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bacchicly · 10 months ago

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A few imperfect thoughts about writing fat characters respectfully

By me :

A short (5'2"), fat (approx 300 pounds), middle aged (turning 42 thank god), married to not a fat man, mother of a pre-teen, white, CIS, Anglo, Canadian, upper-middle class woman who writes fic (including smut) about a character who is fat by TV and Hollywood standards (Penelope Garcia)

Note: fat hate or debates about whether being fat is healthy or not will not be tolerated on this post. That is not what this post is about. This is about giving some insight into what writers may want to consider when trying to respectfully include more fat characters in their work and generally moving towards writing doing less harm to fat people.

This post started with me wanting to respond to someone honnestly asking "how do I write good descriptions of fat people" because they wanted to write more fat characters and write them authentically (and I assume in a way that would be respectful to fat people) which is an awesome! ...Or maybe it started a few months ago when a writer friend asked about whether a fat character in a fic borrowing a shirt or hoody from her fit boyfriend made sense. ...Or maybe it started way back when I started writing my first fan fic featuring Penelope Garcia partly in response to being irritated about how so many writers wrote her as a young woman and were often silent on her size or spent a lot of time on her insecurities about her body... anyhoo that's where I come from... doesn't make me an expert except maybe on my own unique experience with a fat body...rather more a fellow muddler / fat character writer enthusiast.

THE BASICS

This first part is a quick list of basics you'll read in other posts about writing characters in general - but we'd better get them out of the way because they apply:

Every character is unique and they way they act and think and feel tends to be a product of some mix of what they look like, how their body works or doesn't, how their brain works and doesn't, their "personality", what they were taught, their unique experiences, and the situation/society they are currently in. There are patterns (which is why we get tropes) but the fun thing is that small things can make big differences. So to write an authentic character, it helps to have a fairly clear sense of at least some of those elements and do some imagining about how all of that would funnel into the moment your writing.

The amount to which you describe character bodies and the style which you use to describe them tends to depend on genre, what the heck is going on in your story, the pov you're writing from, the reason you're writing etc. So their are no hard or fast rules. There may be norms for certain styles of fiction, but then it's up to you to decide if it's stronger for you to lean into those norms or to write "against" them at a particular moment.

In order to be more respectful and less harmful to fat people (especially if you see value in actively challenging the anti-fat status quo), you may have to change how you describe all bodies in your work, as well the attitudes both fat people and non fat people have about bodies in general.

Now that that's out of the way... let's get specifically to my thoughts on writing fat characters. I'm going to divide this part into tips for DESCRIBING FAT BODIES, FAT BODIES IN SPACE, and THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

TIPS FOR DESCRIBING FAT (OR OTHER) BODIES

I would say that both consistency and diversity across the work is important, by this I mean :

Consistently describe bodies in about the same amount of detail across your work for the same type of character regardless of body type. So protagonists should get about the same depth and breath of body descriptions as each other regardless of body type. Same goes for vilalns, supporting characters etc. Sometimes people are mute about the look and shape of "strait sized" character bodies (because what's to describe - they are just "normal") but then spend a bunch of time on "other sized" bodies or vice versa (in this case, the fat body is erased usually because of some form of internalised fat hate or phobia paired with "if you can't say anything nice" don't say anything at all.) If you're doing either of these things, I'm not saying it's wrong and has to be fixed- I'm just saying it's a flag that you may want to think about why you are writing differently about different body types and what your work is saying about what bodies have value and which don't.

Diversity Bodies in the real world come in a lot of different shapes and sizes (I know I know obvious woman strikes again) but if you are writing stories with fairly large casts and everyone has the same body type - there better be a good reason for it within the narrative. Truthfully there are cases where this does make sense to some degree... if you're writing about a group where there are physical requirements and standards for the folks in that world (ballet dancers, fire fighters, cops, soldiers, fbi agents) there may or may not be less diversity in body type and more homogeneous attitudes to body norms within the group - and certainly those who are outside of the norm may be commented on or feel like they are "other". But if you are in a more free setting - if you write without a diversity of body types - especially in settings where there is diversity - that is probably a clue that you're not thinking enough about what your various characters look like and may be "normalizing" one type of body over others. Similarly, if you are writing about a real time and place where there is evidence that there were fat bodies and you have none...that's another flag to ask yourself why.

The magical tools in your toolkit for describing fat and other bodies: Body neutrality and POV

Body neutrality is about not loving bodies and not hating bodies just accepting bodies as they are....or in this case describing them as they are. No poetic language. No judgement. Just this is what this character looks like. If you're struggling to do this, I suggest doing a body map for at least two characters with different body types - possibly one that you find easy to think of positively (in this case likely someone thin or at least fit) and one that you find more difficult to describe positively (in this case someone fat).

Describe them head to toe, naked and then clothed, in detail - acurately but not poetically. Start with their feet and then work up bit by bit. Pay attention to things like hair, scars, shape of joints, acne, tightness or looseness of skin, colour of skin, nails, fat, lack of fat, muscle tone, where do they hold their stress, what's in the bowels, how well they do or don't work, do they have their appendix, what they ate last, proportions (is their torso long or short compared to their legs), lungs - how much do they hold, are they healthy? - now describe their throat, shoulders, hands, hair, then end with face.

The only rule is no positive or negative connotations to anything. it's neither good nor bad that they have stretch marks - they just do and they have faded to silver. Now that you "see them' clearly - now look at them through the eyes of someone who loves them in a familial way...what do they see most? what words do they use? now through someone who is attracted to them sexually and love them and aren't ashamed...what do they see most? what words do they use? Now through the eyes of someone who hates them or wants to change them? or a child? or a dog? Now... how does your character feel about these descriptions? Now you have a variety of words you can draw on to describe the body and you also should have a fairly good idea of what is a more skewed view of the body and a more realistic view.

Also...it can be helpful to remember there are no consistently good or bad words to describe bodies - it depends on context and who is using the words. It's a lot like how sick can be used to describe something negatively or positively depending on the agreed upon meaning of the word by a group.

DESCRIBING BODIES IN SPACE/MOTION

Ok here's the thing - for every activity you can think of - there is a fat body that does it well and a fat body that can't do it easily or at all and there are a lot of reasons for both. Often it has to do with the fact that a lot of equipment is built for people who are 250lbs or less; and anything for bigger people tends to cost a premium. Also, if it's not an easy new skill to acquire with the body you've got...it may take longer and more bravery to keep pushing through to achieve mastery. People may try to discourage you from pursuing things. Sometimes out of prejudice, sometimes out of impatience, sometimes out of caring.

So deciding what your character's body can do easily and what it can't and why is more important than me giving you a list of words for how to describe fat movements.

My suggestion is: do your research. What sorts of body types have done the activity in the real world? What are the exceptions? What changes? So for example if a fat person is climbing a mountain - do they need more help? Different equipment? A different route?

Things to consider:

- equipment / things that can have weight limits: bunk beds, roller coasters, scooters, waterslides, camping chairs, elevators, trampolines, some bikes, life jackets (finding one that fit was a nightmare), exercise balls, airline seats (learning to ask for the seatbelt extender without second thought or shame was a lifesaver)

- not all fat people have pain, those who do will move taking into account the specifics of the pain - same as a lean person

- when I was pregnant I just got more cylindrical and did not get a classic belly. I moved well and easily all the way through my pregnancy, I had none of the back pain or ankle pain some people get. I stood for a lot of my labour. I gave birth on my hands and knees. Other fat people will have had different experiences of pregnancy...but that was mine.

- clothing can have a huge impact on what bounces or jiggles and what doesn't

- most (but not all) fat people I know are particularly sensitive to appearing sweaty or smelling bad

- how winded someone gets is not directly correlated to body size, neither is heart rate or breathing style; I have theatre training and grew up swimming - I breath very slowly and very deeply normally - so when I talk a slow deep breath...it is very slow and deep indeed. I have always been fat but can swim forever - I have always gotten winded and kind of dizzy running... Other fat people may be opposite.

- people do not "see fat" consistently. People regularly underestimate how fat I am (by 100+ pounds or many clothing sizes) because I am short, well spoken, proportioned in a way that is seen as fairly typical, and very mobile and very light on my feet. Someone who weighs less than me but is slower moving, dull witted, in a sour mood, is illl, or poorly dressed may be perceived as much heavier than than someone the same weight or heavier who is behaving/clothed differently (which can change how much fat hate someone experiences) and definately heavier than they are. Height also changes how people perceive weight.

- many stores still don't carry plus sized clothing, but eventually i sort of got used to it - although some days it makes me angry and other days sad

- chairs with arms or the occasional booth can be uncomfortable or just plain impossible to sit in, it's probably partly my ADHD but I often forget this until it happens; for taller and fatter people than me this can be a much more regular occurrence.

- once (if) a character figures out how to dress/move their body in a way that feels comfortable and meets general standards (or at least theirs) of respectability - they may not think that much about their body...or at least until something external draws attention to it

- I don't like feeling like I'm squishing people, so I will make myself small and still on buses or at the theatre, I also don't like sitting on laps or being lifted or carried.

- I often feel much taller than I actually am - except when I am standing right beside someone taller or am trying to reach something on a high shelf. The same principle applies - I feel larger next to smaller people and smaller next to larger ones.

- clothing and what I'm carrying also changes how I move (just like my lean counterparts)

- I don't lounge, my car seat is set almost straight but I sit further back than my brother in law who has a similar height and weight - he leans the seat back but pulls closer. I don't nap. My leaner husband both lounges and naps.

- some fat folks eat, walk, and move quickly - some slowly; figuring out which your character does, when they behave "out of character", and why these are their preferences will go a long way to creating an authentic feeling fat character

- acne is a thing and learning to accept ones rolls and tummy aprons (and thus take care of them properly) is a common challenge; although many do it naturally without thinking much of it. You lift your breasts and wash underneath - you lift you belly and wash underneath.

- fat bodies have the same reactions as everyone else: they tingle, burn, get numb, get goose bumps, like to be touched in certain places and in certain ways, feel the breeze, get hot, get cold, shiver, stretch, relax, get aroused, feel release, hold tension, feel capable and strong, feel weak...no matter who you are sitting in a chair that's too small for you will put pressure on your body and feel uncomfortable or safe ..you can explore what that is like. Sometimes it is a reassuring sensation. Sometimes it is uncomfortable. This is the same for fat bodies. It just may happen more frequently and depending on your character's context and experience the emotional reaction / thoughts that are generated may be a bit different.

THINKING AND FEELING IN A FAT BODY.

I think I touched on some of this in some of the earlier sections...but here I want to talk a bit about my experience of being fat and my thoughts about it - your fat characters may or may not feel similarly...but my hope is that you at least think about options as opposed to only writing one or two types of fat character.

I mainly "feel" fat in moments when it is pointed out to me or I am limited in what I can do because of it

I quite like my body, it is my home and I feel very connected to it's features. In my experience this is unusual for many people in North American society regardless of actual body shape or weight. Sometimes I feel guilty for not hating my body the way "I am supposed to" and wonder vaguely if my body would be different if I could hate it more (although as I get older I doubt it).

I do feel some pressure to be a cheerful "good" fat person as a way to stay safe and survive.

Nothing makes people more uncomfortable than me calling myself fat without judgement or asking for accomodation matter of factly. It took me a long time to feel comfortable doing so, but I do it now all the time and it makes my life better.

I felt some pressure to be the fun friend who people feel comfortable eating whatever they wanted with and I often felt like I was depended on to order dessert so they could too. This may have been all in my mind though.

Fat bellies can be very intimate places.

Not all fat people have dieted, but many have. I was lucky enough to never be forced into a diet. I did try keto once but it was a bit intense and nuts so I stopped. I learned a bunch doing it though.

Medical people not treating you appropriately when your fat is 100% a thing.

Internalised fat hate and fat phobia is a thing for many fat people and it pops up at weird moments.

I don 't.give a damn about being in a bathing suit. As long as it fits and my boobs and butt.aren't.falling out - I am happy and feel very attractive. In fact I am probably at my most comfortable in a bathing suit or naked. My body is mine in both those instances.

To reach the "healthy weight" for my height - I would have to lose half of my body mass. That is a lot of me to loose. Embarking on something like that would be totally different than loosing 5 or 10 pounds. Trying to navigate the various medical opinions about whether being fat is bad or not is exhausting.

For me, being fat and older is easier than being fat and younger. This could easily be the opposite for someone else.

Some fat people are into sex, some are not . Some folks are into sex with fat people and some are not. Some are nice about it. Some are not. Some want nice. Some do not.

Fat people are all around you living their best life or their worst life or somewhere in between. We know we are fat. We sometimes care and sometimes don't.

Ok that's it. I don't know if it will help anyone or if it's just a collection of rambles - but at the end of the day...fat people are just people. We are not going to go away. We are all sorts. We are the heroes of our own stories. We are people who are loved, depended on, hated, ignored, and/or spotlighted.

Some fat people think about being fat all the time. Some rarely. Just please don't erase us or other us.

Just by taking the step to interrogate your own biases and any feelings / assumptions you have about fatness/thinness is a huge step and will help limit the harm you could unintentionally do to fat people...actually to all people. Like all forms of hate and intelorance - Fat hate hurts EVERYONE. I would argue it privileges a few...but even that can be excruciating for the individuals who strive to retain that priviledge. We need to dismantle it.

#writing #writing fat characters #fat phobia #fat hate #long post #personal #body neutrality #body posititivity #writing about bodies

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prettiedup · 7 months ago

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fratboy/playboy!gojo takin readers virginity :3

hes manipulative :(( all is consensual tho

it’s truly a mystery as to how satoru got his hands on you. even suguru doesn’t understand how such a flamboyant person managed to get someone like you, someone so sweet and pure. satoru is aware of the curious eyes that stick to the two of you like glue, he knows what people think and he loves it. he enjoys knowing he has the last piece to the puzzle. when people try to map out how a fuckboy got his grimy fingers onto you, he becomes tight lipped, only offering a sly smirk.

it’s no one’s business to know that he was persistent in getting you一sometimes too persistent. he’d linger around your dorm room, he sat directly beside you in the one class the two of you had together, it was minor things that blossomed into you catching feelings for him. when you had briefly mentioned to satoru that you were new to the city and didn’t exactly have many friends, god一you’ve never seen him smile so wide. you were oblivious to inner musings; lewd, disgusting thoughts of innocent you.

of course he had ulterior motives. as beautiful as you are, satoru finds girls with a bit of fight in them more attractive than submissive girls. you weren’t exactly his type but your naivety strung him along. and boy, was all the waiting worth it.

“t-toru.” you gasp his name dumbly. your pretty eyes glance down to where his thick cock was stretching your pussy. your long square shaped nails dig into his shoulder blade. “t-thought you said it wouldn’t h-hurt..” you sniffle.

“‘m a guy, baby. i’ve never had my cherry popped.” he huffs out a chuckle. his chuckle is quieted once he bites down on his lip and concentrates on pushing his cock deep inside of you. once his hips are smacked against the fat of your ass, he takes a moment to look at you.

you feel so full of him. you could feel every vein, every ridge, the feeling of his cock pulsating inside you. it was almost too much of a feeling. “can we take a break, toru?” you remove your hands from his shoulders to cover your face.

luckily, you weren’t able to see satoru roll his eyes at your question. “princess, really? we’ve gotten so far. i一jus’ look at how your pussy’s squeezing me.”

“it’s.. w-we don’t have to stop jus’ a little break, toru.” you try to reason. satoru sucks his teeth in response. his cock is throbbing and he just wants to start pounding his way through your walls, giving your pussy the treatment it deserves.

“fine. i guess i’ll have t’call another girl to一” he’s cut off by you gasping.

you quickly uncover your face and grab at his forearms. your eyes dart to the silver infinity chain that hangs from his neck and threatens to rub against your forehead. “no! please, no. we can do it! no breaks, ‘kay? you hear me, toru?” you wrap your legs around his waist as if you’re showing him that you mean every word you say.

“nah, it’s good. unwrap your legs.” satoru has to fight himself, repeating in his head 'don't smile'. he’s got you where he wants you.

tears adorn your eyes as you look at him with apprehension. “p-please, d-daddy. i don’t wanna take a break. don’t go, please.”

“well.. i guess we can finish.” he places a soft kiss on your lips before pulling his hips back and thrusting into you.

you’re satoru’s little delicate thing, he’ll make sure he has his fun with you.

#fratboy/playboy!gojo #pwinkprincess ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა #₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ #toruuu ᡣ𐭩 ୨୧ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶#jjk ! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა #˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗#jjk x reader #jjk #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #jjk satoru #satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x y/n #jjk smut

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cocklessboy · 2 years ago

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I see a lot of people saying that gender-affirming health care like top surgery for trans people like myself should be freely available (which is correct), but one of the reasons they often give is that top surgery is very safe and has a very low rate of complications compared to other surgeries. And I often see transphobes clutching their pearls over the few people who do have complications. What about them?! What if you're one of the unlucky ones?! Should we really let those transes risk it??!!!

