#so simple just one syllable but the look on his face every time

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i think ted has a million pet names and endearments for trent (ranging from sweetheart/darling/baby to his usual silly pun nicknames lol) and trent loves them all, they all make him smile and feel warm n fuzzy inside. and i think trent is the opposite; a majority of the time he just calls ted his name but he infuses it with such warmth and obvious love/admiration/adoration, so much warmth and affection packed into a single syllable, that it feels like an endearment all the same, and it makes ted glow anyway

[webism]

pornstar!choso has a curated look that throws off a lot of his costars. strong build, straight-set face, hands made to choke and tear… most of those he film with don’t expect to be doted on the entire time.

people joke that pornstar!choso falls a little bit in love with every costar he fucks or gets fucked by. that glossy look that always pulls at his face by the time a scene ends, how his lip trembles with a need to be kissed raw when he cums. he says it's just the bliss of his orgasm—that he gets emotional in the moment, but it doesn't mean anything. well, until he meets you.

pornstar!choso who looks you up before his shoot because your name sounded vaguely familiar when it left his agents lips. he could have sworn you'd fucked before, because when he rolls the syllables of your name on his tongue they're nostalgic and taste like the sweat and laboured breaths of a long night between satin sheets. had you shot a scene together before? or had it been a one night stand?

pornstar!choso who realises that no, he hadn't slept with you before. but the familiarity of your name isn't a coincidence—he's fucked his fist to your videos more times than he can count. your name hits him like lightning, he had typed it into his search bar late in the night, cock hard and in need of instant relief. it's almost scary how well he knows you, what sounds you make when you get close to cumming, how you often arch your back and try to run from the overwhelming pleasure, how your eyebrows knit together when you're feeling so good it almost hurts.

pornstar!choso who realises with a now-red face that you probably don't have a clue who he is, and yet he's cum in time with you for months now. he's pretty sure he's drained his wallet at least twice on your cam shows... what if you recognise his name and piece it together with his username that he donates under? he debates cancelling the shoot, faking covid to get some time at home to hate himself endlessly.

but pornstar!choso realises that this is his chance to get to know how you really feel. he's imagined it so many times, as he fucked fake pussies or his closed fist using spit or his own cum as lube. you'd be warmer, undoubtedly tighter... so much prettier. and he wants to know more: would you prefer to take control and turn him into the toys he so often pretends are you? would you lay back all pretty and let him ruin you on his cock? how deep could you take him he knows he's big but you seem so eager, would you take him to the base with ease or would he have to force it in? bully your pretty pussy until it stretches to his shape?

pornstar!choso who hates the fact that your first, and possibly only, time together would be in front of a production crew and under the unsympathetic lights of a porn set. but he'd fuck on a stage in front of thousands if it means a taste of you.

pornstar!choso who makes it to the shoot before you do, comes ten minutes early to settle his anxieties and get a feel for the scene ahead. the director tells him its a simple shoot, that choso is meant to let you ride him for a while until you pull off and suck his cock for a nice close-up facial shot. the way the director speaks so clinically about sex with you makes choso grimace, he feels pathetic for feeling like this. like he'll be a changed man after feeling you around his cock, which is already painfully hard.

pornstar!choso who hates himself for stumbling over his words when he meets you. he wishes he had never looked you up, though he doesn't doubt seeing your pretty face like this would have wrecked his confidence regardless. you're kind, greet him with a shy smile as if he isn't about to slip balls deep inside of you.

pornstar!choso who, once he has you sitting on top of him on that bed—cameras pointed dutifully as you start to play your role and hike your skirt up so you can sink down on his cock—he can't handle the thought of fucking you like it's nothing, like it's not been the crux of his fantasies in the dark hours at night.

pornstar!choso who, probably to the detriment of his career, pushes you backwards onto the bed and connects his lips to yours in a kiss that surpasses every single fantasy he's had in his mind. you taste good, and he wants more. he speaks against your lips, asks whines a question that makes your stomach coil. 'can i eat you out first? please?'

pornstar!choso who is chided by the production team as he gets his head under your skirt and laps at your pussy in the most desperate act of need he thinks he's ever displayed. those that claim he falls in love with each shoot would be wholly correct in this case: he is in love with the taste of you, with the way your legs trap him in and ask for more. he could eat you for hours, run his tongue from your clit to dip it inside of you in reverence of the goddess he believes you to be. and you laugh at the absurdity of his hunger, at the courage it takes to run off script, and the pure need in which he eats you out.

pornstar!choso who only stops once the director threatens to cut the scene entirely. his cock hurts with how hard it is though, and he thinks the redirection of blood has made him lightheaded, because when he's made to sit back and let you sink down onto his length he swears he meets god.

pornstar!choso who can't help his whines as you ride him, an addiction already laying down roots in his brain. he has to try and think of anything less godly than you to hold on to his orgasm though, because the combination of your body and having subconsciously trained himself to associate you with climaxing is all too strong, and he's a hairs breadth away from cumming prematurely and ruining the scene.

pornstar!choso who realises as you continue, however, that your moans arent the same as he's heard them before, though the speakers of his phone. you're more breathy with him, your moans are less honeyed, more raw—as if coming from your chest rather than your throat. he wonders for a moment if he's not good enough, if you're having to fake your pleasure to save face for the cameras. but you're soaked, and even above the sounds of your shared pleasure he can still hear the squelch of his cock rutting in and out of you.

but before pornstar!choso can question himself further, your eyes are widening and you're latching a hand onto his throat as your pace increases. he can feel the way you tighten impossibly around him, the way your hips stutter and your pupils blow out with lust—you're cumming. and of course he remembers his instructions, to let you climb off of him and take his load over your face... but you're not climbing off of him.

pornstar!choso who understands the pointed look you manage to give him, that it's your turn to bypass the scene direction. you want to be greedy, to feel him finish inside of you, even through the confines of a condom. your moans arent fake, they're the first real ones you've let sound on a porn set—and choso is pulling them from your lungs like a choir's conductor.

pornstar!choso who can't last a minute longer, now with the way you lean in and coax him to climax with your voice, the soft praise that leaves your lips is an aphrodisiac and all too powerful. he sees stars when he cums, full blown galaxies too complex to imagine. call it an out-of-body experience or not, but choso is lost in his orgasm for long enough to warrant you bringing him back down with a soft kiss to his lips. he looks sinful: his hairs come loose, messy and stuck to his forehead. his eyes, though, are what's going to be the subject of a few screenshots taken by his fans: he looks totally infatuated.

pornstar!choso who, after taking a few minutes to settle himself after the shoot, watches as you walk over to him, a very pretty smile pulling at the corner of your lips before you lean down and peck his lips goodbye. he assumes it's the last he'll see of you, that there's no way he's worthy of every tasting you again. that night, he's scared to brush his teeth, to lose the way you linger on his tongue.

pornstar!choso who debates fucking his fist to the memory of you in bed that night. he thinks you've ruined masturbation for him, or sex in general: nothing could quite be the same. and as if its a sign from god that he's done enough good in his life to deserve some positive karma, his phone dings.

a photo of you, a pretty vibrator laid over your stomach. your laptop open in the background, his porn playing on the screen.

attached, a message that makes the poor boy cum in his pyjama bottoms. 'lets meet up again. i want to tie you up and film how stupid you get with a vibe strapped to your cock—a movie just for us, though. no audience.'

pt 2 in the works :p

[loveindefinitely]

task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

[reidrum]

glory of the snow

note: the return of insecure!reader my beloved <3 i had a bunch of requests to bring her back so i hope we like it! this is really just a gentle reminder from spencer that we should be kinder to ourselves. also i wanted to have them actually fuck but it didn't seem right to fit that in here so ,,, part 2 question mark who is to say. anyways my inbox is always open for any thoughts, comments, questions, musings all of it! love y'all mwah

summary: you freak out when spencer walks in on you accidentally, and he just loves you too much to let it go

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fingering, masturbation (r, just mentions), heavy petting/kissing, comfort, talks of intimacy issues, self-deprecating reader

wc: 3k

“Oh, sweet girl.”

Three words, maybe two and one syllable, that in any other instance would have had you melting into a puddle at the softness it reared. Words that have so easily turned you into a preening cat but are now aimed at you, albeit no judgement from his end, with no room for escape.

Spencer had come home after a long day of paperwork when he first heard it. He would have brushed it off if it didn’t happen again moments later, and louder. Concerned, he walks toward the bedroom, a flush rushing to his face as he comes to recognize what it is. A small crack of the door allowed him the glorious sight of you in the center of the bed, hand between your legs, eyes shut in ecstasy. You’re mesmerizing to him and he really can’t bring himself to look away, and he doesn’t notice himself subconsciously leaning on the door causing a faint creak that alarmed you to his presence. In that moment, however, he’s less worried about scaring you, and more about the overwashing look of shame on your face.

The soft creak of the door pulled you out of your daze, screaming when you saw the figure behind the door. Your eyes are bulging out of their sockets nearly, heartbeat still racing with adrenaline from when you haphazardly threw the blanket over yourself. You were conflicted, but getting caught doing something that is a common and completely normal instance in relationships really shouldn’t make you feel this guilty. Although you do know the guilt was created by a previous version of you where you had told Spencer that you wanted to take the pace of your relationship slowly, and had little to no desire to engage in such activities for the time being. Or so you said.

He cautiously steps closer, careful not to startle you further, “I’m not upset, or anything.”

You’re not upset either, you’re mortified. “I lied to you.”

“You did…but I don’t think you meant to, right?”

There had been a time where you were tangled all up in him, and poor Spencer, his hands were in the wrong place at the wrong time to no fault of his own and entirely yours, and your shutdown was unavoidable. The blood in your veins seized up like crystallizing water turning into ice, paralyzing both the physical and mental before you could realize.

Intimacy for you was a complicated concept. While it wasn’t novel or unwanted, physical intimacy was something you struggled to accept with open arms. Call it a consequence of your self perception, but it was hard to accept the soft touch of love when you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Spencer never minded, although his heart ached to make you see yourself the way he saw you, he was always more than willing to meet you where you were.

It almost pains you with how understanding Spencer was of the whole situation because you knew any other person would be deeply upset. Every other person was upset.

Spencer never was just any other person, you suppose.

“I don’t know how to explain this.” Another lie, you could easily explain the reason.

It’s not that you weren’t ready, it’s that you didn’t feel like you looked ready. The thought of subjecting Spencer to the one dark cornerstone of your being in the early days of being together seemed illogical and burdensome, and so it was more simple to play it off as wanting to take a slow pace.

But, as biology would see it you have needs and your boyfriend just happens to be so detrimentally attractive that the simplest act has been sending you into a hot fit as of late. The culprit this time was an innocent mirror picture of him at the store trying on new trousers. You had no chance.

You had found that your intimacy issues lie within extending it to others, and less with yourself. The solution of you finding release on your own quickly became a habit when you realized there was no fear on your own. There’s no one to let down if you’re alone.

Spencer perches at the foot of the bed, flat hand outstretched on the blanket towards you but keeping a comfortable distance, “You don’t have to explain anything, honey.”

“No I know, but—fuck—I should.” you bury your face, choosing to only speak to him from behind your hands for now, maybe forever.

He takes a moment to take inventory of your physical being—you don’t look in pain. Clearly you didn’t sound in pain. Your face is flushed, and though he’s sitting a little far from you, the heat radiating from your body hits him like a space heater.

“Sweetheart…I’m not upset.” he repeats, in hopes a reminder might provide reassurance.

It doesn’t. “You’re never upset at me, it’s concerning.” you mumble.

“You make it kind of hard to be upset at you, ever really.” Spencer braves and lays a hand on your leg.

You take a deep breath, the cold of his hand grounding you more and more. Spencer senses the calm it’s bringing you and rubs circles into your calf.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling?” he asks gently.

What are you even feeling? You ponder for a moment—anxious, nervous, bad.

“Embarrassed.”

“Honey, there’s nothing embarrassing about masturbating. In fact, it’s more than healthy to do it to keep cortisol levels low,” he explains, “I just don’t know why you didn’t…want to tell me.”

The guilt swirls in your gut, hearing the twinge of hurt buried beneath the comfort he’s laid out for you. He just wants to help you, but you won’t let him in and that hurts him more.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“It’s just…I…Look it’s…You’re just so hot—“ you slip out, clamping your hand over your mouth before leaking any more intrusive thoughts.

A faint smirk ghosts his face, “I’m…hot?”

“No—Well, yes. I just…ugh.”

“Okay, okay calm down,” he scoots closer and gently brings the hands covering your eyes to rest in your lap, “You don’t need to be all secretive, you know I��d never judge you.”

“I know,”

“I just thought you wanted to wait.”

“I do.”

“But, not with me? It’s okay if it's not with me.”

“Spence, I do. It’s not that.”

“Am I missing something?”

You gulp, “I just…it’s a personal problem. With me. Not you.”

His brows furrow, “Like what, baby? Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Yeah, if a doctor can fix my shoddy self esteem and make me like myself again.” you chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh. 

The pause he takes seems to be ages long before he speaks again, “Angel, how long have you been feeling like that?”

You’ve been caught red-handed, water filling up the tank faster than you can tread, “It’s nothing, I was just joking.”

“Hey,” he says with a rare firmness, “How. Long?”

You deflate under his hard gaze, “A…while…long enough… for it to feel like a…like a default setting, I guess.” you trail off.

Spencer couldn’t hide the hurt on his face if he tried. Not hurt from your lack of admission, hurt that you had felt like this for so long, dealt with this for so long on your own, and he didn’t even know.

All he ever hoped and wanted was for you to be happy, and if he could be the source of that he would ask for nothing more in life. So to hear about you struggling with this, that you felt like you had to keep it to yourself, was heartbreaking.

Spencer remains in his head a little too long as he’s broken out of it by your small voice, “Are you sure you’re not mad?”

He sighs and moves to sit next to you, making sure he stays above the blanket for your comfort. His back is against the headboard of the bed, and he raises his arm a little, gesturing for you to fill the you shaped crevice. You hesitantly move into the space, hating how you feel every move you’re making is calculated, but all of that goes away the second your head meets his chest and his hand comes up to comb through your hair, the other smoothing your arm down, and all you’re left with is him.

“I promise I’m not mad,” he whispers softly, “Just wish you told me. I would have helped you.” He’s intentional in his wording—would, and not could. Could implies he has a choice, a want to do or not do something. I could have helped you, or I could have not helped you. Would is finite, he is doing it because it is programmed in him that caring for you is a need. I would have helped you because it is the only thing I know to be certifiably true, that you deserve to be cared for.

“It sounds stupid out loud but I was afraid you wouldn’t like me the same if you saw me like…that. It seemed logical for me to remove that option altogether.”

His heart aches painfully, and he wishes he could take everyone who’s made you feel that way to target practice. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world. I would spend every day of my life proving that to you.” he utters with unequivocal resolve.

You sigh out shakily, “You’re too kind to me.”

“I’m always kind to you. You deserve kindness. You deserve a lot of things actually…” he trails off.

“Like what?” you ask.

“Well, did you um—” he trails. You look at him quizzically, he continues, “Like before I came in did you…finish?”

Oh. “Oh. I…I don’t think I did, actually. It’s okay though, no big deal.”

He stares at you intently, “Do you want to?”

Your eyes widen, “Spence oh, no it’s okay really you don’t have to do that.  

“You’re encouraged to say no if you feel even an ounce of doubt, but I’m offering because I love you and I want to show you that you can feel safe with me, even when you feel otherwise.”

The familiar sting returns to your eyes as the tears pool up. You’re not used to anyone putting this much effort and concern for your comfort, it’s a novel feeling but if Spencer is willing to handle you with as much care as he is, you’re ready to welcome that sentiment in with open arms.

“Yeah, yes.” you waver.

He grins and leans down, gingerly pressing his lips to yours. His hand ghosts from your calf to your knee, testing the water before moving more intent. An unwelcome yet familiar onset slowly rises, trying to break through to you, “Wait—“

He retracts his hand immediately, “You okay? We can stop if you need to.”

You shake your head. “No, no I’m fine. I just need a second.” you breath out, trying to self regulate. 

He pulls back his hand but you stop him, “No keep it there, it helps. I just…” You don’t know how to phrase it. You think it’s because you’re not in control. When you’re alone it’s only you at the helm calling the shots. But when it really comes down to it, the lack of control is nothing compared to the lack of predictability that comes with the former. Explaining that out loud was daunting to even think about.

Yet Spencer understands what you need, because he always knows what you need. His hand returns to your knee, giving it a soft squeeze, “You tell me to stop whenever you need to.”

He continues kissing you while smoothing his hand up your leg, making wide and sweeping motions across the plush of your thigh so you can feel where he is and where his hand is going. The gesture is comforting and makes you feel grounded, but your head is in a dreamy haze at how good Spencer’s hands feel on you.

The haze leaves through your lips as Spencer feels you sigh against him, feeling you relax more and more as the seconds go by. His hand reaches your upper thigh, fingers ghosting on the inside. “Is this okay?”

You nod, feeling your nerves idling like a distant wave in the ocean. But Spencer’s presence is a lighthouse shining through the fog and guiding you to his shores while the calm washes over you.

His fingers lightly trace the fabric of your panties, ones that you had slid back up your hips upon his entrance into the room. The motion causes you to jump and he pulls back to gauge your reaction. When he sees no fear in your eyes, more so stunned by your wide eyed gaze, his fingers move with more precision, adding more pressure to your clothed core.

A gentle gasp leaves you as he strokes up and down your slit. You’ve given up on continuing to kiss him, the feeling of his hands being too overwhelming to have both sensations at the same time. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck, your body involuntarily curving towards him as he draws symbols on you with his index. Your breathing gets heavier and faster the longer he goes, and soon small moans begin to escape you.

He drags his finger to the top of your panties and toys with the band, faintly asking, “You still with me, sweet girl?” You preen into the crevice of his neck as he keeps talking, “Want me to keep going?” 

He feels you nodding into him as you breathlessly whisper, “Please.”

His finger dips below the fabric and travels down to your entrance, gathering the slickness and spreading it all over you. “Fuck,” he curses softly, “Look how wet you are, baby.”

You whimper at his words and Spencer ascends to the heavens if there even is one, and if there is it’s the one where you sound like that for him. He circles back up to your clit, paying special attention to the bundle of nerves before sliding back your slit and repeating the whole sequence a few more times.

Your moans are coming out at a steady pace, and he’s been prodding around your entrance for some time now, teasing and edging you closer. “Gonna put a finger in now, okay? Doing so good for me, baby.” he murmurs.

The feeling of his finger entering you is satiating. But it’s not enough, and you need more. “Spence,” you manage to get out, “Can take another one, please.” His eyes shut tight as he revels in your desperation for him, and how cynical he must be to love having you at his mercy this much. He would confess the darkest of sins if you asked him in that tone, and he has no choice but to oblige. He stifles a groan at how easily the second finger slid in, his other hand moving up to play with your hair and cradle your head close to his chest as he works his ministrations.

The familar coil builds in your gut, but at an intensity you’ve never felt before. His fingers move in and out of you urgently, his thumb returning to your clit. He’s a man determined to get you there, and your moans and cries of his name only spur him on further. After a few minutes your moans and cries turn into whines and babbles, and he knows you’re close.

His head leans down to croon in your ear, “Shh, it’s okay. I got you, sweet girl. You can come, ‘m right here.”

It’s enough to push you over the edge and you come harder than you ever have on your own, the waves of your climax overtaking you completely. Spencer continues to pump his fingers through your orgasm, talking you the whole way down. Mutters of praises and kisses flow through your subconscious as the euphoria high takes its peak and you come back down to this realm.

His hand smoothes your hair back as you continue to pant against his chest, words unable to find you.

“You okay?”

You finally catch your breath, “That was—fuck—the most insane orgasm I have ever had.”

Spencer beams at this. For one, his obvious and impressive skills that have stunned you into oblivion. And two, because you look so relaxed. The stark difference of your anxiety filled face from when he first came into the room to the blissed out daze you have right now makes his heart swell five sizes up.

He hugs you closer and whispers, “I’m so proud of you, angel. Thank you for trusting me.”

Sleep is fighting you hard as you laugh airily and tuck yourself under his arm again, “I don’t know why I thought that would be scarier.”

He sighs, his smile faltering but still fond, “Past experiences and self perception complicate the anxiety around sex and intimacy. It’s a natural response based on your lived experiences.”

“Oh.” you mutter, slight deject in your tone.

“But we can work on it, if you want.” he adds, “It’s all up to you with what you’re comfortable with and how you want to do it. If you’ll allow me, I’d love to help you in any way I can, angel.”

You really don’t know how you got so lucky. Someone so kind, and patient, and willing to be with you as you navigate these things you normally would have kept to yourself. You feel grateful to be able to bare a piece of yourself to him, and know that he would receive it with open arms, wrapping it up and handling it with as much care as he can bear.

You cuddle closer, and mumble before your eyes succumb to sleep, “Love you. So much.”

Spencer looks down maybe two seconds later and you’re already out like a light. He chuckles softly to himself and whispers, “I love you more than you’ll ever know, sweet girl. Good night.”

[auragasmics]

HE LOVES IT WHEN I...

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° ˚ ₒ synopsis! sugar daddies have a sweet tooth for all their sugar babies. but for you, these rich dilfs are ready to spoil you rotten for all your cute quirks!

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂° ˚ ₒ pairings! sugar daddy bokuto koutarou, ushijima waktoshi, and akaashi keiji x fem! reader

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂° ˚ ₒ cw! 1.7k, drabble + headcannon format, age gap (hq men are early 40s, reader is late 20s), car sex, oral ( m -> f), daddy kink, backshots, fingering, mirror sex, teasing, slight degrading, use of petnames

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂° ˚ ₒ xoxo, chris! sigh...i love bokuto sm! he can eat me 25/8. ushi can too!

pt.1

Sugardaddy!Bokuto loves it when you say thank you.

It turns him on to unbelievable lengths. It follows the same old routine, one he doesn’t plan to change anytime soon. Each time you accepted yet another bag filled with your latest hauls, you turned to the doting man, his hand eagerly waiting to catch your own. 

With a faint smile present on your lips, the soft coos of your voice rose to Bokuto’s ear, coaxing for his copal hues to widen. The pair of words were simple mannerisms, instilled from a young age for all. But whenever it rolled off your tongue, the porcelain shades of Bokuto’s skin couldn’t hold back the innocent hues of red from surfacing. 

All he needed to hear was your pretty mouth say it one more time that day, just once more. 

“Aht, don’t push my head away. That’s just mean,” Bokuto pouted, the pads of his fingers digging into the limp plush of your calves. He’s got all his weigh on you, pushing you down onto the backseat of his car. You winced mindlessly, your hazy eyes flickering among the space Bokuto occupied between your legs. Your fingers lazily carded through his locks, strength dwindling by the second.

 “B-Bo…I can’t take anymore,” you slurred, resting your head along the sleek platinum headboard. You couldn’t begin to comprehend what snapped inside Bokuto, his insistence leading to you gasping for a lick of air. He didn’t give you time to slip from the citrine dress you wore, only to be bunched around your bucking hips. 

“‘M so sorry, Princess. You just looked so good today, I wanted a piece of you,” he mumbled incoherently, his busy lips latching onto the twitching bud of your clit. He's relentless, working the slicked muscles to paint sticky strokes along the bud.  

He’d been tucked away in his own heaven, relishing in every drop of your essence that spilled into his mouth. He pulled at least three orgasms from you this way, each one slower than the last. 

“Wait–I can’t cum again, Bokuto please!” you sobbed, your back forcing out a harsh arch. You frantically nudged yourself deeper into Bokuto’s hold, your hips swiping at whatever could be caught. 

