#still trying to find a good au name for this

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won't Let Go

It's the Zombie Apocalypse

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 2.2k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Zombie!AU, PiV, Oral (M!Receiving), pregnancy sex, the plot thickens

Sorry guys its been like 5 months oops

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

If anything, your slumber is more of a power nap.

You’re disoriented of how much time has passed, but it is still dark when you wake up. Like a cat in heat you seek John out in the darkness-  not that he’s far away from you. 

Rolling over towards him takes a fair bit of effort, pawing at him in your half asleep state.

His snoring stops, broken by a sharp huff as he’s reaching for you in turn. He really is rather clingy. Your nose burying in the crook of his neck, soft needy whines of his name helping wake him up.

Propping one knee over his legs, your pawing hands drift to his waistband. Your eyes focus on your hands in the poor lighting so you don’t notice as he starts to fully wake up just yet. 

“Mmm,” that baritone rumbles through you. “Need me to take care of you again, Love?”

It’s honestly not so much him taking care of you that has you so wound up.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you purr at him, kissing across his neck before gently pushing at his shoulder. 

“That so?” He complies easily, falling onto his back.

You hum in satisfaction, making your way down his torso. 

Having already pulled his cock out with your earlier pawing, you set to work straight away.

The lighting is poor, but enough for you to see what you’re doing- what you’re working with exactly. 

Your hands and your body are already acquainted with the girth of him, but there’s still a jolt of surprise when you see John’s cock. Jesus, how did you get that thing to fit in you?

Your jaw is not going to be happy with you once you’ve completed your mission. Regardless, you remain undeterred from your original task as you lap up the length of his cock. Stroking the base of him with one hand as you lavish attention on the tip with your mouth, you can’t help but be pleased with yourself as he hisses and bucks his hips. 

The light illuminates just enough that you can see John’s face, eyes locking on yours as you look up at him while gagging on his cock.

You’re welcome, you think smugly to yourself as he groans and tells you “Good fuckin’ girl”.

Hopefully your stamina won’t give out before he gets off, because you are a woman on a mission but there is only so long your body will put up with your efforts. In the meantime though, it’s sweet how John reaches for and pets you as you put your mouth to work.

Unfortunately for your curiosity, you don’t end up finding out whether or not you can get John to cum before your jaw starts to protest too much. Your complaints are minimal, however, when he’s pawing at your hair to make you stop.

“Need you, lovely,” he instructs, and you happily crawl into his lap. Like a woman starving, your hands grasp at fabric and flesh, more than content to get to work.

You’re eager if not a bit clumsy- it’s not like you can see what you’re doing very well. However you remain dauntless in your task to mount John.

If he was laid out flat on his back, perhaps you’d be inclined to ride him the standard way. But given how his back is resting against the headboard, you decide the easiest course of action for your plan is to do reverse cowgirl- give yourself some room to ride him into the mattress. 

One of his hands lands heavy on your hip- soothing and warming you in equal measures. 

The other helps you get everything together- John hissing and you giving a soft whimper as you sink down on him. 

John’s hands are warm and roaming- groping and squeezing at you, sliding under the fabric of your dress for more access.

You try to be good- keep your whines quiet as you ride John to your own pleasure. The way his fingers tweak and tease one nipple has your voice pitching in pleasure. Clearly he’s still heeding your earlier warning of being gentle with you, because your breasts are so sensitive. It’s enough to drive you crazy, working yourself into a frenzy on his lap as you bounce.

“Good girl, lovely,” he praises, free hand helping guide you up and out of his lap before you sink back down again. “That’s it, take what you need.”

You’re trying very hard to ignore the burn creeping up your legs, instead focusing on the pleasure. Your breathing is more labored, borderline feeling hot as everything threatens to boil over. “John,” you plead softly, attention locking in on the orgasm you are so close to having.

Everything burns, and you’re not sure what’s pleasure and what’s leg cramps and what’s you needing to breathe and relax.

Your weight settles back into John’s lap and for the life of you, you just cannot muster the strength to get up again. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, tears of frustration welling in your eyes with just how close you are.

It takes John a moment to realize that your impromptu break is not planned on your end. The hand on your hip smooths up your back in a soothing gesture, “What’s the matter, Love?”

“I’m tired,” there’s no sexy way to answer that question. You’re keenly aware of the fact that he’s still hilted inside of you.

You can’t help but feel his answering coo of “Oh, you poor thing- Here, I’ll take care of you” has an edge of patronization to it, but you are clearly in no state to do anything about it. You can’t even summon the energy to brat up on him. Especially when he’s offering to handle this horrid, empty ache you have.

John guides you how he wants you, although changing positions has you feeling as graceful as a beached whale. Your belly has completely shifted your center of gravity and somehow is still constantly in your way even though you’d think you’d be used to its presence by now.

You’re on your hands and knees now, a pillow shoved under you for additional support as John mounts you from behind.

“John,” you keen and rock your weight back into him while he placates your needy whines with gentle shushing.

“I already told you, lovely- I’ll handle it.” His tone is softer, less smug as he steadies you with one hand and lines himself up with the other.

You’ve always had a penchant for riding your partners into the sunset, but being face down in a pillow with your ass perched in the air certainly has its perks too. John’s low groan reverberates at the same time that you’re whining again, trying to muffle your noises with the pillow.

Fuck he knows what he’s doing.

“R-right there,” you moan through the pleasure, feeling John shift his grip on you so he can keep hitting that spot.

You can practically feel the vibrations from his pleased hum, clinging to the pillow like a lifeline.

“That’s it,” his voice rumbling low in your ear has a shiver shoot down your spine. Your leg is shaking, your grip on the bedding the only thing keeping you in place. 

“Taking me so well, pet,” he praises as you muffle your whine below him. “Good girl- just like that.” 

Him talking to you- talking at you more like- does the trick. Your orgasm has you squealing into the pillow, biting down on the fabric to quiet yourself. 

John drags you across the finish line before changing the tempo in his thrusts- no longer focusing on your pleasure now that you’re a limp heap underneath him. His face buries in your hair, groaning low as his own orgasm hits.

Blissed out, you quickly fall asleep, and hours later as the sun begins to rise you’re very reluctant to leave the little cocoon of warmth enveloping you.

In the days since John has begun herding you into the same bed as him, he is typically awake and out of bed before you. You’re not sure what time it is (relatively speaking, anyway), or how long you’ve been asleep for, but you’re very cognizant of two things; John is behind you snoring up a storm with a territorial arm across your belly, and your child once again is sitting on your bladder.

The bathroom is the most pressing issue for you at the moment. As much as you’d like nothing more than to roll over and burrow further under John for warmth, mother nature is calling you.

Unfortunately for you, John perpetually seems to be keyed into your every movement despite him currently being unconscious.

Much like the first night, no sooner have you actually gotten any distance between the two of you before he’s huffing and grabbing at you with an efficiency that has you (once again) convinced he’s actually awake and just fucking with you. Unlike the first night, you’re not merely scrambling in a bid for propriety to clear your head. You need to pee God damn it, with the urgency only a late term pregnancy can produce. Thus you are not amused. At all.

You squirm, or try to- an honest bid to slip out of his hold that doesn’t escape him in his sleep. The man is clingy even though he’s asleep.

“John!” you hiss, trying to hit just the right decibel where you can wake him without being too loud. His snoring stops which is a promising sign, although it takes another jostle for him to actually wake up. 

“Let go, I need to go to the bathroom!” you instruct now that he’s actually aware of his surroundings. Once you’re free you…aren’t exactly bolting because speed is not your forte at the moment, but you move as quickly as you can given your current predicament. Meanwhile, John’s clearly in that half asleep-half awake limbo, mumbling something in his half-sleep as his bleary eyes track you across the room.

You’re fine, and make it across the hall without issue. Once finished and making the trek back to the oh-so-warm bed waiting for you (and deciding that you are going to crawl underneath John if it’s the last thing you do), something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye.

At the top of the stairs you’re able to see down to the front door, the opaque windows just beginning to be lit up by daybreak.

Which means you can clearly see the shadow of someone moving on the porch. You freeze, suddenly not giving a damn about the cold.

It’s a zombie. You tell yourself the most logical option. It’s the zombie apocalypse- there’s gonna be zombies outside. It cannot get inside. They’re not smart enough to open doors, and John has them locked and-

You can hear the sound of the doorknob turning. The hair on the back of your neck raises up, a chill running down your spine like someone dumped ice water on you.

Zombies aren’t smart enough to open doors.

That is not a zombie on the other side of the glass.

Your fight or flight kicks in, instinct demanding you hurry back to John’s side. The door is locked, but that doesn’t guarantee the interloper won’t still try to get inside. You don’t even know why this is spooking you so badly, but if there’s one thing the end of the world has taught you, it’s to not question your instincts.

“John!” The distress in your voice must cut through whatever sleep still clings to him, because he jumps immediately from a sleepy acknowledgement of your return to being wide awake.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s someone outside- I heard them trying the door.”

He freezes for a nano second before throwing the covers back and getting out of the bed. “Did they see you?” he asks as he dresses with impressive efficiency.

“I-I don’t think so- I was at the top of the stairs. I just saw the shadow through the glass- I-,” you stammer.

“Stay here,” he instructs firmly- that’s an order you were anticipating from him, and one you fully intend to comply with.

He places the pistol you’d been carrying the first night in your hand. “I’ll go look. Either scare them off or see what they want. Anyone comes up the stairs who’s not me, you fire, understood?”

You nod, feeling a bit more settled now the initial adrenaline dump is fading. Right- they don’t necessarily have to be a threat. You certainly hadn’t been much of a threat to anyone when John caught you skittering around in the kitchen. That already feels like a lifetime ago.

But you also aren’t stupid- there are people who would not hesitate to steal your supplies and leave you for dead, either. Or just happily kill you both for the thrill of it. 

“Stay here,” he reiterates, pulling you in for a kiss goodbye before stepping away.

“Be careful,” you caution him, knowing full well he’s far more equipped to handle anything going bump in the night than you are.

“I’ll be back in a bit- shouldn’t take too long,” he assures you- and then you’re alone.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Hiii!! Here for the 'ask and receive' thingy you're doing! I'm thinking allure!MATZ (maybe seonghwa focus? 😏) with the prompts 120, 122, 214, 220, 221, 224. What do you think?? Love your fics btw 💕����

➯a/n: OOOUUUH WHAT DO I THIIINK ? i think- shit, where'd my clothes go ? kkkkk its about time i did some pure smut in this universe !! thank you very much and enjoy <33

Allure

Scent of You

❥Park Seonghwa x fem reader x Kim Hongjoong

120 + 122: "faster, faster — please ! " + "just like — oh, fuck ! just like that ! "

✫彡wordcount: 2.6k

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: 214: cnc, 220: manhandling, 221: creampie/breeding, 224: knotting, predator/prey chase, clothed/naked dynamic, outdoor sex, double penetration, pet names, dirty talk, multiple creampie, this adds almost zero to the plot/universe imma be real; they just fuckin, not proof read

♫Allure Soundtrack♫ "Just howl all night, like we got nothing to lose." &TEAM, Scent of you♫

♡masterlist !♡

MINORS GO AWAY

˚➶ ｡˚

It's been a long time since your adrenaline was so high.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your ears, in your finger tips — in your cunt.

The chilly fall air burns your lungs as you push yourself. You're so far into the woods and away from the farmhouse that you wouldn't be able to find your way back even in the broad daylight; forget about doing it now, in the middle of the night with only the moon to guide you.

Good thing Seonghwa is hot on your tail and ready to drag you back home after he catches you.

His footsteps crunch the fallen leaves as he makes his way to catch up with you; not even trying to be quiet in his pursuit. Both of you know that he's faster, that he's eventually going to get you. But that doesn't matter. That's, in actuality, the whole point.

He and Hongjoong opened up to you a few months ago, about how they had some... peculiar interests. Things they wanted to try. Things their wolves wanted to do. At the top of that list, just below 'breed' — was 'hunt.'

It's no secret that alpha's are more in tune with their wolves natural instincts, their natural urges. The stronger the wolf, the stronger the urges. And you happen to have two very strong alpha's as your mates.

Seonghwa is the strongest wolf of your entire generation, he was the first born. When you agreed to this, he literally howled with joy at the fact that he would be able to chase you down and 'earn' what he took.

Hongjoong was just as excited, he nearly pounced on you then and there.

You can't lie. It's fucking exhilarating. Your wolf is prancing in your head at the knowledge that your mates are hunting you down with the intention of knotting you as roughly as they please.

You catch yourself by grabbing onto a tree as a lighting fast shadow crosses your vision up ahead, making you stumble. Hongjoong, it had to have been; because Seonghwa is still right behind you — oh, fuck.

You're tackled, Seonghwa's arms wrapping around you tightly and pulling you on top of him before you can collide with the dirt. "You cheaters!" You pant as you fall over him bonelessly, "he cut me off."

"We got you fair and square," he growls as he grabs the back of your sweater collar. Not another second is wasted as he riiiips the clothing down your back, "there wasn't a rule saying we couldn't corner you. Should have thought of that, Omega."

You gasp as the cold air hits your torso, exposed as he yanks the fabric off your arms. A yelp follows, having been pulled straight up and off him by Hongjoong.

He shoves you belly down onto the ground, "you're just so naive, Dolly~" He giggles, yanking your bottoms down. Not even bothering with your shoes as he pulls your pants off you. "Didn't you realize only one of us was behind you?"

"Get-" Your mind comes back to you after your initial shock of being caught and nearly stripped so fast, "get off me!" It's a little less convincing than it could be, but that's because you want them just as badly as they want you. Your ankle is immediately caught by a clawed hand as you go to kick at him, his other-worldly sharp nails threatening to press into your skin.

"I don't think so." He smirks as you look over your shoulder, wide eyes meeting his blackened ones. "You're ours. If you didn't want this, you should have ran faster~"

His words, although you know they are truly nothing but play pretend, make your heart thud in your chest harder and harder. You know you can end this with a single word. But you don't want to. "Wh- what are you gonna do?"

"We're gonna fuck you," Seonghwa's voice echos in the woods with a deep, dark purr laced in it as he stands infront of you.

The full moon is shining bright through the trees behind him, casting you in his shadow as Hongjoong plays with your hair teasingly.

"And you're gonna take it like the good little Omega that you are."

You couldn't respond even if you knew what to say as Hongjoong uses his claws and cuts your bra off of you, his palms immediately on your breasts as he grinds into your backside, making your jaw drop.

     "Maybe, if you behave," Seonghwa hums as he crouches, red eyes locked on yours, "I'll give you my puppies."

    You want to beg, 'please, please, fill me up!' Instead, you give him your best pout, finding yourself slipping more and more into the role of helpless prey. "You perverts..."

     "Ah, we're the perverts?" Hongjoong chuckles as he continues to grind his jean clad bulge against your panties. The texture is so rough and nice. That, along with the chase — has you soaking through the fabric.

    He sits up, holding you down by your shoulders as he leans his head back and takes a deep, purposeful breath in through his nose. "Mmmm," he bites his lip. You smell so tempting. So delicious. "You smell that, Baby?"

    Seonghwa smirks at his question. Of course he does. "Hm? You mean that sweet smell of our Omega's cunt begging for us?" You whine, genuinely embarrassed. Curse their stupidly strong senses.

     "I bet I could slip right in." Hongjoong's words make your eyes widen, and Seonghwa grins darkly, kneeling in front of you and leaning right to your face.

    "I bet so too. I bet she'll let you right in~ Her pussy is telling the truth, even when her mouth is lying."

   "No!" You try to push yourself up, only succeeding in pushing your ass against Hongjoong's bulge and making them laugh.

    "Oh, yes, Dolly~" He unbuttons his bottoms and is hurrying to free himself while you struggle lightly beneath him. "I'm not a very patient man, you know that by now."

     "Hongjoong, Hongjoong, wait! Wait a second, please!"

    Seonghwa grabs the back of your neck, tilting his head as he looks down at you. "What? Why should we wait? Hm?"

      "Y- At least stretch me out..." You feel so filthy for the words that leave your lips; but the harmonious rumbles from your Alpha's tell you that you definitely just did something right.

     In truth, you were already more than ready to take one or even both of the them. They'd been teasing you for hours before the moon rose and the chase began. 

    They didn't want to hurt you, after all — not that badly.

     "Oh," Hongjoong lets out an amused breath from behind you. You're just as into this as they are, slipping more and more into the game. "I'll stretch you out, alright."

      He shoves your panties down your thighs, barely giving him enough room to slam into you. And slam he does. Knocking every thought from your head and your breath along with it as he settles his member as deep as possible.

      It was only a slight hint of pain, the rest of what you were feeling was pure, unadulterated pleasure.

     Seonghwa could see it in your face. Your brows pushed together and your eyes glazing over as small howl gets broken off in your throat. "That's it, Starlight," he breaks the facade with a soft praise, cupping your trembling jaw. "Let our mate fuck you in the dirt like the animals we are."

    "F-uuuuck!" You scream as Hongjoong begins hammering into you, his growls reverberating off of the trees around you. Even as he gets lost in the clenching grip of your heat, he's careful with his claws as he grabs onto your shoulders; pulling you up to your knees.

    "Hongjoong, be gen-gentle!" Don't be gentle. Don't be gentle. Fuck me like the Alpha you are.

    His eyes roll back into his head as your thoughts reach him.

    They reached Seonghwa as well, who now cups your face with both hands and squishes your cheeks together roughly. "Gentle? You want gentle? Too fucking bad, pup. You're gonna take us like the Omega you are."

Oh, you could faint. They're always rough. It's in your nature. But this is all new and dizzying and making you drip around Hongjoong's pistoning cock.

     Seonghwa is grinning like a madman as you gulp, he can hear your heart thrumming like crazy as he comes closer. He shoves your face in his shoulder and holds you there with one hand while the other grasps onto your hip and guides you to start pushing back on Hongjoong.

     "Fucking hell-" The blond hisses, his clawed hands wrapping up in your hair and holding onto you tightly. Not pulling, just grounding himself with you roughly as Seonghwa pulls you back and forth to meet his hard thrusts.

      You wail into his shoulder, biting his hoodie and letting out a pathetic growl.

    Hongjoong is continuing their tradition of trying to mold the shape of his cock into you so that Seonghwa can do the same and see which sticks longer. He's hitting every deep, sensitive part of you as he slips in and out at a brutal pace with the help of your shared mate. 

    "Just like that, Baby," Hongjoong purrs deeply, one of his hands finding his on your hip and settling on top of it. "Just like —" A breath hitches in his throat as you tilt your hips, and he's suddenly pounding into you impossibly harder while holding you at the new angle. "Oh, fuck~" He laughs breathlessly, "just like that!"

      You slap your hands against the ground to cope with the new and intrusive feeling of him pushing himself somewhere... deeper. "Joong!! Too deep!" Every thrust is making his fat tip kiss the entrance of your womb. Don't stop. Don't stop.

"Cum inside of her," Seonghwa groans as he lets go of your head, eagerly yanking at his belt and locking eyes with the near feral man inside of you. "Lube her up nice and good so we can knot her together."

"Wha-aaaah," you squeal as Hongjoong pushes your face to the ground, one cheek to the dirt and your back arched deeply. His hand is on your other cheek, pining you to the ground with your ass in the air as he fucks you like he needs to breed you more than he needs to breathe.

It's almost like he does. As his pleasure slams into a peak almost as violently as he's slamming into you — he doesn't even realize he's holding his breath as he's shooting his load deep inside of you.

Not until Seonghwa's hand finds his shoulder, and he unlatches his jaw to snap at him before he realizes that's his mate too.

    "Easy, tiger," Seonghwa smiles devilishly as he pushes back Hongjoong's hair, "aren't you gonna let me in?"

     Fuck, yes, he is.

   Hongjoong reaches down and tucks his arms under your shoulders, yanking you up as you whimper, "hurry, Alpha... Need you~"

     Any part of you that was trying to hold onto the act is gone, your wolf is demanding to be knotted full by your mates. And they are more than eager to comply.

A small yip from you makes Seonghwa chuckle, watching you be jerked around with a primal satisfaction settling in his gut. Even though he knows, in reality, you wanted them this whole time — there's something so satisfying about the way they've gotten you so pliant and begging for their knots.

Your panties, still caught around your knees, stop your legs from opening all the way as Hongjoong lays back with you on top of him. He twitches inside of you, reaching around and using his claws slice the fabric. "Open up for your Alpha's, Dolly~"

As Seonghwa climbs over you, stroking his member slowly as he eyes you like a predator, Hongjoong holds your thighs and spreads you wide.

