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kireilien · 3 days ago

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obsessed.

pair. bf!seungcheol x fem!reader; wc. 2,737

tw/cw. nsfw content, cursing, intentional lowercase, not proofread, alcohol use; plot heavy story, angst-ish?, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, race neutral reader, reader is an overthinker, food play, alcohol consumption, wam (wet and messy), slight spit play, kissing, oral (f receiving), cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, nipple play, unprotected sex, doggy style over the counter, hair pulling, use of “cheol,” and “baby”

note. please don’t fucking eat people out do anything w alcohol like this, this is fiction THIS IS FAKE

synopsis. thinking of how shit your life was, you genuinely thought your boyfriend would break up with you. turns out he never would because he’s way too obsessed with you!

you felt like all of your feelings overwhelmed you. work has been terrible. your personal life is as shitty as it could be. you and your boyfriend have been distant more than ever. everything. literally everything in your life was actually horrible.

day after day.

afternoon after afternoon.

night after night.

it just repeats. every single damn time. nothing is new to you anymore. you wake up. get ready for work. step into the office. get yelled off by your coworkers and boss. work over time because you’re the only one who doesn’t have any plans. get home. eat a shitty ass meal. get unready. sleep. then it repeats.

so what could you be doing out of all the days of rest? it's watching movies on your living room couch and just being a complete slob. you’ve never let it got this low. you turned your phone on silent, left your laptop away, and the only thing electronic with you was your tv.

time passes. your low and hazy-like eyes shift to the clock onto the top left of your tv screen, barely even focusing.

10:30/22:30.

huh. didn’t know being a slob was that much of a waste of time. in a blink of an eye, the day has already passed.

without much of a thought, you knew that there weren’t going to be any important notifications besides the typical notifications you would get from random apps on your phone that you didn’t bother to turn off.

but to your surprise, there was something important.

missed calls from your boyfriend, seungcheol.

you regretted seeing those missed calls. you haven’t been the greatest partner these past few months to him. your life came crashing down, what could you do?

reluctantly so, you picked up one of his calls.

the last call out of all five he sent was approximately two hours ago. surely he’d be active, right? there weren’t any voicemails left by his number anyways. you were slightly scared though when the echoing ring filled your right ear from your phone being flat against it.

you grit your teeth. what if he wanted to break up? it wasn’t gonna be a surprise if he wanted to. like before, being a shitty partner and being absent in all ways isn’t the best partner. yet, a small, painful ping in your heart says you could’ve done better.

it picks up.

“y/n?” seungcheol exhales.

you’ve missed his voice like crazy. you temporarily forgot why he was your boyfriend in the first place. he’s the first man who really made you feel love in your heart rather than your other exes.

“cheol,” you smile behind the phone.

“can i come over?” he sighs.

you immediately felt your smile and heart fall after you hear those four words. he was definitely going to break up with you. you couldn’t believe it. you swore to yourself you could’ve prevented it. you were just too late.

“cheol. i’m so sorry,” your teeth were clenched but, you carried on, “i wish i could’ve been better for you. you don’t need to come over. i’m so, so sorry.”

before you knew it, your water line fills with salty tears; daringly about to fall and roll down your cheeks.

“y/n, what the fuck do you mean?” seungcheol laughs lightly against the phone. you could hear a bag rustle in the background of his call with a few glass bottles getting put into that said bag. “baby, i’m coming over. we’re talking but we are definitely not breaking up.”

you took a moment to recollect what just happened in the last few seconds. seungcheol isn’t mad at you. he isn’t breaking up with you either?

after a quick pause and a quick wiping of your eyes, you continued the conversation, “uhm, sure. what’re you doing?”

“let’s have a drink. we haven’t drank any soju in a while, have we?” he mumbles a bit after hearing him shuffling out the door while exiting his apartment complex.

“oh. yeah, we haven’t. when you coming?” you were glad he wasn’t angry, but you were still confused why he wasn’t.

“like uhh, gonna be there in 10?” seungcheol hums as you hear the dragging of his slippers against the concrete of his complex garage.

“cool, ‘kay see you then, cheol,” you sigh in relief. unconsciously, you were picking at the sides of your couch pillows in nervousness though.

“yeah, see ‘ya, baby.” he ends the call as he turns on his engine of his car.

your phone drops beside you; lightly bouncing on the fabric of your couch. you were definitely gonna get a small earful of what seungcheol has to say about you worrying. he hates hearing you worry.

but never mind that. you at least wanted to tidy yourself up before seungcheol arrives. so, you changed out to newer pajamas and headed over to the kitchen to pull out your cute matching shot glasses, remembering how it was still early on into your relationship when you got them.

you still remember your weekly drinking sessions with cheol. they were so giggly. sometimes glum, most times intimate and borderline sexual. nonetheless, you also missed drinking with him. you miss the nights where it was just the two of you alone. no one ever joined in. it was because it was a secret between you and him. just a night. for the two of you.

as you were lost in your romantic thoughts, seungcheol rings the doorbell. lightly skipping over, you swing the door open to your ever-so handsome boyfriend. everything from his tousled deep black hair, white tee, gray loose zip up, some black sweats, and his black slippers that you heard over the phone, was just perfect.

the little thumps in your heart came again. just like a few months back when you still visited him often.

“soju?” he gleefully lifts up the crinkled plastic bag while tilting his head down to place a small kiss against your lips.

you return this kiss while nodding, “i have our shot glasses out.”

taking off his slippers, you guide him to your kitchen counter where your glasses are. cheol snickers at them, still remembering those fond memories of the two of you drinking every week.

“shall we?” you grin.

“we shall,” he reciprocates.

opening up a brand new bottle of soju, specifically the blue bottle by jinro, seungcheol pours out some for the both of you. “no tricks this time?” you poke at your boyfriend.

he rolls his eyes. he always used to do those fancy tricks when he drank. cheol sighs and closes the bottle up again. he flips the bottle, making his arms crossed to open it up again and rearranged his hands again to flick some of the alcohol towards you. you flinch away from the splatter, giggling at his attempts to have some fun.

finally, the two of you brought your respective shot glasses up to have a small clink for a cheers and shot it down your mouths in a quick second. the gasp of the cool alcohol leaves your lips, already needing more of the addicting drink.

one shot, down.

half a bottle, down.

one bottle, down.

another half bottle, down.

before you knew it, the both of your brains started to cog a different way than before. you could already tell by the silence in between all the shots the two of you took.

after the moments of silence, cheol speaks up, “y’know. i’ve missed you,” he murmurs with his tired eyes.

you snicker, “how can you miss me when i’ve been the shittiest girlfriend ever? i never pick up your calls or texts. i never—.” before you could even continue, seungcheol immediately shuts you up by pressing his lips against yours for a quick second.

“you really needa stop doing that. i miss you. that’s it. i’m obsessed with you at this point. not even just now, i’ve been obsessed with you. there’s no other way around it,” he sighs while softly tap-slapping your cheek.

“oh, really?” you twiddle with your shot glass, rolling it between your fingers.

“yes, really.” seungcheol is confused why you’re dragging this out for so long. why couldn’t you just realize it?

“hey,” he breaths out.

“what?” you retort back.

“how about i show you how obsessed i am with you,” cheol simpers.

“sure.” you liked how this was going.

seungcheol immediately attaches your lips with his again, however in a romantic-like gesture. his hands slide onto your body so fluidly he reaches down, all the way to your hips. while yours found their way up and about in his hair. you could both taste the soju dancing along your mouths, loving the way it mixed into your saliva.

quickly enough, breaths began to get rapid. the two of you were almost animalistic with each other; hands were everywhere. seungcheol’s grunts and your whines were more than enough to understand that the both of you couldn’t get enough of each other. you still didn’t believe the man you thought you lost was making your mouth messy with his.

“fuck it,” cheol let’s your plumped lips go and downs the rest of the soju remained in the bottle. but, he leaves half of it still in his mouth, waiting for someone to drink the rest. that someone, is you.

he returns back the kiss, allowing the alcohol slip down your mouth, ingesting it along with the enhancing wetness of his spit from the soju beforehand. you were well dizzy from this point on. not from the drinking though. it was purely from seungcheol. he’s driving you crazy, nothing like ever before.

you couldn’t help yourself. you needed him so, so, bad. you zip off his zip up jacket, throwing it across the kitchen somewhere; as well as his shirt to reveal his bulky figure he’s been building up these past few months.

cheol was ravenous. you didn’t know if it was from the buzzing from the alcohol or the making out, but he was sure enough it was just from you.

he slips off your pants and underwear, leaving you bottom naked for him to prop you up on your cold kitchen counter. you lay back on your propped up elbows to give him a wide view of your dripping cunt, out and ready for him to use.

taking another bottle from his bag, seungcheol twists open another bottle of soju to pour a few drops over cunt for him. “fuck— i need you, cheol. i need you so bad.” you whimper under his touch.