Setting aside the fact that no one raises such concerns over other types of surgery, I'd like to use myself as an example for anyone who needs one.

In May of 2022 I had top surgery (double mastectomy). The surgery was done by a gynecological surgeon, not a plastic surgeon, because that way my insurance would cover it.

The surgeon did his job and removed the breast tissue, but he did not make it look pretty. I have dog-ears at both ends of both scars (extra bits of skin that hang off in a very unappealing fashion), my chest still looks unnaturally flat with no muscle or fat despite a lot of working out, and one of the stitches didn't heal properly and was left as an open wound through "secondary healing" for several months before it finally healed over into a very large scab (and eventually a very large scar). My nipples are uneven and irregular and look... well, just awful, really. Due to bad genetic luck, I wound up with keloid scars which, instead of getting smaller and lighter over time, have instead expanded, becoming thicker and darker. Worst of all, I now have chronic nerve pain in my chest. My GP thinks the surgeon must have hit a nerve during the procedure, and now I have random sharp pains all over my chest even now, nearly ten months later. The pain might improve with time, or it might not.

I basically had almost every possible complication one can have from this surgery short of infection or death. Some of the aesthetics might be fixable with more surgery (though plastic surgery will be expensive). Some are probably permanent. I might never feel comfortable taking my shirt off in public again. I might have to tattoo over the scars.

And pay attention to this next bit, because it's the most important part of this whole post: I do not regret the surgery. Even with all the complications and the ugly state of my chest and the pain. If someone said they could push a button and make it so that the surgery never happened and I'd have a perfect, unmarred chest with C-cup breasts again, I would tell them to take their button and fuck right off. Because even with basically the worst of all possible outcomes, that surgery was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I don't feel good about taking my shirt off in front of people now. I do think my chest is ugly. But it's a male chest now. When I put on a t-shirt, it rests flat against my chest. No one will ever mistake me for a woman again. I'll never have to wear a bra or binder ever again.

The dysphoria I felt from having breasts was so severe that a hideously scarred chest and chronic pain are vastly preferable. The euphoria I feel when I look in the mirror with a shirt on is something I never knew I was capable of feeling.

And it's my fucking body, and it's up to me what I do with it. If I wanted to tattoo myself from head to toe, or file my teeth into fangs, or have a doctor break my legs and surgically implant extensions to make me taller, that's my right because it's my body. The fact that all those things are regarded as basically acceptable (if a little weird), but I had to have a dehumanizing interview with an old cis psychiatrist who hates trans people and wants us all sterilized just to get a piece of paper giving me permission to have my tits removed, is fucking absurd.

Top surgery (of any kind) is generally very safe, and complications are rare. But even with the worst outcome, a trans person will basically never regret it.

And frankly, if a cis woman wants her tits cut off, or a cis man wants a pair of boobs to play with on his own chest, more power to them because literally who gives a fuck what people do to their own bodies? I saw a dude on TV when I was a kid who'd tattooed his whole body to look like a cat, filed his teeth into fangs, and had loads of plastic surgery to surgically implant whiskers and make his face look more feline. It was weird! But literally no one said that should be banned because he might regret it. It's his body to do whatever weird shit he wants with.

The next time someone clutches their pearls and kicks and screams about how you can't let someone permanently alter their body in a way they might regret, feel free to point to me and my complete and utter lack of regret.

(Or have a little fun with it, go hard in the other direction, and say you absolutely agree, which is why we should ban ALL non-emergency surgeries until the patient has been FULLY evaluated by three psychiatrists - along with tattoos and piercings. Oh, and ballet lessons for anyone under the age of 25, since ballet changes the structure of a child's body FOREVER.)

#transgender #transmasc #trans man #lgbtqia+#queer #top surgery #gender dysphoria

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jmdbjk · 3 months ago

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Well...

I've always harped on their "chemistry" and its no exaggeration. They fit together so naturally. They are so very in tune with each other, when you are with that person and you feel like everything is right and it doesn't matter what you are doing, where you are going or if you are doing anything or nothing at all.

This episode was completely different than any of the previous episodes.

By the end of November they both knew what was going to happen and embracing the idea that they were about to "go in" and they were doing this together. They flat out said they were making memories to take with them while they served their military obligation.

Jimin and Jungkook clearly see themselves as just ordinary people living extraordinary lives, and they want to and expect to experience ordinary things.

The convenience store visit.

They ran like kids sliding on the ice, stomped in the snow, threw snowballs at each other, even though occasionally, Jimin's pragmatism burst their cozy little bubble:

Jungkook: "When it snows during our military service I think I'll recall this moment."

Jimin: "Right now, we're watching the snow from a hotel window but soon we'll have to sweep it up."

Ever the romantic, that Jimin...

Walking on the street with the general public, getting coffee, making their way to the train station... just like everyone else...

Yes, they had a crew with them, leading them and following them through the streets of Sapporo. But everything they did was ordinary.

When they are ordering food or drinks, their attempts at reading and speaking Japanese are endearing. They just dove right in. I love them. See? Don't let language be an obstacle when traveling in a foreign country!

I don't know if that's his personal little round furry money purse or if the staff used that for this trip's spending money and just handed it to him... but it was cute as fuck.

There is nothing pretentious about them. Yes they can whip out the black card to pay for expensive whisky but Jungkook took pleasure in choosing what he wanted himself, carrying his armload of 18 year old whisky to the counter and paying the $4000 for it himself at the distillery. He could have had someone else do it for him.

We saw these purchases in his refrigerator during his live on Dec. 8:

As ordinary as it was, there were still some very WTF moments that everyone has already pointed out:

That moment from the car ride on the way from the airport to the hotel at 11 o'clock at night, no seatbelts, Jimin practically sitting in Jungkook's lap and both smushed against the door. Jungkook looking like he is about to get lucky or just did.... man, I don't know what that was all about and how it stayed in this episode instead of getting edited out. I mean... there is a cut so we are not seeing the entire thing but what they left in was... ok?... I guess?

The train ride sequence (even though it was highly manipulated in post-production to wipe out all the other people)...

That culminates in this... we hope it ends up being a selca in the photobook. The moment was so sweet.

At the distillery, cosplaying their pickup lines at a bar...

Jimin's moment of clarity when he envisioned himself a girl dad and Jungkook thinking "uhhhhh... ok, Jimin, whatever you say"...

Gotta say though, Jimin envisioning himself a father at some point in the future was very sweet.

They reminisced a lot, talking about how much they and the other members have changed over the years and still remarking to each other how young they both look when back outside in the cold air, cheeks flushed from whisky and beer and a hot meal.

Their point of view regarding their looks, "they enjoy watching us gradually get raggedy and fat."

Yet, their age difference is exactly what makes them click. Jimin being older, caring, watchful, responsible in the early years, and Jungkook, so young, still socially awkward, always watching Jimin, always sticking close by him, learning how to maneuver the situations they faced in their profession. Through the years they evolved and matured personally and professionally into the men they are today.

If they had been same-agers, the outcome may not have been the same.

Again, props to the staff for everything they did to make this happen for Jimin and Jungkook. It appeared that some of the time they remained outside in the cold while Jimin and Jungkook were indoors eating or getting coffee.

This trip was their final trip before that "rite of passage" that every Korean male is obligated to fulfill. There was a poignant edge to a lot of this episode, in what they talked about, in the imagery. Jimin has always seemed to want to hang on to his "youth" and now he was about to cross that line and he knew it.

I also keep harping on the fact Jimin and Jungkook are together as we speak and I am thankful for that every day. I firmly believe they are thankful for each other, even if they are not same age friends.

Two more episodes.

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #kookmin #are you sure?#i love this thing they left for us it is so very special #i suppose we won't talk about the two days in tokyo prior to sapporo...

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kalims · 2 years ago

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you say I love you as a goodbye accidentally | all

premise.

"okay," you smile at no one in particular, though you've got a feeling the other person on the line can feel your smile. "thanks. I love you, bye," without a single thought behind your head you hang up and emit a dreamy sigh.

wait.

your smile drops as your face shifts into panic.

completely spaces out, lowkey having a crisis. did you mean it or no? part of him wishes you were because his heart is just gonna start combusting either way. everyone is concerned why he's been staring into thin air for the past two minutes tightly gripping his phone like it's his life support. he looks like he's in a dilemma and two seconds away from suffocation because of how long his breath seems to have been caught away.

can't stop thinking about it and seems more silent when in person with you. *ascends to heaven*

riddle, deuce, azul, jamil, silver.

ㅤ

is very.. verbal about it. is either bragging to everyone who really does not want to listen to his constant nagging or proclaiming, as in busting everyone's eardrums off with his shrill screams of excitement. if he could he would practically be characterized by someone jumping around the room in a fit of joy and adrenaline. he just has to do something to tame the literal mile his heart is running.

is way more affectionate with you than normal which you don't know if you should be concerned with or happy.

cater, floyd, kalim, epel, rook (sometimes.)

ㅤ

on the more calming side. but can't help but crack a smile at your words, partially aware that it was out of habit but it didn't exactly stop the myriad of crisis you just sent his mind to. though he looks completely fine on the outside he's just teensy, tiny bit freaking out on the inside. don't worry, all you need to know that he is very pleased about it.

starts to tell you 'I love you too' by the end of your calls, making everyone assume you're dating but it's more like a married couple than a normal.

trey, jade, vil, lilia.

ㅤ

is just a big fat tsudere that can't seem to look you in the eye properly when you both meet in real life. you have no idea what he's thinking but what you do know is the words you accidentally blurted last night so.. basically two idiots who are thinking the same thing but refuse to talk due to the embarrassment. would talk about it if the other initiates first though..

wants to talk about it but also doesn't wanna talk about it?

deuce, epel, sebek, jack, idia.

ㅤ

NEVER LETS YOU FORGET ABOUT IT. having dinner? oh would you look at that, that's before you told him the words. raining? it was raining during that time too. do you just want to rest? too bad, because his face is twisting to that smug look and you know full well what's coming out of his mouth next. he's always teasing you about it.

thinks what you said was a joke but doesn't really mind if it is. an 'I love yous' an I love you and he will keep reminding you that :) playfully but uses it against you :'( *descends to hell*

ace, leona, ruggie, lilia.

ㅤ

immediately brightens up and flashes everyone with his sunshine because he's so happy. his familiar love for you just grows a thousand times bigger than before and he finds himself doing what you ask without any complaints. he just wants to help you <3 cause he just kinda considers you as a family figure now..

leaves idia in the dust lowkey haha.. he still loves him tho

ortho (platonic)

ㅤ

grins and looks immensely pleased. his giggles are a little ominous but even you can discern the clear happiness in them. it was so subtle that you didn't even notice him straying closer than usual.

can't seem to leave you alone now.

rook, jade, floyd.

ㅤ

uhm.. hello? child of man? lilia told him that this.. electronic box would make him hear your voice even through the portal of diasomnia but he can't seem to hear anything, nor see anything but a black screen. strange. is it broken? (yes malleus, you broke it because you were too excited to talk to the prefect.)

did not know but probably would have died if he ever heard it and immediately propose to you and stage a ceremony.

malleus.

note. why did I forget about some characters until the last moment lolll. I am out of ideas fr HAHA. perhaps this is the end of the posting streak?

not proofread

kofi

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agentmarvel · 5 months ago

Text

center image by @/ave661

PART II

hitman!ghost x fat!reader (afab, fem) w/ arranged marriage

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

rating: explicit

word count: 3,010

read on ao3

cw: toxic parenting, implied fatshaming, simon begins his descent into madness, so obsessive!simon

♡

It's irksome, the way Johnny fusses over Simon's bowtie. He keeps turning and twisting it in an effort to straighten it out, but the little perfectionist is just never satisfied.

“s'fine, Soap. Leave it alone.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid. Damn thing's more crooked than yer nose, LT. Not letting ye get hitched lookin’ like a dafty.”

Simon sighs, rolling his eyes with a sly smirk. He's partial to the nickname, though neither of them served a day in their life. Well, not in the traditional sense, at least. But the semblance is a loyalty forged in sweat and blood; Johnny's been with him for years, a parting gift from Price.

“He's a good lad, Simon - real salt of the earth type. Bit chatty, but he works as hard as his old man did. Think he'd do well with you.”

Simon thinks he truly understated the chatty bit, but as usual, was not wrong.

“Aye, there we are.” Johnny finally steps back, admiring his work. “Yer tie looks better now; shame we can fix yer ugly mug, though.”

“Oi, fuck off.”

Kyle snickers across the small room, straightening his cuff with a grin.

“Don't be such a git, mate. Not every day the big man gets married. Frankly, with a face like that, doubted he ever would.”

“You're both fired,” Simon mutters, shaking his head as he moves towards the door.

“Where ye think yer goin'? She's not laid eyes on ye, so I dinnae think she's bolted yet.”

“Better give ‘er the chance then, yeah?”

He slips out the door with an amused hum before wiping his palms against his slacks. Never will he admit it, but a waxing sense of anxiety gnaws at his gut. It’s been years since he’s actually felt… nervous. Not since his first solo contracted kill. Treading unfamiliar territory stirs foreign feelings, but perhaps they’re not all bad ones.

To take the edge off, Simon decides to step out for a smoke. That wasn’t his intent initially, lest Soap bitch at him for disrupting the effects of his subtle cologne, but he’s willing to face the wrath for some nicotine. He pats his jacket, feeling the creased, misshapen cardboard pack in his breast pocket and looks for the nearest exit. It’s just a bit further down the hall.

But something stops him before he steps out. An argument behind another closed door.

“Of course I think you look nice! All I’m saying is that you could’ve put a bit of effort into losing more weight. I didn’t hire a top nutritionist and personal trainer just for you to not need more alterations.”

Simon recognizes that voice. Your father has an unmistakable level of condescension that drips off every word he says.

“And would it kill you to smile? It’s your wedding day, for Christ’s sake! Pretend you’re happy.”

“You’re not in any position to ask anything of me.” The response is acrimonious, venomous, and a voice that doesn’t ring any bells. It’s you.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me. I am your father, and you will do as I say.” The already bellicose tone swells as his voice raises, and Simon has half a mind to step in. A sense of fury burns within his chest. He should’ve known that someone with such a flagrant disregard for you behind your back would be just as derisive to your face. It’s crass at minimum, especially in the face of your own fucking child.

The only thing stopping him is the want for things to go smoothly today; a temporary ceasefire to ensure that he can fulfill his obligation.

Still, he feels a tug at his hollow heartstrings. No one deserves to be spoken down to in that manner, let alone on their wedding day. He’s certain you look stunning, and he’ll be sure to tell you as much when he finally gets to see you.

He’ll also be sure to limit contact with your father immediately after the marriage license is filed. Keeping that twat on a short leash ought to keep his beautiful bride in high spirits, yeah?

Before he can think better of his decision, Simon sees himself outside. Getting his fix does little to quell the rage stoked by his albeit unintentional eavesdropping. Before he knows it, he’s gone through half the pack and is about to light another when he gets a text from Kyle.

>>> It's time!

He takes the unlit cigarette from his lips and begrudgingly stows it away. Making his way back inside, his stride slows as he approaches the door to the bridal suite. It's partially open, and from what he can see, your father is conspicuously absent. You remain, however.

It's hard to fathom how a man could be so cruel to such a creature of allure. In the most fleeting glance as he passes by, Simon's struck with a gravitational pull. You're the moon, he's the tide. At that moment, he wants nothing more than to turn back. He wants to make his presence known and promise you'll never face another day of derision after today. You'll never endure another vile word. A painful, gruesome death would befall anyone who treated you so disgracefully from this moment on. In that singular frame, Simon knows he'd break John's rules for you. He’d break his own rules for you.

And he's never even spoken to you.

♡

Johnny's waiting for him just a few doors down. As Simon approaches, he sees Johnny’s nose wrinkle.

“Och! Ye smell like the alley behind a fuckin’ pub, ye reprobate. C'mere, ye fuckin’ oaf.”

As predicted, Simon supposes.

It's a quick fix, and Johnny rushes him off to the altar. Simon adjusts his jacket, buttoning it properly before taking a deep breath and pushing ahead. The room goes silent as several dozen eyes abandon their previous gazes to watch him. His confidence doesn’t waver outwardly. There’s no room for that. He keeps his eyes forward as he approaches the pulpit. A familiar face awaits him there in a fresh-pressed three-piece.

“Didn’t know you did weddings,” he laughs, low and clipped.

“Do funerals, too, if you know anyone in need,” John Price hums back with a grin. Simon offers a hand, one Price accepts with a quick, firm shake. “Good to see you, my boy. Been too long.”

“Not long enough if your chin hasn’t caught up with your chops yet.”

“Glad to see time hasn’t dulled your sense of humor.” It’s a dry response, but the creases at the corners of his eyes give away his amusement.