Sharing in your urgency, Bokuto kept his tongue pressed into your folds, the voids of his eyes taking in the sight before him. He always did love when you chased after your own high, using him however you saw fit. 

He pulled his hindering grip from your legs, allowing for your thighs to smother him in a swift close. Not another syllable had to be uttered as you approached your high, both hands grasping handfuls of Bokuto’s hair. 

A bubbling fit of words fled from your lips, Bokuto giggling at the view. He drew himself from your cunt, placing a final kiss onto the exposed bundle of nerves. He rested back onto his haunches, keeping his hunkering figure hovered above your own. 

As he swiped the pad of his thumb along the spit-ridden mess of your lips, he whispered to your dazed visage gently. “Be nice and use your words. Now, what do you say fr’ me, Baby?”

Through your heavy lashes, you mustered the bits of energy to respond, granting a satisfied smirk to creep onto Bokuto’s face.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Sugardaddy!Ushijima loves it when you spend his money.

God, does he love it? The swipes of his card, the sifting through the thick bills tucked away in his wallet, Ushijima was addicted to it all. He didn’t even have to say a word, your hand already reaching for whatever mode of payment he had for the day. 

You weren’t aware of it, but there was a special glint that illuminated the olive hues of his eyes. Maybe it was how you twirled the thin sheet of plastic between your fingers, whistling some tune to pass the moments of processing. 

He was obsessed with the fact that every heel beneath the soles of your feet, every ring that hugged your finger, and every dress that clung to your body was all his doing, all stemming from the fruits of his labor. 

When that gratifying giggle rang from your throat, it was enough to fuel a flame within Ushijima’s belly—something he knew would be extinguished soon.

“I can’t hear you, Sweetheart,” Ushijima groaned, his hand prying from your stuttering hips. You lifted your head from the tear-stained pillow, pulling the swell of your lip through your teeth. “It’s so fucking good, Toshi! I w-want more,” you keened, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. 

Ushijima returned to the sight laid before him, the plump curves of your ass pressed against his tensed abdomen. Tracing down the arch of your spine, he was met with the glassy voids of your lidded eyes, spools of drool decorating your lips. 

Taking a provoking turn, he drew his hips from their post, dragging his length from your walls. He chuckled at the sound of your cries, the sadist whims surfacing to the forefront of Ushijima’s mind.

“C’mon Baby, you gotta work for all those bags you got today,” he surmised, landing a playful smack on your ass. The mewling whimpers from your lungs came to a sudden halt once you noticed what Ushijima held in the palm of his hand.

The hefty stack of blue bills sat snug in his hand, waving them to your gawking glance. “If you can make me cum just like this, I’ll add everything in my hand to your allowance,” Ushijima wagered snarkily. “Deal?”

With a sheepish nod, you agreed to take on Ushijima’s bet, planting your weakened knees into the mattress. A heavy breath brewed inside your lungs, acting as encouragement for your newly placed endeavors. Ushijima knew all too well how big he was, considering he was always so insistent on taking charge. 

Yet watching his pretty girl struggle to take him was just one of his favorite pastimes as of late.

With the single dive of your hips, your walls enveloped Ushijima’s cock in the viscid warmth once more. A stout arch coaxed itself into your spine as a keening sob sang from your lips. An overwhelming euphoria was placed upon your weary body, stemming from fullness residing within your cunt. Your digits dug into the cotton plush of the pillow, barely grounding your mind.

“Fuck–you must really want it, don’t you Baby?” Ushijima chuckled raggedly, the faint patterns of stars clouding his vision. He hadn’t anticipated your eagerness, the swift drops of your hips resting against his flexed abdomen. He felt everything, every twitch of your walls, every roll of your hips, even every kiss the head of his cock pressed into your cervix. 

The explicit clash of skin began the soft comforting tunes to Ushijima’s ears, hiding his blissful whimpers behind the music. His eyes were trained to the unfolding scene, from tracing the slick sheen of sweat dusting the curve of your back to catching each wave that passed through the supple skin of your ass. Reminding of something that of a fever dream, Ushijima melded into the amorous aura, quickly forgetting the bet he’d made with you. 

Giving in to his fading sense of self, Ushijima drizzled the stack of bills along your body, each one drifting to cover the sheets beneath you both. With his hand now free, Ushijima reached out to you, cupping your chin as he presented you with a single rhetorical question. 

“Who’s my rich little slut?”

Sugardaddy! Akaashi loves it when you flaunt your new clothes.

He finds it to be the highlight of his day. It’s even become his sense of downtime from the frantic day, hopping from shop to shop all across the city. He’ll sit in his favorite leather armchair with a cup of the richest brandy in hand, watching your giddy reflection paraded about through the mirror. 

“Don’t you look pretty? Told you this color suits you best, Sweetheart,” Akaashi cooed, his chin nuzzled within the crook of your neck. You couldn’t bother to respond to his compliment, not with his thick digits drawing relaxed circles along the supple bud of your clit. You clawed at his forearm in protest, the silk fabric of his dress shirt catching each scratch of your nails.

Perched atop his lap, Akaashi kept your thighs parted for his entertainment, his eyes pinned to the mirror’s reflection. He admired it all, the staggering rises and falls of your chest, your trembling lips, and the spilling streams of spit lining your chin. He only wished you could revel in the same vision he bore witness to. 

At his tender handling, your body melted into Akaashi’s hold. From the frantic beats of your heart, the nerves beneath your skin prickling with need, and the hot pants warming the air, it was all for him. Your back arched against his chest, squirming amidst the mind-numbing solace Akaashi delivered. 

“Look at that, making such a mess on my fingers,” he hummed, the tips of his digits ghosting the fluttering slit of your cunt. He allowed for a single finger to graze past your entrance, the lewd squelching spurring you on. “P-Please Keiji…don’t tease me like that. Just–” you sobbed, your hips bucking to meet his fleeting touch. 

“Sorry, baby. Not until you tell me how pretty you are,” he whispered, painting your limped jaw with lingering pecks. Drifting down to the pulse of your throat, Akaashi nipped at the skin, leaving the slightest hints of marks in his stead. 

His calming tone flew to your ear, earning your hazed attention. “Look in the mirror and repeat after me,” he instructed softly. You nodded concurringly, the lids of your eyes prying from their screwed hold. 

You were met with Akaashi’s narrowed glare, the darkened hues of his eyes pinned on you. Embarrassment rang through you, eyes glazing over your pitiful state. What caught your immediate attention was the ruby dress he’d just purchased sitting around your waist. 

Not to mention the pornographic sight of your cunt on full display for him, inducing for a merciful whimper to creep out your lungs. 

Yet for Akaashi, his own concern was hearing that voice of your repeat every word that soon left from his mouth. “I’m Akaashi’s…” he began, waiting for your frail reply.

“I’m Akaashi’s…” you uttered shyly, the inescapable heat swarming beneath your cheeks. He noticed your resistance, matching it with lingering swipes of his digits between your glossed folds. 

“Pretty Girl. I’m Akaashi’s pretty girl,” he compiled together, shifting back into his seat patiently. You swallowed the lump sitting in your throat, bundling the bits of energy to comply with his wishes. 

“I-I’m Akaashi’s pretty girl,” you whimpered out at last, granting a smile to spread along his lips.

“That’s my good girl. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

[uzurakis]

hi again!! (ik I just sent in a request I just had another one LMFAOOO) im back bc I got another request/idea!! jjk men (..yuta n Megumi 🙏 n whoever else u want :3) who got into a nasty argument (could be from ur argument post but it doesn’t have to be connected to that post!!) and then gets really injured on a mission right after the argument! it’s up to you if reader + jjk men end up making up, or it could end on a angsty route of them anxiously waiting for reader to wake up while trying to think to ways to apologize with regret; doesn’t rlly matter!! do what you want 😛😛

HEY, WAKE UP . . PLEASE?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. yuuta okkotsu.

n. first, i apologize this one took a very long time because i wanted to carefully hit the right spots and nail the each character. second, i only make 3 characters this time ‘cause each one of them is long enough to read. third, i wanna make you guys suffer <3 enjoy !!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

megumi’s fingers trembled as he reached out to touch your hand, the memory of his harsh words replaying in his mind. “why didn’t i see it coming?” he muttered to himself, voice hardly above a whisper. the guilt was suffocating, the feeling that he had failed you as a partner, both in life and on the field, gnawing at him relentlessly.

he hadn’t slept since you were brought in, eyes red and heavy, his emerald pupils weren’t evident anymore with the dark circles underneath a testament to his vigil. every beep of the monitors felt like a countdown, each passing second a reminder of how fragile everything was. he kept running through what he could have done differently, how he could have prevented this from happening.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion, repeating the words tremendously. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry—“

“i’m so sorry. i never meant for this to happen. i never wanted to hurt you.”

his mind was filled with images of your smile, your laughter, and the way your eyes would light up when you were happy. he wanted nothing more than to see you open your eyes, to hear your voice, to have the chance to make things right.

the silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines. megumi’s thoughts were a chaotic jumble of fear and determination. he knew he had to find a way to apologize, to show you that he cared more than he had ever managed to express. but how could he make up for the pain he had caused? how could he prove to you that he was truly sorry?

he squeezed your hand gently, as if the simple touch could convey all the words he struggled to find. “please wake up,” he pleaded softly. “i need to tell you how much you mean to me. i need to show you that i can do better. that i will do better. please, just wake up.”

as the hours dragged on, megumi’s resolve only strengthened. he would make things right, no matter what it took. the door to your room opened, but megumi didn’t look up. his focus was entirely on you, silently willing you to open your eyes. he wouldn’t leave your side until you did. he couldn’t. the weight of his regret was too heavy, his love for you too deep.

“please,” he whispered again, each syllable filled with desperation. “come back to me.”

GOJO SATORU

“you’re always so damn reckless!” gojo had shouted, his voice echoing in the small office.

“maybe if you weren’t so arrogant all the time, you’d understand why!” you had snapped back, feeling the sting of his words cut deep.

now, the same guy sat by your hospital bed, his usually confident demeanor shattered. his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, blood seeping from where his nails dug into his palms. the sight of you lying there, pale and unmoving, tore at his heart. he cursed himself repeatedly, the words tumbling out in a desperate, angry whisper.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he muttered, voice breaking. “why the hell did this have to happen? why couldn’t i fucking save you?”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to give him some sign that you were still there with him. the argument replayed in his mind, each harsh word a dagger in his chest. he wanted to take it all back, to tell you how much he loved you and needed you.

“shit,” he hissed, slamming his fist into the armrest of the chair. “i’m supposed to be the strongest, but what the hell does that mean if i can’t even protect you?”

a hollow aching threatened to eat away at his chest, a gnawing remorse. tears blurred his vision as he looked at you, voice a broken whisper. “wake up. i want to apologize. i want you to know how sorry i am.”

the room was silent except for the steady beep of the heart monitor. gojo’s thoughts were a chaotic swirl of guilt, also his helplessness. he had faced countless curses and enemies without flinching, but this, seeing you like this, was unbearable.

he cursed again, the words raw and filled with pain. “damn it, why didn’t i stop you? why didn’t i fucking do something?”

his mind raced, trying to think of ways to make it right, to fix what had been broken. but all he could do was wait and hope. he reached out, gently taking your hand in his, his grip trembling.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “i love you. please, just wake up. i don’t know what i’ll do if you don’t.”

YUUTA OKKOTSU

yuta, who was normally expressive, was pale and drawn as he sat beside your bed. his voice was crushed by the weight of his remorse, and he was unable to speak. he was completely broken by the sight of you there, so still and vulnerable, in ways he never imagined. his fingers barely touched yours as he extended a shaking hand, fearing that the slightest touch could break you.

memories of the argument replayed in his mind, each moment seared into his consciousness. your angry words echoed in his ears, mingling with his own harsh retorts. he remembered the flash of hurt in your eyes, the way your voice had cracked when you told him you were done talking. he had let you walk away, his anger blinding him to the danger you were about to face.

tears welled up in yuta’s eyes, but he couldn’t let them fall. he had to be strong for you, even though you couldn’t sense a thing. the guilt gnawed at him, a relentless beast that whispered of his failures. he had promised to protect you, to be there for you, and yet here you were, injured and unresponsive, because he had let his anger get the better of him.

“it’s all my fault,” he grumbled, voice barely audible in the sterile room. “i should have stopped you. i should have been there.”

he stared at your face, willing you to wake up, to open your eyes and tell him it was okay. but you remained still, your breathing steady but shallow. yuta’s mind was a storm of regret and self-recrimination. he blamed himself for everything, convinced that his failure to resolve things before you left had led to this. if only he had followed you, things might have been different.

“wake up, please,” he begged, voice breaking. “you can’t do this to me..”

he felt a sob rising in his throat, but he swallowed it down, determined not to break in front of you. he had to be strong, even if it felt like he was falling apart inside. the thought of losing you was unbearable, a gap that threatened to swallow him whole.

“why did i let you go?” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours. “why didn’t i fight for us?”

the minutes stretched into hours, each one an eternity as yuta sat by your side, his heart heavy with guilt and fear. he couldn’t imagine a life without you, couldn’t bear the thought that he might have lost you because of his own stubbornness.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered again, voice choked with emotion. he stayed there, silent and unmoving, the weight of his regret a constant presence. all he could do was wait and hope, praying that you would wake up and give him the chance to apologize, to tell you how much you meant to him. until then, he would sit by your side, holding on to the hope that you would come back to him.

“i love you. please, just give me a chance to make things right.”

@uzurakis

[dollfacefantasy]

NOT A TOY! ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: you and rick play around with the piece holstered to his belt

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, gun play (humping it), praise/degradation

wc: 1.4k

a/n: um sorry gang i wanted this to be longer but my brain wasn't working when i wrote it and it lowkey still is not 😔 based on this ask tho which i loved. i hope you guys like it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated.

kinktober slot: day 22 - gun play

"You like this?" he asks, feigned disgust dripping from each syllable, "Dirty fuckin' girl."

"It feels good," you whimper in defense of yourself.

He chuckles at that, the sound coming out raspy and low. It's accompanied by the smirk on his face. The nearby light of the lantern makes his eyes look as though they're flickering with amusement at the position you're in.

The two of you were on watch for the night shift. While the sun set behind the tree line, you each climbed up into the tower that sat along the wall. Both of you started off focused on the task at hand. You kept your eyes forward, scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble, walker or human.

But as had been the norm for your time in Alexandria so far, nothing happened. No staggering figures emerged from the woods, nor did any cars creep down the road. You sat in the two chairs perched up there and talked back and forth about different things. You vented about different people in the group, shared stories about your lives in the old world, just normal stuff.

As the hours stretched on, you grew tired and migrated into Rick's lap. He let you settle in against his chest, expecting you to rest there for the remaining time. But like it normally went for the two of you, being so close meant you couldn't keep your hands off each other.

It started with simple making out. Your lips moved with one anothers in slow, open-mouthed kisses. His hands swept over your figure, stopping every so often to grope at your thighs or hips. He spun you around on his lap after a while to get you situated in a position to ride him.

In doing so, he went to move his gun out of its holster. The cool wooden finish of the grip brushed over your thigh, and the sensation sent a visible shudder through your body. 

His brows had raised with curiosity. Testing the idea, he dragged the weapon up your leg, and you shivered again.

"Feel somethin' good, sweetheart?" he asked.

Your eyes darted up to meet his, timidity gleaming over the small spheres. You responded with a little nod, and that was how you ended up here. The gun lodged between your thighs, the smooth grip pressed right up against your damp panties. 

You rut on the weapon like a puppy in heat - back and forth, back and forth. You're not sure if it's the thrill of using something so inherently dangerous as an object of pleasure or just something about the even curve of it that has you even more whiny than usual.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, dragging the fabric of his shirt up between them. His free hand not keeping the gun secure holds your chin. You want to drop your head back so bad. Your eyes are already so droopy with lust. You want to just melt and let loose, but he keeps you locked in this moment with him.

"Look at you. So desperate. You'll rub up on anything if it gets you off, huh?" he whispers.

Your head bobbles in his grasp, nodding yes.

"Mhm. As long as it feels good you don't care," he tuts. He boosts one of his legs to knock you closer. You topple forward further into his chest and stay there, accepting the warm expanse as refuge from the stimulation down below.

"Not my fault," you whimper, "Just feels so good."

"I bet it does," he chuckles.

Carefully, he angles the firearm upwards a bit more, letting your clit bump on the end of the grip. A sharp whine shoots from your lips, so he knows it was the right move.

You don't worry about anything right now. In this moment, it's just you and him. There's nothing to think about but humping the object below you like your life depends on it. You don't even worry about your own speed or force or anything. If there's anyone in this world you'd trust to do this with, it's Rick.

Rick who's intensely familiar with guns from his years on the force before this. Rick who's piece stays attached to his hip at all times. Rick who looks at you like you're the most precious being on earth, but who also can't get enough of reminding you what a little slut you can be. He's the only one who gets you to this level of depravity.

"Harder, baby. I know you can do better than this," he teases near your ear. You feel his breath tickle your skin, the sensation sending chills all across your heated flesh.

You try to follow what he says and press yourself down with more force. The smooth handle slots between your folds. You whine as you feel the increase in pressure, so close against you the contact almost feels direct.

His hands around back knead your ass. He gives it a small smack, beckoning you to keep up the pace.

"Want you to make yourself cum all over it. Get it all messy for me," he breathes, "I know those cute little panties are already soaked."

Your eyes flit down as if you didn't know that. His gaze follows in suit, a small laugh coming out of him. The more you rut on top of him, the darker the wet patch on the front of the delicate garment becomes. The sticky fabric adds to the friction though, making your release approach faster.

"F-fuck," you whimper. Your body tightens up at the impending sensation. The edge is right there. You don't think you could stop now if you wanted to.

"That's right, sweetheart. Making me proud. You're actin' like the perfect whore for me. Keep it up," he mumbles, each word only spurring you on.

You keep bucking your hips. Your grasp on him tightens. Your chest puffs in smaller intervals as you feel yourself racing towards the finish line. When you finally crest the peak, your back arches. You let out a strangled cry. Your body continues to rock brokenly on top of the object.

He grabs your chin again and pulls your face from where it'd been smooshed against his chest. His fingers direct you upward, forcing you to look at him.

"Look in my eyes while you cum, darlin'. Look at who's making you feel this good," he says.

Your cheeks fill with heat at the intensity of his gaze. Despite your instinct to look away, you keep your pupils locked on his blue irises, taking in all of the desire swirling there. Everything hits you harder. You tremble even more as the thing between your legs continues bringing you pleasure.

He chuckles and  drops his hand from your face. Once you're beginning the downward slope, he rubs your back, soothing you through it.

"Good girl. Let it all out. I've got you," he murmurs.

He keeps a firm hold on you, ensuring you don't fall off his lap. You continue on shuddering and riding out the rest of the high, but soon enough your body begins to settle. It feels like you're melting down into his chest. Every part of you loosens. You let out a deep sigh. And your eyes flutter.

His hand slithers down between the two of you to carefully extract his gun from the junction of your legs. He slides it out, briefly admiring the small sheen coating it. You scoot closer to be further in his arms as you hear him set the weapon on the table beside you.

He holds you there for a moment, letting you calm down. It's dark out now. Everything's quiet except for the sound of your breathing. His fingers massage the nape of your neck while he looks out at the pitch black expanse outside the walls.

Even though his attention resides elsewhere for the moment, when you shift around, you feel his bulge nudging the plush underside of your thighs. Reaching down, your fingers toy with the button on his jeans.

That same smug expression from earlier returns to his face as his eyes find yours again.

"You want more already?" he teases.

"That was just the warm up. I want the real thing," you say with a tiny smile.

"The real thing, huh? Greedy girl," he tuts playfully. But he adjusts his position a little in a way that you know you're gonna get what you want. "Let's see if you can handle the real thing without waking everybody up."

[peachversace]

[ nsfw ] — smut (18+) ; bakugou katsuki x reader

Bakugou Katsuki is not one for hesitation. 

His approach to most things—whether it’s fighting villains, cooking up the perfect dinner, or tearing you apart in bed—is always intense, always deliberate, always so him. And tonight? Tonight is no different, though something about him feels even more charged, more relentless.

It's been two weeks since you moved in together, and the sex is good—always good—but tonight Katsuki seems almost unhinged. There’s a hunger in his every movement, like he’s got something to prove, like he’s aiming for perfection.

You’re on your back, thighs pressed flush against your ears as he holds your calves with an iron grip. His hands are big, and calloused from years of training, and the way his fingers curl into your skin is possessive, and grounding. He pounds into you with a rhythm that’s utterly merciless—hard, short, precise thrusts that leave no room for doubt. The stretch has your body trembling, your hands scrambling against the sheets as if they might anchor you to reality. But there’s no escape from him tonight.

Your voice comes out loud, almost a wail, as you struggle to keep up with him. It’s not like you’re trying to keep quiet—Katsuki would hate that—but every sound he pulls from you feels raw, involuntary, like your body is reacting without your permission. And he? He’s gone, too, muttering through gritted teeth, every word rough and unfiltered.

“F-fuck,” he growls, his voice low and strained, breaking over each syllable. His red eyes, narrowed and fierce, flicker down to where you’re taking him, watching with an almost predatory focus as he wrecks you. “Creamin’ all over this dick, ain’t ya? Shit—fuckin’ good—”

The way he says it, so rough and unpolished, sends heat rolling through you. It’s not just the words—it’s the conviction behind them, the way Katsuki always seems to mean every single thing he says. It’s the way he’s completely consumed by you, by this moment, by the slick, desperate sound of your bodies meeting over and over again.

And God, he’s so beautiful like this. His blond hair is damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead as his jaw clenches in concentration. The veins in his forearms stand out as he grips you tighter, holding you in place like he’s afraid you might slip away. His body is taut, muscles rippling with each thrust, and his expression—flushed, intense, somewhere between pain and pleasure—makes your chest ache.

You’re drunk on him. On the way he feels, on the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the entire world. And in the haze of it all, you blurt it out—three simple words that come tumbling from your lips before you can even think to stop them.

“I love you.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, everything happens at once. Katsuki’s thrusts falter, and for a split second, his whole body freezes, like his brain has short-circuited. His red eyes widen, just barely, and then a deep flush creeps up his neck, spreading to his cheeks so fast you can almost feel the heat radiating off of him.

And then—oh.

You feel him tense up, his grip on your legs tightening as he lets out a sharp, almost wounded sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan. His hips jerk forward one last time, and you feel the rush of his release as his body shudders violently against yours.

He comes—hard. So hard, in fact, that you almost laugh in disbelief. It’s sudden and overwhelming, like your confession has lit a fuse inside him he didn’t even know existed. But Katsuki? Katsuki looks absolutely mortified.

“F-fuck,” he mutters, voice cracking slightly. He lets go of your legs, almost dropping them in his rush to bury his face in the crook of your neck. His breaths are ragged, his body still trembling, but it’s the way he curls into himself that gets you.

He’s embarrassed. Bakugou Katsuki, of all people, is embarrassed.

“Shut up,” he snaps preemptively, voice muffled against your skin. He’s avoiding your eyes entirely, and the heat radiating from his face tells you just how much he’s spiraling internally. “Don’t say a fuckin’ word.”

You’re grinning now, unable to help yourself. It’s not just that he came so quickly—it’s why. He’s flustered because you told him you loved him, because those three little words completely unraveled him in a way that even he didn’t see coming.

“Aw, Katsuki,” you tease, your voice light, though there’s real warmth behind it. You trail your fingers lazily through his hair, delighting in the way he stiffens against you. “You okay? You seemed, uh, really excited about what I said.”

