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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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puddin’ pop — kamo choso.

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, opposites attract, female! reader, not safe for work (nsfw), r-18, smut, body praise, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, pet names (puddin' pop, sweetie and others....), societal prejudice, love, overflowing cuteness, slice of life, humor, light-hearted, being in love, romantic gestures, healthy relationship, tender affection, sexual intercourse, aftercare, boyfriend – girlfriend relationship, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise and care, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of alcoholic consumption, mention of sexual intercourse, metal head bf! choso, pastel girlie! gf reader, pastel girlie gf! loves her metal head bf! choso so much, everyone if you're looking for love, make sure its as stinking cute and loving as this one, its what everyone deserves!!!;

WORD COUNT: 7.8k words.

NOTE: this entire thing was inspired by this art made by the lovely ushy on twitter!!! i was just dazzled and in love with the possibilities of who metal head bf choso could be like. i was enthralled. so, a lot of credit goes to ushy for creating such spectacular art that inspires me and others well!!! please check out ushy's art and support them too!!! anyway, this is the first time choso won the polls so im happy!!! i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

YOU LIKE THE FACT THAT YOU BOTH WERE DIFFERENT. Because it compliments you both so well, almost like yin and yang. At least that’s what Choso likes to say. And you agree with him. Choso and you couldn't be more different on the surface.

You were the pastel princess of the campus, always draped in floral skirts, baby pink cardigans, and bows in your hair. Everywhere you went, you seemed to bring a little sunshine and joy, something that stood out against the often drab college environment. People on campus often teased you, calling you a "walking cotton candy" or a "flower fairy."

Your boyfriend Choso, on the other hand, was a looming presence. Tall and muscular, his arms were covered in dark tattoos of skulls, serpents, and symbols no one dared to ask the meaning of. He wore black band shirts—Slayer being a favorite—ripped jeans, and chunky boots. His piercings glinted under the sun, and his eyeliner gave him a perpetual brooding look. Kamo Choso was the guy you didn’t approach unless you had to.

And because of this, people always wondered how you two could possibly be together. You couldn’t have been anymore from different worlds, galaxies entirely. Whispers never failed to follow you both wherever you went on campus, speculating that you must be too sweet for him or that he was just putting on an act. No one could see how you fit until today. And if you were being honest, you could care less about their invalid opinions.

Today was Choso’s concert with his metal band, and you hadn’t seen each other all day due to classes. And you can tell that it was already getting to you. It was fine to text him and all, but you like having your boyfriend around. You like holding him and kissing his cheeks. And he was warm. And it was getting colder. As you stood chatting with some friends outside the student union, the heads started to turn.

“Is that Choso?” one of your friends whispered, wide-eyed.

You turned, and there he was, his black combat boots stomping across the quad toward you. Your face flushed, your eyes bright eyed. Your lips peaked into a smile. But you noticed the look on his face and you couldn’t help but blink.

His face was still set in that familiar grimace that made people nervous, but you could tell immediately something was different. His hands were hidden behind his back, and his eyes flicked to the ground every few steps, like he was nervous.

“Hey, sweetie.” Choso said, his voice a soft contrast to his intimidating appearance. You could feel people watching you both, but Choso didn’t seem to notice. He reached behind him and pulled out a black band T-shirt—one with a matching Slayer skull logo to the one he was wearing.

“Uh, I was wondering if you... y’know, wanted to match tonight?” he asked, his face flushing red under the tattoos. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, as if he wasn’t the lead guitarist of one of the loudest, most intense bands on campus. He was just your beloved boyfriend Choso, looking like a shy boy asking for a favor.

There was a moment of stunned silence from the people around you. You could feel their confusion, the gears in their heads turning as they tried to reconcile the image of the “scary goth guy” with the one standing before you, blushing and fumbling over his words.

You giggled, clicking heels as you stepped closer and took the shirt from him. “Of course, babe! I’d love to match with you tonight.” You leaned up to kiss his cheek, making his blush deepen as a soft, content smile spread across his face. “I’m thankful you thought of me at all, babe. Thank you so much.”

“I always think of you a lot, sweetie.” He says to you in reply, which only made you swoon even more as you let your body embrace his own as you squealed about how much you loved him. And he smiled, as though the world was the most beautiful place.

That was when everyone seemed to get it. They saw the way Kamo Choso looked at you like you were the most precious thing in his world, how gentle he was with you despite his intimidating exterior. They realized that underneath all the black clothes, makeup, and tattoos, he was a gentle giant—soft, sweet, and completely devoted.

The campus finally understood why you worked. And yet all at once in the same breath, still not understand it at all. But you could hardly care.

As you slipped into the matching shirt, a wave of excitement ran through you. The black Slayer logo against your usual pastel aesthetic was jarring, but you loved the idea of supporting Choso in his world. Even if metal concerts weren’t your usual scene, being there for him made it all worth it.

You walked hand in hand toward the venue where his band would be performing later that evening. You enjoyed having his fingers intertwined with yours and his skin rubbing against you. You looked at him and grinned, which he returned. You both just enjoyed each other’s company, no matter what. Well, that’s what happens when you’re each other’s world.

Onlookers still stared, trying to wrap their heads around how the “campus goth king” and the “girly sunshine queen” made sense together. It wasn’t long before one of your friends caught up with you, curiosity bubbling over.

“Okay, I have to ask. How does this even work?” she asked, her eyes bouncing between Choso’s heavy chains and your flower-printed purse. “You guys are, like, total opposites.”

Choso chuckled softly, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. You smiled up at your beloved boyfriend, feeling the warmth in his gaze before answering. You didn’t even want to stop looking at him. Your boyfriend was the prettiest, loveliest boy you ever laid eyes on. And everytime you looked at him, you just fell more deeply in love.

“Well, it’s pretty simple, really.” you started, glancing at him for confirmation. He nodded for you to continue. “We balance each other. He’s got this tough look and I’m more on the bright and bubbly side, but it’s what’s inside that really matters.”

Choso squeezed your hand and added, “She brings me a lot of peace. People think I’m all dark and broody, but if there was any color in me, its my sweetie, here. She’s the one who helps me stay grounded. And honestly, I don’t think I’d ever smile this much without her.” His eyes softened as he spoke, showing a rare vulnerability. “I just….love my sweetie, you know?”

Your friend’s expression shifted from confusion to understanding, the pieces falling into place. “That’s actually... really sweet.” she admitted, looking at Choso with a bit less intimidation and a lot more curiosity. “I guess it’s just surprising because you both seem so different on the outside.”

You laughed, nudging Choso playfully. “Well, I’ve always believed it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right?”

Choso smiled shyly, looking a little embarrassed but happy. “Yeah, and we love each other. Doesn’t matter if we’re all black or pastels. We’re happy together. That’s it.”

By now, more people around you were starting to take notice, seeing the softer side of Choso they’d probably never expected. It became clear to everyone that your differences weren’t a problem—they were the reason you worked so well together. You could be the sunshine in his life, and he could be the calm, steady presence in yours.

As you approached the venue together, You could see that Choso’s bandmates were setting up the stage. They were all dressed in their usual dark, edgy attire, but they greeted you with warmth and fondness. It’s been like this for as long as you remember. They’re really the nicest people you know. And you’re happy because it means your boyfriend will always be surrounded with good people. And because of that, you would be too.

“Looking good in that shirt!” one of the band members teased, smirking at Choso as if to say, You really got her to match you, huh?

Choso grinned sheepishly, clearly proud but trying to play it cool. “Yeah, well, she’s supporting us tonight. Best girlfriend ever, right?”

You giggled and nodded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Only for you, my baby.”

Before the show started, you found your place in the crowd. It was always the same one. Choso alway insisted that you always be near him as possible to not only make sure he knows you were safe — but so he can always see you and wink at you. And then you would blow back a kiss each and every time. It’s your boyfriend’s favorite part of the show.

You take a sip of your drink. People smiled at you and greeted you. You were a regular at the shows already. But it was always surreal being surrounded by people dressed in all black, while you, with your pastel skirt peeking out from under the band shirt, stood out like a daisy in a field of midnight roses. And all of them were happy to see you there too. Choso’s shows were always such a happy, safe space for you.

But as the music started, something magical happened.

The moment the first riff tore through the air, it was as though Kamo Choso transformed before your eyes. His quiet, reserved demeanor melted away, replaced by an electrifying energy that radiated from the stage. The powerful riffs and heavy beats pulsed through the venue, reverberating in your chest, and you could feel the intensity of every chord he struck. His hands, the same ones that were always so soft and tender when they held you, moved with precision and power across the strings, commanding the music with effortless grace.

Despite the raw energy of the performance, there was something oddly calming about watching him like this. Seeing him completely in his element, doing what he loved with such passion, brought you a quiet sense of pride.

Every note, every beat, seemed to echo the essence of who he was—fierce, strong, but also thoughtful and deeply connected to his art. And in that moment, it became clear just how much of himself he poured into his music. You could tell that the stage was where he felt most free, and watching him there made your heart swell.

As the concert progressed, the crowd was fully immersed in the music, their energy feeding off Choso’s commanding presence. But every now and then, amidst the chaos, his eyes would seek you out.

Between songs, during brief moments of stillness, he'd glance over in your direction, his gaze softening when he found you in the crowd. It was his silent way of making sure you were okay, that you were enjoying the show, and it warmed your heart to know that even in the middle of performing, he was still thinking of you.

And then, you noticed the shift in the crowd.

People started glancing between the two of you—first at Choso, then at you, as if they were piecing together something they hadn’t quite understood before. They saw the way he’d search for you with his eyes, the subtle smile that would tug at his lips when he spotted you. They saw how your face lit up, your cheers louder than anyone else's, a beacon of support and pride for him to latch onto.

It was as if, in that moment, the connection between the two of you was undeniable. The bond you shared became as visible as the music that surrounded you, a harmony of its own. Choso’s fans, who had admired him for his talent and stage presence, were now witnessing a softer side of him—a side that belonged solely to you. The glances from the crowd turned from curiosity to understanding, like they finally saw the deeper layers of the person who held their admiration.

And as the music swelled and the concert reached its climax, you could feel it too: the unspoken love that bridged the gap between the stage and the audience, a love that was yours and his, seen in every stolen glance, heard in every note. In that moment, it was as if the whole room was in tune with the rhythm of your connection, an energy that transcended the music itself.

When the final song came to an end, Kamo Choso walked over to the edge of the stage, still holding his guitar, and mouthed, “I love you.”

Your heart swelled as you mouthed it back, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. You just love him so much, and it made you the happiest person alive.

After the show, a few students from campus came up to you both, clearly still surprised but now more accepting of your relationship. One girl, who you recognized from your sociology class, shyly approached you.

“You two are actually kind of... adorable together, you know?” she admitted. “I didn’t get it at first, but seeing you both... it makes sense now.”

You smiled, giving her a nod of appreciation. “Thanks. We may seem like opposites, but we’re perfect for each other.”

As you and Choso headed home later that night, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in how you’d shown everyone that love doesn’t have to look a certain way. It doesn’t matter if you’re a pastel-wearing girly girl or a tattooed metalhead. Love is about finding someone who understands you, who balances you, and who makes your life better just by being in it.

And that’s exactly what you and Choso had—something perfectly imperfect, something that made sense in all the ways that really mattered.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AFTER CLASSES SEPARATED YOU BOTH, YOU FINALLY CAME TOGETHER. You haven’t seen Choso since he got stuck for his violin recitals, so you were bored. It’s not like you weren’t doing anything in fashion classes, but you wanted to see him.

He was your energy boost. Just as much, he was your happy pill. And with a deadlock with your project, you needed to see him to freshen up. So, he finally had free time, he told you he’d come see you.

That’s also how you and Choso decided to go on a date, something simple yet special—just the two of you wandering through the city, hand in hand, without a care in the world. You were dressed in your usual soft pastels, a baby blue sundress fluttering around your legs as you walked, while Choso, in stark contrast, wore his typical all-black outfit. His band tee hung loosely over his broad frame, and his boots clunked with each step beside you.

As you entered the small café, people couldn’t help but glance in your direction, eyes widening at the sight of the unexpected pair. You were the picture of sweetness, like something out of a fairytale, while Choso looked like he just stepped off the stage of a rock concert. The two of you couldn’t be more different visually, yet anyone who took a closer look could see the way your fingers intertwined so naturally, how Choso’s eyes softened every time you spoke.

You found a cozy corner booth, and as you sat down, Choso immediately slid into the seat beside you rather than across from you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, and you smiled up at him, already feeling the warmth of his presence.

“What do you want, puddin’ pop?” you asked sweetly, your voice loud enough to catch the attention of the café staff nearby. The barista paused mid-order, eyes darting toward Choso, as if unsure she heard you right.

Choso, the ever-serious and brooding figure, glanced down at you with a soft chuckle, his fingers tracing light circles on your arm. “Whatever you’re getting is fine, babe.” he murmured, his tough exterior melting away completely in your presence.

The barista, clearly stunned by the interaction, couldn’t hold back her curiosity when she came to take your order. “You two… are so cute together!” she said, hesitantly at first. “I mean, I never would’ve guessed, but… it works!”

You laughed, used to the surprise reactions by now. “Thank you! Yeah, we get that a lot.”

The barista smiled, her nerves relaxing as she took your order. As she left, you turned back to Choso, your grin wide and playful. “See? Even she thinks you’re sweet, puddin’ pop.”

Choso rolled his eyes good-naturedly, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed how much he loved the nickname. “You and that nickname…” he muttered, but the smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t mind one bit.

“Well, you are my puddin’ pop, aren’t you?” you teased, leaning into his side. “You’re like pudding—soft and sweet—and a lollipop, ‘cause you’re a treat.”

Choso groaned playfully, covering his face with his free hand as if embarrassed, but the warmth in his voice gave him away. “You’re gonna make me lose all my street cred, you know that?”

You giggled, giving him a peck on the cheek. “You’ll always be the cool goth guy to everyone else, but you’re my sweet puddin’ pop.”

As the two of you enjoyed your time together, sipping on drinks and sharing pastries, people in the café couldn’t stop sneaking glances. They saw the stark differences in your appearance but couldn’t deny the undeniable connection between you.

Choso’s tough exterior was all but gone when he was with you, replaced with soft smiles and gentle touches. To them, it was unexpected, but to you, it was perfectly normal. Choso, for all his darkness and edge, was the sweetest person you’d ever met, and he showed it in every little way.

But that didn’t bother you. You and your beloved boyfriend continued to talk about things that interest the two of you. Recently, he told you about his progress in some violin concertos and you told him about your progress on your final project for the design class you were in. The world was an echo when your Choso was talking, after all.

As you left the café hand in hand, Choso gave you a loving glance. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?” he asked, his voice quieter now, like it was just meant for your ears.

You smiled up at him, heart fluttering. “I know. And that’s why you’ll always be my puddin’ pop.”

And as the two of you strolled through the city, the sight of the goth guy and the pastel princess, people couldn’t help but admire how well you fit together. You were a perfect, unexpected match—proof that love doesn’t have to look a certain way.

As you and Choso wandered through the city, you could feel the occasional glances from passersby, but by now, you were so used to it that you didn’t even pay them any mind. Choso, however, always kept his guard up just a little, glancing sideways at anyone who looked too long. Not out of annoyance, but more out of protectiveness. Even though he was soft with you, he still liked to make sure no one thought they could mess with his sunshine.

You led him into a little boutique that had caught your eye, one filled with pastel-colored dresses, accessories, and things that practically screamed “you.” As soon as you walked in, you heard a small group of girls gasp near the entrance. You caught a snippet of their whispered conversation:

“Oh my God, is that him? The goth guy from campus?”

“Wait, that’s his girlfriend? I didn’t know they were actually dating. They’re so... different!”

“But look how cute they are together!”

You giggled softly, squeezing Choso’s hand as he rolled his eyes, his face slightly red from the attention. He wasn’t much for the spotlight when it came to your relationship, but it was hard to avoid it when everyone seemed so fascinated by the contrast between you two.

As you browsed through the racks, you couldn’t help but pull out a pastel pink sweater with tiny hearts embroidered on it. “This is so cute!” you exclaimed, holding it up for Choso to see.

He gave it a look, raising an eyebrow. “It’s… definitely you, sweetie.” he said with a smirk, though his tone was affectionate.

“Of course it is! What do you think, puddin’ pop? Would you wear it if I bought a matching one for us?”

Choso let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, no. I’ll stick with my black, sweetie. Thank you though."

You pouted playfully, nudging him. “Come on, just once? For me?”

Choso softened, and you could see the internal battle playing out on his face. You knew he’d do anything to make you happy, even if it meant stepping way out of his comfort zone. “Alright, fine sweetie.” he relented, sighing dramatically. “But only because you’re cute.”

Your eyes lit up, and you threw your arms around him in a quick hug. “You’re the best!”

The girl at the counter couldn’t stop staring as you and Choso approached to pay. She looked completely bewildered, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “I—I love your outfits….” she stammered, scanning the pastel sweater. “You two are really… um, adorable.”

Choso, clearly flustered, mumbled a quiet “Thanks!” while you beamed and responded. “Aren’t we? He’s my sweet puddin’ pop, after all.”

The cashier blinked in surprise, probably not expecting the goth guy who looked like he belonged in a metal band to be called something so cute. But as she handed you the bag, you caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It was as if she’d just witnessed a secret that made perfect sense in some strange way.

After leaving the boutique, Choso let out a deep breath, clearly relieved to be out of the spotlight. “I can’t believe you convinced me to get a pink sweater.”

You giggled, taking his arm and leaning your head against it. “You’re gonna look so cute, though! I’ll take a picture of us together and keep it forever.”

Choso groaned, but there was a smile on his face as he shook his head. “Only for you. I swear, you’ve turned me into a complete softie, sweetie.”

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “But you’ve always been a softie. You’re just finally admitting it.”

He gave a soft, resigned laugh. “Yeah, yeah… whatever you say.”

The two of you continued your walk, eventually ending up at your favorite park. As you found a bench to sit on, the sun began to set, casting a golden glow across the trees and flowers. It was quiet and peaceful, and you felt Choso’s arm wrap around your shoulders again, pulling you close.

For a moment, everything was perfect. You didn’t care about the stares or the whispers or the way people seemed to be so fascinated by the two of you. All that mattered was how you felt when you were with him—like the world was a little brighter, a little softer.

You glanced up at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. “You know, no matter how many people are surprised by us, I still think we’re perfect together.”

Choso smiled down at you, his eyes filled with a warmth that only you got to see. “I know. I wouldn’t trade this for anything, sweetie.”

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, content in your own little world where opposites didn’t just attract—they completed each other.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

YOU HAD FREE TIME, AND HE DID TOO. So, it was just right for him to come by and cuddle with you. It was a quiet evening when Kamo Choso walked into your apartment, his usual black boots clunking against the hardwood floor as he made his way to where you were curled up on the couch. You looked up from your book and smiled when you saw him, your pastel-colored socks contrasting with the dark, brooding aura he carried everywhere.

"Hey, puddin' pop." you greeted sweetly, holding your arms out for him.

Choso's lips twitched into a soft smile as he walked over to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. He settled beside you, his arm casually draping around your shoulders as you snuggled into his side. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in comfortable silence, but you could tell there was something on his mind.

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, running his hand through his messy hair. “Hey… so, I, uh… I wrote a new song, sweetie.” he started, his deep voice a little unsure.

You sat up, instantly interested. “Really? That’s amazing! What’s it about?”

His eyes darted away for a second, the usual confidence he exuded seeming to falter as his cheeks tinted pink. “Well… it’s about you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart doing a little flip at his words. “Me? You wrote a song about me?”

He nodded, clearly trying to play it cool, but you could see the faint blush creeping up his neck. “Yeah, I mean… I’ve been working on it for a while. It’s for the band. I wasn’t sure if you’d be into it, though, since, you know, you’re not really big on metal.”

Your heart practically melted at his bashful tone. Choso, the brooding goth guy who looked like he could crush someone with a glance, had written a song about you? It was like every romantic dream you never knew you had was suddenly real.

“Oh my gosh, puddin’ pop!” you squealed, your hands grabbing his arm in excitement. “I want to hear it! I don’t care if it’s metal, I’ll love it just because it’s from you!”

He chuckled, a little nervous but clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. “Are you sure? It’s kinda heavy, sweetie…”

You practically jumped up from the couch, tugging him along with you. “I’m sure! Come on, I need to hear this!”

Choso laughed as you dragged him to his guitar, which he had brought over for practice. He picked it up, settling it on his lap as you sat back down, eagerly waiting for him to start. The way your eyes sparkled made his heart swell with affection. He strummed a few notes, tuning the strings before looking at you with a small smile.

“Alright, sweetie….” he said softly, his voice gentle in contrast to the deep rumble of the guitar. “Just… keep an open mind, okay?”

You nodded eagerly, clasping your hands together as if you were about to witness the performance of a lifetime. Your eyes were shining brighter than ever before. Your face was focused on him, awestruck already. It’s as if you had decided that it was already the best song in the world (which to you, it was.)

Choso took a deep breath before he started playing, the guitar riff heavy and intense, but there was a surprising tenderness woven into the melody. It was raw, powerful, but there was an undercurrent of emotion that made your chest tighten.

He began to sing, his voice low and gravelly, but the lyrics were… beautiful. They spoke of love, of safety, of someone who brought light into his dark world. Each word made your heart race faster as you realized just how deeply his love for you had inspired every note, every line.

Even though you weren’t as big into metal music as he was, you could feel the emotion behind each chord. It was him, pouring his heart into the music in a way only he could. You watched him, completely enraptured, as he sang about how you made him feel—how you were his bright spot, his calm amidst the storm.

When he finished, there was a brief silence, the air between you both charged with emotion. He glanced up at you, a little hesitant, waiting for your reaction. “So… what do you think, sweetie?” he asked quietly, his tough exterior cracking just a little as his vulnerability showed.

You didn’t even know how to put your feelings into words, so you did the only thing you could think of. You launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Oh my sweet sweet puddin’ pop! That was beautiful! Oh my God, I can’t believe you wrote that for me! I love it, I love you!”

Choso’s arms wrapped around you instinctively, his deep chuckle vibrating through his chest as he held you close. “You really liked it? Even though it’s, you know… metal?”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, your smile wide and full of love. “It doesn’t matter what genre it is! You put your heart into it, and I could feel it. It was perfect.”

Choso’s smile softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, his hand cradling the back of your head. “I’m glad. I just… wanted you to know how much you mean to me. You’re everything, you know?”

You felt your heart swell, your love for him overflowing. “You’re everything to me too, puddin’ pop. I can’t believe you wrote me a song,” you gushed, still in awe of how deeply his love for you translated into everything he did.

Choso blushed again, clearly not used to being fawned over like this. “Well… you inspire me, sweetie.” he mumbled, his voice gruff but full of affection. “Always.”

You grinned, resting your head against his shoulder as he held you close. “I’ll always be your biggest fan, no matter what. Even if I’m not the biggest metalhead.”

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your hair. “That’s all I need.”

You stayed wrapped in Choso's arms for a while, the warmth of the moment lingering between the two of you. His heart was still pounding against your cheek, and it was clear that even for someone as stoic as him, sharing the song with you had meant the world.

"I can't believe you were nervous about showing me that, hm?" you whispered, tracing little circles on his chest. "It was so beautiful. The way you turned your love into music... you’re amazing, puddin’ pop."

Choso let out a soft, almost bashful chuckle. “Yeah, well… it’s easier to play it in front of a crowd than just for you. I wanted it to be perfect, sweetie.”

Your heart melted at his honesty, and you squeezed him a little tighter. "It was perfect. And it just makes me love you more."

Choso smiled softly, the tough-guy act completely dropped as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “Good.” he said quietly. “Because I’ll probably write a dozen more songs about you.”

You laughed, your cheeks flushed with warmth. "Promise?" you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“Promise, sweetie.” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, slow and tender.

There was something about Choso’s kisses that always made you feel like the world had stopped for just a second—like the two of you were the only ones who existed. And in moments like this, it didn’t matter if you didn’t share his love for metal music or if your pastel wardrobe clashed with his dark, edgy style.

When the kiss ended, you both settled back on the couch, with Choso resting his guitar against the wall. You nestled into his side, your fingers laced together. The silence between you was comfortable, but you could tell there was still something on his mind.

“I’m thinking about playing it at our next gig, sweetie.” he finally said, glancing down at you. “I’d want you there… if you’re up for it.”

Your eyes widened with excitement. “You want me there when you play it? Of course, I’d love to be there!”

Choso looked relieved by your enthusiasm, though there was still a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “It’ll be loud, though. Probably going to be louder than our last gig since it’s with other metal bands.”

You grinned, nudging him gently. “I’ll bring earplugs, don’t worry. But I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I want to be there when you play our song, you know?”

Choso’s gaze softened, and he squeezed your hand. “You don’t know how much that means to me, sweetie. It’ll be the first time I’ve played a song that personal.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Well, now it’s personal to me too. I’ll be there, cheering you on in my pastel outfit, and I’ll make sure everyone knows I’m the one you’re singing about."

He chuckled, imagining the sight of you in the crowd, all sweetness and sunshine, while his band rocked out on stage. “You’ll definitely stand out, sweetie.” he said with a teasing smirk.

“Good! I want everyone to know I’m your biggest fan, puddin’ pop!” you replied with a grin.

Choso kissed the top of your head, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand. “You always have been.”

The rest of the night was spent in quiet contentment. You stayed wrapped up in each other, talking about his band, the upcoming concert, and the thought of hearing your song live for the first time. Choso shared little stories from his rehearsals, his voice full of excitement whenever he mentioned the moment he’d finally reveal the song to the audience—and to you.

“I’m already planning my outfit!” you joked, imagining what you’d wear to one of his gigs. “Something cute but not too out of place.”

Choso laughed, pulling you closer. “Wear whatever you want. I’ll be proud to have you there, no matter what.”

You looked up at him, your eyes full of love. “I’ll be there in the front row, cheering for you. And afterward, we’ll celebrate with a giant lollipop, since, you know, you’re my puddin’ pop.”

Choso groaned, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red, but the smile on his face didn’t fade. “You’re never gonna let that nickname go, are you?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Never. It’s part of the deal.”

He rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his voice was undeniable. “I guess I can live with it… as long as you keep being my inspiration.”

And with that, the two of you fell into a peaceful silence again, your hearts full of love. As the night continued, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were. Choso might’ve been tough on the outside, but underneath all of that was the sweetest, most caring person you’d ever met. And now, knowing he’d written a song about you, you felt even closer to him than ever before.

No matter how different you seemed on the outside, Choso’s love for you translated into everything he did—from his quiet moments with you to the powerful music he created. It was all a reflection of the way he saw you, and it made you fall even deeper in love with your sweet, tough, and tender-hearted puddin’ pop.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

IT’S BEEN A WHILE FOR BOTH OF YOU SINCE ITS FINAL WEEK. Your metalhead boyfriend Choso finally arrives at your dorm, his presence immediately filling the room with warmth. He steps in close, his strong hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. His breath is warm on your skin as he leans down, his lips softly grazing the sensitive area around your ear.

"Want to do it, sweetie?" he murmurs, his voice husky, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his lips because he knows your answer already. “I missed you….”

“I missed you too, puddin’ pop.” You whispered back, a sly smile on your lips. Your eyes lustfully gazing back at him. “So so so much….”

“Just how much, sweetie?”

“A lot.” You whispered as your fingers trailed onto your thighs and a little bit lower. Choso was already sure what he’d find down there. He knows you too well. His little sweetie. “Help me, puddin’ pop. I need you.”

As soon as you give him the slightest confirmation, he effortlessly scoops you up, cradling you in his arms like you weigh nothing. His lips never leave your skin as he walks you towards the bedroom, each kiss a little more insistent, a little more needy. Between the kisses, he leans in close to your ear, whispering the dirtiest, most wicked things, his words making your skin tingle.