“i got you, baby, lemme make you feel so good,” he mutters a bit before outlining your sopping pussy, kissing a few times over. seungcheol hooks his bulky arms underneath your thighs to have you lie completely down the counter to make sure he has all of you, melting in his hands.

at this point the soju, his saliva, and your juices covered your inner thighs. you couldn’t bare to open your eyes. cheol made you crazy. he knew how to mess with your head. his hands even pulled down to slide his thumbs on the edges of your inner lips to extend his view of your pretty cunt.

you were melting on the counter. your hands were tangling his hair, legs were hooked were propped on his back, and you didn’t give a single fuck of how loud you were being. moan after whine after whimper was continuously falling with seungcheol’s name. you couldn’t help it.

soon after, the knot in your stomach felt tighter and tighter in seconds. “fuck—! cheol ‘m gonna—!” you groaned out.

“come on my face, baby— lemme taste your sweet cum,” he sighs against your drenched cunt.

in a matter of seconds the knot in you snapped, causing you to release your cum all over seungcheol’s face. he laps your juices to make sure he tasted all of you and comes back up to your face, “god, baby— you see— literally obsessed enough to eat you out with alcohol dripping down your pretty pussy,” he mumbles as he stares into your eyes while taking his hand to dip down and rub small rings around your clit.

“more— i need more, cheol.”

“take off this top, baby, i’ll give you more.”

you discard your shirt to some other place in the kitchen as cheol shoots down the rest of alcohol in the bottle in his mouth. seungcheol then latches his mouth around your right nipple. your mouth shot open with strings of curses leaving your lips, relishing in the coldness from the soju, as well as the warmth of his mouth.

his lips danced between both of your nipples and down to your stomach, back up to your lips. “slide down, baby. i wanna fuck you— wanna fuck you so bad,” cheol groans in your ear. you nod quickly before pressing your torso down against the semi-cold and semi-hot counter.

seungcheol strips himself as quickly as he possibly could and lines himself against your cunt; nearly breathless. the vibrations from your whines buzzes against your cheek. you were on overdrive at this point. your brain was mush, and it was about to become every bit more mushed.

with one quick push, cheol bottoms himself out completely in you; gaining two hearty moans from the both of your mouths.

after a few pauses, cheol whispers against your ear, “you good, baby?”

“mhm, please, fuck me, cheol.”

cheol slides his hands under your hips to slide yourself on and off your cock. the slickness of your cunt and the soju claps between cheol’s cock. although the pace was slow at first, the speed and intensity soon picked up.

you couldn’t contain your moans of movement. your hands started to become sporadic. your hands gripped onto the edge of the counter to the flat middle of the counter. seungcheol noticed your hands but his eyes eventually trailed to the a few bottles still unopened in his plastic bag.

he stopped his movements and slipped his hands out from your hips to open up another bottle. as one hand holds the bottle cheol’s other hand slides up to your hair and pulls it back, making your back flesh against his chest. “you haven’t drank that much tonight, baby. care for a drink?” seungcheol seductively hums in your ear.

your mouth slacks open for cheol to pour a good amount of the soju for you to gulp down. a sigh of relief exits your mouth from the soju but that was soon interrupted by a sudden snap of cheol’s hips. his tip just grazes your cervix from that snap, causing you to gasp.

“you seem to like the drink more than my dick, baby.” cheol tsked from your reaction.

“no— i don’t! fuck me, cheol. i love your cock. i’m obsessed with it,” you frantically try to buck your hips back to fuck your self back on his cock.

he chuckles at your weak attempts of fucking yourself back on his cock. “here, drink the rest, will you? lemme make you feel good.” seungcheol passes the bottle off as his hands finds your hips again to sharply snap his hips against yours.

meanwhile, you could barely hold the cold rim against your lips. with each thrust up, you caught a tremble in the glass. you needed to get this over with. you didn’t care that the strong liquid pours over your chin and onto the countertops. with quick gulps, the majority of the soju was gone.

finally, you could focus on cheol’s cock. the glass rings from the sudden hit of your hands to the countertop, literally nothing could phase you past your boyfriends cock. it was too heavenly to focus on anything else.

the thick veins on his dick are pulsing from the friction between him and the slickness of your cunt; just dripping from arousal. your moans and whines intertwined with cheol’s grunts and groans; it was almost too erotic.

eventually, cheol’s thrusts started to become stronger yet, slower. with a few more pumps, the both of you came; coating each other in your sticky fluids. after a few hearty breaths, seungcheol comes close to your face.

“can’t you see i’m obsessed with you?” seungcheol kisses your cheek gently.

“yeah— can now,” you smile from his kiss.

even then, you were already obsessed with seungcheol from the start.

#♡︎ kireilien officials #kpop smut #kpop smut blog #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen scoups smut #scoups smut #kpop hard hours #kpop hard thoughts

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madwomansapologist · 18 hours ago

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IF YOU'RE SICK LIGHT A CANDLE (JUST DON'T ASK ME TO LEAVE) | N. KENTO

synopsis ; kento never intended to hate you. it wasn’t his fault. he won't steal from you the credit of being the most irritating omega alive, not when you work so hard to deserve the title. his only fault, and for that kento takes all the blame, is his inability to stay away from you. not that he wants to.

tags ; no curses, omegaverse, office au, meet ugly, workaholic alpha nanami x chill beta-passing omega reader, one sided delusional hate to love, fell first/feel harder? more like fell flat on their faces with those untied shoes, nanami kento the yearning final boss, heavy on possessiveness, love confessions, explicit sexual content ft. virginity loss (nanami), blowjob, facesitting, knotting, heat, lowkey sub!nanami.

warnings ; 13K words (give it a chance), gender expectations being surreal and bad past relationships.

also ; ao3 link | spotify playslist | pinterest board

[ignored lessons]

First day into elementary school, blonde hair combed to exhaustion and round glasses with thick lenses, Kento wrote down everything that sounded important. Languages are ancient, his meticulous handwriting occupied the very first line of the notebook. Black ink, underlined twice.

Annoyingly meticulous handwriting, since Kento remember being mocked by a taller boy for ripping out one of the pages after a misspell. He also remembers it being something about words as evidence of how long mankind survived—by the time he didn’t know what mankind meant. His teacher was too old and far too poetic but learning new words made Kento excited for Mondays.

Weeks later, Kento had a secret: he loved studying. He despised school around his friends, but Kento always knew what chapter the teacher finished off last class or what pages to read for the next exam. The first week of school meant discovering the semester’s mandatory reading—Kento would devour it all in a month.

His family praised him for being smart, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that Kento wouldn’t believe once they started saying words can lose meaning if not used right. That’s the opposite of what his literature teacher spent the entire year explaining. He has his notebook to prove it.

“If they did”, Kento reasoned with his dad as if he was the adult. “Not a single language would have survived. You yell my name all the time and I still answer. It has the same meaning as it ever did.”

“Some words, if used too often, will lose meaning inside of your heart”, his dad sighed. “Hate is one of those words. One you use way too much, puppy.”

That made Kento snarl. “I’m eight and a half!”

“On that we won’t argue”, he grinned. Messing up the hair Kento combed for ages, he went back to slicing vegetables. Without washing his hands first, Kento quietly judged him. “You’re just like your mom. I bet you’ll be an alpha.”

Kento pretended to agree since he planned on not eating green bell pepper at dinner. His father should be grateful that he isn’t an adult already, because Adult Kento wouldn’t fear disgusting food as punishment for saying the truth. Adult Kento wouldn’t be ashamed of being right. Adult Kento wouldn’t be ashamed of being himself.

As if presenting as an omega or beta would stop him from questioning what doesn’t make sense. And that whole story about losing meaning inside his heart? If I forget the meaning of a word, Kento cursed inside his bedroom, I can just read a dictionary.

His father was being unfair and Kento absolutely hates that.

He thought adults didn’t need to agree with illogical arguments, but years later Adult Kento was made aware of his past self’s mistake. The countless times he heard that hate is such a strong word without uttering a response. One that he shouldn’t be so casual about. Otherwise, they always warn, it’ll turn meaningless.

Needless to say, Kento hates illogical arguments. And he hates his neighbor’s predisposition to loud music. Not charging his phone at night, working overtime, stumbling on a stair in the dark. Green bell pepper, as one does. And you. Recently, Kento hates you the most.

Better wage, same workhours, different boss: it was a good offer. Good enough for Kento to submit his resignation letter and start as an accountant in this firm. Annoying tasks, tense meetings, coffee machine out of order: with this salary, nothing would be a problem for Kento. But you had to ruin it.

After a quick meeting with the manager and being introduced to the financial team, Kento placed his briefcase on the desk designated for him. That is, on what little space was left for him. He sighed for the first time that day.

Frames lacking pictures, empty perfume flask, crumpled posts its. There was a mug filled with pens and a hairbrush, yet most of them were all over the place. Who needs that many pens? Who uses pens nowadays? The pen-hairbrush mug had lipstick marks on.

