to give him attitude while being fucked out.

“still being bratty, huh?” he scoffs, thrusting up into your cunt abruptly, making you cry out. “the only thing that's going to come out of your mouth is going to be those pretty, little moans, alright?”

“yes, suguru...”

"that's my girl."

flseur © all rights reserved, do not repost, take inspo from my layouts or themes, translate, or claim as your own.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Hello!!! Can I request a sonic and shadow comforting the reader after her boyfriend broke up with her? Sonic and Shadow have feelings for the reader but whether or not they tell the reader is up to you! :) Thank you!!

A/n: I assume you meant like together, but idk.

Sonic and Shadow x reader who's bf broke up w them

It had been hours, maybe more, since the breakup. The words still echoed in your head. "This isn’t working." So simple, so emotionless. It made you question everything. Just like that? Did they ever even care?

Now you sat curled on your couch, clutching a blanket around you like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart. The TV played a random show in the background, but you weren’t watching. Instead, you just sat there sulking, replaying every moment that led up to this heartbreak.

What you didn’t expect was to hear a familiar tap-tap-tap on your window.

Sonic.

"Yo, Y/N!" Sonic’s voice rang out, cheerful as always. You turned your head, sniffling as Sonic perched on your window ledge like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Mind if I come in?"

You wiped your face quickly with your sleeve. "What are you doing here, Sonic?"

The blue hedgehog grinned, hopping into your room with practiced ease. "I could feel the gloom all the way across town. Thought I’d check in on ya." Then he paused when he got a closer look at your face, red eyes, tear-streaked cheeks. The grin faltered.

Oh.

You looked away, embarrassed. "I’m fine."

"Yeah, and I’m slow." Sonic’s tone was sarcastic as he plopped down onto the couch next to you. "C’mon, spill it. What happened?"

You hesitated. Sonic was your friend, someone who always managed to make you smile, even when you didn’t want to. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on you with genuine concern.

"My boyfriend broke up with me," you mumbled, voice shaking despite yourself. "Just... out of nowhere. I don’t even know what I did wrong..."

Sonic’s expression darkened for a split second, something uncharacteristic for him, but he covered it quickly, leaning back against the couch like he was trying to play it cool. "His loss."

You sighed. "Sure doesn’t feel like it."

"Trust me. I’ve seen a lot of losers, and this guy? He’s one of ‘em," Sonic said, pointing his thumb in a random direction like your ex was out there somewhere. "If he couldn’t see how awesome you are, then he’s well, not the brightest."

You managed a small smile at that, sniffling again. Sonic noticed and immediately grabbed a tissue box from the table, shoving it into your lap. "Here. Don’t drown the couch, ‘kay?"

"Thanks," you said weakly, dabbing at your face.

Sonic shifted a bit closer, his carefree nature dimmed by genuine concern. "Look… I know it doesn’t help much right now, but you’re gonna get through this. Breakups suck. They’re messy, and they hurt." He scratched the back of his head like he was picking his words carefully. "But you’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ll bounce back. And when you do, you’ll look back on this and realize you deserve way better."

You swallowed thickly. "It doesn’t feel like I’m strong…"

"Hey, strength isn’t about never hurting." Sonic nudged your arm lightly. "It’s about getting back up, even when it feels like you can’t. And I know you can."

The kindness in his words made your chest ache. You turned to Sonic. "Thanks... Really."

He gave you a soft smile. “Anytime, Y/N.”

Just as the moment settled, there was a knock at the door.

You blinked, confused.

Before you could move, Sonic smirked knowingly. "Oh, I know who that is."

You got up slowly, opening the door to find Shadow standing there, arms crossed, eyes sharp as ever.

"Shadow?"

"Hmph." Shadow looked you over, taking note of your puffy eyes and slumped shoulders. "You didn’t answer your phone."

You glanced back at the couch where your phone was buried under a pile of blankets. Shadow seemed to notice, stepping inside uninvited. He locked eyes with Sonic, who waved casually from the couch.

"Took you long enough, Shads," Sonic teased.

Shadow ignored him, turning his attention back to you. "What happened?"

You hesitated again. Sonic answered for you. "Her boyfriend dumped her."

Shadow’s fists clenched at his sides, but his voice remained calm. "Is that so?"

"It’s fine," you said quickly. "Really. I don’t want to talk about it anymore."

Shadow stared at you for a long moment before shaking his head. "No, it’s not fine."

You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold it together. "I just… I don’t know why it hurts so much. I feel like I wasn’t good enough."

"You are."

The conviction in Shadow’s tone startled you. He took a step closer, his usually cold demeanor softening in a way you rarely saw. "Don’t let the actions of a fool define your worth. You’re better than that."

"See?" Sonic chimed in, grinning. "At least we can both agree on something!"