As Choso carries you, his lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of heat with every kiss. His grip tightens slightly around your waist, the tension building with each step toward the bedroom. The way he whispers into your ear, voice low and raspy, sends shivers through your entire body. His words are teasing, laced with promises that make your mind race, each one more wicked than the last.

He lays you down gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours, eyes dark with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. His hands roam your body, slow and deliberate, as if savoring every moment, every inch of your skin. His kisses grow deeper, his whispers more urgent, as his desire for you becomes undeniable.

"You're mine tonight, sweetie." he breathes, his voice thick with lust.

You smiled. “I always was, puddin’ pop.”

Choso’s lips crash against yours, the intensity building as his hands explore your body with purpose, claiming every inch of you. His touch is firm yet careful, as though he’s memorizing the way you react to each kiss, each graze of his fingertips. His words, laced with that rough edge, never stop.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day, sweetie.” he mutters between kisses, his breath hot against your skin as he trails his lips back down to your neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

He pins your wrists gently above your head, holding you in place, his eyes locking onto yours with a burning intensity. He leans down again, his lips brushing your ear as he growls softly, “I want to hear you say my name… over and over.”

His words send a rush of heat through your body as he lowers himself, every movement slow, teasing, deliberate, until the anticipation becomes almost unbearable. The room feels electric, the air between you charged with desire, as he continues to whisper the dirtiest, most enticing things.

Choso’s hands slide down your arms, his grip firm yet tender as he keeps you pinned beneath him. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss before trailing back to your neck, down to your collarbone, teasing with every move. The way he takes his time with you, savoring each reaction, has you breathless.

"You're so perfect for me, sweetie." he whispers, his voice thick with lust and affection. "I love watching you like this."

His hands move lower, fingers tracing your sides, sending shivers down your spine as he leans in closer, his body pressing against yours. He kisses you deeply again, the kind of kiss that makes your head spin, before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

“I’m not stopping until you’re completely mine tonight, sweetie.” he growls softly, his words dripping with intensity. The way he says it sends a rush of anticipation through your entire body, making you ache for his touch even more.

Without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself further, his kisses moving lower, trailing heat in their wake. Every touch, every word leaves you feeling completely consumed by him, the world around you fading away until it's just you and him, tangled together in this moment that feels both endless and electrifying.

Choso’s kisses become more intense, his pace deliberate yet teasing, as if he’s relishing the control he has over every inch of your body. His hands trace slow, burning paths along your skin, each touch igniting a fire inside you. He knows exactly how to make you melt beneath him, every movement calculated yet filled with raw passion.

He leans back up, his eyes locking onto yours, dark with desire. "I love how you react to me, sweetie." he murmurs, voice dripping with a mix of dominance and affection. "The way your body responds... it drives me wild."

His fingers trail lightly across your chest before grabbing hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, his breath ragged with anticipation. His lips return to your ear, teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin as he whispers, "You're going to scream my name tonight."

The way he says it sends shockwaves through your body, the desire in his voice leaving you aching for more. His hands grip you tighter as he kisses you deeply, his passion consuming you entirely. Every whispered promise, every soft growl, every lingering touch leaves you yearning for more, completely lost in the moment, knowing he’s not letting up until you’re both completely spent.

"You’re mine, just mine." he growls, his voice low and possessive, making it clear that he’s going to fulfill every wicked promise he’s made tonight.

Choso’s lips crash against yours once more, each kiss more urgent and consuming, as if he’s claiming you entirely. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding your body beneath his, the heat between you growing unbearable. The intensity in his eyes makes your breath catch, his gaze full of need, raw desire, and something deeper — a craving that goes beyond the physical.

He presses his body closer, his breath hot against your skin as he continues to whisper the dirtiest, most intimate words in your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You don’t know how much I need you right now, god…..” he murmurs, his words laced with desperation and control.

His touch becomes rougher, more insistent, as he moves in rhythm with the tension building between you. Every kiss, every graze of his fingertips, pulls you deeper into the moment, making you forget everything else. It’s just you and him, the weight of his body pressing down on you, the way his voice rasps your name in between breaths, each sound sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Say my name, sweetie." he growls, his voice husky, lips hovering near your ear. "I want to hear it. I want to hear how much you need me."

“Cho, cho—” You choked in pleasure as he continued to find him satiating you with pleasure over and over. “Baby, p–puddin’ pop. Please. Oh—”

You feel yourself slipping, losing control as his words become more possessive, each touch pushing you closer to the edge. The room feels smaller, the air heavy with heat and desire as Choso claims you again and again, each time more intense than the last.

And just as you think you can’t take any more, he leans down, his lips brushing your skin as he whispers, “You’re mine. Only mine. Sweetie, you know that right?” His words linger in the air, echoing through the haze of pleasure that surrounds you both, sealing the night with a promise only the two of you can understand.

“I do, I do.” You moaned out in a frenzy. “Baby, my puddin’ pop, I do. O–only, uh…only yours!”

Choso’s pace quickens, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as if he’s on the verge of losing control himself. His grip tightens around your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you closer, the weight of his body grounding you while pushing you to the edge of sensation. His lips are everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, your lips—claiming you with every kiss, every touch.

Your breaths come in ragged gasps as the tension builds between you, the heat reaching an unbearable peak. He groans softly, his voice thick with need as he whispers, "I’m right there with you... just let go for me." His words are a command and a plea all at once, and the sound of his voice is enough to push you to the brink.

With a final, shuddering thrust, the world around you seems to fall away, the pressure inside you finally releasing in a wave of pure ecstasy. Choso’s name tumbles from your lips, over and over, exactly the way he wanted. His own breath hitches as he follows you into that climax, a deep, guttural groan escaping his throat as his body tenses against yours, the pleasure overwhelming him too.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and ragged against your skin as he rides out the last waves of pleasure, holding you tightly as if he never wants to let go. His fingers gently stroke your skin now, soft and soothing in contrast to the intense passion you just shared.

For a moment, everything is quiet, just the sound of your mingled breathing filling the room, the intensity of the moment settling into a soft, shared intimacy. Choso presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice a low whisper as he says, “You’re everything I need, sweetie.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. epilogue

As the intensity fades and the world starts to come back into focus, Kamo Choso gently eases himself beside you, his arms never leaving your body. His expression softens, all the hunger and fire replaced with tenderness as he looks at you, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek.

"You did so good, sweetie." he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch is slow, deliberate, as he strokes your hair, helping you come down from the high. He wraps the blanket around both of you, pulling you into his chest, his body warm and comforting against yours.

He reaches for a water bottle on your bedside table, offering it to you with a small smile. "Drink up, hm?" he says gently, knowing how much you need it. After you take a sip, he tenderly kisses your temple, his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back.

The atmosphere shifts into something soft and intimate, his hands carefully massaging your sore muscles, making sure you feel cared for. His voice is low, murmuring sweet reassurances, "I've got you… I’ll take care of you."

Once he's satisfied that you're comfortable, Choso shifts so you're nestled in his arms, your head resting on his chest. He stays close, his fingers gently stroking through your hair, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. There's a certain peace in the quiet moments after everything, and you feel completely safe with him, wrapped up in his warmth.

"You know I’m not going anywhere tonight, right?" he says softly, his voice laced with affection. He leans down to kiss the top of your head, his arms tightening around you protectively. "I’ll be here, all night, right next to you."

The two of you lie there, tangled in each other, as the night settles around you. The outside world doesn’t matter anymore—just the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

As sleep starts to pull you in, Choso whispers, “I love you, sweetie.” his voice barely audible but filled with sincerity. And in that moment, everything feels perfect, knowing he’ll be right there when you wake up. Your beloved metalhead boyfriend.

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luvrrszn · 8 days ago

Text

know no bounds

STANFORD!ART DONALDSON x STANDFORD! FEM READER x STANDFORD!PATRICK ZWEIG (18+)

summary your two best friends have zero boundaries—especially when it comes to you

warnings slight nsfw (smut), erm probably a shit ton of challengers inaccuracies, art and patrick r not in love !!!!!!!!!!@#!@#!@

a/n art and patrick are not in love !! there's nothing wrong with two hot people kissing and doing the hankypanky every now and then...right... also there is like little to no mention of tashi for my sanity while writing this also i'm trying out writing with proper capitalisation let's see how it goes lolsies ALSO plzzzz send requests loveya

masterlist

You spend most of your free time with your best friends.

Hanging out in their dorm, or doing your homework in the stands while they had tennis practice.

Wherever they were, you were never far. (more like wherever YOU were, they weren't far......)

There are traces of you everywhere and traces of them everywhere. In your dorm room, your corkboard frame has several pictures of the three of you, and half of your clothes drawers are comprised of Art and Patrick's t-shirts. For some reason, you even have some of Art's textbooks at your table. In their dorm room, your hair ties are everywhere. On the bathroom sink counter, on Art's nightstand, even on Patrick's wrist.

Because the three of you were so close, your bond knew no bounds. or no boundaries.

—

It wasn't unusual for you to hang out in Art and Patrick's dorm room even when they weren't there.

So, it was only natural that when the AC in your dorm room was busted, and the heat was unbearable, you used the spare key they had given you to let yourself into their room. You were sprawled on Art's bed, books open as you finished up your assignment due that week.

At some point, you got stuck on your work. You groaned in frustration, deciding to take a shower and hope that you'd be able to continue once you were done.

And that's exactly what you did. You rifled around Art's drawers of clothes, looking for the comfiest-looking shirt. You beelined towards the bathroom once you finally decided what shirt to wear. You strip, leaving your clothes in a messy, yet neat, pile on the floor.

Humming, you draw the shower curtain shut, and as soon as the hot water hits your back, your entire body relaxes. You reach for your shampoo on your shelf (yes!! you have a shelf!!), but clumsily drop the bottle on the floor with a loud smack. That's why you don't hear the jingle of keys as Art (or Patrick,...but probably Art) opens the door, or the two consecutive thuds as both Patrick and Art drop their tennis duffels on the floor.

So just imagine your surprise when the shower curtain gets pulled open and Patrick steps in behind you. You squeak and your hands immediately move to cover yourself as you exclaim "What the fuck!"

Patrick is smirking as he replies, "Aw c'mon, I need to shower. Plus, it's nothing I haven't seen before." (another story for another time)

You start to move aside so Patrick can get under the water, but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the curve of your neck. You're used to something like this coming from Art, but Patrick?

"Hey, you okay? Bad day?" You ask, voice soft.

"Real bad," He whispered back, pressing soft kisses against your neck.

"Well, maybe I can help." You whisper as you turn to face him, and slowly drop to your knees.

With zero hesitation, Patrick's fingers tangle in your hair, his thumb pressed against the side of your cheek. He's already hard, beads of precum dripping out of his tip. No matter how many times you've seen little Patrick Jr., which is in fact anything but little, you always have to take a moment to even adjust to the sight of it.

Outside the bathroom, Art groans in annoyance, mumbling something under his breath about "noisy friends" and "not sharing the joy".

Oops.

—

"the fucking ac in my room is busted again !!! i'm coming over :')"

You sent Art a quick text before making your way over to their room. You curse under your breath, why on earth was your room always in shambles?

You made a mental note to feedback to maintenance as you let yourself into the boys' room. Art and Patrick are sitting on Art's bed, backs against the wall as they watch a movie on Patrick's laptop. Patrick's in nothing but his boxers, and Art is shirtless in shorts.

"Hey, I just saw your text. Our AC's busted too." Art says, offering a sympathetic smile. You notice two fans blowing in their direction and decide you just have to enjoy the breeze too.

Art scooches over to make room for you, and you rest your back against his chest, with one of his arms around your shoulder and the other splayed across your stomach.

After a while, the heat becomes almost unbearable, so you decide to just take off your shirt.

You don't miss the way both boys' eyes dart to your chest, but it's truly just too hot to care.

#📓—leawrites #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers #challengers x reader #challengers fanfic

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maneatercore · 3 months ago

Text

𝐢'𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : steve harrington x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : you move to hawkins because it's cursed, and what is a curse if not inspiration for art? you plan to spend your days painting and thinking about the macabre. what you don't plan is steve - his perfect smile, the ease of his affection, the inexplicable need you have for him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ minors dni! unprotected piv, oral sex (f receiving), size kink, multiple orgasms, pining, slight breeding kink even though r is on the pill, biting, r is kind of weird and steve loves it

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 5.8k

You’re smoking in the cemetery when Steve first meets you.

You’re wearing all black: tights, leg warmers, and a long sleeve dress. He assumes you’re mourning someone freshly deceased, so he gives you a polite, acknowledging nod when you look at him. You don’t react.

The wind is bitter, biting. The tip of your nose is so cold it’s numb, so you rub at it while you exhale a puff of smoke into the dreary November air. You watch the stranger find the grave he’s looking for, and when he squats down by it and disappears from sight for a few minutes, you go back to reading the names on the tombstones closest to you. Birthdays, death days. You think about how old they were - or how young. You try to picture them in your head.

“It’s cold out here,” a voice says beside you. When you look up, there he is, hands stuffed into his pockets. He’s got a nice face: pretty pink lips and wide eyes framed with long lashes, cold-kissed cheeks flushed deep. His breath fogs in puffs of white vapor. “Do you want to take my jacket? I have another in the car.”

Before you can respond, he's already shrugging out of the garment in question, a brown coat lined with warm-looking sherpa. You leave your cigarette in your mouth and slip into the jacket because that's what he wants you to do. "Thanks," you say around your cig.

"Who are you?" He asks the question in an almost demanding way, but then he catches himself and shakes his head with a grimace. "Sorry. I just haven't seen you around."

"It's okay. I just moved here." You tell him your name. He repeats it back, his voice soft but gruff in all the right places. You decide that you really, really like the sound of your name in his mouth.

"Steve," he introduces himself, then goes to shake your hand. He wants to ask why you're here. Why you'd move to this town while everyone else is trying to get out. Who you know that's dead. Instead, he just says, "Well. Welcome to Hawkins."

"Thanks," you say. It looks like he's going to leave - his car is parked in the street nearby, and he's walking backwards toward it. "Wait. I can't take your jacket."

"If "No, it's fine, take it. I don't want you to freeze out here." He pauses his backwards-walking. Bites at his lip like he's stalling, deciding something. "If you want to give it back, I work at the diner in town.

Basically every day. I make a mean coffee."

You ask, "Are you flirting with me?" and he freezes.

But then you smile, so he gives a nervous little laugh and looks away. "Bad place to flirt, I know. Sorry. I'll see you sometime?"

You nod at him, lips still quirked upwards, and he says something like okay cool bye before he rushes back to his car, clearly shivering.

Steve does make a mean coffee. He asks if you like it sweet, and you do, so he gives you a steaming mug of caramel-colored liquid, still swirling with freshly poured creamer and what looks like cinnamon. You take a sip and sigh deep.

🕯️

Outside, it's gray and gloomy and absolutely frigid, as it so often has been throughout autumn in Hawkins. You wore Steve's jacket all the way inside, until you slipped into the vinyl seat of your booth, and he'd practically tripped over his feet to come and greet you with a million-dollar smile. Now you're listening to his recommendations while the warmth of the coffee in your system spills outward to your limbs.

"And, I mean, the bacon is just... Crazy. You've gotta pour maple syrup over it." He lifts his hand to his head and makes an explosion sound with his lips pursed, fist opening in time with the noise. You snicker at him. "We have the real stuff, like, from the tree, not the other crap. You'll love it. Promise. Are you laughing at me?"

"Yes," you tell him, body shaking with giggles, and he doesn't even look hurt. "'m sorry, you're just funny. I'll take whatever you think is good, okay?"

Just when you notice that Steve's cheeks are tinted the prettiest, faintest shade of pink, he nods, spins around, and disappears into the kitchen.

He comes back ten minutes later with way too much food. There are too many plates to count, piled high with wide, fluffy pancakes, grits slick with butter, pepper-flecked scrambled eggs, and that bacon Steve promises is mind-blowing.

"Steve," you say as he slides the last plate onto the table. Perfectly toasted triangles of bread, with jam and butter. "I cannot eat all of this."

"Take whatever you can't eat to go. It's on me, if you're worried about how much it is. You told me to give you whatever's good, and there's a lot, so..."

"Help me?" You grab one of the napkin-wrapped bundles of silverware and unravel it, eyes on him. He takes in a sharp breath and looks around the diner.

It's Wednesday morning, ten o'clock. There's two other people nursing coffees at the bar, one of them reading a newspaper, the other watching the tiny television fixed to the wall. The emptiness of the place encourages him to slide into the seat opposite you. "Since you asked so nicely," he says, grabbing his own bundle of silverware.

The two of you eat around the assortment of plates, and he's right - everything is good. The bacon, smothered in that "real" maple syrup Steve talked up, is utterly divine. You eat until your stomach feels like it's stretched to double its size, and wash it all down with coffee and orange juice.

"Thoughts?" Steve asks. He wipes a sheen of hash brown grease from his lips with a napkin.

"Good. So good," you say, "but I'm going to need to hibernate after all of this.

"That's how you know it's good ole comfort food." Steve stands up and wipes his hands on his apron, then starts to stack empty plates in a complicated pile. You try to help, but he playfully swats your hand away with a chastising look. "'ll be back," he tells you and rushes off to discard the dishes and grab a few to-go boxes.

He doesn't let you help him pack up the leftovers, nor does he let you even see the price of everything you'd devoured. You try to stuff some cash into the pocket of his apron but he backs away with expert agility.

"First I steal vour iacket. now this? | feel like a leech."

"You're not a leech. I'm buttering you up on purpose."

"Oh?" You grab your discarded scarf from your seat and wrap it loosely around your throat. "And why is that, Steve?"

There's something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. He lets a couple beats pass, then slides over your plastic bag of to-go boxes. "Just welcoming you to Hawkins."

🕯️

You can't make Steve pay for your food and flirt with you on the job forever, and you certainly can't live on pancakes and bacon grease, so the two of you eventually move your hang-outs to non-working hours. You invite him to your place: a shabby little cottage on the edge of the forest, rented for stupid cheap from a family that just wanted to skip town and not worry about selling the house first. You've been here for a month or two, you're not really sure, but you've already settled in nicely. There are old wooden shelves pinned to the walls, sporting half-melted candles in silver holders and a few jars of oddities you've collected over the years: animal bones, butterfly wings, funny-shaped rocks, dried herbs. Long-dead flowers hang in bunches throughout the home, and on nearly every flat surface, there are collections of thoroughly used paint brushes and squeezed tubes of acrylic paint.

Stupidly, you'd tried to hide the countless canvases bearing your paintings in varying states of completion when Steve had first come over. But of course, he'd found them.

"Creepy," he'd mumbled while he browsed through your work. He caught himself sounding rude and stammered, "I mean, in a good way, in a really good way.”

He looked through your paintings for what felt like hours, oohing and ahhing at the whorls of black and violet and scarlet paint, portraits of frightened-looking women and blood-splattered angel wings.

Even though Steve must've already known you were somewhat... Odd, given your choice of clothing and jewelry and makeup, the sight of him taking in your art made your palms sweat. Because what if it was too much? What if he thought you were too strange?

Instead, he'd turned to you with a lightbulb-moment expression. "I should introduce you to Will, a friend of mine. He paints. He'd probably love this stuff. It's good."

And that had been enough to keep you from worrying that he'd run for the hills from you, yelling burn the witch!

Now, it seems silly that you could ever doubt Steve's interest in you. He comes by your house a few times a week, brings you leftover sweets from the diner that he promises were free of charge. He leaves you notes on the kitchen table that you never seem to catch him writing, and calls you on the days when he's too tired after work to come over. He wipes chocolate frosting from the corners of your lips and massages your forearms while you hum along to the mixtape you'd made for him, An Intro to Real Music, darkwave beats thrumming in the close quarters of your home. He makes your heartbeat feel unsteady.

"I have a stupid question," he tells you today, as one song peters out from the speakers and the next begins. He's rubbing circles in your arms, and the warmth of his touch is so comforting you think you could fall asleep like this.

"Hm?"

"What do you look like without your makeup?"

You can kind of hear him hold his breath. Truthfully, it's not a stupid question. Not when you wear black kohl eyeliner like it's going out of style, smudged all around your eyes and pointed outward at the inner and outer corners. You cover your face with foundation a shade or two too light, and your lipstick is always a smear of deep, wine red. Still, it's sweet that he thinks he's being insensitive.

"Normal. Boring, I guess. Why? You wanna see?"

"Seriously? No, no, it's fine. I was just... Wondering. Dunno." His hands find one of yours, and he rubs his thumbs into your palms to relieve the tension there.

Tension you didn't even know was there.

You peer up at him and smile, eyes finding his. "You wanna see. Okay, hold on."

Standing up from the cheap, rickety couch in the living room, you make your way to the bathroom and rifle through your cabinets for a container of Pond's lotion. It takes a good while to rub away all the makeup, but you're patient with it, and eventually you emerge from the bathroom makeup-free, skin shiny with moisture. Steve is still on the couch, and it looks like he's biting his nails when he looks up and sees you.

You gesture to your face and murmur a little ta-da! as you climb back onto the couch beside him. His arm snakes around your shoulders and he uses his free hand to pinch your chin, just to angle your face perfectly for his viewing. "God," he says.

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"Good, good," Steve rushes out, "I think you're just as pretty. But it's different. I like you both ways, I think."

You smile shyly at him, not really knowing what to say. The mixtape plays a few more songs while the two of you slip back into conversation. Steve is curious about you, and you feel the same about him, so you take turns trading little life anecdotes. He learns that you came to Hawkins because it's cheap and you felt drawn to its paranormal allure - you know, being cursed and all. You learn that he's lived here his whole life, long before it started getting...

Weird.

You don't ask him why he doesn't leave. The people he talks about, his friends, his found family, are clearly important to him. And they've stayed. Steve strikes you as one of the most loyal people you've ever met.

🕯️

It snows for the first time of the season in late November. You wake up to it that Sunday morning, pulling open the curtains and seeing flurries cascading down to the gray-brown earth. You get a fire going in the living room, poking at the flames with the set of wrought iron tools by the fireplace.

The phone rings.

"Hello," you say into the phone. You already know who it is - you don't get calls from anyone else.

"Did you look outside yet?"

"Mhm, it's pretty. I'm freezing." You twist your finger around the coiled cord of the landline, listening and agreeing in all the right moments as Steve invites himself over for coffee and banana bread. Both of which are provided by him.

When you hear the hum of his car engine outside, you wrap a blanket around yourself and swing open the front door to greet him. He's clad in a puffy jacket and a blue flannel underneath, nose beet red as he rushes through the door with a glass dish covered by aluminum foil. "Hi," you say and he shifts the dish to one hand to give you a quick hug. "Hi," he says back.

You both agree that the warmest place in your tiny is the rug next to the fireplace, so the two of you lay out some blankets and pillows there to share breakfast. The banana bread is, like, ridiculously good.

"Did you make this?" You cover your mouth to keep from spitting out a crumb while you talk.

Steve snorts. "No, my mom did. Sorry to disappoint."

You stop chewing and give him a funny look. "She made it... For me?"

"Oh, uh. No. I kind of swiped it from the kitchen this morning." He breaks eye contact and looks very focused on a speck of dirt or dust or lint on his jeans. It almost looks like he winces at himself. You hum your response, not really surprised by his admission. You swallow a mouthful of banana bread and chase it with some coffee. "I don't really talk to my parents," Steve blurts suddenly, and you give him another funny look, though you try to mask it. He charges on. "So they don't know about you. But my friends know. I mean, about you. I've told them about you."

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and you're acutely aware of how soft his gaze is, how sweetly he looks at you when you're together. You couldn't keep from smiling if you tried. "What have you told them about me?"

Your question earns a scoff of surprise from Steve.

"What haven't I told them? That you're pretty, but, like, kind of intimidating at first. That you're an artist and everything you create is crazy good - art museum kinda stuff. You're smart, mysterious, and just... Cool. So cool. l've never met anyone as cool as you."

Laughing, you wrinkle your nose. "Nobody's ever called me cool before."

"That's insane. You really are so cool."

"You're embarrassing me," you mutter as your cheeks warm, surely spreading redness from your face to the tips of your ears. Steve says sorry, reaches forward, and grabs your hand. Your fingers intertwine and he's so warm, it thaws you out instantly.

It's hard not to pry any further. You want to ask Steve what you are to him - what he tells his friends you are. Just another friend? Some girl? Or something else? You open your mouth to ask but he doesn't see it, so he dives into a story about how the first snow of the season is always the most magical, because even though you see it every winter, its return carries the excitement and comfort and familiarity of seeing an old friend.

🕯️

December comes, and with it, more snow.

Christmas lights blink at you from where they line the homes on Steve's street, a few snowmen standing guard in the whiteness of the front lawns.

The car pulls into Steve's driveway and he puts it in park, turning to you with a grin. "Here," he announces unnecessarily.

The two of you make your way inside and hang up your outerwear, toeing your shoes off by the door.

You've brought a backpack with you, stuffed to the brim with everything you need to stay the night - Steve suggested that you two should have a

"sleepover" since his parents were out of town, and how could you say no? Of course, he'd made sure to qualify that it was an innocent sleepover, as opposed to... The other kind?

You're genuinely intimidated by the niceness of his house - it's bigger than any home you've ever lived in.

Even so, Steve looks embarrassed as he gestures around vaguely and says welcome. He asks if you want hot cocoa and you do, so you follow him into the too-big kitchen where he searches the too-big cabinets and too-big fridge for everything he needs.

You stand by the island and look around some more, only stopping when Steve places your warm mug in front of you.

You take a sip and shift around, the noise of your backpack ruffling catching Steve's "Oh, shit. You wanna put that upstairs? Sorry. Forgot you had a bag." He reaches out to take it from you and you oblige, trailing after him yet again as he leads you upstairs to his bedroom. It's crazy, the sheer amount of lights in his house. He has to flick a new lightswitch every few feet, and the house just keeps spilling out before you.

When you finally reach his room, he places your backpack on his neatly made bed. The room is nothing particularly notable, but the fact that you're in his room at all makes your neck get hot, and you bite at your lip to self-soothe.

"I don't know what you want to do tonight," Steve says, "but I have movies and music, some board games too. You can pick?"

He seems anxious, too, and you wonder if it's for the same reason that you are. The intimacy of being in his house for the first time, the fact that you'll be alone with him until tomorrow afternoon or maybe even later. The emptiness of the hours in front of you. The pressure to fill that time with something interesting.

"Let's make a fort." You take a few steps up to his bed and touch a folded-up blanket that sits atop his duvet cover. "Got more blankets than this? Pillows, too? We'll need lots of them."

So, you find yourself spending the night building a fort in Steve's living room with an array of sheets, blankets, comforters, and pillows. You two have creative differences regarding the structure, but when all is said and done, it's a pretty solid fortress.

You're panting from the effort of it all, the back of your shirt stuck to your spine with sweat, when you finally splay out on the pillows inside the fort. Steve is beside you nursing the last of his hot cocoa, equally spent from all the effort. "I haven't built a fort since I was a kid," he reflects, and you nod in agreement.

"Same here. That was fun. What should we call it?"

Steve thinks, shrugs his shoulders. "I'm bad at names. Let's just call it The Fort."

"Okay. The Fort." You let out a laugh and Steve's lips twitch into a smile. He reaches down at you and swipes a strand of loose hair from your face, expression turning serious. The change makes your heartbeat pick up a few notches. It's quiet, so quiet, until Steve says, "You are so pretty it hurts."

You're lying flat on the pillows and you want to sink further into them, because his words make you feel like you're melting. You mumble something that you hope sounds like thank you, shy under the intense gaze Steve's giving you. He licks his lips and you watch the quick flash of his pink tongue. Then, he sets his empty mug just outside The Fort, turning just for a second before he's facing you again. He shuffles around until he can lower himself onto the pillows beside you.

