#societal contrasts

[kesarijournal]

The Great Indian Paradox: When Sixes Outscore Sacrifices

**Introduction:**In the grand Indian theater, where cricket bats swing mightier than the swords of justice, and the glitz of Bollywood overshadows the grit of the border, we find ourselves in a saga of ironic contrasts. Welcome to the land where celluloid heroes are worshipped, and real heroes often forgotten, where a sixer can fetch millions, but a soldier’s sacrifice struggles for a headline.…

[rxttenfish]

quite frankly im still pissed that Our Wives Under The Sea is considered part of booktok. like. still hate seeing it in bookstores displayed next to Fairy Omegaverse.

[fancysasquatch]

I saw Nosferatu and Die Hard 2 tonight, and now I'm obsessed with the ways movies depict a time and place, whether intentionally or not. Nosferatu took painstaking steps to faithfully recreate 19th century Germany/Transylvania (and nailed it by the way), while Die Hard 2 put much less thought into that aspect of filmmaking, and in doing so accidentally became a perfect time capsule of 1990.

I know I've brought it up before, and I'm sure I'll bring it up again and again, but I love the way slop media (non-derogatory) that lacks originality instead becomes a perfect cross section of society as it exists at that point in time, which in turn means that that story couldn't have existed in that specific form if it had been made at any other time or in any other place.

[cloudeling]

dinah "id love to make babies with you but i won't make orphans" lance vs carol "don't you think its time we got married" ferris. both characters who find traditional ideas of womanhood (kids, marriage) uncomfortable and unappealing but the difference is their response to these feelings. dinah refuses to change her stance & while she feels insecure in regards to how this might affect ollie's feelings towards her & her relationship w him she still maintains confidence in her own conviction and refuses to back down. carol pushes back against these feelings and tries to mold herself into her idea of the ideal woman, literally splitting herself in two & excising the traits she sees as masculine/not befitting her role as hal's "perfect girlfriend" + her marriage proposal to hal being less because she wants it and more because its being pushed on her and she sees it as a necessary next stage in their relationship, regardless of whether its actually good for them. am i making sense

[fullmoonfireball]

god i wish i could put together any sort of coherent analysis instead of my brain just keysmashing at Thoughts

[amplexadversary]

fuck it's 2:40 and I have been typing up a ramble about Reinhard von Lohengramm that is in desperate need of proofreading because it has been a HOT minute since I watched LoGH.

Like, the FPA is my favorite faction in that show by a long shot and I'm less into the nobility drama on the other side

but someone else made a post fucking ages ago that I just saw which really ties in well to how I got an impression of Rein as a tragic figure, whose good intentions did not deliver, destroyed him and those close to him, re-enacted the very wrong that kicked off his ambition in the first place onto two different people, and left the whole galaxy worse off than it was before he took power.

[crossbordercroniclesro]

„Lumea A Luat-o Razna!” - Când Adidașii Sigilați în Cutie Devin Noua Valută!

Într-o lume a extremelor, unii dau 150.000 de euro pe adidași vechi, în timp ce milioane de oameni trăiesc de pe o zi pe alta. Există puține lucruri care simbolizează mai bine haosul lumii moderne decât fenomenul adidașilor „vintage” – da, ați citit bine, pantofi sport care ajung la prețuri de sute de mii de euro! În timp ce o mare parte din omenire se luptă cu sărăcia, unii scot din buzunar…

[blueheartbooks]

"A Breath of Fresh Air: E. M. Forster's 'A Room with a View'"

E. M. Forster's "A Room with a View" is a delightful exploration of love, freedom, and self-discovery set against the backdrop of Edwardian England and Italy. Published in 1908, the novel follows the journey of Lucy Honeychurch, a young woman torn between societal expectations and her own desires for independence and fulfillment.

At its heart, "A Room with a View" is a coming-of-age story that resonates with timeless themes of identity and personal growth. From the picturesque hills of Florence to the genteel drawing rooms of England, Forster paints a vivid portrait of a young woman's awakening to the possibilities of life and love. Lucy's journey towards self-realization is both poignant and humorous, as she navigates the complexities of societal norms and her own inner turmoil.

Forster's prose is both elegant and accessible, imbuing the narrative with a sense of warmth and intimacy. The novel is filled with memorable characters, from the eccentric Emersons to the prim and proper Charlotte Bartlett. Through their interactions, Forster explores themes of class, gender, and cultural differences, challenging readers to question the arbitrary boundaries that divide society.

Central to the narrative is Lucy's evolving relationship with George Emerson, a free-spirited young man whose unconventional views on love and life challenge Lucy's preconceived notions. Their burgeoning romance unfolds with a delicate blend of humor and tenderness, as Lucy grapples with her feelings of attraction and the expectations placed upon her by society.

The novel's title itself serves as a metaphor for the dichotomy between convention and liberation. A "room with a view" symbolizes the desire for openness and freedom, a longing to break free from the constraints of societal expectations and embrace life's possibilities. For Lucy, it represents not only physical space but also the emotional and spiritual freedom she seeks to attain.

Throughout the novel, Forster skillfully juxtaposes the idyllic landscapes of Italy with the stifling propriety of Edwardian England, highlighting the contrast between spontaneity and restraint, passion and repression. Italy, with its vibrant culture and sense of vitality, serves as a catalyst for Lucy's transformation, while England represents the suffocating conformity of bourgeois society.

At its core, "A Room with a View" is a celebration of the human spirit and the power of love to transcend social barriers. Forster's timeless tale reminds us of the importance of staying true to ourselves and following our hearts, even in the face of societal pressure and expectations. With its charming characters, evocative settings, and poignant themes, "A Room with a View" remains a captivating and resonant work that continues to enchant readers more than a century after its publication.

E. M. Forster's "A Room with a View" is available in Amazon in paperback 18.99$ and hardcover 25.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 494

Language: English

Rating: 9/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[blueheartbookclub]

"A Breath of Fresh Air: E. M. Forster's 'A Room with a View'"

E. M. Forster's "A Room with a View" is a delightful exploration of love, freedom, and self-discovery set against the backdrop of Edwardian England and Italy. Published in 1908, the novel follows the journey of Lucy Honeychurch, a young woman torn between societal expectations and her own desires for independence and fulfillment.

At its heart, "A Room with a View" is a coming-of-age story that resonates with timeless themes of identity and personal growth. From the picturesque hills of Florence to the genteel drawing rooms of England, Forster paints a vivid portrait of a young woman's awakening to the possibilities of life and love. Lucy's journey towards self-realization is both poignant and humorous, as she navigates the complexities of societal norms and her own inner turmoil.

Forster's prose is both elegant and accessible, imbuing the narrative with a sense of warmth and intimacy. The novel is filled with memorable characters, from the eccentric Emersons to the prim and proper Charlotte Bartlett. Through their interactions, Forster explores themes of class, gender, and cultural differences, challenging readers to question the arbitrary boundaries that divide society.

Central to the narrative is Lucy's evolving relationship with George Emerson, a free-spirited young man whose unconventional views on love and life challenge Lucy's preconceived notions. Their burgeoning romance unfolds with a delicate blend of humor and tenderness, as Lucy grapples with her feelings of attraction and the expectations placed upon her by society.

The novel's title itself serves as a metaphor for the dichotomy between convention and liberation. A "room with a view" symbolizes the desire for openness and freedom, a longing to break free from the constraints of societal expectations and embrace life's possibilities. For Lucy, it represents not only physical space but also the emotional and spiritual freedom she seeks to attain.

Throughout the novel, Forster skillfully juxtaposes the idyllic landscapes of Italy with the stifling propriety of Edwardian England, highlighting the contrast between spontaneity and restraint, passion and repression. Italy, with its vibrant culture and sense of vitality, serves as a catalyst for Lucy's transformation, while England represents the suffocating conformity of bourgeois society.

At its core, "A Room with a View" is a celebration of the human spirit and the power of love to transcend social barriers. Forster's timeless tale reminds us of the importance of staying true to ourselves and following our hearts, even in the face of societal pressure and expectations. With its charming characters, evocative settings, and poignant themes, "A Room with a View" remains a captivating and resonant work that continues to enchant readers more than a century after its publication.

E. M. Forster's "A Room with a View" is available in Amazon in paperback 18.99$ and hardcover 25.99$ editions.

Number of pages: 494

Language: English

Rating: 9/10                                           

Link of the book!

Review By: King's Cat

[kikizoshi]

In the spirit on NieR-related stories never to be written, here's a what was once meant to be an opening line: two paragraphs I wrote with the concept of Nikolai hailing from Facade, in which he'd been sentenced to that thing where you have to stare at sand for a long time:

In the ever-flowing sludge of quicksand, Nikolai Gogol felt two long years of his life drift away. Should someone have went up to him at that moment, to ask him for a favour or to otherwise simply ask how he was doing, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to resist hurling them in with the skiffs floating endlessly along the canals. ‘Though, I can’t, of course,’ he thought. ‘Such a thing would break Rule 89: "Intentional murder of another citizen for no discernible reason is hereby strictly prohibited…" Then again, who may blame me, were it naught but an accident? I could hurl myself into the river, along with him…’ Nikolai’s face fell into a grimacing smile. ‘Ah, but then that breaks Rule 338: "Throwing oneself into the sand is forbidden." They truly do think of everything…’

[mourningmaybells]

are there even a lot of possession movies where normal, grown men get possessed and are the main antagonist/victim like usually it’s women or children

[reasonsforhope]

Given the misinformation that's been going around and will be going around, thought this might be helpful to some people

For a lot of reasons, I'm very good at this/at searching, to the point where I have worked as a professional fact-checker for two different publishers. So, here goes:

My Article Fact-Checking Protocol

Thorough Version

Read the full article. Keep an eye out for emotionally loaded words, and all-or-nothing language

Keep an eye out or anything that sounds too good to be true, and in contrast, anything that sounds so awful it must be true

Run the website/source through the amazing Media Bias/Fact Check. They'll tell you about a publication's bias and history of accuracy

Go to the website's home page and read through the headlines. Look at what topics they cover/prioritize, sensationalist headlines, and whether they're framing anything in a way that feels odd/off to you

Do a search related to the topic. This can be keywords, a question, or even just copy-paste the article title (Recommended: use DuckDuckGo so the results don't change based on what Google thinks they can sell you)

If multiple highly credible sources that say the same thing pop up, and there's no major societal biases that might affect the coverage of the topic in those sources (e.g. anything related to the Israel-Palestine conflict/Palestinian genocide, no matter which side), then I'm done!

If there are major societal biases, or I can't get a consensus of sufficiently credible sources, then I do some combination of:

(1) search the topic again + the words "controversy" and/or "fake"

(2) search the opposite of the topic, or do some sort of other filtered search

(3) look up a sufficiently credible news outlet with the opposite point of view of my source, and see what they have to say

(4) if it's a big enough topic, start by looking up 2 of the top national papers and 1 major paper for your region (I usually do the ones in the US, because that's where I am In the US: the LA Times, the Washington Post, and the NY Times)

Adjust "news" to "relevant type of source, e.g. tech, environmental" as relevant for all of the above options

If no red flags come up, and it's a topic I understand enough to smell huge bullshit,

Then I'm usually done!

If there are red flags, or I actually need a certain amount of detail/understanding, then it gets more complicated, but that would be a whole other thing to break down and such

or

tl;dr

Quick Version

Read the full article. Keep an eye out for emotionally loaded words, and all-or-nothing language

Keep an eye out or anything that sounds too good to be true, and in contrast, anything that sounds so awful it must be true.

If I don't know the website:

Run the website/source through the amazing Media Bias/Fact Check. They'll tell you about a publication's bias and history of accuracy

If I trust the source, but something else pinged my radar:

Do a quick web search to verify anything that sounds suspicious or too good/bad to be true (Recommended: use DuckDuckGo)

[gothamcitycentral]

What I find REALLY interesting actually is that, in contrast to her current nihilistic view of humanity and the world, the Bride did try to have a normal, human life and interacted with people before Eric’s stalking started.