Idly, they chat, waxing philosophical to pass the time. Periodically, John checks his watch and looks into the balcony, but he doesn’t miss a single word Simon utters. Simon’s seen this before; something isn’t quite right, and Price is trying to suss out precisely what it is.

The door at the back of the chapel opens, and a small woman with wiry hair rushes up the aisle as fast as her little legs could carry her without breaking into a jog. She clambers the quartet of steps, looking a bit worse for wear. Sweat prickles her brow, her sunken eyes seeming to recede with each movement. John raises an eyebrow as if to ask her if she’s okay, but she ignores the unspoken concern.

“So sorry to keep you waiting, John. Bride had a little, eh, mishap, but we’re ready to begin.”

Simon opens his mouth to demand more detail, but Price shoots him a pointed look, the aim to keep the dog from barking as he reassures her, “Perfectly fine, Doris. Is the young lady alright?”

“Quite. She's just had a bit of a rocky morning. Nerves and all.”

She shrugs with a timid smile, like that'll placate the intense look of defensiveness on Simon's usually stoic face. He knows she's not being entirely truthful, but to whose benefit?

Price gives her a curt nod and offers his arm to usher her to her seat. Her frail fingers curl around his elbow, blue veins protruding like a web of thread unspooled. She smiles at Simon sympathetically. They descend the short few steps in stagger, and he can’t help but wonder what it is that she knows that he doesn’t.

It doesn’t matter, he decides. After today, none of this really matters. The setting is a mere formality, born of a desire for flamboyancy and extravagance, neither of which have ever been in Simon’s wheelhouse. His preference for something simple and quiet was aggressively overruled from the start.

His eyes drift over the observers that casually mill about the pews. Only one bears any familiarity, the one patting an old woman’s hand before turning back towards the pulpit, while the rest look more like faceless mannequins, nondescript in the forward echoes of memory.

John takes his place beside Simon, asking under his breath in close proximity, “Are you ready?”

Simon nods, folding his hands together in front of him and adjusting his stance to face the doors at the back of the aisle. In his periphery, he sees Price signal the woman who sits at the piano. She begins to play something Simon doesn’t recognize. Immediately, those stark moths flood to their seats like a bright bulb.

The doors open after a few measures, a pair of well-dressed ushers securing them in position. Shortly, the two pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen enter, timely and in sequence. The young women accompanied by Simon’s men are both bright-eyed and all smiles, but the air of wariness is not lost on anyone keen enough to notice. Circumstantially, this wedding is dubious at best, and if they’re close enough for you to ask them to join the wedding party, then they’re close enough to know the truth.

He’s under no illusion that you’re an overtly willing participant in any of this. You were blindsided. Out of the blue - no warning, no inkling - being told over dinner that your father is not the man you always believed him to be, that you’ve been promised to a stranger to improve business prospects, that you’re seen as a pawn rather than a person. Simon feels vaguely guilty for the turmoil, but seeing the lack of consideration for you truncates it. You’ll be better off by his side. That’s not the fanatical part of his brain speaking; it’s factual.

When he hears the music change from a simple, tedious tune to a melodic version of the traditional bridal march, reality pulls him back into his body. His gaze locks on the doorway. For the first time - the first real time - he gets to see you.

You look god damn gorgeous. There’s no other way to describe it.

The dress is bright white, almost blinding. Crystalline and pearl accents around the neck and waist lines reflect sun rays from the windows, giving you an ethereal glow. Delicate charmeuse drapes some of your curves while tulle hides others (much to his dismay). Simon swears the halo above your perfectly styled hair isn’t a trick of the light. You look like a fucking angel - his angel.

His heart is racing, raging against the cage of his ribs like the bars of a prison cell. It wants to escape, break free and put itself in your hands. The pace of his breathing has quickened, palms beginning to sweat, and a foreign euphoria falls over him like mist. His lips curl into the smallest expression of joy, barely detectable, and John nudges him with his elbow.

“Congratulations, my boy. She’s a beauty.”

A sense of pride swells in his chest at that.

Halfway down the aisle, you finally look up at Simon. In the span of seconds, your expression rolls through a series of emotions; bitter, then a mite of surprise, confusion… then admiration and ire.

You take on a more timid look as you approach, though, fingers wrapped loosely around the inside of your father’s elbow. Despite the narrowness of the aisle, you’re still positioned as far away from him as you can be. The anger is palpable, rolling off you in waves. Just beneath the surface, an indeterminable despair. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be anywhere near that bastard or Simon himself. He may not have gotten to know you in the traditional sense, but he knows human behavior all too well.

You’re hurt. Betrayed. Defiant.

The iniquity of it all gnaws at his bones as he extends a hand to you. He watches your snake of a father wrenches your wrist with a hollow smile to pull you closer before taking your fingers in his with a brutish grip.

“Do you give this woman to be married to this man?” Price asks, an obscure grit of disapproval at the display thickening his voice.

“I do,” your father answers, tugging your arm forward in an offering of your hand.

Simon takes it gently, savoring the feeling of your soft, manicured fingers sliding across his rough, calloused palm. You lift the hem of your dress with your free hand, taking each step like it’ll delay the inevitable. There’s a tremble in your touch, undoubtedly apprehensive, uncertain, scared.

When you’re settled on the top step, you glance at your father with pleading eyes. His expression is stern and hardened. He mouths an inaudible warning before turning to take his seat, and Simon swears he sees the last shreds of your stubborn will collapse.

Quietly, you hand your bouquet to the bridesmaid just behind you before placing your other hand into Simon’s waiting one. Tears spring up in your eyes, and he gives you the softest squeeze.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers so softly that even Price almost misses it. Your eyes shoot up to his. “Let’s just get through this, yeah? We can talk about everything when we don’t have an audience.”

You nod.

♡

It all passes in a haze, like Simon’s somehow running on autopilot while still autonomous in part. Both your vows and his were written by the wedding planner with significant input from your parents. An effort to hide the clandestine nature of the nuptials, he supposes. He recites his from recall, trying to place emphasis where needed like code. Yours, however, have him rapt. While he knows the words are not your own, something about hearing you profess your love ignites a spark within him. Hell, he nearly misses his cue for the ring because he’s so focused on absorbing your presence, memorizing every detail of the way you look right now.

One thing snaps him from his infatuated stupor: “You may now kiss the bride.”

He eyes you warily, seeking any sign of discomfort. There are no sirens sounding, no postings of danger, no flashing warning lights. You’ve resigned yourself to the moment’s arrival, and Simon does not hesitate. His hands curl around the roundness of your cheeks, slotting you into his palms like you were made to fit. The tilt of his head falls opposite yours.

Slowly, he leans forward. Leisurely so as not to alarm you. Your breathing hitches just a hair as he closes in. The tips of your fingers settle against his chest as he reels you closer. His lips barely brush yours, a hint of strawberry as your gloss transfers in brief contact, and you draw him nearer until you reconnect.

It consumes him wholly now, the spark, engulfing his entire being. Flames of desire lick up the base of his spine, rising until your fingerprints are blistering his skin. He’s melting into you, embers glittering as they rise up and away until he’s nothing more than ash, staining every inch of you he may ever touch with a permanent marking that can’t be scrubbed away. Your name is branded on his chest, now and forever. In every way, he is yours.

Price is kind enough to wait until the kiss ends to formally announce the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Simon Riley with a reminder that a reception will occur at a later date. Simon takes your hand in his and briskly leads you back down the aisle, grateful for the guise of a honeymoon flight to stave off a night of questioning and awkwardness.

It’s not a honeymoon that awaits, but rather a lengthy flight back to Manchester. Movers cleared out your apartment this morning, carting it to the tarmac to load. Another crew will be waiting to unload it the moment you touch down.

Simon hopes you’ll be able to get some rest during the flight. You needn’t lift a finger, don’t worry; he’s just concerned for the dark circles hidden under your make-up, the torn bits of skin around your nails, the way your voice rings unsteady and uneven in the moments you’re alone with him.

It’s understandable that you don’t trust him yet. You don’t know him quite as intimately as he knows you. You’re afraid, unsure of what comes next. The life you knew is in upheaval, disrupted by years of lies and deceit. You don’t know what’s real anymore. You doubt everything. Who knew the truth and didn’t tell you? Are your friends even really your friends? Did your parents ever love you, or were you always just a puppet? The strings are too tangled to separate at this point, so you might as well accept your fate and cut them.

You sob into his chest, tears soaking through his white button down. It’s taken so much out of you, hasn’t it? And now you’re here, spilling your guts to a man you don’t know as he holds you, dutifully and steadfast.

One more hour, and you’ll be away from all of this. He won’t lie to you, he won’t hide things from you. You’ll never have to question yourself or the people around you again. You’re getting the life you deserve now.

It’s okay to trust him, sweet girl. Tell him all your secrets, let him in, let him live in your skin, burrow deep in your mind. Simon will keep you safe. At any cost.

part iii

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod x you #fat reader #plus size reader #jj writes

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cherrymoon4 · 8 months ago

Note

hello ^^ ( thank you sososo much for the love on the other posts! send me requests if you want :P )

hiya!! <3333

honestly don't want to pressure you by requesting xxx

buttttt i love, love, love the way you write suguru xxx

so i'd be happy with anything with him <33333

whether it be a continuation of a similar dynamic with the curses aftertaste fic or something else entirely...

Roommate!Suguru would be so possessive and yummy.

Initially, when you first moved in the apartment, he didn't really care much about you. He knew you had a pretty face and were kinda shy, but that's all.

But as time went on and you opened yourself up to him, he began to get quite obsessed with you. He would be all over you as soon as he stepped foot in your apartment; and you would let him, after all he was just being friendly! right?

It didn't matter that anytime he would hug you from behind you would feel something hard pressing against the small of your back. It was probably just his phone in his pocket!

And you're sure that it's your mind doing tricks on you whenever you hear the bathroom door open while you take a shower. He would never ever spy on you, you were sure.

So when you come home from a terrible date, the first thing you do is rush over to him, your pretty eyes filled with tears, and throw yourself in his arms.

He was quite pissed off from the moment you told him you were going on a date. I mean, you have a perfectly good man at home! Why would you even consider seeing someone else?

Suguru always took good care of you. He always pampered and spoiled you, and every time you would think that he was just being generous.

I mean, he had a big reputation as a respectful and kind guy, especially among girls; his giving personality was what attracted them, his deep, soothing voice and his looks were a plus.

So obviously you thought he was just being his kind self when he took your teary eyed face in his hands and wrapped you up in his arms, engulfing your entire body as if protecting you.

But you couldn't deny the warmth in your belly as he whispered in your ear and rubbed your back, listening intently while you vented about how horrible your date was.

And the whole time he was just subtly smiling to himself, knowing that you would always come back to him; that even if you convinced yourself that you were just friends, deep down you knew that you were meant for him.

"It's not your fault, darling. He wouldn't be able to take care of you properly anyway, not like I do. But you know that, don't you baby? You know no one can compare to me, right?" he mumbled condescendingly, taking your puffy cheeks in his hands and tilting your head upwards to look at him in the eye.

God, you were so fucking precious. Especially like this, all pouty and teary-eyed, soft and pliant in his hands.

"Told you that you should've stayed home with your Sugu, but you just had to be a little brat and not listen to me, mh?"

And you know that if you had listened to him you wouldn't be in this position, you know that he's right.

So when his hands start to wander all over your body while he says that he "just wants to make ya feel better", you just nod and let him.

You don't know what you did to deserve him!

He's too kind, you think as his hands rub your waist and wander lower.

You think he's such a good friend when he pulls your panties down, his fingers rubbing your little clit to "make the sad go away".

And when your legs are over his shoulders, his cock nestled deep inside you and your tummy bulging, you think he's the best friend ever!

He smirks down at you, and he knows he's got you hooked when he sees your eyes crossing and your legs shaking.

"Look at you, already dumb on my cock. You love it, don't you baby? Yeah you do, f-fuck.." he plunges so hard in your little hole, biting his lip to stifle the moans coming out of his mouth.

He knows this is where you belong: your body pressed into the mattress, your pretty pussy stretching around his fat shaft, your wetness creating a pretty ring of cream coating the base of his cock, your pink nails (that he paid for) drawing red stripes across his back;

and maybe then he realizes that he's the one wrapped around your finger, when he fills your little cunt up to the brim with his hot cum, and a small part of him wishes that it takes. maybe then you would only think about him, you'll realize that he's all you truly need, and you for him <3

hiiii! thank u so much for the request (sorry for answering late) i don’t really love this but wtv! hope u do😚

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saerins · 11 months ago

Text

⋆୨ chapter six ୧˚ redefines in every way what love is

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter five - if not for this love of mine <> next: chapter seven - till forever falls apart ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 13.2k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, jealousy/paranoia, third parties, manipulation, mostly from sae’s (& mirin’s) pov | notes: okay i’ve finally finished it !! sorry for the super long break but real life had a chokehold on me (aka my job sucks) </3 anyway ! hope you enjoy sae’s pov , heh he’s so bad at relationships but sorry i love him <3 next chapter should be the last so ^_^

Sae & Mirin; 17.

It was a peculiar feeling.

Up until that point, whatever interest Sae had in life centred around soccer. Around being the best. Needless to say, when his parents weren’t too happy about both their sons not wanting to take over the family business, Sae took the brunt of it all.

His fingers idly traced circles around the injury on his ankle—the injury caused by another player perpetrated by his parents. It was honestly laughable; the extent to which his parents would go to to have him submit to their will.

“Hey, handsome and gloomy.”

There was that voice he loved to hear. It was silly how easy it was for a special someone to make him smile. A warm pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck from behind, pressing her weight down on top of him.

“Yes, pretty?”

Mirin laughed, that smile lighting up her features. Her lips pressed a kiss against his cheek before she settled beside him.

They were sitting on top of the school building—after lessons, because Mirin had strict parents who would kill her if she ever skipped class.

“Look at you, moping up here all on your own, ignoring your girlfriend,” she mused, body swaying from side to side before her head eventually rested on his shoulder. A sigh left her lips, the graduation looming upon them catching up to her.

Sae chuckled, pressing a soft kiss onto the top of her head, both of them relishing in the moment. There was an uneasiness that pressed in the air around them, but it was one that Sae chose to ignore. Mirin had a lot of things on her mind that she liked to keep to herself, and this was something that happened very often. It could be because of her overbearing parents, but Sae never minded that.

“Sae, can I ask you something?”

It was a timid tone that he wasn’t used to, but he let it slide.

“Anything.”

“Ten years from now, would you still love me the same?” It was a question that made Sae snort, because he didn’t realise Mirin would talk about the future. She wasn’t one to do so. She nudged him on the arm, laughing along with him because it was hard for her to be all down when she was around him. “Hey, I’m serious, ten years from now, would you still love this annoying, hard headed girlfriend of yours?”

At that time, it wasn’t a hard question. At that time, all Sae could see and care about was Mirin. There was never a doubt in his mind.

So he looked her in the eye, his pinky finger looped around hers.

“Ten years from now, huh? Think I would’ve married you by then.”

Mirin smiled, the most genuine one she ever let loose in her life. Only because at that moment, she felt his sincerity. The only person who treated her with any sort of decency in the way that she needed. In the face of her strict family, with Sae, she had nothing to fear. He was all she needed.

“I’ll hold you to it, Itoshi Sae.”

Sae chuckled, leaning down to kiss Mirin on the lips. “Whatever you say, Mrs Itoshi.”

A few months ago.

The news was broken to him like he was watching a news program and the news anchor was reporting on some trivial matter.

As always, his father said such a thing oh so casually, eating away at his lamb chop and then swiftly switching the subject to wedding preparations, as if his son was a tool that he could command at will.

“What did you just say?”

Because surely Sae heard him wrongly? Surely his father did not just mention that he was to be married to a stranger he barely knew?

This was his life, wasn’t it?

“I expect you to behave, do you understand?” His father responds, ignoring Sae’s question completely. He knew his son heard him, he said it loud and clear after all. “Anyway, we’ll pay fifty-fifty and—”

“No.”

There was a threat in his father’s glare, but it was one that Sae was way too used to.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t care why you need this stupid marriage to go through but I’m not doing it.”

It was just laughable; there wasn’t any panic evident in his father’s expression. Sae should’ve known, he could already feel what was coming. If anything, his father was always prepared. It was plans on top of plans, a contingency for every situation.

“Either do this, or I’ll get Rin instead. It’ll be a pain, but don’t think I won’t do it.”

There were a lot of things Sae hated his father for, but what he hated the most was how Rin had to be brought into the conversation as a threat whenever he didn’t get his way. He knew it was the only way to control Sae, and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

“Honey! Stop speaking like that… Sae, please try to understand, this will be a huge opportunity. It’s the least you owe us, hm?”

And Sae didn’t even want to think about his mother. The one who always went along with everything because she was in love with the money she married into. The one who always used faux concern as a tool to ease Sae into his father’s plans.