"I'm sorry. Was that too much?"

"What?"

"I said you're so pretty it hurts. And I meant it, by the way. But do you not like that? When I call you pretty?"

You tap your foot, pick at your nails, whatever you can do to expel some of the nervous energy that buzzes in you. "I do like it," you tell him, "especially because it's you saying it."

You can feel him moving beside you; your peripheral vision lets you see that he's turned his head so he can look at you. The sound of his breathing is closer than its ever been. Or maybe you're just more conscious of it than you've ever been. You close your eyes, turn your head to face him, and open your eyes again. Just like you'd thought, he's already looking at you.

You somehow find your voice enough to say, "You're also pretty. So pretty it hurts."

Steve's pupils dilate wide, and you think for a moment to a time someone had told you that your eyes do that when you're looking at someone you like.

You can't do it anymore. The holding back. You give up and kiss him.

Steve tastes like his hot cocoa, so sweet and chocolatey, but there's also the taste of him underneath the Swiss Miss that makes you shiver.

He holds you through the tremors, hands all over you but somehow not on you enough, and you struggle to breathe when he moves to climb on top of you and cradle your hips as you make out. Your tongues slide against each other and Steve's saliva is slick in your mouth, but you want more of him, as much of him as you can have.

You moan into his mouth and the sound makes him draw in a ragged breath through his nose.

"How can I get you to do that again?" The question is murmured against your lips, but before you can think of an answer, Steve is nosing at your jawline, inhaling your scent and pressing open-mouthed kisses to the smooth skin of your neck. You keen at him, sigh and moan at him, squirm underneath him with your eyes squeezed shut, and he loves it all.

"Yeah?" he asks once, when you moan particularly high in your throat. He'd found a sweet spot on the crook of your neck, and your noises encourage him to stay there until an angry, purple-red bruise marks you.

"Steve," you call out, because he keeps going. His hands slip under your shirt and he's warm on your belly, the soft fat of your hips, the roll of your skin underneath your bra. He unclasps the bra in one quick motion and then palms at the round swells of your breasts, nipples already peaked under his thumbs. "God," he gasps into your throat. "You're going to kill me."

"I would never," you whisper back. Steve huffs a short laugh and brings his lips back up to yours to kiss you deep. Then he breathes out, "Do you want this?"

He rocks his hips forward and you feel something hard bump against your hip. The sensation sends a cascade of butterflies throuah vou. "Please." is all is all you can manage to say.

So he peels your shirt from your torso and sets it somewhere to the side with your bra. Then he's staring at the newly exposed skin before him, the planes of your stomach and sternum, the soft flesh that's thrumming with the need for him. His lips are parted and his eyes are so, so wide.

"Beautiful," he murmurs before he litters your body with hot kisses. You don't think he's aware of how he's moving against you, the restrained length of his cock grinding down on you in search of friction. You hook your leg around his waist and cant your hips up to meet him and he makes a tortured sound, panting. Encouraged, he works on undoing your pants and working them from your hips, until you re just in your lace panties and fuzzy socks.

Steve looks like he really is going to die. Brown hair mussed, lips swollen and blushing, pupils taking over his irises. You want him inside you. So you tell him, "I want you inside me."

His brows knit together and his expression looks like he's been kicked in the head. "God, okay, of course, yeah. But I have to get you ready for me. That okay?"

You think you're so wet that you could take him already, but the prospect of him stretching you open in other ways is thrilling, so you let him roll your panties off and bring his fingers to the wet heat of your cunt, the flood of arousal pooled at your entrance. His eyes roll back for a second or two when he feels you.

"So wet for me," he says in a strangled kind of voice.

"Bet you want me to just fuck you already, huh?" His words simultaneously embarrass and arouse you, setting you aflame with need. You bite the inside of your cheek and nod, thin brows furrowing as he spreads your wetness through your folds, all the way up to the swollen nub of your clit. Your hips twitch and you gasp while he plays with you, his attentive gaze watching for every subtle change in your expression. He works you open with one finger, then two, the thickness of the digits inside of you leaving you whining.

He's still fully clothed, towering over you with his hand between your legs, and the fact that you're so vulnerable in the moment while he's still in his still in his stupid sweater and stupid jeans makes you want to rip the fabric from his body. But it's hard to move when he's scissoring his fingers inside of you, then leaning over and opening his mouth to let a mouthful of saliva drip down onto your already-drenched folds. You whimper at the obscenity of the gesture, then whimper some more when he brings his mouth to your cunt and spreads his own saliva with his tongue, his low grunts and moans vibrating against you. It's too much, but it's somehow not enough. You're writhing beneath him, the fat of your inner thighs pushing inward to cage his head between them, and he doesn't stop, he just keeps lapping at your cunt like a man possessed, fingers pumping into you at a relentless pace. The promise of an orgasm burns bright in the heat of your lower belly, and when it gets too much to bear, you go rigid and release a tortured sound from your lips.

Steve can feel your hole squeezing him like a vice, but he fucks his fingers into that extra tightness to help you ride out your orgasm, tongue prodding at your clit until you're twitching away from his touch.

"There you go, babe," he says as he pulls back from your oversensitive cunt. "That wasn't so hard, was it?”

You're too dizzy with lust to respond so you just nod at him. He moves back up your body to kiss you again, the taste of your cunt in his mouth, and when he pulls back he's smiling at you. "D'you like tasting yourself?"

"Yes," you breathe. Your hands search for the hem of his sweater and tug until he chuckles at you and obliges, undressing himself too slowly for your liking. When it's just him in his boxers and you in your socks, you sit up, gaze falling to the hardened length of Steve's cock obscured with a thin layer of fabric. You gulp because he's big. He's really big.

"Told you I had to get you ready." Steve smirks at you, having caught on to the way you looked at his cock. "C'mere, baby."

You breathe through your nose as you crawl over to him and palm his length through his boxers, salivating in your mouth when you finally get the courage to pull the elastic waistband down and free his cock. It's big and it's pretty and it looks almost heavy, the weight of it tapping his stomach briefly when it bobs free. His tip is wet with precum, and you bring your thumb up to spread it around, You breathe through your nose as you crawl over to him and palm his length through his boxers, salivating in your mouth when you finally get the courage to pull the elastic waistband down and free his cock. It's big and it's pretty and it looks almost heavy, the weight of it tapping his stomach briefly when it bobs free. His tip is wet with precum, and you bring your thumb up to spread it around, prompting a sharp inhale from Steve as he watches.

He curses under his breath.

"Spit on it," he tells you. His hand finds your hair and he pets at it.

You do as you're told, gathering spit in your mouth until it's enough to coat his cock. Steve's hips rock forward when you circle your hand around him and spread the wetness of your saliva, the glide of your skin on his too easy. He draws in another quick breath and then moves to stand up, only pausing when you grab at his hand.

"Where are you going?" You frown at him.

"Gonna get a condom," he says with a wry smile,

"What? You can't wait that long?"

When you shake your head, he laughs. You insist,

"I'm serious. I take birth control."

The smugness of his expression falls, his eyes The smugness of his expression falls, his eyes searching your face for a hint that you're joking, but when you're not he makes a show of flaring his nostrils and rolling his eyes back.

"Fuck, okay. Lie down."

So you do. You spread your legs for him to climb between, and his body is a welcome heat against yours; the feel of his skin on you is so tantalizing you think you might pass out. The prod of his head against your entrance sobers you up, and then he's sinking into you inch by inch, face pulled into an expression you want to memorize forever. But then he tucks his face into your neck to bite at your sensitive skin. his breath hot and needv as he So you do. You spread your legs for him to climb between, and his body is a welcome heat against yours; the feel of his skin on you is so tantalizing you think you might pass out. The prod of his head against your entrance sobers you up, and then he's sinking into you inch by inch, face pulled into an expression you want to memorize forever. But then he tucks his face into your neck to bite at your sensitive skin, his breath hot and needy as he bottoms out.

"How's that feel?" Steve grunts.

"Good, so good, please move, Steve." Your cunt squeezes around him in encouragement.

When he starts to fuck you in earnest, the slapping sound of skin against skin ringing out in the living room, the way he hits something blindingly good within you makes your mind go blank. You're not usually so pliant in bed, but he's so good, and you can't think to do anything other than just take it as he ruts himself into you. His hands come to grab your hips with a bruising grip, and even that feels impossibly good. Steve's not quiet about how much he's enjoying himself, either, responding to your sweet moans and cries with his own curses and grunts, good girl and so tight for me falling from his lips in an endless stream.

You're a panting mess beneath him when he reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit, the sensation drawing a ragged gasp from you.

"Come for me again?" Steve asks but it's not much of a question, because he's dragging a second orgasm out of you already, fucking into you without abandon while you cry out his name and arch your back in pleasure. The sight of you like that, stretched out under him and lost in your own haze of lust, letting him fuck you as hard as he wants, it's just too fucking much for him. He leans closer to you and tells you he's going to come, and when you chant inside inside inside at him he damn near bites your neck open.

"You want me to fill you up?" He pants out the question while he chases his release, hips snapping into yours impossibly fast. You're nodding, eyes squeezed shut. "Huh? Tell me."

The blunt edges of his fingernails dig into the fat of your hips, and he doesn't slow down to let you speak easier. "Yes,"

' you gasp out, "Please, please fill

me up with you, please--"

"Mm. Good girl." Steve brings a hand up to pet at your cheek and then he's coming, hips stuttering as he fucks into you a few more times, somehow deeper than before, the head of his cock brushing against your g-spot while he spurts his cum within "Mm. Good girl." Steve brings a hand up to pet at your cheek and then he's coming, hips stuttering as he fucks into you a few more times, somehow deeper than before, the head of his cock brushing against your g-spot while he spurts his cum within you. The warmth of it makes you feel whole.

It takes a while for the two of you to come back to your senses. You're sweaty and struggling to breathe, wrapped up in him, and he brings his mouth to yours in a touchingly tender kiss that makes your stomach turn. Cum leaks from your hole when he finally pulls himself out. He looks at you with a dazed sort of expression when he slips his fingers into you again, pushing some of his semen back into your cunt. He beams at you as if you aren't whining and rolling your hips at his touch. "Can't let it go to waste, now, can we."

"You're evil," you say to him when he removes his hand from between your leg and kisses you on the cheek, settling into the pillows beside you again.

"Not always. You like it, don't you?"

A beat. "Yes," you confess.

"Knew it. We should shower. C'mon." Steve gathers the discarded clothes circling The Fort, then taps your hip to encourage you up. He leads you upstairs to his bathroom, where the shower is insanely big, and it's too tempting to keep yourselves from fooling around again when you're halfway through lathering your bodies with soap. And Steve fucks you again when you're in bed, hair still damp from the shower, then another time still when you wake up next to each other the following morning.

Outside, it snows so hard that the world looks like a painting. The lawn is powder white and the streets are empty, howling winter winds keeping you cuddled up to Steve for every morsel of warmth you can find. He kisses you like you're his, and you think maybe you are.

#steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

Text

Just A Little Bite (Vampire!Nanami x Black!Bimbo!Reader 18+ One Shot)

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Pairing: Kento Nanami x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Something strange is going on with Nanami. He doesn’t know what it is and neither do you. All you know is that he’s been extremely…possessive lately. And tonight at a friend’s costume party, when he sees you dressed in your sexy little outfit that garners unwanted attention from other men, Nanami’s “instincts” kick in and he drags you off to show you and everybody else that you’re his and his only. But does this strange yet sexy behavior come from you or is it just a full moon?

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GTFO), Monster!Nanami, Bimbo!Reader, Black-Coded!Reader, Semi-Public Sex, Jealous!Nanami, Marking, Biting, Blood Play, Hypnosis, Dubcon/R*pe, Doggystyle, Mirror Sex, Mating Press, Unprotected Creampie, Mutual O, Choking, Aftercare, Dom!Nanami + sub!Reader, Established Relationship/Dating, Couples’ Costume, Monsterf*cking

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Vampire!Nanami is a concept that was just TOO HOT not to write about. Idk about y’all, but I’d let Nanami suck on my neck and my p— *TV FUZZ SOUNDS* any day 🤭 I based this one shot around the sexy fan art by @aliasnnmknt on their Twitter. PLEASE check out their work & enjoy! -Jazz 💋💋💋

**********

Nanami watches you like a predator would watch his prey: ravenously, possessively, and almost menacingly.

He stands off to the side nursing his lukewarm beer that he grips so tightly in his fist that he nearly breaks the glass bottle in half. He briefly pictures the bottle being Gojo’s neck instead that he wrings and snaps in half.

He blinks away the murder scene from his thoughts, criticizing himself for such murderous thoughts. He has never thought this way about anyone before…until you. As he watches Gojo hang around you like a bee hovering around honey, he can’t think about anything except how close the guy is to you—his girl.

He can’t exactly blame him though. You look absolutely to die and kill for in your little vampire costume for Gojo’s Halloween party. You put a sexy little spin on it with the mini skirt you paired with the lace black corset that pushes up your juicy breasts for all to behold. Your face brightens as you smile, the fake fangs in your mouth giving you such an adorable look that Nanami can’t stand it. Despite the thigh high, high heeled boots you wear, Gojo still towers over you. Like Nanami, he has a thing for pretty things too. Why must you be so goddamn pretty? So cute?

And it isn’t just your looks. Your bubbly, sweet personality makes you even more addictive. You’re so nice to everyone, even those who Nanami believes may not deserve it. But that’s what he adores about you. He’s fucking obsessed with you. ….Obsessed enough to wear a couple’s vampire costume with you and attend a Halloween party that he really didn’t want to go to.

“Wow, Y/N!” Gojo coos, his voice carrying over the music pulsing throughout the house. “You look so cute tonight! That blood is drippin’ like crazy though.” He uses one of his fake knife fingers to poke you and leans in closer to inspect the fake blood dripping down your plump lips to your chin to your neck right down to those luscious, full, pretty, soft, juicy, suckable ti—

“Thanks, Satoru!” You giggle, patting the taller man on the shoulder. He grins down at you, his Freddy Krueger hat tipped up to show off his handsome face. “Don’t worry, the blood is edible and washes right off. Nanami is dressed as a vampire too! Did you see him?”

Gojo’s smile turns into a smirk that boils Nanami’s blood. “I sure did,” he chuckles. “The guy has been hidin’ in the shadows all night. He’s livin’ up to the role.” He nods over to where Nanami is, a glint in his blue eyes.

You turn around in your vampire cape and give him an adorable waggle of your red, manicured fingers. Gojo waves too, mockingly so, while he plays with the ties of your cape at the nape of your throat. He’s too close. He’s too fucking close.

‘Asshole,’ Nanami thinks, chugging back some beer as if to ease his increasing anger. ‘He’d better get back now or I’ll—‘

“Here’s another drink for the lady,” Ino announces, passing you a red solo cup topped with a concoction of vodka and fruit juice. You love anything sweet and fruity. “Saw that your cup was empty and wanted to oblige.” He flirtatiously grins at you, appearing like the demon he’s dressed as tonight. Of course he put the fake horns over that damn beanie.

You gasp, putting a hand dramatically to your heart at the gesture. “Oh, thank you, Ino! Isn’t that so sweet?” You give him a hug to which he returns, giving Gojo a shit-eating grin. Under the blinking orange and red lights above, Nanami can see Gojo’s eye twitch in irritation. He has no right to be irritated. You’re Nanami’s girl. His baby. Why are all of these men so hell bent on trying his patience?

And why did you have to wear such a delectable outfit with your tits and thighs out? Nanami never was the type of man to tell his partner what to wear. He’s not that possessive. But damn, does it grind his gears to see other men ogle at what is his like ravenous dogs.

What does he have to do? Tear your clothes off, bend you over, and fuck you until he makes you cum to make them see that you’re his?

He blinks, shocked by the sudden dirty thought. Nanami is sexual, yes, but these deviant thoughts have never crossed his mind with you. Despite how small and cute and sweet you are, all he has ever wanted to do is make you feel good and attend to your body. He wants to give you pleasure. Give you what you want and need. He is completely at your service.

But the idea of littering your soft skin in teeth marks, making those pretty brown eyes roll back as he fucks you dumb, and filling you up with his cum makes his cock harder than he’d like to admit. He has to cover his bulge with his cape to avoid anyone seeing his obvious hard-on.

Now more have started to surround you until you’re like a movie star getting swarmed by her adoring fans. “Wow, Y/N, those nails are so long!” Yuji gasps, dressed as Chucky the Doll tonight. “Jeez, did you grow ‘em yourself?”

Megumi, dressed as absolutely nothing but a ‘This Is My Costume’ shirt and jeans, rolls his eyes. “Stupid,” he mutters. “Obviously, they’re fake.” You giggle as Yuji peers down at your long, red nails, even playing with them. Nanami has never wanted to kill a child before, but if Yuji doesn’t get his hands off of you, there’s going to be a big problem.

Geto suddenly appears like a phantom appearing out of thin air, just as tall as Gojo and dressed in a Ghostface costume. “Careful, or she may just scratch you with ‘em,” he sniggers, giving you a flirty look. “Not that I’d mind that.” Gojo chuckles, tossing an arm around Geto’s shoulders. “Me either. Call us pain sluts.”

Oh, they’re sluts indeed. Nanami knows all about how this whorish couple scoops up pretty little things like you and shares them in the bedroom. You could never want that…not with them. If you’re going to have a threesome with anyone, he’ll clone himself for that.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” you giggle, patting Geto on the chest. “You guys are too sweet to me! I’d only scratch up the bad guys and spooky monsters.” You make a show of cutely scratching at the air, your perfect lips wrapping around the rim of your cup.

“Weeeell, I think demons count for both,” Ino chuckles. “Better luck next time, fellas.” He gives a wink to the couple as he tries to sneakily wrap an arm around around your shoulders, but Gojo stops him by physically cutting between him and you. “Ya might wanna tell yourself that,” he says, peering at Ino over his sunglasses. Maybe you’ll have some game next time.”

Ino’s smirk grows cockier, but before this can go South, a song that excites Yuji begins to play. “Y/N, you’ve gotta come dance to this!” He says, grabbing you by the hand. “You like Megan Thee Stallion too! I remember! Megumi’s gonna dance too!” You giggle at Megumi who blushes, elbowing Yuji in the side.

“No thanks, kids,” Gojo tuts, shooing the younger men away. “Besides, Y/N doesn’t wanna dance with two ametures.” He smiles down at you, but it isn’t friendly. Nanami can see the undercurrent of lust in it.

“Geto and I know a thing or two about sharin’ a partner,” he says in a sultry tone. “Can you handle two at the same time on the floor, cutie?” He and Geto surround you like two hawks, waiting for you to let your guard down. Nanami just about loses it. He is seeing red.

But you—sweet, oblivious you—don’t see the ulterior motives in the couple’s offer. “Oh, but Nanami might wanna dance too,” you add. “He’s right over there!” You point to where he stands on the wall, giving him a pretty smile that floods his stomach with butterflies. After taking one final swig of beer for liquid courage, Nanami places the bottle down on a nearby table and strides up to meet you on the dance floor. The throng of people part for him, not wanting to get in the way of this tall, big man with forearms and thighs that could crush heads.

Gojo and Geto couldn’t look less intimidated by the blonde in his vampire costume, same as his girlfriend. “Ohhh, so he’s finally blessed us with his presence,” Gojo teases. Nanami ignores him, but gives both him and his boyfriend a glare as he takes your hand in his.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, hit by a whiff of your sugary perfume. What is that? Vanilla with a hint of caramel? Whatever it was, it was making him hard as a rock. “I need to talk to you,” he murmurs.

You nod and wave goodbye at Geto and Gojo as Nanami drags you off of the dance floor. He leads you over to the wall where he was before. When you look up at him, all smiles and twinkly brown eyes, he nearly goes feral and fucks you right there. What the hell is going on with him? He presses a hand to his head that has begun to pound like the bass of the music playing overhead.

“Hey, Kenny, baby,” you giggle. “The guys want me to dance with them. They’re playing ‘Thriller’!” Your smile suddenly fades, replaced with a frown as your expression turns to one of concern. “Hey…Kenny, what’s wrong? Is it your head?”

“Uh…” Nanami winces, the throbbing in his brain growing. He also feels extremely hot, like the party is too much and too stuffy all of the sudden. “I-I’m sorry, doll, but I think we should leave. My head is hurting.”

Your cute face etches with concern, your eyebrows drawn together. “Oh, you poor thing,” you coo, gently stroking his back. “Is it the beer? Did you have any water? Maybe you need some food! Here, I’ll go get you an eyeball cake pop!” You turn to head to the snack table, but he abruptly stops you by placing a hand on your arm.

“No, no,” he abruptly says. “Just….stay here. With me.” He pulls you toward him, smushing you against his body. He sighs breathing in your sweet, intoxicating perfume and fruity shampoo. He already feels better feeling you in his arms, blocked from the prying eyes of the men lurking in the shadows.

He feels your soft, small hands on him, feeling him up. Feeling your hands on him only makes his cock harder, pushing against the fabric of his slacks. “Kento,” you whisper, pulling away to gape at him. “Baby, you’re burning up! Are you sure you’re okay?”

He falls into the brown sugar depths of your eyes, pulled in by how pretty and worried they look. He doesn’t know how to answer you without possibly giving away his secret. Without admitting that he’s been lying to you about what he truly is. “I…I don’t—“

“Y/N!” A familiar voice suddenly shouts. Your turn, grinning at Habibara walking into the scene wearing a Woody costume, boots and all. Behind him is Higuruma in a simple suit splattered with blood which could either be a ‘Pulp Fiction’ or ‘American Psycho’ reference. Haibara’s eyes become comically wide at the sight of you. “Damn, girl, aren’t you the cutest vampire ever! Look at you! You look amazing!” He wraps his arms around you and picks you up, spinning you around and around. Nanami seethes at the sight of it.

When his friend puts you down, you look joyful and absolutely radiant. “Thanks, Haibara,” you giggle. “Oh, you brought Higuruma out! You two look amazing!” The lawyer sighs, looking like he wants to be somewhere other than here. “I don’t know why I’m here,” he sighs. “I’d much rather be at home.” Nanami silently agrees,

Haibara laughs, wrapping an arm around the lawyer's neck. “Well, maybe a look at this darlin’ will change that attitude,” he chuckles. “Just look at her! Ain’t Nanami’s girl so pretty?” He grins at you while Higuruma takes one look at you and blushes. He fucking blushes! Nanami has never seen this man even crack a smile.

You’re just too powerful with your bimbo self. Your sweetness and cuteness are forces that cannot be fought with or against. You can make even the most uptight of men blush and fall to their knees just as Nanami almost did the first time he met you.

While any other man may be fine and even happy with the fact that other men desire their women, Nanami is different.

Very different. Just the idea of any man looking at you is enough to make him snap. Despite half of the men at this party being his friends, colleagues, or mentees, he sees them as enemies tonight. He wants nothing more than to steal you away, lock you up, and never let you out again.

But maybe he doesn’t have to do that.

Maybe all he has to do is rip your corset open to reveal those gorgeous tits and pretty, brown nipples and mark them up with red and purple hickeys to show everyone that you’re his.

Maybe he can just bend you over the nearest piece of furniture, lift up that tiny skirt, and spank that ass of yours until he sees handprints.

Maybe he can even flash these horn dogs that dripping pussy of yours, stuff his fingers inside and make you cum the only way he knows how.

Maybe he can simply sit you down with him and bounce you on his cock for everyone to witness, stare into the eyes of every man who has ogled you tonight and think, ‘Yeah, look at this shit. This is mine. Only I can fuck her like this.’

He can dig his nails into the soft flesh of your ass. Wrap a hand around your throat. Shove his tongue down your throat. All while your velvety walls squeeze around him as you finally hit your climax and you milk him so much that he busts a fat load in your—

“Nanami?” Your soft voice is laced with worry. He blinks, finding you, Haibara, and Higuruma staring at him. “Are you okay, baby?” You ask, concerned. “Your eyes look kinda…weird.”

“Yeah, man,” Haibara adds, squinting curiously at his friend. “They look all red. I didn’t know you smoked!”

Red? Immediately, Nanami’s nerves become frazzled when everything starts to make sense. The murderous thoughts. His headache. And now, his aching teeth. He turns to the window and sure enough, there is a big, fat, white full moon glowing in the sky. ‘Oh, no,’ he thinks. No, not now! How could he forget tonight is a full moon?! He thought he was more careful. More prepared.

Immediately, he takes your hand and snatches you away without another word. “Let’s go,” he growls. You gasp, following after him on quick feet. “Where are we going?!” You yell over the music. He turns to you, doing his best to keep his hormones in check. “Somewhere more private. Upstairs.”

He zooms up the steps with you, nearly knocking over other partiers in the process. “Don’t fuck up my sheets!” Gojo yells after you and Nanami. “I’ve got condoms in my nightstand if you need ‘em, Nanami!”

Nanami ignores the childish cheering as he ascends up the steps with you in tow. He finds an empty bedroom and yanks you inside, shutting the door behind you. The room is spacious and clean with a king-sized bed, a window overlooking the moon, and a mirror hanging above the bed on the ceiling. ‘Fuckin’ freaks,’ Nanami thinks. He knows that this is Gojo and Geto’s bedroom.

“Kento!” You gasp, panting from the speed walk up here. “What’s going on? We’re gonna miss the party!” Nanami turns to you, putting his big hands on your shoulders. He winches, feeling his nails aching to stretch into sharp claws. “We need to leave, Y/N,” he growls out. “Right now.”

‘Or something really bad is about to happen,’ he thinks.

You blink those pretty, long lashes at him, perplexed. “But they didn’t even cut the pumpkin cake,” you pout. “Don’t you want some cake, Nanami?” God, does he. Nanami has never wanted to fuck you more than now. He lowers his head to stare at the floor, unable to take your cuteness. “God, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he huffs. “Why the hell must you be so fuckin’ cute?”

You stand there, still as a statue, confused at what’s happening to your boyfriend. He doesn’t blame you. He has never behaved in such a manner before…or not in front of you, at least. He knows he can’t keep this from you.

“I must confess, darling,” he sighs, gripping your hands in his. “I don’t like the way those guys look at you. Gojo, Habibara, all of them. I don’t even know why you had to wear…that.” His eyes glaze over your sexy costume, his cock growing harder.

Your eyes grow big and soft, disappointment in them. “You don’t like my costume?” You softly ask. Immediately, he feels guilt pang in his chest. “No, no, I love it, baby. That’s the problem—others love it too. And some of those guys down there aren’t as nice as others.”

‘Like me. They won’t treat you like I will—like a fucking princess.’

You tilt your head to the side like a puppy. “What do you mean?” You ask. The ache in his teeth has grown increasingly and he winces in pain. You notice and go to touch him, but he stops you by kissing your hand. “Some of those men wanna fuck you,” he hisses, and your eyes widen at the dirty word falling from his lips. “They wanna take you from me when you’re my girl. My baby. You’re mine.”

Your pretty face becomes etched in worry and slight fear. This isn’t your boyfriend. Your sweet, respectful Nanami. This is…someone else. “N-Nanami?” You stammer.

He releases your hands and places his own on your hips. You watch in awe as he sinks to his knees as if in complete and total anguish…and he is. Your beauty is almost painful as it is to hold back the power of the full moon. ”You’re all mine,” he repeats. “And I need to show everyone that. I need to make sure they know that you’re taken.”

He looks up into your eyes and finds nothing but fear in them. “Nanami!” You gasp, pressing yourself against the door. “Your teeth!”

Nanami slides his tongue along his upper row of teeth where, sure enough, he feels two sharpened points. “Shit,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, baby. It wasn’t my intention to tell you like this.” You’re still pressed against the wall, looking like a terrified bunny. He feels his heart shatter at the sight. “Tell me what?” You whimper. “Kento, you’re scaring me.”