Which could mean her perspective of “what has this ball of dirt ever done for me?” is rooted in the fact no one ever helped her have a life outside of him, or that society started rejecting her as violent for defending herself against him. And even that this world used to be much more accepting of “monsters” and this mass incarceration and societal scorn is actually more historically recent than we would think

[snowstories]

[Image: tags reading #hmmm #i think there are things that would have pushed roy et al to revolution but #Fullmetal Alchemist #I don't think you could honestly depict a revolution in a children's narrative #even the rare people like Applegrant]

Sorry to respond like this, I'm not gonna argue whether or not there are things that could've theoretically pushed roy et al to revolution without the fantasy threat because I think it's beside the point, but I DO want to respond to 'I don't think you could honestly depict revolution in children's media' because that's just not true. Volume 15 in this very manga is a grueling, graphic depiction of genocide featuring human experimentation, on-screen immolation, and mass murder. While magic plays a role in the volume, obviously, most of its actual depictions of war and genocide are grounded and realistic. If Arakawa could do that she could've had an at least slightly more grounded version of revolution, if she so chose; she didn't, though.

Yes, depending on the exact target audience, you may have to simplify a revolution when depicted in children's media (hell, I'd argue that the limitations of fiction necessitate simplification even in adult media). Simplification does not necessarily preclude honesty, however, and it irks me when people argue children's media is inherently incapable of handling a certain narrative just because that narrative is complex and dark. You can write a revolution in a story for children and do it well.

It really does actually annoy me when people claim FMA is a pro-revolution narrative because it's no more pro-revolution than any other fantasy series. Like half of the fantasy books in existence contain a spunky gang overthrowing an evil government/king. Fucking Harry Potter ended in a revolution. The presence of a revolution in a fantasy/sci-fi series does not in itself make for a pro-revolution narrative in a real world context.

The catalyst for FMA's revolution is not its genocide or the ongoing racism, discrimination, and disenfranchisement of the Ishvalan people. The catalyst for its revolution is that there are evil fantasy monsters masquerading as a government intent on using the massacres they've already caused to destroy the whole country via a magic ritual. The solution to the actual, real world problems of colonization, discrimination, and genocide is routinely and explicitly stated to be working within the system. Miles' entire character more or less exists to show an Ishvalan working within the military in order to change the system from the inside, and is contrasted with Scar (the only other Ishvalan character), whose chosen method is violence and direct disruption of the system, in a favorable way. And Miles' character is just one way in which this message — work within the system to change minds — is reinforced. 'Violent revolution' is a reaction to a fantasy threat, not real-world problems.

Revolution is a fun plot for fantasy/sci-fi because it pits underdog heroes against an overwhelming evil. And also, most people will agree in the abstract that revolutions are justified when faced with an overwhelming evil. The actual point of contention is what constitutes an 'overwhelming evil'. Most fantasy bypasses this messy question (and otherwise sanitizes revolutions) in various ways, allowing people who shudder at real-life revolutions to root for our heroes. FMA is no different; its fantasy threat, unreplicable in real life, is the driving factor and excuse for revolution, whereas its reaction to more grounded problems in Amestris' society is 'working within the system'.

Without the fantasy threat of the homunculi working towards a nation-wide transmutation circle that'll kill literally everyone in it, FMA never would've justified a revolution. Not on behalf of the Ishvalans, not as a reaction to genocide. Think of this what you will, I'm not here to tell you what to think about violent revolutions, but under these circumstances, I do not think it's accurate to describe FMA as a pro-revolution narrative anymore than it's accurate to describe Harry Potter as one.

[dreamersworldduh]

HIS AWAKENING — PART 2

SUMMARY — Nate Jacobs embodies the quintessential all-American quarterback—athletic, commanding, and effortlessly attractive. Beneath the surface, however, lies a man riddled with inner conflict. His outward bravado conceals a fragile core shaped by toxic societal expectations, a broken family dynamic, and a deep struggle with his own identity. Nate's carefully constructed image masks a storm of repressed emotions, his intimidating presence serving as both armor and a warning to those who might venture too close.

That is, until Y/N entered his life. Strikingly handsome and unapologetically bold, Y/N exudes a magnetic confidence that demands attention the moment he walks into a room. His blend of charisma, sass, and fearless energy challenges everything Nate thought he knew about himself—and about the walls he's built to keep others out.

WARNING! 18+ MDNI. Suggestive Langauge. Swearing.

WORDS! 12.9k

AUTHOR'S NOTE! Here’s part two where things get spicy for this lovely duo. I hope you enjoy.

PREVIOUS PART! HIS AWAKENING

NEXT PART! TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT

The cool air was a stark contrast to the heat still lingering on Y/N's skin from the party—and from Nate's touch. Their lips crashed together again, urgency threading through each movement as Nate pressed Y/N back against the door of their dorm room.

Y/N let out a breathless laugh between kisses, his hands fisting the front of Nate's hoodie as he tugged him closer. Nate's hands gripped Y/N's waist, fingers curling possessively around his hips, his broad frame effectively caging Y/N against the door.

"You were so dramatic about leaving," Nate muttered against Y/N's lips, his voice rough with desire.

Y/N smirked, tilting his head to deepen the kiss for just a moment before pulling back, breathless but still sharp-tongued. "I'm not making out in a disgusting frat house bathroom," he retorted. "Sticky floors, weird smells, God knows what on the walls—no thanks."

Nate chuckled, his breath fanning across Y/N's jaw as he pressed a lingering kiss just beneath his ear. "You're ridiculous," he murmured, but there was nothing but warmth in his voice.

"Practical," Y/N corrected, gasping when Nate's lips brushed the sensitive skin of his neck. "There's a difference."

With a low growl, Nate reached behind Y/N, fumbling blindly for the keycard. "Then let's be practical and get inside," he muttered, finally managing to unlock the door and push it open.

They stumbled into the dorm room, still tangled in each other. Y/N kicked the door shut behind them with a practiced ease, his back barely hitting the closed door before Nate surged forward, capturing his lips again in a heated kiss.

Y/N's fingers tugged at the hem of Nate's hoodie, slipping beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of his skin. "This... is so much better," he mumbled between kisses, his voice breathy.

"Yeah?" Nate rasped, his hands sliding up Y/N's back, fingers splaying against bare skin as he tugged him even closer. "Because you're so into cleanliness, right?"

Y/N grinned wickedly, tilting his head just enough to nip at Nate's lower lip. "I have standards, QB," he teased, his tone playful but charged with meaning.

Nate's response was immediate—he pressed Y/N against the door, his grip tightening just enough to draw a soft gasp from him. "I'll show you standards," Nate growled, crashing their mouths together again, sending them spiraling into another heated, breathless kiss.

Y/N barely had time to react before Nate's large hands gripped his thighs, lifting him off the ground with effortless strength.

"Whoa—Nate," Y/N gasped, his words breaking into a breathless laugh as his arms instinctively wrapped around Nate's shoulders for balance.

Nate's smirk was devilish as he pressed Y/N's back against the door, his hands tightening their grip on Y/N's thighs to hold him in place. "What?" he murmured against Y/N's lips, his voice low and rough. "Afraid I'm gonna drop you?"

Y/N rolled his eyes, though his breath hitched when Nate shifted his grip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Y/N's thighs. "No," he shot back, though the sharp edge of his voice was undercut by the flush rising in his cheeks. "I'm just surprised you didn't ask first—"

Whatever else Y/N was about to say dissolved into a sharp inhale as Nate leaned forward, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Y/N's neck.

"You talk too much," Nate growled, his voice muffled as he began trailing kisses along Y/N's neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down Y/N's spine.

Y/N let out a soft moan, his head tilting back to give Nate more access. His fingers curled in the fabric of Nate's hoodie, holding on tightly as Nate's lips moved lower, finding a spot just above Y/N's collarbone that made him shudder.

"Jesus, Nate," Y/N whispered, his voice breathy and laced with something he couldn't quite name.

Nate didn't respond, his only answer the press of his teeth against Y/N's skin, followed by the gentle suction of his lips. A low, guttural sound escaped Nate's throat as he worked, leaving a dark mark that bloomed against Y/N's pale skin.

Y/N's breathing grew heavier, his thighs instinctively tightening around Nate's waist. "You're—" He gasped when Nate moved to a new spot, his tongue flicking out to soothe the sting of his teeth. "You're really going for it, huh?"

Nate pulled back just enough to meet Y/N's gaze, his lips curled into a smug grin. "You're not stopping me," he said, his voice dripping with confidence.

Y/N narrowed his eyes, though the effect was ruined by the flush still burning across his cheeks. "Maybe because I—ah—" His sentence was cut off as Nate bit down lightly on another spot, drawing a soft moan from Y/N's lips.

The sound sent a surge of heat through Nate's chest, and he couldn't help the low groan that escaped him in response. "You're so sensitive," he murmured, his voice dropping even lower as he pressed another kiss to the rapidly darkening marks along Y/N's neck.

Y/N huffed out a laugh, though it was shaky. "Don't let it go to your head, QB," he said, his voice tinged with playful defiance.

But Nate didn't stop, his focus entirely on Y/N—on the way his body arched slightly against him, on the soft, breathless sounds escaping his lips, on the marks he was leaving behind like a claim.

"You're not as tough as you pretend to be," Nate murmured, his lips brushing against Y/N's ear.

"Shut up," Y/N shot back, though his voice was weaker now, his fingers tightening their grip on Nate's shoulders.

Nate chuckled, the sound vibrating against Y/N's skin as he pressed another kiss to his neck. "Make me," he whispered, his tone equal parts challenge and promise.

Y/N let out a soft, shaky breath, tilting his head to give Nate better access. The pressure of Nate's lips, the occasional scrape of teeth, and the warmth of his breath sent shivers cascading down Y/N's spine.

Y/N, needing some semblance of control in the situation, shifted slightly, loosening the grip of his legs. Nate hesitated, his hands tightening on Y/N's thighs to steady him, his brows furrowing slightly. "What are you—" he started, but his words cut off as Y/N leaned back against the door and gently kicked off his shoes. They hit the floor with soft thuds, the action slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving Nate's.

Nate pulled back just enough to meet Y/N's eyes, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue. "What are you doing?" he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl.

Y/N smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes as his hands slid up Nate's chest. "Relax, QB," he said, his voice breathy but steady. "Just making things... easier."

Without waiting for a response, Y/N's fingers reached the collar of Nate's hoodie, curling around the fabric. He moved slowly, his touch deliberate as he began to push the jacket off Nate's broad shoulders. Nate's breath hitched slightly, but he didn't stop him.

The hoodie slipped down Nate's arms, falling in a heap on the floor. Beneath it, Nate's t-shirt clung to him, the thin fabric outlining every muscle. Y/N's hands lingered for a moment, his palms brushing over Nate's chest as if committing the feel of him to memory.

Nate swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he looked down at Y/N. His hands, still gripping Y/N's thighs, flexed slightly, and his breathing grew heavier. "You always this bossy?" he asked, his tone tinged with both amusement and something deeper.

Y/N tilted his head, his smirk softening into a sly smile. "Only when it works," he replied, his voice low and teasing.

Nate let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly, but the intensity in his gaze never wavered. "You're something else, you know that?"

"Yeah," Y/N said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. His hands slid up to Nate's shoulders, pulling him closer. "And you're still holding me up like I weigh nothing. Show-off."

Nate's lips twitched into a small smirk of his own, but instead of replying, he leaned in, capturing Y/N's lips in another heated kiss. The moment their mouths met, the room seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of them and the electric pull between them.

As the kiss deepened, Nate shifted slightly, pressing Y/N more firmly against the door, and Y/N couldn't help the soft moan that escaped him. His hands gripped Nate's shoulders tightly, his earlier teasing replaced by something far more raw and unguarded.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Just them.

Suddenly, Nate's hands remained firm on Y/N's thighs as he pulled him away from the door, his strength evident in the ease with which he carried him. Y/N's legs tightened slightly around Nate's waist, the friction of the moment sending heat radiating between them.

Nate's gaze flicked toward his bed, the unspoken intent clear in his determined strides. But as they neared the edge of the mattress, Y/N gently pressed a hand to Nate's chest, his touch firm but not forceful.

"Wait," Y/N said, his voice soft but steady, his cheeks flushed with a mix of exertion and emotion.