Shadow shot him a glare before continuing. "Dont compare yourself with me."

You let out a shaky laugh.

"See? Thats the spirit! But you know what you need? Ice cream. And a movie marathon. I vote action movies."

"Absolutely not," Shadow countered immediately. "They needs rest, not mindless chaos."

You let out a small laugh at their bickering. "Both sound kind of nice, actually."

Sonic beamed. "That’s the spirit!"

Shadow sighed but didn’t argue. "Fine. But no ridiculous stunts."

The two of them spent the rest of the day with you, Sonic cracking jokes, Shadow keeping a careful eye on you. They didn’t leave your side, not until you were smiling again.

A/n: I think I made sonic and shadows feelings too subtle...

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss 4

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses? 💋

CHARACTERS: Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive

WORD COUNT: An average of 430 words per character.

COMMENTS: The last part of the Meaningful Kisses series. These were the four least voted characters, however, I had a lot of fun writing them.

I hope you enjoy reading it too. 😘

Meaningful Kiss (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus)

Meaningful Kiss 2 (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)

Meaningful Kiss 3 (Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia)

CONTEXT: This can be seen as if you were at the beginning of the relationship, or already in an established relationship.

Cater is into PDA for sure! He likes to be lovey-dovey and flirtatious. And especially enjoys showing it on his social media. EVERYONE knows about your relationship. You are "that" couple. Or at least that's what Cater's photos and PDA suggest.

Whenever you two are together, you are glued to each other. He will always have one or both arms around you. Especially if you are on a date. Of course, if you're not that into PDA yourself, he'll respect it, but in that case you'll have spoil him with cuddles in private, kay~?

However, this fact that Cater likes to show his feelings for you in public and on social media will end up bringing you some "hate". People saying he's only with you because your relationship is aesthetic pleasing. That you like to have coordinated clothes is just a facade for an exaggerated and false romanticism.

He gets a little sad and hurt when people say bad things about him in the relationship, like when they imply that he's just using you. But whenever an attack is directed at you, like when saying that a person like you doesn't deserve a boyfriend like him, the people pleaser side of him disappears. And he starts using his social and conversational skills to defend you, even if he has to insult the other person to do so. This is if it is IRL, which rarely happens. On social media, he just deletes the comment and blocks the person. Good vibes only.

But of course you also feel bad when you read or hear things like that. A lot of people criticize the fact that Cater only shows the good parts and that's why it's all fake. Of course he only shows the good things, that's what social media is for. He likes the popularity and all that, but, unlike certain influencers, he knows what limits are. He would never publish anything bad about you, much less humiliating like an argument or you crying. Mainly because at these times, if they happen, he will be more concerned with consulting you or making you feel better to the point of forgetting his cell phone somewhere.

This can lead to his most meaningful kisses. The ones he gives you when these things affect you, to prove that those things people say are lies and they don't know anything. When he is hugging you and saying cute and funny things to make you feel better. Everything he does in public he also does in private, including kissing your cheeks and lips. But this specific kiss is one that is exclusive to the private sector.

It's not extravagant like the ones he usually gives you, this one is soft, sensitive, and slow by his standards. Basically the opposite of what he usually shows himself to be. You feel that they are calm and that he is enjoying the moment.

Trey is not really into PDA. I mean, it's not like he's averse to it, but it's just not his thing. He is a simple man, he shows and knows how to see love in small things. That and he's not, shall we say, the flashy and extra type. Too much attention can embarrass him.

However, even though he's not much of a show-off, he thinks it's fun to mess with you in public without anyone seeing. Like kissing your cheek discreetly and casually when no one else is paying attention to you and surprising you in the process. Beside that, you continue to behave like good friends. Nothing very different from how he would treat any other friend.

In private, it often doesn't change much. Just like I said, he's a guy who likes his peace and quiet. So the two of you end up looking like a long-term couple even if you aren't yet. However, it is also in private that he feels most comfortable hugging and kissing you. He's more welcoming to you doing the same to him.

If there's one type of surprise he's a fan of, it's you hugging him from behind when he's cooking. Many of your cutest moments happen in the kitchen. He likes to have you as a tester to his food and sweets.

The problem is when he feels more naughty and takes advantage of your trust in him to use his signature spell to change the flavor of what you taste to play a trick on you. For example, you're expecting to taste the sweetness of strawberry cake, but instead you taste the saltiness of an oyster. He will laugh at your reaction and your sulky face.

Then he will apologize, without regret for what he did, and that won't be enough for you. By feeling comfortable being himself with you, you'll end up getting to know his cheekier side. He hugs you around the waist with his rare smug expression and his gaze fixed on you. He's "really sorry" but maybe he can redeem himself. He runs his thumb over your slice of cake to remove some of the icing and puts it on his own lips. Why don't you try it again? No tricks this time, he promises.