Kento sighed for the second time when he looked at the desk beside his.

It’s clear his colleague doesn’t know the basics of a keyboard, considering the bag—among many colorful brooches he found one with the omega symbol—pressing P onto an open page. Neither do they understand that one shouldn’t pile used plastic cups and folded science magazines on top of a printer. A vase of magnolias was a surprise amidst all that mess. One Kento quickly forgot, his right eyelid twitching at the sight of acetone and nail polish near piles of documents.

“Morning”, an energetic voice scared Kento off his thoughts. He suppressed a snarl with ease. “You’re the new accountant, right?”

He expected you to be embarrassed but all Kento saw was an omega far more interest in her coffee than his face. As if you could even taste coffee with that much whipped cream. Staring at your eyelids, he didn’t notice the third sigh.

What he noticed was your fully exposed throat. No adhesive patch over your glands or collar around your neck. Golden bracelets covered part of your inner wrists, tinkling pendants bringing more attention to your bare glands.

Thankfully, there was no nauseating scent—a side effect of his suppressants. There was no scent at all coming from you. Good. It would feel like a bad omen to throw up on his first day at this job.

Kento could never go out like that. A dark blue collar covered the base of his neck, thick leather bracelets doing the same beneath his sleeves. He has spares on his briefcase and a flask of black pepper perfume―the only Kento ever found able of covering his natural scent. And it only works because of the hellish amount of suppressants he ingests daily.

That doesn’t mean he judges you for not using anything to cover your scent. The opposite of his, yours is delicate enough to go unnoticed without effort. Still, he would bet money that you forgot to buy an adhesive patch on. And for that Kento does judge you.

“Yes, I am”, he bent down, trying to remain polite. “Nanami Kento.”

“No need for formalities”, you gestured for him to stood up. Posture fixed, Kento watched you unlock the second drawer of your desk. In quick movements, you put all your mess inside the drawer and lock it once more.

Sitting down, you smiled. It reached your eyes, baring your fangs to him. “Welcome.” After telling him your name, you took a sip from the so-called coffee and grabbed your bag. “I’m here if you need any help.”

Kento made a silent promise to never ever come to you if he needed help.

Erasing everything your bag pressed, you searched for something inside it and quickly forgot about Kento’s existence. He threw away a few ignored crumbled papers and came back to his desk to find you holding a headset.

Not only you didn’t care about the organization of your workplace, but you were also unable to apologize or even collect all your things on your own. And as if it wasn’t enough, you offered help just to immediately make sure Kento wouldn’t be able to talk to you.

Adult Kento realized that, to a certain extent, his father was right. That same lesson he heard time and time again, even after his dad claimed to have given up on making him understand, was correct. Inside his heart, the word hate lost its meaning. You and loud music can’t be described with the same word. Maybe he really shouldn’t have used it so often…

No. Kento realized that wasn’t the problem. This isn’t about a word losing meaning, but simply about it not being the correct choice to describe what Kento feels about you.

Within knowing you for less than two minutes, he knew. Kento loathed you.

He’s so nice, you put the noise canceling headset to check on the presentation for today’s meeting. You made a mental note to search in your folders for the introductory material to send him. He didn’t care about all this mess. I’ll get him some coffee later.

[heavy silence]

College was a sour disillusion. He didn’t want to, he couldn’t, but Kento had to face the facts: he wouldn’t learn much there. Not to say his professors weren’t qualified—they all made sure to overexplain their resumes. They were simply incompetent at teaching.

Celebrating with wine that didn’t deserve the bottle it was on, Kento hung his diploma below old shelves and went on with his life. All by himself. Kento came to regret that later. He wondered how it would feel like. To have someone to celebrate with. Vinegar wine and all that.

At job interviews he would say his college years taught him to communicate, collect problem solver abilities and manage to work as a team. The truth? The most important lesson Kento taught himself was how to make lists.

Concepts not fully explained, names no professor bothered to spell out, books mentioned on the thirtieth’s slide footnote. The only thing Kento carried to his classes were an agenda and pens. After his lists of what seemed important were done, he would head home and try to learn something before his shift. Once he got it, Kento would risk the topic and move on.

It was addictive. Marking a task as complete. From what bills to pay to what groceries to buy; if it was something Kento could divide into smaller tasks, it became easier to accomplish. Suddenly he didn’t have to clean his entire house, only to do the dishes.

(Later, Kento noticed a weird pattern. Most of his lists had seven points.)

His phone replaced the crumpled agenda, but nothing replaced this ceaseless need to organize his life. An urge that simply evolved as the years passed. Boxes checked disguised as caution.

A month into this workplace and a couple of lists already occupied his phone. Kento annotated daily and weekly tasks before the pattern haunting the corner of his desk was noticed. Unable to unsee it, Annoying Moments was created.

And there wasn’t a working day all boxes weren’t checked.

She’ll say hello by handing me an awful coffee mug.

She’ll greet every single person.

She’ll comment on the weather.

She’ll invite me to lunch with other accountants.

She won’t throw away a plastic cup.

She’ll joke about something I don’t know.

She’ll smile at me before clocking off.

Until the morning you weren’t there.

Your absence meant no small talk or sugary coffee for Kento to endure. Nails tapping his part of the desk, smiles to not reciprocate and forgotten trash for him to ignore. It also meant no boxes checked but for once Kento couldn’t care.

It was a good day. A productive one as well considering Kento waited for the weekly meeting to start rather than rushing to the conference room. The problem was that he saw you there, too.

You weren’t late. There wouldn’t be a coffee with whipped cream beside your notebook if you were. Kento lost track of you in the crowded elevator, spellbound by the blend of too many scents, but back at his desk you were still not there. Absent, just like your flower vase.

She must have been promoted, Kento continued to work. Good for her, good for me.

As usual, Kento was the last one to go home. He stretched and unwrinkled his suit, checking if the collar around his neck was in the right place. Kento grabbed his air pods and turned off the lights.

“Hey! I’m here.”

Kento eyes widened. A beat later, he turned around and saw a blue glim at the back of the office. He really thought to be alone. There was no scent to proof him wrong. Good thing Kento overgrew talking to himself when concentrating.

Kento turned on the lights. “Have a good night.”

A head rose above the sea of computers. “You too”, you waved at him. No smile to be seen. Not even a small one.

The elevator door was about to close when Kento headed back into the office. Not knowing why or what he would do, Kento walked to your desk prepared to surprise himself with whatever words come out of his mouth. Staring at the empty flower vase, he hesitated.

His presence didn’t surprise you. Nothing new. Kento could never totally hide his scent. It doesn’t matter how many suppressants are forced down his throat or what collars he puts on. Kento is too much, it doesn’t matter if he tries not to.

“New desk”, Kento gave a try at small talk.

You glanced at him, then went back at typing. “Even someone stupid like me can understand when my presence isn’t welcome”, you hummed, attention shattered. “Good night.”

He should’ve gone home. Just as he should’ve stayed in the elevator. Instead, Kento found himself acting on a whim for the second time that day—second time that week, month, year. He sat down.

Watching you attach files to an email, Kento tried to understand what made you think that of him. Besides the fact he does not welcome your presence in any sense. Kento never noticed he expressed so clearly his inner thoughts. Although it makes him want to snarl sometimes, Kento remains polite no matter what.

“You saw it”, he stated. It was the only viable option.

“Annoying Moments.” Kento heard no grudge on your voice. It just made him feel worse. “I was right beside you when you opened it. Happens all the time.”

His entrails burned. “People make lists about you all the time?”, Kento managed to utter.

“No. That was a first.” Glancing over everything, you searched for any typos. After finding none, you faced Kento. You did enough for today. “People think I’m not around because I have no scent. Don’t apologize. Don’t bother pretending you’re sorry. You’re only embarrassed for being caught up acting so childish.”

Your honesty is sharp. It cuts deep. Unlike his omissions for the sake of a peaceful coexistence. There was no secret meaning he had to look for. You’re not ashamed of being yourself, hiding beneath layers of politeness. Your heart is at the tip of your tongue, beating at your every word.

Kento swallowed his pride. It hurt him to reciprocate your gaze—unaware of you biting your tongue to not laugh at his blushing cheeks. “Why are you here?”

You blinked twice. “I’m working.”

“It’s late”, he said. “You’re never here at night.”

You turned everything off. His left eye twitched at you using the flared end of your high heel to press the CPU’s energy button without closing any of the open pages.

“This request took more time than I’ve imagined. No. I’ve been telling this lie all day. I forgot about it completely. And you?”

“Working overtime.”

“Of course you are”, you stood up, stretching your arms as you walked towards the elevator. Kento followed you and pressed the last button. “You seem like the type.”

“The type to what?”

Feeling it all moving down, you closed your eyes and imagined your soft bed waiting for you. It didn’t help to make you feel less tired. “To live to work.”

“You seem like the type, too”, Kento stared at your closed eyelids. “To forget important things.”