In the end, neither of them cared for their kids. They were only seen as heirs. Like they owed them for being born. That they were only supposed to unconditionally go along with whatever orders they were given without a second thought. They wanted robots more than actual children, it seemed.

“You lost your shot, do you want Rin to lose his too?”

It was almost all too clear who sabotaged Sae’s chance at being a pro footballer. All it took was a single moment of disobedience from Sae and sponsorship of an entire year’s worth of tuition to one of his rivals to get his leg too injured to play in comfort.

As much as it sucked, all three of them knew Sae’s answer. And just like that, his father was victorious.

“Besides, Y/N seems to be excited for this,” his mother said, trying to switch the subject.

“I’m not fucking marrying her. I don’t even know her.” The words flew out of his mouth before he even realised it.

Maybe it had something to do with Mirin. With that rumour he heard going around that she was either already back in Japan or she was coming back soon. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Sae had been waiting for her this whole time, that she was the only one he ever loved.

Of course, none of that would change his parents’ minds. Consuming your family’s company would bring them a ton of uplift that could sustain their business for many years to come, something a money-greedy businessman would go to extreme lengths to get. So it didn’t matter if Mirin’s family could also bring in benefits in terms of cooperation—it would never amount to yours.

And it was wrong. It was wrong of Sae to vent all of his hatred to the fact that you existed, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

Why did you have to exist?

“Maybe we should just pull Rin out then, get him to come back here and handle all this.” His father knew not to back down.

“Sae, be a good boy and listen to us, okay? How about this—if it ever gets too bad, we’ll look into a divorce in the future, hm?” His mother was just useless, but she did at least consider how he could get out of it. Even if it would prove to be difficult in the future.

Giving up entirely, Sae walked out of the front door. There was no way out of it, for now. Not without consequences. Dire ones. For Rin.

Pulling out Oliver’s contact, Sae hit the call button, with Oliver picking up right as he got into a cab.

“Meet you guys at our usual. I need a fucking drink.”

Day of the wedding.

To say that Sae had cold feet would be an understatement.

His marriage to you would be within the next few hours. After what, a couple months of informing him that they’d arranged him to marry the daughter of their close university friends? And they left a very not-so-subtle hint that they’d force Rin back to marry her if Sae didn’t comply.

Sae realised that your family’s company rivals his own, but who would’ve thought that their sudden yield to the Itoshis wanting to buy the company would result in so much shit being passed onto Sae himself?

There were options presented to him to meet you beforehand. All of which you had agreed to (or so his parents said) and all of which he had declined. He really didn’t have the intention of playing nice with you, or acting like he cared about you. To Sae, all you were was someone standing in between the possibility of him and Mirin.

But he did see you as you walked to the venue all on your own. Without a car or your parents, dressed in a loose white sleeveless top and jeans, buying a pack of tissues from the old man across the road, giving him entirely too much money for a three-pack and then refusing the change.

Teal eyes continued observing you as the old man bowed in gratitude, and your demeanour suggested that it probably wasn’t the first time you were giving money out like charity. Sae noticed the pair of half moon crescents as you smiled, the way it lit up your entire face.

If he thought hard enough, maybe he could remember that one time you saw each other when you were kids. Just that once. He was five. You were four. He vaguely remembered you excitedly chattering away to him about something. Sae doubted you remembered any of that though. It was only once and even he didn’t recall anything about it until today.

Tearing his eyes away from you, he walked away from the ledge of the window at his dressing room, sitting on the edge of the bed, idly staring at his phone, at the messages blowing it up, mostly of Oliver and Otoya in the groupchat, saying how Mirin was actually back.

If there was one thing his friends were good at, it was detective work that they didn’t need to do. Because by now, Sae didn’t want to know.

As much as he hated his circumstances, as much as he didn’t like this situation, he was going to be a married man soon. As much as he didn’t want to, he would rather forget about Mirin sooner than later. It would only serve more hurt if he chose the latter anyway.

Still, false hope wasn’t what he wanted to give you. There was nothing that he could think of that would persuade him to love anyone else but her. That was exactly why he found himself outside your dressing room, waiting to speak to you.

Your sister was with you, and Sae kept his thoughts to himself; he remembered your earlier smile. You were the prettier one in his eyes. That didn’t change what he had to do regardless. And both of you are similar in a frustrating way—both of you like to mask your troubles with your smiles.

Maybe you didn’t want this either, then?

“Hi, um, it’s nice to meet you.”

You sounded like the most awkward person in the world. Not that it mattered. Maybe the awkward distance between the two of you would work in his favour then.

“I wanted to set things straight before we go through with anything.”

Your expression wasn’t one of happiness to begin with, but the moment he said his piece, your face looked like all the blood drained from it. Sae averted his gaze. He didn’t like hurting anyone, and surely he didn’t care for you just yet, but this was better than giving you any sort of hope.

He needed to keep it up. Even after today. Tonight, tomorrow and everyday. Until he could see that you understand where this marriage would go; absolutely nowhere, but that both of you had to stay anyway.

But your parents had impeccable timing, coming over to the room right as he was exiting. That just meant he had to entertain your family for a few more seconds, nothing too difficult. He had been dealing with his father for his whole life after all.

“So, this is the first time you’re meeting our Y/N right? What do you think, son?” Your father sounded like his father when he was trying to play nice. Suddenly it made sense that they would be in cahoots to force their kids together.

“Your daughter is…” Sae lost himself in thought for a while, thinking back to that smile he saw on you, that genuine smile when you were helping someone. Not this fake one you have plastered on to make it seem like everything was okay. You had no obligation to cover for his actions but you did it anyway. “Pretty.”

And even prettier when she’s actually smiling, he thought to himself as he retreated back to his own dressing room.

Later on during the wedding reception, Sae tried his best to act the part of a happy husband. It was hard though, considering how stiff and awkward you were. You really didn’t have talent for being an actress. He let slip a few harsh reminders, but he was careful not to get too into it—last thing he needed was for you to cry.

You were nothing to him. Nothing but the one he had to marry to get his parents off him and his brother’s back.

So why did he feel a tinge of something when he caught your best friend staring? Mikage Reo, not a bad catch himself, and he had been your best friend since elementary school, if Sae recalled correctly.

That was all he could think about when he stormed back to the dressing room, wantonly irritated by his father and mildly annoyed by your concern. The only reason he could think of for being angry was the lingering feelings of an unresolved first love.

The only one he thought he would marry, would watch as she walked down the aisle like a princess out of a fairytale. The only one who taught him love and gave him the most treasured memories of his youth. The only one who could, at this moment, receive his kindness while everyone else would be dead in his eyes.

And of course the universe would perpetuate such a connection; his phone buzzed with notifications from Mirin. An almost empty thread opened up, and he was reminded of when he tried to forget her when she dated another guy while she was overseas. But how could he really forget her when she came back and told him she couldn’t forget about him either? That if it wasn’t too much, if he could wait for her to come back?

Sae won’t deny that there was a mix of emotions about it, that Karasu had told him many times before he thought she was just leading him on, that she wanted a comfortable failsafe for when she inevitably came back and didn’t want to be alone.

That was the key reason why they drifted.

And now, she came back. She came back and she didn’t get her invite because Sae threw it in the trash because even if he didn’t know you, it was common sense that he couldn’t invite Mirin—not when she was the only person capable of changing his mind. Not when he knew she wouldn’t be afraid to voice herself.

Sae didn’t particularly like you, but he wasn’t going to deliberately hurt you that way. He was sure he would upset you in many other ways, unintentionally, but he told himself he wouldn’t do that to you.

As he looked at her chat thread, at his possible responses—how could i ever forget? and i wish it was you and many more he didn’t have the energy to type out—Sae swallowed the lump in his throat. There was a battle going on in his head; the one that knew what was right and the one that wanted to go with his heart.

He succumbed to both.

Staring at his i miss you, he started to remember how hard you tried to keep up with him earlier that day, how you probably tried to stay at his good side.

With his head in his hands, he felt the familiar flow of tears threatening to unveil—it was a hard decision but he had to make it.

That was it. Sae had decided. He had to let go of Mirin and whatever promises they made.

She had to stay in the past.

As he looked at her nickname on his phone, he wished he could will the memories away. Even as he saw her response. Even as he knew the way she told him she missed him too would haunt him for a good while.

Goodbye.

Stepping into the house you two would share felt more than just a little uneasy. Both of you had never been in the same room before today and now your parents expected the both of you to just be okay living together.

Maybe it was a little too much of Sae to just take the master bedroom and banish you to the other one, but it had been a long day and he really wasn’t a saint. He had expected you to argue back but you didn’t, and that was fine with him—maybe once he cleared his head he could think of ways to make it so things were fairer to you but not now.

Not when he was a mix of emotions just threatening to explode.

It was especially perplexing when he got into the room and started checking it out that he found his things already there, unpacked for him, a familiar black box he had once kept precious sitting on the study desk. He didn’t have to open it to know what was inside.

Apart from pictures with Rin, he really should just burn everything else.

Next time. It was always a problem for next time because he was way too annoyed at life for everything else. Looking at it was just a reminder, too, of a life he had once craved and he couldn’t move forward if it was still there.

Yeah, yeah, he’d burn it all to ashes next time and leave it all in the past like he planned.

The next few days after that, count Sae mildly surprised when you kept trying in subtle ways to ease the tension between the two of you.

There were a few things you did; you kept at your good mornings, and on the days you were feeling particularly courageous you bothered to ask him what he wanted for dinner. He didn’t reciprocate much, only contributed his mornings and told you he didn’t need dinner (although he would note how delicious the food you cooked smelled when he came home afterwards).

There was something strange about the way you made him feel—he didn’t understand where you got the energy to keep trying when you knew this wasn’t what either of you wanted. It was easy enough for him to tell that your parents forced you into this too, but what wasn’t easy was trying to see why you were so good.

What was even more frustrating was the sense of comfort he felt. It was alarming. He didn’t know why it was there. But he found himself trying to reject it.

“Isn’t this supposed to be your honeymoon period or something?”

“C’mon, Oliver, they don’t even sleep in the same room,” Otoya sighed, getting bored of the subject. He was also getting tired of watching Sae’s unenthused face every night.

Ever since he got married, he hasn’t once spent a normal night in. He just didn’t think he had any energy to spend on trying to be cordial with you. Not when a million things are still running through his head in a loop.

It was only 8.30pm, and both Oliver and Otoya were already bringing the big liquor bottles out, the lights in the karaoke room dimming.

“Where’s Karasu?”

“Busy again, with god knows what.” Otoya always sounded disinterested in anything and everything. “Where’s the girls?”

The girls, meaning the usual two that they had as fuck buddies, something Sae didn’t care for. That could be all Otoya cared for, actually.

“On the way,” Oliver replied, pouring the whisky into the shot glasses on the table. Three, even though Sae didn’t want any. “By the way,” Oliver said, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he turned to look at Sae. “I have a special guest for you.”

“What?” Sae was entirely too tired to have time to play another one of Oliver’s mind games.

Oliver was already downing a shot for no reason, and Sae chalked it up to being under the constant pressure of being a big shot lawyer’s son.

“That’s who I asked Karasu to get before coming here,” Oliver grinned, sliding a shot glass over to Sae.

Sae ignored it. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come on, don’t play dumb,” Oliver groaned, throwing his head back against the leather seats dramatically. “Mirin? The name ring a bell?”

It did more than ring a bell, actually. It made Sae’s heart stop, made him speechless. Made Otoya snicker at his reaction.

“Thought I’d offer some incentive to cheer you up from that boring loveless marriage of yours,” Oliver commented, tossing a pack of cigarettes onto the table and lighting one up.

If Sae was being completely honest, he did want to see Mirin. He hadn’t seen her for so many years, he found a passing thought that wondered if she was still as pretty as he remembered, if she still scrunched her nose in that cute way she did and if she still used the same perfume that he liked.

But for some reason, Sae kept thinking back to you. What would you think if you found out? Somehow, he realised maybe that fact alone could make you cry. And somehow, for some abstract reason he couldn’t make out, he wasn’t okay with that.

In the background, he could faintly make out the conversation between Otoya and Oliver, something about how Otoya thought Mirin looked hot from her pictures, and how Oliver encouraged the thought, saying shit like “wait till you see her in real life.”

Normally, he’d feel like punching those who dared to talk about Mirin like that, but at that moment all he felt was nausea. In a weird turn of events, he kind of actually wanted to punch Oliver for taking a subtle dig at you. You were a good person. Even if Sae wasn’t particularly innocent at treating you less than you deserve.

Nausea nausea nausea.

It got even worse when seconds later, Karasu strolled through their door, a smirk on his face aimed at Sae.

“She’s in the restroom freshening up,” Karasu said, winking this time, Oliver whistling in anticipation.

His head was in a mess, wanting to bolt out of there straight away but failing to do so in time because the next minute, Sae watched as his first love walked through the door, looking beautiful as ever.

“Wow, four handsome guys in the room with me, huh?”

She’d gotten flirtier than he remembered. And she wasn’t directly talking to him yet, which was a relief for him.

“Yeah darling, wanna help us take a pic?” Oliver smirked, tossing her his phone.

Sae was just in a daze, looking at the camera as Mirin snapped a picture, her eyes lingering over him through the phone. If he wasn’t married, he was sure he would’ve reacted differently, but as things stood, this was wrong.

The moment Oliver suggested Mirin sit next to Sae for a picture, Sae found himself walking towards the door, muttering an excuse about how he had another appointment and leaving.

“Hey Sae, wait up—”

Mirin’s voice was loud and clear as she chased him out the door but Sae was faster. He was back into his car and driving back home, back to you, before he even made sense of it all.

When he walked through the front door, ready to just pass out on the bed because he had too many surprises earlier, he could smell the homemade cooking—the same one that made him feel nice coming home to. It was more prominent than usual.

Of course it was, because he could see the untouched food as he walked past the dining room. You were there, sitting there, a little pathetic but cute, and Sae didn’t really know what to do.

“Why haven’t you eaten?”

And you seemed a little more determined than usual, although the trembling of your fingers said otherwise. You were that easily scared of him?

“I was waiting for you.”

It was a simple thing, really. A wife waiting for her husband to get home first before eating. But to Sae, it was inexplicable. There was never any instance where he had an easy time going home, especially before this. Going home meant listening to his parents argue over money and having to pretend he didn’t hear it and have to watch them take the same stance as though he didn’t just hear their divide. Home-cooked food had lost its meaning for Sae a long time ago when all he had were private chefs cooking with technique and just that.

Since when did going home mean there would be a warm dinner waiting for him with so much effort put into picking out what he liked? Did you pay attention to his takeout whenever he ordered in?

“I already ate.”

There it was—that denial again that Sae just couldn’t seem to get rid of. Because wouldn’t all marriages dissolve into what his parents had without a strong foundation? They never loved each other, that much Sae could tell. For the longest time, he had thought maybe for once, someone could have a happy family if they actually felt the same about each other and for the longest time that person to him was Mirin.

The same girl he ignored earlier. The same girl he brushed past to get home to you. The same girl who didn’t seem to have as much of a hold over him as he thought after he saw her in the flesh.

Maybe that was why he found himself wanting to try. He had rejected you many times, relegating you to the other end of the house so he didn’t have to see you and feel guilty all the time. It was pathetic of him, yeah, and he was sorry. And call him a coward but he didn’t know how to handle any of this like a normal person would. Normal people probably wouldn’t have to be forced to marry a stranger though.

For once in his life, Sae found himself trying. Trying something he was so averse to in the first place. Trying something that he found so curious because you managed to bring it out of him.

Your efforts didn’t have to be big. It was all so small, so subtle. He saw everything and he tried to reject it—so why is he here now, picking the meat off the bones for you? You seemed so nervous he was afraid you might miss a bone and hurt yourself.

Which made no sense because you didn’t mean anything to him. Right?

So why did he feel the familiar tug on his lips, the smile threatening to form just from a simple dinner, the same way you managed to tug on his heartstrings?

When Sae heard you asking him for a favour, he thought you might’ve been joking. But your demeanour suggested you might not be. It was kind of weird, how you claimed that it was your parents who wanted to check up on the marriage and so you said that you needed Sae to cooperate, but at the same time you looked absolutely gleeful at the thought of having some semblance of normalcy in your married life with him.

He did you a favour by not calling you out for it.

But he couldn’t stop himself from being curious, from wondering what you looked like if he really threw you a bone. That was the driving force behind his close proximity to you, so close he could smell the shampoo off your hair and appreciate the way your breath hitched in your throat.

Cute.

He kept that to himself too, kept entirely way too many opinions of you to himself instead of sharing them with you.

“How are they gonna believe a thing when you’re that awkward around me?”

He gave a mental reminder to himself: maybe he should help you work on that.