"Pretty Omega wants our knots, hm?" Seonghwa hums as he grips your jaw with his free hand, leaning over you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Yes..." You answer breathlessly, blinking at him slowly and letting a pout form on your lips.

"Fuck — how can I say no to that?"

Your wail echoes in the silent night, your head thrown back and your small fangs gritting together as he all but shoves his bulky tip into your stretched hole. Hongjoong is panting like a dog underneath you, his eyes squeezing shut in focus as he forces himself to retract his claws. When he's successful, his fingers immediately find your clit; bombarding you with pleasure and sending mixed signals to your brain.

Seonghwa is stretching you out in an incredible and punishing way as he joins your mate inside of you, Hongjoong is flooding your body with dopamine. All of your wolves are noisy beyond belief in your mind as they howl with joy at being so undeniably close.

     You hadn't come to expect gentleness from the eldest alpha, and you aren't surprised in the slightest bit that your chase had worked him up. He only gives you a single split second, while he grabs ahold of your hips, before he's done waiting and starts rutting into you.

     You and Hongjoong are equally wrecked as Seonghwa grinds against him rough and deep inside of you, the sounds of his previous release squelching while being pounded back into you stirring him on.

    He uses his grip on your hips to drag you up and down, his lip snarling upwards as he growls, "our perfect Omega takes it so good-"

     Hongjoong is growling louder than he is now, cutting him off as he starts thrusting in time with how he moves you. "Faster."

    "We don't want to break her~" He laughs lowly as the younger wolf's pout.

    "She can take it," Hongjoong whines, "right, Dolly?" He rubs his hands up your torso, abandoning his teasing of your clit now that you're falling apart on their lengths. 

    You nod quickly, hands scrambling for anything to hold onto you. You find Seonghwa's hoodie; grasping it tightly in your fists as you look up at him. "Faster, faster — please! Please, Alpha!"

    You know just how to press their buttons by now — which is exactly why you get just what you asked for.

Faster. Harder. They're animalistic in the way they take you. You can hardly think. But you don't have to. All you have to do is take it and revel in it.

A small howl leaves your pursed lips as your back arches off of Hongjoong's chest, thrusted about by their intense in-and-out and only held in place by Seonghwa's rough hands on your hips.

Your claws are dug into his hoodie, the tearing sound going completely ignored because the feeling of Hongjoong's knot swelling up and making the space they occupy even snugger.

"You gonna take it, Starlight?" Seonghwa hums a moan as he leans over you completely, crushing you between them, "gonna have our puppies?"

"Yes! Yes, pl-ease!"

Your yowl as Hongjoong's knot finally locks up inside of you — spurting even more hot cum — is muffled as Seonghwa latches his lips to yours. He keeps you right there, kissing you heated and messy as he copies the younger alpha's actions; stuffing you beyond completely and finally making that burning pleasure inside of you snap.

He rubs your stomach softly as you tremble and convulse with ecstasy, smiling against your lips as he feels their knots inside of you.

When he pulls away, he rest his head in the crook of your neck — purring loud and proud as he kitten licks at your mating mark. Hongjoong is rumbling happily below you, his arms wrapped around your waist softly and eyes closed blissfully.

"Such a perfect Omega," Seonghwa purrs, "we're so lucky."

˚➶ ｡˚

[readingkitty22]

Full-Court Claim

pairing: Alpha Basketball Star! Suguru Geto x Omega Cheerleader! Reader

description: Suguru Geto is a quiet, low-key Alpha with a killer three-point shot and a growing obsession with the Omega cheerleader. She’s sweet, smart, and somehow completely unaware that the entire campus is half in love with her, especially him. What starts as a simple class project spirals into movie nights, walking her home, shared hoodies, and feelings too big to keep buried. Now he just has to confess before his best friend Gojo does it for him.

College AU. Omegaverse. Soft, slow burn. One hoodie, one Alpha, and one very smitten Omega.

⚠️ Warnings: Omegaverse dynamics (scenting, no heats/ruts), suggestive content, language, brief objectifying comment, emotional vulnerability, college setting, Gojo being chaotic

w.c. 5.3k

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

The lecture hall was as packed as always, the quiet hum of students finishing notes and packing up for the day filling the air. You gathered your things, the stress of the midterm week still lingering in your shoulders, but the buzz of the class around you didn’t bother you. You were used to the bustle of campus life, always moving from one thing to the next.

Until Professor Yaga called out the names for project partners.

“Y/N and Suguru Geto,” he said, his voice calm but cutting through the low murmurs in the room.

You looked up, slightly surprised. Geto? You knew him, of course. Everyone knew him. The basketball star. Calm, quiet, and somehow always in control. You hadn’t spoken much to him, mostly exchanged brief glances across the campus, maybe a “hello” after a game or two.

But now? Now you were paired for a project. You blinked as you scanned the room for him.

He was leaning back in his chair, casually flipping through a textbook. His gaze met yours, but it was steady, unbothered. There was no smirk or obvious recognition , just a simple acknowledgment. He wasn’t staring at you, wasn’t giving you any of the attention you were so used to getting from others. You felt a small flicker of confusion.

You grabbed your bag and made your way over to him, ready to dive into the usual awkward exchange of “let’s get this over with.”

“Uh, hey,” you said, offering a small smile as you stood next to his desk.

He glanced up from his book, his eyes locking with yours, and there was that familiar warmth in his gaze. He didn’t speak right away, just gave a small, casual nod.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice smooth and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be talking to you. No nerves. No effort.

You blinked, surprised at his calmness. Usually, alphas were all about making themselves known around you, flirty or trying to impress. Geto didn’t seem interested in that.

“So, uh,” you started, your hand shifting the papers in your grip. “How do you want to do this? Project?”

He shifted slightly in his seat, the faintest curve of his lips showing as he spoke. “We can meet up tomorrow. I’ve got practice, but after that, I’m free. How about you?”

His voice was low and easy, and even though you’d never had a conversation with him like this before, there was something almost... reassuring about the way he spoke. Calm. Collected. He wasn’t rushing. Not pushing anything.

“Sounds good,” you said, a little thrown off by how easy he was to talk to.

You turned to leave, but as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his eyes were still on you. You glanced back briefly, only to find that Geto was looking down at his book again, no obvious sign of interest on his face.

Maybe this project won't be too bad.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Geto’s POV:

She’s gone. Just like that.

Suguru sat still for a moment, his gaze on the desk in front of him, though his mind was a thousand miles away. He couldn’t help it, his thoughts were still swirling around you.

The way your cheer uniform had shifted as you moved. The way you looked so effortlessly comfortable in it, like you didn’t even realize how everyone’s eyes followed you when you entered the room.

You probably don’t realize how much attention you get.

But even if you didn’t, it was like the room still noticed you. And maybe, just maybe, he did too but he wasn’t about to let it show. Geto had no interest in adding to the chaos of your life. You were the popular cheerleader, the one everyone knew and admired, and he? Well, he was just Geto.

He exhaled softly, leaning back in his chair as he gathered his thoughts. There was something different about you, though.

You didn’t act like others. You didn’t flirt, didn’t seem to notice how many alphas were always around, trying to get close. You were quiet about it, more focused on other things. The kind of person who didn’t need constant validation.

He had to admit, it made him want to know you more. But at the same time, he didn’t want to make things complicated.

She’s probably not even aware of the way her scent drifts through the air. It’s almost distracting.

He shook his head slightly, trying to push the thought out of his mind. He was supposed to be focusing on the project. Not on how her scent lingered in the room even after she left.

But damn, it was hard to concentrate when everything about her felt so... quietly perfect.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You glanced at your phone as you stood outside the campus apartments, shifting your tote bag to your other shoulder. The hoodie you’d thrown over your light knit tank and pleated skirt wasn’t doing much against the night chill, but you hadn’t thought much about it when you left. You hadn’t expected to feel nervous either.

Geto: Sorry it’s late. Practice ran long. You okay meeting at my place? Promise it’s quiet.

The door swung open before you could knock twice. Geto stood there, damp hair curling against his jaw, wearing a plain black sweatshirt and soft gray joggers that hung low on his hips. He looked relaxed,maybe too relaxed for how fast your heart suddenly beat.

“Hey,” he said, stepping back to let you in. “Sorry again. I figured the library would be packed, and I didn’t think a coffee shop at 10 p.m. sounded great.”

You stepped into the apartment and paused, caught off guard.

The place was spotless. Shoes lined up neatly by the door, surfaces dusted, books stacked like he actually used them. A soy candle flickered on a shelf, and a fuzzy black throw blanket was folded perfectly across the back of the couch.

“This is... not what I was expecting,” you said, toeing off your shoes.

Geto laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “What, were you picturing pizza boxes and protein powder everywhere?”

“Honestly? Yeah. And maybe a basketball wedged into the couch cushions.”

“Check Gojo’s room for that,” he muttered.

“Gojo?”

“My roommate. He’s... hard to explain. Not home tonight though. You’re safe.”

You laughed softly and followed him to the living room, where he already had a laptop and a stack of printouts set up on the coffee table.

“Tea? Water?” he asked, heading toward the kitchen.

“I’m good, thank you,” you said, pulling your own laptop out as you sat cross-legged on the couch, hoodie slipping slightly off your shoulder. You caught him glance over and quickly look away.

The next hour passed surprisingly fast. You hadn’t expected him to be so focused, or so sharp. He broke down the project proposal with clean logic and careful pacing, asking your opinion but never talking over you. Every time you made a point, he actually listened — not just nodded like most people did.

“You’re really smart,” you said halfway through, before thinking.

He looked up, caught off guard. “Uh. Thanks.”

You laughed. “I just mean, you’re known for basketball and, you know, looking kind of intimidating.”

“I read,” he said, lips twitching in a half smile. “And I’ve been carrying this GPA since before coach recruited me, so... I like to surprise people.”

You smiled back and nudged him with your knee. “Well, consider me surprised.”

By the time you finished the outline and started assembling sources, the majority of the work was already done. You glanced at the time and winced.

“Midnight,” you sighed. “I didn’t even realize.”

“You walking back?” he asked instantly, brows lifting.

“Yeah, it’s not far—”

“No way,” he said, already grabbing his keys. “I’m walking you. Don’t argue.”

You blinked. “You really don’t have to—”

“If I don’t, I’ll sit here and picture the worst-case scenario until morning. So let’s just avoid that.”

Your breath caught slightly, the honesty of it catching you off guard.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The night was calm, the path lit in pale gold by campus lights. Your shoulder brushed his once, and you both paused slightly, then didn’t move apart again.

“Your apartment’s really cozy,” you said.

He glanced at you. “Thanks. I get weird about keeping things neat.”

“It suits you.”

“You don’t even know me,” he said, but his voice was quiet. A little hopeful.

You shrugged. “Not really. But I’m starting to.”

The silence stretched, not awkward -  just full of things neither of you were saying. When you got to your dorm, he stopped at the bottom step.

“I’ll wait until you’re inside,” he said.

You nodded, warmth blooming in your chest. “Thanks again, Geto.”

“It’s Suguru,” he said, eyes steady on yours. “You can call me that.”

You smiled. “Okay, Suguru. I’ll text you when I’m in.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Geto’s POV 

If he hadn’t walked her, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep.

He knew himself well enough. He would’ve paced the apartment, checking his phone every five minutes, overthinking the decision until his stomach twisted. It wasn’t about whether she could handle herself. It was just... her.

He shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, exhaling into the cool night.

She was wearing that skirt again. The one she sometimes wore to games. Casual, sweet, the kind of outfit that shouldn’t drive him crazy — but it did. And the hoodie was oversized, sleeves half-covering her hands, like she hadn’t even realized how damn cute she looked.

You’re just working on a project, he reminded himself.

But it didn’t feel like just that. Not with the way she smiled when he offered her tea. Not with the way she called him smart like it was something rare, something special.

And when she said his name ,not Geto, not “hey,” but Suguru , he had to swallow hard just to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.

He stared up at the stars again, breath forming faint clouds in the chill air.

God, I’m so far gone.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You barely knocked before the door opened again, warm light spilling into the hallway and casting a glow behind Suguru’s tall frame.

“Hey,” he said, stepping aside. “You’re right on time.”

“Practice ran short. Coach let us out early,” you said, slipping inside and toeing off your sneakers. Your gym bag hit the floor with a soft thud. “Hope it’s okay I came straight from practice.”

“Totally fine,” he said, shutting the door behind you.

You tugged off your team jacket, revealing the soft cling of your cheer uniform underneath ,short pleated skirt still swaying faintly from the walk, sleeveless top hugging your figure in a way that made Suguru absolutely not look.

Except he did. Once. Quickly. And then he went straight to the kitchen like he hadn’t.

You felt his scent shift almost imperceptibly , not aggressive, not possessive. Just… stirred. There was a weight to the air that hadn’t been there the last time. It curled around the room gently, like his instincts were trying to buffer the space, make it comfortable for you. Or safe. Or maybe both.

“Water?” he offered, already reaching for a glass.

“Thanks,” you said, sitting down on the couch and folding your legs under you. Your muscles still buzzed from practice, your ponytail a little messy, cheeks slightly flushed. He handed you the glass, and when your fingers brushed, you caught something in his scent again — warmer now, more focused.

The two of you worked quietly again, but this time, the tension sat closer.

You were more aware of how close he sat beside you. How his thigh brushed yours every now and then. How every time he leaned forward to point something out on your screen, the scent of clean soap and alpha pressed around you like a soft hum under your skin.

It didn’t help that he was ridiculously composed. Patient, kind, smart  and somehow still completely unaware of how attractive he was. That shouldn’t be allowed.

At one point, you caught yourself staring as he reread a passage from the article you’d pulled up, eyes narrowed slightly, the slope of his nose catching the soft light. He had no idea. Or maybe he did, and he was just good at pretending.

Either way, your heart wouldn’t calm down.

You cleared your throat. “Suguru?”

He looked up. “Hm?”

“Why are you helping me so much with this project? Like, I can tell you’re the smart one here.”

He blinked, then laughed a little under his breath. “I thought we were helping each other.”

You looked away, suddenly feeling very warm. “Yeah, I just… I don’t know. You’ve been nice.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, quietly, “I like when you’re here.”

Your breath caught, and for a second, neither of you looked at the screen.

Just at each other.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He walked you back again,  of course he did. By now, it felt more like a ritual than a courtesy.

“You don’t have to keep walking me,” you said as the wind pulled at your ponytail.

“I do,” he said without hesitation. “Because the one time I don’t, I’ll lose my mind worrying about it.”

Your heart fluttered for a very specific, dangerous reason.

When you reached your dorm, you lingered for a second longer than last time.

“Thanks, Suguru,” you said, voice soft. “Again.”

His eyes searched yours. “Always.”

You stepped inside, warmth blooming in your chest.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Geto’s POV

Suguru closed the door behind him and leaned against it, exhaling like he’d just held his breath for a full mile.

The scent still lingered, her shampoo, the warm trace of Omega that had been way too strong.. Maybe it was practice that brought it out. Or maybe it was proximity. Maybe she was starting to feel it too.

He wasn’t going to assume. Couldn’t afford to. But the look she’d given him when he said he liked when she was there - yeah. That wasn’t nothing.

He was halfway to the fridge when Gojo’s bedroom door swung open and he wandered out, yawning, hair a mess.

Gojo sniffed the air once, twice, then froze dramatically in the middle of the kitchen.

“…Why does it smell like the pretty cheerleader Omega in here?”

Suguru blinked slowly. “Don’t.”

“Oh my god,” Gojo grinned. “You didn’t—”

“Gojo.”

“I leave you alone once and you turn this place into a nesting den—”

Suguru groaned and dropped his forehead against the fridge door.

“She came over to work on our project. That’s it.”

Gojo leaned on the counter, waggling his brows. “Does she know you’re practically feral over her?”

“I’m not—” He stopped, sighed, and opened the fridge like it held answers.

Gojo’s grin widened. “You so are.”

And Suguru, as usual, had no defense.

Because maybe he was.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It started simple.

You found him sitting under one of the big sycamores on the quad, warm-up jacket unzipped, headphones hanging around his neck, brows furrowed over the textbook in his lap.

You plopped down beside him without warning, holding out a smoothie. “For pre-game carbs. It’s banana peanut butter.”

He blinked, surprised. Then his lips tugged up into a slow, warm smile. “You brought me a smoothie?”

You shrugged. “You said you get jittery before games.”

“I said Gojo gets jittery before games,” he said, amused, taking the drink anyway. “But thanks.”

You stretched your legs out in front of you, brushing invisible lint off your cheer skirt. It was game day after all, cropped top snug under your jacket, pleated skirt crisp and short, hair up with a ribbon that matched your school colors. You were used to people looking. But Suguru looked different. He never stared. He just… noticed.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked, glancing at him.

He sipped the smoothie and made a soft noise of approval. “Better now.”

And you didn’t look at each other for a second too long or anything, except… maybe you did.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The team was stretching just outside the locker rooms when the opposing players started to file past. Most of them ignored your side. Except one.

Tall, sharp-featured, eyes raking across the gym like he owned it.

He paused when he spotted you, still in your cheer uniform, jacket unzipped, pom-poms in hand, and smirked.

“Damn,” he muttered to his teammate, “cheer squad over here built different. Bet that one’s real flexible.”

Gojo, passing by with a towel around his neck, froze mid-step. His eyes widened slightly.

“Ohh no,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s the dumbest thing you could’ve said today.”

Because Suguru was standing less than ten feet away.

And he heard it.

He didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Just slowly looked up, eyes like black ice.

Gojo dragged a hand down his face. “Here we go.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You had no clue what had happened before the game started, just that Geto came out swinging.

Every movement was sharper, faster. Controlled, but with a precision that made your breath catch. He wasn’t just playing to win. He was obliterating.

And when the guy who made the comment tried to guard him?

Let’s just say he didn’t last long.

Gojo even called it from the court. “Oooh, somebody pissed him off before tip-off.”

You caught Suguru’s eyes once during a timeout. He didn’t smile. Just looked at you, intense and steady, and you felt that heat again low in your chest.

He was fired up. Because of you?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You barely made it onto the court before he found you.

“Hey,” the guy from earlier said, stepping in close. “Didn’t get your name before the game. You free tonight?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You looked good out there,” he added, eyes not even trying to be respectful. “Could show you a better time than—”

“Back off.”

The voice behind you was cold enough to freeze the gym.

Suguru was standing just over your shoulder, sweat still slick at his collarbone, jaw tight.

“She’s not interested,” he said, calm but lethal. “Keep walking.”

The guy looked between you and Suguru sized him up — and clearly thought better of pushing it. He scoffed and turned away.

Suguru didn’t move until he was halfway down the tunnel.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Thank you,” you said, turning to him.

He met your eyes. “Didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Your heart jumped a little. “You saw that?”

He nodded. “He said something before the game, too.”

You frowned. “What did he say?”

Suguru’s eyes darkened. “Doesn’t matter. He’s not saying anything again.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

This time, his hand didn’t just linger — it stayed. Resting warm on your lower back, grounding you in a way that made your pulse jump.

You walked quietly for a while. The campus was quiet. Soft wind pulling at your ribbon, your scent still sweet from adrenaline and heat.

“Do you always get that kind of attention after games?” he asked suddenly, voice quiet.

“Sometimes,” you admitted. “I don’t usually notice. I don’t pay much attention to that stuff.”

He glanced at you, something soft flickering behind his eyes. “You should. You don’t have to deal with that alone.”

Your throat tightened. You looked up at him, heart pounding.

“I like when you walk me home,” you said quietly.

He smiled. Just a little.

“I like walking you home.”

You paused at your dorm, just like always. But this time, something tugged you forward. He leaned down like it was instinct. And instead of a forehead kiss—

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, breath ghosting against your hairline.

“Night, sweetheart,” he murmured.

You stood there for a second after he walked away, heart thundering in your chest.

This was definitely more than friendship now.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Geto’s POV

The message was simple.

hey uhh I made way too much pasta and I have like zero self-control when it comes to eating alone… wanna help?

Suguru stared at the text longer than he should have, thumbs hovering over his screen.

be there in ten.

Her dorm was on the quieter side of campus, tucked on the second floor of a brick building lined with ivy. He knocked, expecting… he didn’t know, honestly. Something chill.

He did not expect to open the door and be hit with it.

Her scent.

Warm, sweet, soft at the edges, a little citrusy, a little vanilla, and undeniably Omega. He’d caught hints of it before, lingering in her clothes or trailing faintly when she left a room, but this was the full force of it.

It filled every corner. Blankets, clothes, the warm fog curling out from the kitchen. It wrapped around him like silk and punched every instinct he had directly in the chest.

She appeared from the kitchenette in sweats and a tank top, hair up, cheeks flushed from the stove heat.