“Shut up,” he snaps again, pulling back just enough to glare at you. His cheeks are still bright red, and the scowl on his face only makes him look more endearing. “I’ll kill ya, I swear to God.”

But there’s no real heat behind his words, and you know it. Katsuki may be brash, loud, and perpetually angry at the world, but he’s terrible at hiding his feelings. You can see the way his ears are still burning, the way his gaze flickers down to your lips before darting away again.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you say, grinning at him, and he groans, dropping his head back into the crook of your neck like he’s trying to disappear.

“Don’t fuckin’ start,” he mutters, but there’s a softness to his voice now, a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. His arms wrap around you, holding you close like he’s afraid you might take it back. Like he’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you love him.

It’s not the first time you’ve told Katsuki you love him, and it sure as hell won’t be the last. But it is the first time you’ve said it during sex, and the weight of that makes it hit differently. It wasn’t a calculated decision—it just spilled out of you, raw and unfiltered, because when Katsuki looks at you like that, when he makes you feel like this, holding it back feels impossible.

And now, with him buried in your neck, cheeks burning, and every muscle in his body locked up in embarrassment, you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you. It’s light, teasing, but also full of affection, because watching him—Mr. Unshakable Dynamight himself—fall apart over three little words is a sight you’ll be replaying in your head for weeks.

“Oi,” he growls, but it’s muffled against your skin, more a plea than a threat. “What the hell are you laughin’ at, hah? You think this is funny?”

You press your lips together, trying to stifle the sound, but it doesn’t work. Another giggle bubbles up, and you feel the way his arms tighten around you, the heat of his flush practically searing against your neck. His grip is firm, almost desperate, like he’s holding you close to shield himself from the weight of what just happened.

“Katsuki,” you breathe, still grinning, running your fingers soothingly through his hair. His spikes are damp with sweat, softer than usual, and you can’t resist the urge to rake your nails gently over his scalp. He groans, a low, almost involuntary sound, and it makes your heart squeeze. “Relax. You don’t have to act so shy about it.”

“‘M not fuckin’ shy,” he snaps, finally lifting his head to glare at you. His face is still flushed, and his red eyes dart away the moment they meet yours. He’s scowling, his expression sharp as ever, but there’s something undeniably soft in the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to reconcile his usual bravado with the fact that he just lost it over you saying I love you.

You grin wider, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. He freezes for a moment, his jaw tight, and then lets out a huff of air, like he’s trying to get himself under control. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets you kiss him, lets you soothe the lingering tension in his shoulders as your lips trail from his mouth to his jaw.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur, voice low and teasing, though your words are weighted with sincerity. “I’ve said it before, haven’t I? What’s one more time?”

Katsuki bristles immediately, his scowl deepening, but there’s no hiding the way his ears turn bright red. “S’different,” he mutters, barely audible, like admitting it aloud might kill him.

Your heart skips at his words. He’s not wrong. Saying I love you during sex, in a moment so vulnerable and raw, is different. It’s intimate in a way that catches even you off guard, and from the way Katsuki reacted, it clearly means something to him.

“You’re so damn cute,” you tease softly, your voice light, but the way you look at him is anything but. You mean it, every word, and he knows it. He scowls harder, which only makes you want to laugh again.

“Shut up,” he grits out, his tone rough but lacking bite. He looks at you then, really looks, and for a moment, he seems to hesitate, his sharp features softening ever so slightly. “You’re a pain in the ass, y’know that?”

You can’t help but smile. “Yeah, but you love me for it.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrow, and for a second, you think he might try to deny it, but instead, he groans, dragging a hand down his face as if the weight of his feelings for you is physically exhausting. “Dumbass.”

But there’s no heat in his words. If anything, there’s something almost tender in the way he looks at you after. Vulnerability doesn’t come easy to him—it’s a fight every time—but in moments like this, you can feel it, raw and unguarded. And it makes your chest ache, knowing that even when Katsuki struggles to say the words, he doesn’t have to. You see it in everything he does, in the way he holds you like you’re something precious, in the way he fights not to meet your gaze because he knows it’ll betray him.

“I love you too, idiot,” he mutters under his breath, and it’s so quiet you almost miss it. But you hear him. And in the warmth of that moment, you can’t help but feel like you’ve won something—something big, something you’ve always wanted but didn’t dare expect from someone like him.

“Say it again,” you tease, even though you’re grinning like a fool.

He growls, shifting his weight on top of you like he’s gearing up to smother you with his body. “Over my dead fuckin’ body.”

But there’s no hiding the way his lips twitch, threatening a smile he’s trying desperately to fight.

You can’t resist. He’s just too easy to rile up, especially when he’s like this—flustered, red-faced, and trying so hard to cling to his pride when he’s clearly out of his depth. Running your fingers lazily along his sweat-slick back, you lean in close, letting your lips brush against the shell of his ear as you purr, “I love you so much, my big, bad, buff Pro Hero.”

It’s meant to tease him, to needle at his embarrassment, and you expect him to explode—maybe snap back with one of his trademark insults, or bury his face in the crook of your neck again to hide his embarrassment. What you don’t expect is the subtle twitch of his cock against your thigh, the unmistakable weight of him stirring back to life.

Your eyes widen, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, equal parts amused and incredulous. “Katsuki,” you say, raising an eyebrow as you tilt your head to look at him. “Really?”

His reaction is immediate and utterly predictable. “Shut up,” he snaps, his voice rough and defensive as he turns his face away from yours. His cheeks are practically glowing, the flush spreading down his neck and to his chest, but there’s no hiding the way his hips shift slightly, like he’s trying to get comfortable—and failing miserably.

You can’t stop grinning now, your own embarrassment forgotten in the face of his. “I mean, I didn’t even try to turn you on again,” you tease, your tone dripping with mock innocence. “What’s the deal, huh? Got something you wanna tell me?”

His red eyes flick back to yours, sharp and irritated, though the heat in his gaze betrays him. “You didn’t fuckin’ come yet, that’s why,” he bites out, the words rushed and defensive. “What, you think I’m just gonna leave you hangin’? I’m not a goddamn amateur.”

The excuse is so Katsuki it almost makes you laugh again. Because of course, he’d turn this into some kind of pride-fueled argument, as if the fact that he’s hard again is purely about your unfinished orgasm and not the fact that he’s just completely whipped for you.

“Oh, is that what it is?” you ask, your grin widening as you trail a finger down his chest, letting it rest just above his abdomen. “You’re just that dedicated to your job, huh? Nothing to do with me saying I love you, right?”

His jaw clenches, and you can see the way his hands flex at his sides, like he’s trying to decide whether he wants to throttle you or kiss you into silence. “You’re such a fuckin’ pain,” he growls, leaning down so that his face is just inches from yours. “I’m gonna shut you up, and then we’ll see who’s laughin’, yeah?”

The challenge in his voice sends a thrill through you, and before you can even think to respond, he’s moving—one hand sliding down to cup the back of your knee, spreading you open again as he rolls his hips forward to press the length of his cock against you. He’s still flushed, still grumbling under his breath about how insufferable you are, but the heat in his gaze is unmistakable now, raw and smoldering and entirely focused on you.

And when he dips his head to capture your lips in a bruising, breathless kiss, you know you’ve pushed him just far enough.

[yuquinzel]

— flowerthief.

feat. itoshi rin. fluff <3 short drabble. rin doesn’t greet you without flowers.

itoshi rin shows up at your house at exactly 9:38 pm — standing in all his glory — drenched in sweat and a mess of shattered breaths. you know he ran all the way here, which you can’t find the reason for when you check the time twice to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

you would’ve said something like rin what the hell it’s so late or maybe just cross your arms and peer down at him with a look that says well? to what do I owe the pleasure except it’s only sarcasm.

you would say all that if the first thing he did as you opened the door wasn’t shoving the HUGE bouquet of flowers in your face.

you have no idea where this is going.

it takes 10 seconds for you to realise he’s not going to move from his spot unless you accept the flowers and get them out of your face.

“uhm... what?” is all you can say.

“flowers.” he replies. only now allowing himself to relax and lean against the wall.

“i can see that, but why now?” you bring your fingers to trace the petals. rin is aware of all your favorites, so you’re not surprised to find them sweetly tucked together.

in fact this isn’t the first time he’s given you flowers.

ever since three months ago at the start of your relationship, when you had mindlessly told him you’ve never been given flowers— rin had made it his life’s mission to bring you flowers every. single. day. it’s sometimes a bouquet of blooming colors, sometimes it’s just a small flower he could’ve found anywhere on the roadside.

rin doesn’t greet you without flowers.

“i was so busy with practice today, i couldn’t come earlier.” he says in a somewhat hurried tone, each word cut off by the next.

you think of the hurried text he’d sent you earlier — practice’ll drag out today. i can’t come. sorry. — it was simple, and you knew he was busy so you weren’t upset over it either.

“i thought you couldn’t come?”

“but i wanted to.”

that explains the impromptu visit past 9 pm, the disheveled hair and the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead saying he ran like there was no tomorrow.

“that’s okay rinnie. you give me flowers everyday. it’s okay if you were too busy.” your fingers trace the soft petals. rin holds his breath.

“no, it’s not. i give you flowers everyday. why should today be any different?”

a smile tugs at your lips. you feel giddy and warm. the thought that he’d rushed out of practice and took the time to get you a bouquet of your favourites just to come see you even though he must be exhausted — why he goes out of his way to make you feel special — it sort of steals your breath and make your heart ricochet like bullets in your ribcage.

so when you take your hand to brush his cheeks, the warmth lingering in your hands, rin takes a hold of it in a firm grip. his own hand resting on top of yours to keep it there.

his shoulders relax, “do you like them?” he asks, like always, eyes shining with a glimmer you only ever see around you.

“i love them.” you say, all your love for him and his flowers safely wrapped up in the syllables.

rin lets a small smile play at his lips, “...and?”

you laugh at this, knowing exactly what he means. “and i love you.”

“i love you too.” rin mirrors your laugh, a sputter of low breaths throughout the air.

© yuquinzel2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

one less draft. woohoo. fellas i present to you, rin, the epitome of “if he wanted to, he would.”

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (10)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: As always, thank you so much for reading :) You guys have really been in it for the long haul with this fic and I adore you for it. My brain only lets me write it about once a month. I hope you love it and I love you!!! Please let me know what you think!!! ❤️

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

The syllables of your name echoed, bouncing off the stark chamber of your mind that was now sullied by a beautiful memory with no context. You’d grown used to the quietness, the emptiness—however temporary that was to be. The new memory chafed. 

Pressure remained constant along the back of your neck and you felt the awkward angle of your back as it rested against something sharp. Your body shifted. Another pained croak of your name vibrated in the air. 

“Please, please.” Azriel, you determined, his voice restrained and tight. “Not again. Please, not again. I thought—I thought it would’ve been okay. It didn’t seem—” 

He cut himself off, choking on the words and leaning down until you felt his face press into your shoulder. You wanted to open your eyes, but nothing made sense enough for you to do so. The memory of your laughter and joy lingered in your mind still, creating a dull ache that battled with the present. 

“You wouldn’t have had to find me. I never would have left your side.”

Azriel had said that. This Azriel—right? 

“I love you. I love you and I’m sorry, y/n,” you heard the words mumbled against your skin. “I’m so sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have pushed it. I knew—” 

Was this the same Azriel who avoided the threshold of your bedroom for days after your return to Velaris? The one that refused a simple lunch with you and struggled to look you in the eye? Was this the Azriel you had seen in that memory? 

He spoke as if he were—held you with a reverence that seemed to connect each and every discrepancy. 

You let out a shaky breath, fighting for full consciousness. When your eyes finally caught up with your brain, Azriel was there, hovering over you with damp cheeks and a harrowed expression. 

Last time—you thought, connecting dots as you blinked away the ache behind your eyes—you probably hadn’t woken up. Last time, Azriel had most likely approached this with much less delicacy and you had paid the price. Everyone said you were in too much pain to hear about your past. 

Last time, last time, last time. 

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked, his broken words a testament to your assumptions. 

But you weren’t thinking about last time anymore. 

Azriel was your mate.

You were Azriel’s mate. 

And he had said—

“You said you wouldn’t leave my side,” you whispered. You were clutching at his arms with a white-knuckle grip, the action barely registering in your mind. “You said—” 

“When, baby?” Azriel rushed, the endearment passing through his lips like a desperate prayer. His fingers made their way to your cheeks, brushing along your skin just as desperately. 

“When we were married. You said… the first time… you wouldn’t have left my side if I never remembered you.” 

Azriel’s expression widened. “When we were… Did you—” 

His breath came out in quick huffs. He blinked, as if to clear the image of you in his arms, and then moved to sit you up in his lap. His shadows were a mess alongside you, wrapping and twining into odd shapes as they sought to ease the tension on the balcony. 

When you were finally situated against him, your body still shaking with the events of the evening, Azriel licked his lips and spoke. “Did you remember something?” 

“Yes,” you whispered, your gaze fixated on your fingers as they rested in your lap. You observed your tremors with an unnecessary acuity. “I think so. We were… in bed. After our wedding, I think. You said we were mates, right?” 

You tilted your head up to catch his eye in a question, feeling no embarrassment at your question. Something had shifted after his admission. After your memory. 

You felt more empowered with just a taste of your life. 

“Are,” Azriel clarified. “We are mates. Now and always.” 

“You said something similar in my memory.” You turned back down to your fingers. “How long ago was that?” 

“If you remembered our wedding, that was 267 years ago. After we got you back from Day Court we had a ceremony—a public one. It was around a year after you were healed.” 

“267 is very specific.” 

“I could never forget the day I married you.” 

You locked your fingers together and squeezed your hands until it hurt. 

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked again. His tone was lower this time, almost scared. 

You furrowed your brows and released your fingers. The shaking had stopped. You hadn't tried to remove yourself from Azriel’s lap and he hadn’t commented on how you nestled into his chest as if it were your right. 

Because, apparently, it was your right to touch him in this way. You had been fighting that instinct for weeks, but right now you were confused and conflicted and although everything was becoming clear, it also felt as if your world was toppled once again. So you didn’t move from the one thing that made you feel sane. And Azriel did not move you.

“I think so,” you answered.

“Are you… angry with me?” 

The furrow of your brow deepened. “Should I be?” 

“Yes.” His answer was instantaneous. You turned your face up to inspect the guilt lacing his tone and found it in the clench of his jaw—in the wetness still evident in his waterline. “I have failed you, y/n. I have failed you twice and, this time, I have broken more than one promise.” 

“Azriel—” you began, ready to reassure something you had no understanding of, but the shadowsinger hung his head and refused to let you stumble through your words. 

“I do not deserve your forgiveness—not now. I told you I would stay beside you and then I ran in cowardice. I brought you to this,” he gestured with his shoulders. “To this confusion and isolation. I am supposed to be your mate, y/n. I know that doesn't mean much to you now, but it will. And you will be disgusted by me.” 

“Azriel, that can’t be true,” you argued. “I know this has been so hard and I don’t blame you for your actions. I was angry before—I am still angry—but not at your fear.” 

Azriel’s teeth came together even harder, grinding as his wings coiled tightly at his shoulders. He took a long breath and released it through his nose, frustration emanating from him in waves. But not towards you, you gathered, as he finally looked down to meet your gaze and his eyes softened to match the dried tears on his face. 

You wanted to reach up and soothe some of the torture written across his expression, but Azriel gave you a sad smile that stopped you in your tracks. 

He rested his hand on your cheek. “Always too good for me,” he whispered, a too-quiet preface to his next declaration. “I’m going to take you back to your room. Your body and mind must be exhausted. We can talk in the morning.” 

“But Azriel—” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured. “Tomorrow.” 

~~

You lasted about two hours in your room. 

Calling it “your” room was a bit of a stretch. You had confirmed your suspicions that something had been off about the space after learning of your mate. There was no way you lived in this room alone when you had a relationship like that. 

You began pacing after Azriel had left you at the door. He had placed a lingering hand on your shoulder and waited until you shut the door behind you to leave. So, still fraught with confusion and pent-up frustration and newfound hope, you started pacing. 

Azriel had told you to rest, a futile recommendation with so much battling within your mind. But above it all, you were thinking about him—about the memory and his words and him being your mate.

You had meant what you said on the balcony. You were still angry at the way everyone treated you like glass. There was still much that needed to be said and feelings that needed to be revealed, but you felt no ill will toward Azriel. Not in the way he expected you to. 

Still, part of you felt a sense of betrayal. The Azriel from your memory had seemed so devoted to you, so sure that he would stop at nothing to rectify any distance between the two of you. And you had seen glimpses of that Azriel in this strange state you were in now, but some of that was missing. 

You were having a hard time balancing his fear with his love, but more signs pointed towards love. 

Didn’t they? 

It didn’t help that you were contemplating this alone in an empty room, leaving tracks in the carpet and stringing your body so tight a soreness had begun creeping up your heels. You huffed and sat on the bed instead, biting your nails. 

Azriel was your mate. 

He loved you. 

You’d heard him say it multiple times now, in more ways than just the explicit words. 

Hadn’t you? 

“Our souls are linked—mates I mean.” 

“Fuck, I miss you.” 

“Yes, my love?”

“You’re okay, angel. You’re okay.” 

“Y/n, spending time with you—being around you—it’s as natural as breathing for me.”

“You are the one sure thing in my life.”

You rose from the bed abruptly, your body making a decision before your mind. You flung the door open to “your” bedroom and walked approximately six steps to the next room. You had assumed Azriel was staying close after spotting his shadows beneath the door a few weeks back, and there was no denying it now. 

You rapt your knuckles against the wood three times, his door flinging open before you could go for a fourth. 

The shadowsinger looked frazzled, his hair askew and his sweats haphazardly thrown on. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

You ignored the clear panic in his tone as you asked, “Do you love me?” 

“What?” 

Taking advantage of the confusion and shock rendering him vulnerable, you swept under Azriel’s arm on the door and stood your ground in his room. You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as Azriel robotically shut the door and turned around to face you. 

“I asked if you love me,” you repeated. “I only have one memory back and you say we’re mates. I… I’m inclined to believe that you do. I think I’ve heard you say it but only when you think I can’t hear you and—” 

“I do,” Azriel hurriedly replied, remaining rooted by the door. “I do love you. I love you so much that I haven’t been able to help myself in those moments. You have heard me say it. I’ve been saying it to your back for weeks.” 

Your chest heaved, emotion weighing it down. “Were you only staying away out of fear?” 

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed. “And it hurt—being around you. I was a fool.” 

Shadows swirled beneath your feet. 

“This is just hard for me. I don’t really understand where I fit in here. I have this memory of you saying one thing and then—” 

“I know. I’m so sorry, my love.” 

You blinked at the unabashed way he addressed you.

Azriel did not flinch. 

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you unleashed the question that had been plaguing you since you began pacing two hours ago. 

“Do you love me when I’m like this? Even now?” 

Azriel deflated, the panic extinguishing from his body and his expression falling. He took two long strides to meet you across the room, his hands hovering over your arms for a moment before he shook his head and touched you—perhaps despite his better judgment, his fear. 

“I will love you until the day I die, y/n. Even if you cast me aside. Even if you have no idea who I am.” He winced and shut his eyes, giving into instinct and pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you and it hurts. And I would take that pain to the grave if it meant I still had the privilege of belonging to you in some way.” 

You brushed your hands up to wrap your fingers around his wrists, your eyes open while his remained shut—like it pained him to even speak the words.

You wanted to say something back—a reassurance, a reciprocation, anything. But everything that would come out of your mouth would be a half-truth. You loved him, but did you? Did you really love him yet, or did you just love the way he spoke to you and how he made you feel? Did you know enough about him in the context of your life to love him? And if you couldn’t say it back right now would he—

“Hey,” Azriel’s slow tone brought you back to the present, his gaze now soft upon yours. “I can feel your panic. It’s okay, y/n. You don’t need to say anything.” 

Your lips parted. “You can feel it? Like my power?”

“Not quite. Do you trust me?” 

“Of course I do.” 

A familiar jolt invaded your ribs, making you gasp at its resurgence. You didn’t feel it often, but it was always jarring when it happened. And it always seemed to happen most when you were scared or hurt or in danger. Putting the pieces together now…

“That’s you?” you gaped, rubbing below your ribs. Azriel leaned back, giving you some space with a small smile on his lips. 

“It is. You can do it back if you know where to find it.” 

“Even with my magic blocked? Right now I can't even sense anything. Not like I could earlier.”

“Try,” Azriel encouraged with a small nod. 

And so you did, closing your eyes and searching within you for something to pull on—anything to grasp. There was a lot of empty space, some areas overflowing with the new memories you’d made, but in a far corner, dim and dull, was a glowing thread. 

You reached for it and yanked, the action sparking a more fluorescent gold. 

Azriel let out a small gasp. The beautiful flow of his laughter followed, a melody of relief and joy intertwined. Your mate stared back at you, his eyes crinkled at the corners and allowed his smile to overtake his face. 

“It has been so long since I’ve felt you. The bond has been there, but it hasn’t felt alive. It hasn’t felt like you.” 

You let out a small giggle at the ridiculous-sounding notion. “What has it felt like?” 

“I get your most heightened emotions, but they feel dull. They’ve been missing something.” 

“You feel my emotions?” you marveled, looking inward once more to inspect the link between you. “Why don’t I feel yours?” 

“I believe you have a few times,” Azriel admitted. His wings had begun to unfurl from their uncomfortable cinch at his back. “I’ve tried to keep them closed off during all of this. I didn’t want you trying to wade through someone else’s feelings when you were already confused.” 

“Could you…open them back up?” 

Azriel shot you a dubious look, knocking his head to the side before he passed you to sit on the side of the bed. “I don’t know, y/n. I’ve been… feeling a lot. I don’t want to put that on you.” 

“I’ve been feeling a lot,” you shot back, coming to stand in front of his bent knees. “And you’ve been taking all of it.” 

“I’m used to feeling you. I welcome it.” 

You crossed your arms and raised a brow. “Didn’t we discuss this? I want to get used to feeling you, Azriel. I want my life back, memories or not.”

Azriel let out a sigh, pressing his fingers together between his knees. He bowed his head for a moment before staring back up at you with a defeated expression. His wings lay bare and open along the bed behind him. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?” 

“Do you want to?” 

Another small, defeated chuckle from your mate, and then something came alive within you, that golden thread singing, finally living up to its full potential. You had to brace yourself at the full force of it, your hand landing on Azriel’s bicep as you stumbled. He placed a hand on your back and your eyes fluttered as you parsed through this new feeling. 

You felt him. 

His fear, anger, and frustration; he was filled with so much sadness and longing, and the pain lingering in undertones was dull yet overwhelming at the same time. Each emotion fought for dominance. But there was something else pulsing down the bond, something intentionally sent. 

Adoration, love, devotion—you weren’t sure what to label it but it undermined all else. 

You laughed in disbelief, bringing your free hand up to cover your mouth. You felt the warmness of your face as you went. This was indescribable. 

“How is it?” Azriel asked. His thumb was rubbing circles into your spine. “Too much?” 

“No,” you were quick to reply. “No, Az, this is—wow, you weren’t kidding when you described mating bonds to me.” 

“I’m glad you approve,” he teased. “Tell me if you want me to close it.” 

The thought of losing this connection seemed unreasonably terrible. You shook your head and pressed closer to your mate, slotting your body in between his legs. 

You remained in comfortable silence for several minutes, relishing in the bond tethering you to each other. Eventually, you migrated to lean against his thigh as you fiddled with the material of his shirt, and the position felt the same as the one on the balcony—like it was yours to take.