And this leads to his most meaningful kisses. Not the soft, sweet, affectionate ones he usually gives you in private, but the ones that show that sassy side of him that most people don't think exists.

It depends on Floyd’s mood, obviously. But as a general rule, he likes PDA, more giving than receiving. He likes to be in control of these things, he doesn't like to be the one being "squished", you know.

He does what he wants, if he wants to hug you, he will hug you, if he wants to kiss you, he will kiss you. And no one will even have the courage to look at him the wrong way. No one wants to get in trouble with an Octavinelle student, especially Floyd Leech. This ends up guaranteeing you instant security and a sense of immunity. Everyone will know that you are together, not in a gossip way, but more in a sense of warning other students of the danger of messing with you.

He will hug you and kiss you however he wants, whenever he is with you. This part doesn't differ much from public to private (with one or two exceptions of course, chill!) If anyone can be embarrassed by PDA here, it's you, because he's never embarrassed. If others have a problem with it, that's their problem, and if they upset him... well... let's just say it will be the first and last time.

His affection only fluctuates when he is in a bad mood, and he becomes even more unpredictable. You can never predict whether he's in an "I want to be alone" bad mood or an "I want to hug you like a stuffed animal" grumpy mood. Either way, you don't need to know because he'll tell you. When he's in a bad mood he's not one to make people guess what he wants, he'll tell them directly and specifically.

Floyd’s good-mood kisses range from casual and lazy kisses just because to passionate and cheeky kisses to mess with you. But surprisingly, his most meaningful kisses are when he's in a bad mood and wants to be with you.

Just like he secretly likes to entertain and cheer you up when you're in a bad mood, he loves that you can do the same for him. He can be very clingy when he's in "I want you to hug" grumpy mood. He likes that you let him hug and kiss you however he wants to make him feel better.

This may lead to him starting to kiss your cheeks, moving on to your neck and finally your lips. His kisses are like his mood, in this case, grumpy, but not for long. Kissing you is fun for him, so you'll start to feel the kiss change at the same time as his mood. His pout starting to change into a lazy smile. And if you're not “careful” and he ends up in a REALLY good mood...

If words of affection could be considered PDA, well, I think you know. Rook is a man of words and everyone knows it. Some even know it too well. Prepare to receive the same treatment as Vil.

Surprisingly, he's not much of a toucher. He’ll never think twice before greeting you with charming words and a tender kiss on the cheek, or on the back of your hand like a prince, but never on your lips. At least not initiated by him.

He won't take the initiative to hold your hand or hug you. He will only do so if you ask or in response to your initiative. In this case he will gently hold your hand and caress it with his thumb, or hug you gently as if you were a precious little thing.

And why? One of the reasons is because he likes it when you ask. There's something about the need for his touch that he enjoys. Luring you with words to deliberately make you fall into the “trap” of wanting his touch. And the more “difficult” you are, the more he loves it.

Another reason is that, when hunting, touching the prey is usually the last step, right after finally catching it. He's a hunter, not a pet owner. He uses words because they are his bait, physical touch is the prize. And he likes that each other's touch is as much a reward for you as it is for him. He wants to make you want him as much as he wants you.

And that's why true physical touch only happens in private. He likes to show through words how much he likes something or someone, but he is also a man of secrets, and how he enjoys the prize of having you in his arms is one of the secrets between the two of you. Especially because his touch manages to be as flattering and appreciative as his words.

He likes to run  his hands over you like someone appreciating a work of art. Kiss your neck and lips like someone savoring an exquisite delicacy. And these are his most meaningful kisses. Kisses of appreciation, of care, of passion and at a certain point, of desire, for a prize that can slip out of his hands at any moment because you have your own free will and that is exciting.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[godjustkys]

as you walk into the bathroom of the club, you are greeted by a sight of a young man, a beautiful one at that. the latter turns his head in your direction, quickly sizing you up as he leans against the sink, putting his phone in his pocket. you walk past him, clearly in no rush, though trying to keep focused. “don't you look lonely, hm?” he spoke up, eyes following your each step.

You walked to the urinal, just really wanting to take a piss. it was what you came here for in the first place. 'a potential client,' the younger thought, pushing himself off of the sink. 'i really need that fuckin' money. he looks rich too,' his eyes roamed over your back. “you and I both could use some company.”

“no thank you, I'm too old for you.” you answered nonchalantly, finishing up your business, zipping up your pants as you turned around and walked to the sink. the moment you started washing your hands, the latter broke the silence. “does that really matter?” he took a tentative step closer to you, his hands at his sides.

you spared the guy a glance, giving him a knowing look. “yes, so no.” the guy groaned in response, furrowing his brows. “you straight or somethin'?” he inquired, clearly frustrated. the more he worked, the easier it will be for his mother at home. he needed that stupid, goddamned money. you finished washing your hands, drying them off on your pants. “i do have a thing for men, don't you worry. but, men, not boys.” you said firmly, turning to face your body in his direction. “i ain't no boy. i'm a grown man, ya dickhead.” he argued, placing his hands on his hips. “c'mon, just accept the service, dude. you look hella tense, you could use the release. i promise i'd take good care of you.”