“Hey,” she said, smiling like it wasn’t a crime. “Hungry?”

He was. But it wasn’t the food he was suddenly craving.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Dinner was pasta and garlic bread on the couch, the kind of easy that didn’t need much talking. They flipped through movie options until she groaned and threw the remote at his lap.

“You pick. I’m indecisive and full of carbs.”

He chuckled, scrolled a bit, then clicked something low-stakes. a cheesy horror movie with bad effects and worse acting.

Half an hour in, her legs were draped across his lap.

Another ten minutes and she��d shifted sideways, leaning her shoulder into him, half-laughing, half-hiding at the dumb jumpscares.

His hand moved to the back of the couch. Not around her.

But when she leaned closer .head against his chest, the tiniest sigh slipping out. he let his arm fall behind her shoulders. Barely touching. Barely breathing.

Until she shifted again. Tugged the blanket higher. And tucked herself fully under his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He felt her exhale. Settling.

And he just… melted.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He walked in dazed.

Still warm, still scented, still playing the moment over in his head like a record stuck on loop. Her laugh, her hand brushing his knee, her temple against his ribs like she belonged there.

Gojo looked up from where he was doing absolutely nothing in the kitchen.

Paused.

Sniffed the air.

“Ohhh my God,” he said, eyes wide, grinning like a shark. “Did you roll around in her laundry basket or did she just crawl into your lap.wait, don’t tell me, I wanna guess—”

Suguru gave him a look that was supposed to be threatening, but it lacked the bite. Because he was smiling. He couldn’t not smile.

“You’re disgusting,” Suguru muttered.

“You’re in love,” Gojo sing-songed, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “Tell me she made you dinner. No,don’t. I’ll cry. I am crying. This is so domestic.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, it’s so over for you, man. You’re gone. Whipped. She cuddled you, didn’t she?”

Geto didn’t answer.

Gojo shrieked into a throw pillow.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The movie ends, the credits roll, and you’re already half-asleep.

You and Suguru have done this three nights in a row now. Dumb movies, takeout, sprawled across your dorm floor while your scent mixes lazily in the small space, cozy and slow and content. The project’s been done for weeks. There’s no reason to keep doing this.

Except neither of you ever mentions that.

You walk him to the door in your socks, arms folded tight over your chest. The hallway is cold. He notices.

He always notices.

Without a word, he pulls his hoodie off and drapes it over your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Here,” he murmurs. “You’re freezing.”

You blink. “But you’ll be cold.”

“I’ll survive.”

The fabric’s warm, soft from wear. And it smells like him, a little sweat, a little cedarwood, something unmistakably Alpha that pulls at your lungs in a way you don’t want to think too hard about.

“Thanks,” you mumble, tugging it tighter. “I’ll give it back next time.”

But you don’t.

Not because you forget. Not really.

You just… keep it

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wear it in the mornings, wrapped around you like armor. It’s too big, sleeves constantly falling past your hands. But it’s perfect. Comforting.

When you stop by the campus café, the barista doesn’t even blink. “Your usual?” she asks, eyes flicking to the hoodie. “Geto’s, right?”

You just smile and pay.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Geto’s POV

“Bro. You let her keep your hoodie?”

Suguru glances up from his textbook. “She was cold.”

“No, no, no. You let her keep your hoodie.” Gojo throws himself across the couch like a man struck down. “She walked past me this morning and I swear I went into heat for you. I almost dropped my breakfast. Do you know what it’s like to smell you on her at 8 a.m.?”

Geto just blinks. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being honest! You’re cooked, man.”

And he is. He knows it.

Because now every time he sees you in that hoodie — during your early morning coffee runs, when you stop by the gym to say hi, when you curl up across from him during study nights — his brain short-circuits a little.

You smell like him.

You smell like his.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Wait, you’re not together?” is the standard response now.

You share drinks. You text all day. You finish each other’s sentences. You walk each other everywhere.

You bump shoulders in hallways. He pulls you closer in crowds. You laugh at his dry humor. He memorizes your order at every food truck on campus.

But neither of you says it.

You just keep circling each other, orbiting like gravity has something else in mind.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A cheer showcase, small, but personal. You text him a week ahead, just a simple “Come if you can?”

He replies within two minutes: I wouldn’t miss it.

He shows up early, back row, quietly watching while you run drills and routines under the lights.

Under your warm-up jacket?

His hoodie.

You spot him during the final bows. He’s leaning forward a little, arms crossed, watching you like you hung the moon.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Someone ,a classmate, a friend of a friend ,makes a passing comment while you’re grabbing your bag.

“You’ve got it easy. Everyone falls in love with you the second you smile. Must be nice, huh?”

It’s a joke, technically. Offhand. But it hits deep.

Because you are the perfect Omega. You do get followed around by admirers. And no one ever really sees you.

No one except—

You slip outside before anyone can notice.

But of course he does.

Suguru walks up quietly, finds you curled on the stone steps behind the gym, your knees pulled up to your chest and his hoodie wrapped tight around you.

He says nothing at first. Just sits beside you, shoulder brushing yours.

“You okay?” he asks after a beat.

“I’m fine.”

“You smell… not fine.”

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Is that your Alpha assessment?”

“It’s my friend assessment.”

That word stings now.

You don’t want to be his friend.

And maybe it’s the hoodie. Maybe it’s the moon overhead or the way he’s looking at you — not pressing, not demanding, just soft — but something breaks open.

“I’m tired of everyone loving the version of me they think I’m supposed to be.”

Suguru doesn’t flinch. Just turns his body toward you fully.

“I love you.”

You go still.

He breathes in slow, trying to hold it together. “You. Not the cheer uniform. Not the title. Not the scent you try to dial back every time someone flirts with you.”

You blink. “How do you know—?”

“I’ve been in love with you since you smiled at me over a shared syllabus and asked if I wanted to split the work evenly.” His voice wobbles, just a little. “I’ve been losing my mind every time you wear that hoodie. And I swear, I’ve had to stop myself from scenting you like an unhinged Alpha every time you lean on me.”

Your heart is pounding. Your hands clench in the sleeves.

You swallow. “You can.”

He stills. “What?”

“You can scent me. If you want.”

Your eyes find his, open and wide and a little glassy. “If you still want to.”

Suguru moves carefully, like you’re something holy.

He kneels in front of you, hands brushing up to cup your cheeks, slow and sure.

Then he leans in, lets his scent wrap around you in a warm, protective cradle. He noses into your neck, breath trembling.

You shiver — not from cold, but from finally.

And when he kisses you, it’s soft. Gentle. Like something that’s been building for ages.

You curl into him like gravity, like home.

Like his.

.

.

.

Bonus

You’re not sure when things shifted.

Maybe it was the kiss on the gym steps. Maybe it was when you started wearing his hoodie to bed. Maybe it was just the way Suguru touches you now, hands careful but sure, always grounding, always giving you the space to lean in first.

But tonight, there’s no space left between you at all.

You're perched on his lap on the edge of his bed, hoodie bunched around your thighs, his hands warm and slow at your waist. His lips are on your neck, just beneath your scent gland, and every time he exhales, you feel your spine curl like ribbon.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice husky against your skin. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You laugh, breathless. “Says the one who keeps dragging me into your lap.”

“You climbed into it.”

“You opened your arms!”

He grins, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, reverent, warm.

“I’m not complaining,” he says, dragging one hand up the back of your thigh, just under the hem of the hoodie. “But if you keep smelling like this, looking like this, wearing my clothes like you're mine—”

“I am yours,” you whisper.

Something in him snaps quietly at that.

He kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. His scent pulses around you like a heartbeat. His hands roam, never rough, but so hungry.

You can feel him start to tremble just slightly beneath you. Holding back. Always holding back.

“Suguru,” you murmur, “you don’t have to—”

And that’s exactly when the front door opens.

“Yo, you guys want takeout or— OH, NOPE—!”

You both jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

“GOJO.” Suguru’s voice is ragged, one hand flying up to shield your modesty while the other flails wildly toward the door. “GET OUT.”

“MY BAD. I SAW NOTHING. NOTHING. MAYBE A LITTLE LEG. I’M LEAVING. I’M GONE.”

The door slams shut.

There’s a long pause.

Then you burst out laughing, face tucked into Suguru’s shoulder.

He groans and leans back on the bed, pulling you down with him. “I’m going to murder him.”

You giggle. “You’d miss him.”

“I’d miss peace.”

He looks at you then,hair falling in his face, lips kiss-bitten, expression helpless.

“You really meant it?” he asks softly. “You’re mine?”

You nod, pressing your forehead to his. “Completely.”

And just like that, the flustered mess of a moment turns tender again.

He kisses you once more, reverent and slow, and mutters into your skin, “Next time, I’m locking the door.”

[obvithe-bestsoph]

when it hits, i'll be there.

masterlist requests word count: 1.6k

a/n: i'm really sorry everyone! i know i said i was going to post yesterday but I got injured pretty badly at my game and I'm out for the next few weeks so maybe more fics for you all lol. yeah, sorry again, I was just in a lot of pain and found it hard to get motivation for writing. anyway, enjoy! genre: angst to comfort warnings: social anxiety, panic attacks.

summary: you don’t mean to fall apart at his celebration, but when you do, it’s pedri who finds you - quietly, gently, like he’s always does.

You knew it was a mistake the moment the elevator doors opened. 

The lounge is packed. People laughing, clinking glasses. Cameras flashing. The hum of too many voices buzzing beneath the surface like static in your brain. You should’ve said no. Or stayed in the car. Or pretended you were sick. Or just said, “I’ll meet you later.”

But Pedri looked so happy. So excited to bring you this small post-match celebration for the Copa del Rey, a victory dinner for the team, nothing too huge, just the players, their partners, their families, and some staff.

Just enough people to make your hands go sweaty. 

You’ve never liked crowds. And lately, with general life stress and not much good sleep, your tolerance is even lower. You told yourself it would be. You’d stick close to him. Smile when necessary. One hour, maybe two. Then back to the hotel room. 

But within minutes, he’s swept into a conversation with Ferran, who’s waving over more teammates from across the room. Someone else offers you a drink. 

You take it. 

Not because you want it, or are thirsty, but because it gives you something to hold. Something to focus on. 

And when you finally catch Pedri’s eyes from across the room, you give him a small smile - a lie you’ve mastered. He sends one right back, warm and soft and proud. He mouths, “¿Estás bien (are you okay)?” 

You nod.

Lie number two. 

The room gets louder.

Someone near you spills their drink. Another person brushes against your back too close, too casually. The ceiling lights feel like interrogation beams. Your breath begins to shorten before you even notice. You can’t hear what the woman next to you is saying. You laugh anyway. 

Fake. Distant. 

You find a wall. Lean against it.

You scan for Pedri. He’s in conversation still, nodding, charming, his eyes crinkling as he laughs. You’re glad he’s happy. You don’t want to ruin that. 

But your heart is racing now, fast. Too fast. 

You try grounding yourself. Five things you can see. Four things you can touch.

Your palms sting.

Your chest tightens. 

Three things you can hear.

One - someone calling Pedri’s name.

Two - a phone camera clicking. 

Three - your own breath, stuttering and shallow. 

You can’t do this. 

You turn quickly, heading for the bathroom. You keep your face neutral. You don’t want anyone to stop you. If they try, you’ll cry. You know it. 

The hallway is better. Calmer. 

You walk through the restroom door, it’s quiet. That’s all you need.

You slip into the last stall, lock the door, and sit on the floor, back against the cubicle wall, curling into yourself, your hands trembling. Your chest is tightening, breath is coming too fast. Your knees press to your chest. You try to stay quiet. 

You can’t.

Your whole body feels like it isn’t listening to your brain, like it’s betraying you. Your breathing stutters. A whimper escapes. Your hands are icy cold, and your vision feels like it’s going dark at the edges. You clench your jaw, press your fists into the tops of your thighs. 

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

The sound of the bathroom door opening barely registers in your mind. 

You freeze.

Footsteps, measured and steady, moving softly across the bathroom tile. 

You hold your breath, heart pounding. Please don’t see me. Please don’t hear this. Please don’t know. 

There’s a pause just outside your stall. Then, the sound of someone shifting. Not leaving. Just… listening. 

It’s too late when you realise what gave you away.

Your shoes. The ones Pedri picked out and gifted you for your birthday. The same ones Rosy, his mamá, has complimented before the match. 

You’re not sure how long she will stand there. 

You know it’s her. She knows it’s you. Still, neither of you say anything. 

But then the footsteps move again and the bathroom door opens once more.

And closes. 

She’s gone. 

You’re trying to breathe, trying not to make noise, but your chest convulses, your ribs hurt, your fingers are numb and trembling. 

It’s not the first time.

But it’s been a while.

You feel small and ashamed. Embarrassed. You’d told Pedri things were fine. That you could handle it. And now you’re shaking on a random hotel bathroom floor like a scared little kid.

You try the counting thing again. Sometimes it helps. 

Five things. Five-

You’re still shaking, head spinning, world tilting, when the door opens again. 

Then, a voice you could recognise from anywhere. 

“¿Mi alma?”

Pedri. 

Your breath catches in your throat. 

“Can you open the door for me?” 

You feel like you can’t move in. Frozen in place. Frozen in time. But somehow, you find your hands shakily twisting the lock on the cubicle door. You barely get it open before just takes you in - crumpled on the floor, eyes wet, lips pale and trembling, your hands white-knuckled against your legs.

“Oh, Y/N…”

You turn your face, trying to hide. 

“Please go,” you choke out. “I’m okay… I just- I just need a second.”

He turns your face back to look at him. “No seas tonta (don’t be silly). You’re not ‘okay’ at all.”

You gently brush his hands off your cheeks. “You have people out there. Teammates and friends and- and- and I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

He looks at you like you’ve just stabbed him. 

“Embarrass me?” 

You feel his arms gently wrap around your back. He doesn’t try and pull you to your feet or move you at all. He just holds you there, grounded. Present. Calming. A hand running up and down your spine. 

“Amor, mírame (love, look at me).”

You do, slowly. 

“I would rather walk out of every press event, every match, every conversation in my life than ever see you suffer alone like this again. “No tienes que ocultármelo (you don’t have to hide this from me). No debería ser algo de lo que avergonzarte (it shouldn’t be something you’re ashamed of). Y a mí, desde luego, no me avergüenza (and i’m certainly not embarrassed of it).”

You hiccup softly, tears burning down your cheek. “I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

“My night is only good if you’re okay too.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, not caring if your smudged makeup gets on his shirt. “You’re not some burden to me, ¿lo sabes (you know)?”

You start crying again - this time, not from panic. Just overwhelmed. He holds you through it all. 

At some point, he sits down properly and pulls you sideways into his lap, your cheek pressed against his firm chest, his heartbeat right next to your ear. Strong and steady. 

Beating for you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, once the storm in your brain quiets. “It just… it hit so fast. I didn’t see it coming.”

“I know,” he murmurs, “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologise for how you react. That’s not really your fault.”

You shake your head weakly. “You’re not understanding. I’ve been doing better lately. I didn’t want you to think that I was getting bad again.”

Pedri tilts your chin so you have to look at him. 

“Going through something hard isn’t ‘getting bag again’. It’s being human. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The words feel soothing. 

Safe. Genuine. 

“Te amo,” you whisper, like it’s a secret.

“Te amo,” he whispers back, like it’s a promise. 

Minutes later, when your breath has steadied and the walls don’t feel so much like they’re closing in, he helps you to your fet. You feel shaky, but stronger with him beside you. 

“Do you want to leave?” he asks softly. 

You mod. 

He slips his hoodie over your head and walks the two of you out of the bathroom without a second thought. Doesn’t say goodbye to anyone. Doesn’t check over his shoulder to see if anyone is filming. 

Only keeps his arm snug around your waist.

The walk through the hotel is quiet. Peaceful.

His fingers never leave yours. 

When you reach the room, he helps you change into soft clothes, tucks a blanket around you, and brings you a drink. He doesn’t hover, helicopter or smother. He just stays close, offering quiet comfort the way only someone who really knows you can. 

At one point, you whisper, “Do you still want me to come to things like that? After today?”

Pedri looks genuinely confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t want to make you worry.”

“I’d rather be worried than smile without you.”

Your throat tightens again. 

“And, inevitably, when we do something like that again,” he adds, “We’ll have a aplan. We don’t even have to stay the whole time. We’ll make signals. We can go together, leave together. You never need to be stuck like that again.”

You lean into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck. His arms tighten around you. 

“I’m proud of you, you know?” he says quietly.

“For what?” “For being honest. For trying. For getting through it.”

You let the silence stretch for a while, but it’s warm now. Comfortable. 

Then you whisper something you hadn’t let yourself believe before;

“Thank you for not making me feel broken.”

He shakes his head against your hair. “You’re not broken. You’re the strongest person that I know.”

And he kisses you, it’s not rushed, dramatic or particularly passionate. Just slow. Certain. 

You fall asleep in his arms that night - not because you’ve forgotten how panicked and overwhelmed you felt, but because, for once, it doesn’t own you.

Because someone saw you at your worst… and stayed. 

And somehow, with him there, it starts making the world feel okay again.

[prettydaisygirl]

zombie AU with James Potter x fem!reader who is really sick ✿ 1.5k words

cw: zombie apocalypse, fem reader, reader is sick and needs medicine, James gets attacked by a zombie and kills it (described in detail), Sirius and Peter are missing, Remus has a knee injury

AN: After playing around with my Rafe Cameron zombie AU, I wanted to try it out with James. The vibes of the two AUs are very different though. Hope you all enjoy! <3

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

James has searched the pharmacy from top to bottom and he still hasn’t found what he’s looking for. He has a list of medications Remus said might help you, and James had the names memorized before he even got here. But it doesn’t matter, because the shelves are wiped completely clean. 

He curses and slams a fist down on an old metal one, and it collapses under the weight, creaking and landing with a loud boom that has James’ blood running cold. He stands completely still for a long moment, waiting, listening to see if anything heard him. He counts to 100 before he decides it’s safe to move. He climbs over the broken shelf, glancing over the pharmacy one more time before he gives up. 

James is admitting defeat and becoming more desperate to help you when he hesitates, eyes scanning the room again. Something caught his attention right… there.

A door that he hadn’t noticed, half hidden behind a bookshelf. James strides over quickly, placing his bat on the desk next to him while he uses his shoulder to shove the bookshelf out of the way. Remus would tell him to wait, make him question why the door was blocked. You would tell him not to bother with it at all, that the risk wouldn’t be worth it.

But neither of you are here. None of the people he needs are here. You’re sick, days of unconsciousness broken by brief moments of half-consciousness where you mumble, though those are getting fewer and further between. Remus has to watch you, not only to make sure you stay alive but also to nurse his injured knee. 

He doesn’t know what happened to Sirius and Peter. Or any of his other friends.

If James lets himself think about any of that for longer than a moment, he might collapse under the weight of everything. So, he doesn’t. He grunts as the bookshelf finally gives and the door is fully revealed to him. It’s nothing special. A plain white door now browned with age and decay. James’ isn’t surprised to find it locked.

With a heavy sigh, James stretches his neck for just a moment before slamming into the door once with his shoulder. It rattles heavily, but doesn’t give. James groans, taking a few steps back before lunging forward and ramming into the door with his shoulder again. It gives this time with the loud sound of splintering wood and James has to catch himself before he falls. He doesn’t have a chance to register any of his surroundings, or the putrid smell in the room. 

The moment he’s steady, he’s knocked off of his feet again. 

The zombie growls, biting at James as it claws at his skin. James yells loudly, trying to gather his bearings and he shoves the zombie off of him. It screams at him, lunging again but James is able to dodge toward the open door. He grabs his bat, swinging it at the zombie as it lunges for him a third time. The sound of bone cracking echoes in the small room and for a moment there’s silence. The room is only lit by the light coming in from the doorway, so James can’t see if the zombie is dead.

The zombie groans lowly, its limbs barely moving in James’ direction. Blood leaks from its head and James hits it once more to make sure it dies. He checks himself for bites or scratches, and finds he’s good, just nauseous. The smell of decay is strong in here.  

James keeps the bat in his hand, but reaches for his flashlight with the other. He presses the button and as light fills the room, hope fills James’ soul again. It’s a back stock of medication. The zombie must’ve been the pharmacist. 

James scrambles, grabbing every medication he can find, including all of the medications on Remus’ list. His bag is full, weighing down his already aching shoulders but he doesn’t mind. Despite the close-call, despite his initial failure, James leaves the pharmacy feeling lighter on his feet than he has in several weeks.

He barely makes it all the way to the abandoned house the three of you are staying in before it starts raining. The wind picks up outside as he slugs the bag off of his arm, digging for the medications Remus asked for. James rushes upstairs. 