But the moment you brought up finances, a bad feeling lurked in the back of his head. Just a gut feeling, if anything. Maybe it was because he was brought up in a similar household that he could tell when other people had bad intentions.

Your parents weren’t exempt from it, he was sure. They treated you like trash, from what he heard earlier, and he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to rid what would make your life harder.

You were his wife, after all.

“You want me to… transfer all my money into this account?”

He got it, it was a tough ask. Especially since Sae had been none too nice to you since you got married, but for this one, he was adamant. So you did. You gave him all your money like he asked and he really needed to teach you not to be so naive around other people but maybe you felt the same pull as he did, the overwhelming urge to trust even though it wasn’t so much rightfully earned yet.

Stupidly, he felt just that little bit of excitement creeping up inside him at the notion of actually getting a possibly normal marriage to a perfectly good person until his phone vibrated and he saw the name he was hoping he would never have to deal with again.

Mirin wanted to meet.

And if she had not texted to say it was urgent, Sae probably would’ve ignored it. But they spent a chunk of their youth together and it was way too much for him to forget all in a few days.

Still, he didn’t want to give in so easily.

As the days passed, it was strange how easy it was to warm up to you. It was as though the friction between you never existed in the first place.

Somehow, it felt like the both of you were learning as you went through with it—a marriage where you both were learning to be friends first, and Sae never actually knew how much he needed that, how much he enjoyed it.

He didn’t think he’d like it one bit.

But there he was, constantly texting you most times because you were the only person he didn’t mind speaking to nowadays. Well, you and Rin. Maybe Oliver, but after his last stunt he didn’t really want to speak to him.

Sae sighed as he texted you that he’d be coming home late. The frames already came through the mail anyway, he suspected you’d have a good time hanging the photos up everywhere. You loved taking pictures that day after all.

“Wife checking up on you?”

Mirin’s question sounded innocent, but it was enough to irk Sae. To him, it sounded invasive.

“What did you need?” Because she didn’t need to know anything about you. Sae didn’t want her to; Mirin was in the past and he wanted to make sure it stayed that way.

This entire meeting was set up only because perhaps Sae thought she didn’t warrant herself a bad reception from him. She didn’t do anything wrong.

And neither was he, so why was he afraid to just be upfront with you and tell you about Mirin?

Seemingly taken aback by his tone, Mirin looked away nervously. This was a weird setting to be in for someone who said they were upset. Sae had expected a quiet cafe or maybe even a park, not a restaurant at a five-star hotel.

Then again, this was Mirin. Someone who had been brought up being able to enjoy everything to its finest.

“I just needed a friend, that’s all.”

A sure-fire way to earn his sympathy was right there in front of him. Sure, they might have drifted for a while, but it wasn’t like Sae thought she was a bad person. She always used to be strong on her own, steadfast, never needed anything or anyone that sometimes Sae felt like he wasn’t even needed.

Yet there she was, tears spilling down her face and trying to smile and suddenly Sae couldn’t continue being so harsh anymore.

A friend was all he was going to be. It was all he would allow himself to be. The entire night, all he could think about was how much he had missed this whole time—a lot had changed the last few years. The happy family he once knew Mirin’s to be was no more, an unfaithful mother took care of that. And apparently, her father had been on a downward spiral ever since. It was why she moved back, to take care of him.

“But sometimes it gets to be too much, you know?” She was sobbing, and Sae could only watch helplessly. It was not something he was familiar with, but he knew Mirin—she wasn’t someone who would share something like this to anyone. The fact she had called him out of the blue would allude to the fact that she didn’t want to tell anyone else.

It was a lot for him to take in; just imagining being in her shoes, having a father who spiralled into nothing and refused to get back to work, having to take care of him while managing her own shit—Sae didn’t know if he would be that filial at all, but then again, his father was a lot less of one than hers was.

“Anyway,” she sniffled, wiping her tears away and trying to smile. “How’s married life? Y/N, is it?”

Sae cleared his throat, realising that he probably had offered no words to Mirin’s predicament. It was a weird thing, talking to your ex about your current wife. It made him feel like he really shouldn’t be here somehow. “Yeah, that’s her, and it’s great.”

He wasn’t even going to bother masking the awkwardness of the subject.

And Mirin wasn’t going to let up.

“Is she… good to you?”

Good was an understatement. Sae thought you were phenomenal. You didn’t harbour any ill intentions toward him even though he deserved it. You didn’t treat him any harsher like he did you. You were an angel among the living and he should have been grovelling for someone like you but instead you’d been served on a silver platter and Sae knew all of that now.

The difference between how he would’ve treated Mirin before and after you appeared was enough proof of what, or who, he really wanted.

“She’s the best,” he answered honestly, and he felt just slightly bad when Mirin’s expression dropped. Something told him that she was expecting something else. That was when Sae felt the need to draw the line. “And I don’t think she would appreciate it if she knew I was out with… you.”

Across the table, Mirin shifted in her seat, visibly uncomfortable with his tone. She recognised it; it was when he was about to break some bad news. It was always directed to someone else but never to her.

“Listen, I’m sorry you’re going through all of this, really I am,” Sae started, averting his gaze because he wasn’t actually good with words—but if he intended for this to be goodbye, then he had to. “But I don’t think it would be a good idea if we met alone anymore.”

On Mirin’s end, she didn’t want to give up. Sae had been the better part of her youth and she didn’t want to give up their entire relationship or friendship or whatever it is to some girl who had been unknown to her until she got back and realised Karasu had been invited to the wedding and not her. That must’ve been you, was it not?

So she had to play this smart. She had to, to keep this thinning line of relation between her and Sae. As long as it was still there, there had to be a shot for her, right?

“No, you’re right, I’d feel bad too, I just… I didn’t have anyone to turn to recently and—”

“It’s fine,” Sae cut in, mainly because he didn’t want to have to hear her voice break anymore. It was clear cut in his head what they couldn’t be, what he didn’t want them to be anymore. Because he wanted that with you, or at least try at it. “I know Karasu’s been busy lately what with owning his first hotel and all but… Oliver’s a pretty good listener once you get to know him more, and Otoya… you know what, just stick with Oliver—he’s a better guy than he seems. And his family’s full of lawyers too so you guys might have a lot in common.”

Mirin could feel her whole world breaking into pieces right in front of her but there was no such thing as defeat in her dictionary. All she had to do was retreat and come back twice as strong, otherwise she might lose Sae for good.

So she nodded, as though she cared for who or what his friends could do for her. Sae was the only one she wanted to be around—that night at the karaoke room was just a failed attempt, that was all.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll take your word for it,” Mirin smiled through her pain, fingers fisting at the hem of her dress. He didn’t even bother to compliment her tonight, or say anything of substance. This was not the Sae she knew, and she wanted to bring him back.

That was why, that night when she got back home (and she was absolutely miserable at how Sae didn’t even offer to drive her back, instead just staying with her until she hailed a cab), she used everything at her family’s disposal to find out more about you. You and your family and Mirin wouldn’t stop until she found out what could possibly make you break.

If there was something Sae would want answers to, it was how he went from having not a single care in the world to give you, to giving you more than he ever even gave himself. He didn’t know if it even seemed that way to you, but it was.

After he got back that night, it was as though you’d constructed a wall between the both of you. Sae could feel you pulling away a little, and he didn’t know why—all he knew was that he didn’t want you to drift. He hadn’t even gotten that close yet, and he wanted to know more about you.

Was it a crime that he couldn’t express himself properly?

It was unfathomable how he was here in the kitchen in the middle of the day, trying to cook dinner for when you got back from meeting Reo. He frowned a little just upon remembering that. Was this jealousy? Only because he was sure by the way Reo was looking at you on your wedding day that there were some hidden feelings there.

On his part, for sure. For you? Sae couldn’t be sure. He could only hope not.

But he wouldn’t discount you from getting a divorce when he saw the mess he ended up making in the kitchen, especially that charcoal-stained wall behind the stove.

Fuck, was he really this bad at anything related to maintaining the household?

Fish was cooked to fuck so he couldn’t serve that anymore. Chicken got burnt on the grill because Sae couldn’t tell when it was done for the life of him. The only thing that was left was the soup and it was still boiling on the stove so at least not all was lost.

At that moment, Sae felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and immediately picked it up, moving himself to the balcony in case you got home early.

“Oliver, find anything out?”

Over the line, Oliver scoffed. “Saw the dad going to the bank, think he went to take whatever was in his safe deposit box. Mother was there too.”

Through the phone, Sae could still tell Oliver was smoking. He still remembered how much smoke would fill his car whenever he rode with him. There was a long pause as Sae tried to gather his thoughts.

“So, Itoshi Sae had a change of heart, huh?” Oliver’s teasing voice rang loud over the line.

Sae rolled his eyes, somewhat regretting asking the guy for a favour.

“What about Mirin? Still ditching her all the time?”

Sae wouldn’t call it ditching. He just… kept rejecting every single time she’d ask him out. Sure, she kept it in line with what he had told her last time, which was to not hang out alone, but Sae didn’t necessarily hang out together in a group either.

“You know, she—”

“Don’t care,” Sae interjected.

“Oh? Really? What if—”

“Don’t wanna hear anything about her, if you don’t mind.” And he was being completely honest. Sure, she kept responding to his stories and he was being nice by giving them a reaction, and sometimes she kept trying to text him although he barely gave any good responses—but that was the extent of their friendship right now, as far as Sae would allow it.

Oliver chuckled through the phone, hands up in surrender even though no one would see it. “Fine, have it your way.”

“Just tell me if you find anything else,” Sae muttered, completely exhausted from having to deal with anything related to Mirin and for once, Oliver was surprised.

“Aye aye, sir,” Oliver murmured sarcastically before hanging up.

The Sae he knew before you would never be caught dead trying to push Mirin away. Sighing, Oliver drove away, losing sight of your parents from his rearview mirror.

“Just don’t say I didn’t try to warn you, Sae.”

Maybe the tickets his parents gave him to celebrate the honeymoon in Korea was a huge blessing in disguise. From looking at you being excited all through the airport just because everyone had been calling you Mrs Itoshi and Sae had been addressing you as his wife, to actually landing in Incheon airport and watching you hop like a child—he thought maybe your earlier distance was just a phase.

Until, of course, you suggested that you both do solo trips.

To which Sae had been mostly deadpan, but not because he didn’t care—more like he was stumped. This was a honeymoon. For the both of you. Was this you trying to push him away? And if so, what for?

So Sae wasn’t going to let that get in the way. He didn’t outright reject your idea. But he could go along with it. You could go wherever you wanted to go, and Sae would tag along behind you.

He wasn’t going to let you wander around solo when you were supposed to spend time enjoying this foreign place together. And Mirin was especially not going to be able to guilt trip him into entertaining her while he was there by using their old plans against him.

When he tried to be her friend and texted her back with actual words for once, Mirin had somehow steered the entire conversation into dangerous territory; like how Mirin had once told Sae she wanted to visit Korea with him someday and that she asked if it was too much to still want to go.

Of course, he had said Oliver would be more than happy to take her there (to which she had sent a sad face that he happily ignored). Still, it sucked when he was trying to find a balance between being a friend and learning to be a good husband.

So there he was, following you around shamelessly even though he knew you kept looking behind to make sure that he was, in fact, actually following you. Sometimes it was hard to keep his snicker in. You looked half in shock yet half relieved.

It was more enjoyable with you than he thought it would be. He had absolutely zero expectations, especially when he had heard so much about knowing people’s true nature once you go on a trip with them—but you were more than fine.

Sae was starting to silently thank his parents for forcing you together. He got to see your smiles way up close, and it was nice to keep you close to him, and he liked the way you smelled that he memorised your perfume when you went in to that makeup store earlier.

That was why when night came and the both of you got back to the hotel, Sae had been more than a little regretful that he had asked the staff to prepare an extra mattress. Was it bad he wanted to sleep with you?

In the end, he only shook his head and vanquished the question from his head. He didn’t want to risk making you too uncomfortable.

“It’s nothing, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Sae.”

And he watched as you walked away, wondering if your disappointment was all in his head.

The next few days of the honeymoon went well—until a flurry of notifications popped up while the two of you were playing on his phone; Oliver’s personal important ones mixed with Mirin’s loud ones in the group chat. He didn’t give one shit about the latter, but Oliver’s is what he couldn’t let you see. Not yet, anyway, when it was just based on a hunch.

“Hey Oliver, what is it?”

“They’re definitely fishy, my guy said they’d been moving money around, no idea where though.”

Sae spent that entire evening theorising with Oliver on what it could be—and by the time he came back in, you’d passed out in your bed, probably exhausted from walking too much that day. Somehow, it felt rewarding to be able to tuck you in, and maybe it was greedy but he kissed you lightly on the forehead before he shut the lights.

Yeah, he’d definitely protect you, no matter what.

But there was something he couldn’t understand somehow, when he thought everything was going fine—why were you distancing yourself again?

The last few days of the trip felt wrong, and especially the last night when he could hear you sniffling through the door. It worried him more than he was when it was Mirin, and if that wasn’t enough proof to himself that you were slowly becoming irreplaceable in his life then he didn’t know what was.

That was why he gave in and called the only person he knew who could help—Reo. No matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, after being your best friend your whole life, he would probably know best. Sustaining his own ego came last to him when it involved you.

“You better not have done something wrong to Y/N or I swear to god—”

“Hello to you too, Reo.”

Reo sighed, and Sae didn’t blame his hostile tone. You probably confided in him for everything and Sae was undoubtedly one of those things.

“So? What is it?” The purple-haired one’s reluctance to speak to Sae showed, and Sae had to swallow every bit of pride down because he had to ask.

Turned out, Reo was more than willing to share. Only because it was for you, he said. And Sae suddenly felt like an ass for feeling a pang of jealousy. Reo knew you in certain emotionally intimate ways that Sae had yet to learn; he knew what you wanted people to do when you were in different moods, he knew how you wanted to be treated.

That was why Sae couldn’t help himself.

“Reo, are you in love with Y/N?” Sae chose your name instead of calling you his wife—there was a part of him that felt possessiveness in this sense would make him sound like more of a douche than he already seemed to be.

“Relax, I’m not gonna steal her from you or anything,” he laughed, although Sae noted he didn’t answer the question. “But… just letting you know, she has a ton of other options.”

After Reo hung up, Sae stared at the open chat thread on his screen. A picture of you and Reo, making it seem like the two of you were kissing, sent to Sae from an anonymous number. More than questionable, and Sae had tiny specks of doubt before now—wasn’t it natural to be sceptical in situations like these? But now he knew it was stupid. It was stupid because if not Reo, then he should know you enough to trust you wouldn’t do such a thing.

Same as Sae.

Maybe there were things you weren’t ready to tell each other, but now you had the rest of your lives to do so. Sae sure as hell wanted to keep you for that long at the least. So that night he found himself promising you that he would stay, because it was the honest truth. He would stick by you no matter what. After all, he fell in love with you before he even knew it.

And maybe one day, he’ll have the guts to say it.

Just when Sae thought he had had enough troubles for a while, what with your parents showing him their true colours (whether you caught on to it or not)—life threw him another curveball. One in the form of his old flame, casually showing up at his doorstep even though he never once told her the address.

“Mirin? What are you doing here?”

And she was wearing that same old face of hers, the sad one, the one that looked like she was just seconds away from breaking. Normally Sae would entertain her like he did that one night, for old times’ sake, but he was beginning to feel bad intentions and this—his ex-girlfriend being in the house you two shared—was definitely something you would object to.

Instead of waiting for an invitation like a normal person, she barged in past Sae, helping herself to a seat by the island, head in her hands.

“I didn’t know where else to go, it’s just been getting worse,” Mirin was sniffling at that point, and Sae knew he was going to feel like a total ass, but he had to do what he had to do. She had mistaken his question as one of concern.

“I actually got an errand to run, so,” Sae lied through his teeth, dressed in a random oversized white tee and black shorts, though that didn’t stop him. He was genuinely sick and frankly, he was growing sick and tired of having to deal with someone who didn’t respect boundaries.

“Huh?”

“I gotta leave in a minute,” he muttered, going into the bedroom to grab a coat and his keys, slipping on his shoes afterwards at the entrance before turning to look up at Mirin. “Do… you wanna stay in here alone?”

Stumped, Mirin took a few seconds to form a proper response. “Um, no no, how about I run that errand with you? Two is better than one, right?” She was still smiling brightly, almost oblivious to Sae’s attitude.

Two was definitely not better than one, especially since all Sae intended to do was to drive around the block and come back when she was gone.

“Nah, it’s a personal matter, and I’m already late,” he said, sauntering out the front door, Mirin barely trailing behind before the door closed.

Once they were in the lift, Sae caught Mirin sidling up next to him, and he had to exaggerate his coughing just to get her to distance herself. As the icing on top of the cake, he turned on his phone screen just to let her see the wallpaper he put of the both of you back in Korea, that picture where the both of you dressed up in front of the palace. Just to make sure she knew where his head was at.