Nate froze, his brows furrowing slightly as he searched Y/N's face. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Y/N didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let his legs slide down from around Nate's waist, his feet finding the floor. Nate's hands hovered instinctively at his sides, as if ready to steady him. But Y/N's movements were purposeful, his eyes locked onto Nate's with an intensity that made Nate's chest tighten.

Y/N took a small step back, his hands slipping from Nate's shoulders to rest on his chest. Slowly, deliberately, he trailed his fingers down the fabric of Nate's t-shirt, over the firm lines of his torso. His touch was light, teasing, as he traced the faint outlines of muscle.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Y/N dropped to his knees.

Nate's breath hitched audibly, his hands twitching at his sides as he looked down at Y/N, the sight before him rendering him momentarily speechless. Y/N knelt there, his movements fluid and deliberate, his fingers toying with the hem of Nate's shirt as a sly smirk played on his lips.

"Y/N..." Nate started, his voice catching in his throat. He wasn't sure if it was a question, a warning, or something else entirely.

Y/N tilted his head, his eyes glinting with mischief and something deeper. "Relax, QB," he murmured, his voice low and velvety. "I just figured I'd take the lead for once."

Nate's jaw tightened, his breathing shallow as he tried to process the shift in control. Y/N's fingers brushed over his waistband, light and teasing, and Nate couldn't help the way his body reacted, his hands instinctively moving to Y/N's shoulders for balance.

The moment hung heavy between them, charged with anticipation and an undeniable heat. For Nate, every nerve in his body felt alive, his focus entirely on Y/N—on the way he looked up at him, the way his touch sent shivers down his spine.

"Y/N," Nate said again, his voice softer this time, filled with a mix of restraint and longing.

Y/N's smirk softened into something more genuine, his hands stilling as he met Nate's gaze head-on. "I've got you," he said simply, his voice carrying both reassurance and a quiet confidence that left Nate reeling.

Nate stood frozen, his hands resting heavily on Y/N's shoulders, his breathing uneven as Y/N knelt before him. The faint hum of the dormitory's fluorescent lights was the only sound, but it was drowned out by the rush of blood in Nate's ears.

Y/N's fingers moved with deliberate slowness, brushing against the waistband of Nate's jeans, toying with the button for a moment before undoing it with a deft flick of his fingers. His eyes flicked upward, meeting Nate's with a mischievous glint as he gripped the zipper tab, pausing just long enough to make Nate's breath hitch.

"You're awfully quiet, QB," Y/N teased, his voice low and silky, the corners of his lips curving into a knowing smirk.

Nate swallowed hard, his hands tightening slightly on Y/N's shoulders. "Y/N..." he began, but his voice was thick, his words trailing off as Y/N slowly dragged the zipper down, the sound loud in the stillness of the room.

Nate's jeans loosened around his hips, revealing the band of his boxers beneath. Y/N let his hands linger, brushing over the fabric teasingly before tugging the jeans down just enough to expose more of Nate's boxers. The bulge beneath the thin fabric was undeniable, his arousal straining against the material, and Y/N's smirk deepened at the sight.

"You've been holding out on me," Y/N murmured, leaning forward until his lips hovered just above Nate's clothed length. His warm breath ghosted over the sensitive area, drawing a sharp inhale from Nate.

"Y/N..." Nate's voice was low, almost a growl, but there was a raw edge of vulnerability in it that made Y/N pause for a moment, his smirk softening.

"Relax," Y/N whispered, his voice steady but laced with playful reassurance. "I told you—I've got you."

And with that, he pressed a soft, teasing kiss against the fabric of Nate's boxers, right over the swollen length beneath. The contact was light, almost maddeningly so, but it was enough to draw a quiet, unrestrained groan from Nate's throat.

Y/N continued, his kisses slow and deliberate, each one sending jolts of heat through Nate's body. The warmth of Y/N's lips against the thin fabric was a maddening combination of pleasure and restraint, and Nate's grip on Y/N's shoulders tightened, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath.

"You're... driving me crazy," Nate managed to say, his voice hoarse, his usual control slipping with each passing second.

"That's the idea," Y/N quipped, his tone playful but dripping with intent. He kissed his way along Nate's dick, his lips trailing from the base to the tip, the thin barrier of fabric only heightening the sensation.

Nate's head tipped back slightly, his hands slipping from Y/N's shoulders to grip the edge of the nearby desk for support. His knuckles turned white as he fought to keep himself steady, every nerve in his body alight with sensation.

Y/N's lips lingered for a moment longer before he pulled back, his gaze flicking up to meet Nate's. His smirk returned, equal parts teasing and self-assured. "You good up there?" he asked, his voice dripping with mischief.

Nate looked down at him, his usually sharp eyes now clouded with a haze of want. "Y/N," he said again, his voice firmer now, though it trembled at the edges.

Y/N chuckled softly, his hands sliding up Nate's thighs. "Don't worry, QB," he said, his tone softer now, more intimate. "We're just getting started."

Y/N's fingers lingered on the waistband of Nate's boxers, his touch teasingly light as he toyed with the elastic. Nate stood above him, his breathing uneven, his hands now gripping the edge of the desk behind him for support.

Y/N glanced up, his sharp eyes meeting Nate's, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. "You're not nervous, are you?" he asked, his tone light, though it carried an edge of mischief.

"Not even a little," Nate replied, his voice low and steady, but the way his chest rose and fell betrayed the truth.

Y/N hummed softly, his fingers curling into the fabric of Nate's boxers. With a deliberate slowness that could only be described as torturous, he pulled the waistband downward, just enough to free Nate's swollen dick.

The sight before him made Y/N pause, his usual quick wit momentarily silenced. Nate's size was, frankly, impressive—more than impressive. For a brief second, Y/N's expression faltered, his surprise flashing across his face before he quickly schooled his features into something more composed.

"Damn," Y/N murmured under his breath, his voice almost inaudible, but loud enough for Nate to hear.

Nate's lips twitched into a smirk, the kind of self-assured grin that sent a flicker of both amusement and irritation through Y/N. "Something you want to say?" Nate asked, his voice deep and laced with unmistakable smugness.

Y/N tilted his head, his smirk returning as he looked up at Nate with a practiced nonchalance. "You're not bad, QB," he said, his tone casual but with just enough bite to keep Nate on his toes. "I'll give you that."

"Not bad?" Nate echoed, raising an eyebrow as his smirk widened. "Pretty sure that's not what you were thinking just now."

Y/N rolled his eyes, though the slight flush on his cheeks gave him away. "Don't let it go to your head," he quipped, his hand wrapping loosely around Nate's length, his thumb brushing along the heated skin. "Confidence isn't always a good look."

Nate let out a low, shaky breath, his smirk faltering for a moment as his head tipped back slightly. "You talk a lot," he managed to say, though his voice had lost some of its usual bite.

Y/N chuckled, his grip tightening just enough to make Nate's breath hitch. "And you're pretty full of yourself," he shot back, his smirk softening into something more playful. "Let's see if you can keep it together, QB."

For once, Nate didn't have a comeback, his focus entirely on Y/N's touch as the tension between them reached a fever pitch.

Y/N's smirk didn't waver as his fingers tightened slightly around Nate's dick, his touch deliberate and calculated. The slight hitch in Nate's breath was all the encouragement Y/N needed.

"Relax, QB," Y/N murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned forward.

Nate's jaw clenched, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the desk for balance. He didn't respond, but the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths betrayed the effect Y/N had on him.

Without breaking eye contact, Y/N leaned closer, his tongue darting out to flick lightly against the tip of Nate's swollen dick. The touch was featherlight, almost teasing, but it drew a sharp inhale from Nate, his hips jerking forward slightly in response.

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Nate's skin as he licked again, this time trailing his tongue slowly along the underside of Nate's dick. His movements were unhurried, methodical, and maddeningly precise, as if savoring the way Nate's body responded to him.

"Jesus, Y/N," Nate muttered, his voice rough, his head tipping back slightly as he fought to maintain some semblance of control.

Y/N smirked, the corners of his lips curling as he pulled back slightly. "What's the matter, QB?" he asked, his voice thick with mock innocence. "Not what you were expecting?"

Nate let out a low, shaky breath, his gaze dropping to meet Y/N's. His usual confidence was faltering, his composure unraveling with each skilled flick of Y/N's tongue. "You're—" he started, but his words caught in his throat as Y/N wrapped his lips around the tip, applying just enough pressure to make Nate's knees threaten to buckle.

Y/N hummed softly, the vibration sending a shiver through Nate's entire body. His hands gripped the desk even tighter as Y/N worked, his tongue gliding over every inch of him with practiced ease. Each movement was deliberate, calculated to drive Nate closer to the edge without giving him the satisfaction of falling over it.

"Where the hell did you learn—" Nate started, his voice strained, but he didn't finish the sentence, his breath hitching again as Y/N's tongue swirled expertly around him.

Y/N pulled back just enough to speak, his voice dripping with amusement. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he teased, before leaning back in, his movements smooth and unrelenting.

Nate's smirk was long gone, replaced by a mixture of frustration and something deeper, more raw. His fingers flexed against the desk as he looked down at Y/N, his breath coming in shallow gasps. "You're... impossible," he managed to say, his voice hoarse.

Y/N glanced up at him, his eyes glinting with mischief as he slowed his movements, drawing out each moment with excruciating precision. "And you're easy to impress," he quipped, his lips brushing against Nate's shaft as he spoke.

Nate let out a low growl, his head tipping back as he let the sensation take over, every nerve in his body alive with the intensity of the moment. For the first time, he had no control—and he didn't care.

Every flick of Y/N's tongue and deliberate movement of his lips unraveling Nate's composure piece by piece. Nate's grip on the desk behind him tightened, his knuckles white as he struggled to stay upright, his legs threatening to give out beneath him.

The moment Y/N took him fully into his mouth, the warmth enveloping him, Nate let out a low, guttural groan that echoed through the room. His head tipped back, his eyes squeezing shut as his lips parted in a breathless exhale.

"Fuck, Y/N," Nate muttered, his voice deep and ragged, the sound tinged with both desperation and awe.

Y/N smirked slightly around him, his movements calculated as he hollowed his cheeks, increasing the intensity. His tongue worked expertly, tracing every contour, every sensitive spot he'd quickly learned to exploit. He glanced up briefly, catching Nate's expression—a mixture of pleasure and disbelief—and felt a surge of satisfaction.

Nate's groans grew louder, the sound vibrating in his chest as his free hand instinctively reached out, his fingers threading through Y/N's hair. He wasn't forceful, but his grip was firm, grounding himself in the sensation as his hips pressed forward ever so slightly.

The warmth of Y/N's mouth, combined with the skilled way his tongue moved, sent shivers racing up Nate's spine. His breathing was ragged, each exhale punctuated by soft curses and murmured praises.

"You're... so fucking good at this," Nate managed to say between breaths, his voice cracking slightly as another groan tore from his throat. His vulnerability in the moment, the rawness of his reaction, sent a thrill through Y/N that spurred him on.

Y/N's hands rested firmly on Nate's hips, steadying him as he continued, his movements unrelenting. The faint scrape of his nails through the fabric of Nate's shirt added another layer of sensation, one that had Nate gasping audibly.

"Y/N," Nate groaned again, his voice breaking into something almost pleading. His usual confidence had completely melted away, replaced by unfiltered need. "Jesus Christ, you're—"

Y/N pulled back slightly, his lips dragging slowly along Nate's length, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. "Speechless, QB?" he teased, his voice low and husky, his breath warm against Nate's skin.

Nate's jaw clenched, his eyes opening just enough to glare down at Y/N, though the effect was ruined by the flush creeping up his neck and the way his chest heaved. "You're... ridiculous," he muttered, though there was no heat behind the words.

"Maybe," Y/N murmured before taking him back into his mouth, his pace quickening just enough to draw another sharp groan from Nate, his entire body tensing in response.

Every sound Nate made—every groan, every breathless expletive—only fueled Y/N's determination to push him further, to see just how far he could unravel the man who prided himself on control. And as Nate's voice filled the room, raw and unrestrained, Y/N knew he was succeeding.

Nate gripped onto the desk behind him as though it were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His broad shoulders, usually squared and confident, slumped slightly under the weight of the moment, his head tipped back, his chest heaving.

But none of that compared to the sight before him.