Nanami continues to sit on his knees, keeping a distance from you to not alarm you any further. “Don’t be scared, baby,” he coos, holding your fearful eyes with his. “I’ll never ever hurt you, but there is something about me that I haven’t told you.”

The moonlight shines brighter into the room, illuminating your brown skin and glassy eyes. “What is it?” You whisper, but he knows you know the answer. When the moonlight hits him, he feels its warmth and its power as he is washed in its silvery light. His headache dissolves as his fangs and claws grow and his eyes grow a crimson red like the purest blood. “This,” he softly growls. “This is what I am. I can’t help it, baby. It’s a full moon unfortunately.”

He watches as your eyes grow wide as saucers and your plump, glossy lips form an O. “O-Oh, my God,” you gasp. “Y-You’re a…a…” You don’t finish, but he already knows what you’re about to say. A vampire.

You must’ve had a hunch something was different about your boyfriend, didn’t you? How he barely comes out in the daytime unless to see you. The fact that he keeps his curtains drawn, telling you before that sunlight weakens his eyesight. The fact that he eats his steaks very rare.

The signs have been there all along and he’s sure you’re realizing it now. He stands and grasps your arms, desperation taking over. “I won’t hurt you, but I need to show you that you’re mine,” he says, a rasp of need in his voice. “I must claim you.”

He feels your body relax under his touch which gives him the green light to kiss you. He slowly leans in, giving you the chance to pull away or tell him to stop…but you don’t. Instead, you tilt your chin up to meet his lips in a hot, slow, passionate kiss that sweeps you off of your feet and draws the softest moans out of you.

Nanami immediately grows feral at the sound, feel, and smell of you. You’re so sweet. So soft. So small. So adorable. And so completely his. He presses himself against you, giving you a feel of his hard-on as his tongue swirls with yours in a wet dance. When he pulls away, you gasp as he begins to pepper your neck in open-mouthed kisses. “N-Nanami,” you whimper, gripping his shoulders. “The party—“

“Fuck the party,” he growls, licking at your throat. “All that matters right now is you and me.” He focuses on that spot behind your ear that you like, relishing the squeaky moan you let out and how you press your tits into his groping hands. “Invite me in, darling,” he pleads. “Tell me you want me to.”

His cock presses against his slacks, urging him to rip them off and stuff you full now. Luckily, you’re on the same time and wrap your leg around his waist to bring him closer. “Nanami,” you moan. “Oh, Nanami, yes!”

Nanami wedges his knee between your thighs where he urges you to grind your cunt against his thigh. “Tell me you want me,” he repeats. “Let me in, baby.” His cock aches intensely, but he ignores it. He can’t do this without your permission. He won’t–

“Yes!” You whine, gripping him for dear life. “Yes, Ken, take me! I want this so badly!” Nanami doesn’t even have to read your mind to know that you mean it. He can hear the desperation in your voice.

Minutes later, while the party rages on downstairs, Nanami fulfills both of your needs when has you bent over the side of Gojo and Geto’s bed and his big, thick, long cock filling up every inch of your wet pussy over and over again. Your gorgeous tits sway out of your corset and your beautiful ass bounces off of his pelvis the more he fucks you, his hands gripping each asscheek where his sharp nails nearly dig into your skin. Your mini skirt, panties, and boots forgotten on the floor along with his clothes, leaving you only in your corset.

Meanwhile, Nanami is completely naked, his chest and neck coated in your lipstick stains and his cock hard inside of you from your constant and heavenly sucking and gagging on it earlier. He only grows harder and more feral at the sweet sound of your sugary, high-pitched moans as he fucks you at a pace he never has before.

With the moon high in the sky, Nanami’s powers are at their peak. He now has superspeed which allows him to fuck you at damn near the speed of light, causing the bed to scoot across the floor and the sound of skin slapping against skin to drift in the air.

He leans down to nibble at your ear with his fangs, fanning your face in mint-scented breath. “How’s this, my love?” He growls into your ear. “Is this good enough for my baby, hm?” He moves his hands to cup your tits, keeping them safe in his big palms. You’re losing your ever-loving mind at this point. His dick is too good. His stroke game is immaculate. All of your senses are heightened with him, as his are with you. You love sex with a vampire! “F-Fuck, Nanami, yes!” You moan. “You feel s-so good! Keep going! Don’t stop!”

He presses his nose into your hair, breathing in coconut and mango. “Never,” he groans. “But you need to keep makin’ those noises for me, okay, my love? Give me that voice.”

He slows down and begins to give you slow, deep strokes that rock you to your core. “B-But…oh, shit!…but they’ll hear us!” You whine. “Oh, fuck yes!” Poor baby. You can’t even get the rest of your sentence out because you’re getting fucked too god.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls. “Those guys can listen and jerk off for all I care. I want ‘em all to hear you gettin’ dicked down just like you should.” He’ll show all of those guys who had their eyes on you…even the ones who didn’t. He pictures them all standing around watching him now, cocks hard at the sight of you getting pounded by him. ‘This is how you fuck a woman,’ he’d tell them. ‘This is how you take what’s yours.’

Power fills his veins like heroin and he straightens up to grip your ass. “Tell me how you want it, baby,” he whispers. “You want it like this?” He pumps his hips a little faster, making your ass bounce and your moans grow loud. “Nanami,” you whimper. “T-Too…ah! Too m-much! I-I can’t…can’t!”

He chortles at how adorable you are, stroking your back with his hand. “Can’t what, darling?” He chuckles. “You can’t take all of that cock?” You nod faster than a bobblehead even as his cock keeps filling you again and again. He tuts. “Oh, but you’re wrong. You’re doin’ it so well right now. Actually…”

Slowly, he pulls his cock, slick with your juices, out of you and slaps it against your clit a few times before giving your ass a smack. “On your back, you little vixen.” Your giggles are aphrodisiacs to him as you do as you’re told. “Yes, sir,” you giggle.

You get on your back on the bed and he settles between your thigh, snatching you closer by your ankles. He can tell you’re turned on by his show of strength which isn’t just caused by his vampire powers. He stares deep into your eyes, crimson staring into brown. “I want you to watch yourself take my cock,” he demands. “Think you can do that for me, pretty girl?”

Frantically, you nod, needing more of him. You open your mouth to verbalize that need, but your words turn into a moan as his cock sinks back inside of you. Hiking your knees over his shoulder, he begins to pump his hips forward and back at a fast pace that makes you see the entire fucking galaxy as your fingers play with your clit in an effort to heighten your pleasure.

“Look up,” he demands. You do and grow entranced by the sight of you taking his cock, your legs and pussy spread open by him. But all you see is yourself spread out like a dessert plate reflected in the mirror above. Nanami is nowhere to be found in the mirror. Vampires have no reflection. You’ve never been more turned on in your life seeing your pretty self get fucked like this.

The bedsprings creak and your moans mingle with each other, creating a symphony of sex in the air as the music from the party drifts up from downstairs. Watching your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth fall open on each gasp, whine, and pretty moan is a sight to behold. “Oh, my God, fuck!” You babble. “Yes, Kento, yes! I-I’m so close! I’m gonna—“

Knock, knock.

“Uh…Nanami?” Ino asks.

Your eyes pop open like a cartoon’s and you terrifyingly stare up at Nanami. “Goddammit,” he growls, slowing down to a slower tempo. He presses a finger to his lips to silence you and clears his throat. “What is it?” He barks, unable to hide his irritation. “I’m kinda busy at the moment.”

Ino’s laughter is unmistakable even behind the door. “Oh, we know,” he chuckles. “I’m damn near jealous! Gojo just wanted me to tell you that we’re cuttin’ the cake if you and your girl wants some.”

Your ushy, gushy, velvety pussy clenches around Nanami, milking the cum out of him. “Just wrap it up,” he says, biting back a groan. “I need to finish this first.” He wraps a hand around your throat because he knows that gets you closer, squeezing his fingers around your pretty neck. “Don’t let me stop you,” Ino snorts. “I’ll save you some…oh, and make sure she’s extra loud. Might as well hear her cum.”

Nanami smirks, surprisingly liking that naughty idea. “Will do,” he grunts and proceeds to pound you into the mattress until you’re seeing stars again. Your moans are loud, much to Ino’s liking, as you get closer and closer to your end. Nanami is there too. “Darling,” he rasps, “I’m close. I’m gonna have to bite you soon.”

He can feel his jaw aching, his fangs growing sharper in anticipation of your sweet blood. Your brown eyes grow round with worry. “W-Will it hurt?” You whimper. You look oh-so scared that he nearly melts. “Just a pinch, but I’ll only do it when you finally climax. It’ll make your orgasm more intense…put you in a euphoric state.”

He knows from his own experiences of one-night stands when he was at his most desperate and starved for blood. He is dying to see you in the same dazed, sexy, euphoric state that his one nights were in once they came as he sunk his teeth into their necks. “Is that okay?” He asks, concerned with your comfortability. “I could always just—“

“No!” You cry out, your glossy lips wobbling and your eyes filling with tears from the intense pleasure. “It’s okay, Nanami. I trust you.” Your eyes grow hooded and lustful as you lean your head back on the pillow, exposing your neck and smooth skin to him. “Bite me, sir. I’m all yours.”

Nanami nearly bursts right there. “Oh, baby,” he groans. “You’re gonna make me cum.” He ruts into harder, faster, urging your hand to rub yourself in time with his thrusts. “Cum for me,” you beg through pants. “Please cum with me, Kenny! I’m so close!”

He leans down to tongue-kiss you, swapping saliva and moans as he fucks you over and over and over again. He then pulls away to stare down at you, falling deep into the chocolate pools of your eyes. “Look into my eyes, baby,” he whispers. “Cum with me.”

He knows that the hypnosis has kicked in when your expression softens and your eyes grow glazed as you stare up at him. It only takes a few more thrusts for you to finally reach your peak. With a high-pitched moan, you finally gush all around Nanami’s cock, your walls clenching around him tighter than a vice.

As you cum, Nanami swoops down to tongue down once he feels himself cumming too. He vigorously thrusts into you, chasing his high until he lets out a groan as he shoots his load inside of you, filling you up to the brim with his warm cum. You gasp into the sloppy kiss, filling absolutely full.

Nanami feels himself losing control, all grips on his humanity leaving him. “Give me your neck,” he growls, his voice dipping so low that he barely sounds like himself. Without a confirmation or the green light, he swoops down to sink his teeth into your soft, brown flesh.

A weak moan leaves your lips as you flinch from the pain, but then your body begins to writhe in pleasure as his bite takes you to a pleasurable, almost euphoric place. You arch your back and press yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer.

Nanami sucks your blood like a parched man in the desert, your sweet blood coating his teeth, tongue and lips. He can feel your energy and life force enter him, making him feel like he can touch the fucking moon. He grows addicted with each slurp, your blood drugging him. “K-Kento!” you gasp. “O-Oh!”

He is aware that he’s been sucking for too long and you start to feel uncomfortable. “Just a little more,” he grunts. “Just a little bit more, baby.” His tongue bathes the bite marks in saliva that numbs the sting and makes your pulse stop jumping.

Once he finally finishes, he pulls away and licks the rest of your blood off of his lips. You lay beneath him, panting and dazed. “You okay?” He worriedly asks. “Was it too much?”

you shake your head, still looking as if you just did too many drugs and you’re crashing. “No, m’just…dizzy,” you mutter.

Quickly, Nanami springs into action. He tells you to lay there before jumping off of the bed and racing to the bathroom…butt naked. He doesn’t give a fuck if anyone sees him. His priority is YOU.

Luckily, no one does and he returns with aftercare essentials: a glass of water, a towel soaked in warm water, and body oil. He doesn’t want to know why Gojo and Geto have that. When he returns, he finds you halfway asleep and nearly laughs. ‘Poor baby,’ he thinks. He tuckered you out.

“Drink slow,” Nanami says, pressing the glass to your lips. You lean up and slowly sip the water, humming in appreciation. Once you’ve had enough, he sets the drink side and wipes you down before rubbing some oil between his palms.

He then proceeds to massage your body, paying close attention to your hips and legs. You melt beneath his calloused hands, your smile lopsided and lazy. Once he finishes with that, he lays next to you and scoops you into him, making you the little spoon. “That’s it, darling, just relax. You did so, so well for me.” He presses a soft kiss to your cheek, gently stroking your back.

“Good,” you happily sigh. “I’m happy.” You pop your head up to look up at him, smiling. “Now let’s snuggle before we go get that cake!”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. How could he be blessed with such a wonderful gift such as you? “Thank you for accepting me, darling,” he whispers. “I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend.”

He nuzzles into your sweet-smelling hair, making you giggle. “And I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend,” you happily sigh, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re so sweet and sexy and—wait, is this gonna turn me into a vampire too?!”

You sit up straight and look at him wide-eyed, terror in your eyes. He nearly laughs. You’re like a little cartoon character. “No, darling,” he chuckles, easing your fear. “All I did was suck your blood. I’d never turn you without your permission.” Though the idea of spending eternity as vampires with you doesn’t sound too bad.

“Oh…well, that’s a relief!” You sigh, lying back down with him and proceeding to snuggle him in Gojo and Geto’s bed. “Though I would make a cute little vampire, wouldn’t I?”

“Yes,” he laughs. “Yes, you would. But you’d be cute in any form, my darling.”

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #black coded reader #my one shots #nanami x black!reader #daddy nanami #black writers #jjk smut #vampire nanami #monster kink #tw monsterfucking #my works #nanami x black y/n #nanami x fem!reader #bimbo reader #Youtube

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tinytennisskirt · 5 months ago

Note

You and Patrick leave the restaurant on your one month anniversary. You’re both standing outside his car, he says he loves you for the first time. You try to distract him with a bunch of kisses and what not but he notices and questions it. Why didn’t you say it back? He’s all like what are you doing? Do you love him back? or Is it just too early to tell? But you’ve already been dating for a month! You didn’t say it back.

Those Three Words

Summary: as above^ When patrick meets the pretty bartender, his bachelor days are over. reader and patrick quickly become friends, good friends. and after a tipsy confession and a perfect kiss, they start dating. it's new, it's weird, but it's so easy to be in love with you. not as easy to tell you, though. (it turns out more than okay, i promise)

warnings: mentions of drinking. kissing. mentions of sex. angst... hurt/comfort silliness. player pat! turned loverboy! such a good moment for him. also i changed one month to two, i hope you don't mind!

It was different with you. Patrick knew that. You were the girl who put the habits of a casual man to rest. You came into his life, or rather he came into yours ordering a Redbull and two shots of Jaeger from the bar you were working and you looked at him a little oddly, with a cute smile questioning why he didn’t just order a Jaeger bomb. He was out with Art, but his attention stayed on you for the rest of the night. He drank way too much, returning to the bar and asking you for drinks just as an excuse to talk to you more. He emptied his wallet.

Art had to drag him out and into a taxi, practically shoving him in while he talked about you like a wasted white girl. He woke up the next morning with a killer headache and surprisingly, most of his memories of you, though they were a little altered by the alcohol. He called Art, asking him about the night only to be filled in that he spent it flirting with you. So he was fucked, he deducted. No chance.

But a few nights later he and Art went back and surprise, you were working again. Patrick usually had it in his head that going out and drinking at bars was for finding women to go home with, but his eyes fell on you and he knew he had to say something. So he walked up the bar, eyeing you in your black t-shirt with a neckline that dipped enough for cleavage paired with your little black skirt. “You again,” you smiled, seeing him approach. Oh fuck, you were as pretty as he remembered. “Glad to see you alive and well.”

He grinned, sitting at the bar, hands folding in front of him. “Thanks.” He smirked a little.

“What can I get you?” You grinned. He ordered two drinks and to Art’s annoyance, struck up a conversation with you. You were funny and you were interesting and probably one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever spoken to. He tried not to overdrink again just to speak to you, but after helping every customer, you’d come back on your own. Patrick didn’t know what exactly it was about you because no matter the fact his eyes fell on your chest every now and then, he was genuinely hearing what you were saying about Depeche Mode. He just leaned toward you as you spoke and listened.

Art came up behind him later that night saying he was heading out and begrudgingly, Patrick went with him. You passed him the bill and he opened it to a napkin with your number. A win. A big win. He looked up and you were helping another customer, too busy to say anything to you about it. But he paid in cash and left a $30 tip on top of it. And he left a happy and tipsy man.

He waited until morning to text you.

'Hey. Patrick from the bar. How r u?’

You got back to him surprisingly quickly, 'Hungryyyy. You?' You were a perfect woman. He was a simple man.

‘About the same.’

You messaged back again, ‘Breakfast???’ followed by ‘You know the cafe off main? I’ll be there in 15’. You were asking him out? Or… to breakfast? Fuck, either way, he’d take it. He messaged back, said he’d be there, and bolted out of bed and into the shower. He let his hair air dry and slipped on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt for the chilliness of the morning and soon he was on the street walking there, trying to be on time. He met you on the corner. You knew it was bad when he met a girl and liked her when she was half-dressed only to look at her fully clothed and could say to himself he liked her more. That was you in your sweater and jeans, hair down, comfy and honestly kind of cute. At the bar you were hot, but here you were cute.

“Good morning,” you smiled at him. What was ‘other women’? What did those words even mean? “You bounce back so well after a night of drinking there’s no way I’d be out of bed at nine in the morning after so many shots.” You smiled. “Hi, Patrick.”

“Good morning,” he replied, hands in his pockets. “And hi,” He smirked a little as you lead him into the cafe wordlessly. You ordered a croissant and iced coffee and lead him to sit down with you. “So, you’re an early riser?”

“Sometimes. If I’m honest I wouldn’t be up this early, but my landlord is doing construction and it’s hectic and loud. I’m lucky if I sleep at all, it’s all hours.” You spoke to him like you’d known him forever. It was cute. You told him all about your apartment situation, how you’re pretty sure your landlord pervs on you and he just sat and listened, happily drinking his Americano.

And it started from there, the slow burn. You hadn’t said anything inherently romantic, but he was content with being your friend if it meant he got to be around you. You’d text a lot, becoming fast friends with similar tastes in music and movies. You were spontaneous and sometimes a little loud, but he really liked that about you. You’d hang out frequently, sometimes multiple days in a row. Sometimes his place and sometimes yours. You liked candy and going to thrift stores and you had a record collection. You’d give him free shots at the bar when you had shifts. He’d show up. Soon you were close to calling him your best friend and it was dawning on Patrick that when women hit on him, he was rejecting them. Supermodel-type women were coming up to him, flirting, and he was shutting them down. He knew he liked you and he knew it was different. It felt like having a crush, something he hadn’t felt since he was back at MRTA, a kid.

You ruffled his hair and his ears would go a little pink. He’d flirt with you just the same and sometimes you’d flirt back in good fun, but oh my god, he was head over heels for you. Only you. One singular woman who he had not slept with. He was devoted and completely in it. It was so out of character for him.

“She’s it,” he said to Art as he paced the living room, energy drink in hand. “She’s got me tangled in her web, there’s no out and for the first time in my life I don’t want one.”

Art watched his best friend, his eyebrows raised, decently pleased. “Should get your head checked.”

“I’m dead serious. I think about her when she’s not around, that’s some sort of sign.” Art did all he could not to laugh at the very normal things Patrick was talking about. “She says things and I remember them. For more than ten minutes.”

“Quick, what’s her name?”

“Okay, shut the fuck up, you’re no help,” Patrick groaned, flopping back into the armchair behind him. His finger spun the rim of the can he held. The expression on his face could only be described as a mixture of defeat and being plain old grumpy. He was grumpy over you. “I think I like her.”

Art grinned at Patrick’s confession, knowing the last time he heard Patrick say he liked anyone was back in ninth grade. “So tell her.”

“I might.” Patrick nodded. As different as things were with you, he would rather tell you than not. He didn’t like the idea that he had genuine feelings, but you were you, so it was fitting. And he had already made plans with you to meet up at a different bar later that night. One with more of a club-like vibe. So he figured it was as good a time as any to tell you- he wasn’t really well-versed in genuine feelings so maybe it wasn’t the best, but he had to tell you somehow.

He picked you up in his car, Art in the back seat. You and Art had been acquainted through Patrick, obviously, and you smiled, greeting them both. Patrick’s eyes fell on the length of your skirt, short. Your thighs were on full display, legs extending into tall boots that matched the colour of your t-shirt. You were hot, it was becoming a problem.

“How the fuck do I say anything when fifteen guys are hitting on her at once?” Patrick said to Art over the music. Art grabbed Patrick’s upper arm, chuckling.

He was a little out of it, buzzed off nicotine. “Kiss her.” He shrugged.

“I’m not kissing her,” Patrick replied. “I have to ask first.”

Art wasn’t so sure about Patrick’s genuine feelings but Patrick, two shots in, was saying he had to ask? Instead of just hitting on a girl and leaning in? Art believed him entirely now. “Fuck. I don’t know.”

“You’re good with girls!”

“So are you!”

“Other girls!” Patrick reasoned. “Ones that will go home with me if I buy them a drink. Not her. How the fuck am I supposed to do this? I just say it? How do you do this with every girl you like? It’s all this? All the time?” He was wigging out a little. It was something new for sure. He wasn’t used to any of this. You’d been friends for six months and you were over on the dancefloor, just a little tipsy, swaying, somewhat ignoring the men who were trying to talk to you, trying to dance with you. He figured there was nothing he could do but accept the fact he was twenty-something with full-on butterflies in his stomach. Art just chuckled and walked away to get Patrick another drink in case things went wrong.

He thought telling you would be easy, but every time he started toward you, he couldn’t follow through. He’d start overthinking his wording. He’d get interrupted by some other girl who he all but told to fuck off. He was stressing badly. And a new feeling crept up watching these guys come up to you in your short skirt and your low-cut t-shirt. It was something he also hadn’t felt in ages and it was just… jealousy. He was jealous, he was sick and completely riddled with it. A couple of guys who came and went grabbed your hips or your waist and his stomach did a genuine flip before the slight anger kicked in. He just stood, bitter, watching, unable to move. Moving meant telling you. Staying still meant you were free to be touched by other guys and this wasn’t easy at all.

You walked over, standing in front of him, a little displeased, “You asked me to come out and you’re standing there, glaring at me.” You sighed, arms folded over your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, eyes elsewhere. And he only looked back at you when you started laughing. It was a pretty laugh that he often replayed in his head.

“Oh my god, you’re jealous!” You teased.

He got defensive, “Of what? Of who?”

“I don’t know, of the guys out there? You’re jealous they get to dance with me.”

“Why the fuck would I be jealous of them?” He chuckled, leaning back against the bar. “It’s not like it’s a rarity. You dance with everyone.”

“I think you really secretly want to dance with me,” you nodded, narrowing your eyes at him. You even went so far as to point a finger. Patrick just rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so jealous, you can’t even deny it anymore. C’mon gorgeous, we are dancing.” Your hand slipped into his as you pulled him into the crowd. For a guy that could pull any woman with just a simple lean toward them, he was more than surprised by the stunt you were pulling in pulling him closer. It was a little shameless, the way you were close to him. Closer than you’d danced with any of the previous guys- you’d been dodging them, no matter how much they got to touch without asking.

You made him a stiff. He’d be into it if it meant nothing, but it didn’t and it couldn’t. But that didn’t stop you. It couldn’t. You grinned at his closeness and frankly, he was a little flustered. Out of his character, so fucking far out of it. But he could get into it when you reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, dancing much too closely for it to be nothing. It was like slow motion, something out of a movie, the pink and purple lights cascading over your body pressed to his. The bass of the song moving through his body, hands on your waist, kept there without being shoved off by you. Welcomed, really. You were so close he could have kissed you, but something in him told him not to. Not like this. Not here. Art was over at the bar, snapping a few pictures on his phone, laughing to himself as he shoved it into his pocket.

Patrick, completely consumed by the way you were looking at him, felt surprisingly cold when you spun out of his grasp, grinning. He let his hands fall, just a little dumbstruck by what the fuck that just was. It was quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. You during the day was so different from you in night-life. You were mesmerizing, easy to watch as you spun back to him. “Feeling better?” You grinned. And you left him, going back to dancing alone. Patrick, god of arrogance and quips, was left speechless.

He walked back over to Art, mouth a little open. “What the fuck.”

“You tell her?”

“No,” Patrick was almost bitter in rebuttal. He sank into the bar stool and ordered another drink.

“I think she knows,” he grinned over at Patrick who downed the drink in one fell gulp.

“You think?” He paused for a moment and exhaled. “Fuck.”

The night died down. You were hungry and Art was pretty done with the place. Patrick carried your boots as you walked barefoot down the sidewalk back to the car, fries from the chip truck in hand. Patrick paid. He didn’t mind. You shared with both boys and Art drove back to Patrick’s apartment. He was going to crash at his, sleep in the living room. So were you, apparently. The three of you took the elevator up. Art said goodnight, jumping over the back of the couch and onto it. It was pretty much enough to ban you both to Patrick’s room.

Patrick dropped your boots by the door and went to his room as you finished your fries and went to go brush your teeth. He went through his clothes, grabbing you some loose t-shirt and shorts he knew wouldn’t be too big on you. He dropped them to you in the bathroom wordlessly and went to go sit on his bed with some water, trying to level out.

You emerged a few minutes later in his clothes, your skirt and t-shirt in a ball in your hand, tossed by your boots. “Thank you,” you smiled, sitting on the bed with him. “So, how are you feeling?” You asked, stealing a sip of his water.

“Decent,” he replied. “Didn’t drink enough, apparently.”

“Apparently not,” you smiled, handing the water back. He finished it and tossed the solo cup he’d used into the trash next to his bed. “So are we going to talk about it, or are we just going to bed?”

Patrick didn’t see that coming. He straightened out, his heart picking up just a little. “Hm?”

“Patrick…” you trailed off, leaning just a little bit forward. “You like me, hm?”

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t say no, but not confessing felt wrong. “Yeah, I like you. We’re friends.”

“Ooh, ouch,” you smiled. It was probably the most gorgeous smile he’d ever seen. “Friendzoned.”

Patrick smirked a little, “You’re still drunk.”

“Tipsy, baby. Tipsy.” You nodded. His eyes fell on your lips and the way his shirt slipped off your shoulder. “But you know what I mean, Pat. I think, and I have reason to believe you like me. Tell me I’m wrong?”

He chuckled to himself, looking at his hands, the door, you. He tsked, shaking his head. “I can’t.” He admitted. He said it. You had defeated the player in him.

“Thought so.” Your smile was a little bit evil. “So if I kissed you right now, what would you do?”

His smirk grew just a little bit bigger and he moved just a little bit closer to you and you moved just a little bit closer to him. The tension was thick. You watched his eyes meet yours, then your lips, back to your eyes. “Not sure. Just have to find out, I guess.”

“I guess,” you grinned, leaning in the rest of the way, meeting him in the middle. The quiet of his room was quieter and the kiss was slow and passionate. Patrick’s hand on the back of your neck, yours resting on his chest. He kissed you with no intention of anything more or anything less. He even kissed you without tongue- for the first few minutes, after that he figured it was game when you were both lying on your side, just kissing. It was perfect and it was the least hungry kiss he’d possibly ever had.

It was a good fifteen minutes of slow, yet passionate kisses and it tapered off with small kisses, something Patrick had never experienced before. You kissed him a few last times, short and sweet and it was possibly his favourite part of the whole thing. Next to the fact he kissed the pretty bartender he’d had feelings for since the night he met her. You held his face after, he was just a little breathless despite the calm of the kissing.

“Patrick.”

“Yeah?”

“I like you. I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled.

“I think I caught that,” he grinned like an asshole. You’d never been more into him. You gently tapped his arm. All of this, the talking, the everything, was new. And perfect. “How long is ‘a while’?” You hit him a little harder and he just kept grinning. The words he said were so foreign. “I like you too.” You smiled wide, looking quite proud of yourself. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you said. And you went back to kissing.