You opened an eye. He looked away. “Because I am. Will you add that to your list?”

“No”, Kento crossed his arms. “It doesn’t particularly annoy me.”

That earned Kento a good laugh. Not a chuckle, roll of eyes or polite smile. A loud, tempestuous laugh. Kento could almost feel it vibrating on your chest, fangs glistening as you failed to breathe. The type of laugh that hurts a tiny bit. His exhaustion faded away.

As you shrank in yourself, hands covering your face as if laughing would be enough to make it fall out of place, Kento noticed something new. A scent faint yet evocative. So delicate it would’ve been ignored if you two weren’t alone in a closed space. Saline and distant, like a half-forgotten memory of the sea.

You smelled like vacations.

With an acute bell the door opened and revealed the underground parking. You headed out first. Motionless, Kento stared at your back. He couldn’t look away. You waved at him, laughter transmuted into a tender smile.

“Good night, Nanami-kun”, your words reached him in soft waves. Nothing like the effortless tone he heard minutes before. It made him want to tell another joke. “See you tomorrow.”

Kento breathed deep, not feeling nauseous at all.

[not apologizing]

It took you a few hours to realize. Staring at the empty spot on the desk, you doubted yourself. Did the vase really disappear, or did you just forget you took it home with you? You do that all the time. Assume having lost things you put somewhere else.

The realization hits when you smell flowers in the air. It made you turn your head, following the invisible path the gentle perfume made to reach your nose. A blonde head became the focus of your gaze. And beside it, that old vase filled with lilies and gardenias.

“What’s with the smile?”, Shoko murmured. As your gaze flicked, her black eyes had already landed on her wristwatch. Counting down the minutes, she sighed. “Thought of something funny?”

“Not really. Just feeling proud”, you said. “Found something I almost lost.”

It was supposed to overwhelm you. Different scents and artificial perfumes. For omegas and alphas, it would be normal for it to be too much sometimes. It would be fine to feel as if the air unsheathed a weapon design to bring you down.

It all is too little for you. You don’t notice scents unless someone ignores your personal space. Your fangs hurt if you use them to cut meat. Those uncontrollable primal desires you heard of have never been more than a concept. Unforgiven urges seem to be forgiven when it comes to you.

Presenting a secondary gender should make you feel different. Still the same, but now aware of something new. Like finding the last piece of a puzzle in your pocket. You already saw most of the landscape. It would make no real difference to see the bottom of a mountain. But now you see the picture wholly, it’s just as you’ve imagined, and it still does make a difference.

You presented as an omega two years ago. Not as a preteen, which is the most common, nor in your teenager years. It was as an adult, with an adult job and adult bills to pay. No inner revelation, all you got from it were exhaustive heats and scentless glands.

Too little where you should be too much, according to the last omega you dated. You got used to saying you’re a beta to avoid invasive questions—although betas notice scents and an omega on heat would be mistaken as someone applying too much perfume by you. She said lying was less embarrassing than the truth.

Presenting as an omega, you found the last piece. It didn’t fit into the landscape anymore, too crumpled to be useful. You think it depends on who you ask. If an incomplete puzzle is worth the time it demands.

“That’s a change of pace for you”, Shoko stood up, absentmindedly grabbing her jacket. “I’ll use the bathroom and then I’m ready to go.”

You moved as well. Leaning on the desk, your fingers rubbed the scratches from all the times you dropped something on it. The flowers tide up nicely with a blue-ribbon bow keeping them together. There was even a coffee mug.

“I’ve told you not to apologize.”

Before concentrating on his notebook, Kento stared at you with what you assume to be the closest he can get from looking surprised. His eyebrows moved slightly up. Or maybe you’re imagining things.

“I’m not.” Kento took off his glasses. He opened his drawer, then a box, and got a tissue to clean it. Huh. When you remember to wear glasses, you clean them on whatever blouse you’re on. “I’ve meant to tell you to enjoy your sugar bomb. It’s cold now.”

You took a sip of it anyway. Instant regret. Every muscle on your face squirmed in directions you never thought to be possible. It all came in waves. “You think”, it took everything on you to not throw up. “You think a human being can ingest this much sugar?”

Kento frowned. Now it has moved, you’re sure of it. You think. “I didn’t put that much.”

“You could kill a small horse with that”, you put the mug down. “Congrats, Nanami-kun. You created a weapon of mass destruction.”

Kento chuckled. “Of said horses?”

It couldn’t even be considered a laugh. All Kento did was exhale through his teeth, lips stretching just enough to make his cheeks move. It was his brown eyes that took you by surprise. The way they softened, showing that his malicious tone had no malice at all.

You hesitate, biting your tongue to stop yourself from saying the wrong thing. You didn’t want his eyes to come back to what they usually are. Disinterest, almost apathetic if not by the stress they carry so visibly. Kento seemed happier now and you didn’t want to ruin this.

“Small horses”, you corrected. His lips tugged higher.

A coat landed on your lap, shaking you away from your howling thoughts. It saved you from drowning in his glassy eyes.

Shoko nodded to Kento, the adhesive scent block on her neck as a prove Satoru was also ready to go out. Who else would dare to put digimon stickers on it if not him? Who else would annoy her enough not to notice them?

“What about soba and beer?”, Shoko thought out loud more than asked you.

“I’m not feeling hungry”, you battled against the buttons on your coat. Kento felt his left eye twitching. Protected from the cold outside, you smiled at yourself. “Beer for me, I guess.”

“It’s a nice place, Nanami. Peaceful even at Friday nights”, Shoko didn’t bother to spell out her invitation. She gestured for you to follow her. “They’re waiting for us.”

“You should come, too.” Careful not to harm it, you removed a lily from the vase. Nose against the petals, you looked at him. “But you won’t.”

It was a nice place. Away from the crowded streets, warm and cozy. Soba came with tempura and grilled mochi. Shoko discovered the stickers on her own. Friday nights fit perfectly with cold beer, which in turn begs for laughter. Yours hit him in waves, dissipating months of stress.

Kento wondered why he ate by himself until now.

[broken promise]

You pressed every button on the printer until it decided to work with you instead of against. “For the first week or so you will basically watch us work”, you sighed at the inkless paper. At least it was warm. “Those documents have everything there is to know about your daily activities.”

“And now…?” Nobara started, staring at the tulips in front of your bag. Her earrings, fluffy balls of white fur, made you forget about the rebellious machine. “What do I do?”

Kento stood up, you took a step back as he walked towards the printer. He pressed on the lid, searching for a gap to open it. Checking on the ink cartridges, Kento gestures at the row of computers near the wall. “Log on your account, read those documents and then come back here.”

Once the alpha was sat beside Megumi, Kento turned to you. “Do you know where they stock up?”

You guided him to the office warehouse. Turning the lights on, you looked for the right shelf. “Can you believe it?”, you whispered once he closed the door. “Third intern in a week.”

“At this rate we won’t go a day without training someone”, said Kento. He saw no reason to whisper, not when there was no one else in the room but you two. “I was barely trained. How can I teach these kids?”

“Your work is flawless”, you explained. Cartridges found, you kneeled to get the right type. “If you had made a mistake or two, they wouldn’t give you more.”

“Why haven’t you made a mistake or two? Yaga said you will train another boy next week.”

You looked up at him, a grin spread across your face. “I make mistakes all the time, I’m just usually the first to notice them.”

“Weird thing to be proud of”, Kento leaned against the shelves. You hand him the cartridges, cleaning your knees. Mirroring him, you stared at the white wall. The world was quiet inside this small room. “Thank you. For training them with me. And sorry for asking that.”

“I’ve told you when we first meet. I’m here if you need any help”, you inhaled. “We need to come back, don’t we?”

Kento nodded. None of you moved.

“What do you need to print?”, he asked. Kento didn’t care about the answer, just as you didn’t about the question. Hours teaching the same thing for the third time made his head throb. Without exchanging words, you two agreed to avoid working for a bit longer.

“I’m trying to remember”, you shrugged. “Her earrings distracted me.”

Kento glanced at you. He searched for your eyes, then went back at imagining shapes on the strange pattern in which the wall was painted. “Are you always like this? Unconcerned?”

You pouted, unsure of what to answer. “I think so”, you tilted your head. “Are you always stern? Every time I look at you, I remember to fix my posture.”

He chuckled. Back stiff, arms contracted, feet pointing forward. “I think so.”

“I would need to be tortured to act as methodic as you do”, you breathed. It sounded like a melody. Lilac high heels in front of his brow dress shoes, you took the cartridges from him. Your fingers brushed on the leather bracelet tight around his wrists. “But again, as soon as it stops hurting, I would come back to my old sloth self.”

Kento waited for you to take a step back. You didn’t. How could he expect that from you, someone that doesn’t flush or look away? Did you notice how close you are? That your hands were still touching him? Silky words, gentle eyes, soft skin. Would falling for such temptation be his fault? Kento could do it. Take the blame and the last step between you both. If he did, face against your neck in search of that inebriating scent once more, would it even be wrong?