Y/N was on his knees, a picture of deliberate poise and control. His movements were fluid, each flick of his tongue and glide of his lips so purposeful it felt like a carefully crafted symphony, each note resonating deep within Nate. The dim light caught the angles of Y/N's face, the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, the way his lashes framed his half-lidded eyes as he glanced up at Nate with something that felt far too knowing.

Nate's stomach twisted—not in discomfort, but in something he couldn't quite name. It wasn't just physical; it wasn't just the way Y/N was touching him. There was something deeper, something far more unsettling about the way his chest ached when he looked down at him.

Damn it, Nate thought, his jaw tightening as he tried to focus on anything but the warmth pooling in his chest.

Y/N was breathtaking like this, every movement dripping with confidence, every smirk tugging at the corner of his lips challenging Nate in ways he wasn't used to. The sharp wit, the audaciousness that always left Nate either flustered or infuriated, now felt like a magnet pulling him in further than he wanted to go.

The thought sent a pang of panic through him.

No. This isn't that, Nate told himself, though even in his own head the words sounded hollow. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. He wasn't supposed to notice the faint blush across Y/N's cheeks, the way his hair fell messily against his forehead, or the look of determination in his eyes as though he were intent on unraveling Nate completely.

But he noticed all of it. He felt all of it. And for one terrifying second, Nate almost let himself admit it.

The word love floated at the edge of his mind, soft and insistent, but Nate shoved it aside with a force that almost felt violent. He couldn't go there—not now, not ever.

Instead, he tried to focus on the heat of the moment, on the physical sensations that were enough to leave him gasping for breath. He let his gaze drop to Y/N again, taking in the sight of him, every sharp edge and soft curve illuminated by the dim lighting.

And just for a fleeting moment, Nate let himself feel it.

Maybe this is what it's supposed to feel like, the thought whispered, unbidden, before he squashed it down again.

"Y/N," Nate murmured, his voice rough and low, the word falling from his lips like a confession.

Y/N glanced up at him, his smirk shifting into something softer, something almost tender. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice warm and teasing, his lips brushing against Nate's skin as he spoke.

Nate hesitated, his throat tightening around the words he wanted to say but couldn't. He let his fingers brush against the edge of the desk again, his grip faltering as he forced a smirk back onto his face.

"Nothing," Nate finally said, his voice a little too strained, a little too hollow. "Just... keep going."

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn't push, his knowing smile returning as he leaned back in. Nate's breath hitched again, and for the rest of the night, he let himself drown in Y/N's touch, letting the feeling replace the words he couldn't bring himself to say.

But deep down, Nate knew the truth. It was there in the way his chest tightened, in the way his thoughts kept circling back to Y/N's face, his touch, his voice. And as much as Nate tried to ignore it, he couldn't help but feel the weight of it settle in his chest.

Almost in love, he thought again, though he wouldn't admit it. Not to Y/N. Not even to himself.

Y/N continued his deliberate work. His mouth moved over Nate's dick with practiced precision, every flick of his tongue and every deliberate pull of his lips sending shudders through Nate's body. The heat was overwhelming, radiating between them in waves that seemed to build with each passing second.

Nate's grip on the desk tightened, his knuckles white, his breathing ragged and uneven. His broad chest heaved, the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin as he tilted his head back, eyes squeezing shut. Every nerve in his body felt alive, hyper-aware of the warmth and pressure Y/N was providing.

"Y/N," Nate groaned, his voice hoarse and unsteady. The sound was almost a plea, his usual confidence stripped away as the sensations overwhelmed him.

Y/N didn't stop, his hands steady on Nate's hips as he continued with deliberate care, his tongue tracing every sensitive spot with maddening precision. His eyes flicked upward, catching the expression on Nate's face—jaw slack, lips parted, brows furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and disbelief.

Smirking slightly, Y/N pulled back just enough to let his breath fan across Nate's length, his voice low and teasing. "What's the matter, QB?" he asked, his tone laced with playful arrogance. "Can't handle it?"

Nate let out a strained chuckle, though it sounded more like a groan. "You're... annoying," he managed, his hands twitching as though fighting the urge to grab Y/N and pull him closer.

Y/N's smirk deepened, his lips brushing against Nate's heated skin as he whispered, "And you're loving every moment of this." He moved again, his mouth enveloping Nate with renewed focus, drawing a sharp inhale and another low groan from him.

But suddenly, as if something snapped inside him, Nate's hands moved. Without warning, he gripped Y/N firmly by the shoulders, the strength in his fingers undeniable. Before Y/N could process what was happening, Nate's arms flexed, and he lifted Y/N effortlessly off the floor.

"Whoa—Nate!" Y/N yelped, his hands instinctively gripping Nate's forearms as his feet left the ground. His protest was cut short as Nate turned and set him down on the edge of the desk, the movement quick but controlled.

The cool surface of the desk contrasted sharply with the heat between them, sending a shiver through Y/N as he adjusted to the new position. Nate leaned in, his hands braced on either side of Y/N, his towering frame caging him in. Their faces were close now, close enough for Y/N to feel Nate's warm breath against his lips.

"What the hell was that for?" Y/N asked, his voice breathless, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed that he wasn't entirely annoyed.

Nate smirked, his gaze intense as it locked onto Y/N's. "You were having too much fun," he said, his voice low and gravelly, laced with something darker. "Thought I'd even the playing field."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, though his lips quirked into a sly grin. "Even the playing field?" he repeated, his voice dripping with amusement. "Big talk for someone who could barely stand a second ago."

Nate let out a low chuckle, his hands sliding to Y/N's hips, his grip firm but careful. "Keep talking, Y/N," he murmured, his tone both a warning and a challenge. "See where it gets you."

Y/N opened his mouth to respond, but the words dissolved into a sharp inhale as Nate leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was heated, urgent, and consuming, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt about who was in control now.

Y/N's hands gripped Nate's shirt tightly, pulling him closer as he returned the kiss with equal fervor. The desk creaked slightly under their weight, the room filled with the sound of their breaths mingling, the tension between them snapping like a live wire.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the party they'd left behind, not the lingering questions in Nate's mind, not the growing heat between them. All that existed was the here and now, and neither of them was willing to let it go.

The kiss broke with a sudden, deliberate motion, leaving both Nate and Y/N breathless. Nate leaned back, his hands lingering on the desk on either side of Y/N as he stared down at him, his chest heaving. Y/N's lips were slightly swollen from the kiss, his cheeks flushed with heat, his eyes burning with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

Without a word, Nate reached for the hem of his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly before pulling it over his head in one fluid motion. The action was unhurried but confident, his movements purposeful as he tossed the shirt aside. His skin glowed faintly under the dim dormitory light, every muscle of his torso carved with a precision that could only be earned through years of discipline and effort.

Next came his shoes, kicked off carelessly to land somewhere near the desk. Then his pants, unzipped and discarded with a practiced ease that made it clear he had no time for hesitation. Finally, Nate hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down slowly, deliberately, until he stood before Y/N completely bare.

The room seemed to still as Y/N's gaze swept over him, lingering on the defined ridges of his abs, the broad expanse of his chest, the sharp line of his jaw—and lower still, where Nate's confidence was impossible to ignore.

Nate's smirk widened as he caught the way Y/N's eyes flickered up and down, the brief widening of his pupils betraying what words didn't. "You like what you see?" Nate asked, his voice low and teasing, dripping with the kind of cockiness that only he could pull off.

Y/N's mouth quirked into a small, sly smile, though the flush on his cheeks betrayed his composure. "You're definitely not shy, QB," he retorted, his voice carrying a hint of breathlessness.

"Why would I be?" Nate countered, stepping closer, his body radiating heat and confidence. "When you've got this?" He gestured to himself with a faint tilt of his chin, his tone playful but tinged with pride.

Y/N rolled his eyes, though his grin deepened. "Careful," he said, his tone mockingly serious. "That ego's getting too big for this room."

Nate chuckled, his smirk softening as his hands reached out to Y/N, gently gripping his arms. "We'll see who's talking about egos by the end of this," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

With a deliberate slowness, Nate pulled Y/N to his feet, their bodies just inches apart. His hands moved to the hem of Y/N's shirt, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of Y/N's stomach as he began to lift it. He took his time, his eyes never leaving Y/N's as he slipped the shirt over his head, tossing it to join the growing pile of discarded clothes.

Next came Y/N's pants. Nate's hands slid down Y/N's sides, his touch firm but careful, guiding Y/N's hips forward as his fingers hooked into the waistband. He didn't rush, instead pulling the fabric down inch by inch, his lips curling into a smirk as more of Y/N's skin was revealed.

"You're quiet," Nate said softly, his voice teasing as he knelt slightly to pull the pants down completely, leaving Y/N in nothing but his underwear. "Not like you."

Y/N's breath hitched slightly as Nate's hands brushed against his thighs, his skin tingling where Nate's fingers lingered. "Just... enjoying the show," Y/N shot back, his voice quieter than usual but still carrying its usual edge of defiance.

Nate let out a low chuckle, his hands slipping to the waistband of Y/N's underwear. He tugged at it gently, his eyes darkening as his gaze swept over Y/N's body. "Your turn," Nate murmured, his smirk softening into something more intimate as he began to slide the fabric down, exposing Y/N fully to the warm air of the room.

The tension between them was palpable, each movement deliberate and charged with unspoken energy. When they were finally both stripped bare, Nate stepped back slightly, his eyes raking over Y/N with a mixture of admiration and hunger.

"Looks like I'm not the only one with something to be cocky about," Nate said, his smirk returning, though there was a warmth in his tone that made the comment feel less like a tease and more like a genuine compliment.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, his smirk mirroring Nate's as he closed the gap between them, their bodies brushing. "Told you that ego was too big," Y/N murmured, his voice low.

"Guess you'll just have to put me in my place," Nate replied, his hands finding Y/N's waist.

Their bodies were flush against each other, skin slick and warm, each breath they shared fanning the heat between them. Nate's hands found their way to Y/N's waist, his fingers gripping firmly as he pulled Y/N even closer, their bodies perfectly aligned.

Y/N gasped softly, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he felt Nate's dick graze against his own. The sensation was maddeningly intimate, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through him.

Nate's lips brushed against Y/N's ear, the warmth of his breath making Y/N's knees threaten to give out. "You feel that?" Nate murmured, his voice low and rough, each word dripping with seductive intent. "That's all because of you."

Y/N's hands pressed against Nate's chest, his fingers curling slightly, but he didn't push him away. Instead, he tilted his head, giving Nate better access as his lips ghosted along the sensitive skin just below Y/N's ear.

"You're driving me insane, Y/N," Nate whispered, his voice a mix of frustration and raw desire. His grip tightened, his large hands sliding down to Y/N's hips before moving to firmly grasp his ass. The roughness of his touch drew a sharp gasp from Y/N, who arched into him instinctively.

Nate smirked at the reaction, his confidence growing as he kneaded the soft flesh with his hands, his fingers digging in just enough to leave a lingering heat. "You like that, don't you?" he teased, his tone laced with a wicked edge. "You like the way I touch you. The way I make you feel."

Y/N's head fell forward, his forehead resting against Nate's shoulder as his breathing grew heavier. "Nate..." he murmured, his voice shaky but not pleading, a challenge wrapped in soft surrender.

"What?" Nate replied, his smirk audible in his voice as he pressed their bodies closer, their dicks grazing again. The friction was almost too much, the sensation pulling a low groan from Nate's throat. "Can't handle it?"

Y/N's breath hitched, and he tilted his head back, his lips dangerously close to Nate's as his eyes burned with defiance. "You're the one losing control," he shot back, though his voice wavered, his body betraying the composure he was trying to maintain.

Nate's smirk deepened as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Y/N's jaw before moving back to his ear. "Losing control?" he whispered, his tone dark and seductive. His hands squeezed Y/N's ass again, pulling him even closer, their bodies practically molding together. "No, Y/N. This is me in control. Every sound you make, every time your body reacts to mine—that's all me."

Y/N's sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation Nate needed. He shifted slightly, the deliberate motion creating just enough friction between them to make Y/N let out a soft, unguarded moan.

Nate chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating against Y/N's skin. "That's what I thought," he murmured, his lips brushing against Y/N's ear again as he continued his whispered assault. "You're mine tonight, Y/N. Every inch of you."