“I’m going to ask you something and you have every right to say no,” Azriel said, breaking the silence that had blanketed the room. You nodded for him to continue. “Would you stay with me tonight? In here?” 

“To sleep?” you asked, surprise evident in your raised voice. 

Azriel huffed out a laugh, lightly nudging his nose against your cheek. “To sleep,” he confirmed. “Just, with the bond open like this, I would feel better if you were near me. If you aren’t comfortable with that, I completely understand. I can—” 

“Yes.” 

[mattysprincess]

Love me like it’s the last thing you’ll do.

This is the prequel to this Drabble

SMUT! MDNI!!

It’s not proofread so if you find any mistakes don’t be shy to DM me!! And I’m always open for criticism and tips!

You and Mattheo had been dating for around 1 month, you kept your relationship Private for now because as much as he loved you… he was still scared of others viewing him as weak for actually having feelings, for being in love.

For the record, Mattheo Riddle has never been in a relationship nor romantically involved with any girl ever, it was all hookups and one night stands and so you understood that he wanted to take it slow, understanding his worries and fears.

The problem with that however is that you can’t show affection to eachother in public, leading to others thinking you’re single and free to hit on… which Mattheo can’t seem to handle very well.

Mattheo shoots you a quick text after some overly confident Gryffindor tried flirting with you.

‘My dorm. Now.’

That doesn’t sound too good… You immediately make your way to his dorm, not bothering to knock, as always, you slowly push the door open revealing a frowning Mattheo pacing in his room. “Why were you so close to him?” He immediately shoots and his tone confirms your bad feeling. “Mattheo-“ “Why the fuck were you even with him? Did he make you laugh? Is he better? Did you flirt with him-?!” “Mattheo.”

Your firm voice cuts through his questions and he looks at you as you step closer, standing right infront of him now. “Will you let me speak?’’ He runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but nods. “Thank you.. no, I did not flirt with him, no he didn’t make me laugh and no he isn’t better than you. He came up to me and tried to flirt but I told him I’m not interested and to use his awful flirting skills with someone else.” You cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumb back and forth gently. “You know you’re the only one I allow to flirt with me…”

Mattheos expression soften at your words and touch, feeling guilty for even thinking you would. “I’m sorry I just- I don’t know… I hate when guys think they can flirt with you and have a chance with you.” He lifts one hand to cup yours that’s on his cheek, squeezing lightly. You smile at his little gesture and apology, letting out a soft breath.

“It’s okay Matty… just next time let me speak first, yeah?” you chuckle softly, leaning up to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, making him let out a chuckle under his breath.

“I don’t deserve you…” he mutters lowly, looking at you like you’re the most precious living and breathing thing. You feel a light pink dust your cheeks, yet a frown finds its way to your lips. “Matty… you do deserve me.” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper and he just shakes his head. “Baby… you’re everything I never will be. You’re soft, delicate, sweet… you’re like a ray of sunshine wherever you go. You make people happy just by smiling at them, your voice brings others comfort and warmth. You’re every good thing bundled up into a person and I'm-" he sighs and sits down at the edge of his bed, looking down "and I’m me.” he murmurs.

The frown on your face stays as you walk up to stand between his legs, cupping his cheeks to coax him to look up at you. “look at me please my love..” you say softly, so much warmth in your tone that he can’t help the way his heart flutters, the way he looks up at you so willingly. He’d do anything if you’d just asked with that sweet voice of yours, one word, a simple syllable is enough to make him forget about everything else. “Mattheo you’re you and that’s what makes you so special.” you whisper, like sharing a secret with him “you say you’re not sweet, kind nor soft… but when you touch me it’s like I’m made out of the finest porcelain, when you talk to me I feel like I’m floating, you go out of your way to do anything that might make me crack a smile and you always help me with everything even if I keep telling you I can do it myself.” You smile at him, stroking his cheek and he smiles back lightly “I know you can do it yourself.. but I’m your boyfriend, I want to do it for you. You shouldn’t have to lift a finger when I’m around.” He takes one of your hands that’s on his cheek and brings it to his mouth, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “This is why you deserve me Mattheo… me and so much more.” You whisper, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

The kiss, supposed to be sweet, quickly gets deeper as he tangles one of his hands in your hair and his other pulls you onto his lap, pressing you flush against him. He nudges his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entrance that you grant him so willingly. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, exploring you like he’s done countless of times yet it still feels different. Softer, gentler, more passionate and like he’s pouring all of his love and affection into a single kiss. It’s making both your heart swell with love as well as make your pussy throb with excitement and desire and you know Mattheos feeling the same because the second you grind your hips down onto his you feel his bulge pressing flush against you, the only thing separating you being his pants and your panties.

“Fuck… baby I need you.” He murmur against your lips, his hands slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt, thumbs striking the undersides of your breasts as his mouth moves down to press hot opened mouthed kisses from your jaw down to the column of your throat.

“Then take me, Matty… I’m only yours to take.” You breathe out, Mattheos eyes darkening as the words leave your mouth. “That’s right… mine.” He murmurs against your skin and lifts your shirt up and over your head, leaning back to admire you. “Merlin… you’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful girl.. all mine baby.” He says under his breath, more to himself than to you.

His hands roam your body, squeezing and caressing whatever he can, all the while whispering sweet nothings against your skin. You let him, sitting in his lap all soft and pliant and patient, just letting him feel you and worship you however he wants. His hands reach your thighs, going up and under your skirt, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties. “You gonna be a good girl and let me worship your pretty little body, baby?” He murmurs against your neck and all you can do is nod as your stomach flutters in the best way possible. “So perfect, such a perfect girl for me hm?” He grins, pulling your panties down your legs and patting your thigh, silently telling you to stand so you do. He pulls them down completely, then slowly unzips your skirt, letting it drop and pool at your feet. You stand before him, bare as he finally unclasps your bra and removes the last piece of clothing that’s preventing him from seeing all of you. He stands, towering above you as he grabs your waist and lays you down on the bed. “You’re beautiful… fuck you’re so perfect, baby, I could look at you forever and never get bored of it.” He whispers under his breath, looking at you with soft eyes yet you see the hunger behind them, the simmering heat of desire he’s only ever had for you. You reach up, fingers tangling in his curls before coming down to cup his cheeks “I wanna see you too, Matty… please.” The second you utter please, whatever it is, Mattheo will always give you. So he leans down to peck your lips, a lingering kiss, before leaning back and taking off his shirt. Now it’s your eyes roaming over his body, unashamed desire on full display as well as admiration for his trained and scarred body. His hands go down his belt, undoing it quickly and then unzipping his pants, kicking them off and leaning back over you. “That needs to go too.” You whisper with a smile and point to his black boxers, he grins back at you amusedly “someone’s impatient.” You raise a brow at him “as if you want to wait any longer?” He chuckles at that, pressing kisses from your forehead to your cheek and then finally to your lips “I wanna take my time with you tonight, Angel. Let me show you I love you… how much you mean to me.” Your lips part slightly as you look up at him, he sounds so vulnerable and genuine… you could never deny him anything, not that you wanted to anyways so you nod, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m yours, Mattheo. Tonight, tomorrow, always.” He closes his eyes for a moment, heart beating dangerously fast and a smile graces his lips “and I’m yours, Angel. Tonight, tomorrow, always.”

With that he starts pressing open mouthed kisses down your body, taking a nipple between his lips as he reaches your breasts, making you moan as he swirls his tongue around it, sucking, licking and kissing while his hand is caressing the other bud. Your hands tangle in his unruly curls, tugging slightly as he gently bites you, not being able to resist it. He releases your right nipple with a pop, blowing cool air on the wet bud and making goosebumps raise on your entire body. He moves to the other, giving it the same attention before moving further down to your stomach, kissing and licking whatever he can. When he gets down to your hips, he sucks a hickey right above where your panties would be.

He moves lower and lower but right past where you need him most, making your squirm slightly and he smirks. “Be patient, baby… I’ll give you what you want, just be good a little longer.” He murmur against the inside of your thighs, biting you there gently and making you yelp slightly and tug at his hair. His tongue goes over the spot he bit gently, soothing the sting and saying sorry. He litters your thighs in hickeys and bite marks until your legs are clenching and trembling from the heat that’s pooled right between your legs. “Matty please…” he chuckles slightly, looking up from between your legs “such good manners for me…” he licks a long stripe up your pussy, making you moan out as your head drops back against the pillow.

He eats you out like a man starved, his tongue reaching whatever it can. He lifts your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your hips, one hand sprawled over your stomach possessively. Moans and whimpers tumble from your lips, his name on your tongue like a prayer as he devours you whole. The only thing on his mind is your pleasure, how to make you feel good… how he wants to be the only one to ever see you or make you feel this way, driven by those thoughts the dives in with even more fervour “I can feel you clench angel… cum for me, right on my tongue like a good girl.”

Those words push you over the edge, your whole body tensing up as you clench your thighs around his head and he swears he’s in heaven. He laps up your release, making you twitch and only when he’s made sure he’s got every last drop he lifts his head, crawling back over you and licking his lips “I might just need to give you a new nickname… you taste so sweet, fuck I’d give up every meal on this planet if it meant I got to eat you for the rest of my life,” he murmurs with a smile and you look up at him, chest heaving with pants, small smile on your lips “so what will you call me?” He grins at that “I think sweetness would fit you quite well, wouldn’t it?” That tears a small giggle from your lips, making Mattheo grin wider.

After calming down a bit, you tense up again as you feel his dick prodding at your entrance “oh you didn’t think we’re done, did you?” He grins “I’d be disappointed if we were, Matty.” And with that he slowly pushes in, making sure you feel every inch of his rock hard cock as he splits you open. You gasp, clawing at his back, it was always difficult to take him but with his gentle words and soft coos it somehow seems so much more intense then all the times before.

“Shhh I’ve got you angel, I’ve got you… relax for me, can you do that? Can you be a good girl and relax for me?” He coos softly on your ear, making you want to do whatever he asks without question so you try your best to relax for him. He feels your walls unclench the slightest bit and smiles, peppering soft kisses along your face and jaw once’s he’s fully inside you. “So good for me… you’re doing so good, I’m so proud of you.” He whispers against your skin and you can’t help but clench around him again, making him groan.

He lets you adjust for a couple seconds before he pulls back until only his tip remains and pushes back in, making you let out a loud moan. He grins and does it again, setting a slow rhythm, each thrust hard and deep, you swore you could feel him in your stomach. He grunts above you, small hisses and pants leaving his lips and it’s the hottest things you’ve ever experienced.

He slowly picks up the pace, grabbing your hips with one hand while the other goes to your neck, squeezing lightly which oddly brings you comfort. “Matty..!” Your breathless voice rings out and Mattheo cant help but go harder, almost pounding into you before pulling out completely, a whine slipping from your lips. But before you could get any word of protest out he grabs you and turns you around, hands and knees digging into the mattress as he slips back inside on one long thrust. “I’m gonna take you like this and you’re gonna love it, okay?” He leans down, his chest pressing against your back as his one hand slips down to press against your stomach while he moves in and out of you. “F-fuck… Mattheo oh my god..!” You feel him deep inside you, so much more intensely then before and your face drops into the sheets as he pounds into you from behind.

“Fuck you’re amazing… I love you much, can you feel how deep I’m inside you? No one will ever get that deep because You. Are. Mine.” Each word is punctuated with a hard thrust, your eyes roll back and in that moment all you think about is him, how he makes you feel and how you’ll only ever be his for the rest of your life. The hand on your stomach reaches down, playing with your clit as he pounds into you impossibly faster “come with me, sweetness. Come on my cock while I come inside you.” He breathes into your ear and you all but comply, clenching around him tightly and coming for the second time that night with a loud moan of his name.

He rides out your orgasm, his thrusts growing sloppy and with a few more his body jerks and he sheaths himself deep inside you, filling you up with his hot cum as you twitch from the feeling. You fall onto the mattress and he rolls you over onto your back before collapsing on top of you, his head buried in your neck as you both try to catch your breaths.

“I love you…”

Im so sorry for being inactive guys, I’ve been a bit stressed lately. Take this as an apology and happy New years! Love all of you <3

~Princess

Taglist: @revesephemeres @ur-local-wizard

[lelengerine]

pairing. cafe owner!chenle x regular customer!reader

synopsis. chenle might just have a thing for his cafe's regular customer, based on a req!

genre. cafe au, love at first sight mixed with a little puppy love, chenle’s like a goldie retriever here :(( i swear, mentions of food, reader uses she/her pronouns for this one, ft. jisung and jaemin, pls lmk if anything was missed!

wc. 1.0k words

notes. i love this one so much (i say that almost every time i have a new thing written) but it's chenle who are we kidding ofc i have favoritism… slight. likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

m.list

chenle wasn’t the type to hover. 

he trusted his staff—jisung handled the customers, jaemin worked his magic in the kitchen. that left him to observe from the sidelines, content to manage from a comfortable distance. it wasn’t laziness, more like knowing where he fit in the daily rhythm of the café.

but the moment you walked in, everything shifted.

it was nothing special at first. the soft chime of the door, the way the afternoon light caught the edge of your face as you stepped inside, looking around with a quiet curiosity. chenle had been by the counter, flipping absentmindedly through the register logs. he wasn’t paying attention to much until he saw you. it was like the air in the room shifted, pulling his focus to you as if he’d been waiting for something but hadn’t realized it until that moment.

you took a few steps in, glancing at the menu board above the counter. jisung, ever efficient, moved to take your order, but chenle stepped forward without thinking, his voice coming out before he even realized it.

“i’ll take care of it,” he muttered, sliding in front of the lanky boy and ignoring the surprised look thrown in his direction.

jaemin, who was watching from the back with flour dusted on his apron, gave chenle a knowing look, but said nothing.

chenle paid neither of them any attention, turning his gaze to you whose eyes were eagerly scanning the menu above the counter. “what can i get for you?”

you smiled, polite but distant, ordering a cup of mocha latte—voice reaching him in soft but clear syllables. chenle couldn’t help but hold onto each word as you spoke, wanting the moment to stretch just a little longer.

when you took your seat by the window, chenle made your drink himself, pushing aside jisung’s attempts to do his job. it wasn’t even about making the best coffee; it was about making your coffee. a strange feeling stirred in his chest as he watched the milk swirl into the espresso, the heart-shaped foam settling on top with more care than he’d ever thought to put into a simple drink.

it became a routine after that. you came in regularly, and each time, chenle found himself moving before anyone else could. jisung and jaemin didn’t even try to get involved anymore, knowing how stubborn their boss could be. they’d just exchange quiet glances and sometimes a snort of laughter when chenle would rush to be the first to greet you.

he knew your order by heart—mocha latte, no whipped cream, always served in the same spot by the window. he’d bring it to you, trying not to hover too long, hoping each time that maybe this would be the day you’d stay a little longer, or say something more than the usual thank you.

but you never did.

you’d sip your coffee, eyes on your book, and the world outside would blur as you disappeared into your reading. he’d watch, just for a moment, trying to convince himself that the way you quietly smiled to yourself meant something, that maybe you noticed how much care he put into each cup, but weeks passed, and nothing changed. 

you’d finish your drink, leave quietly, and chenle would be left with the echo of your absence. he started to wonder if it had all been in his head—if maybe he’d read too much into your polite smiles and the way you kept coming back. the doubt crept in slowly, like the steady ticking of a clock, until it was all he could think about every time you left without saying more.

today felt the same. you walked in, and he already had your mocha ready before you reached the counter, your usual spot by the window waiting for you. you gave him that same smile, soft and distant, and he tried to hide the way his heart leapt when you looked just a little surprised that he had your drink ready before you asked.

“you remembered,” you said, tone light, almost teasing.

chenle shrugged, trying to seem casual even as his pulse quickened. “it’s not hard. you come in here a lot.”

you laughed—soft, barely more than a breath, but it was enough to make his chest tighten. a small thank you made its way past your lips, and then, just like every other time, you disappeared into your little corner with a book in hand, sipping your drink as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

chenle watched you from behind the counter, torn between the quiet hope that had kept him going for weeks and the creeping disappointment that maybe, just maybe, this was all it would ever be. the unspoken silence between you stretched on, and by the time you finished your drink, the weight of his thoughts had settled into something heavier.

you left, like always, slipping out the door with only a glance back. chenle sighed, staring at the empty cup you’d left behind. another day, another missed chance. he walked over to clear the table, mind already drifting to the usual routine, until something caught his eye.

a small piece of paper, folded neatly beneath the cup.

he picked it up, his breath catching as he unfolded it, scanning the words quickly, then again, just to be sure he wasn’t imagining it.

i’d like it better if you sat down and ate with me instead of staring from behind the counter next time. my treat, pinky promise.

your phone number was scribbled beneath the note, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

chenle froze for a second, blinking at the piece of paper in disbelief, then suddenly grinned, pumping his fist in the air with a quiet yet triumphant “yes!”

from behind the counter, jisung and jaemin watched him, snickering quietly, exchanging knowing looks.

“has he finally gone insane?” jisung said in a deadpan.

jaemin just shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “just let the boy live a little. it’s not always that we catch him like this.”

“that boy is still your boss.”

“eh, he’s still younger than me.”

“your point being…?”

and despite being more than aware of jisung and jaemin’s bickering from behind the counter, chenle didn’t care. all he could think about was the next time you walked in, and how this time, he wouldn’t just be serving you.

this time, he’d be sitting with you.

[vampcubus]

𝐊𝐍𝐘 𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : kyojuro, tanjiro, and zenitsu.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : reader is implied to be fem, the term "wife" is used!

𝐊𝐘𝐎𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐊𝐔

— As much as pet names make his heart soar, he melts when you call him by his first name. The tender way your lips form around each syllable as if his name was something so dear to you. It makes his stomach flip every time you utter it. Kyojuro. Kyojuro. Kyojuro~ nothing sets his heart ablaze quite like your adoring voice echoing his name back to him.

— He’s Rengoku to most that know him, big brother to Senjuro, but to you he’s just Kyojuro. Your Kyojuro.

— However, there are some pet names that get those butterflies going: my love, honey, baby—something about being called baby makes him soften visibly. He gets that wet smile on his face and big eyes that say, Yes that’s me.

— He really really likes it when you call him “husband” there’s something so domestic and coy about it that makes his heart flutter. 

“Husbanddd, I require your assistance!” You often shout to him from the other room when you need help with something, and whether it’s simply a dish from a high shelf or a piece of furniture that needs to be moved, he pops his head into the room with an enthusiastic “Yes, wife!?”

(He especially likes it if you aren’t married yet, so when you teasingly call him “husband” it sounds like a promise.)

— Kyojuro has a multitude of pet names for you! He thinks your name is beautiful but he only calls you it when he’s feeling serious. Prepare to adopt second names by the day. 

— Names such as: my love, my flame, my heart’s fire, darling flame, my heart.

— And if he’s feeling particularly syrupy? He'll sing out names like sunflower and sunshine. cus you’re the ever-glimmering light of his life 🥺

— Everything that comes out of this man’s mouth sounds like a declaration of love.

— Another one he’s fond of is little flame.

“I’m not so little!“ you’d proclaim, making a face as he pats your head affectionately.

“Compared to me you are!” he’d laugh with his whole chest, teeth showing as he tosses his head back in glee.

— And even if you’re taller than him (which I’m sure he’d find incredibly enchanting, being able to rest his head on your shoulder and standing on his tippy toes to kiss you) you’re still his cute little flame.

𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐎

— He’s pure as they come when it comes to romance; shy but loyal to a fault! Tanjiro is a little clueless on how to go about the whole relationship business being so sheltered, all of his knowledge of courting rituals and such he observed from his parents (and they weren’t around very long to teach him 💀)

— Tanjiro honestly loves to call you by your name. He thinks it’s pretty and suits you perfectly. It took a great deal of conditioning to convince him it was alright to call you by your first name. To call you by your first name feels like an honor, so naturally, he’d want to utter it as often as you’d allow. 

— You can’t help but love the way he almost whispers it like a precious secret between you. His gentle voice always takes on an adoring quality when he says your name, every syllable honeyed and reverent.

— Tanjiro’s pet names are sickeningly sweet things like: sweetheart, flower, beautiful, and petal.

Nothing better than waking up to his kind gaze already trained on you, a muttered “good morning, beautiful.” against your temple as you’re still stirring from sleep. He gets that lovesick puppy look on his face when you reply with, “good morning to you too, handsome.”

— Tanjiro would let you call him anything you wanted, no matter how silly. You can’t go wrong with a cute shortening of his name like Tanji or a simple “my love” if you’re feeling sappy—and with such a loving partner as Tanjiro, wouldn’t you? He loves you so passionately it’s hard not to let the syrupy pet names fall like rain when he looks at you like that.

— His favorite though? Honey. Something about it just makes his brain turn to mush, he’d do anything for you when you call him that.

“Tanjiro honey, the bathroom door’s stuck shut again!” You’d holler, bouncing a fussing child with one hand and trying to pry the stubborn door open with the other. 

He’s at your side in seconds, wrenching the door open with considerable force. You sigh in relief, smiling when you feel his lips against your cheek, and watch as he shushes your child by simply stroking a thumb over their forehead.

“Thank you, honey,” you sighed, planting your own kiss to your husband’s cheek. He only beams, holding the door open for you and scooping your child into his own arms to let you have some much-needed alone time. 

𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐀

— I think it’s pretty obvious that Zenitsu is an avid pet name enjoyer, both giving and receiving! 

— He struggles not to shorten your name or replace it entirely with sugary pet names before you’re even official. And once you are irrevocably his? Prepare to forget your real name because you’ll never hear it from him again. Y/n? Who’s that?

— Your new names include: dearest, my love, sweetie, angel, peach blossom, sugar, honey—the list goes on and on! 

— His pet names only get sillier and sappier, but you’ll never have a dull moment with him that’s for sure. Zenitsu also uses the silly ones to make you laugh and can you blame him? It's his favorite sound <3

— Zenitsu doesn’t expect you to pick up his habit and start calling him your own sweet names.

— The first time you called him sweetheart his head whipped around so fast, eyes sparkling as he looked left and right, pointing to himself to ensure you were speaking to him. And when you nod he nearly bursts into joyous tears, fists clinging onto your kimono. It’s the first time he’d been given a sweet name, he can’t help blubbering his approval into your clothes.

— Zenitsu turns to mush before your eyes for any pet names, but his personal favorites to be called are: sweetheart (he melts every time), my love, my heart, and baby—that name in particular makes him get all misty-eyed and following after you like a puppy (another name I HIGHLY recommend calling him)

— Definitely soft for being called “husband.” it reminds him that he’s found someone that isn’t going to give up on him. No matter how many times he cries or falters; you’ll always be right there by his side. And then of course being married is his ultimate fantasy, so he can’t help but puff up with pride when you refer to him as your husband.

— Call him “pretty boy” and he’ll actually die. local man found dead in the marketplace after being called pretty by his own wife.

— it gets to a point where he grimaces when you use his actual name like who tf is Zenitsu? He’s sweetheart? He’s baby? 🤨

[insidekatmind]

you're so perfect~Jude Bellingham

Genre: fluff and cute

You were looking at yourself in the mirror with a pleased smile, smoothing the fabric of your short dress, which fell perfectly on you. It was simple yet elegant, making you feel special. As you turned to check every angle, Jude entered the room, and his eyes lit up as soon as he saw you.

“Wow,” he said, holding his breath as he approached you. “You are just… spectacular.” His eyes swept over the dress, lingering on every detail, and he got closer, brushing your arm. “I can’t believe how perfect you are.”

You felt your face warm, lowering your gaze with an embarrassed smile. “You’re exaggerating,” you murmured, but he shook his head, firm in his admiration.