“Hey,” He greets Remus as he steps into the bedroom. Remus is sitting in his chair by your bed, leg propped up with a book in his hand. James thinks it’s about dinosaurs or something. 

“She didn’t wake up at all while you were gone,” Remus says, and James feels some dread start to creep back in. He shakes his head, gesturing to the bottles in his hands.

“I found everything you asked for, plus some extra. The pharmacy had a back storage room, we could go back if we wanted.” 

Remus takes the bottles from James and nods, looking over at you. James returns downstairs to grab the rest of the medication and to recheck the house. He searches every room and finds everything secure and nothing out of place. Remus is slowly resettling into his chair when James finally comes back into the bedroom.

“Now what?” James asks him, sitting on the edge of your bed. He takes your hand in his gently, interlacing your fingers together. He wishes you would squeeze his hand back.

“Now we wait,” Remus offers with a hiss, his brows furrowing together painfully as he moves his knee the wrong way. He closes his eyes and James finds himself alone again as Remus eventually manages to fall asleep. 

James hates waiting. He always has, and especially with important things. And this, your survival, your ability to make it through this illness even though there aren’t doctors or nurses or hospitals anymore, is the most important thing to him right now.

His leg bounces as he holds your hand, watching you as you rest. He thinks you’re starting to look better, or maybe he is just fooling himself. He sits there, looking at you until he can see the sun rising above the horizon in the corner of his vision. His stomach eventually starts to ache with hunger and he moves away from your side solely to grab a snack, even returning to eat it while sitting on the edge of your bed. 

James doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he feels you begin to stir, and he startles awake. He grips your hand a bit tighter, watching as your eyes pinch closed and you let out an involuntary sound of discomfort. When you finally manage to peel your eyelids open, his face is the first thing you see, and you look relieved.

“Jamie…” You mumble his name so quietly he can barely hear you, throat catching from days without use.

“Hey,” James puts on his most soothing voice, “How are you feeling, huh?”

Your face scrunches as you try to move, and James hisses as he reaches toward you to try and stop you from moving too much. “I’m really sore…” You manage to croak.

James’ eyes are so soft you think you might melt into a puddle if the thought of moving didn’t make you want to curl up in a ball and cry. You don’t think you can even curl up in a ball right now, you ache so bad.

“You got sick,” James says, brushing a hand over your forehead. His fingers are incredibly gentle as he traces the outline of your features. “Remus and I have been looking after you. You’ve been sleeping for the better part of nine days now, angel. I was getting really worried about you."

You blink slowly at him, and then a small smile graces the corner of your lips. James returns it, the tip of his finger tapping the end of your nose, barely a touch but your smile grows. 

“Thanks for looking after me,” The words are stiff and raspy and it takes you a moment to get them out but you’d think you were singing opera with the sweet eyes James is giving you.

“No need to thank me, angel. Just get better.” James leans down to press a feather-light kiss to your forehead. It’s not burning up like it was before, and James is sure this time when he looks at you that you truly do feel better. You let your eyes fall shut again, and you don’t open them even when he pulls away, letting out a soft hum.

“Jamie?” His name leaves your lips quietly, but you know he can hear you. You know he is still there, even with your eyes closed.

“Yeah?” 

“I’m going back to sleep now,” You say, feeling the pull toward unconsciousness. James grasps your hand again, and it fills both of your hearts with warmth.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” James says softly.

And he is.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[sixteenhearts]

My Lestappen Fic List ♡

Ao3: mirrormirrora

(✔️ = Completed)

Fluff & Humour

1. Among US (Love Edition) ✔️

Summary: An anonymous account reveals that two drivers are secretly dating, and everyone assumes it's Max and Charles… Except for Max and Charles themselves... ?

2. Sun, Sea and Something Something ✔️

Summary: Where the boys go on a trip, post on social media, share stories in interviews and everyone on social media tries to connect the dots about the mysterious trip.

3. Call it What You Want ✔️

Summary: Five times Charles and Max tries to soft launch their relationship and fail, and one time they succeed without even trying.

4. Kissed and Confused ✔️

Summary: "Never have I ever kissed another driver from the current grid"

In which Charles, Max and Daniel confuses everyone, including themselves.

5. Sparks Fly ✔️

Summary: A journey through the years of Charles and Max's secret relationship.

Romance & Angst

6. Marry You (with paper rings) (ongoing)

Summary: Between being blackmailed by a creep, Max’s questionable plans (and his surprisingly impressive origami skills), and the chaos of married life, Charles is just trying to survive.

TW: Attempted Sexual Harassment, Non-Consensual Touching (not between lestappen)

7. All those shadows (almost killed your light) ✔️

Summary: When Max finds Charles disoriented outside a club, Pierre’s accusations reveal a darker mystery.

TW: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con

8. In the Stars ✔️

Summary: “Of course,” Pierre adds, smirking faintly, “when your best friend calls saying he’s somehow taking care of a ghost baby with his number one rival, you kind of have to show up, no?”

TW: Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death (not to lestappen), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse (not to lestappen)

9. He wanted a groom (I was making my own name) ✔️

Max proposes, Charles declines. The aftermath devastates.

10. Even after all this time (I'm still into you) ✔️

Summary:

Charles_leclerc posted

Hello Everyone. Max and I have decided to end our relationship and remain good friends. We have shared so many great moments and he is and will always be a very special person to me. Please respect our decision and respect our privacy at a time like this. Thank you.

11. and now we lie awake (making beautiful mistakes) ✔️

Summary: Max and Charles occasionally hook up. Everyone has opinions.

Lestappen AU

Alternate Universe - Pirate

12. I'm afraid (of all I am) ✔️

Summary: "I decided the moment you stepped onto this ship that you were worth everything."

Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers

13. Our Love (is untouchable) (Ongoing)

Summary: “Whatever you do, do not let Max touch you.”

Max puts up walls (metaphorically). Charles walks through walls (literally).

[ilona2nerrie]

SuperBat Mer au: Part five, Bruce is gone. Clark has to find a pup, and Jason gets netted.

People tagged:

@ancientdreams-in-a-modernland

@pettitneko

@random-generated-name

@sofia-gosth-blog

Parts of story before this:

Part one linked: Clark finds himself a friend. Bruce finds himself a meal ticket.

Chapter Two: Clark almost gets caught. Bruce tries to communicate with him.

Part three linked: Bruce shows off his pup and Clark learns to communicate.

Chapter Four: Clark meets the family. Bruce needs a nap.

More Mer types for you all!

Tim: Bluecheek Butterflyfish

(I think this one really suits him, and their known to follow people and groups! You know, like Tim’s habit? Ok, sorry.)

Damian: green cichlids

(Their verry aggressive fish, with a strange beauty that match their colour. And even though they cause harm they can be happy in the right environment. Wink, wink.)

Enjoy the story!

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Clark expected a normal day when he woke up. Maybe go to see Bruce, maybe not. He wasn’t really sure what the day was bringing. Until dick slammed open the door of the justice League meeting room with two pups in tow, looking for Clark and ignoring the protests of who was supposed to be on guard duty that day.

“Clark! I need your help!” dick practically shouted, ducking under the guards grabbing hands once more and pulled the other two to Clark’s seat, ducking behind it defensively from the guard.

Diana waved the guard off before staring at Clark, with a look that clearly said he had some explaining to do. Dick was still panting and halfway to tears and Clark, actually decided to ignore Diana. This was so much more important.

“What’s happened?” Clark asked, crouching down and taking dicks hand in his own. “Where’s your dad?”

“I don’t know!” dick sobbed, rubbing his eyes and staring at Clark. “We were playing in the shallows, and I know dad said don’t go there alone, but he found us, right? But- but then there were boats- and Jason was a bit too far away from us so he was in prime spot for when they could get him- and dad went to save Jason, but they got him two- and now I have Tim and Damian, I didn’t know who else to go to! And now there on a boat, and-“

Clark shushed him, putting his hand on the back of dicks neck comfortingly and trying not to panic internally. It was a bit scrambled what dick said, but what the gist of it was, was that Jason was taken by humans, and trying to save him Bruce was Aswell. Which was not good in any way.

“Clark? What’s going-“ Diana started but was cut off from an actual glare from the other.

“I have to go.” Clark said, standing.

“Clark no,” Aurthur started. Whatever’s happening it can wait; we’ve got a meeting-“

“With all due respect Aurthur, I couldn’t care less. Now, you listen to me. This is Dick, Tim, and Damian. These are my children. You will all take care of them no questions asked. You don’t get to know what I’m doing, but that’s more important. Mt family will always be more important. So shut up, take care of my kids, and ill be back when I’m back. Ok?”

No one spoke. Clark had never been so firm. Or terrifying. No one knew what exactly to say. When Clark saw he was acknowledged he kneeled back down to dick.

“These people you can trust, ok? I’m going to get your dad and brother. Stay together, you’re such a brave kid, ok? You always come to me. Ill be back in no-“

“I think I like being your kid Clark.”

At dicks words Clark wanted to melt into a pile of mush and happiness. But he didn’t have time, so he pressed a soft kiss onto dicks forehead. “I like being your dad.” He muttered before nodding and speeding out of the league building, leaving the others a batch of overwhelmed, and very stubborn kids.

Clark swam through the water like a bat out of hell, desperately weaving through as he searched for any sign of human activity, ears straining to hear anything at all. He went up to the shallows before examining the area thoroughly before finding some shrapnel, seems Bruce put up a strong fight. Good man. And he pulled it closer to himself. He couldn’t read the language, but it was some Asian language, which meant they were going back into the ocean to get back to their home.

Which meant he still had time to find Bruce.

He ignored the cold that seemed into his bones as he left the reef, and the twilight zone. Swimming further into the ocean then he’s ever swum as he went to go fins his Bruce and Jason. Part of his family. He couldn’t just leave them behind. This time? There was no room for error allowed.

Clark was starting to panic when he got a whiff of something in the water. Blood, Bruces blood. He could track it to the boat! But… Bruce was bleeding. Oh, hell no, people gonna die.

Tracking the blood with a burning rage in the back of his skull wasn’t the easiest thing he’s done. But definitely the thing he hasn’t regretted even once, as he continued till, he saw a ship in which the scent was just dripping off it.

Now, Clark could’ve been subtle about this. But he honestly didn’t care and was far too angry to consider anything but getting the two back. So, it came as a big surprise when he climbed up the side of the boat and just threw a guy off. The humans seemed almost intimidated of Clark’s size, and that made him so much angrier.

They didn’t mind kidnapping a pup and its parent huh? But when they have to take on a bigger Mer they minded? What a load of absolute bullshit.

Clark narrowed his eyes at one of the poachers and fixed him with a gaze that could melt steel. Literally. The man seemed to get what the other was after, because he pointed to a crate before jumping onto a raft like the other two men left. Cowards. Not that Clark was thinking of that now, as he instead went closer to the crate and open it up to fins a whimpering up clutching to an unconscious Bruce with blood dripping down his forehead. And Clarks heart nearly stopped.

Now, he knew Bruce was alive, he could hear his pulse. But that didn’t stop the fact that he was hurt. He clutched Jason to his side and pulled Bruce out of the crate, then falling backwards into the ocean to get the two some much needed water.

Since Jason seemed contented with clutching onto him like a backpack Clark focused on Bruce, checking the other man and making sure he was alright. About halfway through Bruce stirred, head pounding and pain shooting through his body as he stared up at Clark.

The two met eyes and Bruce tilted his head, “cl... ark?” he tried. Clark had never heard Bruce even try speaking before, so hearing his name, even fragmented and a bit strange was surreal, and damn he had a beautiful voice. Jason seemed to have not heard his father’s voice either because he chirped, swimming around and slotting himself into Bruce arms.

Bruce loosely wrapped sore arms around Jason, pulling himself up despite the discomfort to lean on Clark’s chest.

Clark pulled the other closer, starting on his way home as he mumbled reassurance.

“It’s ok, your other kids are safe and with my friends. They won’t let anything happen to them. Just stay with me, I’ll take you home.”

(Hello friends! Here’s another chapter, quite a long one this time! 1300 words, woof. Anyway, you wanna be tagged please let me know. Previous chapters are at the start and please leave a comment, it means so much to me. Thank you and I hope you enjoy!)

[kyokutsu-sama]

Happy Birthday

Kyojuro x f!reader|modern au!fic

A/n: TODAY IS MY MAN'S BIRTHDAY🧡🧡🧡💛💛And since I obviously couldn't remain indifferent, I brought him something very special. I love this man so much and I just hope I can find someone like him in my life😭😭🥹✨️✨️

I love you Kyojuro💛 happy birthday🥳✨️

Tw: Nsfw

Today was your husband's birthday and you decided to surprise him by using all the time you had while he was away to prepare a lot of things. You then decided to wear the beautiful red dress you bought a few days ago thinking about the occasion and prepare a great dinner for him. Especially, including the wonderful sweet potatoes that he liked and that made his eyes shone. And he also loved the way you made the food taste even better.

You went to the kitchen and turned off the oven, taking out the cake you were making. You started decorating it and once it was ready, you put it in the fridge. Then you started putting the plates and took the platters to the dining table, when you heard the front door open.

"I'm home!" Kyojuro said, taking off his shoes and taking off his coat, putting it on the hanger

You then adjusted your hair and took off your apron, going to the door to welcome him.

"Babe! How are you doing?" You opened your arms and hugged him

"Happy to see you again." He hugged you and kissed the top of your head

"That's what I say. I missed you." You said, pulling away a little from the hug just so you could look at him

"Me too, I miss you so much, my angel." He smiled before kissing you."May I know what that good smell is?" He murmured against your lips and you smiled

"I could say it's one of the best perfumes I had, but I think you're referring to the delicious food I was making before you arrived, namely the sweet potatoes." You whispered in his ear and he hummed

"That sounds so good to me." He chuckled."My mouth is watering just hearing that."

"Why don't we go to eat first?" You suggested

"But I'm not even dressed up and you look so majestic, don't you think--" You put a finger on his lips, silencing him

"You look great as always, my dear. Now, come with me." You said and he took your hand, kissing your knuckles and smiling at you

"What should I do with you..." He said and you smiled, holding his hand and led him to the dining room

When he approached the table and saw everything well-set and the food, he felt his heart warm with the beautiful surprise you had made.

"Y/n, I... I think I fell in love with you again now." He said and you giggled

"I made this thinking about you since today is your birthday. I hope you liked it."

"I loved it." He held your face and placed a peck on your lips and then on your forehead. "You're so adorable."

The warmth and love that man transmitted to you was something so unique and so pure that it made you feel so good and loved next to him. And little did he know that you also fell in love with him again whenever he said nice things to you and treated you so well and kindly. Like a true gentleman would treat a lady.

He then pulled out the chair for you and you sat down, he sat down soon after, so you could both start dinner.

"Tasty!" He said when he finished the dish and you smiled. "Thank you for the food and for the love you put into making it. Only you could make something so good." He placed his hand over yours on the table

"And when it's for my dear husband, I try even harder." You said, putting your wine glass on the table and he smiled

"I'm very flattered and grateful."

"Don't say that yet, I still have something else you'll like to see." You winked, getting up from the table and he looked at you with a curious look

"Where are you going?" He asked and you smiled

"Just give me a moment." You left the room and went to the kitchen

He looked at you as you left, curious to know what you were planing. After a short moment, he heard your footsteps and looked back, open-mouthed at what he was seeing. You approached the table, holding the tray with the cake you had made for him.

"Look what I have here for you, my dear."You said, placing the cake on the table and he could contain a laugh

"You always leave me speechless, my love. I don't know what to say, you're so... I don't know, you're so sweet, adorable, cute, perfect, wonderful, all the good things that exist." He said, standing up and covering your cheeks with kisses and hugging you

"You're going to make me emotional by calling me those cute things." You said, hugging him back

"I'm sorry, but that's what I'm feeling right now." He broke away from the hug and you looked at him with a smile, caressing his cheeks. "You really made a work of art, I can see."He looked at the cake

"All that's left is to light the candles and sing happy birthday to you."

"Then, let's light them."

You then took the matches and passed the flame over the wicks of the candles and once they were lit, you started singing happy birthday to him, who couldn't stop smiling during the moment.

He then blew out the candles and you applauded, his hands went to your waist and kissed you. It was gentle and chaste, to show how proud he was of you and how grateful he was for having you in his life.

"Thank you for everything, Y/n." He said

"No need to thank me, I did everything for love."

The first slice was cut by you to serve him, he received the plate and when he tasted the wonderful cake you had made, he delighted in every bite. You helped yourself to the second slice and felt proud of yourself for the work you had done.

"I don't think there will be any crumble left because this tastes too good." He said, licking his lips

"This night is all yours, so do whatever you want."

"I would like to, but I think I'll save it for tomorrow morning. It always tastes better the next day."

"You're right."

The two of you each helped yourselves to another slice. It was a funny and special moment for both of you. And to end the night on a high note, you decided to give him one last surprise.

The candles were already lit and the lights were off to give the space a low and comforting lighting. You even put on some background music to make the atmosphere even more pleasant before approaching him, who was standing next to the table and drinking from the glass of wine in his hand, his bright eyes lifted to see you.

"May I invite the gentleman to dance with me?" You asked him and he smiled, placing the glass back on the table

"I would be delighted to accept, my lovely lady." He took your hand and you both walked to the center of the room

One hand holding yours and the other on your waist, your bodies close and making slow movements to the sound of the music. You ran your other hand over his shoulder, leaning your forehead against his and listening to the light sound of his breathing.

"You look so beautiful today my love." He murmured. "That red dress suits you perfectly."

"Thank you, my love. I made sure to pick out a really nice one for your birthday. I wanted to look really pretty for the occasion."

"And you rocked it. Even though I could have dressed better too."

"Babe, you look fine because you are perfect." You said, reaching your hands for his tie and tugging it lightly to give him a peck

"If my lady says so, who am I to disagree." He smiled

You ran your hands down his shirt, reaching for his shoulders and holding them there while his gave your waist a light squeeze, pulling your body closer to his.

"My dear husband... Is there anything else I can do to please you tonight?" You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking from his lips to his eyes

"Well, I didn't mind have you on my lap, drinking wine, looking at those pretty eyes of yours as we talk or make-out, but It's up to you, my lovely wife."

"Wow, you're feeling romantic, I see. I think I can fulfill your wishes then."You said, undoing his tie and placing it on the couch arm."I could also stay the rest of the night looking at those bright eyes, I could also make-out with you until I fall asleep with your lips on mine. I could do anything."Your fingers were unbuttoning the first bottons of his shirt, reveling an half of his broad chest and collarbone which make you bite your bottom lip."Oh Kyo, how I love you, my dear."You sighed before kissing him

Both mouths got involved in a intense kiss, your fingers began to unbutton the rest of his shirt and he helped you, sliding it down his arms and tossed it aside. You slid a hand up to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss as his hands went up your waist reaching the straps of your dress and sliding them down. You broke the kiss for a moment to take the dress off and to held his face to kiss him again.

You didn't know if it was the taste of the wine in his tongue or his touch, but you could feel the heat of the space rising. You could guess that it wasn't just the drink but him, he was transmitting heat, a heat that was usually pleasant but at that moment, it burned intensely.

He pulled away from your lips for a moment and looked at your figure from head to toe, he was speechless for what he had in front of him. Both you and your body were beautiful in his eyes.

"And it seems like you also rocked the lingerie." His eyes roamed all over your body.

"You liked it?"

"Yes, you look wonderful and it's red like the dress."

"And it's also your favorite color, right?"

"It is, my dear wife. You're always surprising me." He kissed your hand before kissing your lips

He put his hands on your hips and lifted you up to laid you down on the couch, placing himself on top of you.

"What happened to the romantic make-out session?" You teased

"We can save it for another day since my lovely wife managed to take me down another path." He said, making you chuckle

"Don't you like it when I take you down other paths? The ones where it can just be the two of us?" You brought your hands to his face and he smiled

"Oh honey, you have no idea how much I love it."

"Then come with me, let's go to a path, just you and me and where you can enjoy your best gift." You whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine

"With pleasure, my love." He said before attacking your lips

One of his hands went around your back to take off your bra and throw it aside, revealing your breasts, which his mouth didn't take long to left your lips to lick and suck around them. Your fingers found his golden hair while his mouth and hands were busy kissing and kneading them. You arched your back towards his face, giving him more access to that area.

A hand slid down your waist until it reached the middle of your legs, caressing your slit covered in red lace with his fingertips. You let out a soft moan at the touch of his fingers and his mouth leaving one of your breasts with a strong suction.