Y/N's response was lost in another gasp as Nate pressed them together again, the heat and intensity of the moment consuming them both, leaving nothing but raw, unspoken desire in its wake.

Nate lifted Y/N effortlessly, his strength undeniable. He set Y/N down on the edge of the desk with deliberate care, his body slotting between Y/N's legs as he leaned forward, their foreheads briefly brushing together.

Y/N let out a soft gasp, his thighs instinctively wrapping around Nate's hips to pull him closer. The heat between them was undeniable, their skin flushed and slick as they pressed together, Nate's broad frame practically engulfing Y/N's.

Nate reached down, his hands sliding along Y/N's thighs, his grip possessive and firm as he aligned their bodies. The room was silent except for the sound of their shallow breaths and the faint creak of the desk beneath them.

Just as Nate positioned himself, Y/N placed a hand on Nate's chest, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. "Top drawer," he said, his voice breathy but playful. "There's lube in there. Might make things easier, you know."

Nate paused for a beat, his sharp eyes locking onto Y/N's. The corner of his mouth twitched into a cocky grin, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from Y/N's face. "Appreciate the offer," he murmured, his voice low and dripping with confidence. "But I've got my own way."

Before Y/N could respond, Nate brought one hand to his dick, wrapping his fingers around it with practiced ease. His other hand cupped Y/N's hip to keep him steady as he spit into his palm, the sound sharp and deliberate. Y/N's eyes widened slightly, his gaze fixed on Nate's every movement as Nate spread the moisture along his dick, his hand moving with slow, deliberate strokes.

The sight was hypnotizing—Nate's muscles flexing with each motion, the gleam of his length catching the dim light, and the self-assured smirk on his face as he watched Y/N watching him. "See?" Nate said, his tone laced with teasing arrogance. "Told you I've got this."

Y/N's cheeks flushed, but he didn't look away. His lips parted slightly as he exhaled a shaky breath, the anticipation winding tighter in his chest. "Always so sure of yourself," Y/N murmured, his voice softer now, though there was a hint of challenge in his tone.

Nate's smirk deepened as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Y/N's ear. "Because I know exactly what I'm doing," he whispered, his voice rough with intent.

Y/N shivered at the sound, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he tilted his head back, exposing the curve of his neck. Nate didn't waste another moment, his hands sliding to Y/N's hips to position him properly, his touch firm but careful.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Nate adjusted his stance, his movements unhurried, every action deliberate. The tension between them was nearly unbearable, the air thick with expectation as Nate lined himself up, his focus entirely on Y/N.

"Ready?" Nate asked, his voice softer now, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through his usual confidence.

Y/N met his gaze, his own smirk fading into something more genuine. "Always," he whispered, his voice steady despite the tremor in his chest.

With that, Nate pressed forward, his hands gripping Y/N's hips with a mix of control and urgency. Y/N's head tilted back, his lips parting as he let out a soft, shaky moan, the sound breaking the stillness of the room. It was quiet but raw, laced with pleasure and vulnerability, and it sent a jolt of satisfaction straight through Nate.

Nate froze for a moment, his smirk deepening as he processed the sound. His eyes locked onto Y/N, who was flushed and breathless, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. The sight of Y/N like this—completely undone, his body arching against the desk—was enough to stoke Nate's confidence to a fiery peak.

"Like that?" Nate murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned forward, his breath warm against Y/N's ear. His fingers tightened on Y/N's hips, holding him firmly in place as he pulled back slightly, only to push forward again with deliberate precision.

Y/N gasped, his hands gripping the edge of the desk for stability as Nate began to find a rhythm. His voice came out in breathless fragments. "Nate..." he moaned softly, the sound barely above a whisper but filled with enough heat to make Nate's stomach twist.

The smirk on Nate's face grew as he took in every detail—the way Y/N's back arched just enough to meet his movements, the way his thighs tensed around Nate's hips, the faint sheen of sweat forming along his skin. "That's it," Nate said, his voice rough and commanding. "Let me hear you."

He adjusted his stance slightly, his hips snapping forward at a faster pace. The desk creaked faintly beneath them, the sound mingling with the soft moans escaping Y/N's lips. Every thrust drew another reaction from Y/N, each one more unguarded than the last, his voice rising in pitch as Nate pushed him further toward the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N," Nate growled, his smirk faltering for a moment as the pleasure coursing through him became almost overwhelming. He gritted his teeth, his focus locked entirely on the way Y/N's body moved with him, the way he clenched around him with every thrust.

Y/N let out another soft, drawn-out moan, his hands scrambling to find purchase on Nate's shoulders. His fingers curled into the firm muscle there, holding on tightly as his head fell forward, his breath hot against Nate's neck. "You're—" Y/N started, his words dissolving into a gasp as Nate's pace quickened further, his movements becoming more intense.

"What was that?" Nate teased, his voice rough but steady as he dipped his head to brush his lips against Y/N's ear. "You can't even finish a sentence, can you?"

Y/N's response was another soft moan, his fingers digging deeper into Nate's shoulders as he tilted his head back, exposing the line of his throat. Nate couldn't help himself—he leaned in, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin there, his teeth grazing lightly as he continued to thrust.

The combination of Nate's movements and his teasing touch sent Y/N spiraling, his body tensing and trembling as the pleasure mounted. "Nate..." he gasped again, his voice cracking slightly as he clung to him.

Nate's smirk returned, but his movements remained relentless, every thrust calculated to drive Y/N further over the edge. "That's it," he murmured, his voice almost a growl. "Keep making those sounds for me."

And Y/N did, his moans filling the room as Nate's pace quickened, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt both chaotic and perfectly synchronized. Nate's cocky exterior may have been intact, but the way his jaw clenched and his breathing grew heavier betrayed the fact that Y/N was pushing him to his limits, too.

This was more than physical—it was raw, unfiltered, and completely consuming, leaving neither of them any room to think about anything but the fire that burned between them.

Y/N's mind was a haze, every coherent thought drowned out by the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He knew Nate had said something—teasing him, challenging him, that smug tone laced with arrogance—but the words barely registered. The only thing Y/N could focus on was the heat of Nate's body pressed against his, the firm grip of Nate's hands on his hips, and the relentless rhythm that left him gasping for air.

His lips parted as if to respond, but no sound came out except for a soft, breathless moan. The pleasure was all-consuming, leaving Y/N completely at Nate's mercy. His fingers curled tightly around the edge of the desk, his knuckles white as he tried to ground himself against the overwhelming sensation.

Nate's voice came again, low and teasing, right against Y/N's ear. "What's the matter, Y/N?" he murmured, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. "You always have something to say. Cat got your tongue?"

Y/N wanted to snap back, wanted to match Nate's cocky energy with a sharp retort, but the words were caught in his throat. Another thrust from Nate sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through him, his back arching involuntarily as his head tipped back. The sound that escaped him was more of a gasp than a response, his body trembling under Nate's relentless pace.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Nate growled, his hands tightening on Y/N's hips as he pulled him closer, their bodies moving perfectly in sync. "You're too far gone, aren't you? Can't even think straight."

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, though it dissolved almost immediately into a whimper as Nate shifted slightly, hitting a spot that made his vision blur. "N-Nate..." he gasped, his voice shaky and weak, barely audible over the sound of their bodies moving together.

Nate smirked, the corners of his lips curving upward as he leaned in, his breath hot against Y/N's neck. "That's all you've got?" he murmured, his tone both mocking and tender, the combination enough to make Y/N's knees feel like jelly.

Y/N tried again to form a response, his lips moving soundlessly for a moment before another thrust sent him spiraling, his grip on the desk tightening as his body shuddered. "I—I..." he stammered, but whatever thought he'd been trying to voice was wiped away by another wave of pleasure.

"That's what I thought," Nate said again, his smirk widening as he watched Y/N unravel beneath him. "Blinded by it, aren't you? Don't worry—I've got you."

And Y/N, for all his usual wit and defiance, could do nothing but cling to Nate's words and the overwhelming sensation, his mind and body completely at the mercy of the pleasure Nate was giving him.

Nate's hands gripped Y/N's thighs firmly, his strong fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he adjusted his stance. With a low, guttural groan, he bent slightly, his muscles flexing as he hooked Y/N's legs around his waist.

"Hold on," Nate murmured, his voice rough and breathy, carrying both a warning and a promise.

Y/N instinctively wrapped his arms around Nate's shoulders, his fingers curling into the fabric of Nate's damp shirt. His legs tightened around Nate's hips, locking him in place, but it did little to prepare him for what came next.

With one smooth motion, Nate lifted him, his powerful arms supporting Y/N's weight as if it were nothing. The movement caused Y/N to gasp sharply, the sudden shift making him hyperaware of the way Nate was still buried deep inside him. The stretch, the pressure—it sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through Y/N's body, leaving him breathless.

Nate smirked, his confidence only growing as he felt Y/N tremble in his grasp. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. "I've got you."

Y/N barely had time to respond before Nate began moving him, sliding him up his length with a deliberate slowness before pulling him back down. The sensation was intense, every movement sending sparks through Y/N's body as he clung tightly to Nate.

"Oh, my God," Y/N gasped, his head falling back as his body arched. His nails dug into Nate's shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as Nate set a steady rhythm, lifting and lowering him with practiced ease.

Nate's grip tightened, his strong hands guiding Y/N's movements with precision. His own breath was ragged, his chest heaving as he watched Y/N's reactions. The sight of Y/N like this—completely undone, his head tilted back, his lips parted in breathless moans—was enough to make Nate's control waver.

"You feel so fucking good," Nate muttered, his voice rough and unsteady as he shifted slightly, angling his thrusts to hit deeper. The change drew a sharp cry from Y/N, whose thighs tightened reflexively around Nate's waist.

"Shit—Nate," Y/N gasped, his voice breaking as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. His body moved in perfect sync with Nate's, each slide and thrust pushing him closer to the edge.

Nate grinned through his own ragged breaths, his smirk tinged with something softer as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against Y/N's. "I've got you," he murmured again, his voice a little quieter, but no less certain.

Y/N's hands slid to the back of Nate's neck, his fingers tangling in his hair as he held on tightly. The room felt like it was spinning, the only grounding force the steady strength of Nate's movements and the heat of his touch.

"Don't stop," Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with urgency.

Nate let out a low chuckle, his grip on Y/N tightening even further. "Wasn't planning on it," he replied, his tone laced with determination as he quickened his pace, driving them both toward the edge with every deliberate motion.

The heat in the room was almost unbearable, the air thick with the mingling scents of sweat and desire. At some point, their frantic movements had carried them off the desk and onto the floor, the hard surface cool against their heated skin. Neither of them seemed to notice or care. Their focus was entirely on each other, their bodies entangled in a rhythm that had long since blurred the lines between urgency and passion.

Y/N was straddling Nate's lap, his back arched as he leaned against Nate's broad chest for support. Nate's arms were wrapped tightly around him, one hand gripping Y/N's hip with bruising force while the other slid up to rest lightly on his neck. The possessive hold sent a thrill through Y/N, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as Nate's hips thrust upward in a relentless, unyielding rhythm.

The sounds of their movements filled the room—the soft slap of skin against skin, the creak of the floor beneath them, and the unrestrained moans that spilled from Y/N's lips. His hands braced against Nate's thighs, his nails digging into the firm muscle as he tried to ground himself against the overwhelming sensations.

"Look at you," Nate murmured, his voice low and husky, the words brushing hot against Y/N's ear. "Completely falling apart for me."

Y/N shuddered at the sound, his body arching further into Nate's chest as another wave of pleasure coursed through him. "N-Nate..." he gasped, his voice trembling, though whether it was from exertion or raw emotion, even he wasn't sure.

Nate chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against Y/N's back as he leaned closer, his lips grazing the shell of Y/N's ear. "You feel so fucking good," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "You're perfect like this. Taking everything I give you."

Y/N let out a soft, breathless moan, his head falling back against Nate's shoulder. The angle exposed the curve of his neck, and Nate didn't waste the opportunity. His lips trailed along Y/N's throat, leaving a path of heated kisses that made Y/N's body tremble.