“Are you ready to deal with those interns again?”

Awakened by your voice, a heartbeat later Kento understood it was a question. “You can go first”, he mumbled, hand rubbing his lips.

Door closed, Kento clenched his fists. He was salivating. Aching fangs pressed against his tongue, heart wild inside his chest. Taking deep breaths to calm down, Kento stopped scenting the room.

Like an overexcited teenager, Kento almost laughed at the thought. He never did that as a teenager.

Kento never loses control of himself. Efficient in everything he sets out to do, which includes suppressing what doesn’t benefit him. Instincts, scent, urges, ruts: all useless nuisances. Ignored to the core, forgotten until a break on his suppressants is needed for medical exams.

One touch and he forgot all that. One step too close, one word too soft, and his restraint was gone.

You’re a mess. You walk around without scent blockers, skip meals if you don’t feel like getting up, don’t get mad when you should. You bare your fangs in every smile. An incorrigible slothful, too lazy to lie to others or to yourself.

If he reminds you to fix your posture, you remind Kento to breath in.

Only an idiot wouldn’t forget about restraint near you. Only an idiot wouldn’t care about how you make the world’s pace seem easier to keep up with it. Who wouldn’t kill to be around someone as soothing as you? Messy desks and all that.

Hair tied; neck exposed so casually. Who else made you laugh hard enough to reveal the sea hidden inside of you? Do you speak in melodies to someone else? He wonders how many considered taking that last step without you being aware. If another stupid, tempted alpha scented you accidentally and you didn’t notice.

Kento didn’t come back to work because he had to. It was lonely there. Away from the sea and its chaos. Kento missed you.

He wondered if you missed him too.

[disobedient]

It was announced as a good thing. A popular bar booked to celebrate that all teams were evaluated with the maximum score by the board representatives—which doesn’t change a damn penny on their wages. Booked on a Saturday night, with both supervisors and manager present, it was the sort of invitation no one could say no to.

Ironing a suit with his hair still damp, Kento almost missed his old job. At least he was never forced to attend useless office parties on his day off. Then he remembered he was ironing a tailored suit he bought on a whim and decided to ignore the last thought.

Kento wasn’t the first person to get there. He saw many known faces, almost heard their calculations of when it would be polite to announce the sudden need to go home. Hoping for a way to avoid drinking with their bosses, they waited.

He sat across Suguru, who arrived early to ensure a table big enough for them all. As discussed on the group chat, they were the only ones reliable enough not to be late. Ijichi found them a bit after, Haibara and Shoko joined right before the manager gave a bad speech. Satoru sat down by his second glass of wine; and you, by the third.

“It’s because I didn’t want to come”, you gestured for a waiter nearby. Kento chuckled. You waved at someone at another table, taking off your jacket and placing it on the chair beside him. “Changed my mind when I saw everyone was here.”

“I’ve told you. Everyone complains, everyone shows up. Even Nanamin’s here”, Satoru stared at the menu. Why do those bars have the urge to be poetic when naming their products? All he wanted was to drink something sweet. “Though now he doesn’t look half as bored as before you got here.”

Kento chocked on his wine. “Don’t call me that”, he coughed.

Finishing your order, you looked at Satoru again. When his blue eyes widen you usually decide to stop paying attention to what he’s saying. Now it’s been months since you’ve last been mad at him, all thanks to Shoko’s advice. From the look on everyone’s face, you missed something interesting.

Suguru leaned forward, one arm draped over Satoru's chair as he looked at the menu. Tapping twice on it, he whispered something into Satoru's ear. It earned him a chuckle as the omega made his order.

Fingers intertwined over the menu even though they have no reason to hold it anymore. Lavender eyes admiring the cocky grin so common to Satoru’s face, a hint of green tea in the air as Suguru subtly scented him. Kento did his best not to stare at how effortless it all was. Does it feel effortless for them?

A snap made him turn to you. “New suit”, you pointed out. Holding your beer, you bumped into his shoulder. “Grey is your color, but there is something charming about black.”

As the clinking echoed, you saw his lips tugging higher than usual. A smile. Soft and subtle but one, nonetheless. What a beautiful sight, you tried not to stare.

Parallel conversations had taken up this table, much different from the silence lingering around the rest of the mezzanine floor. A beer can conceal your own smile as you observed them, glad to watch from the sidelines for a moment.

Wondering about your smile, so was Kento.

In an act of mercy, it didn’t take longer for the supervisors to call it a night and drag the manager along with them. Most tables turned empty minutes after they left. Taking advantage of the mezzanine floor just for the seven of you, your table ordered another round.

And then one more.

Arms feeling longer than you remember them to be, you finished another can. Memories hazy, it could be your birthday for all you know. You had way past your fill of cheap beers—and hours away from the last drop of water to come near your mouth.

Laughing at something Haibara did, you saw a plate and a water bottle in front of you. Ignored by a waiter nearby, you sighed and stared at what you hadn’t asked for.

“It’s for you.” You faced Kento, blurry vision making it difficult to see past his brown eyes. He took the bottle from between your hands, opened it and poured water on a glass. “Your future hungover self needs this.”

Staring at the glass he offered, warmth spread from your chest to the rest of your body. You glanced at his eyes, then at his hands once more. A second later, the feeling faded away and left you cold beside him. His gentle tone and soft gaze were nothing but a result of your mind far away from sobriety

“Don’t worry”, you slid the plate towards him. You tasted something sour on your tongue. Something worse than the beer. “I’ll order something myself. If the waiter acknowledges me, that is.”

Kento pushed the plate back to you, hand still in the air.

You sighed. “Thank you”, you took the glass from him. A sip closer from a less awful hangover, you licked your lips and tasted the bittersweetness of beer and lipstick. “How much was it? I’ll transfer to you.”

Kento wasn’t in a much better situation than you. He was better at holding his liquor, but glass after glass took a bite from his filter between mind and action. Unable to hold back, Kento growled. Not loud enough to disturb others, only for it to reach you.

What a bad excuse, Kento held his half-empty wine glass. Alcohol never made him act like that. It never will. Kento thought his self-control to be strong because he never had a reason to doubt it. Never faced someone that challenged it without even trying.

(He wished you were trying. He imagined you discovering his walls and deciding you would be the one to bring them down. Kento wanted you to be toying with him. Looking for ways to break him. For every careless act to be you saying—look at me, do something, don’t I need you?)

The truth is Kento didn’t stand a chance once he didn’t go home because it felt wrong to not see you smiling. Kento is weak when it comes to you, no excuse needed. And if he doesn’t know how to be effortless about you, then so be it. Fuck subtlety. It’s not like Kento is used to not working hard for what he wants.

Taken aback, for a moment all you did was to look at him. You could feel his discomfort. His jaw never looked so sharp; fangs bared on an expression you didn’t know his immovable muscles could create. Stern, but in a way you never imagined Kento to be.

You almost apologized. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know”, Kento didn’t look away. His tone was gentle, his gaze was soft, and your mind was far away from sobriety. “I’ll join you. Eat it while it’s still warm.”

Your fingers closed around the fork before you decided to do it. Compelled to trust him, you obeyed. Swallowing the first bite, you realized how hungry you were.

It doesn’t surprise you anymore. When you’re late to acknowledge your needs. Late to acknowledge anything at all. Oh, the things that take too long for you to understand. They always hit when you least expect them to.

Half-drunk and half-starving, your mind wandered back to a vase of lilies and gardenias. Back to the fact they were replaced before withering by blooming tulips. Back to the knowledge you’ve never received flowers.

Not until Kento. And he wasn’t apologizing.

Nightly breeze soothed your muscles and lulled your mind. You held the car door open in an attempt of being helpful, although one could say the door was holding you in place. “Text me when you get home.”

You choked a laugh when Haibara hit his forehead on the car. Shoko was already dozing off. “Only if you send me a photo of your dog.”

Red blurs stained your vision as the car moved away. You leaned on the wall, and it vibrated against your back due to the now lively bar. Your gaze landed on Kento, a couple steps from you.

You frowned. “I don’t have a dog.”

The street wasn’t silent, but his laugh still echoed through it. Rosy cheeks, unruled blonde hair, unbuttoned suit. Kento was… looser now. Not tired, stressed or clearly wishing he wasn’t there. And to think it only took a few—not so few—bottles of wine to get him like that.

Hugging the jacket folded on your hands, you moved closer and tried to steal a look into his phone. The movement made you shiver, adrenaline starting to give space to the consequences of a night of indulgence. “Your driver is taking too long.”

“Now it’s three minutes away. And yours?”

“I live nearby. I’ll walk home in three minutes, if it’s your luck day and no one cancels your ride”, your back hit the cold wall as you breathed in and out. The look on his face distracted you from the upcoming headache. “It’s a good neighborhood. The worst thing that happened around here was a drummer moving in.”