"You are by far the best gift I'm having tonight." He said, going to meet your lips again

His hands held the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs and throwing them aside. The kiss was broken so he could go down on you and bring his mouth to the pulsating clit, begging for attention, the same one he was about to give.

He then began to give light licks and sucks on the sensitive spot, his thumb passing from top to bottom, opening your folds and spreading the moisture over that area. You brought your fingers to your golden hair, trying to relieve the tension inside you, his mouth did wonders and you were going to the heights.

Your head tilted back, your toes curling as he used two fingers to tease your entrance before thrusting them in and out at a pace that was initially slow.

"Ngh~ Kyo... right there." You hissed, writhing as his fingers hit that one spot inside you

He looked up to see your face in pleasure and couldn't help but smirk at how well he was working you and how wet you were

"Come for me, my love. I can feel you close." He said, speeding up the pace of his fingers and tongue

You felt your walls tighten around his calloused digits inside you and that was when moments later you felt the wave of pleasure crash over you and your sweet nectar drip down his fingers as he tasted them.

"Having two desserts after a meal was undoubtedly one of the best gifts I received today." He said, leaning forward and resting one forearm above your head

"And... can I ask which was the best one?" You asked, breathlessly

"The best?" He brought his mouth to your ear whispering, "Having you all to myself all night."

"I'm glad to know that I'm making your birthday even better."

"Not just my birthday but my whole life too, baby." He kissed you

Your hands went to the belt of his pants to unfasten it, then lowered the zipper before pulling them down along with his underwear. He left your lips to help you remove the last clothes he still wore. He adjusted himself between your legs, stroking himself a few times and making you lick your lips at the sight in front of you.

He then brought his cock to your entrance, passing the head through the slit a few times before slowly thrusting himself in until his hips met yours.

One of his hands was holding on to the couch cushion and the other on your hip, you let out a moan at the feeling of being filled but soon felt your walls relax around him. You were seeing stars and your body was trembling, begging him to move. He noticed and it was then that he began to move slowly, pulling away until his cock was halfway in and slamming back inside you.

He lowered himself slightly, his lips reaching your neck to kiss it as your hands reached the hard muscles of his back, drawing red lines with your nails. He groaned against your ear not only because of it but also the way you clenched around him every time he thrusted.

This only made him go faster and deeper into you, your mouth opening to release a whimper when he hit your cervix. He was going deep, and deep enough to make your eyes roll back and your legs tighten around his waist to keep him even closer. Your vision was blurry, lost in the pleasure that only he could give. Not only that but also how beautiful he looked right now.

At some point, he had untied his hair, letting it fall over his face and the red tips brushing against your face with his movements. The muscles in his abdomen contracted every time his hips went back and forth against yours, beads of sweat running down his skin and tracing the muscles of his chest and back. He was simply the most beautiful man you had ever seen. Inside and out.

Your breath came out shakily as his hand on your hip found your bud again to rub and roll it between his fingers.

"Kyo...Mmm~ I'm gonna come..." You whispered between moans and small cries

"Come baby, come for me...Show me how much you love me." He murmured with a deep, hoarse voice in your ear

He speed up the pace of his thrusts and fingers and in sync they both took you to the height of pleasure, making your hips lift off the couch, meeting his and your nails digging even deeper into his skin.

"Kyojuro..." You sobbed, feeling his fingers still playing with your overstimulated spot

He then brought his hand from there to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb and kissing your lips softly.

"I'm close... You're taking me to the edge by tightening me like that." He panted against your lips. "My lovely wife, would you like to be filled to the brim? To feel my heat fill you completely?" His words undoubtedly almost made you come again

"Yes... Ohh yes, I do." You nodded, kissing him again, muffling the sounds you released

He felt you clenched around him once more and that was the last straw for him. He moaned in your ear as he came, filling your thight cunt. When he looked down and saw the mess he had made, he felt like going for a second round, but seeing you panting and your legs shaking, he refrained.

"Damn, that was..." You panted

"The best gift I've ever had." He finished your sentence and you smiled. "Thank you, my beautiful wife. You make this day even more special." He said placing a few kisses on your lips

"No need to thank me." You held his face."Happy birthday, my love." You murmured, kissing his lips

"Thank you, my dear."

[itsvae10]

…I think he’s going insane

[im-kinno-hello]

and if i made a comic about them making a blog for the weird demon dog they found in the woods just because they are being brainwashed by it and it told them they need to spread the word of what word they don’t even fucking know?

[perfeline]

art block has my ass in a chokehold rn

deciding to post some things I managed to get done

[quinn-pop]

okay fine i’ll bring back the egg. sorry for the pun but i’ve been sitting on this for a while because i can’t decide what to name them

(thinking they/he???)

they love being warm and must be approximately as snug as a bug in a rug at all times <3

didn’t give much context before but we’re going with that the egg was abandoned in winter horns and recovered by a group of waddle explorers

there wasn’t a lot of (known) writing on dedede’s species so figuring out what to do from there was kinda hard and they didn’t really know anything for certain, but between a little research, a gut feeling, and dedede and mk already used to Parenting, they passed the egg onto them to look after and well. yeah

it was definitely a rollercoaster for dedede, to be given hope that there were others like him after all - so it was only natural he’d take it very seriously. he spends a lot of time with them and they’re very clingy because of it. he says they’re like a duckling

being so big also comes with problems because as clingy as they are, they outgrew being able to be held by other people pretty fast lol

“meta pls stop looking like ur gonna punt our kid”

anyway i guess i’ll introduce the other kid next? between the two of them uhh dedede had a very tiring few years. stay at home dad problems i guess. on top of being a king lol

he probably realized how grateful he was that kirby was so independent lol..

the real enemy is everyone (meta especially) having a busy schedule

[cookinary]

In regards to my AU where the bosses join Chai’s side instead of exploding, reaching Kale be like:

[nomsfaultau]

SBI SCP AU character playlists

Tommy:

Rose by The Oh Hellos (I mean I'm doing an entire animatic wip, it fits and I have essays to prove it. Anyway violence, the power of names/narratives, truth, hypocrisy, how sacrifice and love tie together.)

Sunken City by David Wirsig (Tubbo associations, mostly symbolic/vibes past the prison break. The euphoria of escaping and how the world beyond is confusing and unrecognizable. The idea of journeying with a friend to the ruins of what was once your life. 6th verse as finding a new home in found family. 'God free me from the burden of my thoughts')

Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives (Tubbo, and how Tommy tries to distance himself to protect them/is the only reason Tubbo stays in a group with people they abhor. Touch starvation, hands as dangerous, seeing himself as a monster/burden. Again. Did an animatic for this one.)

Wilbur (yes they're all by Will Wood for the bit):

Misanthrapologist by Will Wood (Philza, for their light/dark dynamic and untangling of Wilbur's loathing of society and himself. WHiT Constellations interlude. I imagine 'can't keep a straight face while I'm praying' as Phil trying to get Wil to meditate but they end up laughing + 'don't you revolve around someone else' as a chide to Philza post Anderson's death)

Love Me, Normally (If he were honest with himself. Wilbur is wracked with jealousy for humanity that he disguises as hatred. Die young mentality, insomnia, bridge 2 addressed to the void, 'Is it courageous or escapist to leave the quarantine when you’re contagious?' as a comment on the danger of anomalies and if they should be contained)

BlackBoxWarrior (An entire life spent running from the Foundation and their experiments + trauma, repressing the past, general void madness, 'a map to every victim of his love' as the scars the void has left)

The Blade:

Red Water Dreams by Aviators (The sea motif of the voices, being a vessel for The Blood God, finding blame in those who unleashed his apocalyptic revenge. The entire chorus fits so well. 'Vicious thoughts are stirring/And I hunger for their power')

Paralyzed by Aviators (He's just an Aviators boy, what can I say, it's the violence and upbeat tempos man. Really this is The Blood God's song. His challengers as a duty to cull, as he's forced to hunt down every last foe that laid a hand upon his vessel. The thrill of battle, impending doom, 'I will give you one fair chance' because he really does seek a good fight. The Blade is the one paralyzed, unable to do anything but watch as his body is used for destruction)

Turn Out the Lights by The Crane Wives (Because The Blade does actually handle The Blood God/voices pretty well. I feel this song captures the way he just sorta rolls his eyes and shrugs off the intrusive thoughts most of the time)

Philza:

Rule #9 - Child of the Stars by Fish in a Birdcage (Wilbur as a wanderer, but works for any Collected for fostering their growth. Father vibes. Philza raising his children to be strong, independent people. A gentle expectation of greatness, because he picks out the exceptional among humanity)

Hot Tea by Half Alive (His sheer adoration of his Collected, also fun to swap the roles so that it is the god showing devotion. The pure warmth and sweetness matches Philza. In retrospect I need a song about protective violence but eh I set a 3 song limit.)

Time Machine by Miracle Musical (Amnestic arc. Particularly with loneliness and the vehemence in 'look at what you've done now to me', as well as 'I'm leaving today, today' with his confused insistence that he leaves at the end of the week. The way Philza is dragged in and out of grief at the whims of the Foundation, left free floating and disorientated)

Tubbo:

Soap by The Oh Hellos (Actual perfect Tubbo song. WHiT Croplands interlude. Themes of pacifism, how Tubbo is made of pieces, the separation between humans and anomalies and how the Hivemind can cross that barrier. Learning when to let go/hold on with the Tommy, Hive members, Willow. The 2nd chorus as Rhodes trying to convince Tubbo to leave Tommy in Jasper, with the response of 'I think that you’re worth (keeping around/holding onto)' to both Rhodes and Tommy's Never Love an Anchor. And imagining Tubbo saying the last stanza to Tommy makes me so soft)

Escapism by Rebecca Sugar (Dissociation. Grey chapter in general, specifically Pewter for being firm in convictions: 'shouldn't show a trace of doubt' and telling Rosalind the sacrifice won't hurt them, as well as trying to force a dissociative episode when their hand is sawed off)

Saint Bernard by Lincoln (ok this is a troll but also fits well for Cinnabar and Old Gauze. The guilt of failing one's morals. Technically Tubbo is in Indiana satanic and chained up, but I'll let it slide. The Saint Calvin verse is so good for the Rhodes-Tommy tension + Foundation destroying families. Also the way Tubbo blames their self-loathing on Rosalind, making the chorus apt for the Hivemind mess) (but also its funny to give Tubbo the classic edgy character song)

(Bonus) Dr. Blake:

Take Me to War by The Crane Wives (She sees herself as forced to be ruthless to survive against powerful anomalies. 'And I'll rankle the beasts with words' for her manipulation. Also epithets in the dehumanizing way the Foundation avoids names. Verse 3 is Tubbo 'corrupting' the guards when they saved humans from Philza)

Solaria, Kevin / End-World Normopathy by GHOST (Tommy, with religious themes and verse 5/Kevin understood as The Blood God. The cold cruelty of the Foundation, sentience as a failure/flaw in a tool (Tommy), Dr. Blake completely separating her personal and professional selves because to have humanity is only a weakness anomalies will exploit. 'Though you’ll never die, you’ve found that/All eyes are staring at your hands' is an absolutely perfect line for summoning sessions)

[sixeyesonathiel]

diet pepsi

pairing — brother’s bsf!satoru x fem reader

synopsis : satoru always saw you as suguru’s little sister—until you came back different, and dangerous to want. fighting it should be easy, but summer has a way of breaking rules. and some mistakes feel too good to stop making.

tags — childhood friends au, mutual pining, summer romance, beach setting, forbidden romance, brother’s best friend trope, fluff, eventual smut, explicit sexual content, public sex (car), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, pussy drunk satoru, overstimulation, virgin reader if u squint, unprotected piv sex, pull out method, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, possessive behavior, alcohol use, 13.9k wc. 18+ only, MDNI.

a/n : i tried dialogue heavy writing instead of my usual sensory and internalization on one bit and all i can say is im never doing it again it felt so icky im so sorry TvT art is not mine, i am in the middle of finding the source ><

five years vanish like smoke, curling into nothing.

summer presses heavy on the cracked asphalt, heatwaves shimmering like ghosts rising from the dunes. the pop-up ice cream stand sags under the sun’s relentless weight, its faded awning flapping lazily in the salty breeze.

satoru leans against suguru’s rusted truck, sunglasses slipping down his nose, a greasy bag of fries teetering on his knee. they’re parked beside the shack, the lull in customers letting them sink into idle chatter, cheap food, and the sticky rhythm of a beachside summer.

he’s mid-bite—salt and vinegar stinging his tongue, sweat trickling down his neck—when he hears it.

a laugh.

not just any laugh.

bright and sharp, it cuts through the cicadas’ drone and the surf’s restless crash like a blade through silk.

he looks up, annoyed first—who’s that fucking loud?—then stunned, breath punched out of him like he’s taken a fist to the chest.

you step into view like you’ve walked out of a dream he didn’t know he was having, framed by the blazing sky and the ocean’s glitter. alone, you drag a beat-up duffel bag, its strap slung over your shoulder, sneakers kicking up little clouds of sand. the sundress you wear—white, gauzy, catching the breeze—clings to your thighs, the hem flirting with every step. 

a wide-brimmed beach hat sits tilted on your head, casting dappled shadows across your face, and your hair, sun-lightened and wild, spills down your back like it’s daring the wind to tame it.

you’re older. taller. you move with a confidence that scrapes at satoru’s ribs, leaves them raw and aching. you’re gorgeous in a way that feels like a hazard, like a spark too close to dry tinder. you shine, bright and untouchable, and he’s caught, staring, helpless.

his fry drops to the pavement, forgotten.

“yo,” suguru says, elbow jabbing satoru’s side, hard enough to rattle the truck. “you good, or did the sun fry your brain?”

satoru can’t answer. his tongue’s too thick, his heart’s lodged somewhere near his ankles. all he can do is watch you, the way your dress shifts with each step, the way your hat tilts as you turn your head, scanning the beach.

then you see them.

your face splits into a grin so bright it dims the sky, and satoru feels the ground tilt beneath him.

“satoru!” you shout, waving with a reckless joy that cracks the world open.

he pushes off the truck, heart hammering like it’s trying to break free, shoving his sunglasses up to hide the way his eyes are drinking you in. he hopes suguru doesn’t notice, hopes the heat crawling up his neck doesn’t betray him.

he saunters over, all false swagger, pretending his knees aren’t loose, pretending he’s still the same satoru who used to tease you mercilessly. “long time no see, squirt,” he drawls, flicking the brim of your hat. it’s a mistake—the hat makes you look too fucking cute, the way it frames your face, the way it dares him to keep looking.

you laugh, breathless and bright, and before he can brace himself, you throw your arms around his neck.

he freezes, arms caught mid-air, your warmth slamming into him like a wave. your body presses close—soft, real, burning through the thin fabric of his shirt. your scent, something sweet and sun-warmed, wraps around him, and he’s drowning, his hands hovering before instinct takes over.

he wraps you up, too tight, too desperate, your curves fitting against him like you were made for it. your fingers fist into the back of his shirt, a brief, greedy clutch, and he feels the tremor in your grip, the way it lingers one second too long.

then you pull away, leaving him blinking, bereft, his skin tingling where you touched.

suguru joins a moment later, his lazy grin in place, oblivious to the storm raging in satoru’s chest. “didn’t know you were back today,” he says, pulling you into a quick hug. “would’ve picked you up from the station.”

he ruffles your hair, that annoying big-brother move, and you swat at him, your hat tilting precariously. “someone needs extra hands at the stand,” suguru continues, slinging an arm around your shoulders, his fondness clear in the crinkle of his eyes. “and since you’re back in town with nothing better to do…”

he’s teasing, but there’s warmth there, a quiet pride in having you close again. satoru watches, jaw tight, as you lean into suguru’s side, your ease with him sparking something sharp and ugly in his chest. it’s not jealousy—not of suguru, never that—but something else, something that claws at him, hot and restless.

“figured you’d be perfect,” suguru adds, smirking at satoru now, like he knows something’s off. “plus, toru here was whining about being bored.”

“was not,” satoru mutters, kicking at the sand, heat climbing his neck. he’s lying, and suguru knows it—satoru’s been restless all summer, chasing distractions to fill the hollow in his gut.

you laugh again, sweet and effortless, sweeter than the cotton candy sold at the stand. it’s a sound that hooks into satoru’s ribs, pulls tight, leaves him aching.

“c’mon,” suguru says, already turning toward the road. “my treat. diner time?”

it’s tradition.

that shitty little diner down the road, with its cracked vinyl booths and milkshakes so thick you need a spoon. the three of you used to haunt it every summer, sprawled across a booth, stealing fries, laughing until your sides hurt. nostalgia hits satoru like a fist, sharp and sudden. he’s fourteen again, all knees and elbows, stomach hollow with a hunger he couldn’t name.

“last one there buys dessert,” you chirp, already jogging ahead, duffel bag bouncing against your hip, sneakers flashing white against the sand. your sundress flutters, catching the light, and satoru’s eyes linger too long on the curve of your calves, the sway of your hips.

he tells himself you’re off-limits, a mantra he’s worn thin over the years. you’re suguru’s little sister, untouchable, a line he’d never cross. but the air smells like salt and possibility, and you feel like a second chance he didn’t know he needed.

he’s marching after you before he can stop himself, pretending he’s still just satoru—your brother’s idiot friend, the guy who used to pull your pigtails and sneak you extra ice cream. pretending he’s not burning up inside, pretending the rules still hold when you’re close enough to touch, close enough to taste.

pretending he’s not already, irreversibly, fucked.

the diner sits like a time capsule at the edge of town, neon sign buzzing like a trapped firefly, its pink and blue glow flickering against the dusk. same warped menu boards, same cracked vinyl booths, same sticky linoleum floor that clings to your sneakers.

nothing ever changes here, and satoru both loves and hates it—loves the way it holds you in its amber, hates how it reminds him of everything he’s tried to outrun. it’s the backdrop to a thousand memories, all of them sharp with you and suguru.

you slide into the booth across from him, your sundress whispering against your thighs, beach hat tossed beside you like an afterthought. satoru’s hyperaware of his knees brushing the air just shy of yours under the chipped formica table, the space between you electric, too small.

suguru slips in next to you, casual as ever, but there’s a protective edge in the way his arm drapes across the booth’s back, fingers grazing the vinyl an inch from your shoulder.

“so,” suguru says, sliding a laminated menu your way, its edges curling like old paper, “college treating you okay?”

you shrug, lips curving into a half-smile that catches the diner’s dim light. “it’s just school. nothing as exciting as the beach.”

“she’s being modest,” satoru teases, forcing his voice to stay light while his pulse hammers, your nearness a live wire under his skin. “probably acing everything.”

your eyes flick to his, a hint of pink blooming high on your cheeks, soft and fleeting like a sunset. “hardly. nearly failed calculus last semester.”

“you? fail math?” satoru grins, leaning forward, the memory of you hunched over graph paper, explaining equations to him and suguru, vivid as yesterday. “impossible.”

“college math is different,” you protest, but you’re smiling, holding his gaze a second too long, your lashes casting faint shadows.

suguru glances between you, eyebrow twitching upward before he grabs a menu, oblivious to the way satoru’s heart stumbles. “food’s still exactly the same here. bet they haven’t cleaned the grill since we were kids.”

“that’s what makes it good,” you say, laughing, the sound bright and warm, like the clink of sea glass against the shore. “nothing beats greasy diner food after a day at the beach.”

the waitress appears, pen poised, her gaze lingering on satoru, lips curving in a way that’s too sweet, too practiced. “what can i get for you folks?” she asks, voice syrupy when it lands on him.

you straighten in your seat, fingers tightening on the menu’s edge, a flicker of something sharp in your eyes. “i’ll have a chocolate shake and fries,” you say, voice clear, pulling her attention like you meant to.

“double cheeseburger, extra fries, chocolate shake thick enough for a spoon,” satoru orders, not glancing at the menu or the waitress. some things never change—his order, this booth, the way his chest tightens when you’re close.

“you still get the same thing?” you ask, smile soft with nostalgia, like you’re seeing him for the first time in years. “you used to make such a mess with those shakes.”

“remember when he got chocolate all over your new white shirt?” suguru chimes in, grinning, leaning back with an ease satoru envies. “you cried for like an hour.”

“i did not cry for an hour,” you protest, cheeks flushing, a spark of indignation in your eyes. “maybe ten minutes. tops.”

“and then satoru gave you his hoodie,” suguru continues, smirk sharp now, “and suddenly the tears magically stopped.”

“shut up,” you mutter, kicking suguru under the table, your gaze skittering away from satoru’s.

he remembers that day like it’s burned into him—you, twelve, small and devastated, tears streaking your face over a ruined shirt. him, awkward and too tall, draping his oversized hoodie around your shoulders, your eyes lighting up like he’d given you something precious. the memory sits heavy in his chest, warm and aching.