Patrick had no problem with saying you were his girlfriend. You’d decided that’s who you were when Patrick later found that you’d changed your name in his contacts to it. He told Art everything, talking about how he’d been missing out this entire time on kissing without sex. The feeling was new and exciting and Art clapped him on the back, trying not to laugh too much at the fact Patrick was a little crazy. But the craze died down.

Seeing you, kissing you, came so naturally to him it stopped being something of wonder, though he never really felt different about it. You were his first serious girlfriend in years. He was a pretty good boyfriend too. He was over all the time still, with the addition of being able to call you beautiful whenever he wanted to. He took a lot of pleasure in telling guys at the bar to fuck off when they tried to buy you drinks. He was a little possessive but in the hot way, not the controlling gross way. He liked that you wore short skirts when you went out, guys could look, they could try, but it was him who fucked you in the car before heading back home.

The sex was beyond good. Crazy good. But never the main focus. Patrick took a crazy liking to the fact you kissed his forehead and it was possibly the best feeling in the world when you fell asleep with your head on his chest. He was so serious about you. And he was more than head over heels for you.

It progressed pretty quickly due to the fact both you and Patrick had feelings for each other for a good while before properly dating. Look at Patrick, he was into you from the very day he met you.

“I think I’m going to order chinese,” you said from the kitchen. Patrick swung around the corner as you picked up the phone, looking over the menu. “The regular?” He nodded, enjoying his semi-domestic privileges, seeing you without makeup in his kitchen in his clothes. You hopped up on the counter and dialed the number as Patrick came to stand in front of you, hands resting on your hips. “Hi, I’d like to place an order for del-” Patrick, cheeky, kissed your neck, “- delivery.” You giggled a little nervously. You were so cute up on his counter he couldn’t not. “I’d like the four-piece…” You really tried getting through the order, pausing your order to kiss him quickly twice, trying to get him off you, but it didn’t quite work. “I’m sorry,” you said to the man on the other end of the line. “I want-” You couldn’t escape his kisses to your jaw. “Sorry-” You hung up the phone and Patrick picked you up off the counter and you hit the bed just moments later.

You had turned him into someone he didn’t know he could be. And it didn’t feel like he wasn’t himself. In fucking you, he had words at the tip of his tongue to melt into his string of praise for you, your body, the way you felt and those words were, ‘i love you’.

You were breathing hard, your head resting on his chest. “Couldn’t even let me order? I’m so hungry.” You sighed happily. Patrick was staring at the ceiling wondering how the fuck he loved you. That was a strong word. He’d only dated you for nearly two months. Your hand gently caressed his chest, his stomach, tracing patterns. No way he was in love with you so early on. But in reality, it wasn’t that early. He’d known you for eight months, liked you and only you for all of it, it made sense but the way it snuck up on him was crazy. So crazy he didn’t even tell Art about it. He just internalized it.

When two months rolled around, he scraped together a little more money than he really had on his budget and surprised you by taking you somewhere nice. It wasn’t a big anniversary, but for him, it was an achievement. Even Art was surprised, respectfully, that he’d made it so far.

“So the retrograde is one of the most dangerous times in a year because no matter who you are or what you’re doing, something is bound to change for you and it’s usually something drastic.” You said, eating your food. He was thinking one thing and those three words just echoed around his head. “Patrick?”

“Exes come back, no travel,” he nodded, showing you he was listening. You smiled and he was only thinking about how perfect you were.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, stealing a fry off of his plate. Of course, at a nice place like this, Patrick still ordered a burger. “You’re all quiet. Not that I mind it.” You giggled just a little. He had the cutest girlfriend, he knew that. He had the cutest girlfriend and he was in love with her. You.

“I’ve never had a two-month anniversary before.” He admit, his elbows on the table. Your eyes widened just a little. He smirked just a bit. “No mocking.”

“Me? I would never,” you said, shooting him a sly grin. You let the slyness dissipate, eyes growing sweet and genuine. “I’m glad it's us.”

“Me too.” He nodded. For the first time in his life, he was sure of something and it was you. You were here with him and it was all still new, but god, it was great. He had a perfect, funny, sexy, gorgeous, and smart girlfriend and he didn’t even have to travel to a parallel universe to master commitment. Patrick being Patrick wouldn’t get too mushy on you, wouldn’t tell you that he found it a little surreal to be across from you in your black velvet dress. Across from a girl who he never really thought he would have or sleep next to. This girl who is literally always there, no matter what or which home he goes back to at the end of the day. You were his best friend. But he wouldn’t say any of that shit. The difference was that he felt it, not that he turned into a sap.

He was feeling a lot. He gladly paid for dinner. “Thank you. It was really really sweet for you to do this.” You said, slipping your hand into his. Your hand was smaller than his was and you were somehow always just a little bit colder than he was. The two of you headed out into the parking lot, where you leaned against his car, still holding his hand, even when he pulled out a cigarette. You were so gorgeous bathed in the neon purple of the restaurant sign. The bustle of busy streets nearby was white noise. He let you have the first drag, he always did. Your fingers stayed intertwined with his and you looked at him in a way he really hadn’t ever been looked at. He couldn’t believe he’d never committed to a girl when he looked at how things were with you. You were perfect, entirely, head to toe and inside and out. He couldn’t believe how much time he’d wasted meaninglessly when looking at one person just felt so right.

You blew the smoke in his face, a running joke about the first time you’d smoked together and he did it to you. You never let it go. Eternal payback, you called it. You giggled as he raised his eyebrows at you, taking the cigarette as you passed it to him. The silence, or near-silence was comfortable. It wasn’t traced with lust, it wasn’t dripping in alcohol, it couldn’t ever mean nothing, It couldn’t ever be nothing, even while being silence. “You’re pretty,” Patrick said unprovoked, inhaling and turning his head to blow the smoke into the breeze. It wasn’t entirely unprovoked. It was you.

“Stop it, I’m blushing.” You grinned back at him. Your thumb grazed back and forth on the back of the hand that you held tight. You pretended to tuck your hair behind your ear in a mock-nervous manner. “Truth is… I have a huge crush on you.”

“No way,” Patrick said, coughing just the slightest bit, smoke leaking out his lips. He smirked with that gorgeous, sly fox kind of grin, his dimple in full view. You pulled him into a kiss by the hand that you held, the taste of smoke on both of your lips, both of you smiling into it. Your hands only unlocked for his hand to slide around your waist and pull you close whilst your hand went to his jaw. Your back pressed to the door of his car. He swore he could never get sick of kissing you. Spontaneously, the way you liked. Sometimes to shut you up or to make you stop laughing so much. He pretended like you annoyed him, and kissed you to keep you quiet. Kissing you in his kitchen, on the couch, in front of the men who wanted you soooo badly. Intimate kissing, kissing with the intention of sex, or just a kiss to your temple or cheek in passing on the way out the door. He felt it almost overwhelmingly. Those three words were on the tip of the tongue that was currently slipping into your mouth.

You pulled him closer, that cigarette still burning in his opposite hand that he held away from you. He was never this kind of guy, he had never felt this way in his life. The kiss slowed just a little to your occasional few short and sweet kisses and he had the space to, so those words tipped off his tongue. “I love you.” He said. He didn’t plan it, but they fell out and into the space between you. He must have seemed like the biggest, most pathetic red flag in the world. But he said what he meant. He loved you. He’d never loved anyone. He’d never said that to anyone in a romantic context. He wasn’t sure of anything about this situation but he was sure he meant it.

Telling you put him into a limbo of vulnerability that he didn’t foresee. Your heart skips a beat. It’s so early on, there’s no way you heard him right. There’s no way he just said what he said, not tonight, not at two months. You weren’t prepared or ready or expecting it at all. Especially from him, who had sweet things to say but they were rare and usually perfectly imperfect. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? Panic spread into your chest, anxiety to follow. He said ‘I love you’, Patrick Zweig told you he loved you. Here. Now. And without thinking, you kiss him. It’s a stronger kiss, you’re kissing him as the emotions bubble up inside you, threatening to boil over. You’re hoping to drown out his words. Did he mean them? Did he mean them the way you would potentially want?

You kissed him again and again, over and over, tongue and everything, and the air is filled with only that. No words, only that. The cigarette slowly burned out on the ground, and both of your hands cupped his face, his jaw, keeping him close, keeping his mouth steadily on yours. You’re filling your mouth with him, no words, nothing else but kissing him hard. The pauses in between only for breaths, nothing more. You go to kiss him again, but his head moves backward, out of your reach, pulling back from you.

You stepped forward, chasing his lips, trying to kiss him again, but he moved backward. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice laced with hurt. You’ve never heard him in this tone before. You tried to kiss him again, but he gently stopped your hands from having their leverage. “Hey- stop. What are you doing?” He repeated.

Your lower lip settled between your teeth. “I- I don’t know.” You replied, flustered. Your nose is pink and your eyes are apologetic. Patrick feels his chest tighten. He’s never felt that before in his life, it feels a bit like he can’t breathe. He can’t tell how your mind is racing over what to do, what to say. He can’t read you other than knowing you didn’t say it back.

“You don’t know?” His eyebrows are furrowed and his face is close to yours and your hands are resting flat on his chest. “Y/N.”

“I know.” You replied pressing a hand to your face. It’s too early. This was too early. This was so soon, you couldn’t know if you loved him yet, it was so soon. You’d be lying to say you loved him back and you just couldn’t do that to him or to yourself. His face was full of hurt, his heart was beating against his ribcage. He said it with a conviction, with a sureness that was hard for him to find. He couldn’t muster those words on the phone with his mom but he said them to you. Here. Now. “I’m sorry.”

His face was still close to yours. His big hands removed yours from your face, seeking some sort of answer that wasn’t an apology. How could he have said that and your response is to say, ‘I know, I’m sorry’? What the fuck was that? Did you love him? Could you?

“You didn’t say it back,” he said, keeping his voice clear and steady. He wants to say those three words again, but he won’t now. Part of him, another new, undiscovered piece of him is fucking terrified. “Y’know, that’s fine, it’s-” he pulls away from you entirely.

You step after him again, feeling the guilt knot in your chest, “No, Patrick- I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I want to go home, let's go home.” He says. He’s putting up that front of his. He had never felt physical pain from anything emotional in his life. Never. Not once. So the fact your lack of words felt like a winding punch to the chest was pretty fucking distressing. He wasn’t actually sure what the protocol was when a person said an unreciprocated ‘I love you’, he’d never been in this situation before. He just knew that it hurt. And this was probably why he’d never committed to anyone before. To avoid this. This pain in his chest that was so fucking stupid and pointless.

“Patrick,” you pleaded, practically chasing him as he walked around the car to the driver’s side. “Hey, stop-” He doesn’t. “Stop! Please. Patrick. Patrick.”

His voice was just a little harsh. “Yeah?” He opened the car door, turning to you.

You looked up at him, a little desperate to be heard over the hurt you knew he was feeling. The guilt of it was actively eating at you. “It was just so soon. I didn’t see it coming, it’s only been two months.”

“I know.” He replied, expression seeming cold, but surprisingly soft. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Patrick, stop. I can’t lie to you and say I’m there yet, but I want it more than anything. And I just need time.” You explained just a little frantically. “I’m not ready.”

He sighed, looking out over the parking lot. He shook his head and looked back at you. “I’ve never said that to anyone. I’ve never loved anyone. Not like this. I didn’t think I could. Or would. But it’s you, so I’m fucked, aren’t I? Spoke too soon, I guess.”

“No, Patrick, it was perfect. God, I hate that I can’t say it back yet. Key word is ‘yet’, because I absolutely adore you and I care about you so much, there’s nobody on this earth that I want to love more, but it’s so early on. I guess I’m scared. What if you don’t mean it?”

“I love you.”

“What if you stop meaning it?”

“I love you.”

“What if we are rushing into this?”

“I’ve liked you since you first smiled at me, you drove me crazy, Art said I needed my head checked. You with your stupid low-cut shirt and you smiling at me and I was done. No more girls, no more numbers in my phone, just you. You and your astrology bullshit, you and your collection of sweaters, and your perving landlord. You. I’ve never felt like this ever, I’ve never been more sure of anything because nothing has ever scared me this much in my entire life. I mean it, I’ll continue to mean it if you let me, and I know I’m not rushing into anything because however long you think I’ve liked you, it’s so much fucking longer.” He stated. He sounded angry, but he really wasn’t. He had never had that many words, let alone words he fully and wholeheartedly and somehow poetically meant. This was how he knew you were different. You’d killed a bachelor. A good one. One who had been at it for years.

You smiled like you were relieved. It was a sweet smile, like the one that you’d sported when he first ordered a drink from you. “You mean all of that?”

“Don’t make me say it again, please,” he chuckled just a little, crooked smile coming back. “Yes, I mean it. It freaked me out, I feel like I’ve been possessed by the spirit of the guy who sings Careless Whisper, but it’s all me.” Your smile grew wider. He bat you off, shaking his head again. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you smiled. “Patrick… I am going to love you. I am actively falling in love with you, it’s terrifying, but it’s thrilling and I don’t want to stop. I just need a little more time.”

He nodded, looking down at his feet. You stepped closer, cupping his face. One of the many intimacies he’d never known until you. Soft hands on his face. “I didn’t know I had so many emotions I feel like…”

“Don’t joke.” You said. He honestly couldn’t anyway, looking at you. His smile fell to something neutral, eyes looking over your face, your perfect features. Whether you loved him back yet or not, he was lucky to have you.

“Don’t take too long,” He said solemnly, meeting your eyes. But the expression only lasted a few seconds before his arrogant little smirk crept back up. “If you don’t say it back in time I’m going to turn into a girl.”

You laughed, “Oh please.”

“It’s true.” He nodded. “Very serious thing that happens.”

“Patrick.”

“Yeah?”

“You remember when I started giving you free shots? Earlier that night, you were over at mine and you were eating Skittles and you ate all of the ones I don’t like out of the bag. And it kind of hit me that you were…that I liked you. A lot. It’s so much worse than yours. But it was then on. That’s ‘a while’.”

He grinned at your callback, laughing at how stupid that was. He grimaced just a little, smile unchanging. “Skittles?”

“Skittles.” You replied, nodding. He pushed your hair behind your ears and pulled you into another kiss. One that wasn’t trying to drown anything out. Gentle hands in a gentle, perfect, feeling-filled kiss. Patrick truly didn’t know he had so many things to feel. And it was all for you. He’d been getting used to this sort of thing. It might have been the best thing to ever happen to him. He wasn’t changed in any way that truly mattered, but when it came to you, he was completely turned off to the idea of having it any other way. You kissed him back and he felt like he finally had done something right, which was lacking for him in all areas of his life.

“I feel myself turning-” you kissed him again. “-into a girl.”

“We’ll go bra shopping,” you said, kissing him again.

“That would make you-” you kissed him once more. “-bisexual.”

“Then we’re truly a match made in heaven.” You teased. He kissed you hard one more time for good measure before really getting into the car and driving home. He knew you’d come around sometime. Didn’t stop him from feeling the way he did at all.

It was just an odd Tuesday two months later, Patrick had the laundry basket in his hands, holding the door for you as you grabbed your keys and your wallet. He was going to the laundromat, you were going to work. “You’ll come visit me later?” You asked, heading out the door.

“Yeah, around eight.” He nodded, leaning in and kissing you goodbye. “Mmm- Bye.”

“Bye, Patrick. I love you.” You smiled as you walked ahead to press the elevator button for him, hopping down the stairs. You were gone in a flash, leaving him where he was, grinning what was probably the widest he’d ever smiled. He shook his head, laughing quietly to himself as he got in the elevator. He’d see you at eight.

taglist: @swetearss @lalalandofive @ladystardust-thinks @kaaaiiaaa @xoxog0ssipg1rl @reallycreativeusername @bayleequits

#challengers #patrick zweig #challengers x reader #tinytennisskirt #patrick zweig angst #patrick zweig hurt/comfort #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig fluff #challengers fic #patrick zweig fic

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mollyeep · 5 months ago

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❤️‍🔥emergency commissions❤️‍🔥

hi!! i need people to see this im depserately looking for a way out of this big dump but ive just thrown myself in a bigger hole that i now need to cover up :,3

im sorry i have no photos.... i crashed my car yesterday and the fendor aswell as the A-frame is now broken on the right side aswell as the side mirror's top and the flood light, i am unable to drive to drive the car now because of the fendor being pushed against the wheel

sorry this is rushed as theres just been a lot going on these past few days, so ive decided to reopen commissions please dont get mad at me if i dont respond the same day ive literally been wiping ass these past few days so sorry :,3

sketched piece (messy lineart but still colored) - $15

Fullbody - $20

Headshot - $15

extra shading/colored lineart - $5

(if there is an extra character in one piece i will charge additional $10. sorry.)

tips r highly appreciated!!!!!!!!!!

(heres some of my art, i dont have any specific pieces with the exact commissions i have set up but i hope this is enough to prove im worthy :,))

#emergency commissions #commissions #art #warrior cats

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brilium · 1 year ago

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❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 2. Voyeurism! with Mikasa Ackerman

Summary. Your organized roommate hates your messy ways to live but, a little mistake with the closet door might lead her to break those walls on her.

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, fingering, masturbation (f. recieving), pillow riding, slight corruption kink i guess?

Word count. 2,236.

Author's note. I'm posting it so late i'm sorry:( I had it prepared but i was so busy all day:(((

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Mikasa always tries to keep her side of the dorm all clean and tidy, maybe with some socks here and there but she has some firm boundaries after being an only child all her life.

Her skincare is carefully placed in a small tray in a corner of the bathroom, always trying to not splash out too much water and her bed has to be strictly done just after cleaning her face to change into the clothes she prepared previously the night before.

Is not that her parents weren’t really strict, she was actually very organized since she was a child.

Meanwhile, her roommate was…

Not the total opposite, but there was a considerable difference between their lifestyles.

If Mikasa is the kind of girl who wakes up early to get ready in time, you’re the kind who goes to sleep when her alarm is about to ring in half an hour because you pulled another all nighter working on assignments.

When she brings her clean laundry smelling like lavanda to fold it, the first thing she sees when she opens the door is you swearing between your teeths because you accidentally dropped an oil paint on your bed sheets… Again.

She doesn’t hate you, you both actually get along pretty well. But there’s a small hint of annoyance every time she’s calmly reading on her bed and you open the door in your jumpsuit stained with paint of every color, it is in the small dried drops on your face what makes her entire body chill like she just saw a giant spider coming through the door.

In one of her psychology classes she learned about Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and she’s starting to think that she’s getting that thanks to her Arts Major roommate.

One day, while you are probably in class, she’s checking her jackets in the closet if she left one of her favorite lipsticks on the bags. The closet of the dorm need a little maintenance because you both always complain about how it always stucks when you try to open it, so when she gets on the tips of her toes to look inside because the door is not sliding more to the side, her foot slips and makes her fall inside and the door violently slips to close with a “click”.

“No, wait!” Her fingers try to get through the border between the door and the frame to slide it, but it’s even harder from inside without anything to grab it and pull. She tries to scratch it and pull but nothing works.

She sighs resigned and looks on the bags of her jeans to grab her phone but there’s nothing. The soft sound of her ringtone coming from her bed calls her attention, causing her to rest her forehead in the rails of the closet as she whines.

Finally, after trying all to open the door and failing in the try, she sits uncomfortably on the floor hugging her knees around the jackets and shoes that you both save inside. There’s even a shirt of yours on the floor beside her. Mikasa takes a look at it to, obviously, find stains of paint.

She grabs it to look at it but the sound of the dorm door opening startles her.

She calls you out for help but the music blasting through your headphones isn’t helping. Mikasa raises her hands into fists to hit the closet and get your attention, but her movements get interrupted by the surprise of seeing how you lift that baggy shirt above your head and toss it somewhere around the dorm.

By living in the same dorm, you both are used to seeing each other in underwear, so she is not surprised at the sight of you undressing. It’s the fact that you chose to not wear any bra today, so your bare tits are displaying right in front of her eyes.

Mikasa has seen herself naked a lot of times, but there's something on how your breasts are slightly different to hers.

They seem so soft and the way they bounce everytime you move around is so hypnotizing, it’s until Mikasa blinks when she notices how her eyeballs are starting to get dry from staring so much.

Her cheeks get red immediately and tries to shake the thought away in embarrassment when you disconnect the headphones, bringing her back to reality.

It’s now, she has to hit the closet now to get your attention and you’ll finally put something on to cover yourself.

Don’t you think that someone might see you through the window?

Or someone inside the closet?

But, Mikasa keeps still when she observes in detail how you also get rid of your leggings.

She has to cover her mouth with her hands to hide her gasp.

You’re facing your back to the closet, so she can see perfectly how your ass bends over in her direction, showing how good that cream color lace lingerie grabs tightly to your cheeks.

No, no, she can’t be enjoying this. That's gross.

Her breathing is getting heavier as she tries to ignore the wet spot forming in her clean underwear.

If she calls for help now, she’ll have to admit that she kept watching you get naked without saying anything. What would you think about her?

By being roommates, that would make everything awkward. Mikasa just a bit annoyed by your messy ways, but you she actually believes that you are really nice.

And, right now Mikasa's hard breathing doesn’t show any sign of annoyance with your dirty clothes spreaded on the floor.

You lie nonchalantly in your bed just like that, scrolling through something on your phone while Mikasa hides her face between her knees trying to think of a coherent excuse to call for your help without making it weird.

But, surely, you know how to make it weirder.

Some lewd sounds start to come out softly from outside the closet like a far echo.

At first, Mikasa doesn’t notice it, thinking that it’s just some movie that you’re watching. But when the bed sheets move constantly and there’s a small sound of clapping sounding slightly far, she raises her head to look and find the last thing she wanted to see after getting turned on by just seeing your body.

"F-Fuck…!" You muffle softly.

Your body is moving around on your bed caused by the constant rubbing of your two fingers around your clothed core while the other hand keeps the phone beside you with your eyes locked firmly at it, just like she was before looking at you.

The high volume of the video playing in your phone resonates fully, letting the girl hidden in your closet get a clear idea of what is happening outside.

The way that your chest goes up and down so heavy with those perked nipples, attracts her total attention.

With a crunching guilt waving through her body, her hand travels down her body to start rubbing up and down softly her fingers through her panties. Mikasa doesn’t want to do this, she’s not okay with the idea of touching herself to the sight of someone enjoying their own intimacy.

But the sound of your soft whimpers combined with the dirty loud moans of the girl in the video that you’re watching are just pushing her so hard to the edge of breaking her firm morals.

The struggle of how you try to keep rubbing yourself down there and interleaving it with squeezing your tits, tents her to call out your name.

But not with the intention of stopping this, she wants to help you down there; with her fingers, with her mouth, she needs to do something about what you’re causing in her.

Mikasa never thought of being attracted to girls, but when she shyly watched something to touch herself from time to time, she constantly found herself enjoying the clips where she could see the face of the girl almost crying of pleasure.

And you look so good giving yourself all those pleasure.

The way you have to shout your eyes when you put the panties aside to slide in and out your finger and let out a shaky moan causes Mikasa to tremble in her uncomfortable position, mirroring your action and sliding slowly her finger inside, she has to bite her lip to hide her own moan, trying to do it slowly so you won’t hear the wet sound of her pussy clenching to her finger.

“This is so wrong” Is the only single thought in Mikasa’s mind, but that isn’t stopping her from sliding another finger and arching her back in response.

She should cover her mouth with her free hand to at least stop torturing her poor lip, but that hand is a little bussy lifting her sweater and pulling her bra down to start pinching softly her nipples and squeezing her breast.

How would it feel to hug you like this? Your tits grinding against each other, the hard nipples rubbing and making it feel so much more sensitive.

You stop fingering yourself with shaky movements to open the drawer almost violently. Mikasa startles, scared of the sudden ramble, turning to you confused as to why you stopped.

The drawer turns into a bigger mess when you look around for your vibrator with lipstick shape, making you swear on the low when you click the small button on it and noticing that the battery is dead.

“Fuck it” You throw it inside annoyed with yourself for forgetting to charge it. Your mind works quickly because of the hard need to release and you have to grab one of the pillows in the corner of your bed to put it between your legs, causing you to shiver and whimper softly when your soaked entrance touches it slightly. "Fuuuuck…! Just like that"

You’re now again facing your back to the closet, giving your cute stalker a good view of your ass going front and backwards riding the pillow.

Mikasa has to stop squeezing her breasts and cover her mouth in surprise to realize the reason why you just never let her use that pillow when you both do movie nights, insisting that that pillow is too uncomfortable and you’ll throw it in the garbage soon.

But you don’t seem so uncomfortable as you ride it so insistently, grabbing your sheets with hard fists and moaning so sweetly against your bed.

This is it. This is Mikasa’s limit, she puts inside another finger without any issue due to how wet she is now, actually, she’s really close right now.

Her moans are getting so hard to cover and her hand finds the shirt of yours that she was criticizing just before you arrived, her first instinct is to put it above her mouth to cover the moans and that’s just a worse decision to hide her sounds.

That shirt still has that sweet scent of yours, that scent of your lavanda soap combined with the smell of the oil paint it’s just making her push her fingers inside so much more rougher.

Your moans get harder as you ride the pillow, the soaked spot on the fabric getting bigger when you feel the climax hitting you, causing you to grind your hips harder against the sweet border of the pillow as the orgasm hits, finishing with letting out the fantasy playing right now in your mind through moans.

“Fuck! Mikasa… You move so good!”

That sentence makes her eyes open wide as the orgasm hits her too, the fast movement of her fingers on her wet folds is not hiding anymore the wet sound of her juices coming out when she also mumbles your name against the shirt covering her mouth.

Her body is still trembling and her cheeks are completely red hoping that your after orgasm tiredness didn’t let you hear her. She wants to enjoy how good that orgasm felt, even alone or with someone, she has never come this hard.

She has closed her eyes to rest a little, unfortunately, the closet door sliding harshly to the side and exposing her to you. You’re still naked, with slightly glossed thighs from how wet you got touching yourself is turning her on again. How low is she falling today?

But, when you girn widely at the sigh of your clean and tidy roommate all fucked out on the closet floor, with those big tits exposed and her wet fingers resting on her thigh. You get on your knees beside her to grab her chin and make her look at you with those sleepy eyes and swollen lower lip.

“How cute a roommate I have. Do you think that I didn't hear your whimpers?"

Mikasa stops breathing instantly, but you caress her chin.

"Come on, let's get on your bed now. Mine is a mess".

Mikasa is the kind of girl who always keeps all her stuff in their place.

Even herself, avoiding bad decisions and not knowing how you make it to survive everyday being that mess.

That hot mess kissing her so sweetly that she feels like she might cum again right now, finally feeling how your tits feel against hers. And loving it.

So, when she nods repeatedly against your lips. She feels like this is the first day she might have to get a little out of the routine.

🏷️@softlilpeachxx

#aot smut #attack on titan smut #snk x reader #snk smut #attack on titan x reader #mikasa smut #mikasa ackerman smut #aot x reader #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #brilium

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maythearo · 2 years ago

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" Welcome to Night Raven College's "Ghostly Gossip"! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" A new ghoul here, are you? Well then, don't worry. Let this blog be your guide from the hallways to the catacombs! I'll let you in for some personal notes and tips to gurantee your high school survival, so don't you get lost on me now! "

There are plenty of monster students yet to be introduced to you, but for today let's start with...