He felt a worry wrinkle developing on his forehead. “You’re drunk”, Kento stated and ignored the need to roll his eyes at you saying only tipsy. “And you will walk home. Alone. At midnight.”

“Only tipsy”, you corrected him again. Tilting your head back, you closed your eyes. “It’s a four minutes’ walk. Six, if I see a dog.”

You opened them once a warm breath tickled your face.

His nose almost brushed against yours, hands flat on the wall. His rosy cheeks were at reach of your fingertips. A lock of hair fell in front of his eyes, you thought about fixing it for him.

“Nanami-kun?” Trapped between him and the wall, you hugged your jacket tighter. “Are you feeling alright?”

His right hand left the wall and closed around your wrist. It was a careful touch, one you reserve for porcelain. Kento brought your hand closer to his face, no strength on his hold. You could’ve pulled away. It would’ve been easy.

You shivered as Kento rubbed his nose against the scent glands on your inner wrist. He inhaled deeply, as if it was worth all his concentration. As if he didn’t notice the landscape lacked a piece. Or maybe he did and couldn’t care.

“You smell like a summer dream, omega.” His brown eyes stared at something beyond your eyes. You couldn’t look away. “It’s everywhere. It’s all I can feel.”

Eyes wide open, your lungs betrayed you. “W-what?” Your heartbeat pulsed on your ears. He is not talking like himself, acting like himself. “I think you drank too much. Your car is-”

“That we both did”, his husky tone made you swallow. Kento caressed your wrist, thumb moving slowly against your sensitive skin. “Good thing we are only tipsy.”

He let go of your arm, taking a step back. Kento grabbed the dark blue collar at the base of his neck, both hands dealing with the iron clasp. Another chance for you to move away. With a tug, Kento got rid of his moorings and wrapped the collar around his knuckles.

“How could I let you alone when you smell this good?” Kento was closer now. His hands rested on the wall, right beside your shoulders, the iron clasp of his collar brushing on your arm. You’ve realized how large he is. “You wouldn’t be safe.”

Kento leaned down. His nose right on top of your glands, at the very place your neck and shoulder meet. His breath reaches you colder now, making you pinch your arm and face the fact you’re awake.

“An omega this enchanting”, Kento breathed in. “Alone, smelling of sea and alcohol, in need of protection to get home safe.”

The glands on his neck were right in front of you. Even fangs weak as yours could’ve ripped it out. You’ve done it before. It hurt you, but it bruised those stupid enough to ignore your warnings.

You tilted your head higher, giving Kento all the space he needed to nose at your throat. To have his fill of the scent you assumed not to be there. One that for him wasn’t too little.

“Who would waste that opportunity to have you closer? To stain you with their scents so you don’t go around bringing attention upon yourself?”, Kento growled, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. “I would hate for that to happen to you.”

In his arms, you finally noticed. His scent was all you could feel. It was thick, all around you. It tangled on your hair, deepened on your skin. Your clothes smelled like him. You smelled like Kento. Like Kento’s.

Breathing in, you tried to discover what it was. Pictures invaded your mind. Of a warm bath in the morning. Clean sheets on your bed after a long day. A meal made just in time. You searched for a flower, maybe a fruit that resembled him. Something you could recreate into a perfume to wear when he’s not around. Instead, all you got was a feeling.

Kento smelled like a loved home.

“It’s so delicate”, you whispered on his ear. Drunk on him, the last thing you did was think about your words. Not when his claimed all the space in your mind. Your lips brushed against the marks left by his collar, his hold on you tightened. “I need more of you.”

Kento glared at the moon, the witness to his ruination. You want more, he bit his lips so hard it turned scarlet. Kento almost gave in. Almost discovered how you tasted right then and there. You don’t think it’s too much. You don’t think I’m too much.

Kento took the jacket from your hands and placed it over your shoulders. “I’ll walk you home”, he reached out for you, palm open, hoped you couldn’t see that he was shaking. “If you let me.”

[morning proposition]

Blinding sunlight landed on your eyelids. It took long enough to understand you were awake and a bit longer to decide on leaving behind the warm haven of your bed. The room spins around and forced your body down on the mattress once more.

Salivating, you did your best to run towards the bathroom with your eyes closed. You tried to throw up, nothing came out of you although the nausea persisted in tormenting your body. Sat on the gelid floor, back shivering against the cabinet, you wondered if Nanami was feeling any better.

His eyes, his touch, his words. Nanami was all you could think of. He stole your peace of mind and left a hungry hollow in its place. One that could only be filled by him. You hoped he was doing better than you, at least less pathetic than throwing up with you on his mind.

Nanami is… You never meet someone so determined to do what needs to be done. His sharp-edged honesty never fails. Reliable in how you can always count on him to be a little bit tired, stressed and annoyed all the time. It makes it more meaningful when he smiles. Feels like you accomplished something special.

Last night, you allowed him to take you home. He held you closer than ever. His touch wasn’t odd, it wasn’t a silent walk—one filled with sudden regrets and anxiety for the premature death of whatever begun to flourish. Your jaw hurts from how much you laughed. He laughed, too, unashamed and unapologetic. It still echoes in your eardrums.

At your doorstep, playing with your hair, he refused to enter. You waited for him to kiss you, moved for Nanami to kiss you, but he didn’t. He stepped back, so you closed the front door.

Eyes burning, you couldn’t help but think you misunderstood last night. If you remember it wrong. Could a long night blend memories and imagination together? It never did before. Not after your worst nights were you unsure of what happened between the last drink and your bed.

Maybe then your interpretation of those memories isn’t correct. You don’t have much experience with this. Flirting. You dated the same person for so long. And you admit, understanding others is not what you’re best at. Maybe he meant what he said. Maybe Nanami was worried about safety and nothing more.

Which even you can’t believe to be the truth. That wasn’t worrying. Kento was about to devour you. His eyes made you feel like there was nothing else in the world beside you. He held your hand all the way home, thumb caressing your knuckles.

Which leaves you with one option: Nanami was playing with you.

He wouldn’t be the first to make you the butt of the joke. It wouldn’t be the first time he did that to you. Annoying Moments is what happened when you tried to be welcoming. You didn’t care about Nanami at the time for it to affect you, but aren’t you two friends now?

You should’ve know better. Eight years together and she laughed when you suggested bonding. The worst part was that she loved you. You could feel it. Her love was anything but subtle, a slashing feeling cutting meat and bone in search of your heart. Why would you expect him to behave as if you mattered?

Showering, you didn’t notice when tears began to roll down. Was it all a joke? Even what he said about your scent? It could be. You know awful people tend to be suddenly cruel. Maybe he went home bragging to his friends. Maybe he’ll only remember that you exist tomorrow at work when Nanami sees the omega that he could’ve fucked.

All others see when you smile is an idiot with good teeth. It wasn’t her intention but saying that only made it easier for you to break up and move on.

The empty fridge was your last straw. You undid the knot on the towel and used it to dry your dripping wet hair, decided to avoid this awful day completely. Wearing an old T-shirt and nothing more, you fall flat on your mattress. It’s still early but if you try hard enough maybe you can sleep until tomorrow morning.

Your doorbell rang the moment you started to relax.

Ignoring it was an easy call. If it’s any sort of emergency you can bend the truth a little and say you were sleeping. There was little that could happen to make this day worse, you won’t give the world a chance to show how creative it can be.

Then it rang again. And again, a couple seconds after. You waited in front of the door, fingers brushing against the handle. Groaning once the annoying high-pitched sound reached your ears, you unlocked it. And froze in place.

“Were you sleeping?” Nanami’s words didn’t make to your ears. You saw his lips moving, the sharp jaw tremble, but not a damn sound made to you. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He was here. In front of you. At your doorstep. With a bouquet in hands and a couple paper bags on the other, Nanami smelled like home. That convinced you it wasn’t a dream made to bring torment upon you. Not even the best of them would recreate it so well.

“I thought you were allergic to clothes that aren’t suits”, you said, like an idiot.

In your defense, it was the first time you ever saw Nanami without one. A brown buttoned pant hugged his waist without his usual belt and suspenders. His linen blouse was ironed and well cared for but unbuttoned and revealing part of his broad chest, unlike his perfectly aligned blue shirt. The open coat made more evident his neck lacked scent blockers, the second time you ever saw him revealing his throat.

Compared to his own standards, Nanami was basically naked.

“I have an adrenaline pen on me”, his jaw relaxed. After stressing all night, Kento could only hope for you to say something he wasn’t expecting. “Hope I won’t need to use it.”

You took a step back, allowing him to enter your home. A new wave of scent hits as he passes by you, so strong it felt as if your nose wasn’t broken anymore. It makes sense now why he’s so careful about his blockers. Nanami mentioned taking suppressants, and if that’s him on them… you can’t even imagine what it would feel like for any other omega to be around him.