"Can't get enough of you," Nate murmured, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just beneath Y/N's jaw. His hand on Y/N's neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind him who was in control. "The way you move, the way you sound... it's all mine."

The possessiveness in Nate's voice sent a shiver down Y/N's spine, his body responding instinctively as he arched even further, pressing himself closer to Nate. His legs trembled, the relentless thrust of Nate's hips pushing him closer to the edge with every movement.

"Nate, I—" Y/N tried to speak, but the words dissolved into another moan, his voice cracking as the intensity of the moment overwhelmed him.

"That's it," Nate growled, his grip on Y/N's hip tightening as he adjusted his angle slightly, hitting a spot that made Y/N cry out. "Let me hear you. Don't hold back."

Y/N didn't. His moans grew louder, more desperate, his hands clawing at Nate's thighs as he tilted his head back to meet Nate's gaze. The raw hunger in Nate's eyes was almost too much to bear, but Y/N couldn't look away.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Nate whispered, his voice softening just slightly as his hand slid from Y/N's neck to cradle the side of his face. His thumb brushed over Y/N's cheek as he leaned in, pressing a hot, lingering kiss to the corner of Y/N's mouth.

The combination of Nate's words, his touch, and the overwhelming sensation of their bodies moving together was too much. Y/N let out a choked gasp, his body tensing as he felt himself hurtling toward the edge, completely consumed by the moment.

The intensity between them reached its breaking point as Y/N's body trembled uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure coursing through him. His breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession as his back arched against Nate's chest. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, the sensation building to an almost unbearable peak.

"Nate," Y/N gasped, his voice shaky and broken as his hands scrambled for purchase on Nate's thighs. His entire body tensed, his moans growing louder and more desperate until he finally reached his climax. A choked cry escaped his lips as he released, his hot stream spilling onto his stomach in shuddering waves.

Nate's breath hitched, his own body responding to the sight and feel of Y/N unraveling in his arms. His grip on Y/N's hips tightened briefly before his hand moved, his fingers curling firmly around Y/N's dick.

"You're a fucking vision," Nate muttered, his voice rough with awe and desire as he began to stroke Y/N with deliberate care, his pace slow but firm. Y/N whimpered at the overstimulation, his body trembling even more as Nate's movements sent aftershocks of pleasure rippling through him.

Nate leaned forward, his breath warm against Y/N's neck as he whispered, "Let me take care of you."

Without waiting for a response, Nate's hand slowed, his thumb brushing over the sensitive head of Y/N's length. The slickness of Y/N's release made every movement fluid, and Nate's other hand slid along Y/N's chest, pulling him closer against his broad frame.

Y/N let out a soft whimper, his head falling back against Nate's shoulder as he felt the heat of Nate's lips ghost against his ear. "Nate—" he started, his voice weak and trembling.

"Shh," Nate murmured, his tone softer now, almost reverent. He shifted slightly, guiding Y/N's release onto his fingers before lifting his hand.

The moment Y/N registered what Nate was about to do, his eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing even deeper. But before he could say anything, Nate brought his hand to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick warmth.

The act was slow and deliberate, Nate's gaze locked onto Y/N's as he licked the cum from his fingers, his expression a mix of cocky satisfaction and something more intimate. "Sweet," Nate murmured, his voice low and teasing as he let his tongue trail along his fingers again, savoring the taste.

Y/N's breath caught in his throat, his body trembling anew at the sight. "You're insane," he managed to whisper, though his voice lacked any real conviction.

Nate smirked, his free hand sliding up to cradle Y/N's jaw, tilting his face slightly to meet his gaze. "And you love it," he replied, his tone filled with quiet confidence as he leaned in, brushing his lips softly against Y/N's.

The kiss was brief but searing, the taste of Y/N's release lingering faintly on Nate's lips as he pulled back just enough to whisper, "I could do this all night."

Y/N shivered at the promise in Nate's voice, his hands clutching at Nate's thighs for stability as the tension between them simmered, the moment charged with the unspoken acknowledgment of how deeply they were losing themselves in each other.

A movement between them was deliberate, every touch igniting sparks that only seemed to grow brighter and hotter. Nate's hands moved with practiced care as he guided Y/N down, his strong grip on Y/N's hips firm but not rough.

"Trust me," Nate murmured, his voice low and breathy, sending a shiver down Y/N's spine.

Y/N obeyed, his body sinking forward until his hands pressed against the floor, his knees steady beneath him. His back arched instinctively, the position making him hyperaware of every point of contact between them. He felt Nate's hands slide along his waist, thumbs pressing into the dip of his back, grounding him as he shifted into place.

"Perfect," Nate whispered, his tone husky with desire. The word carried a weight that made Y/N's cheeks flush, though there was no time to linger on it as Nate adjusted behind him.

Nate started slowly, the deliberate press of his hips almost agonizing as he slid into Y/N with a precision that left them both breathless. Y/N let out a soft moan, his fingers curling against the floor as Nate filled him completely.

The initial pace was slow, almost teasing, Nate's movements fluid and rhythmic. His hands gripped Y/N's waist, pulling him back to meet each thrust with a control that spoke volumes about his strength and focus. Y/N couldn't help the soft, broken sounds that spilled from his lips, his body arching further into the sensation.

"Nate," Y/N gasped, his voice trembling as the pleasure built steadily, his breaths coming in short, desperate bursts.

Hearing Y/N say his name like that sent a jolt of raw need through Nate's chest. His grip on Y/N's waist tightened, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he adjusted his angle slightly. The next thrust drew a sharp cry from Y/N, his back bowing even more as the intensity surged.

"Found it," Nate muttered, his voice low and smug, though there was an edge of breathlessness that betrayed how much control he was losing.

Y/N turned his head slightly, trying to glare over his shoulder, but the expression faltered as another deep thrust sent a wave of pleasure crashing through him. "Cocky," Y/N managed to mutter, though the word dissolved into a moan.

Nate chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating in his chest as he leaned forward slightly, his hands moving to grip Y/N's hips even tighter. "You're not complaining," he countered, his voice rough and dripping with satisfaction.

And then he sped up.

The deliberate rhythm gave way to something faster, more primal, Nate's hips snapping forward with a force that made Y/N cry out. Each thrust was perfectly angled, driving deeper and harder, leaving Y/N gasping and trembling beneath him. The desk creaked faintly from the impact of their movements, though neither paid it any attention.

"You're incredible," Nate murmured, his voice raw with emotion as he leaned over Y/N, his chest brushing against Y/N's back. His lips found the curve of Y/N's shoulder, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his skin.

Y/N whimpered at the contact, his body shuddering as the combination of Nate's thrusts and his touch sent him spiraling closer to the edge again. "Nate, I—" Y/N tried to speak, but the words dissolved into a moan as Nate's pace quickened again, leaving him no room to think.

"Let go," Nate whispered, his voice rough but tender as his hands slid up Y/N's sides, pulling him even closer. "I've got you."

The room felt like it was on fire, the heat between them radiating out in waves that blurred the edges of reality. Nate's movements, once driven by relentless urgency, now grew more deliberate, each thrust a mix of passion and control as the tension in his body built to its breaking point. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving with each motion as sweat dripped down his temple, mingling with the heat of Y/N's skin beneath him.

Y/N's moans had grown softer, more breathless, as his body trembled under Nate's touch. His hands clawed weakly at the floor, his strength fading, though the intensity in his voice never wavered. Every movement sent a shudder through him, every deep, precise thrust drawing him closer to the edge of blissful exhaustion.

Nate's grip on Y/N's hips tightened, his fingers pressing firmly into the slick skin as his pace began to stutter. His usually confident exterior had all but crumbled, his voice raw and husky as he groaned Y/N's name, the sound muffled against Y/N's shoulder.

"Y/N... I'm—" Nate's voice cracked, and the tremor in his words betrayed just how close he was.

Y/N barely had the energy to respond, his own body trembling with the aftermath of his release, but he managed a soft, encouraging sound that sent Nate tumbling over the edge.

With one final thrust, Nate buried himself deep inside Y/N, his hips pressing firmly against him as he let out a low, guttural groan. His body tensed, every muscle locking up as he released his hot seed in a series of sharp, shuddering waves. The warmth spread between them, the sensation drawing a soft whimper from Y/N, whose body instinctively arched into Nate's.

For a moment, neither of them moved, their bodies frozen in the overwhelming intensity of the moment. Nate's forehead rested against Y/N's back, his breaths ragged and uneven as he tried to recover. His hands, still gripping Y/N's waist, softened their hold, his fingers brushing over the flushed skin in a gesture that felt almost apologetic.

As the high began to ebb, Nate let out a shaky exhale, his hips moving in a slow, languid rhythm as he rode out the last of his release. Each movement was softer, more deliberate, as if he were reluctant to let go of the connection they'd shared.

"Y/N," Nate murmured, his voice quieter now, the arrogance replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

Y/N hummed weakly in response, his body too spent to move but still leaning into Nate's every touch.

Eventually, Nate stilled completely, his hands sliding from Y/N's waist as he slowly pulled out, careful not to disturb Y/N too much. The loss of contact drew a soft, involuntary whimper from Y/N, who shifted slightly, his body collapsing onto the floor with a quiet thud.

Y/N rolled onto his side, his body curling slightly as his chest heaved, trying to catch his breath. His eyes fluttered closed, the exhaustion pulling at him like a weight. His skin was slick with sweat, the heat of the moment still lingering, but he felt a faint sense of relief as the intensity gave way to a calm stillness.

Nate let himself fall back onto the floor beside Y/N, his arms sprawled out as he stared up at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath, his face flushed and damp with sweat. For a while, neither of them said anything, the silence filled only by the sound of their breathing.

As the seconds stretched into minutes, Nate turned his head slightly to glance at Y/N, who was still lying on his side, his face half-hidden by the crook of his arm. A faint smile tugged at the corner of Nate's lips as he let out a quiet chuckle, his voice rough and low.

"Well," Nate said finally, his tone laced with dry humor as he ran a hand through his damp hair. "That was... something."

Y/N let out a weak laugh, though it was more of a breathy exhale as he cracked one eye open to look at Nate. "You're... so full of yourself," he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone, only a quiet amusement.

Nate smirked, shifting slightly so he could rest an arm behind his head. "You didn't seem to mind," he shot back, his voice carrying the faintest edge of cockiness.

Y/N rolled his eyes, though the small smile on his face betrayed him. He shifted again, curling up more comfortably on his side as his breathing finally began to steady.

"Well," Y/N drawled, his voice laced with teasing amusement as he propped himself up on one elbow, his hair a mess and his cheeks still flushed. "That was... decent."

Nate turned his head, arching an eyebrow at Y/N, his lips curling into a smirk. "Decent?" he echoed, his voice low and rough, still tinged with the aftermath of their exertion.

Y/N nodded, the playful grin on his face widening as he stretched languidly, clearly putting on a show. "Yeah, you know. Solid effort. Maybe a little... predictable," he teased, his tone light but dripping with mock arrogance.

Nate let out a quiet laugh, his smirk deepening as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, his sharp eyes locking onto Y/N's. "Predictable, huh?" he repeated, his voice carrying a dangerous edge of amusement.

Y/N shrugged, biting back a grin. "I mean, I've had better," he said with a casual wave of his hand, though the twitch of his lips betrayed the lie.

"Oh, is that right?" Nate asked, sitting up fully now, his body still radiating a quiet confidence. His smirk grew, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer to Y/N. "Because I seem to remember you being pretty quiet a few minutes ago."

Y/N's grin faltered just slightly, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink as he quickly tried to recover. "Quiet? I don't—"

"Yeah," Nate interrupted smoothly, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he moved closer, his face just inches from Y/N's. "You were quiet. Except for when you were moaning my name like a prayer."

Y/N's mouth opened to retort, but no words came out, his brain temporarily short-circuiting at Nate's words.

Nate tilted his head, his smirk growing even cockier as he leaned back, clearly relishing Y/N's stunned expression. "What was it you kept saying?" Nate mused, pretending to think as he rubbed his chin mockingly. "Oh, right. 'Nate, don't stop. Please, Nate.' Sound familiar?"

Y/N's jaw dropped, his face burning as he shoved Nate's shoulder in mock outrage. "You're such a jerk!"