Navigation (to be linked) :

R. Rosehearts - T. Clover - C. Diamond - A. Trappola - D. Spade - L. Kingscholar - R. Bucchi - J. Howl - A. Ashengrotto - J. Leech - F. Leech - K. Al Asim - J. Viper - V. Schoenheit - R. Hunt - E. Felmier - I. Shroud - O. Shroud - M. Draconia - L. Vanrouge - S. Zigvolt - Silver

(Messy) Design notes:

Give me strength to complete this project with every character. Just Jamil's took me days because I kept getting stuck with that first scraped design ⚰️ of course I had to start with him since AHEM AHEM I hate him sm (lying)

The only thing I forgor to add in the pic above is that the reason I made his hair half green/blue/(?) Is bcs I wanted something to contrast with the red clothes. For the first half of the process I thought his color pallette was too boring in general, so I slapped a gradient over his Rapunzel hair and called it a day tbh 💪

I'm still not 100% sure if I nailed it the way I originally wanted to, buy hey, It's a start. Can't let my perfectionism hold be back and keep me from sharing my art til the end of times. So here it is. First entry. I'm posting this at 22:20 right after I got home from class so I hope my exhaustion didn't sneak in some typos in the post 😫😫 oh and by the way the snake names were all ideas I asked for on my instagram stories. I absolutely love Steve. The person who sent the idea said that it was Kalim who named it that way and I can totally see it happening

But in a final note, I wanted a cooler layout for me to post the series, so I took the name Ghostly Gossip from Spectra's original name for her blog before it became The Gory Gazette, I believe? I'm having fun with this idea that everyone would be introduced by a in-universe blog post just like the original monster high website used to do. So I'm creating a tag for the navigation purposes too! At #.the ghostly gossip hehe, but that's kinda all! Um,, stay tuned? (Runs away)

#.the ghostly gossip #twst #my art #twisted wonderland #twst fanart #monster high #jamil viper #scarabia #monster high fanart

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ilikecarsandlike4people · 2 years ago

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hi, don't want to bother you, but i wonder if you could give some advices to someone who wants to learn how to draw some cute cartoon characters (not realistic, but the one like your doodles). love your art, you are awesome

Hi! I made a little drawing guide, hope it helps🥰

#r's art tips of the day #how to draw doodle beans #Hope it helps!

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archangeldyke-all · 9 months ago

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I just saw this art and had some CEO Sevika Thoughts 😵‍💫😵‍💫

https://twitter.com/2400db/status/1777950953817207073

O. M. G. i'm combining this with another ask i got because these two reqs go together like peanutbutter and jelly. EEEK! (also, the link doesnt seem to work now, but it was art of two characters-- i'm not sure who-- where one was sitting in a spinny wheel office chair, back to her computer set up, and the other was straddling her, trying to talk on the phone while the first girl is feeling her up)

the last tidbit in your vacay sex w ceo sev hcs inspired me. could we please get something soft with high!sev after both her and r have smoked?

i like to imagine her hair in a bun with a hoodie and sweatpants on. just looking so pretty and soft and staring at reader like :]

i also like to think she likes skin to skin. :3

🌕

men and minors dni

from time to time, you and sevika work from home.

her penthouse has three bedrooms. one for the two of you, one for guests, and one you've turned into a little study for the both of you for times like this.

two desks on opposite walls, a few bookshelves, a couch, it's a good space. it's helped a lot over the years. when sevika's sick, you manage to convince her to just spend the day in her study instead of torturing herself by dragging herself to work. when the two of you are feeling burnt out, a day taking calls and video meetings at home always help.

and today, you're using it for the best reason of all. it's a snow day.

the city below sevika's windows is covered in a blanket of snow. you've been watching the white powder fall all day. sometimes the blizzard rages so hard, that all the windows in sevika's high rise are greyed-out, and it's like you guys are living inside of a cloud.

sevika has no meetings today. you don't either. so, in an effort to stay cozy, you both decided to stay in your pajamas. sevika looks so snugly in her big sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants. her feet are socked in mis-matched animal print socks, one cats, one ducks. her hair's in a messy bun, and she's still got a bit of sand in her eye even though it's almost lunch. you love her like this.

it's been a slow day. with the whole city trapped inside, the usual twenty calls an hour you're used to answering has dwindled down to two.

at lunch, sevika manages to convince you to smoke a joint with her.

"c'mon babe." she whines, kissing up your neck as you stir the tomato soup heating up on the stove. "no one's gonna need us today. and we're already so cozy, 'n we got nowhere to go..." she wiggles the fat joint she'd rolled in your face. you huff and roll your eyes.

"i need to talk to HR." you grunt, snatching the joint out of her hand and shoving the bubbling pot of soup to the side. "my boss is peer pressuring me to do drugs with her." you tease, quickly lighting the tip of the joint against the burner before putting the soup back. sevika snatches it from you before you can take a puff, running out to the balcony. "sevika!" you squeal as she throws sliding door open. "you're gonna freeze your ass off!" you laugh.

"come here!" she demands, waving you over. you giggle, turning the burner off and running after your wife, grabbing two blankets off the couch as you go.

the balcony is spacious and covered, but with the wind this high up, there's only four inches of space that hasn't been covered in snow. you and sevika squeeze together in the shelter, shivering and huddling under the blankets as the blizzard rages around you.

"you're insane!" you laugh, sevika pulls you closer to her chest, puts the joint, somehow still alight, between your lips.

"puff." she says. you forget the cold for a moment-- the demand sending a shock of arousal down your spine. you take a hit, keeping eye contact with her, and she grins, before pulling the joint away and pressing her mouth against yours.

you exhale, and sevika inhales the smoke from your lungs before she shoves her tongue down your throat.

she pulls away with a smirk. you gulp. "there. warmer?" she asks, putting the joint to her lips as she smirks down at you. you huff, then stick one of your freezing cold hands under her sweater, pawing at her nipple. she squeaks, you giggle at how quickly her nipple gets hard in your fingers.

you guys smoke the joint fast, after that, faster than you probably should've smoked a joint that big. but it was so cold, and the only relief was the warmth from the joint, and you couldn't really feel the high out in the cold...

which means that once you guys get inside, giggling and shaking the snow off your blankets and out of your hair as you quickly warm up, you're both hit with a very sudden, very intense high.

you know you're fucked when it starts to feel like you're underwater. you know sevika's fucked when you look up from your feet where you're struggling to get out of your slippers, and find her giggling at a dick she'd drawn in the frost on the glass wall of the living room.

"sev." you whisper, grinning. she looks over at you, her smile growing impossibly wider when she sees you. you can practically see hearts in her eyes, and you snort. "oh shit." you laugh.

"we still got work." she giggles. you bite your lip.

"fuck." you chuckle.

"ooooh babe! food!" she says suddenly, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the kitchen.

logically, you know that it only takes about ten minutes to make two grilled cheeses and heat up some soup. but it feels like it takes a year.

you keep turning the burners off by instinct-- and sevika has to laugh and turn them back on, reminding you that you're cooking lunch.

she keeps trying to 'season' the food-- which is concerning for a number of reasons. one being that sevika's a horrible cook, who doesn't know the difference between a teaspoon and tablespoon; two, being that she's holding the cinnamon sugar while she says it. the third, most concerning thing is that you're tempted to let her. cinnamon grilled cheese? your high, munchie focused mind thinks, that could work...

eventually, the food is finished, without modification. sevika has to smack your hands twice to remind you to wait for it to cool off. you have to smack hers once.

you guys eat, curled up together on the couch in your study. it could be the weed, but you think it may genuinely be the best grilled cheese of your life.

sevika seems to agree. she keeps moaning and grunting as she chews and slurps her soup.

it should gross you out. she's too high to mind her manners and chew with her mouth closed. really though, it's just turning you on.

she looks up at you, her cheeks stuffed with grilled cheeses, tomato soup dripping down her chin onto her lap, and you bite your lip. she chews, swallows, then speaks. "you wan' som'a mine?" she offers.

your heart leaps in your chest and you surge forward, pressing your mouth against sevika's. she groans, her hands flailing, and she clumsily puts her dishes on the little coffee table. the second she's free, you straddle her lap, clawing at her shoulders, pinning her to the couch. she pulls you down to grind against her, sinking her nails into your hips. you shudder.

you aren't wearing anything under your pajama pants, and you know sevika isn't either. it's just two thin pieces of flannel separating you. for a moment, the dry fabric adds a delicious friction to your movements--but you soak through your and sevika's pants in less than a minute.

and, fuck, you feel like you're in heaven. you feel like you're melting into sevika, it feels like her fingers are made of magic, the sweet grunts and whimpers she's letting out sound like music.

she's like putty in your hands too, chasing you when you pull back, whining when you pull away to breathe. you giggle, smiling down at her and tucking her flyaways behind her ears, she sighs, nuzzling against your palm, and you lean down to kiss her forehead.

"love you." you whisper. she smiles.

"i love you too." she says. you watch in fascination as she licks her lips slowly, looking you up and down. "so... y' gonna ride me now or what?" she asks, grinning and waggling her eyebrows at you.

you burst into a fit of giggles, and sevika grins, nuzzling against your neck and sucking hickeys into your throat. "mmm... okay." you agree. you can feel her lips curl into a smile against your neck, her fingers tugging the drawstring on your pajamas undone.

suddenly, your work-phone starts ringing on your desk. you and sevika both turn around to glare at the sound, and you groan when you realize what it is. sevika makes a choked sound. "n-no--" she manages to whine before you pull yourself off her lap and start walking over to your desk.

sevika squawks, and then in a flash, she sprints over and squeezes between you and your desk chair, flopping into it and tripping you on the way. you squeak, but sevika catches you around your waist, pulling you onto the chair, and her lap, in a straddle. you huff, glaring down at her, and she grins.

"answer the phone." she demands, just like earlier on the balcony. you shiver, and she grins, tugging your pants down over your ass as you bend over her and grab the phone off your desk, pressing it to your ear

"hello?" you choke out. sevika chokes on a laugh, smacks your ass, and you flail, squeaking and smacking her shoulder as you do.

the voice on the other line-- somewhat familiar, a recent client's assistant or something-- asks to speak to sevika. sevika, the exact moment the voice says her name, sinks her teeth into your neck while her fingers start to circle your clit.

"ah-huh-wh-sheeee's, uh, she's not available right now." you say, cringing. sevika's free hand tugs your sweater up, and you smack her forehead-- already knowing what she's planning.

the voice on the phone babbles on and on-- you're not sure about what, you're distracted by the cocky smile she shoots you before ducking in and taking your breast into her mouth. you moan, a horrible, very audible "aaah!" right into your phone.

sevika grins like the devil.

"sorry, s-sorry--there's a bug!" you choke out before the person on the phone can ask you any questions.

oh that's okay. the voice says. i'm the same way, especially about roaches. ew. anyways, as i was saying...

sevika shoves three fingers past your lips and down your throat, you gasp, sputter, and choke, and sevika pulls her fingers free just in time for you to mutter a "sorry, continue," down the line, before shoving her fingers back in your mouth.

it's possibly the hottest thing that's ever happened to you. she keeps thrusting her fingers in and out of your mouth, tiny clicking wet noises escaping with every thrust of her fingers as drool starts to drip down her wrist and your chin.

you try to keep your moans to a minimum. you don't succeed very well.

"you like this?" she whispers. you nod, your eyes closed, tears soaking your cheeks as she continues to fuck your throat with her fingers.

she giggles, then pulls her hand away.

you gasp, your eyes flying open for you to glare at your wife. she just darts forward and gives you a quick kiss, and then she sinks one of her drool-covered fingers inside of you.

you bite your tongue to keep from whining. she kisses a path to your tit, gives it a few nips, then bites your unkissed nipple as she sinks a second finger in your cunt.

"uhhhn, fu--she actually just walked in--here she is--" you spit out before pulling the phone away from your mouth, letting out a long whine, and pushing the phone into sevika's ear. she glares at you, pulling her mouth away from your tits with a pop that you're certain whoever's calling can hear.

"hullo?" she grunts, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear, freeing her hand to fondle pull her pants down as she sinks her third finger inside of you. your thighs quake, her cock springs free, and you moan.

"fuck, sev, please."

she grins, gives your cunt a few more good thrusts with her fingers, before pulling them out and spitting in the palm of her hand, giving her cock a few quick pumps, and then lining it up to your cunt.

it's your turn to get your revenge. sevika always needs a second to adjust before she can sink all the way inside you-- overwhelmed by the squeeze and warmth-- but today you don't allow it.

you sink down on her in one swift movement, grinning at the pathetic, "hhhhaa--" it draws out of her. you're so fucking lucky whoever's on the phone is a chatterbox.

you start bouncing on her cock, your ass smacking her thighs with each go, and sevika's got the most pained, pathetic look on her face as she bites her lip to keep her moans in.

you chuckle. "you're lucky you're cute." you whisper, before pulling your shirt off and shifting so sevika can muffle her moans in your tits, one of your hands tangled in her bun, at the base of her neck.

you tug the phone out of her hand, taking a deep breath and collecting yourself in a true show of your strength and professionalism-- and steadily, (not at all breathy, no matter no much sevika will pretend otherwise) say: "i'm so sorry to have to cut our conversation short, but it seems the blizzard's just knocked the power at our facilities out, and we have to go handle that before our heat goes next. we'll be sure to call you back as soon as possible."

oh, well i'm so sorry to hear that! i hope all your employees are safe! i must say, i thought people were being dramatic about the snow, but it must be awful bad where you are if-- you hang up.

"fuck!" you shout, throwing the phone back down on your desk. sevika growls against your tits, and it a second, shes standing, keeping you on her cock with a solid grip on your ass.

she drops you on the couch, not losing her rhythm for a moment as she balances on top of you. eventually, she has to breathe, and she pulls away from your tits with a gasp. "i fucking love you." she whimpers. you giggle.

"i love y-you too, sev." you whisper.

"louder, baby, nobody's listenin' anymore." she demands. you whimper, clenching around her cock, and she chuckles, one of her hands darting down to rub at your clit.

"s-sevika! baby, i love you, i love you!" you gasp. she grins.

"there you go."

"i love you, please, i'm so close you're gonna-- i'm gonna-- sev, i just-- you--"

"whaddya need baby? anything, anything."

"kiss?" you whimper.

sevika cums at the word, her eyes rolling back in her skull and her arms shaking as she tries to keep her pace. it's so hot, and you're so close, and she keeps fucking you even as her cum starts to leak out of you--

and then she tears her eyes open, gasps, and smashes her mouth against yours.

you fall apart, cumming and clencing sevika's sensitive cock hard. so hard, in fact, "oh, b-baby, i!" sevika collapses against you, her cock pulsing inside of you a few more times, and you gasp.

the moment you catch your breath, you burst into giggles.

"did you just cum again?" you ask. "twice in one minute, sev?!"

"fffuck offff." she mumbles against your tits.

"that.. was so hot." you say. she giggles now too.

"g'night."

"sevika." you tug her bun. "it's the middle of the day."

"i'm done. g'night."

"c'mon." you pout, gently tapping her cheek, trying to get her to open her eyes. "we'll have a warm shower and i'll make hot chocolate? with whiskey? we'll turn the phones off, okay? cuddle in bed a bit?" you bribe. she peeks one eye open.

"can i eat you out in bed?" she asks. you snort.

"i was thinking bed would be more like a nap, babe."

"mmm. can i eat you out in the shower?"

"you can eat me out after our nap."

"can i wake you up with it?" she asks, a sparkle in her eye. you roll your eyes.

"only if you actually let me sleep. and you try to sleep too, okay?" you ask. she nods. "one hour, at least." you demand. she pouts, but nods again, and you burst into laughter. "kiss." you voice your final demand. sevika grins, and leans in happily.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika smut #soft sevika

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french-unknown · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: shanks, vivi, ace, law, sabo 𝐂/𝐖: fluff 𝐖/𝐂: 620 +

| m a s t e r l i s t | - | p t . 1 |

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒

✧ If there's one habit you picked up from him, it's the art of putting yourself at ease.

✧ You were quite careful about how you presented yourself in front of him at the beginning of your relationship. You made sure to get up before him to wash your teeth and face before he woke up and you always wore nice clothes even if it was just to stay on the boat.

✧ But, with time and seeing him hanging around in his flip-flops, his badly worn shirt and his pants with a ... particular pattern, you relaxed.

✧ You too end up wearing comfortable clothes around him, too.

✧ Special mention if you wear his clothes. He will love it.

𝐕𝐈𝐕𝐈

✧ You start talking to your Super Spot-Billed Duck just like Vivi talks to Karoo.

✧ You don't take it seriously at the beginning of your relationship when she talks with her pet because you don't really understand what she gets out of it. Even if you really like Karoo, as well as your Super Spot-Billed Duck, and you know that they have the intelligence to accomplish complex tasks, they are animals. They won't answer her.

✧ You find it simply adorable to see her conversing with her pet.

✧ However, after an argument, you have no one to talk to about what just happened to you so you turn to your duck in desperation.

✧ You then understand how good it feels to be able to talk to someone who understands you and comforts you but who doesn't cut you off. They are simply supportive.

𝐀𝐂𝐄

✧ You recover his habit of dressing lightly.

✧ At first, you understood that he remained shirtless to proudly show off his Whitebeard crew tattoo but, over time, it ended up annoying you to see the looks he received.

✧ And the annoyance rises even more when you see him strutting around when he notices the more or less discreet glances from mainly the female gender.

✧ You gradually remove the different layers of clothing during your travels.

✧ You stop wearing coats then, when you are no longer cold, you wear shorter pants etc... so on until you find yourself traveling like him in a cropped top and shorts all day long. Ultimately, you find it more comfortable.

✧ He appreciates the vision at first but quickly becomes disillusioned when he realizes that he is not always the only one to benefit from it.

𝐋𝐀𝐖

✧ My god, he's grumpy!

✧ You made fun of him by imitating him every time he did it. He's still grumbling under his breath like an old man, so you're having fun.

✧ Surprise appears the day you find yourself in a situation where you are annoyed by others.

✧ You start to complain in your corner.

✧ It takes you a minute to freeze and stare into space with wide eyes. You didn't do that... Right? But you remember mumbling for the last five minutes.

✧ You look around to make sure no one has heard.

✧ NO!!! You don't want to act like an old man!

𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐎

✧ He, who hangs up on Den Den Mushi every time he gets fed up with his interlocutor, will understand what it's like to be the interlocutor in question.

✧ He's already done this to you several times. Especially during arguments.

✧ He knows that it annoys you so much so he does it even more to enrage you.

✧ He understands what it feels like when you hang up first on the next argument. He didn't realize this immediately and continued to shout in the Den Den Mushi despite the lack of response. It takes him a few minutes to realize that you hung up on him. He remains frozen with the tip in his hand.

✧ He didn't enjoy the experience.

✧ So you start again afterwards.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @idsmash717 @lys-ada @viscade @parkyrr @dozcan123 @livwritesfics @anotherproblemsos @phsycochan @sketchmilk @clovernumber3 @radiorowrites

#one piece #one piece x reader #shanks #shanks x reader #vivi nefertari #vivi x reader #portgas d ace #ace x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #sabo #sabo x reader

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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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treasure in the sea — fushiguro toji.

“Okay, then, Toji….” you teased lightly, hoping to ease the heaviness of the moment. “What’s the most complicated thing in your life right now?” He laughed softly, the sound mixing with the crash of the water. “You asking me that, here of all places, doll.” he said, shaking his head as if you had walked right into some unspoken truth. You blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say. “What do you mean?” Toji met your gaze, the teasing spark in his blue–green eyes replaced by something more serious, more real. His voice was low when he spoke, just loud enough for you to hear over the ocean. “You, probably.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18, angst, fluff, first love, friends to lovers, romance, love, drama, hurt/comfort, break up, college sweethearts, smut, kissing, oral receiving, implied p-i-v sex, sexual intercourse, pining, hurt, happy ending, domestic, loss, death, grief character death, guilt, parenthood, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of pining, depiction of parenthood, depiction of guilt, depiction of grief, depiction of character death, depiction of break up, mention of parting, mention of the past, mention of character death, mention of drug overdose, mention of sexual acts and conducts, dad!toji, mom! reader, son! megumi;

WORD COUNT: 14k words

NOTE: i can't believe that toji finally won a poll and with a massive lead. i loved writing this a lot and this was so exciting to write. this was based on this japanese show called umi no hajimari and i adored the show. everything about this was just so lovely. i feel like toji in canon did love megumi and mamaguro a lot, so i wanted it to translate here no matter what. there is smut here so this is a prelude to the kinktober event that starts on october 4th, 2024. i hope you enjoy that too!!! anyway, i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS LIKE FATE LET THIS HAPPEN. In the bustling crowd of students gathering around tables covered with colorful fliers, you spotted him: Zenin Toji, standing tall and frigid, looking somewhat out of place, his eyes scanning the scene as if he wasn’t quite sure where he wanted to be.

Meanwhile, you, shorter and bright eyed, were grabbing every flier you could find, from the Art Club to Ultimate Frisbee. It was quite crazy, to see you grab them with a smile on your face over and over in a speed he couldn’t keep up with. Toji noticed your enthusiasm, probably confused by the sheer number of papers you were collecting.

You exchanged a glance, a brief nod and a small smile. But it was clear he wasn’t sure about the whole "college club" thing. He wasn’t even sure about joining school clubs in high school.

He lingered at a few tables, undecided, but eventually, you lost sight of him in the crowd as you moved on to collect more fliers and started mingling with the upperclassmen managing the booths accommodating the freshmen. Toji thought you were a dream, a moment’s notice. And yet, what he didn’t realize is that you were anything but that.

Later that evening, you attended a dinner event hosted for various clubs, a casual mixer where students could gather, chat, and get a feel for different groups on campus. To get used to college life. The room buzzed with laughter and conversation, and tables were spread with club brochures, each one trying to outshine the others to attract new members.

You had settled at a table near the center, surrounded by people engaged in light conversation, but your thoughts kept drifting. You had collected a few fliers from the clubs you were curious about, but you still felt undecided. Well, they all had mixers in the upcoming days. So, you wanted to judge them by eating at the restaurants they went to. The better the food, the better you feel about the club!

As you chatted politely with a few others, you caught a glimpse of someone familiar out of the corner of your eye. That tall boy with that obnoxious gaze. Zenin Toji, who you'd seen earlier in the day looking equally disinterested, was seated a few tables away. His broad frame slouched back casually, yet something about his presence felt charged. The rest of the room seemed to fade for a moment as he caught your eye. A slow, playful smirk curled on his lips.

Before you could react, Toji stood and approached your table. Without hesitation, he plopped down into the empty seat beside you. "Still hoarding fliers?" he teased, his voice low and amused.

You glanced at the stack of fliers you had gathered, caught off guard by his casual confidence. “I guess I am.” you said with a small smile, half-laughing at his remark, trying to shake off the flustered feeling his sudden closeness brought. His presence seemed to shift the mood, drawing your focus entirely to him, while the rest of the room hummed in the background.

Toji leaned back in his chair, his gaze flicking between you and the fliers, clearly finding humor in your indecision. “Any standouts, or are you just collecting paper at this point?”

The playful banter had a magnetic pull, and despite not knowing much about him, you found yourself leaning into the conversation.

You shifted in your seat, the weight of his presence drawing you in despite the crowded room. “A little of both, I think.” you replied with a smirk, trying to match his easygoing attitude. You glanced at the fliers in your hand, suddenly self-conscious. “I’ve narrowed it down to a few, but… haven’t quite committed.”

Toji chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Commitment issues, huh?”

You shot him a playful glare. “Maybe I just like to weigh my options. I mean, the better the food, the better the shot.”

His smirk widened, and he leaned in slightly, his arm resting on the back of your chair. “Or maybe you’re overthinking it.” he said, his voice dipping lower, more personal. “Sometimes it’s better to just pick something and see what happens.”

The sudden shift in his tone sent a ripple of warmth through you, his casual confidence making it hard to resist the pull of the conversation. He didn’t seem like the type to overthink anything, which was probably why he intrigued you so much. Toji was all instinct and ease, a stark contrast to your careful, measured approach to things.

“Is that what you did?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Just pick a club and see where it takes you?”

Toji glanced around the room, as if he hadn’t really considered joining anything until now. “I haven’t picked anything yet,” he admitted, leaning back again, his arm still casually draped behind you. “Not sure if I will.”

You tilted your head, curiosity getting the better of you. “So why are you here then?”

He shrugged, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe I was waiting to see what you’d pick.”

The comment caught you off guard, and you felt a faint blush rise to your cheeks. His teasing was effortless, and it disarmed you more than you cared to admit. “Oh, so now I’m the deciding factor?” you asked, trying to deflect with humor, but your heart skipped a beat at the playful challenge in his words.

“Looks like it.” he replied smoothly, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. There was something unspoken in the air between you, an electric undercurrent that neither of you acknowledged but both clearly felt. Toji’s laid-back demeanor only heightened the tension, making it hard to look away from him.

Before you could respond, the conversation around the table picked up, a few people asking you about the clubs you’d been considering. You answered politely, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Toji, who remained seated comfortably beside you, like he had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself more and more aware of his presence—the way he occasionally leaned in to comment on something, his quiet observations that made you laugh, the subtle glances he threw your way. There was an ease to his company that surprised you, like you’d known him longer than just this fleeting encounter.

Eventually, the mixer began winding down, and people started to gather their things, heading out in groups or saying goodbyes. Toji stretched lazily beside you, his smirk still lingering.

“So, have you made up your mind yet?” he asked, glancing at the fliers one last time.

You held them up, looking between him and the colorful pages. “Maybe I’ll just join the one you do.”

Toji raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Now you’re the one following me?”

You shrugged, playing it off, but there was a spark of genuine interest behind your words. “Maybe I just want to see what happens.”

For a second, he looked at you like he was trying to figure you out, then his smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “Guess we’ll both find out, then…doll.” he said, standing up and offering you a hand.

You took it, feeling the warmth of his grip, and as you stood beside him, the energy between you shifted slightly. It wasn’t just playful teasing anymore—there was something real in the air, an unspoken understanding that this chance encounter might be the start of something neither of you had planned.

You stood there for a moment, hand still in his, feeling the weight of the moment linger between you both. Toji's grip was warm, firm but casual, and even as he let go, the imprint of that brief touch stayed with you. He glanced around the room, as if assessing how much time was left before the evening fully wrapped up, then turned back to you with a raised eyebrow.

“So…..” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Since you’re so indecisive about clubs, maybe we should keep in touch. In case you need more advice.”

You caught the playful glint in his eye, but there was an undercurrent of something genuine there too. Without really thinking it through, you reached for your phone. “Yeah, advice. That’s what I need, hm?” you joked, handing him your phone with a smirk.

Toji took it without hesitation, his fingers moving quickly as he typed in his number. He handed it back to you, and you glanced down to see his contact saved simply as Toji. No last name, just that. There was something almost intimate about the simplicity of it. He shot you a lopsided grin.

“Now you can bug me about which club to join, doll.” he teased, but his tone was soft, almost like he was saying more than his words let on.

You saved your number in his phone in return, noticing how natural it felt to exchange numbers with him, like this wasn’t the first time you’d done this. Maybe it was the easy way he carried himself, or the way his smirk softened when he looked at you, but it felt… effortless. You weren’t sure what that meant yet, but you liked it.

As you handed back his phone, you found yourself lingering, caught in the moment between what this was and what it could become. “I’ll hold you to that, you know. The advice.” you said lightly, breaking the tension but not quite dispelling it. Your gaze lingered towards him for a little too long. “You better answer, okay?”

Toji chuckled, his eyes glancing over your face like he was committing it to memory. “Why wouldn’t I?” he snickers back at you. “That means I’ll be hearing from you soon.”

The way he said it wasn’t a question—it was a certainty. Something about the confidence in his words sent a ripple through you. You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips as you tried to play it cool. “Maybe sooner than you think.”

He laughed quietly, clearly enjoying this little back-and-forth. “I’ll keep my phone close, then.”

Just as the room started to clear out, Toji took a small step closer, his voice lowering slightly. “See you around… and don’t overthink it. I’ve got a feeling you’re not as indecisive as you make yourself out to be.”

There was something almost intimate in the way he said it, like he saw through your front and into something deeper. Before you could reply, Toji gave you one last smirk, a teasing glance, then turned and walked toward the door, disappearing into the flow of people heading out.