“you kept that hoodie for years,” suguru adds, ignoring your glare, voice teasing but fond. “pretty sure i saw you packing it for college.”

“oh my god, can we talk about anything else?” you plead, face scarlet, fingers twisting the straw wrapper into a knot.

satoru’s heart lurches. you kept his hoodie? all these years? the thought blooms inside him, dangerous and warm, like a spark he can’t smother. he wants to ask, wants to know if it still smells like him, if you ever wore it and thought of him, but he swallows it down, terrified of what his face might give away.

“what brought you back this summer?” he asks, voice steadier than he feels, desperate to shift the focus before he betrays himself. “just break, or…?”

“internship fell through,” you admit, shrugging, the motion small, almost apologetic. “figured i’d come home, make some money at the stand if you guys needed help.”

“always need help,” suguru nods, stealing a sugar packet from the caddy, spinning it between his fingers. “tourist season’s crazy this year.”

“plus satoru’s been whining about needing days off,” he adds, smirking, tossing the packet at satoru.

“i have not been whining,” satoru protests, catching the packet mid-air, his grin masking the way his pulse spikes at your laugh.

“you literally said yesterday that if one more kid dropped their ice cream and cried, you were going to walk straight into the ocean,” suguru deadpans, folding his arms.

you laugh, bright and clear, and satoru’s heart does a stupid, reckless flip. god, he missed that sound—missed it like air, like something vital he didn’t know he’d lost until it’s here again, filling the hollow in his chest.

“sounds like you need me to save you,” you tease, eyes locking with his across the table, a flicker of softness there, warm and unguarded.

“maybe i do,” he says, too honest, voice low, watching the pink deepen on your cheeks, the way your lips part just slightly.

the food arrives, breaking the moment like a wave against the shore. you take a bite of a fry, eyes fluttering shut, a small hum of contentment slipping out that has satoru gripping his glass so tight he’s surprised it doesn’t crack. the sound’s innocent, but it lands like a spark, igniting something restless in him.

“god, i missed real food,” you sigh, dipping another fry in ketchup, the motion careless, perfect. “dining hall stuff is awful.”

“that fancy school doesn’t feed you right?” suguru teases, stealing a fry from your plate, dodging your swat with a grin.

“hey!” you protest, brandishing your fork like a weapon. “and no, it’s all kale and quinoa and weird vegan options.”

“poor baby,” satoru mocks, but his voice is soft, and when suguru’s not looking, he slides a few of his fries onto your plate, a quiet offering.

you catch it, eyes warming, lips curving into a private smile that feels like a secret stitched between you. your fingers brush the table’s edge, inches from his, and he wonders what it’d be like to close that gap, to feel your skin against his.

“remember that summer we practically lived here?” you ask, stirring your shake, the spoon clinking softly against the glass. “after suguru got his license?”

“and dad’s old pickup,” suguru adds, nodding, his eyes distant with memory. “we’d come every day after the beach.”

“you two would eat your weight in fries,” you laugh, the sound wrapping around satoru like a tide, pulling him under. “and then race each other back to the water like idiots.”

“while you timed us,” satoru recalls, grin tugging at his lips, the memory vivid—your small hands clutching a cheap stopwatch, shouting times as he and suguru sprinted, sand flying. “always the competitive one.”

“says the guy who insisted on best of three every single time he lost,” you counter, eyebrow raised, a challenge in your gaze.

“which was most times,” suguru adds, smirking.

“i let you win,” satoru protests, clutching his chest like he’s wounded, but his eyes are on you, drinking in the way you laugh.

“sure you did,” you say, not buying it, your eyes bright with that old, familiar spark.

suguru’s phone buzzes, shattering the moment. he checks it, sighs, and pushes his plate aside. “dad needs me to pick up stuff from the hardware store. you two good here? i can come back.”

“we’re fine,” you say quickly, waving him off, your hat slipping slightly as you turn. “i remember the way home.”

suguru hesitates, eyes narrowing as he glances between you, like he senses the shift in the air. “behave yourselves.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask, voice too innocent, lips twitching.

“it means don’t let satoru convince you to do something stupid like that time he talked you into jumping off the pier,” suguru says, sliding out of the booth, his sneakers scuffing the floor.

“that was one time,” satoru defends, spreading his hands. “and she wanted to do it!”

“i was twelve and you told me it was totally safe,” you remind him, but you’re smiling, no bite behind it, just warmth.

“and it was safe,” he insists, leaning back. “you just can’t dive.”

suguru rolls his eyes, already halfway to the door. “i’ll be back in twenty. try not to burn the place down.”

the door jingles as he leaves, and the air shifts, charged, heavy with the weight of being alone with you for the first time in five years. the diner feels smaller, the hum of the neon sign louder, the space between you crackling like static.

“so,” you say, twirling your straw in your shake, eyes meeting his through your lashes, a hint of vulnerability beneath the tease. “did you miss me at all while i was gone?”

the question lands like a stone in still water, ripples spreading through him. he wants to say everything—how the stand felt empty, how summers dragged without your laugh, how he’s been chasing pieces of you in every distraction. but he can’t, not when you’re looking at him like that, soft and expectant.

“nah,” he says, breezy, then grins at your mock outrage, the way you puff out your cheeks. “maybe a little. the stand was too quiet without you dropping things.”

“i was not that clumsy!” you protest, laughing, the sound bright enough to drown out the diner’s hum.

“you knocked over an entire display of sunglasses trying to reach the top shelf,” he reminds you, smirking, the memory sharp—you, sixteen, stretching on tiptoes, cursing under your breath as plastic frames clattered to the ground. “twice.”

“because you and suguru kept putting things where i couldn’t reach them,” you counter, pointing a fry at him, your eyes narrowing playfully.

“it was funny watching you try,” he admits, smile softening, remembering the determined set of your jaw, the little huff you’d let out. “you’d get this wrinkle right here.” he taps between his brows, his finger lingering in the air too long.

your cheeks color, and you drop your gaze to your plate, lips twitching. “i can reach the top shelf now,” you say quietly, almost a challenge.

“i noticed,” he replies, the words slipping out, low and warm. too much, he thinks, but your smile—pleased, a little shy—makes it worth the risk.

“college has some perks,” you say, glancing up, your eyes catching his, holding them.

“like sukuna?” he asks, the name sour on his tongue, suguru’s earlier comment gnawing at him. he hates himself for it, for the way it slips out, sharp and unfiltered.

your smile falters, just for a second. “sukuna was just a friend.”

“a persistent friend,” satoru presses, leaning forward, unable to stop the edge in his voice.

“jealous?” you challenge, but there’s a hopeful spark in your eyes, a crack in your teasing that makes his pulse race.

“maybe,” he admits, surprising himself, the honesty raw, reckless. “or just protective. like suguru.”

“you’re not my brother,” you say softly, holding his gaze, the words heavy, deliberate.

“no,” he agrees, throat dry, heart pounding like it’s trying to break free. “i’m not.”

something shifts, a dangerous possibility curling in the air like smoke. you look away first, tucking hair behind your ear, your fingers trembling just enough for him to notice. your smile stays, small and secret, like you’re holding onto something fragile.

“anyway,” you say, voice lighter, “suguru mentioned you’ve been working on games?”

he grabs the lifeline, grateful for the shift. “yeah, indie stuff. nothing major yet, but i’ve got a few things published.”

“that’s amazing!” you say, eyes lighting up, genuine excitement in your voice. “you always were crazy talented with that stuff.”

“says the college girl,” he teases, but your praise sinks into him, warm and heavy, like a touch he can still feel.

“it’s just school,” you shrug, stirring your shake again, the spoon clinking softly. “nothing special.”

“it is special,” he insists, leaning forward, needing you to hear it. “you always were the smart one.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile’s pleased, soft. “says the guy who helped me pass physics senior year.”

“only because you helped me through lit,” he counters, grinning, the memory of late-night study sessions—your patience, your quiet focus—stirring something tender in him.

you laugh, the sound wrapping around him like the sun’s warmth. “we made a good team.”

“we still could,” he says, the words escaping before he can catch them, heavy with meaning he didn’t intend.

your eyes widen, lips parting, a flicker of hope crossing your face before you mask it with a laugh. “well, we’ll see how we do at the stand first,” you say lightly. “might get sick of me.”

“not possible,” he replies, too quick, too honest, his voice low enough to feel like a confession.

your smile turns shy, fingers fidgeting with your straw, twisting it into a knot. “you might be surprised. i sing in the mornings now,” you admit. “really loud, really off-key.”

“that’s not new,” he teases, leaning back, grateful for the lighter ground. “you used to screech taylor swift at the top of your lungs while restocking.”

“i did not screech,” you protest, laughing, your indignation bright and perfect.

“you absolutely did,” he insists, smirking. “scared away customers.”

“you’re such a liar,” you accuse, grinning, eyes sparkling like the ocean at noon. “you told me i had a nice voice.”

“maybe i lied then,” he suggests, voice dropping, playful but edged with something softer.

“or maybe you’re lying now,” you counter, leaning forward, your elbows on the table, closing the distance between you.

“guess you’ll have to sing for me again so i can decide,” he says, voice low, the words a dare, a pull.

your cheeks flush, but you hold his gaze, challenge sparking in your eyes. “maybe i will.”

the air crackles, five years of distance collapsing into this moment, this booth, this look. you’re not a kid anymore, and satoru can’t pretend he doesn’t see it—the way you’ve grown into yourself, confident, bright, a fire he can’t look away from.

“we should probably head back,” you say finally, glancing at your phone, your voice softer, like you’re reluctant to break the spell. “before suguru sends out a search party.”

“race you to the truck?” satoru suggests, grinning, a callback to countless summer days, his heart lighter than it’s been in years.

your eyes light up, competitive spark flaring. “loser buys ice cream tomorrow?”

“deal,” he says, already sliding out of the booth, his pulse racing for reasons that have nothing to do with running.

you grab your hat, fingers brushing the brim, eyes gleaming with mischief. “ready?”

and then you’re off, dashing through the diner, sundress fluttering like a sail, laughter trailing behind you like a melody. satoru follows, heart pounding, knowing suguru might kill him for the thoughts burning through his mind—your smile, your voice, the way you feel like home—but right now, watching you run ahead, he thinks it might just be worth it.

summer melts over the beach in thick, sticky waves, clinging to the chipped paint of the pop-up stand, to the sweat-damp curls at the nape of your neck.

you work the stand with suguru and satoru, slinging snow cones that bleed syrup, fries that glisten with grease, and cheap sunglasses that tourists snap up despite their complaints about the prices. they wilt under the sun’s brutal glare, faces flushed and shiny, while you move through the chaos with an ease that twists something in satoru’s chest.

it’s only been a week since you started helping out.

satoru tries to be normal. he swears he does.

but then there’s you, stretching on tiptoes to grab a stack of napkins from the top shelf, your tank top riding up to reveal a sliver of soft stomach, a tiny mole just above your hip that he’s never seen before. it’s a punch to the gut, that small mark, and he ducks behind the register, fumbling with keychains, pretending to sort them while his pulse hammers.

he’s not staring, he tells himself, but his eyes keep dragging back to you, to the way your skin catches the light, warm and alive.

there’s you, perched on a stool, slurping a cherry popsicle that’s melting faster than you can keep up with, your tongue darting out to catch the drips, lips stained red.

your eyes are half-lidded, lazy with heat, and your sandal taps a restless rhythm against the counter’s edge. every tap is a countdown, every slick of your tongue a slow execution, and satoru’s dying, his hands gripping the counter to keep from reaching out, from doing something stupid.

he’s fucking dying.

“dude,” suguru says one afternoon, lobbing a wadded-up receipt at satoru’s head, the paper bouncing off his temple. “your math is shit today.”

satoru startles, blinking at the till where he’s been staring for god knows how long, a customer’s change still clutched in his fist, coins biting into his palm. the tourist in front of him shifts impatiently, fanning herself with a crumpled map.

“whatever,” he mutters, shoving the coins across the counter, his voice rough. “it’s hot. i’m fried.”

“sure,” suguru drawls, slow and amused, leaning against the freezer, his dark hair sticking to his forehead. not suspicious, thank god, just teasing.

you laugh, swinging your legs where you’re perched on the counter, your denim shorts riding up to show the smooth expanse of your thighs, gleaming under the flickering neon “open” sign. you’re flipping through a gossip magazine, the pages crinkling under your fingers, your nails painted a chipped sky blue.

satoru nearly trips over his own feet grabbing a water bottle from the cooler, the cold glass slipping in his sweaty grip.

“earth to satoru,” you tease, crumpling a napkin into a ball and tossing it at his head, your aim perfect.

he catches it one-handed, tosses it back with a grin that feels too tight, too sharp, because you’re a fucking hazard, a loaded gun with your finger brushing the trigger, and you don’t even know it. your smile is lazy, your eyes bright with mischief, and he’s drowning in the heat of you, in the way you’re everywhere—your laugh, your scent, your warmth.

suguru cackles from the back room, sorting straws, oblivious to the storm in satoru’s chest.

“bet you can’t make another shot,” you taunt, grin wicked, leaning forward so your tank top dips just enough to make his throat dry.

“bet you i can,” he fires back, because it’s you, and he’s an idiot who can’t say no to you, not ever.

he grabs a plastic spoon, flicks it with a practiced snap of his wrist—it arcs across the stand, bounces off the freezer’s handle, and lands neatly in the trash can with a soft thud.

you whistle low, impressed, your lips pursing in a way that’s entirely too distracting. “show-off,” you say, but your smile softens, warm around the edges, like you’re proud of him.

later, you’re all sprawled in the sand behind the stand after closing, the air cooler but still thick, heavy with the day’s lingering heat. suguru strums a beat-up guitar he dug out of his garage, the strings twanging softly, his voice humming off-key to some old song.

you and satoru lie side by side, close enough that your arm brushes his when you shift, the contact sending sparks skittering across his skin. the sand is cool under his back, but he’s burning, every nerve attuned to you.

you doodle nonsense shapes into the sand with a stick, biting your lip in concentration, your brows furrowing just slightly. satoru watches from the corner of his eye, heart aching like it’s been bruised, the sight of you so close and so untouchable carving something raw inside him.

“wanna play chicken fights in the water tomorrow?” you ask suddenly, looking up at him, your eyes catching the last of the sunset, bright and alive.

“only if i get to be your ride,” he says without thinking, voice rougher than he means, the words heavy with want he can’t voice.

you grin, wide and blinding, and it’s like the sun never set, like you’re carrying it inside you. he almost blacks out, his breath catching, his world narrowing to the curve of your mouth.

“deal,” you say, offering your pinky, the gesture so familiar it hurts. he hooks his around yours, the brief press of your skin a vow he feels in his bones, sacred and binding.

he starts inventing excuses to stay after closing. restocking chips that don’t need restocking. double-checking the cash register he balanced hours ago. making sure you get home safe, as if the quiet streets of this town could ever hurt you. and you let him, every single time, your presence pulling him like gravity.

you let him linger, let him stand too close when you count the till, your fingers brushing his as you pass a bill, the contact fleeting but electric. you bump shoulders when you sweep sand off the counters, your laughter spilling into the night, loud and easy, hooking into his ribs and tugging until he aches. the string lights above buzz faintly, casting a soft glow over your face, tangling in your hair like a halo.

sometimes suguru’s there, tossing keys, joking about “kids these days” before bailing early to meet some girl at the pier, his footsteps fading into the dark. sometimes it’s just you and satoru, alone under the lights, the salty breeze stirring your hair, the beach stretching out endless and shadowed behind you, waves whispering secrets to the shore.

one night, after suguru ditches early, you and satoru ride home together. you slide into the cab of his truck, knees knocking against his in the cramped space, the scent of your sunscreen—coconut and sea salt—and the faint sweetness of sugar from the snow cones you snuck filling the air.

it’s suffocating, intoxicating, and he grips the steering wheel to keep his hands from shaking.

the windows are down, the radio humming a low, dreamy song, its melody weaving through the warm night. the wind whips your hair across your face, and you laugh, batting it away with a careless hand, your fingers catching the light from passing streetlamps.

he thinks about crashing the truck just to have an excuse to feel your hands on him, to pull you close and never let go.

at a red light, you turn to him, voice soft, lilting, like you’re sharing a secret. “you’re staring.”

he jerks his eyes back to the road, ears burning scarlet, heart thudding so loud he’s sure you can hear it. “am not,” he says, voice cracking, betraying him.

you hum, unconvinced, leaning your head against the window, a small, knowing smile curling your lips. “liar,” you murmur, so soft it’s almost lost to the music, but it lands like a dart, sharp and precise.

“whatever,” he mutters, flustered, his usual swagger crumbling under the weight of your gaze.

the drive stretches on, every stoplight a torture, every bump in the road vibrating through the cab, tightening the tension until it’s a living thing, thick and heavy.

you hum along to the radio, voice low and sweet, your fingers tapping the dashboard in time, a rhythm that syncs with his pulse. every so often, you sneak glances at him, quick flicks of your eyes that burn, that make him want to pull over and confess everything.

you point out a diner glowing neon against the dark, its sign buzzing faintly. “we should go sometime,” you say, casual, but there’s a thread of hope woven into your voice, delicate and bright.

“yeah,” he says, too fast, too eager. “yeah, totally.”

your smile breaks over him like dawn, warm and inevitable, and he’s helpless, caught in its light.

when he drops you off, you linger by the truck’s door, backpack slung loose over one shoulder, fingers twisting the strap. “thanks for the ride,” you say, voice feather-light, your eyes catching the moonlight.

he nods, swallowing hard, his throat tight with everything he can’t say.

you lean in, close enough that he can see the faint freckles dusting your nose, smell the sweet trace of your lip balm—strawberry, he thinks, dizzy with it. for one wild, reckless second, he thinks you’re going to kiss him, and his heart stops, his world narrowing to you.

but you just tap his chest with two fingers, right over his racing heart, the touch light but searing, like a brand. “see you tomorrow, toru.”

you bounce up the porch steps, pausing to throw him a wink over your shoulder, quick and playful, before slipping inside. the door clicks shut, and he’s left staring after you, the engine ticking softly in the warm night air, the ghost of your touch burning against his skin.

he slumps back in the seat, groaning into his hands, the sound raw and desperate. “off-limits,” he mutters, thudding his head against the steering wheel, each word a knife. “off. fucking. limits.”

he drives home on autopilot, your laugh echoing in his ears, the memory of your fingers against his chest a pulse he can’t shake. he dreams of you that night—soft, warm, impossibly close, your breath against his skin—and wakes up aching, the line between want and need blurred beyond recognition.

the next evening, satoru offers you a ride home again, his voice casual but his pulse anything but. suguru waves you off, barely glancing up from his phone, thumbs flying as he texts his latest fling about meeting at the bonfire later.

“don’t wait up,” he calls, a smirk in his voice, and satoru nearly stumbles, cheeks flushing despite the evening’s cool bite, the implication landing like a spark in dry grass.

outside, the sky bleeds watercolor—orange and gold streaking into deep lavender, fading to dusky indigo at the horizon. the air carries salt, the smoky tang of distant bonfires, the faint sweetness of wildflowers clinging to the dunes.

you slide into the passenger seat, kicking off your flip-flops with a clatter, the soles dusted with sand. you prop your bare feet on the dashboard, toes flexing, a silver anklet glinting in the fading light, and satoru’s chest tightens at how easily you claim the space, like the truck’s always been yours.

“air conditioning’s broken,” he says, wrestling with the crank windows, the handle sticking under his grip.

“who needs it?” you shrug, a carefree grin spreading across your face, bright as the last sliver of sun. you lean your head out the window, letting the sea breeze whip your hair into a wild halo, strands dancing like they’re alive.

the truck rattles down the coastal road, tires kicking up clouds of sand that drift in the orange glow. you fiddle with the radio, twisting the dial past static until a slow, dreamy track hums through the speakers, its bass vibrating deep in satoru’s bones, syncing with the thud of his heart.

your fingers tap a lazy rhythm against your bare thigh, the hem of your shorts frayed and soft, and he’s dangerously distracted, his eyes flicking to you when he should be watching the road.

“pull over,” you say suddenly, sitting bolt upright, pointing to a dirt path half-hidden by seagrass.

“what?” he blinks, hands tightening on the wheel.