The inside of your house was more of less how Kento expected it to be. Chaotic and welcoming, nothing like his sterile and practical apartment. Trinkets and decorations of all kinds filled what used to be white walls. Jewelry forgotten on the couch, letters attached to the fridge, blooming flowers and others not quite so. Everything’s warm and colorful, everything smells like you.

He took the liberty of placing the paper bags on top of your table. Kento fixed his hair as you locked the door, only then noticing what you wore—or what you weren’t. Kento holds his breath.

“You’re here.” Across from him, you leaned on a chair and ignored most hospitality rules. “Will you tell me why?”

“I missed you”, Kento said. One step closer, he gave you the white bouquet. You didn’t miss his rosy ears. “Dearly.”

(You made a mental note and swore to never forget it, one that was quickly erased from your memory when you stopped paying attention: hungover turns you into a depressive mess—do not make assumptions or choices before a nap.)

Deep in forgettable thoughts, you didn’t realize to be still staring at him. Kento couldn’t read your expression. Crushed by the sheer pressure of your gaze, he grabbed the paper bags and took their contents. Kento hoped doing something with his hands would calm his failing heart.

Watching him, you nosed at the flowers. “And missing me dearly makes you decide to fill my cabinets?”

A few different types of bread. Three flavors of juice. Skim, low-fat and whole milk. He didn’t knew what you’d rather have for breakfast. The headache medicine was the only thing Kento got without overthinking about it first.

He chuckled, a moment closer to a heart attack. “It looks like it.”

Nanami Kento, an alpha too young to already be this tired, is sweet. He doesn’t whisper or soften the truth, doesn’t wear insincere smiles or walks away when there is work to be done. Nanami Kento groans, curses the world and often acts as a spiteful retiree. He’s as sweet as his awful coffee is a waste of water.

“Nanami-kun”, you purred. Kento stopped in place, eyes instinctively staring right back at you. Such a soft sound, one that filled him with the urge to calm down. “Thank you. Take off your coat, sit down. I’ll get a vase and some plates.”

Kento did as you said, chest growing calmer as he watched you danced around the kitchen. Vase filled with water, you came back to the table and focused on undoing the bouquet. Petals brushing against paper filled his tired mind.

Satisfied with how it looked, you smiled at yourself. “To think I assumed you were playing with me.”

It took Kento a second to understand your words. He blinked and you were away, opening the cabinets in search of clean plates and glasses—too worried about not having anything beautiful for guests to hear him moving closer.

“You thought I was what?”

“You know”, you shrugged. The tinkling of mugs made you groan when they almost escaped between your fingers. “Seeing how far I would’ve let you go just for the sake of it. I was feeling like shit two minutes ago.”

You keep on catching Kento off guard with it. There’s not a moment when your heart isn’t at the tip of your tongue. You say things easily, truth spilling out of you even when it shouldn’t. If he ever reached for it, fingers exploring your mouth with the kindness it deserves, could Kento trace the veins and arteries of your heart?

Turning around, the mugs almost fell again. This time not because you tried to get more than you could hold, but due to Nanami kneeling on your kitchen floor being an astonishing sight.

“I never did anything like that before”, he stared into your eyes. “I’m ashamed for not regretting a single word I’ve said.”

“Ashamed of being shameless”, your lips tugged higher. A subtle smile, almost invisible if not by the way your eyes softened. It reminded Kento of his own smiles. “Those flowers are the accompaniment of an empty apology?”

Kento raised his hands towards you, only now the fabric he held catching your attention. You would’ve noticed he took it from a paper bag if you weren’t so interested in his rosy ears.

“They come with my confession”, Kento started. “It’s been some time since you turned into the best part of my days. My mind is tangled between your every flaw, and even those are endearing to me. I want us to bond. Give me a chance to prove I’m more than a shameless alpha. Let me court you.”

Your smile faded away. Brows furrowed, you took the fabric from him and unfolded it. A white shirt ironed carefully and smelling like Nanami Kento. You squeezed it between your fingers. Warm and soft. Real.

For the first time in his life, Kento had you speechless.

“I want to bond for life”, Kento stated. Staring at the way you held his shirt away from your body, he rushed to silence any hesitation filling your mind. You deserve the same honesty you give him. “You don’t need to answer me now. You don’t need to say what I want to hear. Just think about it.”

You brought his courting gift closer, brushing your nose against the fabric. His scent took over your lungs. “Give me a week, Nanami-kun.”

“Kento”, he smiled. “Call me Kento.”

[breath it in]

Sometimes Kento knows he’s about to hear your voice. He knows you present weekly meetings, train new interns right beside him, eat lunch together with the rest of the team. Kento can prepare himself for those moments, shield his soul to endure the longest week of his life.

Sometimes Kento doesn’t. That’s when it hits hard, a cut straight to his aching heart. Haunted by your sweet melody, surprise makes his defenses lower in hope of hearing your answer. You never say what he wants to hear.

Kento keeps on listening, nonetheless. He feared you would’ve distanced from him to think clearly. To have you whispering for him to pay attention to what the other table is gossiping about is better than your silence. Kento rather live a week of torment than not hearing your laughter.

Friday came without an answer. You asked for a week, Kento can go two more days without one. It would’ve been easier to ask you to date him. Instead of days, it would’ve been a matter of seconds to know your answer. Kento doesn’t want to date you. He wants something way deeper than that. It’s only fair for you to take your time.

“He thinks it’ll take me three days to finish this project but, and you can time it, in three hours I’ll be done with it”, you smiled, baring your fangs. This sight gave him the strength to survive the weekend. “I should feel bad about it, don’t I?”

“It’s his fault for not knowing better about his own department”, Kento hissed.

“I thought you’d say that.” You shrugged, eyes landing at the files on your desk, index playing with the yellow scarf around your neck. “It’s best for me to get started.”

You’ve been using it lately. It can be chilly inside the office, yet you never wore a scarf there before. Kento worries that knowing your scent affects him as it does makes you uncomfortable. If you wish he hadn’t mentioned it. Kento didn’t ask about it, fearing you would see it as him trying to get an early answer from you.

Work done, shift over. Kento would’ve stayed for longer if you weren’t focused on getting done with this project for a new client. Overtime here pays well, they still can’t make up for the torment of being close but not close enough.

His steps were slow, mind too heavy for his body to work faster. Kento usually walk in a hurry—even when not in one. Always late for something, time seems to be what he lacks the most. Making his way to the subway, Kento stares at the darkening sky and wonders. Time lasts longer now.

Glass half-full, if his car wasn’t at the mechanic’s Kento would’ve been an irresponsible driver by constantly getting distracted with thoughts of you. A notification interrupted his music. Waiting for the train doors to open, his left-eye twitched.

From: Walking Mess

are you still in the building?

meant to talk to you but can’t find you anywhere.

…

well, i’ll head home then. see you next week, kento :)

As the doors opened, a crowd climbed up the stairs of the subway. No one, not even the first to walk off the train, was faster than Nanami Kento. Three steps at the time and soon Kento was running through the same streets he walked spiritlessly.

Briefcase crumpling his perfectly ironed suit, Kento grabbed the access card from it and slammed it against the sensor at the reception. An alpha approached asking if he needed help. Kento heard nothing. Passing through the turnstile, Kento pressed the button for all elevators on the ground floor.

Trying to catch his breath, he calculated how long it would take for him to climb up stairs to the right floor. Cursing the tall building, the annoying whistle of the elevator made him open his eyes. Running his fingers through his hair, Kento waited.

You crashed into his chest, your phone almost slipping through your fingers. “Sorry, I was distracted.” You took a step back, entering the elevator again, and blinked once you saw Kento. “I… was looking for you.”

“You wanted to talk”, Kento licked his lips, breath still too short. It has nothing to do with his little race. He entered the elevator, each of his steps forward making you take one back. “I’m here now.”

The doors closed. He pressed the emergency button. Looking into his eyes, you hoped to see the truth through them. “You want to court me”, you started. All you saw was Kento’s utter attention to whatever you have to say. Nothing new. “Because you want for us to bond.”

“Nothing would make me happier”, Kento bit the inside of his cheeks.

“Which means you want us to bond and will court me until I agree”, your voice grew bolder. “Did I understood it correctly?”

Kento could feel the blush reaching his chest. “Yes. You did”, Kento held his briefcase tighter. The way you worded it made his inwards melt. It felt so much more intimate to know you understand his intentions. “I’m patient. I can wait.”

You looked down, brushing your fingertips against the scarf around your neck, and handed Kento your phone. He held it for you, a question dying within his throat as you started to take the scarf off.

“I’m not good at being an omega. Truly, I’m so bad at it”, with a step forward, you placed it around his neck, covering the leather collar. “Patient, you said. Good. Then I can try again if it doesn’t smell like me.”

Staring at your hands carefully smoothing the fabric, you left Kento speechless. Sunday he confessed. Monday you appeared with this scarf. You weren’t deciding. All this time, you already knew your answer.

The wait was bitter, the fruit was sweet. So sweet.

“I appreciated your gift, I hope you can appreciate mine.” Kento saw your fangs when you smiled. “It matches your tie.”