“Need me to call you a cab home?” He asked, because he would—anything to get her out of here because Sae just didn’t want to give her any space in his life right now.

Of course, Sae knew Mirin well enough to know she was probably seething inside because she came all this way for nothing, but she masked it with a smile. “No it’s fine, I’ll help myself.”

True to her word, she did. Sae watched the cab turn down the other side of the road through his side mirror, and he was relieved more than anything. To think, just months ago he would’ve given anything to have her back in his life.

In the cab, Mirin’s tears weren’t those of upset, but more towards those of contempt. Just what kind of a spell did you have Sae under that he would treat her, the love of his life, so cruelly? To her, you could never be perfect, not for Sae. Because it was her. He told her so, once upon a time. In fact, how dare you get the dream honeymoon with Sae that she always wanted?

And even though she didn’t get much time with him today (because of course he was still acting up), she smiled to herself as she scrolled through her photos. She got what she came for, at least. A few pictures she took, both before and when Sae came out of the room.

Swiftly, Mirin went to her profile and posted a story—anything that seemed suspect enough would be fine. All she needed was a little luck and for the universe to propel you to look at her profile. Creating misunderstandings would just be the building block of you and Sae’s downfall, and then everything else would be easy peasy. Sae wouldn’t even stop her anyway—he unfollowed her a while ago. Whatever.

Yeah, everything would go her way just like it always did. Making Sae pine for her for so long couldn’t possibly be erased by someone such as yourself. Besides, if all else failed, Mirin already found out what she needed to about your family. If all else failed, she’d make sure to take you down.

Was it all in his head?

You seemed a little more inquisitive than usual, and it looked like you were biting your tongue. Did you have something to say that you were afraid to?

“You can tell me anything if you ever need to, okay?” It was more to assure you that nothing you could ask him would ever be too much or too invasive because he honestly didn’t know what it could be—but you didn’t take it.

Was it a sensitive subject?

The entire time you were gone, he spent his time at home ignoring Oliver’s calls and mulling over the decision in his head; the decision to tell you everything that was going on with Mirin. It was getting too much, and he couldn’t tell what was going on in her head anymore—it was like he never knew her.

And… he owed you that, at the very least. You had been nothing but an angel to him, and you’d never been petty or vindictive and you were perfect. Just perfect.

Despite being surrounded by people like Oliver and Otoya who wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about it if they were in his shoes, and being brought up by people who lacked any sort of love for either of their sons, Sae knew that he had to tell you before it was too late. Before Mirin started sinking her claws into you and drove you crazy—being how she was right now, he wouldn’t put it past her to do that. Call it a gut feeling.

If she could just show up wherever she wanted impulsively, plus the amount of information she could get her hands on thanks to her father’s contacts, who knew what else she could do?

But speak of the devil and it shall show up at your door, because minutes later, instead of opening the door to your beautiful face and warm smile, Sae got only a sinister feeling.

“What do you want?”

This time, he didn’t bother hiding his disdain for seeing her anymore. She had been proving time and time again that she was only out for herself, and that was not the person Sae once loved.

She may as well be a stranger now.

Her frown lined her features, the furrow of her brows more defined than ever. Her expression was halfway between disbelief and upset. “Are you really going to treat me this way, Sae?”

“I thought we could still be friends, and that was stupid of me,” Sae said, being openly honest with her for once. “But we can’t.”

With her hand on the door as he tried to close it on her, Mirin was determined to keep it open. She wasn’t about to come all the way here for nothing again. Besides, she’d been posting conspicuously for days—surely now was a good time as ever to drive the wedge deeper between the two of you?

“Why? Because your petty wife won’t let us?”

Sae had never had to force his voice down as much as he had to right now. “Don’t you… ever say anything against her.” He turned on his heels, ready to get his coat and force her out of there until he heard the familiar clack of her heels storming in after him.

“You’re not seriously choosing that second-rate over me?” She spat, fists clenched at her sides, her purse thrown on the floor.

Silence was all he could give her because nothing that would come out of his mouth would be merciful. You were the most innocent of all and yet your name was getting dragged through the mud just because Mirin couldn’t wake up and realise that she was the only reason they drifted in the first place.

“Get out.” Soft. Simple. There was nothing else Sae had to say to her.

Mirin shook her head, adamant on seeing this conversation through to the end. She wasn’t going to leave until she got what she wanted. “You’ve seriously got a screw loose if you’re choosing that cheating whore over me.”

Sae’s head whipped over to glare at her, his self-control coming in extra handy tonight. He narrowed his gaze, the realisation dawning upon him.

“You were the one who sent that picture of her with Reo, weren’t you?” A redundant question; he didn’t need her to answer.

Judging by the triumphant smirk on her face, she didn’t need to say a thing. “Oh, I have a lot more where that came from,” she chuckled, sounding a lot like a villain out of a fairytale. Slowly, she inched closer to him, “come on, if she can have her fun, we can have ours, can’t we?”

Lunging forward, her lips connected with his as she caught him off guard, her arms wrapped around his neck, taking him a few seconds to pry off. Sae wasn’t even spared a second before she tried again, but he swerved this time, and she could only scoff.

“Are you fucking nuts?”

“I’d be careful with how you speak to me if I were you,” she threatened, and Sae was about to offer a rebuttal until she took her purse and shoved some documents in his hand. “This is what you had Oliver investigate, right?”

Sae swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked over them. It wasn’t what he asked of Oliver. This was way more in depth and way more messy than Sae had thought it was. There must’ve been an ongoing investigation that he wasn’t aware of. Either way, how did she—

“It was easy enough to steal it from him,” Mirin mused, straightening up. “It wasn’t his fault, I nicked it while he was asleep.”

Sae didn’t even want to think about the context of that situation. What was even more perplexing was how proud she sounded of it.

Taking a deep breath, he collected himself, making sure to hold onto the documents. Mirin grinned slightly, realising his intentions. “Don’t worry, I made sure to make copies,” she told him, winking.

“What do you want?”

“To talk. About everything. Or else I call for an official investigation into that.”

On one side, Sae felt that everything that had to be said was already said and done. On the other, Mirin wanted so desperately to hold onto the only thing she had been sure of at one point in her life that nothing was going to stop her.

It wasn’t like he had a choice—there was no way he was going to let her storm through your life like that. If there was a chance he could talk some sense into her, he had to try.

“Fine, give me a minute.”

Retreating to the bathroom to wash his face and get her damned lipstick stain off—something he no doubt would have to tell you about later because this has blown way out of proportion—he was almost done until he heard Mirin introducing herself and his heart sank.

Fuck, were you back already?

It wasn’t hard to tell you were completely taken aback by Mirin’s presence in the house. And if Sae had his way, he would tell you everything right here and right now but with the knowledge she held over your family, he wasn’t sure it was a wise idea to tip her over the edge right now. Her threat still loomed over him.

Sae hated how she could take advantage of the situation and just make it seem even more suspicious—just how long had she been at this? He really should’ve just warned you about Mirin a long time ago.

“Do you trust me?”

“I don’t know, Sae. Can I?” For the first time, there was nothing but crisp coldness in your voice.

It stays with him even after he leaves, even when he follows Mirin to the bridge overlooking the waterfront. He’s decided; after tonight, there will not be any ties between him or Mirin, not after he actually witnessed how toxic she could get.

“This is far enough,” Sae tells her, stopping himself right before the row of shophouses that line the underside of the bridge. “What do you want from me?”

Mirin chuckles helplessly, caught between knowing everything she’s doing is futile and wanting to try anyway. “Are you kidding me, Sae?” The tears are already streaming down her face, and Sae is mostly just in awe of how quick she can go from menacing to heartbroken. “What do you think?”

He’s more than aware that there are a lot of unresolved things between the two of them—but that doesn’t change the fact that what Mirin wants, he can’t provide her with anymore. His silence is indicative enough that she can’t get her way no matter what she does. But in the face of someone she’s wanted her whole life, in the face of the only person she’s ever truly been genuine with in this lifetime, she finds that she can’t just accept that.

“You can’t tell me that I mean nothing to you,” Mirin murmurs, and it’s so quiet that Sae wonders if he was even meant to hear it.

On a normal day, Sae would feel sorry for her. They used to be a pair of lovebirds who planned out nearly their whole life together a long time ago. But she lost that right, she lost his sympathy the moment she started being exactly like her mother and trying to tamper with your life.

But maybe his hostility wasn’t a good way to deal with her, looking at all the backlash she’s caused, so Sae tries a different approach this time, even if he’s not particularly in the mood to be nice to her after all the trouble she’s caused.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” It’s partly true. Even if he didn’t do anything in particular, he imagines it must’ve been a shock to her when she came back to Japan and the guy who had claimed to want to wait for her had suddenly been married off. (But he wasn’t sorry for throwing her invitation away—to a certain extent, he felt that you didn’t deserve your future husband having such a distraction in the crowd. At the time.)

“Sae, I know you still love me, I know we can work this out, okay? Just give it a shot. Leave her and we can—”

“I can’t do that,” Sae cuts in, sighing because this is the few times in his life that his inability to express himself has led to inconveniences of this magnitude.

“Why? Whatever she or your parents have on you I’ll—”

“No, Mirin, I can’t because I love her,” Sae says, looking Mirin in the eyes and breaking her heart all over again. But he’d do anything for you, and right now all he wants is to go back to you. He wants to be with you and hear your cute laugh and tease you because you’re all he can ever think about nowadays. “I’m sorry but… I love my wife, and I’m not going to leave her, or let anything happen to her.”

Maybe it’s the absolute vulnerability that she can hear in his voice that makes her believe it. Sae doesn’t say things like that so easily, and maybe it’s the way she can see his eyes tearing up that she can tell it’s genuine no matter how much she doesn’t want it to be. He’s worried and in love and feeling overwhelmed. But Mirin’s not in the right state of mind and she fights back instead of admitting defeat.

“What about promising you’d wait for me, huh? What happened to that?”

By now, Mirin’s airing all her grievances, and Sae understands that enough to let it slide.

“I did, but we grew apart, didn’t we? You dated other guys, refused to try with me while I was still…” He avoids saying it.

“All the things we said we’d do together once we could finally have time to ourselves! Travelling, raising pets, picking out a house and going furniture shopping together, building a family because ours sucked,” she’s sobbing and Sae has to ignore the stares they’re getting from the few people that pass by.

“I still want that—”

“Then why—”

“With my wife.” He emphasises on this, and he’ll repeat it as many times as he needs to. “With Y/N. Her, and no one else.”

It’s his absolute indifference towards Mirin that jars her, because in this world, he was the only one she could count on, and now even that was gone. And right now, all she feels is hatred for you, for the one who stole him from right under her nose.

“Even if I tell you I’ll raze her whole family to the ground?” Mirin threatens with a scowl, igniting the combativeness inside of him.

Sae scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment. Nothing is going to get through to her. Not like this. He stuffs his hands in his pocket, “you can try, but I’ll be right there defending her with everything I got.”

Those teal eyes that used to look at her softly than they had anything else, his soft locks that she could once twirl her fingers through—they now belonged to you. They belong to you and they’re slipping away from her as Sae deigns to say any sort of goodbye, instead just walking off in silence as he tries to get back to you.

Ignoring Mirin’s cries of his name and the threats she’s hurling, he tries to call your phone but you’re not picking up—and that’s enough to make him run.

You’re not in the apartment, and some of your things are gone and since when did he even start to take notice of small little things like your favourite face towel that hangs on the side of the sink or your trusty furry headband that you liked to use hung beside the mirror? Those small little things are missing and for once, Sae’s afraid.

“Come on, pick up pick up,” Sae mutters under his breath as he drives around the neighbourhood, hoping he’d catch you somewhere. He ignores the string of calls he gets from Karasu, only to call him back when he gets a text: oi, pick up, idiot. your wife just booked a room here, you guys ok?

Thank god for coincidences like this or else Sae would’ve spent the entire time you were away wallowing in agony (silently).

It’s easy enough to find you after that, his feet running the most it has in a while—his ankles hurt and his knees feel weak, especially where they’re injured, but you’re worth every injury he has to make. And his heart does somersaults when he finally lays eyes on you, but then it plummets to the ground when he hears the word divorce.

Minutes later you’re running away from him, and he chases after you again—he’ll chase you however long he has to because this is all one big misunderstanding and he has to clear it up because he needs you in his life. Right now and forever. Just like he vowed to you on your wedding day.

The entire night has been a rollercoaster of emotions, and it was naive of Sae to think it was done because the next thing he knows, he sees Mirin throw a half-empty cup of yoghurt at you (along with her vile insults), and your face is absolutely dazed.

Shit. This is all his fault and he’s really, really sorry to you.

WHERE WE LEFT OFF

The walk back to your hotel suite is deafeningly silent.

Subtle lavender fills your noses as you enter the hotel lobby, though you can’t get the smell of greek yoghurt out of your nostrils.

You wonder where Karasu took Mirin to.

Not that you care about her. You just want to make sure you don’t see her. If you do, you might actually slap her.

You’re not sure if you want to try and fight her lawyers. Not sure if you want to give her reason to lord over you. At least, not as much as she did you.

When you enter the lift, you realise that Sae’s been unrelentingly close to you. His arms always brush against yours because he won’t leave so much as a gap between the two of you. Like he wants to catch you if you run.

Not in the creepy way, though. Not to you.

His hair is still slightly matted to his face; must’ve been the result of chasing after you. You’re a little perplexed, and you’re a little strict with yourself—you can’t back down later when you’re questioning him, and you have to remind yourself of this.

Because this marriage isn’t surviving another day if you don’t understand their… relationship.

Surely you’re not just being completely illiterate, right?

From what you’d been told, Sae and Mirin were each other’s first loves. That isn’t what you’re pressed about though, because he could so easily think the same about you and Reo, if the roles were reversed. What you are still pressed about is whether Sae’s intentions still hold true: is he still waiting for her? For the right time to be with her?

His earlier confession still repeats itself in your head. It could just as easily be a complete lie. You don’t want to hold onto it for fear of being disappointed.

Sae had been waiting for Mirin before the arranged marriage thwarted his plans. He had refused to give you any sort of acknowledgement as his actual wife until, well, your honeymoon, you guess. And even then, you still saw Mirin talking to him. Even then, he had to make suspicious calls in the night.

The worst part is when you saw her happily posting in your house. In the apartment where it’s supposed to be for you and your husband yet your husband and his former lover were in there when you were out working.

The moment you enter the suite, you toss his coat on top of one of the chairs and retreat to the bathroom, more than eager to change out of your Mirin-stained clothes.

Your husband’s waiting awkwardly outside the bathroom door by the time you get out, hands in his pockets, sheepishly averting his gaze as though he has the right to be the one acting nervous right now.

He takes a seat beside you on the bed, although you want nothing more than to just have time to yourself right now. On Sae’s part, he’s usually an advocate for this. He would’ve let you be alone any other time but right now. Because he feels that if he lets you, he’d lose you.

And this is selfishness in a way he hasn’t experienced and he doesn’t know why but he knows that he needs you with him.

“How many times?”

Sae finds himself stumped at your question. Your voice is quivering, but you’re trying to stand your ground. “Of what?”

For a change, you’re the one with the firm, demanding voice and he’s the one sounding meek. But for all your hostility, you still let him hold your hand. It makes Sae want to hold onto hope.

“How many times have you cheated on me?”

“What?”

He’s anticipated many things from you, many questions about his history and why you saw him the way you did earlier that night, but consider him stumped when he heard the words fly out of your mouth.

Cheating?

Have you been in agony over such a question all this time?

And suddenly he feels an overwhelming amount of guilt wash over him. Sure, he’s known that he would be bad at these things, at communicating when it’s not a sport, at understanding your feelings, at being a damn husband in a marriage that he initially loathed. But he didn’t know it would be this bad, that he would’ve made you feel this insecure.

Right now, you’re seething, and rightfully so because he must’ve done so many things wrong to make you think that way, to make you feel so sure of it too.

You’re still waiting for an answer, fists clenched at your side, the familiar mirth in your expression that Sae’s grown used to is tucked away safely in a place you don’t want him to reach.

“Well? Tell me, because I don’t want a marriage where I’m constantly a second choice. How many times have you—”

“I didn’t, I swear.”

The words come out of him in a hurry; there’s a flurry of emotions inside him, mainly one of fear—since when did he become afraid to lose you? It wasn’t something he was consciously aware of and yet it’s surfacing right now. He doesn’t want you to think that way anymore, that he’d do anything behind your back that would far disgrace your status as his wife.

It takes you a while to collect your thoughts, because Sae can see your shoulders relaxing, your fists unclenching. Your brows are furrowed, and he knows it’s because you’re afraid to just trust him. With good reason.

“How can I believe that?”

Your voice has lost its earlier edge, and now all that remains is the fragments of your hope—hope that somehow you can make it through this. Together.