“I’m not exaggerating at all,” he replied, with that sweetness in his eyes that made you melt. “In fact, I should say it more often. You’re stunning, you’re… incredible.” His fingers intertwined with yours, and he lifted your hand, bringing it gently to his lips. “I’m the luckiest man in the world, you know?”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, but this time your reflection seemed different, illuminated by all the sweetness Jude could convey with just a gaze and a few words. “I’m lucky too,” you whispered, and he held you even tighter, making you feel loved like never before."

Jude smiled, tilting his head to look at you more intensely. He brought his face closer to yours, brushing your cheek with a light kiss. “Every time I look at you,” he murmured, “I wonder how it’s possible that you are mine.”

You felt your cheeks warm as he continued to hold you close, as if he feared letting you go even for a moment. “And this dress…” he continued, casting an admiring glance at the fabric that caressed your curves. “I’ll have to be careful tonight. With you by my side, I won’t have eyes for anyone else, and I expect the same from anyone who dares to look at you.”

You laughed, amused and surprised by his protectiveness. “Jude, are you saying you’ll be jealous tonight?” you teased, locking eyes with him.

He laughed, but you could see a deep sincerity in his eyes. “It will be inevitable,” he admitted with a smile. “You know I can’t resist.” His fingers slid gently along your back, leaving a trail of shivers as he gazed at you with that same intensity. “But tonight,” he whispered, leaning in closer to your ear, “I want you to know that you’re the only one who truly captures every one of my thoughts, every one of my breaths.”

You felt your heart race, overwhelmed by his words. You embraced him, letting his presence envelop you completely. In that moment, you understood that every word, every gaze from Jude was like a silent but intense declaration of love."

Jude looked at you with a sweet expression, his eyes shining with emotion. “Only mine,” he repeated softly, as if he wanted to savor every syllable. “You don’t know how happy it makes me to hear you say that.”

He took your hand and guided you away from the mirror, turning you to look at yourself from every angle. “You know,” he continued, caressing your arm, “it’s not just because of the dress that you’re so beautiful. It’s everything… the way you smile, the way you look at me. Even without anything on, you would always be perfect.”

You blushed, feeling warmth spread throughout your body. It was incredible how Jude always made you feel so special, so loved. “You always say the right things,” you whispered, moving closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I can’t believe I have you in my life.”

He held you even tighter, his face just inches from yours. “And I can’t believe I found you,” he replied softly, brushing your lips with a sweet, gentle kiss, as if he wanted to imprint that moment in time. Then he pulled back just slightly to look into your eyes, his gaze full of sweetness and admiration. “You’re the love of my life,” he murmured, and those words resonated in your heart, making you feel even more secure in the deep bond you shared.

[honeekyuu]

love affair. [tsukishima kei x f!reader] chapter three.

>>The unsavory reputation that Tsukishima Kei has built for himself as the Sendai Frogs' rudest rookie puts his upcoming contract renewal at risk

or

Tsukki really needs a girlfriend, and you really need everyone to stop calling you his pathetic, pining best friend<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist.

a/n: dont talk to me about that scene after he wakes up and gets angry in her bed okay dont fucking talk to me about it,,,,, that was the filthiest non-smut scene ive ever written

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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Kei stays at your apartment until the end of the semester.

He goes home a couple times a week, of course – he has to do laundry, and he and Yamaguchi have a pre-set Tuesday night plan of sitting on the couch and playing video games until it’s late enough that Tadashi almost always sleeps through his first class on Wednesdays.

But… he somehow finds himself in your bed every other night of the week.

The first two weeks or so, he comes up with excuses.

‘ It’s getting cold, and your heating hasn’t kicked in yet. ’

‘ If I go home this late, it’ll wake Yamaguchi. ’

‘ We’re going out in the morning, anyway. It only makes sense. ’

He does it until, one morning, you roll over and lean your chin on his chest, looking up at him with those doe eyes he likes so much.

‘ You do realize I’ve already agreed to let you keep staying here, right? We talked about it that first morning.’

He’d remembered. He just hadn’t been sure if you’d meant it. But since you’d brought it up again, he’d stopped asking. He’d just allowed himself to get used to falling asleep and waking up next to you.

It makes sleeping on his own for two nights a week utter hell. He can’t get to sleep no matter what he tries. The only thing that works is falling asleep on a video call with you, like a stupid, lovesick teenager. He’s terrified you’ll tell Kiyoko, who would immediately tell Yamaguchi, who would never let him live it down. But it seems you’re just as shy about it, about the fact that you’ve become dependent on each other to do something as simple as sleep.

And sleep is all you do. He’s never dared to cross a line with you in bed. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t try anything, not there, and he’s stuck to it. He lets himself kiss you stupid on the couch before bed, and in your kitchen when you make him coffee before class, and against the wall of your bathroom when your outfit and makeup look a little too good on you.

But never in bed. It’s too tempting – you’re too tempting. And you have no fucking clue.

You just prance around your apartment in those stupid little shorts, with your stupid little smile and that stupid little way you say his name–

‘ Tsukki!’, your giggle excited and your eyes bright.

‘Hey, Tsukki-’, your tone distracted while you sort through mail.

‘Tsukki…’, your eyes wide and your voice whiny while you ask him for something.

It drives him crazy. It makes him want to grab your face and kiss the pout right off your mouth. It makes him want to buy and do anything you want, even when you want nothing at all. It makes him want to whisper your name and admit things that he shouldn’t.

But nothing makes him want to do any of those things more than when you say his name properly, with a little edge in your voice.

‘ Tsukishima.’ , your hands on your hips and your eyebrows arched in annoyance.

‘I swear, Tsukishima- ’, your breath sharp and shallow because you’re stopping yourself from picking a fight.

‘ Tsukishima… ’, your lips close and your eyes twinkling with amusement, because you remember the things he’d been drunk enough to admit at that party.

When the syllables of his name stack in your mouth like that, he’s overcome with thoughts that one should never have about a friend. Thoughts of pinning you up against the wall and daring you to say his name like that again. Thoughts of bending you over the side of the couch and showing you just how in charge you really are. Thoughts of kissing you in that tiny bed, and then making you cry in it, your face buried in the sheets and his name – ‘ Tsukki, please- ’ – whined so prettily.

But he doesn’t do any of that. He just watches you use his name in that scolding, reprimanding way, and he smiles. He sits there and smiles and pretends that every fiber of his very being isn’t aching to show you how to use that smart ass mouth of yours.

And yet, despite the torture, he stays. He stays, waking up next to you every morning and enduring the pain of your presence, and he has no idea why. Maybe it’s the way you hum to yourself while you make breakfast and wince when your coffee’s too hot, because it somehow always is. Maybe it’s the way you think aloud when you do chores, your grocery list rattled off while you stand in the corner folding laundry. Maybe it’s the way you gravitate toward him as if on some biological clock, every half hour marked by your fingers combing through his hair while he works or your arms wrapping around him from behind while he’s putting his shoes on to leave for practice.

Maybe it’s the way you treat him exactly the same but completely different.

You’re the girl he’s always known, rolling those pretty little eyes and telling him without hesitation when he’s being an idiot. You still judge him when he says stupid shit, and you’re still strong about your boundaries and your ability to hold a grudge. But… something’s different.

You sit closer lately, your legs draped over his knee and your side pressed against his. You let him kiss you even when you’re mad, and sometimes – sometimes — that’s all it takes to get you to forgive him. You call him on your way home from class – not because you have anything specific to say, but because you simply feel like talking his ear off while you walk.

He’s not sure which of these things is the reason he stays, but he thinks about every single one. He thinks about them, and he seeks them out. He calls you on the days that you forget to call him yourself. He takes his headphones off if he sees you go into the kitchen, because the chance of hearing you hum off-key is high. He gravitates to you when you’re too immersed in work to pay attention to him, his body draping over yours. He pulls you into the spot between his legs when you watch TV, because sometimes, having your legs hooked over his knee isn’t enough. Sometimes, he wants your back against his chest and your thighs in his hands, your head against his shoulder and your breathing synchronized with his own.

God, he thinks he’s obsessed with you.

Maybe that’s why – on Friday nights, when Yamaguchi and Kiyoko come over – his roommate always looks at him a little too long, the freckled boy staring in suspicion. Tadashi plays along with Kiyoko’s jokes about the two of you, but his eyes are always narrowed when no one’s looking, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips before he looks away. And, when Kei inevitably mumbles that he’ll be staying the night instead of going home with Yamaguchi, maybe that’s why his roommate always meets his eyes evenly, like he’d been expecting it.

Maybe that’s why, on a Saturday morning in mid-December, he finally gets tired of watching your body insecurity get in the way of everything. In the way of that stupid little smile he’s starting to fall for, in the way of the sweet way you say his name. In the way of you seeing how painfully obvious it is that he’s obsessed with you.

It’s that Saturday morning in mid-December that he finally loses his mind, in that tiny bed with you.

–

He wakes on that cold morning to you shifting beside him, wrapped up in his arms. Your back is pressed to his chest, one of his arms wrapped snugly around your middle and the other tucked under your head. You wriggle against him, and, in his half-groggy state, he genuinely wonders if you’re trying to start something with him (later, he chalks that one up to wishful thinking).

You shift again, your hips moving under his arm, and he hums.

“‘s up?” He says, sighing into your hair and pulling you tighter against him. You curve your back protectively when he does, one of your hands coming down on his wrist.

“Uhm,” You mumble. “Can you… Uhm-” 

It’s the discomfort in your voice that clues him into the fact that something’s going on with you.

He peels one eye open and examines you, and, when he still doesn’t understand what’s happening, he opens his other eye and lifts his head. You’re holding your phone with one hand, the screen displaying a comment posted under a photo of the two of you.

[8:54 AM] keisgirl : is it me, or is she gaining weight?????

It’s one of the most-liked comments, with the replies underneath it varying from neutral agreement to outright hateful bullshit.

You haven’t realized that he’s seen your phone. “Could you let me go, please?” You ask, in a voice so small and vulnerable that he’s tempted to listen to you. But he doesn’t, because he knows what this is. This is you falling back in on yourself, closing your body off to him because you don’t want him to touch or look at you.

He sits up quickly, ignoring the noise of surprise you make when his arm slides out from under your head. He snatches your phone away and turns his back to you, scrolling through the comments.

“Tsukki-” You say, recovering and sitting up. You press your chest to his shoulder, reaching for your phone, but he just brushes your hand away, shamelessly pulling up the rest of your open tabs. He knows he shouldn’t, but he needs to check.

Unfortunately, he knows you a little too well.

The Trajectory of Frogs’ Tsukishima Kei’s Relationship with Plus-Sized Girlfriend: Will They Last?

Y/l/n Y/n: In Love or Gold-Digging?

How to Lose Weight in Time for the Holidays

30 Pounds in 30 Days: New Diet Takes World by Storm

Kei’s not sure he’s ever been this angry before. He stares emptily down at your phone, finally letting you pluck it out of his open palm. His hands shake just slightly, and he knows you can see them by how still you are.

“ Tsukki, ” You whisper after a moment. “I-”

“Are you out of your mind?” He says, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I just-”

He whirls on you, eyes alight. “Are you out of your mind , Y/n?” He jabs a finger at your phone. “What are you gonna do, starve yourself because of something that someone on the internet said?”

“It’s not just one person,” You argue weakly. “I’ve been gaining wei-”

“So?” He barks. “So what? I can’t tell.”

You roll your eyes, and he actually feels his eye twitch. “I think you’re a little biased, Tsukki-”

“No,” He says. Laughs, because you’re really going to make him lose it this time. “No, I’m not biased. I’m important.” He rips your phone from your hand again, dropping it on the nightstand as he turns in place and climbs over you. “After everything, you still listen to a bunch of shitheads who know nothing about you. And then you call me biased, because I have an accurate fucking opinion about how you look.”

You gasp when he puts a hand on your shoulder, shoving you down on the mattress. He grabs your thighs and pries them open, settling himself between them. “Why did you want me to let you go, Y/n?”

You swallow hard. “I… I don’t know-”

“You didn’t want me to touch you. Why?” He anchors his hands to your waist, dragging you toward him. “Did you think I was suddenly going to change my mind if I could feel your body? That I was going to feel you under my hands and realize that I was repulsed by you? That I only like you with your clothes on, that I hadn’t considered what might be under them? Is that what you were scared of?”

You don’t answer him for a moment, so he grips your hips tight, his thumbs sure to leave prints on your skin later. “Yes,” You whisper finally, shutting your eyes. “I just… don’t feel pretty-”

“Look at me,” He says, a heated sigh leaving him. You don’t, so he tugs on your thighs hard. “ Look at me, Y/n.”

You pry your eyes open, staring into his own with trepidation.

“Now listen to what I’m about to say to you,” He snaps. “Can you do that, for once ? Or are you going to keep acting stupid? Because I’m not in the habit of having stupid friends.”

Your brow furrows in irritation, and he’s glad to see it. He’s glad to see anything that isn’t that haunting insecurity. He sits back on his heels, keeping his eyes locked on yours. 

“What you seem to be fundamentally misunderstanding, Y/n-” He growls. “-is the idea that the way you look and the way you’re shaped is something that is, without a doubt, unattractive. You think your body is something that no one would ever want to touch — you don’t seem to fucking comprehend that some people might like the way you feel.”

He squeezes your hips once. “ Some people might like that they can hold you like this – that the more of you that there is, the more that they can hold while they fuck you.” Your face is starting to turn red, and he feels immense pride for it. He anchors himself to you, shifting his weight and dragging you down against his hips, over and over again. “ Some people want to see what your body looks like when it bounces like this, Y/n-” You’re starting to gasp, and Kei’s unable to stop the way his eyes trail down the length of your body while he moves you. 

“Some people are obsessed with the idea of making you look like this,” He says, his own breath coming short for a moment. “Because some people want to rail you, and no one could ever look as good getting railed as you would.”

“Tsukki,” You whisper, your chest rising and falling sharply with each gasp. He stops moving you – lets you breathe for just a moment – and slides his hands up your sides, his palms absorbing the heat in your skin while his fingers fan out greedily over your ribs. Your shirt rises with his movement, and he stops when the fabric is bunched up under your breasts. His fingertips skim the skin there, notably missing that lacy underwire that’s always kept him at bay.

He’d noticed that you don’t wear a bra to bed – of course you don’t, that would be unreasonable to expect, even with him here �� but fuck, if he isn’t just now realizing what that means. He chews on the inside of his bottom lip, eyeing you hungrily. 

The moment to breathe seems to have been enough for you, because your fingers close around his wrists. His first thought is that you’re stopping him from going further, that maybe he should back off. But you don’t push him away.

If anything, your eyes seem glazed over with desire, your breath still coming a little short.

“ Tsukki ,” You breathe, shifting your hips against his carefully — there’s no way you can’t feel how hard he is right now. Your voice is quiet, like before, but now there’s more. More, like you want him to keep talking to you.

He can do that.

“Do you believe me yet?” He says. His voice shakes with his breath, and he swallows hard to hide how you’re affecting him. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

When you don’t answer him this time, he can’t tell if it’s because you really don’t have an answer, or if it’s because you’re fucking with him. Because the way your eyes drag down his body – the way you open your thighs an inch more and press your hips against his gently, an invitation – makes him think you might be fucking with him.

“I’m just,” You mumble, your legs starting to wrap around his waist. “I dunno, Tsukki.”

You must be fucking with him.

“No?” He says, his hands sliding down to hook under your thighs and peel them off of him. Your eyes widen, his own narrowing. He extracts himself from between your legs, as much as he doesn’t want to, and tosses your legs sideways onto the bed. You gasp, alarmed, and he grips your waist, hoisting you up by force and turning you over. You scramble to catch yourself, your hands and knees hitting the mattress.

“What-”

Kei sits up behind you, finding his place on your hips again and yanking you back. Your ass presses against him, and he holds you there, no matter how hard you wriggle. Your heavy breathing is audible, and he’s thankful for it, because the way you’re moving against him is not making his own breath very quiet at all.

“Still not sure, sweetheart?” He says, flattening a hand against your back and pushing down on it. You collapse on your elbows with a yelp, and he slides his fingers up and takes a fistful of your hair. “How about this-” He snaps his hips forward, feeling his thighs slap against yours and your ass ripple from the force. You choke out a moan, and he does it again, against his better judgment. 

“You think the right guy wouldn’t die to feel you like this, Y/n? You think he wouldn’t do anything for a chance to make you sound like this?”

You moan again in response, and his stomach flips with excitement – because the syllables that had just stacked in your mouth were undeniably those of his own name. 

He rocks his hips into yours again as he uses his hold on your hair to yank you up. Your breath catches in your throat, and you lift up blindly, so trusting and sweet while he pulls you back against his chest.

“What was that, princess?” He says, breathless and embarrassingly eager. “What’d you say?”

Your lips purse, and he knows he was right, because you’re looking up at him with embarrassment. He releases your hair, his hand coming down to wrap around the column of your throat. He stares down into your eyes, feeling your pulse skip under his palm. 

“ Again, Y/n ,” He whispers, watching goosebumps break out over your skin. Two syllables fill your mouth, the same he’d heard the first time.

“ Tsukki.”

He’s so fucked.

Releasing you, he plants a hand on your back and shoves you onto your stomach, handling you roughly as he turns you back around. He clambers between your legs, relishing the way your thighs open and wrap around his waist, so welcoming. He cages you in, hovering over you as he stares. You stare back, eyes wide and breath short.

And then he stops, because he knows he should. 

He has to. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers, eyes searching your face. You seem taken aback by his question, your brow furrowing. 

And then you blink, and your eyes clear.

And, for all that he’s silently begging you to say yes – begging for this to be such a simple choice for you – he’s glad he asked. Because he can see the realization starting to hit you. That this will go somewhere, somewhere fast and irreversible, if you say yes.

You swallow, and then your eyes look away from his, and he takes that as his answer. 

“Okay,” He sighs, hanging his head. “Okay.” He starts to lift away from you, but your hands are on his biceps.

“Wait.” You search him anxiously. “Tsukki, I- I just…”

“I know,” He says, nodding. He’s a little disappointed — mostly just a little hard and more than a little horny — but there’s no world in which he’d rather you do something you’re not sure about. “It’s okay. I know. That’s why I asked.”

You look like you want to cry. “Are you mad at me?”

He glares down at you. “Seriously?”

“I feel like I led you on-”

“Y/n, of course I’m not fucking mad at you.” He sighs, slowly extracting himself from between your thighs and sitting beside you. “I’m not that guy-”

“I know!” You sit up on your knees, hands on his shoulders. “I know, Tsukki. I just… Are we good?”

He laughs tiredly, dropping his head back against the wall. “ Yes , Y/n. We’re good. I’m not gonna make you do something you’re not ready for.”

You shake him. “But are we good, Tsukki? Us?”

He looks at you, taking you in. You look so scared. And as much as he wants to yell at you, to snap at you for being this worried that he would be upset with you over this, he knows he can’t. Not when you’re this scared.

“Will you please stop listening to other people? I really can’t keep doing this. I mean it this time,” He says. You pause, and then you nod. He lifts his brows. “You believe me? You trust me?” 

You give him a shy laugh, your face radiating heat. “I think you kind of… made it clear what you think. I believe you, Tsukki.”

He tries to fight the blush that’s rising. He’d really lost his mind there. “Then, yes,” is all he says, pushing your hair behind your ear and taking your face in one hand. “We’re good. I promise.” 

You sniffle, but you nod, and the doe eyes you give him make his heart skip. “Okay. Thank you. I… I’ll be ready soon, I swear-”

“You don’t have to promise me something like that, Y/n. You don’t have to be ready soon, and it doesn’t even have to be me.” He bumps his forehead against yours, the closest he can come right now to shaking you in frustration.

“It’ll be you,” You admit, glancing away nervously. Kei thinks his heart actually stops in his chest when he hears that. 

“You’re… Are you sure?” He says, barely a whisper. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You just laugh, watery and sweet and perfectly capable of killing him where he sits. “Of course it’ll be you. Don’t be stupid.”

“ Me? ” He can’t help but laugh, sharp and full of disbelief. “You’re telling me not to be stupid? Are you joking?”

When he ropes you into his arms and starts berating you for being stupid, you only giggle and let him, and he thinks — not to be dramatic or anything — that he might just do anything to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

He’s so fucked.

–

He goes home later that day, to get some more clothes and because Tadashi’s going home for Christmas.

When he enters the townhouse – brushing off the paparazzi at the gate asking if he plans to move in with you since he’s spending so much time at your place – he finds his roommate rushing around the house in a flurry of open suitcases and screaming.

“Uh-” Kei ducks as a pair of boxers goes flying over his head. “Are you okay ?”

“ I overslept! ” Yamaguchi screeches from upstairs. “ I stayed on the phone with Lev too late last night, and now I’m going to miss the train! ”

Kei lifts his brows, finding a safe place in the armchair and watching the destruction unfold in their living room. “So… things are good with him, then?” Yamaguchi had been on a few dates with the aspiring model since Halloween, and Kei had heard him talking recently about officially seeing him. “Gonna introduce him to your family soon?”

“ You shut your ass! ” Tadashi yells. “ I’d say the same about you and Y/n, but your family already knows her! Didn’t she have a massive crush on Aki when we were kids?! ”

Kei flushes, scrubbing at his brow. “We’re not dating, Dashi,” He murmurs. “And, yes, she did. It was annoying.” Tadashi reenters the room at a high speed, flying down the stairs with clothes piled high in his arms. 

“You sure about that?”

“About the two years she was convinced she would marry my brother? Yes, I’m sure.”

“About you dating, dumbass.”

Kei sighs. “I know. I’m sure about that, too.”

“Doesn’t look that way to me or Kiyoko.” His roommate shrugs, reconsidering one of his shirts and tossing it on the couch.

“Yeah?” Kei laughs nervously. “How’s it look?”

“Looks like you’re madly in love with her, to be really honest-” Tadashi cuts off, seeing Kei pick up the throw pillow behind him. “ Don’t give me brain damage right now, please. I’m too busy.”

“I’m not in love with her,” Kei mumbles, setting the pillow in his lap.

“Dude, you’re obsessed with her.” Tadashi sits on his pile of clothes, shoving it into his suitcase with his ass. “You’d bottle her farts and smell them throughout the day if you could.”

“You’re really romantic, you know that? Lev into that kinda thing?” Kei says, growing frustrated. He knows he’s obsessed with you. He knows . He’d all but admitted it to you in bed this morning.

“Look,” Tadashi says, running into the bathroom and throwing literal bottles out the door and across the length of the living room. Kei watches, impressed, as he racks up a high success rate of getting them in his suitcase. “You’re staying at her place all the time, you only come home to get clothes-”

“And for our Tuesday nights!”

“-you fall asleep on the phone with her if you do sleep here-”

“Who told you that!”

“-and your face turns a really weird shade of red whenever I bring this up.” Tadashi points at him now. “Kinda like that.”

It is rather warm in here.

“Just think about it,” Tadashi continues, slamming his suitcase shut and zipping it up with shockingly minimal struggle. “You have all of Christmas Break. Kiyoko’s busy with Kyoutani, and I won’t be here, so you don’t need to come home at all.” He stands the suitcase up with a huff and then stares down at it with hands on his hips, proud of his work. “Kiyoko tells me Y/n’s also having a hard time.”

Kei perks up, following him to the foyer and watching him put his coat on. The words ‘ it’ll be you ’ float through his head, and it’s suddenly a lot warmer in here. “What’d she say?”

Yamaguchi eyes him. “Exactly what I just told you. That you two are acting like idiots who don’t know how to speak to each other.” He rolls his suitcase to the door. “Stop dancing around each other and make this official. Not labeling things is going to end up with one or both of you heartbroken.”