“there. pull over. trust me.”

your excitement is a current, electric and contagious, and he’s turning the truck before he can think, tires bumping over the uneven path. the clearing opens to a view that steals his breath—an endless ocean, molten and shimmering, the sun sinking into it like a dying ember. the horizon burns, fierce and fleeting.

before he can ask what’s next, you’re halfway out the door, tugging your tank top over your head, the motion fluid, careless. “swimming, obviously,” you call over your shoulder, voice bright with mischief.

he stares, heart slamming against his ribs, the air in his lungs gone. you shimmy out of your shorts, revealing a plain black bikini—simple, unadorned, but devastating, the fabric hugging your curves like it was made for you. his throat goes dry, words dissolving on his tongue.

“we don’t have—” he starts, but you cut him off, flashing a cheeky grin.

“i always wear it under my clothes,” you say, winking. “just in case.”

just in case you decide to unravel him, to turn his world inside out with a smile and a strip of fabric.

“well?” you challenge, standing in the sand, barefoot and fearless, like a siren born from the waves. “you coming or what?”

common sense is a faint echo, drowned out by the roar of his pulse. he yanks his shirt over his head, the cotton catching on his hair, and follows you, helpless.

the water is warm, lapping at his skin, the tide playful, salt stinging his lips. you dive under a wave, your body sleek and sure, cutting through the current like you belong to it. you surface with a triumphant laugh, hair plastered to your forehead, water streaming down your face, and satoru’s caught, staring, the world narrowing to you.

“chicken?” you tease, flicking water at him, your grin sharp and daring.

he pushes deeper into the surf, muscles burning, fighting the urge to just float there, to watch you move. “race you to the buoy,” you say, pointing to a marker bobbing in the distance, its silhouette dark against the fiery sky.

“you’re on,” he grins, teeth flashing, adrenaline spiking.

you take off, a blur of motion, and he has to push to keep up, slicing through the water with long, powerful strokes, the ocean dragging at his limbs. by the time he reaches the buoy, you’re there, clinging to it, laughing breathless, your chest heaving. “not bad,” you concede, splashing water in his face, the droplets cool against his flushed skin. “for an old man.”

“old?” he splutters, feigning outrage, lunging for you.

you shriek, twisting away, but he’s faster, catching you around the waist, his fingers slipping against your slick skin. he dunks you under, the water swallowing your laughter, and you surface, sputtering, eyes blazing with mock fury.

you launch yourself at him, crashing into his chest, and the momentum sends you both tumbling under the next wave, limbs tangling, breathless and weightless.

when you surface, you’re wrapped around him, legs locked at his hips, arms looped around his neck, your body pressed so close he can feel the heat of you through the water. the ocean rocks you gently, the sunset bathing you in fire and velvet, your faces inches apart. he can see the flecks in your eyes, the faint salt clinging to your lashes, and his heart stutters, a painful, desperate thing.

“i win,” you murmur, voice low, triumphant, your breath warm against his lips.

his hands steady you at your waist, fingers splaying over your skin, slick and warm, and he’s drowning, every nerve alight. “cheater,” he rasps, the word barely audible, his throat tight.

your smile is slow, dangerous, your eyes flickering to his mouth for a heartbeat, and satoru feels the world tilt, gravity slipping away. he leans in, instinct overriding reason, drawn to you like a tide to the shore—

a wave crashes over you, tearing you apart with a roar of laughter and salt spray. you’re both gasping, grinning, the moment shattered but still humming between you.

you beat him back to shore, stumbling through the shallows, your laughter ringing like bells. by the time he catches up, you’re shivering, arms wrapped around yourself, the first stars blinking awake overhead, faint against the deepening indigo.

without a word, he grabs his hoodie from the truck, the fabric soft and worn, and drapes it over your shoulders. it swallows you, sleeves dangling past your hands, but you tug it tight, burying your face in the collar, and the sight of you in his clothes does something vicious to his chest.

“thanks,” you whisper, voice soft, nearly lost to the wind, your eyes catching his, warm and unguarded.

neither of you moves. the moment stretches, fragile as glass, strung between the stars and the restless waves, the air thick with salt and unspoken things. satoru’s heart hammers, every beat a confession he can’t voice.

“suguru would kill me,” he blurts, the words rough, desperate, a lifeline to keep him grounded.

you tilt your head, studying him, the wind tugging at your hair. “for what?”

for wanting you. for almost kissing you. for dreaming of you every night since you came back.

“for keeping you out too late,” he lies, voice scraping, hating how weak it sounds.

you laugh, soft and knowing, like you see through him, like you always have. “i’m not a kid, toru.”

he swallows, throat burning. “you’ve always been… different. special.” the words slip out, raw and unguarded, and he regrets them instantly, but your eyes soften, something tender flickering there.

you step closer, close enough that he can smell the salt on your skin, the faint coconut of your sunscreen lingering. “maybe i’m tougher than you think,” you say, brushing sand off his shoulder with fingers so light they feel like a dream, your touch lingering a second too long.

“maybe,” he croaks, voice breaking, his hands twitching to pull you closer.

you hold his gaze, long and steady, then sigh, stepping back, the space between you cold and sudden. “we should go,” you murmur, voice laced with something heavy, something he can’t name.

he drives you home slowly, windows down, the radio murmuring a low, slow song that weaves through the night. you curl up in the passenger seat, still in his hoodie, humming softly, your voice a thread he wants to chase forever. the road stretches, quiet and dark, the ocean a shadow to your left, its rhythm steady against the chaos in his chest.

at your house, the porch light glows, a soft amber pool, but suguru’s truck is gone, the driveway empty. “thanks for the swim,” you say, lingering with your hand on the door, your fingers brushing the handle like you’re reluctant to leave.

“anytime,” he says, meaning it too much, his voice low, heavy with everything he’s holding back.

you lean across the console, and his breath catches, time slowing as you press a kiss to his cheek—soft, quick, a fleeting devastation. your lips are warm, barely there, but they burn, a spark that could set him ablaze. then you’re gone, darting up the steps, pausing to throw him a wink, bright and teasing, before slipping inside.

he sits there, hand pressed to his cheek, heart pounding like it’s trying to escape. the engine ticks, the night presses in, and he’s alone with the ghost of your kiss, the weight of it heavier than the ocean.

“you’re fucked,” he tells his reflection in the rearview mirror, voice rough, eyes wide and stunned.

his reflection doesn’t argue, just stares back, helpless.

the next morning at the stand, suguru’s quiet, frowning over inventory lists, his pen scratching too hard against the clipboard. “you okay?” satoru asks, dread curling in his gut, the memory of last night still burning.

“late night,” suguru mutters, scribbling a note, his voice clipped.

relief floods satoru, sharp and dizzying, nearly knocking him off balance. “the bonfire girl?” he asks, forcing a grin.

suguru smirks, a glint in his eyes. “very flexible.”

normal. it’s normal. nothing’s changed.

then you appear, hair twisted into a messy bun, strands escaping to frame your face, wearing cutoff shorts and—satoru’s breath catches, a punch to the chest—his hoodie, sleeves pushed up to your elbows, the fabric loose but claiming you in a way that makes his head spin. “morning!” you chirp, dropping your bag behind the counter, the zipper jingling softly.

“you’re late,” suguru grumbles, mock stern, tossing you an apron.

“by like, five minutes,” you protest, rolling your eyes, your lips twitching with a smile.

“still late,” he insists, but there’s no heat in it, just the easy rhythm of family.

you catch the apron one-handed, sticking your tongue out at him when he turns away. satoru pretends to fiddle with the register, fingers clumsy on the keys, trying not to stare at you, at the way his hoodie looks on you, at the way it feels like a claim he didn’t mean to make.

but when you catch his eye across the stand, your smile slows, turns secret, full of promises he’s not sure he can survive. it’s a look that says you remember last night—the swim, the almost-kiss, the kiss that was—and his heart lurches, knowing he’s lost, knowing he doesn’t want to fight it, not with the annual bonfire party looming, its heat and chaos waiting to pull him under.

the bonfire party pulses against the darkening sky, flames clawing upward, casting amber and gold across faces slick with sweat and laughter. satoru nurses a beer, the bottle cool and slick in his palm, half-listening to a friend drone on about swell patterns and reef breaks. his attention frays, eyes slicing through the crowd, searching for you, a reflex he can’t tame.

when you appear, the world collapses to a single, searing point.

you step from the beach path, a peach sundress clinging to your curves, thin straps shimmering like liquid firelight, the hem teasing high on your thighs. your hair’s loose, wild from the salt air, curling against your shoulders like it’s daring the wind to try harder. you look shy at first, eyes darting through the chaos of bodies, searching for an anchor.

then you find him.

your eyes lock across the fire, and your smile—small, devastating, a curve of lips that’s both invitation and blade—cuts through him. it steals his breath, roots him to the sand, the beer bottle nearly slipping from his grip. his heart’s a traitor, pounding loud enough to drown out the music, and he’s terrified suguru’s nearby, that his best friend’s sharp eyes will catch the way satoru’s unraveling.

“dude, you even listening?” his friend asks, waving a hand in front of his face, voice tinged with annoyance.

“what? yeah,” satoru mumbles, not hearing a damn thing, unable to tear himself from you, from the way the firelight dances across your face.

a shadow moves beside him, and suguru’s there, beer in hand, leaning back against a driftwood log. “you’re zoning out,” he says, voice neutral, taking a slow sip. his eyes flick to the crowd, casual, but satoru’s stomach lurches—suguru knows him too well, reads him like a book, and satoru’s been anything but subtle tonight.

“just hot,” satoru mutters, tipping his beer back, the bitter fizz doing nothing to cool the heat crawling up his neck. he forces his gaze to the fire, to the sparks spiraling into the night, praying suguru doesn’t push.

suguru hums, noncommittal, and says nothing more, but the silence feels heavy, like he’s waiting for satoru to crack. satoru tries to play it cool—laughs at a half-heard joke, tosses a stick into the flames, watches it catch and burn. but you’re a tide, pulling at him, relentless.

the way your dress shifts with the breeze, tracing the dip of your waist; the bare slope of your shoulders, kissed by firelight; the glint of your anklet, a silver thread against your ankle. it’s torture, and he’s burning, every nerve alight with want he’s desperate to hide.

you drift through the party, a fleeting spark, never staying long. you laugh with girls from the rival stand, their voices sharp and bright, then pause to chat with a guy satoru half-remembers from high school—tanned, smug, standing too close.

you tilt your head back, laughing, throat bared, and satoru’s grip dents his beer can, the metal creaking under his fingers. the urge to cross the sand, to shove the guy back, is a live wire in his veins, but he stays put, jaw tight, because suguru’s right there, watching the fire, and one wrong move could betray him.

“you’re gonna break that,” suguru says, voice low, nodding at the can, his tone too even to be safe.

satoru sets it down, dragging a hand through his hair, the strands damp with sweat. “i’m fine,” he says, too sharp, and regrets it instantly, the words too defensive.

suguru raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push, just takes another sip, his gaze drifting to the crowd. satoru follows it, and there you are, catching his eye again, your stare steady, unflinching. you take a slow sip of your beer, tongue flicking out to catch a drop on your bottom lip, and desire coils in satoru’s stomach, hot and heavy, his mouth dry as the ash at his feet.

he shifts, crossing his arms, trying to ground himself, to look anywhere but at you. suguru’s too close, too perceptive, and satoru’s walking a tightrope, every glance a risk. he forces a laugh at something his friend says, but it’s hollow, his focus fractured by the way you move, the way you exist, like you’re pulling the air from his lungs.

you’re there suddenly, standing before them, your sundress glowing orange in the firelight, sand dusting your bare ankles, a faint sheen of sweat on your collarbone. “hey,” you say, voice soft, a little breathless, like the crowd’s worn you thin, like you’re seeking refuge.

suguru shifts, patting the space on the log between them. “plenty of room,” he says, easy, tossing you a chip from the bag at his feet. “hungry?”

“i’m your only sister,” you point out, rolling your eyes as you settle onto the log, careful with the short hem of your dress, thighs brushing the rough wood.

you’re too close—satoru can smell your shampoo, coconut and sweet, weaving through the smoky air. your knee presses against his, a steady heat through his jeans, and he shifts, angling away, terrified of leaning into it, of suguru noticing the way his hands twitch.

you slip into easy talk, the three of you passing the chip bag, laughing at suguru’s tales of tourists losing sunglasses to the waves. but there’s a charge humming under it all, a current satoru can’t ignore.

he’s hyperaware of you—the way your fingers tuck a stray curl behind your ear, the soft hitch of your breath when you laugh, the way your eyes find his in the firelight, each glance a spark that could ignite him. suguru’s right there, sprawled and relaxed, but satoru’s nerves are a live wire, every moment a test of his restraint.

the speaker blasts a new song, bass thumping across the sand, and couples start dancing near the fire, shadows twisting against the flames. a guy approaches you—tall, cocky, hand outstretched, all easy charm. “dance with me?” he asks, grinning like he’s already won.

satoru’s jaw clenches, a spike of something hot and reckless surging in his chest, but you just smile, polite, shaking your head. “maybe later,” you say, voice light, and relief crashes through satoru, sharp and unearned, loosening the knot in his gut.

the guy shrugs, moving on, and suguru watches, finishing his beer in a long gulp, the bottle glinting in the firelight. he stands, stretching, his shadow long across the sand. “gonna grab another,” he says, voice casual, but his eyes linger on you for a beat, then flick to satoru, unreadable. “you two want anything?”

“i’m good,” satoru says, too fast, his pulse still settling, his hands gripping his knees to keep still.

“i’ll take another,” you say, holding up your empty can, fingers brushing the rim, a faint smudge of lipstick on the edge.

suguru nods, then heads off, weaving through the crowd, his absence leaving a void that hums with possibility. the fire crackles, music pulses low, and the silence between you and satoru stretches, thick with smoke and want, the air heavy with everything he’s fighting to hide.

“having fun?” he asks, voice rougher than he means, cringing at how weak it sounds, like a kid fumbling for words.

you smile, eyes on the fire, flames dancing in your gaze like they’re part of you. “yeah. it’s nice being back for the summer.” you turn to him, face half-shadowed, half-glowing, your expression soft, open. “better than i expected.”

“yeah?” he asks, heart hammering, the sound too loud in his ears, terrified suguru’s watching from the drink table, catching every slip.

you nod, holding his gaze, steady, unflinching. “yeah.”

the silence deepens, heavy as the tide, pulling at him. you take a deep breath, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress, tugging it down, and he can’t look away from the nervous bite of your lip, the way it shines, wet with beer and firelight. he’s drowning, and suguru’s absence is a dangerous freedom, every second a chance to break.

“actually, i’m feeling a little…” you trail off, glancing at the crowd, the laughter and chaos swelling around you. “it’s kinda loud. kinda crowded.”

“we can move down the beach,” satoru offers, instant, eager, desperate to keep this moment. “if you want quiet.”

you shake your head, lip caught between your teeth, a gesture that’s a fucking dart to his chest. “i was thinking… maybe you could drive me home?”

his brain stutters, blanks. “home?” he echoes, keys already burning in his pocket, his hands itching to move.

“if you don’t mind,” you add, quick, a blush blooming across your cheeks, soft and real, like you’re offering more than you’re saying. “i’m just… tired.”

he knows you’re not tired. knows it like he knows the pull of the ocean, the sting of salt. your eyes are too bright, too awake, the lie a fragile veil over something bolder. he’s nodding, fumbling for his keys, heart pounding loud enough to drown out the fire’s crackle. “yeah, of course. let me just tell suguru—”

“already texted him,” you say, holding up your phone, a shy smile curving your lips. “he says it’s fine.”

satoru’s pulse spikes, panic and want twisting together. suguru’s out there, somewhere, and satoru’s terrified he’s watching, that he’ll see the truth in his face, the way he’s crumbling under your gaze. but he stands, offering his hand, voice rough. “let’s go.”

you take it, fingers warm, slightly sticky from the beer, letting him pull you up. you sway, bumping his chest, and he steadies you, hands on your waist, the thin fabric of your dress no barrier to the heat of your skin. “sorry,” you murmur, looking up through your lashes, not stepping back, your breath a soft tease against his jaw.

“that’s okay,” he says, voice raw, barely holding it together. “i’ve got you.”

you weave through the crowd to the parking lot, your hand still in his, a tether he’s terrified to break. satoru spots suguru by the drink table, their eyes meeting across the sand. suguru’s gaze is steady, a small nod passing between them, no words, just an acknowledgment that feels like a warning: don’t cross the line.

satoru nods back, a silent promise he’s not sure he can keep, and guides you to his truck.

the drive’s quiet at first, just the engine’s low growl and the distant rhythm of waves. satoru grips the wheel, knuckles white, hyperaware of you in the passenger seat—your bare legs catching moonlight, the way your dress rides up, revealing the soft curve of your thigh.

you turn the radio on low, a sultry summer song with a bassline that matches his pulse, heavy and slow. your knee brushes his, stays there, a deliberate heat that sets him ablaze, and he’s fighting every instinct to keep his hands where they belong, to keep suguru’s trust intact.

“thank you,” you say, voice soft, cutting through the dark like a lighthouse beam. “for the ride.”

“anytime,” he says, and it’s a vow, heavy with everything he’s burying, everything he’s too afraid to let suguru see.

another mile hums by, the radio crackling low, a sultry bassline weaving through the dark. tires whisper against cracked asphalt, a secret shared between the truck and the night. the windows are cracked, letting in slivers of humid, salt-heavy air, thick with the scent of seaweed and distant bonfires. it does nothing to ease the heat coiling inside the cab, a fever that clings to your skin, makes every breath feel flushed, electric, like the world’s poised on a knife’s edge.

satoru feels it before he sees it—your gaze, molten and heavy, searing into the side of his face. the air shifts, sharp, trembling, a wire stretched to snapping. weeks of want, maybe years, spill over, uncontainable, a tide breaking against a crumbling dam.

“satoru,” you whisper, voice catching, raw with a need that slices through him. “pull over. please.”

he glances at you, and it’s a fucking mistake. your eyes glitter in the dashboard’s dim glow, wild and wide, lips parted, hands fisting the hem of your peach sundress, knuckles pale like you’re clinging to sanity. “what?” he asks, voice fraying, teetering on wrecked.

“please,” you say again, lip quivering, voice splintering under the weight of desperation. “i can’t hold it anymore.”

he doesn’t hesitate. the blinker clicks, sharp and urgent, the truck veering onto the sandy shoulder, ocean roaring below the cliffs, a primal pulse in the dark. he shifts into park, and the world catches fire.

“i can’t,” you whisper, eyes wide, pleading, like you’re unraveling. “i can’t pretend like you’re not everything anymore.”

he freezes, waiting for you to laugh, to take it back, but your hands are on him, yanking him across the console, your mouth crashing into his. you taste like desperation, strawberry lip gloss, and something achingly sweet, a heartbreak he can’t name. he moans, low and stunned, hands flying to your hips as you pour into him, a wave finally breaking, relentless and all-consuming.

your kiss is frantic, messy, teeth catching his lip, tongue sliding against his in a clumsy, starving dance. he’s drowning, your body pressing closer, like you could meld into him, erase every inch of space. “wait,” he gasps, pulling back, forehead knocking against yours, breath jagged, the air between you steaming. “baby, you’ve been drinking. i can’t—”

“satoru,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shirt, nails biting through cotton, dragging him back. “i know what i’m doing. i’ve wanted you since i was sixteen. please. just tonight. let me have you.”

the raw truth in your voice shatters him, every defense crumbling like sand. “oh, sweetheart,” he coos, teasing but hungry, kissing you again, deep and reckless, tongue chasing yours like he’s been starved for you. “we should—shit, we should find a bed, somewhere better—”

“no,” you cut him off, voice fierce, climbing over the console, straddling his lap in the driver’s seat. your dress rides up, thighs bare and warm against his jeans, and he chokes, breath hitching at the heat of you. “here. now. i can’t wait.”

he’s trying to be good, trying to think of suguru, of the lines he shouldn’t cross, but you’re too much—too pretty, too desperate, grinding against him, the friction making his vision blur. “backseat,” he murmurs, voice low, fraying with impatience, hands gripping your waist to lift you. “more room, pretty girl.”

you nod, frantic, and you both tumble out into the humid dark, clumsy with need, the night thick with the buzz of cicadas and the ocean’s restless crash. he catches you when your sandal snags on the doorframe, your laugh breathless, a sound that hooks into his ribs and pulls tight.

he shoves open the back door, guiding you inside with a hand on your lower back, firm but gentle, the leather seats gleaming faintly in the moonlight.

the backseat’s a tight cocoon, windows fogging, the air steaming with heat and lust. you climb in, pulling him after you, straddling him again, knees bracketing his hips, the seat creaking under your weight. your sundress is a crumpled mess, straps slipping off your shoulders, and he’s lost, staring at you like you’re a fucking vision, eyes glinting with want, skin flushed and alive.