Nate laughed, catching Y/N's wrist easily before pulling him closer, his smirk softening into something more affectionate. "Don't get mad, Y/N," he teased, his voice warm and playful. "You just made it too easy. And honestly..." He leaned in, his lips brushing against Y/N's ear as he whispered, "I liked hearing you say my name like that."

Y/N shivered at the words, his indignation faltering as he felt Nate's breath against his skin. "You're a dick," he muttered, though his voice had lost its bite, and the way his body relaxed against Nate's betrayed how much the teasing didn't bother him.

Nate chuckled, pulling back just enough to meet Y/N's gaze. "And you're adorable when you're flustered," he said, his tone soft but still carrying that teasing edge.

Y/N huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried to glare at Nate, though the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips ruined the effect. "I hate you," he said, though the words lacked any real venom.

"Sure you do," Nate replied, his smirk returning as he leaned back onto his hands, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

The room settled into a comfortable silence, the teasing fading into soft smiles and shared glances. And though neither of them said it, there was an unspoken understanding between them—a recognition of the connection they had just shared, one that went far beyond words or playful banter.

The first light of dawn filtered through the dormitory window, casting soft golden hues over the room. The space, usually cluttered with books, clothes, and the remnants of late-night study sessions, felt oddly serene. The air was still, save for the faint sounds of Y/N's soft, even breathing as he lay nestled against Nate's chest.

Nate was wide awake. He'd woken an hour earlier, his body naturally attuned to early football practices, but he hadn't moved. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, his arm draped protectively over Y/N's waist, holding him close as if afraid he might disappear.

Y/N's face was partially buried in the pillow, his hair messy and his lips slightly parted. There was a peacefulness about him, a vulnerability Nate wasn't used to seeing but found himself captivated by. His usual sharp tongue and quick comebacks were absent, replaced by the quiet rise and fall of his chest.

Nate couldn't tear his eyes away.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn't thinking about the pressure of his football career or the expectations placed on him by his family. His mind was entirely consumed by Y/N—by the softness of his features, the warmth of his skin against Nate's, and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

It was strange, this feeling. Foreign, yet not unwelcome. Nate had never been the type to dwell on emotions or let himself get caught up in things he couldn't control, but lying here with Y/N felt... different.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he thought back to the night before—the way Y/N had teased him, the way he'd surrendered to Nate's touch, and the way he'd said Nate's name in a voice that still sent shivers down his spine.

Mine, Nate thought, the word echoing in his mind with a possessiveness that surprised him. He hadn't just discovered something new about himself last night—he'd uncovered something he couldn't ignore.

He wanted Y/N. Not just in the fleeting, physical sense. He wanted more.

The thought should have scared him, but it didn't. Instead, it settled in his chest like a steady flame, warming him from the inside out.

As he studied Y/N's sleeping form, Nate's jaw tightened with determination. He didn't want to hide this—hide them. For the first time in his life, he didn't care what other people thought. His teammates, his friends, the judgmental whispers on campus—it didn't matter. He wanted people to know. He wanted them to see Y/N by his side and know that Y/N was his.

The thought made his chest swell, but it was quickly followed by a pang of doubt. He hadn't even talked to Y/N about what this was. What they were. He hadn't asked, hadn't clarified, hadn't dared to put a label on the feelings swirling inside him.

But then again, why would he? He wasn't the type to ask permission or seek validation. He'd always been the one to take what he wanted, and this felt no different.

Still, Nate thought, his gaze softening as he reached out to brush a strand of hair from Y/N's face. His fingers lingered for a moment, the touch light and reverent.

Y/N stirred slightly, letting out a small, sleepy hum as he shifted closer to Nate, his body instinctively seeking warmth. Nate couldn't help the quiet chuckle that escaped him, his hand moving to rest gently against Y/N's cheek.

"Sleep well, troublemaker," Nate murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't need to say the rest—the things he was still figuring out, the emotions that felt too big to put into words. For now, this was enough.

As the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, casting its light over the room, Nate let himself relax, holding Y/N close and silently vowing that no matter what, he wouldn't let this slip through his fingers.

[satoruxx]

THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 4.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: wolfhybrid!toji, hybrid au, flashback centric, grumpy x sunshine, animalistic behavior, mentions of injuries, violence, societal inequality, arguments, hateful speech towards hybrids, dysfunctional families, and a shit ton of angst and anger, lil fluff at the end !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: hiii it's my birthday this weekend so i'm dropping chapter 4 as a quick thank you for all the support !! i love you all so much <33 this one is very toji centric and gives a lot of his past and lore to explain why he is the way he is and what led him to find reader !! there is a lot of inequality in this chapter so keep that in mind as you proceed. as always i would recommend checking out the previous parts before reading this :33

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the smell of blood makes toji's eyes crack open. it fills his nostrils, heavy and metallic, and it makes his hair stand on end. despite being so used to that scent, it still makes him uneasy, because sometimes he cannot tell whose blood it is.

once his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he can't fall back asleep, though he knows he still needs rest. a series of cracks echo from his joints as he sits up, pulses of fatigue swimming through his muscles. pushing up from the ground, he casually approaches the metal bars of his cell.

his cage.

his nose twitches, the smell of blood stronger now that he's closer. a loud yawn rips from his throat, eyes catching some guards dragging another hybrid who had fought that day. he watches them throw the unconscious animal into his cell, not sparing another glance as they turn away. the sounds of their boots gets on toji's nerves, but he does not even have enough time to pity the poor creature.

another set of guards approach his cell. he's sure that they might once again tell him off for being too aggressive, or for not following orders, or for another whipping, but he's saved this time because they're just escorting a hybrid.

a familiar hybrid.

"what's wrong?" toji drawls, lips tugging into a casual smirk. "did y'lose?"

the tiger hybrid hisses angrily in return, as though personally offended, and bares his teeth. his striped ears starkly contrast his pinkish hair.

"like hell," sukuna answers proudly.

toji is about to comment on the various bloodied scratches littering sukuna's body, but one of the guards roughly shoves the tiger into his cell.

"get in!"

sukuna turns to pin him with a murderous glare, tone even and chilling. "touch me again and i'll kill you."

the guard scoffs, unbothered, before shutting the barred door behind him. sukuna's anger rises, but he does not say anything else, choosing to stare daggers at them until they've disappeared around the corner. toji understands the feeling. it would be a piece of cake to rip their throats out, especially for predators as vicious as wolves and tigers.

but they can't. one scratch on a human and they'd be put down.

a beat of silence passes. toji is sure the hybrid sitting across the hall is also thinking about the same thing, so used to biting his tongue just to stay alive.

(he remembers the first day sukuna got thrown in, hisses and snapping teeth as he cursed the guards with all sorts of creativity. toji had been underground long enough to see the same spectacle over and over again, and so he hadn't really given a damn at that time. the two passed weeks in silence, purely focused on their own individual fights and then immediately falling asleep once back in their respective cells.

toji was no expert at reading people, but he could tell that the tiger was as stubborn as he was—they refused to acknowledge one another.

and when they were finally pitted against each other, it was a messy fight. toji still remembers the way the crowd had roared at their aggressive attacks, every draw of blood eliciting some sick twisted pleasure within them.

toji had been used to putting in the bare minimum during his fights, finding it relatively easy to win against other predators. but that fight against sukuna was the first time he struggled a little bit.

the tiger will never admit it, but the feeling was definitely mutual.

so after the brawl, when they were both quietly sitting in their cages and hissing at their wounds stubbornly, there was a brief moment of acknowledgement.

"where the hell did you learn how to fight like that?" the tiger had eyed toji warily, thick brows furrowed in a way that made him look extra grumpy.

after that, it seemed that there was a mutual sense of respect between the two of them. they are not friends per se, definitely not. both toji and sukuna know that if it came down to it, they would kill the other in the arena if it meant staying alive.

but there was an understanding that they were both on the same level. and it seemed that those who ran the fights understood that too.

after all, fights between the two of them were always a very popular spectacle.)

even now, sukuna doesn't look at toji, too busy muttering a string of insults aimed at the guard from earlier. toji ignores them, used to it. they remain in that same silence, not uncomfortable, but not really comfortable either.

toji takes a seat, crossing his legs and leaning against the cold bars. he can still hear the sounds of the guards footsteps echoing through the halls, and that just makes him crave freedom—another familiar feeling.

he should be used to it by now. craving what he cannot have.

sukuna seems to know what he's thinking, because he scoffs with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "don't start."

"you don't ever think about running?" toji ponders, dragging his claws across the stone floor. the tiger's ears twitch, sensitive to the sound, and he throws toji a scathing scowl.

"run? where the hell would we go?" the tiger grumbles, crossing his bulky arms. "you know they'll just find us again. it's pointless."

"but it's happened before," toji insists, scratching behind his ear absentmindedly. there have always been whispers floating through the compound, of hybrids with guts of steel that took it upon themselves to make a run for it. though several were caught and devastatingly punished, there were those who they never saw again. the idea that they must be somewhere where light shines and wind blows is strangely comforting.

"yeah rarely," the tiger snorts in return. a quiet hiss of displeasure escapes his lips as he notices the claw marks running up his arm, and he carefully begins licking at his wounds. "most of the time those fools get caught. and then they get punished."

toji shrugs noncommittally, leaning his head against the bars. "worth the risk."

sukuna curiously peers at him from over his injured arm, heavy brows furrowed. "you really think it's that much better up there?"

"anywhere's better than in here." toji says it resolutely, and sukuna, normally so snippy, says nothing to rebuke him.

before the conversation can continue, toji's nostrils fill with a familiar scent—cigarettes, ironed clothes, faint whiskey. he suppresses a roll of his eyes.

"look who it is." he sarcastically cranes his neck, watching as shiu kong approaches his cell with a nonchalant smile.

"you sure do look relaxed for someone who just had me do a shit ton of paperwork." shiu leans against the wall, eyeing toji through the cell. toji does not like that he has to look up to meet his gaze, so he gets to his feet and casually crosses his arms.

"what the fuck did i do?"

"lots of people enjoyed your fight yesterday. with the polar bear?" shiu pulls out a cigarette, and toji's nose crinkles. "you've got an increase in bets, y'know?"

"who cares?" toji mutters, pushing away from the bars to pace around his cell.

it's not like any of the hybrids get that money.

"i do," shiu chuckles, cigarette balanced between his lips. "you're helping me get paid."

"lucky you," toji sarcastically shoots back. shiu snorts in amusement, crossing his arms.

"anyways, i'm thinking this is a good time to host a big fight for you. the timing is good." toji's "manager" (if that's what you can call him) eyes the wolf as he exhales a puff of smoke. toji's eyes narrow in return, a feeling of anticipation and mild irritation crawling up his skin.

"so you two—" shiu nods his head towards the wolf and the grumpy tiger sitting across the hall. "—prepare for a show, alright?"

sukuna curses colorfully, and toji rolls his eyes. "relax. i'm not giddy to fight you either, asshole."

"yeah because you'll lose," the tiger hisses, baring his teeth.

"oh yeah? that's not what happened last time." toji grins wolfishly, watching sukuna's anger rise.

"because you fucking cheated!"

"aw, little cat can't handle a few bites?" toji's amusement becomes more palpable, enjoying the argument—a very common occurrence for the two of them. "that's why dogs are better."

"i'll kill you," sukuna utters ominously, his striped tail puffed and curling in an aggressively defensive display.

"try it," toji smirks back.

"alright easy boys," shiu chuckles, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "save that energy for the actual fight. people eat that shit up."

"and somehow we're the animals," sukuna grumbles, deciding he's done with the conversation as he heads over to the corner of his cell and curls up on the ground.

"well yeah," shiu shrugs, unfazed. "you should be used to that by now."

they are.

"anyway i figured i'd let you know." the older man turns to face toji. "i know most of the fights are pretty easy for you. but since you both are top tier fighters, prepare how you need to."

"it's not like we've never fought before," toji replies dryly, ears twitching. "i know how it goes down."

"well okay." shiu adjusts his suit jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets.

from the corner of his eye, toji can see sukuna listening in, face impassive.

"you two give me a good show, alright?" shiu casually waves over his shoulder, before heading off back in the direction he came.