So you had talked to Kiyoko about this.

Yamaguchi leans in, squeezing Kei in a tight hug and then slapping him on the back. “Go get ‘em, Tiger-er. Frog.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Kei staring at the front door with a mumbled ‘ have a safe trip ’ echoing in the empty foyer.

–

Tsukki stays with you through Christmas. 

After that morning in your bed, you have an irrational worry that – when he goes home to say bye to Yamaguchi – he might never come back. You pace your apartment for an hour after he’s gone, eventually calling Kiyoko to freak out. You severely regret that decision, because she spends the better half of another hour laughing in your ear about how you’d almost fucked your best friend. She does calm down, eventually, and it’s to remind you that Tsukki’s never lied to you.

He’s never lied to you, and he’d told you he wasn’t mad at you, so you have to believe him. You have to believe him about everything , because that’s all he’s asking of you. 

So you hang up the phone, wishing Kiyoko ‘ good luck and good fucking ’ before she leaves for a date with Kyoutani, and you sit on the couch with the TV on. You stare at the screen and pretend to know what’s happening, only checking your phone sixteen times over the course of another few hours. And when there’s a knock at your door, you only pounce off the couch before catching yourself, managing not to run all the way to the door. 

And, God, are you glad that you did everything you could to remain calm. Because, when you open the door, Tsukki’s standing there holding dinner and looking through his duffel bag like he’s checking that he didn’t forget anything. He’s standing there, completely normal, like you hadn’t all but asked him to fuck you and then promptly rejected him only hours earlier. 

He just looks at you, hair dusted with snow and nose tipped red from the cold, and asks if you’re okay. Because you’re just standing there staring at him like it’s Christmas morning, not letting him in. You do let him in, and you eat dinner together, and then you go to bed together. And you’re scared that being in that bed with him again might be awkward, but he just climbs sleepily between your legs and falls asleep with his head on your chest. 

It doesn’t come up again until Christmas Day. 

— 

On Christmas morning, you wake to the conflicting smell of coffee and something burning. Sitting up, you look directly into the kitchen, seeing smoke and a towel waving through the air.

“What are you doing?” You gasp, rolling out of bed and rushing over to where Tsukki is coughing and waving his arms.

“My fucking best!” He sputters, fanning a hand in front of his face. “What does it look like?”

You round the bar, yanking the smoking pan off the stove and dumping its contents in the trash. You roll your eyes when he whines ‘ my beautiful breakfast’ somewhere behind you. “What were you trying to make?”

“Eggs,” He grumbles, and you can’t help but shoot him an amused grin.

“Finally, something the Great Tsukishima Kei absolutely sucks at.”

“I suck at most things that aren’t volleyball and school.”

“Well, thank God for that,” You snicker, throwing the pan back on the stove and turning to plant a kiss on his mouth. “If you’re gonna be good at something, I would hope it’d be your job .”

He grumbles briefly but just wraps his arms around your waist and follows you around the kitchen, severely interfering with your ability to cook an actual breakfast. 

“Speaking of my job…” He starts, his voice muffled in your shoulder. “I think they’re supposed to let me know soon about the contract.”

You turn in his arms, setting the carton of eggs down. “Really? When?”

“Dunno. But it’s the end of the year, so…” He looks indifferent about it, but you can see that he’s worried that they haven’t said anything so close to New Year’s Eve. 

“Okay. I’m sure they’re just finalizing things, that’s all.” You card your fingers through his hair and pull him in, kissing him gently. “Do you wanna go out tonight? For dinner?”

He smiles against your mouth. “You askin’ me on a Christmas date? So cliche, princess.”

There’s no amount of money in the world that could make you admit to him how fluttery those words make you. You just kiss him again, letting him back you into the counter.

“Maybe,” You mumble. “Pick a place. My treat.”

“You’re funny,” His mouth drops to your neck. “Thinking I’d ever let you pay for anything while I’m around.”

“You let me pay for coffee that one day,” You argue pointlessly, your breath short from the way he’s nibbling on your skin. 

“That’s because you’re a two-faced liar who hides the important things in a relationship.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You coo jokingly. “Can I make it up to you?”

He groans, laughing after. “You know exactly how that sounded.”

“Yep,” You say, finally pushing him off of you and returning to the eggs on the counter. “Pick somewhere nice for dinner. It’s Christmas!” 

He grumbles through the morning, your giggles filling the rest of the air, and you exchange gifts after breakfast. You’d made him a photo album of all the most ridiculous pictures you’ve taken together over the last few months. He’d gotten you a necklace that he’d watched you ogle in the window every single time you’d passed by, always claiming that it was too expensive and that you didn’t need it, anyway. He helps you put it on – kissing down the curve of your neck and over your shoulders and whispering that you’re even prettier now – and you sit in his lap with the photo album open, trying your very hardest not to kiss him silly every time he laughs that bright, genuine laugh that always makes your heart beat harder.

Around dinnertime, you get ready, asking what kind of restaurant he’d picked and rolling your eyes when all he says is ‘ a nice one ’. You pull out your best dress – a floor-length, wine red little number – and then you watch as Tsukki loses all concentration, his tie dangling pathetically in his hands.

“Ready?” You say, stepping out of bathroom as you finish pinning your hair up. His eyes drag down the length of you, and then he shakes his head dumbly.

“Not even a little bit.”

You make fun of him all the way to his car, brushing your mouth over his in the elevator and watching with a smirk as he fights the urge to chase after you when you pull away.

The dinner goes perfectly – it’s an upscale spot that serves way too little food on plates that are way too big, but Tsukki holds your hand the whole time and looks at you like he’s never looked at you before. It makes you nervous, but he just smiles when you blush, mumbling that he likes that look on your face. You wonder what’s gotten into him, but you decide to let it go in favor of sharing a glass of wine with him and giggling when his face starts to flush from the alcohol.

He’s decently nice to the reporters outside the restaurant, either feeling relaxed from the drink or too busy pulling you away from Nariko, who you’re chatting up with a wine-tinted bubbliness that makes the other reporters scowl. She just squeezes your arm and tell you to have a merry Christmas, and Tsukki busies himself with leading you by the hand down to his car. You don’t see it, but you find out a few hours later on Twitter that he’d pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and stuffed it in Nariko’s hand, telling her to go home to her family for the holidays. The pictures online had all shown Nariko’s awe-stricken face and the jealousy of much meaner reporters who’d never gotten the time of day from Tsukishima Kei.

He takes you to a pizza place down the street after leaving the restaurant, where you split a large supreme pizza and complain about how little food there was at the expensive place. You ask if they charge for air, and he jokes that they probably charge for smelling the food. You crack shitty jokes and fight over the last slice, and then you watch with thinly veiled affection as Tsukki signs the t-shirts of some young boys who’ve run over from the next booth over. He even gives them a small smile when they say he’s their favorite Frogs player, and then he gives you a large one when they turn to you and ask what it’s like to date someone famous.

‘ It’s a pretty sweet gig, ’ You tell them, leaning in conspiratorially. They lean in, too, eyes twinkling. ‘ I get to see a side of him that no one else does. Kind of like having a secret identity.’

They run off, claiming to their mother that Tsukki’s a superhero. Or a spy. They can’t decide.

Tsukki takes you home soon after, intertwining his fingers with yours and running his lips back and forth over your knuckles absentmindedly while he drives. When you get home, you change into sweats and take all your makeup off, realizing only then that Tsukki looks at you the same way even while you stand there in old, ratty clothes and mascara smeared under your eyes.

He just watches you, his eyes flicking away but always coming back, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s with you, tonight, huh?” You finally say, curled up against his side. There’s some trashy movie on, but you can’t bring yourself to focus – not with him sliding his fingertips across the strip of skin that peeks out from under your shirt, over and over again until you start to shiver with each pass.

“Nothing,” He says, glancing down at you and then back at the TV. “Just… I dunno, it’s Christmas.”

You smile up at him, your eyes twinkling. “You’ve never been one for Christmas spirit , Kei.”

“Well, maybe I am now.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s nice to just spend it with you and do nothing else.”

“We spend every Christmas together,” You argue, smiling wider when he just squeezes you.

“‘s different,” He mumbles. You give up on bullying him, your heart warming and your skin prickling with happiness. It is different. Things are different. Every moment with him feels realer than the last, like you could do anything with him because you know it’ll be okay.

You look up at him, examining the way his lips start to tug up when he senses you watching him. Finally, his eyes drop to yours, honey-golden and warm, and you lean up to kiss him.

You barely manage to brush your lips to his when his phone rings in his pocket.

He leans back but keeps his eyes on your mouth while he extracts his phone, not looking at the Caller ID before lifting it to his ear.

“Hello?” He watches your mouth still, distracted.

And then he blinks, eyebrows furrowing as he looks away.

“Okay..?” He says, retracting his arm from your waist and standing slowly. Your heart starts to drop as you watch him pace the space between the couch and your bed. Who is he talking to? Is something wrong?

“Okay,” Tsukki says, blinking rapidly. “Okay. Yeah. Yeah. Okay.” He sighs. “Yeah. That’s-Thank you.”

And then he hangs up, and you watch him stare down at his phone, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Tsukki…?” You whisper after a moment, officially worried. When he looks at you, though, you see it. 

The relief in his eyes.

“They’re signing me.” He stares. You stare back. And then his mouth breaks in a smile, and he looks you over. “They’re signing me, Y/n. They’re throwing an event on New Year’s Eve.”

“What?!” You jump over the back of the couch, launching yourself at him. He hoists you up and laughs, that beautiful, bright laugh that you can’t live without now. “Tsukki!” You wrap your legs around his waist, burying your face in his neck and squealing. 

“Holy shit,” He breathes, laughing in disbelief. “Holy shit, we did it.” And then, when you lift your head to smile down at him, he uses one hand to grab the back of your head and drag you in for a kiss. “ Fuck, we did it. You did that ,” He mumbles against you. “ Thank you. ”

You shake your head, dropping your legs and kissing him while he sets you down. “ You did that, Tsukki,” You say, turning and heading into the kitchen. “You’re amazing, you know that?” You search through cabinets, extracting two bottles of wine. You brandish them at him with a grin. “We have to celebrate!”

He looks between the two bottles, chewing on his bottom lip, but you see the smile peek through after a second. “Yeah… Yeah, I’d say both bottles are necessary.”

“To celebrate. Properly,” You justify.

His grin is wide now. “Properly.”

–

Celebrating properly ends up – somehow, some way – involving Tsukki’s lips on your throat and his fingers tangled in your hair. He smells like wine, and your head is swimming from him and the alcohol. 

You’re laid back on the couch, hair fanning out around you and legs wrapped around him. He’s got his other hand on your waist, inching higher and higher every few seconds and taking your shirt with it. 

“ Tsukki ,” You whisper, your fingers locked in his hair and your back arched until your chest presses to his. “ Please. ”

He groans against your throat. “ We can’t ,” He slurs, shaking his head. “‘r not ready-”

You whine, using your grip on his hair to pull his head back up. You kiss him heatedly, moaning when your shirt bunches up around your breasts, his fingers stalling there but sliding hesitantly under the hem.

“Doesn’t have to be-” Your breath stutters, because his hips are moving unconsciously against yours, and you can feel how hard he is. “Doesn’t have to be everything-”

He seems to like that answer, his kiss growing rushed. “Really? You sure?”

“Yeah-yes-” You nod furiously. “Please. Please. ”

He sighs roughly, pulling away from you and sitting up. You barely have time to breathe before you’re being lifted through the air and dragged into his lap. You gasp, your head spinning, as he turns you quickly in place. Your back slams against his chest, and his mouth drops to the junction of your throat. 

You reach up, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tsukki,” You sigh, feeling his heart beating against your back. He slides his arms around your waist.

“You’re sure?” He asks again, his voice low and humming through your skin. You nod, eyes half-closed and staring blankly at the movie that’d you’d lost track of a long time ago. You sigh in relief and close your eyes when he pushes his lips against your throat, the scene in front of you lost as you breathe him in.

With your eyes shut, you feel him more intensely. The warmth of his lips on your skin, the way his hands start to slide across your sides, your t-shirt falling over his wrists. He stops just below your breasts, nipping his teeth on your throat to get your attention.

“ Last chance ,” He whispers.

You arch your back, grinding your ass subtly back into him. You feel his cock twitch against it, and he bites down harder on your shoulder.

“Was that your answer?” He breathes, his hands growing more certain on your skin. 

“ God , Kei,” You laugh. “Do something before I do.”

You feel him smile before anything else.

He slides one hand back down around your waist, using his arm to anchor you to him. His other hand slides up, and you gasp, feeling his palm cup your breast.

“ Oh -” You arch your back again, your head falling back against his shoulder. You’d noticed how big his hands are over the months together, but you’d never really realized .

He keeps you flush to him while his fingers roam eagerly over your chest, the pads of his fingertips rough and calloused from volleyball. He kneads one breast, his palm as searing hot as the kisses he trails along your throat, and then he switches to the other. His fingers tweak and pluck at your nipples, teeth blunt on your shoulder and his other arm holding you tight as you start to wriggle and moan. 

You dig your hands into his thighs, the fabric of his sweats balled up in your fists. Your head swims, face warm and skin sweaty, and you loll your head back and forth on his shoulder. “Tsukki, please,” You moan, unconsciously spreading your thighs and pushing them against his. He notices, the hand on your waist squeezing once.

“Want more, princess?”

“Please, fuck-” You want to growl when he takes his hands off of you, but the brief disappointment is replaced with a distinct thumping of your heart when he hooks both hands under your knees and pries your thighs open, hanging your legs over the sides of his knees. You feel briefly vulnerable sitting like this, but he just slides his hand back under your shirt and continues to play with you.

“Comfortable?” He asks, his other hand toying with the waistband of your pants. You nod, your breathing growing heavy when his thumb slips under the band. “You sure?”

“Tsukishima, I swear-” You gasp, feeling him tug hard on your nipple. He snickers against your shoulder, whispering ‘ so easy ’ into your skin as he pushes his other hand past the band of your sweats. He doesn’t bother stopping there, fingertips slipping past your panties and finally pausing right over where you need him. 

“ Mm- ” You purse your lips hard to keep from moaning too loud. But your head fills with static and your stomach flips over itself again and again while he swipes teasing circles over your clit.

“C’mon, princess,” He breathes smugly into your ear, but you hear him swallow hard as his fingers dip lower and slide through your folds. “You’re not gonna let me hear you? After everything?”

His fingertips are hot against you, and you become suddenly aware of how much larger his fingers are than yours. You feel — horrified, truly — as you become wetter against his hand. Tsukki’s smile is wide against the shell of your ear. 

“What happened, baby?” He whispers, nudging the tip of his middle finger against your entrance. “If there’s something you want, you gotta ask for it.”

You just lift your hands to your face, hiding. Tsukki lifts his own hand away from you before coming down quickly, the slap sharp against your core. You yelp, hands flying to hold onto his arms and face burning as he soothes the pain by running his fingers through your folds. There’s a soft squelch that echoes in the room and makes him chuckle low against your head. 

“ I think your pretty little pussy likes me, princess ,” He whispers, the hand on your chest sliding up through the collar of your shirt and resting on the base of your throat. “ Better ask fast, before I lose interest. ”

You whine, your heart pounding against his hand. “Please, Tsukki…”

“Yeah?”

You tighten your hold on his arms, nervous. “Please finger me?”

“Aw,” He coos, laughing gently as he swipes more circles over your clit, still gentle. “That’s so sweet, baby. But you can do better.”

“What?” You whine, turning your head and burying your face in his neck. Your throat pushes further into his hand, and you feel yourself get impossibly wetter when he tightens his grip. 

“You can ask better than that,” He mumbles, and you feel his cock twitch against your back when you clench, his fingers sliding patiently back and forth.

“Uhm-” You shudder, because he’s switched to flicking his fingertips against your clit. “I-”

“ Come on, Y/n, ” He whispers against your head. He starts to tap his fingers, one and then the other. “ I’ll stop if you don’t ask soon.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest, and you shake your head. “Please don’t-”

“Then ask me-”

“I did- ”

“ Ask me, Y/n- ”

“ Please , Tsukki!” You yell, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to think about how your voice bounces on the walls. “I need you to stuff your fingers in my cunt and fuck me before I lose my fucking mind -”

He groans loudly, drowning you out, but your voice cuts short anyway, because he’s sliding his middle two fingers down and pushing them roughly into you. 

“Oh, my- Tsukki- ” You gasp, his name ripped from your throat.

“ Fuck- ” He groans, sliding his fingers out and slamming them back into you. “ Y/n- ” 

You purse your lips to muffle yourself, wriggling and arching your back, your throat pressing into his hand. “Tsukki, fuck.”

“God, you’re so pretty, baby,” He whispers, his breathing rough and shallow. “You feel so good-” His chest heaves against your back, and your head fills with white noise, a ringing in your ears as you feel nothing except the way his fingers stretch you out, his palm slapping against your clit over and over again until you feel like your skin is on fire. “You’re doing so- so good with my fingers-“ He cuts off, moaning and pressing his face into your hair when you clench hard around his fingers. “ Fuck , Y/n-“

“Please,” You whimper, knowing how desperate you sound. “More, Tsukki, please-”

“Baby-“ He laughs, his voice strained. “I don’t know-”

“ Please , Tsukki. Please, I need you-“

He slams his hand into you, stopping long enough to take a deep breath. “Y/n, I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready f-”

“I’m ready!” You scream pathetically. “Please, I promise I’m ready, I need you so bad, Tsukki-” 

“Y/n-”

You know it’s only been a week since that morning on your bed. You know that he’s worried that you’re not thinking straight. But you also know that it’s him, that it’s always been him. That, above all else, he’s the one you need. That there will never be anyone else.

You think you might be in love with him.

And if that’s the case, then you’re really not seeing any reason to keep waiting. 

“Tsukishima Kei, I swear to fucking God – if you don’t fuck me, I will actually start sobbing.” Your voice is already starting to crack, and your chest is heaving in large gulps of air. He moans quietly in your ear, and you think he says something to the effect of ‘ Okay, baby. I got you’, but you can’t be sure. The ringing in your ears is too strong, worsened when he quickly slips his fingers out of you. You whine at the emptiness, the sound lost in the shuffle of Tsukki lifting you into his arms and standing from the couch.

He carries you to bed in two strides, lying you down much more gently than you’d expected. Climbing over you, he slides his shirt off and drops it to the floor in one smooth motion. Your heart jumps, and you eagerly sit up to do the same, barely catching the way his eyes widen as he takes you in. And then you lie back, clutching the sheets in both hands to fight the urge you have to cover your chest. But it seems like he might be enjoying what he’s seeing, because he just hooks his fingers distractedly into your sweats and panties, his eyes roaming your body. He pulls them both off and sends them somewhere off the edge of the bed without looking. 

“Shit,” He whispers, more to himself than anything. You shiver under his gaze, gathering the courage to let your thighs fall open. Cold air hits your skin, but you barely have time to whimper before his eyes are dropping. They go wide, and you watch all the air leave his lungs as he stares down at you. “ Shit ,” He says again, even quieter.

“Coming?” You breathe, reaching one hand along the sheet for him. His gaze flies to yours, golden eyes still stunned but recovering the moment he sees you looking up at him. Wordlessly, he drops down over you, his lips finding yours in a rush of heat and everything he’s not saying right now. You sigh against his mouth, holding his face and spreading your thighs further when you feel him reach down between you for his own pants. He pushes them down blindly and kicks them off into the distance, his mouth hot and his wine-laced tongue dancing along yours.

“Y/n,” He mumbles, and you tighten your hold on his face.

“If you ask me if I’m sure, I will finger myself in front of you and then kick you out.” 

His laugh is the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Okay.” He nibbles on your lip and shifts his weight. You feel his cock brush along your thigh, precum smearing on your skin. “I hear you.” 

You will admit that you’re nervous. As he pulls his lips from yours and glances down between you with purpose, the head of his cock bumping up against your entrance, you’re struck with anticipation and a little bit of fear that this might hurt a lot, especially considering his size. But then, as he’s using his thumb to push the tip in as slowly as possibly, his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

And you remember just how sure you are. 

So, even though it does hurt — the sting causing you to grip the sheet hard enough to rip it — Tsukki’s eyes are flicking back and forth between your face and your core, his brow furrowed in concentration, and you feel impossibly safe. Because he would never do anything that might hurt you. 

You trust him.

“‘s this okay?” He grunts, sliding painstakingly slowly into you. You just nod, bottom lip caught between your teeth and eyes scrunched shut. He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours and forcing you to free your lip from its torture. “Y/n, if it hurts, we can stop. We don’t have to do this,” He whispers against you, but you only shake your head, whining.

“‘m okay, I promise. ‘s just new.” Your breath is shallow in your chest. “Maybe if I jus’…” You angle your hips up and spread your thighs just an inch wider, and you feel his sigh against your lips. The relief is instant for you, too, and your lungs fill with air. “Okay,” You breathe, prying your aching fingers from the sheets and stretching them. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” He whispers back, his hand finding your thigh and his fingers splaying across the underside. He sighs, the sound a half-groan as he bottoms out inside of you. “Fuck.” 

Your brow’s broken out in a sweat and your skin is flushed with heat, but when you open your eyes, Tsukki’s staring right back at you, gaze searching your face. You wonder what you look like, because you’re seeing awe in the way his eyes trace you.

“You okay?” His eyes track the embarrassed purse of your lips and the way you glance nervously down your body at the place where his hips meet yours. 

“Are you?” You ask breathlessly, watching his arms shake as he holds himself over you. 

“No,” He laughs. “This is torture.”

You beam up at him, your voice weak when you say, “You can move, Tsukki.” Your fingers find his shoulders, and he collapses onto his elbows, pressing his forehead to your chest. 

“Really? I don’t want to hurt you-”

“Are you this careful with every girl? I’m starting to get a little offended-”

“ You’re not every girl ,” He says simply, muffled against your skin. Your stomach flips, and you accidentally clench around him. The sound he makes is inhuman. “ Was that necessary? ” He complains pitifully into your chest. You giggle wholeheartedly, and he shakes his head against you. “ Don’t do that either- ” 

“Oh, my God, Tsukki – please just move ,” You laugh, snaking your arms around his neck and lifting his head toward you. He shifts, kissing you firmly and breathing a soft ‘ yes, ma’am ’ against your lips. 

He starts slow, slow as before. His hips pull back carefully, and then he rocks forward on his knees, bumping gently up against you when he bottoms out again. The sting is still there, but he distracts you by kissing you, his lips eager on yours and his quiet moans breathless and lost in your throat. He circles your clit gently with his thumb while he does, and you start to shiver against him. Eventually, the sting subsides, and the only notice you give him is the stretch of your thighs and the shallow cant of your hips upward to meet his. His kiss falters for a moment, and the hand on your thigh tightens in surprise, but he doesn’t ask any more questions.

When he snaps his hips a little roughly, you know he’s gotten the message. You focus on breathing while he rocks his hips, pursing your lips to keep from moaning too loud. He’s breathless over you, and you’re secretly amazed to see him like this — brow furrowed and lips parted, eyes flicking between yours and then shutting briefly before finding you again. You’ve never seen his expression so unguarded before. 

There’s a quiet sound that vibrates in his throat every time his hips meet yours, and you find yourself wanting to hear it properly. So you card your fingers through his hair and kiss him, whispering his name against his lips and rocking your hips up in time with his. You hear it then, clear and perfect.

“Oh- fuck- ” Tsukki groans loudly, his hand sliding urgently along the sheet in search of you. His fingers interlace with yours and latch on tight. “You feel so good-” He drops his head to your shoulder, lips hot on your throat. “God-” He laughs pathetically. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much of a mess.” 