Sae takes a step forward, daring to pull you into his arms, his mind filled with just you you you. Like it has been for a bulk of the time recently.

“I’ll tell you what you wanna know, anything.” He’s aware it doesn’t come close to the damages done, but he’ll try. He’ll try for the rest of his life if he has to.

“Everything. Tell me everything.”

And everything it was.

Sae answered everything you wanted him to, no holds barred. Mostly it was everything about Mirin, because that’s what’s been bugging you the most. And it was a lot. Somehow, you believe him, every single word.

He was stupid for keeping it to himself, yes. But you kept Reo and that picture to yourself too, and maybe you can understand why he had initially been afraid to say anything.

You’re both sitting on the bed, facing each other, Sae’s voice nearly cracking from all the talking he’s been doing. His hand slowly reaches out to yours, the tension in his shoulders letting go when your fingers grasp onto his. Can he take that to mean you don’t completely hate him?

“I’m really, really sorry,” Sae says, softly, gazing at the mattress because he still doesn’t even know if he deserves your acceptance. “I really do love you, Y/N, and I don’t want a…” divorce.

Is it because you’re too nice that you already want to forgive him? It’s all just a domino effect that got way too big. Still, you can’t make this a habit, so you stand your ground.

“I just… I want this to be a marriage where we can be open and completely honest with one another,” you say, lost in your thoughts, knowing that you’re not completely innocent yourself, and ashamed even more to know that Sae had known about the misleading picture of you and Reo all along yet choosing to trust you wholeheartedly anyway. “But I think there’s a lot of work we both need to do.”

Sae takes it hopefully. “Then we’ll do it, together,” he tells you, and it’s hard not to smile at how genuine he’s being.

But before either of you can say much else, there’s a quiet knock at the door.

“I’ll get it,” Sae offers, walking to the door and sighing once he looks through the peephole. He’s ready to ignore until the knocks come again. Opening the door, he sees a slightly timid Mirin. “We don’t have anything else to say to each other.”

Mirin doesn’t even look at him, just gazes past him at nothing. “I didn’t come to talk to you,” she says, before her gaze lands on you. “I came here to talk to her.”

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#bllk x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x reader #sae x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #itoshi sae imagines #sae x you #itoshi sae #blue lock x you #૪ aeri’s fics !

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webslingingslasher · 2 years ago

Note

could you do angst -> fluff?

you and peter are long distance. someone sends you a picture of "peter" cheating. but the picture isn't peter.

Long distance relationships sucked.

You may be biased, but you knew that long term relationships were the worst of them all. You’d put that in the same category as finding out you’ve been catfished for years.

It could be worse, like Sadie and Dylan. Dylan moved across the country for school and watching your roommate go through the process of trying to set up date facetime calls, and scheduling calls between the hours of the night, made you feel like you didn’t have any say about yours.

At least you and Peter were in the same time zone, he was only an hour and a half train ride away but it felt like lifetimes when for years you shared a school and zip code. You always had Peter around, and it’s very noticeable when he’s not.

Imagine not being able to kiss your lover everyday, hold their body, or look in their eyes.

Sadie smiled empathetically when Peter called, she got up to leave the room empty. Many times you’ve gotten out of bed at three am for a long bathroom break, you know that there are some things you tell Peter you’d never want anyone else to hear. You could extend that to Sadie as well.

Peter’s voice was warm through the phone.

“Hiya, baby.”

You bit your bottom lip, too excited to keep it in.

“Hi, handsome.”

“Tell me three things from your day.”

You paused to think, you knew this question would come up, you made a mental note of what to tell Peter.

“So, the fat squirrel by park hall attacked this guy for his sandwich, and I know what you’re thinking, but that squirrel is fucking vicious. And, hm…”

Peter shuffles around on his end.

“Oh! My English professor is letting us have open notes midterm, and finally… I really, really missed you.”

Peter gives you a soft chuckle, you wish you could see his face too.

“I missed you too, also that fat squirrel? Next time I come down I wanna see him in person, pictures don’t do it justice.”

When he comes down, he hasn’t visited in a month. Not that you can’t go see him, you make sure to take trips but he also has his aunt here, and he tries to do Spidey in the city as much as he can to keep questions to a minimum.

“Two more, petey.”

He hums on the line, you miss feeling his chest vibrate when he does it against your back.

“I ate a salad for lunch,”

“Bullshit.” You cough on the line.

“Okay, listen here, stinky.”

“Shots fired! I’ll hang up right now.”

Peter whines, “you can’t! I have to tell you my third thing.”

“Go on, I have a call to finish.”

He scoffs, “rude, I was going to say that I may have found an out for my robotics midterm so hypothetically-”

You squeal so loudly on the phone Peter pulls his own away from his ear, it was slightly obnoxious but knowing you were just as excited to see him made his heart melt.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!”

Peter gives you that boyish laugh, the one that makes your heart beat three times fast.

“Baby, I didn’t even finish.”

“You don’t have to! I know what you’re saying and I need you here so I can kiss your face and other stuff.”

Peter’s tone drops seductively, “oh? Like what other stuff?”

“You want to see the fat squirrel right?”

“The one in my pants?”

“Oh my god.”

“Okay, okay, so I was thinking I could come up on-”

His name was called in the background, it made you pause for a second, he stopped talking for a minute. His name was called again, it was tilted, like a song almost, it was a female for sure.

“Oh, peteyyy?”

Your stomach dropped, that was your name for him. The name that he only liked you calling him, it was something that was so sacred and this person you don’t know saying it so loosely, like it’s regular.

“Pete?” You say his name like you’re asking ‘who’s that?’ ‘why is she calling you that?’ ‘where are you, are you in your dorm?’ ‘why is there a girl in your room calling you my name?’

He coughs, “sorry, baby. I uh, I need to go but I’ll call you in a few hours, okay?”

“Oh. Oka-”

The line went dead.

Your mind swimmed with dangerous thoughts, each one simmered down with the overwhelming echo that peter would never do anything like what a part of you is insinuating. Not to mention you were sure that he’d explain everything when he called you in a few hours, except when you sat around and waited, and waited, and waited, he never called.

You fell asleep waiting on his call, you woke up with your morning alarm and checked your phone, no missed calls or texts. It felt weird, he never missed goodnight calls. It wasn’t until ten he tried to call, you had to ignore it because of your class but made a note to call him on your way back to your room.

At lunch everything shifted.

You and some friends met up in the dining hall and you were in the middle of scarffing down fries when you tried to look up your friends ex’s new girlfriend on instagram, you were confronted with a message request. The picture and text made your hand fall, french fries scattering, you felt like you were about to puke all over the table.

“I’m pretty sure you’re peter's girlfriend, we shared a class last semester and he talked about you all the time. I was out with some friends last night and I’m pretty sure I saw him at a bar with a girl that doesn’t look like you. If this isn’t him or if you guys aren’t together anymore please ignore this, idk i’d want someone to tell me. I’m sorry :(“

Sure enough the picture was grainy, definitely zoomed in from across the bar but it sure did look like him. A plaid button down you’ve seen him a million times in before, curls poked out the sides of his head, it seemed curlier and longer than you remember but it’s been a while since you saw him in person.

His left arm was looped around the waist of a girl totally opposite of you, it looked like his other hand held her face steady as he kissed her. It made your vision go blurry, you’ve never felt this way before. Curls blocked the side of his face but it looked like him, maybe he looked taller than normal but it was a pic taken from far away, you want to question everything about it but the longer you look at it the sicker you feel.

You shut out of the app and go back to smiling with your friends, you wonder how you’ll call him out. If you were strong enough you’d just ghost him all together, never speak to him again and make him question his insanity.

Instead the second he called when you were home you picked it up with shaky hands.

“Hi ba-”

“We’re done.”

You hung up the phone.

It rang less than three seconds later.

“I’m sorry, what did you-”

“I said we’re done. Goodbye.”

You hung up again.

It rang even quicker, immediate redial.

“Is this a joke?”

“I dunno, peter. Am I?”

“I-”

“Save it, it doesn’t matter. We’re broken up, you can stop calling.”

You don’t know why you thought that would settle things, if anything that made everything worse.

The fourth time he facetimed, he only did it when he was alone, you assume he either kicked his roommate out or is biting the bullet to get teased by his friend for the rest of his life while he begs to keep his girlfriend.

You answer, “what.”

“I need to see your face, what are you telling me?”

“What did you do last night?”

Peter’s eyebrows furrow, “I don’t know, what did I do?”

You take a deep breath, “don’t play dumb. Who was she?”

He makes a face of realization, “Ohhhh, you mean the girl on the phone?”

You mock his tone, “yeah, the girl on the phone. You know, the one you were making out with?”

You hear someone cough, it’s not peter, you can imagine the dead silence that just blanketed the room.

Peter immediately takes the defense, “I didn’t make out with anyone last night, want to take the offense louder?”

“Someone literally texted me a picture.”

“Okay, so let me literally see it.”

You narrow your eyes, “I don’t have to entertain this, peter. I broke up with you and you cheated, the end.”

Peter sits up on his end, “no, not the end. You’re throwing damaging accusations out there and not giving me any fucking context.”

“I. got. a. text.” You paused between each word to prove a point, also a little condescendingly.

“Show. me.” He mocked your tone.

You let a groan rip from your throat, “it doesn’t change that you did it.”

Peter rubs his hand down his face, “okay, fuck this. I was here all night, in my dorm room. If you want you can ask my roommate, he was here, with his girlfriend,” he enunciated the last word, “who called me petey, you know, like you do, maybe, I don’t know, mockingly?”

His words make you think, if he was truly guilty you don’t think he’d be defending himself so hard. You would think that once he was caught he’d fold his cards, instead he’s insulted you could even assume something like that.

You take down the threat in your voice, “but… I got a picture. And it looks just like you.”

Peter takes your side, he may defend his but he can’t make it better by pitting against you.

“I’m sure it does, baby, but I promise I was here all night.”

“Peter, it looks just like you.”

He takes a deep breath to settle his frustration, “I know, but I promise it’s not me. Why would I cheat?”

It’s a good question, you never would’ve thought he could but the picture was damning evidence.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think you would, but I mean pete, it looks like you. He’s even wearing your green blue plaid button down.”

Peter’s eyes bug open, his head spins, you know he’s staring his roommate in the eyes.

“Evan!” They both exclaim at the same time.

Your eyebrow scrunches, “who?”

“Hair a little longer than mine? Maybe a little taller?”

You pull your head back, “yeah… why?”

Peter smiles wide, “making out with a blonde? At a bar?”

“That would be it.”

Peter shares a high five off screen.

“That’s our friend Evan, he was on a date. He borrowed my shirt, wasn’t me, promise.”

You stare at the screen, he seemed authentic and desperate for you to believe him.

“Fine. We’re still dating for now, but I need to see you and him in the same room. Preferably from the back and in the same shirt.”

“Done. I’ll print them out and bring them when I see you next week.”

Peter winks at the screen and you squeal at the thought of seeing him so soon.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #peter parker fluff #my writing

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kugokizs · 1 year ago

Text

LOWKEY | G. SUGURU (m)

It’s not easy to find a flaw within Suguru.

It's unarguable that he remains to be good at everything he does, and he’s never once done anything without putting in effort. His grades, his sports, his love life– whenever he actually wanted someone for them and not for what they could offer him. In the bedroom or otherwise.

GENRE: pwp; friends to lovers

PAIRING: suguru x afab!reader

WARNINGS: a bit of pining, friends to lovers, a game of seven minutes in heaven, cunnilingus, blowjobs, lots of kissing, inner turmoil, perfect suguru, non-evil suguru, oral sex, idek remember what else but nothing triggering!

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

A/N: It’s been so long since i’ve written literally anything so I hope you enjoy this! it’s constant suguru brain rot over here.

NOW PLAYING: sorrows by bryson tiller, lowkey by rochelle jordan, teenage fever by drake, and all night long by thuy.

It’s not easy to find a flaw within Suguru.

He always remained calm in stressful situations, often laughing things off whenever they got too serious. He’s always been able to view things with a clear head. You don’t think you’d ever seen a vengeful bone in his body, and whether that made him perfect you don’t know, but you know you admired him for his composure. That even when things were going terribly he still kept his head up as if nothing happened.

Since you’ve known him, Suguru has always been able to command the attention of a room and everyone in it. As soon as he walked in any door, heads would turn and eyes would glue themselves to him– assessing for themselves who Getou Suguru was, and trying desperately to see through him. From experience, it’s almost like the lights shine brighter, the music gets louder, and the people get happier every time Suguru is in proximity.

Since you’ve known him, you’ve always found Suguru to be perfect. His perfect laugh, his perfect eyes, his perfect lips, perfect tongue, perfect hands — since you’ve met him you’ve harbored a big fat crush on him and everything he is. It was easy to fall for him, almost as easy as tying your shoes or brushing your teeth. It was fun, finding new hidden things about him, growing closer to him, making him smile.

It was clear you were too far gone when even the line of girls coming to and from his room wasn’t enough to deter you. When you’d have an earful about his dick game at every friend hangout, when you’d watch another girl get starry-eyed at him, staring from across the room and twirling their hair in the same manner you would have if you were the most obvious person alive, and you still wanted him.

The room is packed, warm bodies thronged together, wrapping around each other and merging with one another. Your eyes scan the room, never settling on one face too long, and you cringe each time someone’s sweaty shirt sticks to your skin or wet arm grazes against yours. You’ve gotten used to these parties, to how loud they always are, how full and cramped, yet you never seem to get any more comfortable.

No one pays you much attention, finding dancing and drinking a lot more interesting than you moping around in a corner. You blend into the darkened room, you’re not in the spotlight, no one really cares what you do, and it’s comforting in a place that’s everything but. You cradle a drink in your hands, sighing at the barely there breeze floating in through the window, and finally drop your gaze down on Suguru's figure across the room. His arms stretch white fabric, pulling the material taught over tanned skin. His grins are lazy but full of mirth, and his laughs seem to carry across the room even over the loud music. It’s impossible to tear your eyes away.

You watch with a trained gaze as one of the girls from your design class wrap a hand around his shoulder and drag their fingernails along the material of his shirt, laughing breathily at everything he says. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. God, you really do like him, but you can’t imagine being that pathetic for a sliver of his attention. Not that you really need to, anyway, because Suguru is your best friend. When he turns his head, his eyes immediately find yours and you’d bother to look away if he wasn’t already grinning, a gleeful and mischievous thing that lets you know whatever idea he has is gonna make you miserable.

You shake your head before he can say anything, and he abandons his game to walk over to your designated spot in the corner, a smile stuck on his face as he does.

“No!” You call over the thumping music, your head shaking furiously in tandem to the rhythm of the song playing in the background. In your peripheral, hips swing back and forth to the heavy bass, everyone is all smiles, breathy laughs, and hooded eyes.

“Come play with us,” Suguru yells, bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat and mouth open in a sexy but disgusting way. His breath glosses over your skin — he’s that close — and his eyes stare down at you with something that vaguely resembles pity. Of course he’d be the only one to register that you’re standing in a corner, alone, at a party.

“I don’t like games.” You sigh, deciding to look everywhere else but at Suguru, the one person you’ve been dying to spot since you got there earlier that night. This is the best chance to stare, but it’s hard to make eye contact with him. To look at him while he stares back.

“It’ll be fun. Please? Do it for me. Satoru is over there too.”

Shit. This again?

“So what if ‘Satoru’ is over there?” You groan, rolling your eyes and finally looking back at Suguru– even if it’s only to settle him with a heavy glare.

Suguru has somehow gotten the impression that you like Satoru. Campus pretty boy, good at everything, has everyone wrapped around his finger, and 100% not your type. You don’t know what made him come to the conclusion that you’ve got a soft spot for him or why he’s so persistent in that narrative after you’ve expressed so many times that you don’t, but it’s starting to get annoying. Stop being so blind, Suguru.

“Alright, alright,” He sighs, “Just come over.”

You’re silent for another moment before whining in defeat, leaning off the wall and towards Suguru instead. It’s hard to say no to him, and though his prideful laugh makes you want to say never mind and go back to your spot against the wall, your legs keep moving forwards, swerving between couples and squeezing between groups of sweaty and intoxicated friends. The air is warm, heavy, and the drink in your hand glides down your throat like water — smooth and refreshing. It fills you with a foreign confidence and determination that allows you to make your way to the group with a smile on your face that doesn’t resemble a grimace.

“So,” Suguru starts, clapping his hands together. “We’re either gonna play seven minutes in heaven, truth or dare, or never have I ever.”

A chorus of groans sound together, and Suguru rolls his eyes, makes that shy grin he always does when he’s embarrassed. It’s so fucking cute you can’t take it. “Shut up.” He grumbles and you can’t help the lovesick smile that forms without your permission. “What else are we gonna play?”