"whatever," sukuna grunts, turning on his side. toji watches the tiger's tail lazily flick—side to side. "i hate dogs."

toji lets out a dry chuckle. "well i'm not the biggest fan of cats either, asshole."

again, they aren't friends, but the bleakness of their situation makes it easier to tolerate one another.

a week later, they both face off in the area as promised. shiu claps toji on the back before he heads in, a gesture that makes the wolf's skin prickle, but he brushes it off. he could have someone worse be in charge of him, but shiu is a bit easier to get along with than most of the humans down there. though toji isn't naive—the only reason shiu is so casually cheery around him is because toji is his biggest moneymaker.

that's what it all came down to.

sukuna and toji have both fought enough times to know how to play to the crowd's wishes. they bark and snarl at each other like they are truly wild, claws and teeth and blood everywhere because they know that's what gets the humans going.

that's what gets them to open their wallets at least.

sukuna takes the victory this time around, which is not inherently unusual—they both have a fairly even split of victories and losses. they play up their enmity, and everyone goes wild.

even though hybrids are the shackled ones, somehow these humans remind toji of puppets—so easily manipulated.

the two of them stand and rile up the crowd at the end, acting like they truly are nothing but feral animals who know only to growl and snap at each other. as soon as they hear the sounds of money being exchanged and the roar of conversation they are escorted back to their cells.

toji's ears ring with the sounds of groans and cheers, the same familiar words grating his ears.

"i told you sukuna would win this one!"

"yeah but i said toji would draw first blood, so pay up!"

imbeciles. savages. nothing humane about them.

in their cells, both of them do their best to clean up their wounds. but a fight this aggressive usually results in equally rough damage.

"i think you fractured my rib or something," toji grunts, wincing as he sits down. sukuna throws him an unimpressed look through the bars of his cage.

"not my fault you're weak."

toji's middle finger flies up automatically, and sukuna's lips pull up to one side. "ask them for medical if it's that bad."

"yeah right," toji snorts, licking away the blood that has been dripping from the corner of his mouth. "like they'll listen."

it's more of a curse that hybrids have a better pain tolerance than humans. the medics here never take their injuries seriously for that exact reason.

no instead, they are expected to clean up as they can and prepare for the next fight, letting their body heal as well as possible. humans have always been so hypocritical.

they both relax in a welcome silence. toji suddenly realizes how tired he is, jade eyes straining as he attempts to fix himself up. he knows the rules—damaged merchandise is treated as such.

his ears pick up the faint sound of footsteps approaching, and he realizes that it's probably shiu coming over to update them about the earnings of their fights.

but he is entirely surprised.

"wow, you're definitely a sight."

toji's eyes narrow, teeth gritting. his mood plummets, ears straightening and tail going rigid. the sound of that voice makes every bit of hatred in toji's body come bubbling to the surface. he glares over his shoulder, spitting out each word with extreme difficulty. "what the fuck do you want?"

naoya zenin looks down his nose at the wolf, a greasy smile on his face. naobito zenin stands just behind him, arms crossed with a barely visible look of disgust on his face.

toji's cousin conveniently ignores the accusatory question, peering around the cells and hallway with feigned interest. "these conditions are terrible!"

he finally pins toji with his gaze, an evil smile pulling at his lips. "well, that's to be expected for animals."

"what the fuck do you want?!" toji growls, claws digging into the ground. naoya's eyes light up at the anger, knowing full well that those claws can never come anywhere near him.

"temper! temper!" the blonde gasps, tutting at toji like he's nothing more than a child. "haven't you learned how to control yourself by now?"

"let me out of this cell and i'll show you just how much control i have." the wolf's voice is no more than a rumble, dark and ominous because there is nothing in the world that toji hates more than his own family.

naoya shakes his head, feigning a look of disappointment. "so violent. it's a good thing we put you in here. who knows how dangerous you could've been to us."

the words hit their mark, a jab of self-hatred. toji's green eyes flit over to his uncle, sharp and accusatory.

the one who ratted him out to this godforsaken place.

toji knows when normal families have a predator hybrid born into their home, they lie and cheat and hide them away from this life—too desperate to keep their child away from such danger. after all, it's not the child's fault they were born a predator.

but not toji's family. not the zenins, who took one look at him and waited for the second he turned 18 before hauling him off.

nothing but a bunch of rats.

he knows that he was worth a lot of money. a healthy and fit wolf hybrid, broader and stronger than most of his own species. and of course, his family was quick to sell him off, glad to be rid of this curse on their family—the only shame.

toji had grown up knowing he was hated, but he never thought a family could do something so horrible to one of their own. he stopped seeing the best in people after that.

"you brought this on yourself," his uncle states now, emotionless. his opinion on hybrids has not changed one bit, and yet he shamelessly comes to the compound to collect a portion of the winnings that toji earns. "born with tainted blood."

"you're acting like it's my fucking fault, old man," toji spits out, hackles raised. he wants them to leave, because all he feels when looking at them is nausea.

"it's your damn mother's fault. couldn't keep away from my brother. she ruined him," naobito's emotionless voice takes on a tone of hatred, and toji tenses. "filthy dog whore."

toji's reaction is instantaneous. he's at the bars in a second, teeth bared and spewing curses as he makes a mad grab for either of them. he doesn't care—all he wants to do is tear them to shreds. toji can feel his wounds open further, can feel blood dripping over his skin, but all that seems miniscule when they are in front of him.

the cause of every single misfortune he has ever had.

naoya hops out of the way, laughing—it is a mocking, grating laugh that echoes throughout the hall as he watches toji desperately struggle. "see see! this is why you're dangerous!"

naobito shakes his head, as though he's thoroughly disappointed, but he does not say anything else.

"anyways, well done today!" naoya continues, grinning as he crosses his arms. "you earned a lot of money for us."

toji glares at him, dropping his arm and taking a step back. somehow, being further in his cell is much more comforting than being in their line of sight. he keeps his lips tightly shut.

naoya's voice turns taunting as naobito heads off without another word. "such a shame my dear cousin wasn't born normal like the rest of us." he follows his father without a care in the world, knowing how well his words sting. "had to be born an animal freak."

the hallways is empty. toji takes a few steadying breaths, pushing the anger away because he knows that there is truly no point in keeping it. it's not like this anger has done him any good. maybe if he had gotten angry earlier, he would have zenin blood on his hands—the thought gives him a sick sense of satisfaction.

"your family fucking sucks…" sukuna pipes up from across the hall. toji scoffs out a laugh, but it is far from amused. he turns away.

suddenly the blood on his hands makes him feel disgusting—so much more animalistic than human.

"tell me about it," he mutters, back turned. his ears pick up the sounds of sukuna curling up in his corner, and in a few minutes, quiet rumbling snores follow.

toji sighs, approaching his sink and staring at the cracked mirror he's grown used to seeing himself in. he takes in his reflection, disgust rolling in his stomach.

he thinks he'd probably be considered decently attractive if he was a regular old human. but the dark furry ears, the sharp canines, and all the scars ruin him. adding his haggard clothing and feral eyes and all the blood and dirt on him, he can understand why he is considered so untouchable.

an animal in every right.

he turns the sink on. he is briefly reminded of another time, a time where he lived in a family house and slept in a futon that was warmer than anything he's ever slept in. he can remember wearing things other than rags, occasionally a yukata and other times a t-shirt. he can remember eating a home cooked meal and drinking sake and feeling sunlight on his skin.

and yet even in those better times, he has always had to hear the words of his family cursing his existence. cursing his mother's name for seducing his father and ruining their bloodline with her animal blood.

the only dark stain on the pristine zenin family.

toji sighs, scrubbing the blood from under his claws—like clockwork. the water in the sink turns a mocking shade of pink, and as horrible as it is to say, toji is glad the blood is not his.

he wipes his paws across his ragged clothes, and stares at himself in the mirror.

he isn't ashamed to admit it—but he hates what he sees.

naoya's laughter rings in his ears as he shuts his eyes.

"hey toji?"

his eyes snap open. when the haze clears he sees your features come into focus, soft and curious. your scent floods his nose, and a pleasant shiver runs up his skin. there is a quick sense of relief when he realizes that he had been dreaming of a time in the past, and he steels himself, expression indifferent as he sits up. he briefly recognizes the stark contrast between the hardness of the stone floor in his cell and the softness of your couch—his tongue sits heavy in his mouth.

"what?" he grunts, rubbing at his eyes. he tries to throw you a mock irritated glance, but either it comes off too mild or you've become good at ignoring it. "when'd you get here?"

"a few minutes ago. i got takeout." your lips pull into a teasing smile. "unless you'd rather go back to sleep?"

he pins you with a scathing glare, and annoyingly enough, your smile becomes wider. he stands up, popping his joints and following you to your kitchen table, before diligently taking a seat—in his chair.

toji silently watches you bustle around, grabbing utensils and plates to evenly distribute the food. his stomach growls eagerly, and he realizes just how hungry he is—he recognizes that his body is getting used to being fed so often, and he does not know how to feel about that.

toji's eyes zero in on silly details, not knowing why he does it. your hair is a little messy, not as neat as when you left for work that morning. you've taken off your jacket, the absence of the restrictive fabric making your movements easier. he thinks you've probably had a good day, because your expression, though fatigued, is still relaxed—a small, almost miniscule smile remains on your face.

there a strange satisfaction the settles in his chest when he notices that. he doesn't know why, but the idea that you've had a nice day rather than a difficult one puts him at ease.

"how was your day?" you speak up, briefly making eye contact with him.

(toji does not understand why the small contact makes his stomach flip.)

he grunts, nonchalant. "not bad. didn't do much."

"the injuries are good?"

toji rolls his eyes, dropping his chin into his palm as he pins you with an intrusive stare. "yeah yeah. you ask this every day."

"well it can be good one day and not good the next," you reply defensively, frowning at the chicken you're currently dropping into his plate. but you look satisfied to hear his answer.

toji chuckles mutely. "sure kid."

(the nickname came randomly. you never commented on it. he didn't either.)

he hesitates for a second, before clearing his throat. "how was yours?"

you glance up at him, too quick for him to analyze the expression, but he thinks he catches a faint trace of pleasant surprise. "it was good. boring but not bad at all."

he nods awkwardly—the internal satisfaction grows stronger. his stomach rumbles again as you walk over and place his plate in front of him, and the smell hits his nose immediately—his hunger is all consuming.

(your scent is one of the few human scents he has truly found pleasant.)

and yet he finds himself patiently waiting until you plate your own food, sitting across him quietly. he presses his hands together, bowing his head as he mutters a quiet "thank you for the food" before tucking in.

(he does not say your name, but he thinks he is thanking you—his own twisted version of a god.)

he stays quiet for most of the meal, focusing on the unique and savory taste of the food. months ago he would not have imagined being able to consume such delicacy, but all you have done since you walked into his life is show him that he can have much more than he ever dreamed he could.

you blabber about random things as you eat, telling him about something you saw or what you did throughout the day. he listens.

you're in the middle of updating him about some stupid work drama, which, as embarrassing as it is to say, toji has been looking forward to hearing about. he does not interrupt you, trying to rack his brain for all the details you've spilled the last time.

(it's pathetic how quick he finds them. something about listening to you talk that makes everything else seem useless in comparison.)

"so anyways her husband found out and got mad. but then she basically tried to deny it and said that he was accusing her of nothing." you shove a mouthful of rice into your mouth, rolling your eyes. your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips—toji's eyes shamefully trace the movement. "it's a whole thing now because obviously the dude she was having the affair with works with us too."

"what a bitch," toji answers. your eyes crinkle with amusement, eager to hear him participating. you've probably since realized that he does find your gossip interesting. but it's more than that—he does not know why it's so easy to talk to you.

"right? i hate cheaters," you mutter, stabbing at your chicken.

he does too. something about being a dog that makes loyalty so damn important to him.

(maybe that's why he feels physically ill when he thinks about leaving your side.)

you continue rambling about your cheating coworker with a newfound conviction. toji listens, occasionally dropping a dry remark, and you either laugh or nod emphatically. his lips quirk upward at every reaction. he continues eating his food—slowly so that he can match your pace. which is odd, because he was so damn hungry before.

but even as he quietly chews on the flavored meat, he finds that satiety comes a lot quicker when he quietly listens to you talk.

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