You stood there for a moment, watching him go, your phone still in hand, his number glowing on the screen. The mixer’s noise buzzed in the background, but your mind was elsewhere, still caught on the feeling of that exchange—light and playful on the surface, but weighted with possibility underneath.

As you finally made your way to the exit, you found yourself thinking back on his words, the certainty in them. Maybe you weren’t as undecided as you thought. Or maybe Toji was the push you didn’t realize you needed.

Later, as you stepped into the cool evening air, your phone buzzed in your hand. A message flashed on the screen.

Toji: Already overthinking things?

You smiled to yourself, feeling the warmth of anticipation in your chest. Maybe this was the start of something, after all.

EVERYTHING QUICKLY STARTED FROM THERE. From that night, your friendship with Zenin Toji developed naturally, like you’d always known each other. You quickly fell into a rhythm of hanging out at various club events together, even though Zenin Toji never quite settled on joining any one group.

He showed up with his usual laid-back grin, fliers still folded in his pocket, but it didn’t matter. The bond you formed over your shared indecision—and the string of free dinners at the events—was enough to keep you together. It was easy, lighthearted, the way you could sit with him at these gatherings and slip into conversation like you were old friends.

Toji was an engineering major, which surprised you at first, given his carefree attitude and lack of outward focus. He rarely talked about school, yet somehow, you could picture him excelling in that structured world of machines, calculations, and practical problems. In contrast, you were a classical music major, your world filled with compositions, performances, and delicate precision. It seemed like a strange match on the surface, but somehow, the two of you worked.

The more time you spent together, the more you realized that Toji had a knack for grounding you in ways you didn’t expect. When you’d get lost in your head, agonizing over pieces of music or second-guessing your choices, Toji had a way of cutting through the noise with his straightforward advice. “Don’t think so hard, doll.” he’d say, almost like it was the simplest thing in the world. And sometimes, it was.

Weeks turned into months, and your connection with him deepened. You found yourself spending more time outside of the club events, drawn together by your shared love for adventure. It became almost a tradition between the two of you.

The spontaneous outings where neither of you planned ahead, just picking up and going somewhere on a whim. Toji had this effortless energy about him that made you want to say yes to everything, even things you wouldn’t normally do. There was something freeing about being around him, like he gave you permission to let go of the structure you were so used to.

One of his favorite places to take you was the sea. You weren’t sure how it had come up the first time, but maybe during a casual conversation, or maybe you had mentioned it while reminiscing about the littlest of things, from your childhood memories to what shape of the cloud you think you see.

But once Toji knew you had a deep connection to the ocean, he made a point of driving you there whenever he could. There was a stretch of coastline a couple of hours away, not too far but far enough to feel like an escape from the routine of classes and rehearsals.

The first time he took you, you had been stressed over an upcoming recital, feeling the weight of expectation pressing down on you. Toji had sensed it, of course, and in his usual no-nonsense way, he simply said, “Let’s go.”

The drive was quiet at first, filled with the sound of the engine and the open road. But as the scenery changed from city streets to winding coastal roads, you felt yourself relax, your worries melting away in the face of the endless horizon. When you finally arrived, the sea stretched out before you like an open invitation, the salty air filling your lungs and the rhythmic crashing of the waves soothing something deep inside you.

It was on that shore that you realized how much Toji meant to you. He didn’t say much, didn’t need to. He just stood there beside you, hands in his pockets, letting you have the space to breathe. His presence was steady, grounding, like the ocean itself—a constant in your life that you hadn’t known you needed.

Over the months, those trips became your refuge. Whenever things get overwhelming; whether it was school, life, or the inevitable chaos that comes with growing up—Toji would drop whatever he was doing at the time and drive you to the sea. You’d spend hours walking along the beach, talking about everything and nothing.

Sometimes you’d sit in silence, both of you content just to be there, feeling the wind on your faces and the cool sand beneath your feet. It was sometimes better, enjoying each other’s company. Other times, you’d talk late into the night, sharing stories from your childhoods, dreams for the future, and even the occasional fear that lingered in the back of your mind.

For Toji, the sea seemed to bring out a different side of him—a quieter, more reflective side. It was during these trips that he’d let his guard down, offering glimpses into his life beyond the cool, carefree persona he usually wore.

You learned that he’d grown up near the ocean, that it had been his escape as a kid, a place where he could forget the troubles waiting for him at home. He never went into too much detail, but you could hear it in his voice—the weight of something unspoken, a part of him that he wasn’t quite ready to share yet.

For you, the sea was a place of peace. It reminded you of childhood summers spent by the shore, of simpler times when the only thing that mattered was the sound of the waves and the feeling of sand between your toes. Being there with Toji brought back that sense of calm, of being anchored in the present, and you found yourself growing more and more attached to those moments together.

Your friendship was effortless, but there was something else growing between you, something that neither of you had acknowledged out loud yet. It lingered in the spaces between your conversations, in the way Toji would glance at you when you weren’t looking, or the way your heart would skip a beat when his hand brushed against yours as you walked along the shore. It wasn’t just friendship anymore—it was something deeper, something that made your time together feel heavier, more significant.

But for now, you didn’t push it. You let things unfold as they would, trusting that whatever was happening between you and Toji would make itself known in time. And until then, you were content to keep taking those spontaneous trips to the sea, finding peace in each other’s company, knowing that somehow, no matter where you were, you always found your way back to him.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the water as you and Toji waded into the sea. The cool waves lapped at your ankles, sending shivers up your spine as you walked further in, side by side. The gentle roar of the ocean filled the space between you, and for a while, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the serenity of the moment.

The sea had become your shared escape, a place where words weren’t always needed but somehow always found their way into the quiet moments. Toji was waist-deep now, his eyes fixed on the horizon, that familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“You always get this serious when we’re out here, you know?” you said, splashing a bit of water in his direction, hoping to break the quiet spell. “What are you thinking about?”

He glanced over at you, dodging the splash with ease. “The ocean does that to me, doll.” he admitted. “Makes you feel small, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “Yeah, but in a good way. Like nothing else matters out here.”

Toji tilted his head slightly, considering your words. His usual laid-back attitude softened, replaced by that contemplative side he only seemed to show when you were near the water. “Maybe that’s why I keep bringing you here, doll.” he said, his voice quieter now, almost drowned out by the sound of the waves. “Keeps things simple.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with the sun’s fading rays. “You do like things simple, don’t you?”

Toji gave a half-shrug, the corner of his mouth quivering. “Not everything, doll. I thought you knew that.”

There was a pause, and his words hung in the air between you. The two of you had been dancing around something for months now, that unspoken connection that neither of you had fully acknowledged. The tension between friendship and something more had always been there, simmering beneath the surface like the waves that rolled in at your feet.

“Okay, then, Toji….” you teased lightly, hoping to ease the heaviness of the moment. “What’s the most complicated thing in your life right now?”

He laughed softly, the sound mixing with the crash of the water. “You asking me that, here of all places, doll.” he said, shaking his head as if you had walked right into some unspoken truth.

You blinked, suddenly unsure of what to say. “What do you mean?”

Toji met your gaze, the teasing spark in his blue–green eyes replaced by something more serious, more real. His voice was low when he spoke, just loud enough for you to hear over the ocean. “You, probably.”

Your breath caught for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t joking, not this time. There was no playful smirk, no light teasing. He was being honest in that way only Toji could be—blunt, to the point, but with a tenderness you weren’t used to seeing from him.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the depth of the water around you, the way it mirrored the depth of what was happening between you two. “I didn’t think I was that complicated.” you managed to say, your voice soft but laced with a nervous laugh.

Toji took a step closer, the water swirling around his waist, but the space between you felt even more significant. “You’re not. You never have been.” he said. “But what I feel for you? That’s the complicated part.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and your heart started pounding in your chest. The two of you had spent months building this connection, this unspoken bond, and now—here, in the middle of the sea, surrounded by nothing but water and the fading light of the evening—he was finally saying it out loud.

“I wasn’t sure in the beginning, doll.” Toji continued, his voice still low, careful, like he was treading new ground. “At first, I thought it was just us hanging out, being friends. But then… I don’t know. The more time I spent with you, the harder it got to keep things simple. And it all just….it just stopped becoming clear.”

You felt the pull between you growing stronger, the unspoken tension finally surfacing. It had been there all along, in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching, in the way his casual touches lingered just a little too long. You could feel your heart beating out your chest, your eyes tense as you looked at him.

“Toji….” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel it too.”

He didn’t say anything right away, but the relief that washed over his face was unmistakable. It was as though the tension disappeared as his shoulders dropped. The waves lapped gently at your legs, the soft push and pull mirroring the emotions between you. Toji stepped even closer, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his presence despite the cool water surrounding you both.

“I don’t do complicated things, doll.” he said, his bright beautiful eyes locking onto yours.“but I’m willing to try if it’s with you.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you like a wave. Toji, the man who seemed so laid-back and sure of himself, was standing here, opening up in a way you hadn’t expected. He was offering you something real, something he didn’t give easily.

You reached out, letting your hand find his beneath the water, your fingers intertwining with his. “I don’t need simple.” you said, smiling softly. “Well, not without you. I just…. need you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, the only sound the steady crash of the waves, the only feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. Toji’s gaze softened, and in that moment, it felt like something between you had finally clicked into place. Something unspoken, something that had always been there, was now laid bare between you.

He smiled then, that familiar, easy grin, but this time, it was softer, more genuine. “Guess that settles it, huh?”

You laughed, feeling the tension finally break, replaced by a sense of peace that only the sea and Toji—could give you. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

And as the two of you stood there, hand in hand, the sun setting behind you, the waves rolling gently at your feet, it felt like the beginning of something new—something neither of you could predict but both of you were ready to dive into together.

IT WAS LIKE FLOATING IN THE CLOUDS, EVERYTHING AFTER THAT. After that day at the sea, things between you and Toji shifted into something deeper. You started dating officially, but it wasn’t much different from before, just more intentional. You went everywhere together—spontaneous weekend trips, late-night diner runs, quiet evenings at your place with takeout and music playing in the background.

He made you laugh like no one else could, and you found yourself feeling lighter in his presence. No one could make you feel this happy. Not anyone. Just your Toji. After that day at the sea, everything changed between you and Toji, but in the most natural way.

The shift wasn’t abrupt—it was like everything you both had been dancing around finally clicked into place. You were officially together now, but it didn’t feel that different from before, except for the fact that everything seemed more deliberate, more real.

Dating Toji was a blend of excitement and comfort. You found yourselves constantly making spontaneous decisions, from late-night drives to nowhere, to impromptu weekend getaways. He had this knack for making every moment feel like an adventure, even if all you were doing was stopping by a hole-in-the-wall diner at 2 AM for greasy burgers and fries. Somehow, the world felt bigger with him, like there was always something new to discover as long as he was by your side.

The quiet moments became just as meaningful. You’d sit together at your apartment, the dim glow of the city outside your windows, takeout containers spread across the coffee table as some old-school vinyl hummed softly in the background. Toji wasn’t one for endless conversation, but when he did speak, it was either to crack a joke that left you laughing uncontrollably or to say something so unexpectedly sincere that it left you speechless.

And the way he looked at you, with those sharp eyes softened just for you, made your heart race in a way no one else ever could. He had this rough exterior, intimidating to most, but with you, he was different—gentler in a way that seemed reserved for you alone. There were times when he’d pull you close without a word, his arms wrapped around you, as if to remind you that he wasn’t going anywhere, that you were his, and he was yours.

You never realized how easy happiness could feel until him. Sure, life had its ups and downs, but with Toji, the weight of the world seemed lighter. He made you laugh like no one else ever could, often in the simplest, silliest ways. Whether it was his dry humor or those stupid pranks he'd pull just to see you roll your eyes—everything about him had the power to brighten your day.

And then there were the quieter realizations, the ones that snuck up on you when you least expected it. Like when you’d catch him glancing at you from across the room, and there was something so tender in his gaze that it almost took your breath away. Or when he’d grab your hand in a crowded place, lacing his fingers through yours as if it were second nature, making you feel like the safest person in the world.

The truth was, no one made you feel the way Toji did. He wasn’t perfect—far from it—but neither were you, and that was what made it work. There was no pretense with him, no need to hide or hold back. He saw you for who you were, accepted you, and made you feel like you were more than enough. In his presence, you felt lighter, freer, like everything was easier when you were together.

No one else could do that. Not anyone. Just your Toji.

He was your person, your unexpected joy, and as things deepened between you, you realized that he had become so much more than just a part of your life. He was your home.

He was at your place again after finals. It was like a magnetic pull; he couldn’t stay away from you, even after the grueling physical test that left him spent and drenched in sweat. Yet, here he was—unbothered by his disheveled state. His body craved yours, and you could sense that same hunger in yourself. You had been waiting, yearning to close the distance, to touch him, taste him—everything.

As your boyfriend’s hand tenderly wrapped around your wrist, he tried with all his might to stop you. He had that surprised look on his face, almost as though he’d been caught off guard. You could feel your boyfriend's grip firm but almost too careful, almost too cautious. You looked at him with those bright doe eyes.

“Doll, what are you doing? I’m supposed to be the one to go down on you—”

You didn’t let him finish at all, leaning towards him and kissing him passionately. You smiled against the way he kissed you back, his palm touching your cheek as the gravitational pull drew you both closer, deeper and deeper into the kiss. You parted your lips from him and took a moment to pull his hand away from your wrist. It was strong but tenderly gentle. You shove it away. You slowly knelt in front of him.

“Let me do this first. Please.”

Toji could feel his breath hitch deeply. All he could feel at that moment was the way his knees trembled. He was sure that he was feeling it. It was too obvious. Everything about this was giving away the struggle between resistance and desire.

“Here? In your kitchen, doll?” His voice cracked slightly, weary hesitance betrayed by the heat that cut through the reverberation of words. His blue–green eyes darted down to where you were, your hardened resolve so clear, and then back to him with a wanton glance at the sweat on his bright tan skin. “You can’t be serious, I have to cook our dinner now—”

“Please. Now.”

“Now?” Toji's question was more like a whisper, a mix of confusion and longing. It was as though he wasn’t sure if he should stop you or let you take him, right there, without a second thought. It was as though he was having a hard time figuring it out. “I can’t…I can’t just have you do this in the kitchen. It’s not even clean….”

His body told you all you needed to know. He wanted this as much as you did. You didn't answer him with words. Instead, you held his gaze, your intensity silencing the doubt that lingered in his eyes. Slowly, deliberately, your fingers trailed along his thigh, firm but teasing. His breath hitched again, sharper this time, and his hand flexed at his side as if unsure whether to stop you or let you take full control.

"Just let me, baby. Please, Toji." you whispered, your voice low and thick with need. It was a command, but more than that, a plea. You needed this—needed him.

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and you watched his resolve melt away. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath ragged, as though he was on the edge of a precipice, uncertain whether to fall or hold back. But when his hand, the one he'd tried to use to still you earlier, moved to your head, fingers tangling softly in your hair, you knew his decision.

"You’re—" He tried to speak, but the words failed him. Whatever argument or hesitation he had left was swallowed by the way his body responded to your touch. The tension in him snapped like a taut string, and all that remained was the heat between you.

You leaned closer, lips ghosting over his skin, the salt of his sweat mixing with the warmth radiating from him. Every inch of him felt alive under your hands, and you could feel his pulse racing, mirroring your own urgency.

His grip in your hair tightened ever so slightly, and the sound that escaped him was one of surrender. "Fine…fine." he breathed out, a soft growl that sent a shiver down your spine. "Whatever you want… just—"

His words faltered again, but it didn’t matter. You knew exactly what he meant. Your fingers slid down his abdomen, feeling the tension ripple beneath his skin as you lowered yourself further. His muscles twitch involuntarily under your touch, betraying his anticipation despite his earlier hesitation. You could hear his breath hitch again, faster this time, his hand still tangled in your hair, half-pulling, half-guiding you as though he couldn’t decide whether to hold back or let go.

You knew, though. He wanted this as badly as you did, even if his mind had yet to catch up to his body’s desires.

You pressed a kiss just above the waistband of his pants, slow and deliberate, feeling him tense beneath your lips. His hips jerked slightly, a reaction he couldn’t contain, and you smiled to yourself at the effect you were having on him. Your fingers toyed with the waistband, teasing him, drawing out the moment just a bit longer.

“Stop teasing…” he muttered, voice breathless and strained. His grip in your hair tightened for emphasis, but it lacked the conviction to pull you away. He was already lost in this, even if he tried to pretend otherwise.

You finally obliged, tugging down his pants, the fabric sliding against his skin, revealing him fully. His body shuddered at the sudden exposure, and a soft, involuntary groan escaped his lips as the cool air met his flushed skin.

You didn’t waste time after that, leaning in with purpose, your tongue flicking out to taste him. The groan that followed was deeper, rawer, his hand now gripping your hair tightly, holding on as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His legs trembled beneath your touch, and his breath came in ragged gasps as you moved, your mouth working him over with a slow, deliberate pace.

Every sound that escaped him, every twitch of his body, spurred you on, and you could feel him losing control. His hips buckled forward, desperate for more, and his other hand clutched the edge of the sofa behind him, knuckling white from the strain.

“Fuck.” he breathed, voice hoarse and barely audible, his entire body tense with the pleasure building inside him. “Don’t stop… just like that…”

You could feel him unraveling, every touch, every flick of your tongue driving him closer to the edge. And you were glad for it. You were giving it to him. You were the cause of his pleasure. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, and his body trembled under your ministrations.

He was close, and you knew it, but you kept going, pushing him further, not giving him a moment to recover or catch his breath. His head fell back, his chest heaving as he surrendered completely to the sensations coursing through him.

And then, with a final, ragged groan, he came undone beneath you, his entire body tensing as waves of pleasure crashed over him. His grip on your hair loosened, and he slumped back against the sofa, utterly spent, chest rising and falling heavily.

You pulled back slowly, watching as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes half-lidded, glazed over with satisfaction. His hand slid weakly from your hair, his body still trembling in the aftershocks of his release.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the room filled only with the sound of his heavy breathing. Then, finally, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as though in disbelief at what had just happened.

“God.” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “You really don’t play fair, do you?”

You smiled, wiping your lips as you leaned back on your heels. “I told you to let me do this.”

He laughed again, softer this time, eyes meeting yours with a mix of exhaustion and adoration. “Yeah, doll.” he whispered, voice still breathless. “You did.”

As the air settled between you, his breathing evened out, and he leaned forward. Before you could react, Toji’s strong hand cupped your face, pulling you in for a strong, passionate kiss. It was sudden, raw, his lips crashing into yours with the kind of intensity that took your breath away.

His mouth was warm and demanding, and the taste of his. It was making him feel hotter. And it made you hotter that the taste of his juice was being shared between the two of you. It was too good, the heat, salty taste and something uniquely his—flooded your senses.

You felt a shiver race down your spine as his tongue brushed against your lips, coaxing them apart. Without thinking, you melted into him, letting him take the lead. The way his hand moved from your face to your neck, fingers pressing just enough to make you feel his power, sent your mind spinning. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, the kiss growing more fervent with each passing second.

When he finally pulled back, both of you gasping for air, his dark, sharp eyes locked onto yours. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth, and there was something dangerous in his expression—something that made your heart race faster than before.

“My turn, doll.” Toji rasped, voice low and gravelly, dripping with intent. His thumb traced your bottom lip, as though marking the spot where his mouth had just been. "You didn’t think I’d just let you have all the fun, did you?"

Before you could respond, his hands were on you, rough but purposeful, guiding you up and onto the couch. His grip was firm as he pressed you down, positioning himself between your legs, eyes dark with hunger. He wasted no time—there was no hesitation in his movements, only a primal desire to return everything you’d given him moments ago.

Toji’s lips found your neck, trailing hot kisses down to your collarbone. Each kiss, each brush of his lips against your skin sent electric jolts through your body, heightening your senses. He was taking his time now, savoring each second as he moved lower, his breath hot against your chest.

He paused briefly, looking up at you, that same wicked smile playing on his lips. "Relax. You’re gonna want to enjoy this."

With that, he moved lower, and your breath caught in your throat as his mouth descended. The sensation was immediate, overwhelming. His tongue was slow and deliberate, moving with the kind of precision that had you gripping the edge of the couch within seconds. Your back arched involuntarily, and a soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

"That’s it." he murmured, the vibrations of his voice against your skin making you tremble. "Let me take care of you."

Toji’s pace was unhurried, savoring the way your body responded to him, but there was a ferocity behind his touch that let you know he wasn’t going to stop until you were completely undone. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, his strength evident in every subtle movement.

Each flick of his tongue, each stroke of his lips sent you spiraling, and soon you were lost in the sensation. Your hands found his hair, fingers gripping tightly as you struggled to stay grounded, but it was impossible. Toji was relentless, expertly pushing you further and further, until you were right on the edge, your entire body trembling under his touch.

"Toji," you gasped, your voice breaking as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity. "I—"

But he didn’t let you finish. Instead, he quickened his pace, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pushed you over that edge. The sensation hit you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and shaking beneath him.

For a moment, the world went hazy. All you could hear was your own heartbeat, loud and fast in your ears, and the sound of Toji’s deep, steady breathing as he slowly pulled away.

When your vision cleared, he was leaning over you, eyes filled with satisfaction. His lips curled into a familiar smirk as he wiped his mouth, clearly proud of the way he had left you undone. "Told you it was my turn." he teased, his voice smug, but the warmth in his gaze softened the edge.

You couldn’t help but laugh, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you managed to say, voice hoarse. "I think you made your point."

Toji leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, this time slower, more intimate. "Good." he whispered against your mouth. "Because I’m not done with you yet."

EVERYTHING ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP, IT WASN’T PERFECT. And you always knew that, even in the best of moments. There were times when Zenin Toji’s recklessness frustrated you or when his silence left too much unsaid. But none of that ever seemed to matter in the grand scheme of things.

What mattered was that it was real, and despite the flaws, both of you were genuinely happy. Toji had a way of making life feel effortless, as though the weight of the world didn’t matter when you were with him. His presence made everything feel simple, even when it wasn’t.

For a while, you let yourself believe in that simplicity. You believed that the two of you could live in this uncomplicated, happy bubble forever, like nothing could shake the foundation you’d built together. Every laugh, every stolen glance, every spontaneous trip made it easy to forget about the uncertainties that loomed in the background. With Toji, life felt lighter, almost as if the two of you existed in a world separate from everyone else’s struggles and complications.

But then something shifted. It was subtle at first, a creeping unease you couldn’t quite place. Until one day, your world came crashing into focus. You found out you were pregnant.

The moment the test came back positive, the air seemed to leave the room. You sat in the bathroom, staring at the two lines on the test, your mind racing but stuck at the same time. Hours seemed to pass, or maybe just minutes. Time had no meaning at that moment. All you could focus on was the weight of the news in your hands and the way everything suddenly felt heavier, more real, more terrifying than you’d ever imagined.

How could this have happened? Sure, you and Toji had been careless at times, but it never seemed like a real possibility….until now. And now, you were faced with a reality you hadn’t prepared for, a future that felt overwhelmingly uncertain.

You were scared. Not just for yourself, but for Toji too. You had no idea how he’d react, and that terrified you even more. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who liked to plan or think too far ahead. He thrived on spontaneity, on living in the moment, and the idea of something as permanent and life-altering as a baby… you weren’t sure how he’d handle it.

Would he be angry? Dismissive? Or worse—indifferent?

The thought of having that conversation made you feel physically ill. You had played out the scenario a hundred times in your head. Maybe he’d shrug it off like it was no big deal, or maybe he’d walk out without a second thought. Or maybe he’d surprise you, like he had so many times before, and show a side of himself you hadn’t expected. The uncertainty gnawed at you, filling your chest with a kind of dread you hadn’t experienced before.

You spent the next few days trying to find the right moment, the right words, but nothing ever seemed good enough. Each time you looked at him, your throat tightened. He’d catch your gaze, and you’d quickly look away, afraid that he’d somehow see the truth written all over your face before you were ready to say it out loud.

But it was inevitable. You couldn’t hide it forever, and sooner or later, you’d have to face what this meant for both of you. Would it change everything? Could your relationship survive something so monumental? You didn’t know. The only thing you knew for sure was that your world had already shifted, and there was no going back.

That evening, when he came over to your apartment, you were sitting on the couch, your hands clasped together, trying to gather the courage to tell him. Toji sat beside you, noticing your tense posture immediately.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing in your chest. “Toji, I need to tell you something.”

His expression shifted, becoming more serious. “Okay. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant.” The words fell from your lips like stones, sinking into the quiet space between you. You watched his face closely, trying to read his reaction, but it was hard to tell what he was feeling at first. He blinked, his mouth slightly open, as though trying to process the information.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his mind working behind his eyes. You could see the shock there, the confusion, the disbelief. His silence made your heart pound even harder.

“Toji?” you prompted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He finally exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Are you… sure?”

“Yeah. Of course I am.” you nodded, your throat tightening. “I took a test.”

Another silence stretched between you, the weight of the situation settling in the room. Toji leaned back slightly, his face unreadable as he stared at the floor, his brows furrowed in thought. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t joy either. It was something heavier, something more complicated.

“I—” he started, then stopped, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

The pit in your stomach deepened. You had known this would be hard, but seeing him so stunned, so lost, was more painful than you had anticipated.

“Toji, listen…. I just… I already planned this out and I thought about it.” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t want to make this hard on you.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes sharp, questioning.

“What are you saying?” he asked, his voice low.

You took another breath, already feeling the tears welling up behind your eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it. Calmly. And…honestly.… I’ve decided I’m going to get an abortion.”

His blue–green eyes widened slightly, and for the first time since you’d told him, you saw a flicker of something raw, something close to fear in his expression.

“An abortion?” he repeated, his voice sounding hollow.

“Yeah, I am.” you nodded, trying to stay composed. “I don’t think we’re ready for this, Toji. I don’t want to complicate your life any more than it needs to be. With your family being rough and everything, I just…I don’t want this to add to your life. And I don’t want it to be harder on us, I mean we’re in college with nothing.”

He was quiet for a long moment, but the tension in his body was palpable. He was thinking, processing, trying to make sense of everything. When he finally spoke again, his voice was firm, but there was something broken underneath it.

“Are you… doing this for me?” he asked, his jaw clenched. “Because if you are, don’t.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden force in his words. “Toji, listen… I’m just trying to make it easier for you—”

“No, no.” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t make that decision because of me. If you don’t want this, fine. But don’t do it because you think I can’t handle it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as the conversation turned heavier than you had anticipated. Toji had never been the type to be openly vulnerable, but there was something in his eyes now, something deeper than shock. It was fear. Not of the pregnancy itself, but of you taking that choice away from him.

“I’m not. I promise, I’m…” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “It’s not just about you, Toji. It’s about me too. We’re not ready for this—”

“And what if we are?” he cut you off again, his voice strained. “What if we could be?”

You shook your head, tears finally slipping from your eyes. “It’s too much. We’re not even finished with school. I don’t want to mess up your life.”

Toji reached out, his hand gripping your arm, not hard, but firm enough to make you stop. “You think this would mess up my life?” he asked, his eyes searching for yours. “What about yours?”

The question hit you hard. You had been so focused on how Toji would react, on how this would change his future, that you hadn’t fully considered what this meant for you. It wasn’t just his life that would change—it was yours too. And the truth was, you were terrified of that change.

“I don’t know what to do.” you whispered, finally letting the fear show in your voice.

Toji’s expression softened, and for the first time since the conversation started, he pulled you into his arms. His grip was strong, steady, like he was trying to anchor you in the chaos of your own emotions.

“We don’t have to decide everything right now, doll.” he said softly, his voice close to your ear. “But don’t do this just because you think it’s the right thing for me.”

You closed your eyes, resting your head against his chest, letting the weight of his words sink in. You didn’t know what the future held, or what the right decision was. All you knew was that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t facing this alone.