“c’mere, gorgeous,” he coos, voice dripping with tease, but there’s a tremor beneath it, a hunger he can’t hide. he drags you closer, hands sliding under your dress, palms worshipping the smooth expanse of your thighs, the curve of your hips, the soft dip of your waist.

you gasp, grinding against him, and he feels himself, thick and aching, pressed against your core through his jeans, every roll of your hips a sweet kind of torture.

“you’re gonna fuckin’ ruin me,” he murmurs, breath hitching, hands trembling as he pushes your dress higher, exposing the soft skin of your stomach, the delicate lace of your panties. his voice is all tease, but his eyes are dark, pupils blown, betraying the impatience clawing at him.

you giggle, wrecked and sweet, and he grits his teeth, your laugh a spark to his fraying control. “lemme touch you,” he pleads, voice low, edged with a need that’s almost painful, fingers itching to claim every inch of you.

“yes,” you breathe, thighs parting, a flower opening to the sun, offering him everything.

he traces slow, maddening patterns up your inner thighs, savoring every twitch, every shiver, the way your breath catches when his knuckles graze too close. his fingers brush the damp lace of your panties, and he curses, soft and reverent, the heat of you undoing him.

“soaked already,” he purrs, lips grazing your ear, voice thick with awe, a teasing lilt masking the way his hands shake. “such a good girl for me.”

he slips beneath the lace, and you choke on a cry, biting your knuckles, head falling back against the seat. “nuh-uh,” he teases, nipping your neck, a playful bite that stings just enough to make you gasp. “no hiding, baby. i want every sound. lemme hear you.”

he tugs your hand away, pinning it against the seat, his other hand working slow, deliberate circles over your clit, featherlight and cruel.

you whimper, high and broken, hips bucking into his touch, chasing the friction. he’s methodical, a tease—circling your clit with barely-there pressure, dipping lower to trace your entrance, then back up, dragging out every sensation until you’re writhing, grinding shamelessly against his hand.

“satoru,” you pant, nails scoring his shoulders through his shirt, leaving crescent marks he’ll trace later, proof of you.

“patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, lips dragging wet down your throat, teeth grazing the frantic pulse at your neck. “gonna savor you. make you forget anyone else ever touched you.” his voice is a promise, teasing but laced with a hunger that betrays his own impatience, and you shudder, thighs trembling under his hands.

he shoves your panties aside, tossing them into the backseat’s shadows, and spreads you open, pressing you back against the seat, the leather sticking to your sweat-slick skin. the angle’s awkward, the space cramped, but he makes it work, one knee braced against the floorboard, shoulders hunching to fit, his breath hot against your core.

“prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” he murmurs, eyes dark, pupils swallowing the blue, staring at you like you’re a banquet and he’s been starving for years.

he kisses up your thigh, slow, messy, lips smearing wet trails, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of your skin, the faint musk of you driving him wild. his hands grip your hips, fingers bruising, holding you still as he edges closer, breath fanning hot over your core, making you squirm. when his tongue drags a long, languid stripe up your folds, you sob, arching off the seat, hands flying to his hair, yanking hard enough to sting.

he moans, the sound eager, vibrating through you, and dives in, ravenous. he’s messy, relentless—tongue lapping broad, greedy strokes, then sharp, teasing flicks against your clit, nose nudging you with every movement.

his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly, and you cry out, thighs clamping around his head, a vise he welcomes. he pries your legs wider, fingers digging into the soft flesh, and keeps going, tongue tracing every fold, every sensitive inch, like he’s mapping you.

“taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he mumbles, words slurred, muffled against your core, lips brushing your clit as he speaks. his tongue dips lower, teasing your entrance, and he slides a finger inside, curling it slow, deliberate, searching for that spot that makes your breath hitch. you keen, high and desperate, and he adds another finger, stretching you, pumping in time with the sharp flicks of his tongue, the rhythm maddening.

“satoru,” you wail, overwhelmed, hips bucking, chasing the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his fingers. his eyes flick up, meeting yours, and they’re wild—lids heavy, face flushed, glistening with your slick, utterly lost in you.

he’s trying to hold back, to keep some control, because you’re suguru’s sister, because he shouldn’t, but you’re too fucking perfect, grinding against his face, and he’s unraveling, impatient for more.

he shifts, the backseat too small, his shoulder bumping the fogged window, smearing the condensation. one hand braces against the door, keeping him steady, the other working you deeper, fingers curling just right, hitting that spot again and again until your thighs shake.

his tongue traces patterns—lazy circles, sharp figure-eights, quick flicks that have you gasping, trembling. he pulls back for a moment, just to spit on you, the wet heat mixing with your slick, making everything filthier, then dives back in, lapping it up, sucking harder, fingers pumping faster, the wet sounds lewd and intoxicating.

“so fuckin’ wet,” he coos, voice teasing, lips brushing your clit, but the undercurrent of hunger is undeniable, his patience fraying. “dripping all over me, baby. gonna scream for me soon.” he dives back in, tongue relentless, fingers twisting, and you’re a mess, thighs quivering, chest heaving, the leather creaking under your restless movements.

“please,” you whimper, voice breaking, hands yanking his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. “faster, satoru, please.”

“greedy little thing,” he teases, but he obliges, tongue flicking quicker, fingers pumping deeper, curling sharper. “love it when you beg. makes me wanna tie you up, keep you like this all night.” his voice is playful, but the idea’s a spark, and you shudder, the image of you bound and spread for him making you clench around his fingers.

he groans, feeling it, and sucks your clit hard, tongue swirling, fingers relentless. you’re close, he knows it—the way you tighten around him, the way your hips stutter, the way your cries turn hoarse, desperate. he doubles down, tongue sloppy, lips smacking wetly, fingers driving into you, chasing every gasp, every shudder. “c’mon, pretty girl,” he coos, words muffled, dripping with want. “cum for me. let me taste it. fuckin’ paint me.”

you shatter, a hoarse, sobbing cry tearing from your throat as you come undone, convulsing under him, waves of pleasure crashing through you, your body arching off the seat. he doesn’t stop, lips moving, tongue lapping, fingers pumping, drawing out every tremor, every aftershock, greedy for every drop.

you’re whimpering, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his shoulders, but he’s too far gone, chasing the last of your release, his mouth slick and shining.

“satoru, fuck,” you gasp, voice broken, hands shoving at him, but there’s no strength, just a plea he ignores. he grins against you, sloppy and drunk, and licks another slow, deliberate stripe, making you jolt, a fresh whimper spilling out.

“one more, baby,” he murmurs, voice thick, almost pleading, lips brushing your clit, teasing and soft. “you’ve got another for me, don’t you? know you do.” his fingers slide deeper, curling slow, coaxing, tongue flicking light, playful, drawing you back to the edge with a patience that’s more about his hunger than your comfort.

you’re a wreck, thighs trembling, breath hitching, but you can’t resist him, not when he’s like this—teasing, hungry, cooing like you’re his to unravel.

he adjusts, cramped knees creaking, one hand gripping your thigh to keep you spread, hooking your leg over his shoulder to open you wider. his tongue circles your clit, soft and teasing, fingers pumping slow, deep, dragging out every sensation until you’re whining, high and needy, hands tugging his hair again.

“look at you,” he purrs, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, his face a mess—lips swollen, cheeks glistening, chin dripping with you. “so fuckin’ perfect, falling apart for me. bet you’d let me do anything, huh?” he nips your inner thigh, a quick, sharp bite, and you gasp, hips jerking.

“satoru,” you plead, voice fraying, “too much.”

“too much?” he teases, tongue flicking your clit, light and quick, making you twitch. “thought you wanted me, baby. thought you couldn’t wait.” his fingers curl, slow and wicked, and you arch, a fresh cry spilling out. “that’s it, give me everything. love watching you break.”

he dives back in, tongue tracing lazy patterns, lips sucking soft, then hard, alternating to keep you guessing, keep you trembling. his fingers work deeper, stretching you, curling against that spot that makes your vision blur, the wet sounds filling the backseat, obscene and intoxicating.

he’s relentless, messy, eating you like he’s been denied for years, like every lick is a claim. his free hand slides up, cupping your breast through your dress, thumb circling your nipple, teasing until it’s hard, until you’re gasping, overwhelmed.

“wanna see you ride my face,” he murmurs, voice slurred, drunk on you, pulling back to catch his breath, his lips slick and shining. “wanna feel you grind, baby. c’mon, use me.” he doesn’t wait for an answer, just shifts, lying back on the seat, pulling you up, guiding your hips over his face, his hands firm but coaxing.

you hesitate, oversensitive, but he’s insistent, tugging you down, and when his tongue flicks your clit again, you’re gone, grinding against him, chasing the heat.

he groans, eager, hands gripping your ass, guiding your movements, his tongue relentless, flicking, circling, sucking. you’re a vision, dress hiked up, straps falling, hair a wild mess, and he’s lost, watching you use him, watching you fall apart again.

“that’s it, baby,” he coos, voice muffled, vibrating through you. “fuck my face, c’mon, give it to me.” his words are filthy, teasing, but the hunger’s raw, impatient, and you’re too far gone to care, hips rolling, chasing the edge again.

he sucks hard, fingers digging into your hips, and you shatter a second time, weaker but sharper, a cry ripping from you as you convulse, thighs shaking, his tongue still moving, still greedy.

he laps you through it, slow, deliberate, not stopping until you’re limp, gasping, hands falling loose in his hair. his lips are swollen, face glistening, eyes hazy, utterly wrecked. he presses one last kiss to your clit, soft, almost worshipful, before pulling back, panting, staring at you like you’ve rewritten his world.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he breathes, voice raw, teasing but frayed with want, his hands still roaming your thighs, like he can’t let go. “you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“want you,” you whisper, dragging satoru up from where he’s still panting between your thighs, lips slick and swollen, the taste of you lingering on his tongue as you crash into him.

the kiss is filthy, all teeth and hunger, a clash of desperation and need. your hands claw at his shoulders, nails biting through his shirt, pulling him so close it’s like you’re trying to carve yourself into him.

he moans, a low, wrecked sound, hands frantic as he helps you tear his shirt off. the fabric snags, rips at the seam, and you both laugh—breathless, wild, the sound swallowed by the thick air of the backseat.

you pause, hands splaying over his chest, fingers tracing the lean muscle under flushed skin, the faint freckles scattered across his collarbone like stars he never noticed. he’s beautiful, carved but human, chest heaving under your touch, eyes dark with a want that makes your breath catch.

“fuck, you’re staring,” he teases, voice rough but laced with a shy edge, a flush creeping up his neck that’s got nothing to do with the heat.

“can’t help it,” you murmur, tracing the sharp line of his abs, feeling the shudder that ripples through him. “you’re too damn pretty, toru.”

he curses, soft and reverent, a quiet “shit” that’s more prayer than profanity, and shoves his jeans down, kicking them into the backseat’s shadows with a clumsy thud.

his cock springs free—thick, flushed, the tip glistening with pre-cum, and you whimper, thighs clenching, a fresh wave of heat pooling low. he’s big, bigger than you’d imagined in your wildest, most reckless dreams, and the sight of him sends a thrill through you, sharp and electric.

he hesitates, forehead pressed to yours, breath hot and ragged, the air between you steaming with sweat and want. “baby, i don’t have a condom,” he says, voice tight, the words dragged out like they’re killing him, his hands trembling on your hips.

“don’t care,” you whisper, desperate, hands sliding to his hips, pulling him closer until his cock brushes your thigh, hot and heavy. “want you. all of you. please, satoru.”

he curses again, louder, a broken “fuck” as he drags his cock through your folds, slicking himself in your wetness, the head catching on your clit and making you gasp, hips jerking.

“last chance, sweetheart,” he coos, eyes locked on yours, pupils blown so wide the blue’s a thin ring, a man teetering on the edge of control. “you sure?”

“please,” you beg, wrapping your legs around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him closer. “need you inside me. now.”

he groans, a sound that’s all need, and pushes in slow, careful, watching your face with a focus that makes your heart stutter. the stretch is intense, a delicious burn that has you clutching his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, leaving marks he’ll trace later with a grin. he buries his face in your shoulder, moaning, the sound low and frayed, like he’s coming apart.

“fuck, you’re tight,” he whimpers, voice shaking, a teasing lilt undercut by raw hunger. “squeezin’ me so good, pretty girl.”

he moves slow, rocking into you, letting you adjust to the fullness, each shallow thrust stealing your breath. it stings, but it’s perfect—the way he fills you, the way he’s careful but desperate, holding back just enough to keep from breaking you. “more,” you beg, rolling your hips, greedy, chasing the friction, the pressure. “harder, satoru, please.”

“greedy little thing,” he teases, a chuckle that’s all heat, hands gripping your hips so tight you’ll bruise, a possessive edge to his touch as he pulls back, then fucks into you deeper, harder, the truck creaking with the force. you gasp, head falling back, nails raking down his back, leaving red trails he’ll wear like a trophy.

“satoru,” you sob, overwhelmed by the fullness, the way he hits every spot, splitting you open in the best way. the backseat’s too small, his knees bumping the door, your elbow grazing the fogged window, but it’s raw, filthy—the cramped space forcing you closer, bodies tangled, slick with sweat.

the air’s thick, heavy with the scent of sex, salt, and the faint coconut of your skin, windows fogged so tight you’re a secret hidden from the world.

“feels like fuckin’ heaven,” he pants, finding a rhythm, deep and steady, his cock dragging against your walls with every thrust, the wet sounds obscene, filling the cab.

the distant crash of waves below weaves through your gasps, his groans, the leather creaking under you. his hands roam, possessive, one sliding up to cup your breast through your dress, thumb teasing your nipple until it’s hard, making you whimper.

“look at you, baby,” he coos, voice teasing but frayed with impatience, “taking me so well.”

“let me ride you,” you gasp, pushing at his chest, desperate to feel him deeper, to take control, to make him unravel. your voice is a plea, high and needy, and his eyes flash, something feral sparking in them.

“fuck yes,” he murmurs, wild and breathless, a grin splitting his face. “come take it, gorgeous.” he flips you in one fluid motion, maneuvering in the tight space with a grace that’s almost unfair, pulling you on top as he settles back against the seat, the leather sticking to his sweat-slick back. his hands tug at your dress, impatient, a low growl in his throat. “off. now. wanna see every inch of you.”

you nod, frantic, yanking the sundress over your head, the fabric catching in your hair before you toss it aside. your breasts spill free, no bra—because of course, you fucking minx—and satoru moans, loud and broken, hands flying to cup them, thumbs brushing your nipples, sending jolts through you.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, squeezing gently, rolling the sensitive peaks until you arch, grinding against him, a whine slipping from your lips. he leans up, sucking one nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to sting, and you cry out, hips bucking instinctively.

“satoru,” you whimper, hands tangling in his hair, tugging hard, and he groans, switching to the other breast, lavishing it with wet, messy attention, his lips leaving a trail of heat. his hands roam—one squeezing your ass, urging you to move, the other pinching your nipple, making you shudder, your core clenching around nothing.

“ride me, baby,” he pants, pulling back, lips wet and swollen, eyes dark and hazy, pupils swallowing the blue. “take what’s yours. lemme see you fall apart.”

you sink down on him, trembling, the stretch deeper at this angle, a sharp, perfect ache that has you whimpering, pausing to adjust, your breath hitching. he fills you completely, the head of his cock kissing your cervix, and you grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, grounding yourself.

“that’s it, pretty girl,” he coos, hands steadying your hips, guiding you gently, his voice teasing but laced with a hunger that betrays his impatience. “fuck, you feel so good. so fuckin’ perfect.”

you move, hips rolling, clumsy at first, finding a rhythm that sends sparks up your spine. the leather sticks to your thighs, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the windows fogged so tight you’re a world unto yourselves. his hands help, guiding your hips, but his eyes are glued to where you’re joined, watching his cock disappear into you, slick and glistening, a low groan spilling from his lips.

“look at you,” he breathes, voice thick with awe, a teasing edge fraying with need. “so fuckin’ gorgeous, taking me like that.”

every roll of your hips is electric, your thighs quivering, the effort making your muscles burn, but it’s worth it for the way he looks at you—like you’re a goddess, like he’s worshiping you with every thrust.

he meets you halfway, thrusting up, matching your pace, the truck rocking with the force, creaking and swaying like it’s barely holding together. his hands slide to your breasts, squeezing, thumbs teasing your nipples until you’re moaning, loud and shameless, lost in the heat of him.

“mine,” he murmurs, pulling you down for a rough kiss, teeth catching your lip, biting just enough to make you gasp. “fuck, you’re mine, baby. always have been.”

“yours,” you sob, collapsing against his chest, hips still grinding, chasing the pressure building inside you, a coil winding tighter with every move. his hands are everywhere—gripping your ass, cupping your breasts, sliding to your clit, rubbing messy, desperate circles that have you shaking, so close you can taste it.

he shifts, adjusting the angle, one hand braced against the door to keep his balance, the other guiding your hips faster, harder.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he pants, voice wrecked, eyes locked on yours, a teasing grin fading into raw hunger. “gimme another. wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

his thrusts turn brutal, deep, hitting that spot over and over, and you’re gone, shattering around him, walls clenching tight, dragging a low, desperate moan from his throat as he feels you pulse, hot and wet. but he’s not done. you’re still trembling, riding out the aftershocks, when he grows impatient, his cock throbbing, the need to cum clawing at him.

“fuck, baby, you’re too slow,” he teases, but his voice is strained, fraying with lust, a man on the edge. his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, and he lifts you, bouncing you on his lap with a strength that makes you gasp, the truck shaking with every movement.

“satoru,” you whimper, hands clutching his shoulders, nails scoring his skin as he sets a relentless pace, thrusting up into you, each slam of your hips against his sending shocks through you. the angle’s deeper, his cock hitting that sweet spot with every bounce, and you’re helpless, a ragdoll in his hands, your breasts bouncing, your moans spilling out, loud and broken.

“that’s it, baby,” he coos, but it’s dark, impatient, his eyes wild as he watches you, watches himself disappear into you, slick and messy. “fuck, you feel so good. gonna—shit, gonna cum if you keep squeezing me like that.” his hands tighten, bouncing you faster, harder, the wet sounds of your bodies colliding filling the backseat, obscene and intoxicating.

“please,” you beg, voice fracturing, overwhelmed by the intensity, the way he’s taking you apart again. “want it, satoru. want you.”

“fuck, say that again,” he groans, thrusting up harder, his voice teetering on desperate, the teasing gone, replaced by raw need. “tell me you want me.”

“want you,” you gasp, clinging to him, your lips brushing his jaw, his neck, as he bounces you, the friction driving you to the edge again. “want you so bad, toru. always have.”

he’s unraveling, his thrusts turning sloppy, erratic, his breath hitching as he chases his release. “fuck, baby, you’re too much,” he pants, hands sliding to your ass, squeezing hard, guiding you down onto him one last time. “gonna—fuck, i can’t—”

he pulls out just in time, groaning loud and broken, spilling across your thighs, hot and thick, painting your skin as he slumps against you, panting into the crook of your neck, both of you trembling, spent.

for a long moment, it’s just the ocean’s roar below, the frantic thud of your hearts, the sticky heat wrapping you tight, the air heavy with the scent of sex and salt. he grabs his discarded shirt, cleaning you up with slow, careful swipes, his touch soft now, almost reverent, his fingers lingering on your skin.

“you okay, pretty girl?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, his lips warm, lingering, like he’s memorizing you.

“perfect,” you sigh, nuzzling into him, your body loose, sated, still buzzing with aftershocks, the leather creaking under you as you shift closer.

he helps you tug your dress back on, hands trailing soft, teasing paths over your shoulders, your collarbone, stealing kisses between every adjustment, his lips brushing your skin like he can’t bear to stop.

you’re curled together in the sticky heat, limbs tangled, the backseat too small but perfect for this—pressed close, hearts still racing, the fogged windows shielding you from the world. he checks his phone, and there’s one message from suguru:

you suck at hiding it. don’t get her pregnant, dumbass.

satoru groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder, his hair tickling your neck, a laugh bubbling up despite the mortification. “busted,” he mutters, half-amused, half-dreading the inevitable lecture.

“worth it,” you giggle, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging lightly, your lips brushing his temple, soft and warm, a promise in the touch.

tangled together under the heavy night, the world slipping out of focus—it’s just you and him, caught up in something quiet and reckless, something that feels too big to name.

a/n : ew i cant believe i had to mention sukuna but dw he got hit by a ten wheeler truck while the ending was happening. i scrapped the sorta aftermath of this which is one week later because it included risky beach sex.. lmk if y'all would want to see it ^_^

[arolesbianism]

The Joshua section of my oni playlist is looking great so far