“Tsukki,” You whisper, feeling something below your navel twist and tug. “Tsukki-I’m- mm-” You wriggle, arching your back and wrapping your legs around his waist. “Please-”

“Are you close, princess?” His voice is teasing, but you can see in the way he lifts his head, eyes searching your face frantically, that he’s eager. When you nod, his face melts into a kind of affection you’ve never seen from him before. He smiles, eyes flicking down to your mouth, and nods. “Okay, baby. Close your eyes.” 

You whimper, doing as he says and immediately feeling him shift over you. His hand falls between you, fingers swiping ever so gently over your clit as his hips start to bump against yours with a little more force. You cry out, hearing the headboard slam against the wall over and over again. 

“ Tsukki! ” You cant bring yourself to care anymore how loud you are, your breath coming too fast now and your reservations slipping the moment you hear him moan your name. 

“You look so pretty, Y/n-so pretty like this.” He pants, his hips starting to stutter and his cock twitching inside you. The tugging in your navel worsens and peaks, and you moan his name again. He groans at the sound. “You take me so well- fuck . Feels like you were made for me.” 

You gasp, feeling yourself being pulled to the edge. “Tsukki, I’m-” You shudder, fluttering around him, and he starts to breathe hard against your skin. 

“Come on, baby. Let me feel you come around me.”

Your hands tighten on his hair, and you’re distantly aware of Tsukki pushing his lips to yours heatedly as you’re starting to scream. He swallows the sound, moaning as he spills into you, his hips faltering and then stopping against yours. 

You stay that way for an unknown amount of time, your heart beating in your throat, ears, core, and everything else while you come down. Tsukki kisses you with languor, his teeth nipping softly on your bottom lip as he sighs against you. You swallow thickly, whispering his name after a moment. 

“Hi,” He whispers back, slowly lifting his head. You scratch your nails on his scalp, and he blinks down at you sleepily. “You okay?” 

You giggle. “Guess we’ll see in the morning.” His lips pull into a small smile, eyes tracing your features. You kiss him once, mumbling ‘ should we clean up? ’ against his lips. 

He barks out a laugh, nodding. “Stay here.” He lifts off you slowly. “I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t find it in you to be shy about him seeing your body now, feeling all too safe and drifting quickly off to sleep, before he’s even back from the bathroom.

—

It’s still dark outside when you roll over, wincing as you stretch. You reach over for Tsukki, but your arm hits the bed instead. A noise of confusion leaves you, and you lift your head, blinking in the dark.

He’s sitting up in bed, the sheets pooled around his waist and his arms wrapped around his bent knees. 

“Tsukki?” You mumble. He doesn’t seem to hear you, so you sit up, realizing with a quick glance that you’re wearing the t-shirt he’d had on before and your panties. He must have cleaned you up and dressed you. “Tsukki,” You try again, touching his arm.

He starts, turning to look back at you. “Oh. Hi.”

That’s all he says. 

You pull your hand off of him, something unknown coming between you. “What’s wrong?” 

He just swallows hard and shakes his head, scooting toward you. “Nothing.” He puts his hand on your shoulder and tries to guide you back down, but you brush him off.

“Tsukki.”

He stares. You stare back. He looks away and runs his fingers through his hair roughly. 

“I don’t know if we should have done that,” is what he says. The words are whispered, but they echo in the silence. 

You think you might throw up. 

“What?” 

“I just-“ He sighs, running a hand down his face. “Don’t get me wrong, okay-”

“Then don’t say something wrong, Tsukki.”

“Y/n, we were drunk-”

Oh. 

You blink, scooting away from him slowly. You pull the blankets up to your chest, staring at nothing. He watches you, shaking his head. 

“Y/n, just let me talk please. Don’t overdo this-”

“Don’t overdo this?” You ask, eyes wide as they land on him. “I just lost my virginity to you, and you can’t even wait two hours before trying to make your escape.” 

“ No- “ He shakes his head, trying to move toward you, but you stick your foot out, stopping him. “Y/n, no. I’m just-I mean, we’re not even together-”

You flinch back at that. He sees it, and regret crosses his face. His mouth opens, but you cut him off.

“Were you dating every girl you’ve ever fucked?” 

“No, but-“ He laughs. “You’re not every girl. You know that.”

“No, I thought that,” You say, finally standing from the bed and backing away toward the couch. “But you’re treating me like I’m trash that you haven’t figured out how to throw out yet!” 

“No, I’m not!” He stands too, staying at the end of the bed. He seems to have realized you don’t want him near you. “I just wish we had done things right -” 

“I thought they were right!” You snap. “That felt right to me, Tsukishima.”

“You know what i mean -”

“What do you want?” You throw your hands out. “What are you trying to gain from doing this? Tell me.” 

“God, I’m just telling you what’s going through my head!” He tangles his fingers in his hair, tugging in frustration. “We aren’t together, and we were drunk, and I didn’t want this to be-” He shakes his head, and you get the feeling the rest of that sentence was important. But he’d stopped talking, which means he’s not willing to share it with you. So you just watch, refusing to push him for it, because you need to see what he does on his own. 

“I’m just confused,” He finally mumbles. “I don’t know where to go from here. This wasn’t right.” 

You stare, feeling tears prick at the back of your eyes. But you just start to laugh, even though your vision is getting blurry. 

“You’re confused? ” Your laughter is shallow, pained. “You always told me to stop getting in my head about this — about us — and now you’re the one who’s confused ?!” 

“We should have-”

“You told me to do whatever I feel is right-“ You snap. “-and now that I have, you’re confused ?” 

“We didn’t talk about any of this!” He yells, shaking his head. “We said we wouldn’t have sex, so we never talked about what this would mean-”

“Yeah! I figured maybe that part could wait until after!” You scoff. “You know, we could have just talked about what comes next in the morning , but you decided to be confused and overthink and ruin this.” 

He looks like he wants to argue, his face pinched with stress, but you just rub at your brow, breathing hard. You feel sick.

“This is why I wanted rules,” You mumble. “I knew this would happen.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, and then-

“You knew what would happen? That I would fuck this up?” 

You meet his eyes, angry. “That you wouldn’t be able to find a way to let me down easy. That you would let me fall for you, knowing you were just going to cut me off at the end.” 

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I was doing.”

“No?” You point at the bed. “But you were so quick to think of how cut me loose.” 

His brow furrows in irritation. “ Why do you always think the worst of me?”

“Because you couldn’t even wait one night!” You scream. “You couldn’t just be happy with me !” 

He steps toward you, and you see in the moonlight that his walls have gone up. “I was not trying to cut you loose. And I have never lied to you . But you’ve always been so fucking resistant to the idea that I could ever be telling the truth.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, already turning away from you. “God forbid I tell you what’s on my mind and you actually take me seriously.” He meets your eyes evenly. “Maybe it’s you who’s looking for a way out.” 

The silence in the room is suffocating.

“Get out,” You finally say.

The door slams before you have time to process that he’s gone.

The tears finally spill, and your knees hit the floor just as the wailing starts. 

—

Kei throws the front door shut so hard that something falls off the wall in his foyer. He’s not sure what it is, but he’s tempted to start breaking more things. Thankfully, it’s late enough that no paparazzi were outside when he’d gotten here, or else it might have been someone’s camera on the ground again. Great way to celebrate his contract signing.

Yamaguchi wouldn’t appreciate coming home to a destroyed house, though, so he settles for stomping up the stairs hard enough that one of them creaks in a funny way when he lands on it. He slams the door to his room, too, and then he throws himself down on his bed and screams into his pillow.

He hadn’t meant to say it like that. He doesn’t know why he said it like that. He hadn’t meant to make it sound like a mistake. How could any of tonight have been a mistake with you? He just wishes he’d told you how he feels about you before things had gotten out of hand. He wishes you would have known how he feels about you while you were trusting him with your body like that. 

Because then, maybe, you would have known while you were taking your shirt off that you were safe. You would have known, while you were in pain for those few minutes, that he would never hurt you. That he was trying his best, that you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, that you would never have to pressure yourself to have sex because he would have been okay with stopping at any time. 

He wishes he would have told you he loves you.

Maybe then you would have known. 

But instead, you’d looked at him with betrayal in your eyes when he’d been stupid enough to stumble over his words. You’d taken him for all the things he’s always been, but never with you. You’d trusted him with everything, and then you’d closed yourself off in an instant, and he’d gotten frustrated because you wouldn’t hear him out. 

But how could he expect you to hear him out? How could he get mad that you’d retreated into your shell and locked him out? You’d only let him in for a minute, and he’d ruined it. 

He’s ruined this. 

Kei doesn’t remember the last time he cried, but he makes up for it now, his pillow soaked with tears by the time he finally drifts off to sleep. 

—

You spend the next day in bed, sobbing into Kiyoko’s shirt and ignoring the missed calls from Tsukki. And there are a lot of them. He calls back to back for an hour straight — Kiyoko finally has enough and answers for you, muttering ‘ the next time I see you, I’m going to curb stomp you until your teeth are gone ’ before silencing your phone and tossing it somewhere on the couch. 

You fall asleep sometime before the sun sets, Kiyoko’s fingers combing through your hair soothingly. You stir a few hours later and think you hear Kyoutani’s voice, soft and deep as he mumbles ‘ he wasn’t at practice today ’ and paces your floor quietly. You fall asleep again, your traitorous heart twitching as it realizes that Tsukki might not be okay, either.

The morning of the 27th, your eyes crack open, swollen and burning, to a knock at your door. You roll over, staring emptily at it, and then you climb out of bed, thinking it’s Kiyoko, and trudge to the door.

It’s not Kiyoko.

In his defense, his eyes are as red and swollen as yours feel. 

“Hi,” He croaks. You flinch at the sound of his voice. 

“What do you want?” You whisper. He’s holding a plastic bag from the store, and he holds it out weakly to you now. 

“I didn’t get to-” He swallows. “I should have taken care of you. After. I didn’t.” 

No. You didn’t.

You take the bag, peering inside. Some snacks, a pack of muscle patches, a couple electrolyte-replenishing drinks.

A box of Plan B, sitting at the bottom.

You stare at it emptily. “Who saw you buy this?” The last thing you need is the internet witnessing your heartbreak in real time.

“Management took care of it.”

You’re not sure you’re okay with them being involved, but it’s better than Tsukishima Kei being caught buying Plan B. 

You shut the bag, shoving it back at him. “Well, you can thank them for me, but I’ve actually been on birth control for years.” He blinks, taking it while staring dumbly down at you. You smile, your anger manifesting as cruelty. “So don’t worry about it, Tsukishima.” He doesn’t look so happy to hear his name used that way anymore. “I never intended to get pregnant and trap you in a loveless marriage for your fame and fortune.” 

His eyebrows furrow, and his frown cuts deep. “Y/n-”

You slam the door in his face. 

—

Kei doesn’t speak to you again until New Year’s Eve — until you literally have to speak to him, because he needs to text you about his contract signing.

His fingers shake while he sends it, letting you know that he’d be arriving to your place in a limo booked by the Frogs at 6pm, and then he sends you a picture of his ties, in case you want to match. You don’t respond, so he just picks the black one.

He’s terrified that you’ll decide not to go. Terrified. 

But even when you send him a thumbs up (still not responding about the ties), he doesn’t feel less terrified. He just sits at the edge of his bed and stares down at his phone, his heart ripping in his chest as he scrolls through your previous messages from the last few months. All of that — all of your excited texts and flirty memes, all of his thinly veiled affection. All siphoned down to nothing in a matter of days. 

He gets ready with trembling fingers, his eyes pricking with tears and then drying up as he shakes his head and blinks away every regret he’s ever had. He sits in the limo in anxious silence, watching it pull into your apartment, the lights flashing on the cameras outside. 

And then he wipes his eyes and draws his shoulders back, because, while the world inside has been falling apart under his fingertips, the world outside has been going crazy over the news of Tsukishima Kei going pro. 

He exits the limo and bows to a few reporters, waving politely as he waits for you. He doesn’t answer any questions, mostly because he doesn’t want anyone to get too close and see that he’s not okay. But then you come out of your apartment in a black ball gown that makes his heart wrench, and he has to fight tears again. 

You smile wide at him, your eyes crinkling and your face glowing as you walk down the steps to meet him.

“You that stunned to see me?” You ask, loud enough to be heard by the paparazzi. They laugh, and you laugh with them as you step up to him. Then you lift onto your tiptoes and press your lips to his in greeting, and he has to remember to close his eyes and act like everything’s fine, even though the feeling your lips on his makes him want to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. 

You pull away and turn to the cameras, waving quickly before ducking through the door he’s holding open. He waves, too, and follows you, the camera shutters loud behind him.

The inside of the limo is dead silent. 

You sit on the other side of the car, staring out the window as the driver pulls out to the street. Any evidence that you’d just smiled at him like he’s your world is gone. Kei just looks at you, every nerve in his body fighting to find something to say. 

Finally, after five torturous minutes, he swallows. “Y/n.”

“Don’t.” You don’t bother meeting his eyes when you speak. “Let’s just get through this. In the morning, we can ask Management how to break up without making you look bad.” 

His heart drops to the ground. “I don’t want to break up.”

You meet his eyes now. “I do.”

“No, you don’t.” He refuses to believe this.

“How would you know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t know. That’s why this terrifies him. 

“We’re not breaking up,” He croaks finally. 

You turn back to the window. “Let’s just get through this.” 

The ride to the Frogs’ gym is filled with a silence that certainly feels like he’s been dumped. 

—

“-ations to Tsukishima Kei for this amazing step into professional volleyball, and we welcome him with open arms to what’s certain to be a long and fruitful career.” 

Kei stands from his seat in the audience, shaking his coach’s hand firmly and bowing at the waist. The Frogs have opened the doors of their in-house conference venue – which is just a large ballroom – the back half filled with round tables and the front lined with a couple rows of chairs for the reporters. The room is capped on the far end by a podium, where his coach has just finished speaking, and a long table. There’s a chair labeled with his name there, in the center of the table, and there’s a stack of papers for him to sign. 

He moves there now, glancing up at the front row and finding you staring back. Your face is masked into a perfect smile, and your expression is filled with love and support as you watch him take a seat at a table filled with his coach, manager, captain, and a brand sponsor. 

But then you meet his eyes, and he can see how empty they are. 

He looks down at his papers, adjusting his tie nervously. The camera flashes are making him warm, and he can’t really hear what’s being said, so he follows his coach’s lead and turns pages when necessary and signs on dotted lines, again and again and again. He’s already read the terms of his employment — they’d emailed him the hundred-page document three days ago so that he could read it and negotiate benefits before the day of the signing. That’s the only reason he’s not more nervous about this moment. He just has to flip pages and sign whatever his coach points to.

The whole process only takes five minutes, cameras flashing away over his bent head. Before he knows it, he’s standing and shaking his coach’s hand again, and then he’s being hugged by his manager and captain and taking a photo with his brand sponsor. 

And then he looks at you, still sitting in the front row as reporters start to stand and approach him. 

It’s almost worse that your eyes are filled with genuine warmth this time. 

He answers a couple questions, but his eyes keep flicking back to you distractedly, and finally a voice speaks from the back – feminine and familiar and belonging to a reporter donning the Sendai Sports lanyard. 

“I think maybe Tsukishima would enjoy a moment alone with his girlfriend — We could move to the reception tables and continue our conversations there, perhaps?” 

Kei grabs his manager by the sleeve as the crowd is clearing and asks if it’s possible for the Frogs to hire Nariko as his PR rep. His manager looks up at him with surprise and says he’ll speak with her. 

When Kei turns again, you’re there. His heart jumps, and he slips his arm around your waist by habit, trying not to react visibly when you tense against him. 

“You asked to hire Nariko?” You say, setting a careful hand on his bicep. “That would set her up for life.”

“I know,” is all he says. Your eyes flicker with appreciation, and you step close to wrap your arms around his neck. He hugs you as tight as he can without making it obvious that he hasn’t seen you in days. 

“Congratulations,” You whisper in his ear. “I’m proud of you.”

A lump grows in his throat. “Thanks.” You dont respond, and he squeezes you, because he can feel you slipping away. “I’m sorry,” He breathes. 

“I can’t,” You say, stepping away. “It’s too late-”

“It’s not .” He’s starting to get desperate, the thought of you closing off to him forever pure torture. “It’s not too late-”

“Stop brushing off what I said.” Your brow furrows with annoyance, and his frustration bubbles for a moment too long.

“Why? You do it all the time.” He dips his head quickly so that the cameras don’t see the tension in his face, and he’s thankful your back is to them, because you’re outright frowning now.

“Let’s just get through this.”

“Would you please stop saying that?”

You sigh quietly, stepping close and running your hands over his shoulders in a way that appears affectionate to anyone watching. “Fix your face, Kei. I don’t want to talk about this now. Let’s just enjoy the evening, because you deserve to be appreciated for everything you’ve put into this.” 

He’s amazed at your ability to think of him, even now. 

“You put so much into this, too,” He whispers. You just smile bitterly.

“Yeah. And look where that got me.” 

He watches you paint a loving smile on your face as you take his hand and lead him toward the reception table occupied by his teammates and Management. He does his best to pretend, even though he feels like he’s losing a piece of his soul.

—

You lean forward on the counter, staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

It’s amazing that you’ve been able to keep it together all night. You’ve clung to his arm and followed him around the room, talking to his teammates, to Management, to any reporters who had questions for you. You’ve spoken with a smile and a laugh and a twinkle in your eye, and you’ve done your best to hide how much it hurts to be close to him. 

To the smell of him, clean and warm and filled with home . To the feel of him, secure and safe as he holds your waist and kisses your cheek appropriately. To the sight of him, perfect and golden and made of everything you’d fallen in love with.

It makes you sick, looking yourself in the eye and knowing you’d been lying the whole night. Especially with Kyoutani watching you like a hawk, eyes full of blatant concern. And with various members of Management quietly asking if you’re feeling okay, if there’s ‘ anything else ’ you need.

You shake it off, drying your hands and fixing your hair with a quiet sigh. Only a little more, and you can retreat to your dark cave of wallowing.

Straightening your back, you smile at yourself in the mirror and turn, leaving the bathroom and making your way down the hallway back to the reception room. 

You hear him before you see him.

“ -the fuck did you say to me? ”

No. No way. He wouldnt.

There’s nervous laughter that follows, and you speed up to get to him before he says something else. 

“ I’m just saying- ” You don’t know the voice well, but you think it belongs to one of the only super young reporters at the event today. “ -now that you’re officially pro, you might consider transitioning into a relationship that’s a bit more…. suited to your new lifestyle. ” 

You stop short, just shy of the corner.

“Someone a bit more pleasing to the public, if you will,” The man finishes, and you stare down at nothing. You struggle to recover, too many wounds opened too soon, one after another. But you know Tsukki can’t pick a fight, not here. So you lift your head and resume your trudge to the end of the hall, only to find Nariko staring back at you. 

She looks angry, and her eyes flick away from yours to stomp just out of view. Just as Tsukki’s starting to respond.

“Would the public find it pleasing if I were to beat your ass for talking about my girlfri-”

“Tsukishima,” Nariko cuts in. “It’s great to get some one-on-one time with you.” You hear the other reporter gasp and stumble, and you’re guessing Nariko’s pushed him out of the way. 

Tsukki sighs at her. “Thanks for th-” 

He suddenly appears in your eyeline, stumbling back a few feet, and you realize that she’s pushed him, too. You’re a bit impressed.

He looks affronted for a moment, but then your presence catches his eye, and he turns to you with wide eyes.

“Y/n-”

“As your new PR rep, Tsukishima-” Nariko says, stepping around the corner to face the both of you and create a bit of privacy. She winks at you when she calls herself by that title. “-I’d recommend not getting into a fight at a contract signing that only happened because you stopped getting into fights.” 

Tsukki has the decency to look ashamed, and you nearly hug Nariko. But she just looks between you before glancing over her shoulder. 

“You know… No one will notice if you’re gone for ten minutes.”

You don’t wait for any other signal, only wrapping a hand around Tsukki’s wrist and dragging him all the way down the hall to a storage closet. You throw him in and slam the door, whirling on him.

“Are you fucking insane?”

He points out the door, jaw slack in shock. “You heard what he said to me!” 

“Are you lacking self-control in every way?!” You throw your hands out. “This is your day , and you come that close to ruining it?”

His jaw clenches and unclenches as he stares at you, his eyes flicking between yours. “I won’t let people talk to me like that. Not about you.”

You stare back. “I won’t let you put everything on the line for me. You can’t ruin your own life for something stupid-”

“This isn’t stupid !” He explodes. “Everything before you was stupid!” He starts to pace. “I had a shit temper, and it was easy to bait me into a fight, and I would end up in the tabloids for the dumbest shit . And you helped me! You fixed me, just like I asked you to! I’m not the same guy I was before, Y/n. But this -” He points out the door. “ You ? I can’t do it.”

You breathe hard, shaking your head. “Then let’s end this.” When his eyes only widen, you swallow. “Let’s end this now. If I’m this much of a weakness for you, let’s make them stop talking about me. We got what you needed – I fixed you, like I said I would. Your contract’s secured. You can go back to dating girls that all look the same, and we can take some time apart so I can get over you, and-” You’d started to pull the door open, but Tsukki crosses the room in two strides and slams it shut again, his hand flat on the wood.

“Y/n.” His eyes are sharp, but you can see the fear in them. “I need you to stop running from me.”

“Then stop making me run.” You reach for the door again, but he won’t budge. You stamp your foot in frustration. “Tsukki! I’m doing everything I can to preserve this friendship, but I can’t keep doing this !”

“You’re not doing everything! All you have to do is fucking listen to me -” 

You back away from him into the room, shaking your head. “Why, Tsukki? So I can listen to you tell me that night was a mistake? That you ‘ never meant for it to get that far ’, that you ‘ wish things had been different ’? Well, so do I!” You yell. “I wish things had been different, too! I wish I would have known what you would do to me, so that I wouldn’t be stupid enough to go fall in love with someone who doesn’t love me back- ”

“ I do love you back!” He yells, strong and loud and full of anger. Your head snaps up, eyes finding his. His gaze is furious and hurt, and you can’t say you’ve ever seen him look at you like that before. It makes your heart ache and your chest tighten, the way his lip wobbles once before he clenches his jaw and fixes it. 

“...What?” You finally say, your breath caught in your throat.

“I love you back. You stupid fucking girl.” He sounds tired. Exhausted, really.

You stare. “That was rude,” You whisper weakly. He just laughs, but it sounds like he’s near tears. He hasn’t sounded like that since high school, since that fight on your doorstep. 

“Sorry, but that’s what you get with me.” He reaches for the doorknob, opening it an inch. “So now’s your time to back out.”

You stay right where you are. “Or what?”

The silence that follows seems to go on forever.

His eyes search yours, and the sliver of hope you see kills you. “What?”

“Or what, Tsukki? What do I get if I stay?”

He stares, unmoving. “You get me.”

You think you might cry.

You move to the door, watching the fight leave his eyes when he realizes you’re leaving. But you just put your hand on the door, nudging it shut. It clicks, and he stares down at you, confused.

“How long?” You ask.

His eyes flick between yours a moment as he processes your question. “I think it’s probably telling that I wanted you to be my fake girlfriend at all, Y/n.”

You blink, realization hitting you. “Did you know? This whole time?”

“No,” He laughs pathetically. “And Yamaguchi’s never going to let me live it down.”

“Why did you call that night a mistake?” You need to know, even if you’re not sure you want to hear the reason. It’s been killing you.

“I didn’t-” He sighs, rubbing at his brow. “I didn’t say it was a mistake. I said I wish I had done it right.” He meets your eyes, his own so close and golden and honest. You’d missed them. “I wanted to tell you I loved you first. Because I didn’t want you to worry that it was just a hookup.”