IT WAS A FEW WEEKS LATER. Zenin Toji sat in the crowded cafeteria, only half-aware of the conversation around him. The buzz of his classmates discussing internships, upcoming exams, and their futures faded into the background as he absentmindedly poked at his food.

His thoughts were elsewhere, drifting between the monotony of the day and the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. It had been a few days since he last saw you, but with finals and the usual chaos of student life, it wasn’t unusual. He figured you were busy, like everyone else.

But then a group of your friends approached. Their faces were drawn with concern, their eyes darting nervously around the room as they stopped in front of him. Toji barely registered their presence at first, his mind still elsewhere, until one of them spoke up.

“Toji, hey.” her voice was soft but edged with worry. “Have you seen her?”

He frowned, snapping back to the present. “What are you talking about? Who?”

“Her. You know…” she repeated, her words hitting a little harder this time. “Your girlfriend. She’s not in her dorm, and we haven’t seen her around campus. She dropped out, Toji. The professors said she withdrew from all her classes.”

The fork in his hand froze mid-air, his breath hitching as the words landed with a gut-wrenching thud. Dropped out? You? No. That couldn’t be right. You hadn’t mentioned anything about dropping out or even considering it. The last time you spoke, everything seemed normal—at least as normal as it had been lately. But this? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like you to just disappear, especially not without saying anything to him.

Toji’s chest tightened, panic swelling beneath the surface, though he tried to mask it with his usual composed demeanor. “What?” he asked, his voice sharper than intended, laced with disbelief. “What do you mean she dropped out?”

“I don’t know..” one of your friends replied, her own uncertainty mirroring his. “She’s just… gone. We checked everywhere—her dorm, the library, even the places she liked to hang out. She’s not answering her phone. And when we talked to the professors, they confirmed it. She withdrew from all her classes yesterday.”

His heart pounded in his chest, a sinking feeling spreading through him. Gone. The word echoed in his mind, heavy and suffocating. None of this made any sense. He thought back to the last few times you were together, searching for any clue, any sign that you were planning something like this. But nothing stood out. You had been a little distant lately, maybe, but you always brushed it off as stress from school.

The thought of you leaving without saying a word, of just vanishing from his life like that, was like a punch to the gut. Toji wasn’t used to feeling powerless, but right now, that’s exactly what he felt. He had no control, no idea what was going on, and the uncertainty of it all gnawed at him like a vicious storm.

“Did she… did she say anything to any of you?” he asked, his voice rougher now, desperate for some kind of explanation. “Anything about why she’d do this?”

Your friends exchanged uncertain glances, but none of them had answers. One of them finally spoke, shaking her head. “No, she didn’t say anything. She’s been quiet lately, but we didn’t think she was planning to leave like this.”

Quiet. Distant. It all started to add up, piece by piece. You had been pulling away, hadn’t you? It was subtle, barely noticeable at first, but now, in hindsight, it seemed so clear. Toji’s mind raced with possibilities—was this about the pregnancy?

Did you feel like you couldn’t tell him? Did you think he wouldn’t want this? His stomach twisted at the thought. He wasn’t the best at dealing with emotions, but if you had come to him, if you had just told him… he would’ve figured it out with you.

He pushed away from the table, standing up abruptly, his heart racing. “I’m going to find her.”

“Toji—” one of your friends began, but he was already moving, his mind set. He had to find you, had to understand what had driven you to this decision. Whatever was going on, he needed answers—needed to hear it from you.

Because the idea of losing you, of you walking out of his life without even a word, was something he wasn’t prepared to face.

Without a second thought, Toji pushed his chair back, standing up abruptly. His classmates glanced at him, startled, but he barely registered their reactions. His phone was already in his hand, and he started dialing your number as he made his way out of the cafeteria, his steps quick and purposeful.

The ringing on the other end felt like it lasted forever. His heart pounded harder with each unanswered ring, his mind racing with questions. Why hadn’t you told him? Why had you left?

Finally, you picked up.

“Toji.” you said quietly, your voice strained, almost like you had been expecting this call but had dreaded answering it.

“Where the hell are you?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the frustration and panic out of his voice. “Your friends came up to me. They said you dropped out. What’s going on?”

There was a pause, a heavy silence on the other end, before you finally answered.

“I left.” you said softly.

“What do you mean you left?” His voice was sharper now, disbelief and anger mixing together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t.” you replied, your tone distant, guarded.

“Couldn’t?” Toji repeated, his frustration growing. “You just decided to leave without saying anything? That’s it? That’s your explanation?”

You were quiet for a moment, and Toji could hear the sound of your breathing on the other end. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way toward your dorm, his pace quickening. He could feel it, something’s not right. And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like this.

“I just… I can’t do this anymore, Toji.” you finally said, your voice cracking, though you were trying hard to keep it steady.

His chest tightened at your words. “What are you talking about? Can’t do what? We’re supposed to figure this out together!”

“I don’t want to make things harder for you.” you said, your voice soft and strained. “I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

Toji stopped in his tracks, standing just outside your dorm. His hand was already on the door, but he couldn’t bring himself to knock. “Trapped?” His voice was low now, disbelief coating every word. “You think I feel trapped?”

“You deserve more than this, Toji.” you said, your tone hollow. “More than me. I can’t keep doing this to you.”

“To me?” His voice grew louder again, anger mixing with the hurt that was now undeniable. “You think leaving without a word, without even trying to talk to me about it, is making things easier? You think this is what I want?”

Another silence stretched between you, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“I can’t do it anymore, Toji.” you repeated, your voice more final this time. “I can’t do… us.”

Toji’s hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white as he leaned his head against the door, trying to hold back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He had never been good with feelings, never been good at expressing what was going on inside his head, but this—this was different. This was you.

“Why?” he asked, his voice raw, the hurt finally slipping through the cracks in his defenses. “Tell me why. I thought we were in this together.”

Your breath hitched on the other end of the line, and Toji knew you were trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “But I have to do this. I’m breaking up with you, Toji.”

His stomach dropped. He had heard the words, but they didn’t feel real. Not yet. Not when you were still on the other end of the line, not when he was standing outside your door.

“Don’t do this, doll.” he said, his voice low and pleading now. “We can figure it out. Whatever it is, we can fix it. You don’t have to run.”

But you didn’t answer. The silence on the other end grew heavier, suffocating, until it became clear what you were doing.

“You’re really doing this?” Toji asked, his voice thick with disbelief. “You’re just leaving?”

“I’m sorry, Toji.” you whispered again, and then the line went dead.

He stood there, the phone still pressed against his ear, the empty dial tone ringing in his mind. You were gone. You had left, just like that. The weight of it all hit him at once—the pregnancy, the future you both had avoided talking about, the life that had suddenly unraveled in a single moment.

For the first time in a long while, Zenin Toji felt lost.

HE BLINKED AND IT WAS THE FUTURE. Years had passed since that fateful conversation, and life had unfolded in unexpected ways for Zenin Toji. He had poured himself into his work, rising through the ranks to become a top engineer at his company. His days were filled with projects and deadlines, and while the ache of the past lingered in the back of his mind, he had learned to compartmentalize it.

He was dating someone new now, a woman who brought laughter and light into his life. They shared quiet dinners, spontaneous weekend trips, and plans for a future that felt bright and hopeful. Toji had learned to enjoy the moments, to savor the present without the weight of what could have been pulling him down.

But one afternoon, as he was wrapping up a meeting, his phone rang. The name on the screen made his stomach drop: it was one of your old friends.

He answered, his tone casual. “Hey, what’s up?”

The silence on the other end was heavy, laden with a gravity that sent a chill down his spine. “Toji… I need to talk to you. It’s about uh….her.”

The way she said your name made his heart race, an instinctual dread creeping in. “What about her?” he asked, his voice tightening. It has been years. Years since he’s heard your name. Years since that feeling of the sea wallowed its way into his heart. You. The very thought of you was spring, endless spring. “What happened?”

Another pause. “She… she passed away.”

The words hit him like a physical blow, knocking the breath from his lungs. “What?” he managed to stammer, disbelief flooding his mind. “What do you mean, passed away?”

“She had an accident. It was sudden. I’m so sorry, Toji.”

He felt the world tilt on its axis, the room around him blurring as the shock set in. “No, no, that can’t be right.” he said, shaking his head as if the motion could change the reality. “When? How?”

“We don’t have all the details about it yet.” she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. “But I thought you should know. She had some friends over… and then it happened, after they all left. There’s suspicion that it was an accidental drug overdose, medication. Um, but we’re not sure if that’s true. Because…she’d tell us, if she was sick.”

The words began to sink in, but they felt surreal, detached from reality. How could this be happening? You had once been a part of his life, and now… now you were gone. The memories surged back—your laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about music, the softness in your voice when you told him you were leaving.

“I… I need to go.” he said, his voice shaking. “I need to be there.”

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern echoing in her tone. “Toji, breathe.”

But Toji couldn’t respond. He ended the call, the weight of what he had just heard pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He stared at the wall, his thoughts racing, heart pounding. Everything he had built, the life he had created, suddenly felt meaningless in the face of this loss. All shattered. Both the past, the present and future — all at once, dying.

He stood up, feeling unsteady, as if the ground beneath him had vanished. The world outside his office window looked the same, but everything felt different—bleak, muted, and empty.

Without thinking, he grabbed his jacket and left the office, his mind a whirlpool of memories and emotions. He could hardly focus on the road as he drove, the city blurring past him. All he could think about was you—what you had meant to him, the moments they shared, the unfinished conversations that hung in the air.

When he finally arrived at the location your friend sent, everything about the scene was somber, filled with familiar faces that had once been part of your life. He made his way through the gathering, his heart heavy in his chest. He saw your friends, their faces drawn with grief, and the realization hit him like a wave: you were really gone.

Zenin Toji found a quiet corner, his back pressed against a wall, as the reality settled in. The laughter and joy he had learned to embrace felt like a betrayal now. You should have been here, sharing these moments, navigating life together, just as you once had.

As he stood there, memories flooded back—moments of joy, of connection, of love. And in that instant, he understood that he would always carry a part of you with him, a lingering ache that would never truly fade.

The world moved on around him, but Toji felt frozen in place, grappling with the loss of someone who had shaped him in ways he had never acknowledged until now. And in that moment, he knew that no matter how much time passed, he would never forget you.

Toji stood at the edge of the gathering, the atmosphere heavy with sorrow and disbelief. The small chapel was filled with familiar faces, all of them grieving the loss of you, and he felt an ache deep in his chest as he took in the scene. Your family stood near the front, your mother clutching a bouquet of flowers, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Your father stood beside her, a stoic figure trying to hold it all together.

As the service progressed, Toji’s gaze wandered, and he noticed a young boy standing close to your mother. The child couldn’t have been more than five or six, his small frame almost dwarfed by the adults around him. He had dark tousled hair and bright, green – blue eyes echoing with curiosity that seemed to scan the room, searching for something—or someone.

Toji’s heart dropped as he took a closer look. The boy had a striking resemblance to him. It was subtle but unmistakable—the shape of his face, the curve of his lips, and the way he tilted his head when he looked around. The realization hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Just then, the boy moved toward your casket, his tiny hands reaching out to touch the smooth wood. As though he wanted to stroke your face with the warmth of a thousand suns. Toji felt a surge of instinct, wanting to protect the child from this pain, but before he could react, a white-haired man stepped in. With an air of calm authority, he gently scooped the boy into his arms, pulling him away from the somber sight.

Toji’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized the man—Gojo Satoru, a familiar figure from your past. He was your friend in college too. Protege, in the science department. He was a chief mourner today. The very presence of him felt like a ghost, both comforting and painful. He had always known Gojo Satoru to be a charismatic enigma, with his goofy smile and unserious eyes. But now his demeanor was serious, focused on the child in his arms.

“Hey, little guy.” Gojo said softly, kneeling down to the boy's level, his voice a soothing balm against the surrounding grief. “Let’s give her some space, okay?”

The boy looked up at Gojo, confusion etched on his young face. “But I want to say goodbye to my mama.” he said, his voice small and tremulous.

Toji felt his heart clench. Who was this child? Why did he look so much like him? Was he really…?

“Let’s remember her in a different way.” Gojo suggested gently, still holding the boy close. “We can share stories about how amazing she was, okay?”

The child seemed to consider this, his brows furrowing in thought. Toji felt an urge to move closer, to find out everything he could about this boy, but he was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his gaze away.

As Gojo began to lead the boy away from the casket, the child turned back one last time, his wide eyes filled with innocence and sorrow. “I miss her already. I miss my mama already.” he whispered, and Toji’s heart shattered at the sound of those words.

He watched as Gojo knelt down again, whispering something in the boy’s ear. Whatever it was, it made the child’s face light up with a fleeting smile, and for a moment, Toji felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this boy could carry on a part of you—your spirit, your laughter, your love.

But the reality of the situation crashed over him once more. You were gone, and this child, whom he instinctively felt a connection to, was a reminder of everything that had been lost.

Toji took a step forward, the urge to reach out to the boy overwhelming him. He had to know. “Excuse me.” he said, his voice cutting through the murmur of the gathering, his eyes locked on Gojo and the boy. “Who is he?”

Gojo looked up, surprise flickering in his gaze before a knowing look settled in. “This is your son, Toji,” he said gently. “He’s her child. Your child.”

The words hung in the air like a weight, and Toji felt the ground shift beneath him. He had a son? The realization was like a tidal wave crashing over him, overwhelming and disorienting. All the moments he had missed, the life he hadn’t known he had—everything rushed to the surface, leaving him gasping for breath.

“I didn’t know….I….” he murmured, the words barely escaping his lips. “I didn’t know I had a son…”

Gojo nodded, his expression softening. “She wanted to tell you, but things got complicated. She loved you, Toji. She always did.”

The ache in Toji’s chest deepened, a mixture of regret and longing flooding through him. He wanted to reach out to the boy, to embrace him and promise to be there, to make up for all the lost time. But he felt frozen, unsure of how to bridge this sudden chasm between them.

The boy turned to look at him, his innocent eyes searching, and in that moment, Toji knew he couldn’t turn away. He took a step forward, his heart pounding, ready to face the truth of his past and embrace the future, whatever it might hold.

Toji took a deep breath, his mind racing as he processed the weight of everything Gojo had just revealed. “Who are you, exactly? To her.” he asked, his voice steadier than he felt. “Why are you here with him?”

Gojo regarded him with a measured gaze, a mix of understanding and sympathy etched across his features. “I’m Satoru Gojo, her ex.” he began, his tone calm yet heavy with unspoken history. “We had our time together, but she broke up with me to focus on raising him—Megumi.” He paused, his expression shifting slightly, as if weighing his next words. “But… I helped out when she started to suffer from her illness. We…we also worked together.”

The revelation hit Toji like a punch to the gut. It was hard to hear that you had suffered, and he couldn’t fathom how you had faced such a struggle. You have always been so vibrant, so full of life. The image of you laughing by the sea, dreaming about the future, felt so far removed from the harsh reality of illness. How could this happen? How could you be dead? The thought churned in his stomach, leaving him feeling hollow and lost.

He felt a wave of panic and disbelief. You had been taken away from your son. From Toji. It was like that again—just when he had thought he was on the cusp of something beautiful and real, everything crumbled. You had left him once more, not by choice this time, but by fate’s cruel hand.

“Why didn’t I know?” Toji’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with frustration and sorrow. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

Gojo’s eyes softened with empathy. “She wanted to protect you, Toji. You had a life too. She thought that by keeping her distance, she could spare you the pain. She didn’t want you to feel trapped by her son and her illness. It was incurable, all there could be was maintenance. So…she thought it would be better to leave before the damage was done.”

Trapped. The word stung. He had always wanted to be there for you, to share the burdens and the joys. “But I would have wanted to be a part of it, for bitter or worse.” he replied, his voice trembling. “I could have helped. I could have been there for both of you.”

Gojo nodded, understanding the turmoil in Toji’s heart. “She knew that, but she was scared—scared of what her illness would do to you and to Megumi. She wanted to give him a chance at a life free from that burden. It was a hard choice, but she thought it was the right one.”

The realization crashed over Toji like a wave. You had made that decision alone, believing it was the best thing for your son. And now, that choice has cost you your life. Anguish twisted inside him, and he felt a growing anger not towards you, but towards the circumstances that had taken you away.

How could it be fair? How could the universe allow such a beautiful spirit to slip away while leaving behind a child who would now grow up without knowing his mother?

Toji felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. The name hit him like a jolt, reverberating through him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. “Megumi.” he repeated softly, the sound wrapping around his heart like a lifeline.

It was the name you had once discussed with such warmth and hope while watching the waves crash against the shore, dreaming of what could be if you ever started a family together. The memory came flooding back—the laughter, the carefree joy of that day, and the vivid images of a future that felt so tangible then.

“Yeah, she loved that name.” Toji murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I did too.”

He struggled to hold back tears, remembering how your eyes sparkled when you spoke about having a family, the way you imagined little Megumi running along the beach, chasing after waves with unabashed joy. That dream had felt so real, and now it felt like a cruel joke, a glimpse of what might have been.

Gojo nodded, his gaze steady. “She was a great mom, Toji. Megumi was her whole world. She did everything she could to raise him right, even when things got tough.”

The weight of those words settled heavily on Toji’s heart. “What happened to her?” he asked, his voice trembling. He needed to know; he had to understand how it had come to this.

“Heart disease.” Gojo replied, a shadow of sadness crossing his face. “Giving birth to Megumi made it worse, but she…she thinks Megumi was the best thing in her life. Her treasure in the sea, she calls him.”

Gojo’s words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them settling deep in Toji’s chest. He could feel the slow, painful collapse of his heart as the reality of the situation set in. The woman he once cared for, the mother of his son, had been struggling in silence all this time, carrying the burden of her illness alone while he lived his life, unaware. The thought gnawed at him, twisting the guilt deeper into his soul.

“She never regretted it,” Gojo continued, his voice steady but soft. “She said you had a good life. And she did too, despite everything. She wanted to make sure Megumi had the best, and she gave him all the love she could.”

Toji clenched his jaw, fighting against the flood of emotions surging inside him. Anger, sorrow, regret—it all mixed together into a tight knot in his chest. He felt sick with it, sick with the thought that while he was out there, living his life without a care, she had been suffering. And she hadn’t reached out to him. Hadn’t told him how bad things were. She’d shouldered it all on her own.

“But why didn’t she reach out to me?” Toji’s voice trembled, his words barely above a whisper. He needed to know. He needed to understand why she’d kept him in the dark. “I could’ve helped… I would’ve done something. Anything.”

Gojo’s gaze softened, sympathy shining in his eyes. “She didn’t want to burden you. That’s what she always said. You had your own life, your own path. She didn’t want you to feel tied down by everything she was going through.”

Toji’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. He wanted to scream, to curse the universe for being so cruel. How could she have thought he wouldn’t want to help? How could she have carried that weight alone?

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression solemn. “She never saw it as a sacrifice, Toji. In her eyes, you both lived your lives as you were meant to. She loved Megumi with everything she had, and she believed she made the right choice by not involving you. It was her way of protecting you, even if it meant doing it on her own.”

“To protect me?” Toji muttered bitterly, his chest tightening even more. The thought of her enduring so much pain while thinking she was doing it for his sake felt unbearable. “But it wasn’t just about me. I had a right to know… Megumi’s my son, too. I should’ve been there for him. For her.”

“I know,” Gojo said quietly, his tone gentle but firm. “But in her mind, this was the best way. She wanted you to live your life freely. No regrets, no guilt. And in the end, she did what she thought was best for Megumi.”

Toji’s heart ached at those words. The image of her, alone with Megumi, doing her best to raise him while struggling with an illness that had only worsened over the years—it was too much to bear. He couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness that clung to him, the overwhelming regret of not knowing, not being there when they needed him most.

“She called him her treasure in the sea,” Gojo added softly. “He was her everything.”

Toji swallowed hard, his throat tight. “And now what?” he asked, his voice strained. “What happens to Megumi now?”

Gojo’s gaze was steady, full of understanding. “Now, it’s your turn, Toji. Megumi needs you. You might not have been there before, but you can be there now.”

The gravity of Gojo’s words hit him like a tidal wave. Megumi was his responsibility now. His son. And no matter how much he regretted the past, he couldn’t change it. All he could do was move forward and be the father Megumi needed.

Toji’s heart felt heavy, but amidst the pain and regret, a flicker of resolve began to grow. He couldn’t undo what had happened, but he wouldn’t let his son down. Not again.

“I’ll be there for him. I….I will be there, just like she was.” Toji whispered, more to himself than to Gojo. “I won’t let him go through this alone.”

Gojo nodded, his expression softening. “That’s all she ever wanted.”

“Megumi….I….” Toji whispered, a smile breaking through the haze of grief. “I never knew…” His voice trailed off, choked with emotion.

Gojo watched him intently, gauging his reaction. “You can get to know him, Toji. You can be part of his life if you want. He deserves to know his father.”

Toji felt a rush of determination mixed with fear. “I want to be there for him. I want to be part of his life,” he said, his voice firm. “But how do I do that? How do I even begin?”

Gojo stepped back, giving Toji space while still keeping Megumi close. “You take it one step at a time. Start by introducing yourself. He needs to see that you care.”

Toji looked at Megumi, who was now watching him with wide, innocent eyes, curiosity mixing with uncertainty. It felt surreal, being in this moment—a chance to connect with the child he never knew existed.

“Hey, Megumi.” he said softly, kneeling down to the boy’s level. “I’m Toji. I’m your… father.”

The boy’s gaze flickered between Gojo and Toji, processing the words. “Father?” he echoed, his voice small and hesitant.

“Yeah.” Toji said, his heart racing. “I didn’t know about you until today, but I promise I want to be here for you. I want to know you.”

Megumi’s expression shifted, uncertainty still lingering, but there was a flicker of something else—hope? Curiosity? Toji couldn’t tell, but he felt compelled to keep talking. “Your mom and I talked about you once, you know. We dreamed about what it would be like to have a family. We even picked your name together.”

At the mention of your name, Megumi’s eyes brightened a little. “Mom loved me?” he asked, his voice small but filled with longing.

Toji nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “More than anything. She thought you were the most special person in the world.”

Gojo watched the exchange, a subtle smile of encouragement on his face, and for the first time, Toji felt a sense of connection to this boy. A connection that reached beyond the pain and the past, into a future that was now possible.

“Can we talk about her?” Megumi asked, his small voice filled with the innocence of a child who wanted to keep your memory alive.

“Of course.” Toji replied, his heart swelling with affection. “We can talk about her all day. She was amazing, Megumi. And I want to share all the stories with you.”

As they stood there, the weight of loss began to shift, creating space for something new—a tentative bond that could grow into something meaningful. Toji knew it would take time, but he felt a flicker of hope ignite within him.

“I’m here now.” Toji said, looking deep into Megumi’s eyes. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

EVERYTHING HAD BEEN A WHIRLWIND. Fushiguro Toji’s life changed in ways he never anticipated. The news of your passing was like a shockwave, reshaping his world overnight. He left his family. He broke up with his girlfriend. He changed his last name to match yours and Megumi, after he had asked your parents. He needed to focus on raising Megumi. Like you would have wanted. Like it should have been.

Taking on the responsibility of being Megumi’s father was daunting. Every day brought new challenges and revelations. Toji found himself learning how to care for a child, adjusting to late-night feedings and school projects, and discovering the joy of small victories—like Megumi’s laughter during playtime or the pride in his eyes when he accomplished something new.

Yet, amid the routine of parenting, there was a void that lingered deep within him. He wasn’t over you. He never had been. Memories of you flooded his mind—your laughter, the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about the future, the dreams you had shared together. It felt like a cruel twist of fate that he now held the title of father while grappling with the reality that you were gone.

Every time he looked at Megumi, he saw pieces of you—the way he scrunched his nose when he concentrated, the softness of his smile, and the kindness in his heart. Toji often found himself reminiscing about those conversations you had on the beach, envisioning the life you had both dreamed of. It hurt to think of the family that could have been, the moments that would never materialize.

Despite the pain, he pushed forward. For Megumi’s sake, he channeled his grief into being the best father he could be. He read parenting books, reached out for advice, and did his best to create a stable home filled with warmth and love. He wanted Megumi to feel secure, to know that he was cherished and valued.

But as the days turned into weeks and then months, the ache of your absence remained a constant companion. Toji would often catch himself staring out at the ocean, remembering the life you envisioned together, and it struck him anew how unfair it all felt. You had left too soon, and now he was left to navigate the complexities of fatherhood alone, always carrying a piece of your heart with him.

The sea stretched out before them, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore filling the air with a soothing melody. Toji stood at the edge of the water, the salty breeze brushing through his hair as he watched Megumi run ahead, his small figure framed against the vast expanse of the ocean. The boy’s quiet demeanor softened in the presence of the sea, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he bent down to pick up a shell, the sunlight catching in his dark hair.

Toji’s heart tightened as he watched him, an unexpected flood of emotions surging through him. This was your place—the sea. You had always talked about how peaceful it made you feel, how the endless horizon made everything seem possible. He remembered the times you’d come here together, how you’d sit by the water, your laughter carried away by the wind. And now, here he was, with your son—his son—standing in the same place you had once loved.

He raised the camera in his hands, snapping a picture of Megumi as the boy turned toward him, holding up the shell in his hand as if to show it to him. Toji couldn’t help but smile, his heart swelling with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. There was something about Megumi in this moment, something in his quiet curiosity, the way his eyes softened as he gazed at the sea, that reminded him so much of you.

It hit him like a wave—how much of you lived in Megumi. Not just in his looks, but in his spirit. The calm, quiet strength, the way he approached the world with a sense of wonder, but always with his guard up. You had given Megumi more than just life; you had given him a piece of your heart, a piece of the love you had carried for both of them.

Toji took another picture, capturing the way the light danced across Megumi’s face, the way the sea reflected in his eyes. And for a moment, he could see you—standing there beside him, your laughter mingling with the sound of the waves, your hand resting gently on his shoulder.

He lowered the camera, his gaze softening as he watched Megumi return to the water’s edge. He was beginning to understand now, the words you had left behind, the meaning of what you had called Megumi—your treasure in the sea. It wasn’t just about the boy himself, but what he represented. The love you had for him, the love you had for Toji, even if life had taken you down separate paths.

Megumi was that love. He was the bridge between you and Toji, the one thing that connected them both, even after you were gone.

Toji closed his eyes, taking in the sound of the sea, letting it wash over him. For so long, he had been angry, filled with regret for not being there when you needed him most. But now, standing here with Megumi, he realized that you hadn’t left him behind. You had left him something more precious than anything else—the love you shared, alive in your son.

As Megumi looked back at him, the shell still in his hand, Toji smiled. He walked toward him, crouching down to meet the boy’s gaze.

“You know,” Toji said, his voice soft, “your mom used to say you were her treasure in the sea.”

Megumi blinked, tilting his head slightly. “What does that mean?”

Toji reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Megumi’s face. “It means she loved you more than anything. She saw something special in you, something worth holding onto. And she was right.”

Megumi looked down at the shell in his hand, turning it over thoughtfully. “Do you miss her?”

Toji’s chest tightened, the familiar ache of loss rising to the surface. But for the first time in a long while, it didn’t feel so overwhelming. He glanced back at the sea, the horizon stretching out endlessly, just like the love that still connected them.

“Yeah,” Toji admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I do. But you know what? I see her in you. Every day.”

Megumi’s eyes widened slightly, and he gave a small nod, as if trying to absorb the weight of his father’s words. They stood there in silence for a moment, the gentle sound of the waves filling the space between them. Toji pulled out the camera once more, capturing one last picture—Megumi standing at the shore, his small frame against the endless sea, the shell still clutched in his hand.

At that moment, Toji understood. Megumi was not just your treasure; he was your treasure. The love that both of you had poured into him, the love that endured, even when everything else had changed.

And now, standing beside his son, Fushiguro Toji felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The peace only you could give him.

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