“i could use the release? really? you're saying that like you mean it out of the goodness in your heart. you just tryin' to butter me up for a better pay.” you called him out, tilting your head to the side slightly. “though maybe you're right.” you said simply. maybe you could use the release after all. being a single father was more draining that you'd expect it to be. being a father in general is exhausting. why not treat yourself just this once? even if it is given by a younger guy in a random club. the other slowly got closer to you, placing his hand on your crotch as he started palming you through your pants.

“i am doing this for money. men are nasty, the younger we are, the better they pay, the more they use.” he said, looking down at his hand. “seems like you're no different.” a smirk splayed over his lips. you leaned back, hands placed on the edge of the counter. “i figured i deserved a moment of relief. wouldn't have confided in you for that if i didn't feel bad about your desperation for money.” you retorted, tilting your head back slightly. “mm, 'kay old man, just accept that you're nasty.” he mumbled out lightheartedly, getting on his knees, his hands resting on your thighs. he looked at the bulge in your pants for a moment, debating. did he really need that extra money..

“make me feel good and i'll triple the payment of your charges.”

the moment that sentence left your mouth, all hesitation and second thoughts disappeared from the guy's head. “better keep that promise.” he said as he unzipped your pants, pulling them lower, together with your underwear. “better make it worth agreeing to your services.” you shot back, your body relaxing as your eyes fluttered closed. “aren't you feisty for an old man?” he taunted, taking your half-hard cock out. his eyes flicked from your face to your length. 'jeez.' he thought, eyes a little wide as he took in your size. “feisty? wouldn't say that's what i am, but it keeps you on your toes, doesn't it?” your voice was a lower tone now, smoother and huskier. the other didn't respond, his hand wrapping around your length as he dragged it up and down in a slow motion. “you're allowed to touch me if you want.” he muttered out, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you through his eyelashes.

“oh, am i now?” you breathed out, relishing the feeling of the younger's soft hand on your cock, his slender fingers wrapped around it. you were getting progressively harder. then you looked down at the guy, bringing your hand to the back of his head, resting your palm against it. “you wanna get started or are you gonna take your time?” you questioned, fingers lazily playing with his locks. he grumbled out a simple curse, a little unprepared but it didn't matter to him. he circled his tongue around your tip, the action teasing. his hand continued stroking you as he slowly and cautiously took you into his mouth. the feeling of his hot and wet cavern sent a small wave of heat right in your lower stomach. fuck.

he slowly started taking you deeper into his mouth, making sure to not use his teeth. he got hit in the face for that last time. you breathed out a small sigh, leaning against the sink, both of your hands now gently playing with the other's hair. to be honest, he thought you were going to push his head forward, be rough with him, but no, you were patient. you let him do this at his own pace. thinking you weren't pleased, the younger guy took all of you in, letting out quiet gag, his lips pressing to your base. “shit.” you murmured, furrowing your brows a little, the suddenness making you twitch slightly.

'oh, he liked that.' the latter thought, sucking you off now. he continuously gagged as he reached your base, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent tears spilling. you were huge, there was no doubt about that. your fingers tangled in his hair, gripping oh so lightly, it didn't even sting for him. he used his tongue in a different way that you've ever experienced, and god did that feel amazing. “just like that, yeah.. good boy,” you murmured, softly gazing down at the younger kneeling down in front of you. the two of you made eye contact for the first time since he started, and something in you sparked. a pretty boy, taking you fully, sucking you off properly, making you feel good.. you really needed that. perhaps you were going to become a returning client if he kept it up.

the younger guy quickened his pace, his hands back to your clothed thighs, gripping tighter than before, as if to ground himself as he took you in his mouth. you shifted your hips, subconsciously pushing forward a little. as a result, he groaned around you and his teeth graced your cock. the guy cursed himself out mentally at the action, prepared to either be pushed away and left without any payment or get roughed up. instead what he got was a shaky grunt from you and the feeling of you twitching in his mouth more.

it wasn't long before you came, the younger's work was exceptional. you didn't cum down his throat though, as much as you wanted to. you pulled out of course, as he was still a complete stranger to you. “i would've swallowed.” he said, his voice a little hoarse and breath heavy as he looked up at your through his eyelashes, a little frustrated. “let me fuck you and I'll give you a grand, hm?” you suggested simply as the other got to his feet. when he processed the question, he froze, looking at you slightly wide-eyed. “what?”

just a thought, not proof-read at all.

word count: 1,307