You hadn’t realized that his answer would drain you of all your energy. You slump, letting out an exhausted sigh. “And you couldn’t just say that?”

“Well, you couldn’t just listen .” He rolls his eyes, and you see a twinge of irritation in his brow. You laugh softly, and it worsens. “You think that’s funny, huh?” He says, staring down at you. “This could have all been avoided if you’d just heard me out, but you like to act insane.”

“And you like to say the worst things at the worst times!” You argue, half-laughing and half-angry. “Why couldn’t you wait until the morning? Why did I have to wake up and find you contemplating your whole life in the dark?”

“Because I felt guilty!” He snaps, and you’re taken aback, a little offended. He’d felt guilty for sleeping with you? “Because I was terrified I had ruined your first time by not doing it right and making this official between us beforehand. I hadn’t wanted you to be self-conscious the first time.” 

You find it in you to be a little appreciative of that. That he had wanted you to know how sure he was, that you were safe with him no matter what.

And also-” He rolls his eyes. “Not for nothing, but we were drunk, and I couldn’t tell if I was too rough, and I really hadn’t wanted to hurt you -”

It seems your moment of appreciation is over.

“ Why do you keep treating me like I’m fragile?” You bite. “You kept asking, over and over again, if I was okay. If I was sure I wanted to keep going. You were so careful with me, Tsukki – Get over yourself! I’m not going to break!”

He just stares. You realize what you’ve said. You remember who you’re talking to.

“Not gonna break, huh?” He mumbles, eyes flicking down to your lips. He seems like he wants to say something else, but he holds back. 

You don’t.

“Yeah. Want me to prove it?”

You watch in real time as his eyes fill with understanding. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with it?” He says, eyes flicking between yours. You start to argue, because he’s doing it again , but he cuts you short. “With me? So soon?”

Oh. 

He must not realize how badly you’ve missed him. How much it’s hitting you, now that you understand what had gone wrong between you. That you’d been stupid. That he’d been stupid.

Would it be wrong to rile him up? Probably.

“Why, Tsukki? You got a lot to take out on me?” His eyes flicker dangerously, and you take a single step closer, craning your neck back to look at him. “You got your work cut out for you. Apparently, I’m not good at listening.”

His resolve goes out the window, and he dips his head low, lips brushing yours. Your soul aches for him. 

“ I can make you good at listening. ”

You smile. “ Well, you’re not gonna do it by being gentle. ”

He drags you out the door before you can even process that it’s been opened. He pulls you down the hall toward the back entrance of the conference venue, and you laugh, glancing back toward the main room.

“People are gonna notice that you’re gone, Tsukki-”

“I’ll make it up to them.” He hauls you outside, all but carrying you down the steps to the limo. There are no reporters out here, probably because they’re all inside, so it’s no issue for him to quite literally toss you into the back of the limo with reckless abandon. Your hands find him before he’s got the door all the way closed.

And then his mouth is on yours, and you feel all the things that had fallen out of place finally align again. His lips are warm and urgent, and your fingers are tight in his hair. He knocks blindly on the window separating the back from the driver’s side of the limo, and the car starts to move just as he’s pushing you down on the seat. You topple back, and Tsukki climbs over you, his mouth attaching to your throat.

“ Tsukki ,” You breathe, relief filling your lungs. He groans quietly, hands sliding your dress up your legs and over your thighs. 

“ Fuck, I missed you ,” He mumbles into your skin. “This is real, right? Not a dream?”

You giggle, your chest pressing up into his, and you feel him smile wide against you. “You saying this isn’t a dream come true, Tsukishima? I can leave, if you want-”

“God, I can’t wait to fuck that attitude out of you,” He says, spreading your thighs and slotting himself between them. “How has your mouth not gotten you in trouble yet?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it,” You say, shrugging. “Might be too late, now. I’m getting pretty good at it.”

“Don’t complain when I break you,” He whispers before biting down hard on your shoulder. You moan loudly, slapping a hand over your mouth in embarrassment because the driver of this limo does not need to hear that. Tsukki laughs against you. 

“You asked me not to be gentle. Are you regretting it?” 

You shake your head furiously. Your stomach flips over and over on itself, and there’s that warm buzzing filling your skin that you’ve come to associate with him. 

“No?” He whispers. “You like it?” 

“ Mm- “ You wriggle under him, your dress sliding up as you push yourself against him. “Yeah-yes. Mhm .” 

His hold on your hips tightens. “Lucky me,” He responds, a little breathless. He uses his grip to drag you down the leather seat a little more, forcing your thighs open so he can press his hips against you. You moan quietly in his ear, feeling him against your core, already half-hard.

“Need you, Tsukki.”

“Yeah? Am I supposed to give it to you just because of that?” 

You get the feeling this night won’t be easy on your pride, but that’s okay. You think you might be desperate enough by the time you get home. 

“I suppose that wouldn’t be fair,” You whisper, and he snickers against your skin. 

“No, I don’t think it would. You’ve got a lot to make up to me.”

“How do you want me to make it up to you?”

“Patience, sweetheart,” He murmurs. “I don’t plan to do anything until I have you in my bed.”

You whine, but you can also feel the limo starting to make the slow turn into Tsukki’s driveway. He sits you up, watching you fix your dress and smiling when your cheeks flush at the state of yourself. Your skin is hot, and your thighs tremble a little, and your hair’s come undone. And yet, Tsukki looks perfectly put together. 

You hide behind your hair as he helps you out of the limo and walks you to the door. Lights flash behind you, and you hear one of the reporters mumble ‘ I didn’t realize the event ended ’ to the person beside him. Tsukki starts laughing the moment his front door closes, and you groan loudly while trudging toward the stairs.

“They’re gonna know , Tsukki.” 

“You embarrassed?”

“Yes! Of course I am-” Before you can turn to him, you’re air-lifted over his shoulder. You start to scream, flailing while he takes the stairs to his room.

“Good. Then I want them to know.” He sets you on your feet by his bed, and you huff, fixing your dress.

You look around while he closes the door. You haven’t been here in ages, all of your time with him spent at your place. You turn slowly, taking in the familiar sight of his room. It’s so different being here, after all this time.

You’re so distracted by his room that you aren’t prepared for the fingers he puts on your forearm or the way he spins you toward him. 

You’re equally unprepared for the hand he plants on your shoulder before shoving you hard. You yelp, falling flat on your back and bouncing on his mattress. By the time you find his eyes, he’s standing over you, loosening his tie. 

His eyes are cold. “What do you want to apologize for first?”

“What?” You say dumbly, watching the tie come loose. His jacket goes next, and then his white dress-shirt.

“Which one, Y/n? Listening to too many people on the internet? Not believing me when I’d flirt with you?” He leans over you, his hands flat on the bed on either side of you. “Or not hearing me out that night? Causing this whole mess.”

“I didn’t cause that alone,” You argue, and his eyebrows lift with humor. 

“You’re still talking back?” He stands, reaching for the button on his pants. “Guess we’ll start here then.”

“Gonna put my mouth to use?” You joke, but there’s a rush of heat that, funnily enough, soaks your panties right through. You stare down at his hands, watching the zipper slide down and feeling your mouth water a little bit. 

“You ever done this before?” He mumbles, eyes trailing down your body hungrily as he hooks a thumb into the waistband of his boxers. You nod quickly, but he just raises a brow and lifts his other hand, still holding the black tie. “Like this?”

You stare, your heart thumping with excitement. “No,” You breathe. “Can’t say I have.”

He smirks down at you, beckoning you to him with two fingers. “On your knees.”

You scramble to kick your heels off and get into position at the end of the mattress. He stands over you and holds one hand out, looking down at you in amusement when you put both wrists in his hand. 

“You’re a bit eager.” When you nod, he just drops your wrists.

Your heart drops a little. “Wha-” You gasp, because he’s sliding the tie over your eyes and knotting it in the back, whispering ‘ So close, sweetheart ’ in your ear. You moan, your thighs sliding open on the bed.

“Pinch me if something doesn’t feel right,” He murmurs distractedly, and you hear the shuffle of his pants on his skin. “ Hard, Y/n. You hear me?”

“ Mhm . Pinch,” You say, panting slightly. When he laughs, your panties start to stick to your skin.

“God, you want this so badly, don’t you?” The tip of his cock touches your lips, and you dart your tongue out right away, swirling it around the head. Tsukki sighs heatedly over you, and then his fingers tangle in your hair. “My own personal little whore.” 

You groan, trying to take him in your mouth, but he uses his grip to hold you back. 

“Say please.”

Your stomach flips hard, because you know ‘ please’ wouldn’t be enough.

“Please, Tsukki,” You whisper. “Make me your whore.”

He inhales sharply, and you decide right there that you want to hear him fall apart. When he touches your lips again and tightens his grip, you know you have no control here. So you just let your mouth fall open.

The first time he slides into your mouth, his cock hits the back of your throat, and you gag.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He chuckles. “Thought you wanted it rough.” You recover as quickly as you can, breathing deep through your nose and sucking hard when he pulls back. He groans under his breath and thrusts his hips again, humming when you take him properly. “ That’s it, Y/n. ” He pulls you off of him for a moment, and you whine quietly. “Can you keep taking it like that?”

“Stop-” You croak, breathing heavily. “- fucking asking , Tsukishima.”

There’s silence over you, and then he yanks your head back, talking right over the yelp you let out. “If you say so.”

You get no more chances to recover, your breath sputtered and coughed around him as he sets a pace that stings. You moan loudly while he fucks your throat, drool pooling at the corners of your mouth and falling to your chest. Your fingers twitch on his thighs, and, after a few moments listening to the soft groans he lets out over you, one of your hands moves down to your thigh and slides to your core. You barely get two fingers on your clit when his voice bites out.

“ Don’t -” He snaps. “- even think about it .” 

You whine around him, earning a particularly hard thrust that slams against the back of your throat. You latch onto his thighs again, digging your nails in.

“Not so mouthy now, huh?” He pants. “Not so fucking annoying. No choice but to listen.” You nod shallowly, unhinging your jaw a little more, until it hurts. He moans quietly. “Maybe you’ll listen when I tell you how pretty you look like this, baby. So fucking pretty, drooling all over my cock.”

Your whine is loud this time, and he laughs breathily. “You like that? Didn’t know you were into this, sweetheart – good to know.”

And then he pulls you right off him, your gasps echoing in his room. You cough, your chest heaving, but he doesn’t give you more time than that, his hands on your shoulders again. You’re less shocked when you’re shoved onto your back, and you’re too busy catching your breath to do much more than moan when he takes your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed.

Tsukki hooks his fingers into your panties and rips them down your thighs, laughing cruelly. “Aw, look at you. You’re a mess just from that?”

You dig your fingers into his comforter, still blindfolded. “You’re an ass- mm! ”

Tsukishima Kei’s just stuffed your own soiled panties in your mouth.

“Still talking too much,” He mutters, and you hear something hit the floor. You only realize it’s his knees when his fingers grip your thighs hard enough to bruise and his tongue flattens over your clit.

You scream, muffled, and arch your back on the mattress. Your fingers fly into his hair just as he’s dragging his tongue over your folds a second time, but he pulls away. He bites down hard on your thigh, ignoring the jolt of your body. 

“I didn’t say you could touch me.” Your fingers cling to the covers again, and it takes everything in you not to grab him when he spits hard on your clit. “Better.” 

He eats you out like that, his face buried between your thighs as you scream and moan and nearly make your fingers go numb from how hard you fist the blankets. You have no clue how long it’s been or when it had happened, but you realize eventually that he’s slipped two fingers into you, curling and spreading them against spots you didn’t even know existed. Your body twitches when he pushes up against your g-spot, and you grind your hips up toward his mouth unconsciously.

You pay for it immediately, his mouth and fingers leaving you. You start to complain, but it’s turned into a scream when his hand comes down hard on your overly sensitive clit. 

“I really do have my work cut out for me, huh?” He pants, breathless and raspy. “You’re a lot of work, sweetheart.” Your eyes prickle with tears, and you shake your head hard. He huffs out a laugh, breath cold on your heated core. “No? You’re not a lot of work?” When you shake your head again, he coos at you condescendingly. “You promise to be good?” You nod, and he laughs again. “Okay, then. Spread your legs for me.”

You peel your aching fingers off of the blankets and hook them around your thighs, spreading your legs and pressing your knees toward your chest until it starts to hurt. You hear Tsukki’s pants hit the floor, and he groans openly down at you.

“God, you look so good like this,” He mutters under his breath. “Can I take a picture?” 

Your heart jumps. You’d always thought you would never be comfortable with something like that, but the thought of Tsukki having a picture of you on his phone – a picture of you looking like this – has you clenching hard around nothing. You nod firmly, unconsciously pulling your thighs open even further.

He lets out a surprised breath, and then you hear him scrambling for his pants on the floor. “ Fuck- ” He hisses, throwing things around, and you hear the thump of his phone hitting the rug under his desk. “ Fuck, fuck- ” You start to giggle, the sound muffled but still audible. “Don’t fucking laugh at me, you fucking asshole – I wasn’t expecting you to say yes-”

Your laugh is loud now, but when you hear him stumble back over to you and feel his hand on the underside of your thigh, your stomach flips and your breath cuts short. The camera shutter goes off, and goosebumps break out over your skin, a soft moan leaving you. 

“You’re into this too, sweetheart?” He asks, laughing to himself. His phone hits the bed somewhere beside you. “You like when I take pictures of you?” You nod, your face flushing hard, but he slides his cock through your folds before you have time to be embarrassed. You moan, feeling the tip bump up against your clit with each shallow thrust. “Maybe one day we can film it.”

You moan wantonly, and his own moan joins yours as he sinks into you in one slow thrust. Your breath leaves your lungs as he pulls back and slams his hips into yours. “You took me all at once, baby,” He groans, anchoring himself to your hips. “You must have missed me.”

You nod desperately, and you feel his weight drop over you on the mattress. His fingers hook gently into the blindfold, despite how roughly his hips collide with yours, and he tugs the material up to your forehead. You blink rapidly, squinting when the light hits your eyes and trying to readjust while Tsukki drives his cock into you.

When you finally do gain your bearings, the first thing you find is him. Your eyes lock with his, and your own widen drastically as you take him in. His face is flushed, a sheen of sweat glinting off his skin. His eyebrows are furrowed with concentration, and his arms are flexed as he drags you down to meet him halfway with each thrust.

Your eyes roll back into your head almost immediately, the sight too much to handle while he fucks you. Your moans come out louder now, and – although you’re still muffled – you’re infinitely glad you’re not doing this at your apartment, surrounded by thin walls and neighbors. Here, you can moan as loud as you want. Here, you don’t have to care about the way his headboard slams against the wall. Here, you can arch your back and scream his name, over and over again around your panties.

He hears it the third time it comes out, the syllables of his name garbled but clearly his. His expression changes, those furrowed brows creasing even more and his lips parting as he lets out a series of quiet moans every time he hears his own name.

“ Fuck, ” He says, letting your waist go and dropping down hard over you, his hands hitting the bed on either side of you. “ Fuck , Y/n. I love you-” Your vision gets blurry, and your eyes burn, but you only notice you’re crying when the tears stream down toward your ears. “Listen to you, screaming my name like that,” He pants, his hips stuttering for a moment. The realization that he’s close to finishing sends you hurtling toward your own orgasm. “So fucking perfect. Fucking perfect for me.”

His fingers dig into the material in your mouth, and he pries it out, tossing the panties somewhere behind him. Your jaw aches, but you forget it when he meets your eyes. 

“Say it for me, sweetheart.”

“Tsukki-” You cry. “ Please, Tsukki- ” Your fingers itch to touch him. “Please, I love you – Can I-” You start to cry harder, your vision gone completely as you sob, the feeling of him slamming into you too much now. 

“Yes, baby, yes-” His breath hitches when you clench around him, and he nods tightly. “You can touch me-”

Your fingers fly into his hair, and you drag him down roughly, smashing your lips to his. You both moan, and you ramble deliriously against his mouth. “ Love you, I love you, I- ”

He shudders over you, groaning as he stills with his hips pressed tight to yours. He spills into you, his body shaking against yours as he fills you. The feeling of it throws you right off the edge, and you cry against his lips while you come, your back twitching and arching toward his. 

He’s collapsed onto you by the time you’re done, breathing hard in your ear. “ Fuck , Y/n,” He sighs. You wrap your legs tiredly around his waist, exhaustion taking you over.

“How did we do all that with my dress still on?” You whisper weakly, too tired to even smile when he starts to laugh.

“God, I love you. You’re so fucking stupid.”

That one does make you laugh. You feed off of each other, worsening until you’re both wheezing together. 

Finally, he buries his face in your neck, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

Your heart lurches. “For?”

“Everything,” he says. “ Everything, Y/n. For saying the opposite of what I meant. For not saying the things I wanted to.” 

You say nothing, just wrapping your arms tight around his neck. “I’m sorry, too. For not listening to the right person. And for thinking the worst of you just because I was scared.”

He stays quiet a moment, just breathing you in. “Does that mean you aren’t breaking up with me?”

You chew on your lip, suddenly nervous. “Does that mean we’re together?”

“I don’t think any of this was ever fake for me.”

You bring his face up to yours, kissing him deeply. “I don’t think it was for me, either,” You whisper against his lips. He smiles, pulling back to look down at you.

“Can I still ask you to be my girlfriend? My real girlfriend?”

You stare up at him a moment, and then your brow furrows. “I don’t think you ever asked me to be your girlfriend at all.”

He blanches. 

“Oh, fuck.”

You remind him of it for the rest of his life. 

[rainychaoloveshack]

Shadow x Fem Reader and it’s their first date❤️

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

it’s you and shadows first date. are you ready?

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, fluff, mentions of light friends/acquaintances to lovers, shadows a lil nervous huehehe and so is reader

☂︎ wc. 1.2k ☂︎ a/n. THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST! this was so cute to write murhehehe i still feel like i could’ve done a lil better but i hope you like it regardless ^^’

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

Soft jazz music from the restaurant already rings out from outside, mingling with the hustle and bustle of the street, a bell chiming above your head as you push open the glass door with your palm. Luckily, your date seems to stand out compared to everyone else here; or is it just the light that’s making him look so charming?

Ah, look at you. Smitten. It’s already too late to try to shake off any nerves; he’s already seen you from afar. You hope he hasn’t been waiting too long; you did get here on time after all. Would it have been better if you two met before the reservation? Dates are so hard.

“You…” Shadow trails off as you trot up to him, brushing some imaginary dirt off your outfit as you try not to look him directly in the eyes. First impressions were never your strong suit, especially with someone as stern as Shadow. Well, not that it’s your first time meeting him, but in such a romantic setting like this; butterflies are rising and fluttering around your stomach. “You look lovely.”

You could’ve sworn a butterfly made its way out of your stomach and into your mouth as you uttered a small ‘thank you’, your voice almost trembling at the last syllable. Being this nervous in front of someone you’ve known for a while now is an odd feeling.

“Come on, sit.” He gestures to the seat across from him, strangely fidgeting with his gloves. “I… I hope the place isn’t too much.”

Fancy for a first date, sure. It’s not your first time hearing of this place either; Rouge must’ve recommended it to him.

So she’s playing both sides? She was the one who recommended you to ask him out anyhow, so she must’ve known that he would’ve said yes. That sly bat. But it still shocks you even now that he did say yes to your little proposal…

Breaking out of your thoughts, you glance away from the seemingly entrancing patterns in the rug, eyes flickering back up to Shadow, who's looking down at his clasped hands. He notices your gaze rather fast and clears his throat. “Is something wrong?”

Shadow’s been strangely silent. More so than he usually would be around you. Not that you two talked very often, but every time you met there was always at least some light chatter and banter between you two, sometimes a heartfelt moment and long conversation. Maybe you two are closer than you thought. 

“It’s just that I’ve never been on a date before.” Shadow scoffs. “It’s nothing special.” But it looks like he’s more than eager to change the topic.

He can’t handle a simple date? The Ultimate Lifeform, ready to fall over and fold? You cup your cheek, rubbing the tips of your fingers over your cheekbone. It’s a struggle to kill the cheeky smile on your face; joking around with Shadow has always been fun, and your nerves decided it was time to spill out a joke anyway. But maybe it was wrong to let one fly in this situation?

Shadow growls, baring his teeth briefly before he tries his best to defend myself. “Shut your-” He catches himself mid-threat, clearing his throat as he rips his gaze away from you. “Nothing. Nevermind.” He mutters, his shoulder stiffening under your curious gaze. It looks like he’s scared of offending you, but it’s not like you two haven’t joked around like that before. Is it the restaurant? The way you look?

“It’s not you,” Shadow says sternly, firm in his answer. “It’s me; I just feel strange talking to you like this; in this setting.” He mutters, staring down in his gloved hands. “I’m not used to this; this feeling. I don't-” A grimace forms on his lips as he meets your eyes again. “-date around. With anyone. I don’t mess around with feelings like that, so…” Shadow trails off, worried he might’ve said something wrong once your head cocks to the side slightly. “Not that I’m opposed to, I just don’t have experience with those… Things.” He finishes, attempting to hide his embarrassment by clearing his throat, but his ears tell another story. The way they’re twitching here and there as you shuffle in your seat, noticing every small movement as you fidget with the neckline of your outfit.

“...After dinner, do you want to walk around Station Square? If you’d like, we could take a train down to the nearby plaza.” He mutters quietly, his ear flicking in your direction as he waits for your answer to his proposal this time.

…You’d like that a lot.

Crickets chirp along the flowerbeds and bushes as your shoes click against the pavement, trailing behind Shadow’s own steps in an attempt to catch up to his stride. It was already so late, but you two caught one of the last trains here. Now the problem present is on how you’ll get home, but you’re with Shadow. Something’ll come up.

Plus, to see Shadow so relaxed after his tenseness at the restaurant makes your mood lighten to match his. Not much conversation has happened with you two for the past hour, but it’s peaceful. It’s sweet.

He’s so sweet. Like candy… No, not quite candy. It's more like a dessert. What dessert would fit him?

“Is there something on my face?” Shadow points to himself with his thumb, cocking his head at your gaze constantly on him. To hide the embarrassment, you shake your head and come up with some lie about you zoning out; not that it’s fully a lie, but the bigger reason that you were staring at him is just to admire him. But that’s weird to say, right?

Right…

“Tch.” He grumbles, his body straightening out once he realizes he’s being too harsh. “... You know, if-” Shadow cuts off his own voice, noticing a small blink of light near your head, around the same time that you notice it yourself.

Oh.

“It’s just some fireflies.” Shadow’s lips part softly, watching the firefly buzz and flutter around your shoulder. You cup it into your hands, brushing your hip against Shadow so he can see the insect clearly within your palm, blinking its light up at the two of you. How cute. Little lightning bugs…

“I didn’t mean to mess this up.” Your eyes rip away from the bug, instead grazing over to his figure, his arms crossed with his finger tapping repeatedly on his arm. “I had fun.” His head’s turned to the side to not meet your gaze, somewhat ashamed of his behavior. You don’t blame him for it; it’s not like you weren’t nervous too. But not a single thing was ruined about it; he didn’t have to apologize at all.

“If you’d like,” he murmurs, clutching your hands within his own as your little lightning flies away to join the others fluttering around you both. His thumb brushes across your fingers and palm, feeling every groove and digit. “I’d like to do this with you again. I think I’ll be better at handling it next time.”

You’d like that too. A lot. Maybe those butterflies in your stomach won’t be as bad next time, but their wings are still brushing against the edges of it, threatening to spill out from your mouth even now.