The group circles around the table, looking at each other with eyebrows raised, but after a moment of silence (or as silent as it can possibly be at a party) it’s decided that those are the only games available at the moment. Suguru nods his head towards the stairs, something small and cute and satisfied, and the mini group makes their way upwards — looking like the beginning of an orgy. You chuckle to yourself at the imagery even though you’d never actually want to join if they ever did… that. You’re not sure they haven’t done that, the entire group — consisting of Suguru’s friends, Satoru, Toji, and Choso, and with their just as promiscuous female counterparts Jieun, Sara, and Seoyoon. Along with the guys, the girls ran through partners like cash, never stopping long enough to know more about them than their first name and their dick game.

As you file into a line in order for the lot of you to fit up the stairway, Suguru shuffles behind you— one arm wrapping around your shoulders and waist pressed against your backside. His warmth seeps through your clothes, and it almost feels like you’re both bare, skin to skin. Your breath hitches just barely, and you quicken your pace, flitting up the stairs as if there was fire licking your heels. Suguru’s arm is dislodged from your shoulder with your movement, and it almost feels like you’ve been robbed of a large teddy bear coat or your own personal heater. Your arms wrap around yourself as if to replicate the feeling, and you shuffle in the room behind Choso, Suguru closing the door behind you both.

The light is dimmer in this room, a bedroom– one of many– and the girls waste no time plopping on the bed, Sara grabbing your arm to pull you closer, patting the spot next to her and motioning for you to sit. The mattress caves in when you do, soft memory foam encasing you and making you feel as if you’re melting, drowning in fabric. The guys stand at the opposite end of the room, drinks in hand, and it really does start to feel like the beginning of a porno. You smooth your hands over your jeans, desperate to save face and not let your lips curl into the awkward grimace they so graciously deserve, when Choso takes one last swig of his beer and places it on the floor between you– the girls on one side and the boys on the other.

“I’ll take the first spin,” Choso smiles, squatting down and pinching the bottle between his fingers.

‘Wait,” Satoru interjects, floppy bang covering his eyes and full lips glistening somehow in the dim room, his button-up shirt hanging open just slightly, the first two buttons left open either for sex appeal or for the remnants of a breeze, but you can’t deny the way your eyes linger all the same. Beads of sweat run down a toned, tan chest, and the way his lips form the words– you look away just before the glob of drool gets a chance to escape your parted lips. Coincidentally, they jet in Suguru’s direction, meeting a pair of eyes that are already piercing into your own. Suguru’s jaw is tight, and even when your eyes meet his, they don’t move, staring into you as if you’ve done something wrong. You swallow, looking down at the carpet and the shoes toeing into the fabric of it. “What game are we playing?” Satoru continues, setting his cup down on the nightstand and kneeling next to Choso.

“Seven minutes?” Toji suggests, kicking off his shoes and leaning his head back against the wall. “I got an idea of who I’d like to get stuck with.”

Bold. Sara shifts next to you, a small grin showing on her face for a split second. Ew.

“Yeah,” Suguru agrees, “So do I.”

Ouch.

Whatever. You bring your knees up onto the bed, getting comfortable as the guys abandon their drinks. “Ready?” Choso asks, gazing upwards from his place on the floor as he twists the bottle.

“Ready,” the group responds in unison, followed by giggles. The bottle spins, grazing against the carpet as it slows. One end on Satoru, the other end on Seoyoon. God, it wasn’t close at all– Seoyoon is on the total opposite end of the bed, but your heart still races, beating loudly in your chest with the anticipation of it all. There’s an even number, someone will end up with someone, the question is who are you gonna end up with and what the hell are you both gonna do? The bottle spins again. Toji and Sara. Lucky. The other couple still isn’t back yet, and there’s only four of you left. This last spin determines the rest of the pairings.

It seems like the glass moves slowest this time, as if the entire thing is in slow motion. Your eyes don’t leave the bottle for even a second, and when it stops in front of you you’re scared to see who’s on the opposite end.

“Suguru!” Jieun screeches, standing up and then grabbing Choso’s arm.

Wait what. Your head snaps up, wide eyes meeting your own. Wait WHAT!? Your hands and legs shake as you stand up from the bed. Jerky and unsure movements make you look clumsy, but it’s only you and Suguru left. You can barely get a word out, mouth open and gaping like a fish, still stuck on Jieun’s confusing words. Suguru finally looks away from you, and makes his way to the door.

Oh ok. So he’s gonna leave. You can both just lie and say you did something, or come clean and say you did nothing, but you didn’t expect him to leave just like that. You guess he didn’t get the person he had in mind. Except— he doesn’t leave, and the click of the lock makes your back straighten and your eyebrows raise.

“What…” You finally whisper, your mind finally at its end. “Why would you lock the door?”

“Because… if you’ll let me, I’d spend more than 7 minutes on you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and turning your head away so that he can’t see the small smile playing on your lips. It was so corny, but you loved it. It’s the typical romance between college students, confessing that yes, they’d like to have sex with you, and honestly, it brought a delightful pang to your chest.

“Doing what?” You laugh, backing up so that the back of your knees hit the soft mattress. You don’t want to look into this more than you should. More than you’re allowed. Suguru takes a step closer, apprehensive in everything but his movements, except he becomes more and more comfortable when he realizes you aren’t moving away. You too are apprehensive, scared, but most of all you’re curious. Curious to see what he does, to see what this means.

“I’ve been waiting for a chance like this for too long.” He chuckles but the laugh doesn’t reach his eyes. And, in a matter of seconds, he’s devouring you until you’re left breathless, your lips swollen and wet. His mouth moves along the sensitive parts of your neck, down the line of your throat, while his other hand separates from your own to run down your waist and touch you where he knows you shiver with need.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

He slips his leg between your parted ones, allowing you to settle down right on top of his muscular thigh. As the kiss grows deeper, your hips begin to move, gyrating and pressing down against him. As your bodies move with one another, your pleasure continues to rise, forming from your center and spreading over your body.

You gasp, but it’s swallowed up by Suguru’s mouth all over again. You let your hands slide up the back of his loose t-shirt. Your skin is warm, and Suguru hums into your mouth when he moves closer, your chests pressing together with each movement.

You think Suguru ends up ripping the buttons of your shorts open, too desperate to waste time unbuttoning them, and you’ll probably be annoyed later—but now, you sigh, finding his urgency unfairly attractive. Suddenly, Suguru’s lips are pulled away from yours and you whine loudly, chasing after him. You succeed, biting at Suguru’s bottom lip to get him to open up again, but it doesn’t last long.

“Are you sure this is what you want?”

You blink once in response before a fire ignites in your groin. The whimper that leaves your mouth fills the silent room and you almost drop down on the ground, finding that sentence way too attractive. Is this what you want? Of course it is. So you nod vigorously, after knowing what his lips feel like on yours you don’t ever want to endure another moment of them apart.

“Words, lovely,” He grins, amused by your enthusiasm.

“Yes, Yes.”

Suguru grins, you’re pushed back gently, and Suguru pecks at your lips repeatedly until you feel your back hit the soft, blanketed mattress. Then, like every girl’s wet dream, the beautiful man is grabbing your hands to hold by your head.

Suguru then proceeds to kiss the shit out of you, your lips crashing together, ravishing you until your lungs clench and a moan falls from your lips. You desperately try to avoid bucking your hips upwards into him, but fail again and again. Eventually, Suguru drags his mouth away, trailing it down your neck. You’re gasping against him, and you curl into his touch, whimpering when sharp teeth nip at you. There’s a tongue soothing the wound, sucking at the same spot, lapping over it. You can feel yourself starting to shake, whimpering more often than not, before you’re yanking your hands free from Suguru’s hold and dragging his face back up. You can feel Suguru smiling into it, chuckling just the tiniest bit, but he resumes kissing you.

He holds his gaze on yours when you fall apart, relaxing your body while the pulsing of your orgasm courses through you. He leans down into your arms right after, pressing tightly against your chest, so tight that you could feel his heartbeat pacing fast against yours. The kisses he gives you are soft and gentle, your thighs still trembling when he pulls away, pulling his gray t-shirt over his head.

The unmistakable shape of his erection that you feel brushing against your stomach lets you know just how turned on he is, and you equally so. His lips return to yours only after he has stripped himself, and your hands move from his shoulders to his chest, trailing down his naked skin, where you slide your fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

No way this is happening.

You lean forward, switching positions and taking him into your hand from under his clothes. He’s heavy, full of cum, and you slide your body down so that your mouth is right against his cock. You leave a kitten lick on the underside of his shaft, feeling the veins and the way Suguru throbs. He’s a pleasant weight on your tongue and you swirl it around the tip before sucking him into your mouth.

Still with your eyes on his face, you lean closer, kissing his sensitive tip before fitting your lips around the head, taking him into your mouth again. You hear him gasp before it turns into a deep groan, sucking and licking as you take him deeper.

Suguru sighs, his hand gripping your hair and forcing you down onto him. He fucks your mouth like all you are is a toy for him to use. Every time he inches you down onto him you can feel his skin against your nose and hear the spit fucking back in your throat. Your eyes lose focus as Suguru continues to rut into you, abusing your throat like it was nothing. Your body buzzes from the sensation and you feel hot all over, allowing him to use you the way he wants. His low growl vibrates down to your core and you resist the urge to reach down and stroke your fingers to search for your own pleasure, choosing to focus on pleasing him instead.

His lips fall open with a few deep grunts escaping his soft lips, his hips moving faster as he pumps himself into your mouth. “Fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum.”

Your fingers dig into his thighs and you whimper around him, the vibrations from your throat making his body spasm as he nears his orgasm. You pull off of him, your lips swollen and red, slicked with spit and pre cum.

“On my face,” you rasp, your throat scratchy and hoarse. “On my face Suguru, please. I’ve been good.”

Woah, where did that come from (???)

Suguru’s movement becomes harsh as he pumps himself, his speed growing rapidly, and you see him twitching, his girth widening, before he pumps his cum onto your face with a long, drawn-out, groan.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighs, watching you take his cum into your mouth. His thumb brushes back and forth over your cheek, relishing to the way your body leans into his touch. “You have no idea how many times I wished I could take you like this, do every sinful thing I could think of until you’re screaming out my name. How much I’ve wanted to see you on your knees like this.”

All you can feel is his touch, his fingers tweaking at your nipples and his lips that keep moving down and kissing the skin of your breasts that spill over your bra. He pulls his hand, the one that has been kneading at your breasts, and trails it down. He strokes his tongue over your skin while his free hand moves lower, and lower, slipping under your shorts to find your clit.

He traces down your panties, soaked with your arousal, running over the lace and moaning at the feeling of it clinging onto you. His thumb follows the wet trail on the flimsy fabric to find your opening, hardly shielding you from his touch. He twists his hand while he continues to press his thumb in circles over your covered entrance, his fingers find your clit, and then he pinches, hard, sending you over the edge a second time and into one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had.

You squirm at the feeling of your release, his fingers slowly peel the scrap of black lace down your thighs, making a show out of it while he makes you wait. He continues to tease you, staring you down as he makes a show of peeling the fabric down your legs. You slip your feet from them as he pulls them off, and you watch him lift the lace to his face. Inhaling deeply, breathing you in. His lashes flutter, and the view of him taking you in so shamelessly makes you shudder.

He drops the fabric in the next moment, looming over you with hooded eyes, and leans down to leave a lingering kiss on your lips. He continues to kiss you as he spreads your legs apart, holding them down with heavy hands. With your pussy so wet, his fingers slide easily through your folds, and he can feel just how wet you are, but the way you clench and throb around him makes him moan deeply. His lips find your hips, then he moves down, running his mouth down your legs, taking time to trail along your thighs, your calves, your ankles, and keeping his eyes on you the whole time.

You let out a gasp at the first stroke of his tongue over your clit. Your legs lift a little, but Suguru presses them back down, keeping you in place— keeping you right where he wants you.

“Don’t move, baby, be good for me, ok?”

You can’t reply, just running a shaky hand through his hair as you cry out at the feeling of his tongue resuming its ministrations on your throbbing core. You can’t do much but moan and sigh, an incoherent mess from Suguru’s mouth. It’s funny to you, how he has you shaking from under him, building you up and then breaking you down with immense pleasure— a feeling that you can barely think around.

You hear his soft chuckle as he gives you a few more kisses with his tongue, tasting you, before he looks up again and whispers, “I’ll make sure you fall apart around me.” And he’s determined to make good of his words. His grip tightens on your thighs, as the swipes of his tongue grow more intense. He sucks at your clit, pressing his tongue against you to send you into your third orgasm.

Your hips move desperately against his face, hopeless in your need for more. Chasing pleasure with each roll of your hips and his head buried in your heat. You spasm, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as you cum, soaking his tongue with your release and closing him in with your thighs. He doesn’t stop, sucking your clit in his mouth and using his tongue to lap up every bit of your orgasm. You cry out in protest, your body squirming away from his touch as instinct but the grip on your thighs doesn’t let up.

“Suguru please, oh god.”

His chest shakes with a chuckle, rising up and slotting himself between your thighs. You want him, more than anything, no matter what. He kisses the corner of your lips, smiling against your mouth. As he continues to litter kisses against your skin, he presses his cock against your clit, rubbing his hard length up and down your pussy, coating himself with your arousal. The next time he pulls himself back from you, he only does it briefly— and when he pushes himself back it’s with a thrust into you hard and fast, nearly bringing you to another orgasm despite you coming down from your third.

Your thoughts leave you as he continues to move in and out of you, filling you up and satisfying you the way he always does, except now it's in a different way. Your walls contract as he slams into you deeper, lifting your legs and situating them against his shoulders. He buries himself so deep inside it’s almost like he’s melded himself into you. He’s so big, you can barely breathe, allowing him to bring pleasure to you both as he moves.

He moans, his voice raspy with need, as he pumps his cock in and out of you.

Your mouth falls open, overwhelmed with satisfaction. You can only focus on the feeling of his cock dragging against you, his tip hitting so hard it feels like he’s moving around your organs. He pounds into you, not allowing anything but lewd moans to leave your lips for even a moment. His harsh groans and your airy sighs fill the room, slaps of his skin against yours lewd and wet. “Oh god, I’m gonna—”

Your words become nothing but a moan when his thrusts don’t falter and instead pick up. You don’t know how he’s managing to keep going, how he’s managed to move even quicker.

"Come on, baby," he whispers, clenching his jaw, letting you know that he’s on the brink of orgasm. Suguru bends down, taking your lip into his mouth, tugging and sucking and making you sigh in bliss. Then his fingers come down to find your clit, sending you erupting into an earth-shattering orgasm.

The next thing you know Suguru is groaning above you, his body going lax against you and his cum shooting into you forcefully, making you clench harder around him. Suguru whimpers as he continues to cum, again and again, releasing into you and painting your walls.

No way he just did that.

Suguru sighs, his hair brushing against your naked skin, and he presses a soft kiss against your collarbone. His lips rest there as you both come down from your high, basking in the glow of your orgasms and relishing in the presence of each other.

He pulls out of you, dragging his tip against your wet folds, before littering kisses against your face. Small pecks that tickle with the gentle force of them, and you giggle, running a hand through his soft locks.

Your chest heaves with the force of your breaths but otherwise your body feels light, airy, and any negative thought you’d entertained before is completely gone in lieu of the sex you and Suguru have just had, the mutual understanding you’ve created with the meshing of your bodies.

“I thought you’d be upset with me,” Suguru murmurs.

“Never.”

You trace your fingers against his skin, tracking his breathing and basking in his warmth. Your fingers slide through the grooves in his abs, tracing shapes over his collarbone, and tweaking his nipple just for Suguru’s barking of a laugh when he shoves you away saying that it tickles. You lean your forehead down so that it’s resting just near Suguru’s armpit, hairless like usual, and inhale— breathing in his scent, his proximity, him. He's perfect, and he’s yours, no matter what.

You’ve always wished for the closeness and transparency of a trusting relationship— have always wondered if you’d be able to get that, if you’d be able to keep it— and Suguru is proof that you have. It feels good to know that there are no secrets, no doubts or worries, and that there can only be acceptance between the both of you. A secureness that would be hard to find anywhere else. It fills you with butterflies, but it makes you incredibly happy to know that those feelings will remain, and you can only hope it'll stay that way forever and always.

When Suguru runs his hand down your back, reaching below the covers to squeeze your ass, you huff, poking him in the chest as a warning. Yet you know, and Suguru knows, that it makes you happy that you have this. A home, a person who loves you just as much as you love him, and a trusting relationship.

Suguru likes this familiarity. Laying down with you, bare emotionally and physically, and unworried about being judged or ridiculed. It feels good, it satisfies him more than he ever thought it could, and makes a comfortable, warm, feeling bloom in his chest. He inhales— taking in the scent of you and your proximity, and he smiles.

“Hey!” The sound is muffled, “Why’d you guys lock the door!?”

And that’s the end! I feel like it’s a bit rushed and I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoyed!

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