Looking at you, still not moving, Kento smiled. Truly. It was wide, impossible to ignore or mistake it for anything else. It bared his fangs, lips tugging towards his rosy ears. You imagined that’s how you look when smiling.

“It’s perfect”, Kento said. With the scarf around his neck, all he could feel was you. “You’re perfect.”

Laughing, you grabbed his horrendous tie and pulled him closer. This time, waiting for him to kiss you was never an option. Pushing him against the mirror, you demanded for it. Kento attended to your wish instantly. He didn’t knew how not to.

It was slow, so slow, a mess of tongues and giggles as you explored him thoroughly. Not letting go of his tie, you took off his glasses. Kento sighed into your mouth.

Forced to face the truth, Kento admits that there is something way better than your scent. It is the taste of your laughter on his mouth.

[dive headfirst, treasured lover]

Lately, you’ve been learning a lot about Kento. There’s always a new detail to see as long as you pay attention. It’s what you do most as it turns out you can concentrate easily when Kento is the subject. It isn’t a task you need to get done with or movie that can’t hold your focus. It feels natural to learn about him. Right.

Kento doesn’t spend time with you—he doesn’t see it as investment. Kento doesn’t put in effort to meet you where you are—he doesn’t see you as work. For someone so constantly tired, Kento’s willingness to sacrifice his time and energy for you even when you don’t think he should is still a surprise. A good one.

You didn’t ate anything burned since he offered to cook for you. Kento insisted. Although you liked his food it still left a bitter taste to think he could’ve been doing anything else on the time he put on that. It took three days of chewing on lettuce to realize Kento knew cooking for you was easier than making you agree to eat salad.

Knowing Kento’s also learning about you tastes sweet as honey.

You never thought of him as someone patient because you used to think of it as sitting quietly in place. His patience reveals itself in ways you didn’t expect. Kento’s good at waiting. Kento’s better at waiting when crafting better routines for the two of you. Routines that reduce the amount of trash on your desk, lost jewelry inside furniture and working overtime.

All so you have more time to kiss him.

He’s patient with that, too. Breathy whispers itching your throat, firm hands locked around your hips. Kissing Kento is what you do best, keeping you close is his specialty. It doesn’t feel like kissing him, more like making up for lost time.

“You make it so difficult”, you whisper, lips moving against his. Sat on his lap, you kept on doing what you do best. “Not to tease you.”

Your nest already smells like him, his book lost and forgotten between soft pillows and comfy chiffon. His scented shirt is there, too, a treasured gift. Two weeks ago, he replaced a few burned bulbs hanging on top of your nest with blinker ones. Kento is part of your nest, your safe place smells like him. That’s a soft intimacy that hits harder than any gentle words.

Kento breathed in. “I’m not doing anything.”

And he wasn’t. His mouth doesn’t go lower, his fingers never travel higher. Close yet never close enough. You don’t know how you made that far without Kento pushing you away. He usually stops you the moment you start to get ideas.

Tilting your head, you cradle his jaw and strokes the soft skin. You move his chin up, index scratching a straight line to his throat. You feel Kento swallowing a lump. “You’re red”, you lay a kiss on each of his eyelids. “Burning red. Alarmingly red.”

Angling your hips forward, your chest moving up and down against Kento as you spread kisses all through his skin, his erection grows. You can feel it beneath your panties and his clothes, hardening more with every whisper and hungry touch—blessed be the bodycon dress you bought last week.

Lips bruised by his fangs ache as Kento doesn’t stop sucking on them. He bites and licks and sighs into your mouth, the only place he’s fully dedicated to touch. He’s trying so hard no to reach for the rest of your body his hands might leave marks on your waist. You can already feel them.

“That sounded like teasing”, Kento rest his forehead on your shoulder. It was meant to be a moment to breathe in, calm down his feverish body. Being closer to your scent glands didn’t help him at all. “Don’t be mean, love. Not when I’m nice to you.”

“You’re more than nice”, you purr. He can felt it vibrating through your body. It makes Kento want to discover where it comes from. What inside you were made to soothe him so well. “Always so good to me. Treating me so well, kissing like it’ll kill you not to. You’re cute, that’s why I don’t tease.”

Kento laughs against your shoulder and for a second he sounded like a mad man. You never saw Kento so eager to let you torment him. Then it hits you why he’s acting like that, eager to satisfy your every wish.

“Fuck”, you mumble. Using his tie as leash, you lower his head towards your throat. “Does it smell good, Ken? Better than usual?”

Kento licks your glands before nodding. He kisses it like it was your mouth, tongue and teeth all over your skin. His cock throbs beneath your damp panties. You can’t help but rubbing your cunt against it, a hand stroking his hair and the other attached to his forearm.

“I wasn’t paying attention but now, uhm, Ken, I think”, you whisper, not to tease but because it’s the best you can do without stuttering. “My heat is in a few days.”

His hands move. They rest on your tights, fingers making circles on your skin. Kento barely stops licking to answer you, and he does it with a few unintelligible murmurs.

“Take a week off”, you suggest. “Alpha, stay with me.”

Kento stops altogether. His mouth moves away from your sweaty skin, fingers releasing your tights. Fixing his posture, he looks into your eyes again. You can almost hear the thunderstorm inside his mind.

“It’s okay to say no”, you clean the sweat gathering on his forehead with your knuckles. “Don’t feel like you have to do anything. I mean, you already take care of me so well.”

Kento goes back to holding your hips. He hesitates for a moment. “I’m virgin.”

It takes you a second to process. “Oh”, you blink. Trying to get off his lap, Kento holds you in place. “Ken, I didn’t…”

“I want this”, he stops. There are no remains of hesitation inside his sweet, brown eyes. Kento breathes in. “I want you.”

Running your fingers through his hair, you smile. “I want you, too. And I’m patient, you know? There’s no need to rush.”

Kento takes your hand between his, eyelids closed as he treated your skin with small kisses. He leans on your palm. “Will you take care of me, omega?”

“Better than anyone ever could”, your whisper as if telling him a secret.

“Then take care of me”, Kento whisper, bringing you closer. “And I’ll do the same.”

You’re soft on him now, softer than you’ve ever been. There is no need to rush, no need to explore like a hungry animal searching for something to consume. All you want is to feel him closer. To have Kento relaxed again, easing those stiff limbs.

Unbottoning his shirt, you look at his exposed throat. What a beautiful alpha you have. One that deserves the very best. And you will give him all you have.

“Let me spoil you.” Sliding your fingers throught his torso, you rest your weight on his lap. It makes Kento sigh. “Tell me and I’ll stop, alright?”

Kento nods. You kiss his nose and reach for your bag, forgotten somewhere behind him. To think this started with you two reading together. You hand Kento your lipstick, throwing the bag away.

“Go on”, you smile. “You know what to do.”

Slowly, as if you’d get mad if he made a mistake, Kento reapplies the lipstick on you. Holding your chin to keep your face steady, his focus is one suited best for demanding tasks. Careful as always. “Done.”

You take your time to color Kento. His cheeks, shoulders, broad chest always hidden beneath suits. His white skin is covered by you, marks that will take long to get out. Kento strokes your hair, face almost the same tone as your lipstick.

Imagining yourself washing it away for him, you smile. “Beautiful.”

Kento pokes at your middle. “You’re teasing”, he says. He does that sometimes. Sounds like he’s in love with you.

You get up from his lap, kneeling between his legs to unbotton his pants. You press your thumb against the tip of his still covered cock. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

He’s bigger than you expected, bumping lightly on your face when you free him from the underpants. You don’t look at Kento. He isn’t the one needy for your attention, his leaking cock deserves it way more. Ignoring his piercing faze, you kiss the pink tip.

Your fingers trace a vein from the base with trimmed blond pubic hair until the lipstick mark. Heavy balls discover the warmth of your mouth first. You do it like that hear Kento sigh in surprise. Catlike licks get you back to the tip, you kiss it as if it was his mouth.

“F-fuck… Love, don’t be so”, Kento cries. It doesn’t change your pace. His voice dies when you take him into your mouth, inch by inch without rushing. Kento moan softly, your pride grows bigger.

Nose almost touching his trimmed hair, your hands go back to his balls. His cock throbs inside your mouth. You move your head up and down until your neck burns and then keep going despise it when his sweet sounds reach your ears once more. You drool all over Kento.

You stare into his eyes, too curious to see Kento to keep on ignoring him.

His cum hits your throat. It flows through your lips when you take him off your mouth, running down your chin and dropping on his skin.

“Shit, oh fuck”, he breathes. Kento tilts his head back, hands trembling as he brushes them on his face. “Love, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I couldn’t-”

“You’re sorry?”, you mock. Licking your lips, you sit on his lap. Grabbing and tossing away the pillows behind him, you push Kento to lay down. “For feeling good?”

His hands go back to your waist. “Sit on my face.”

“Shameless”, you lean on his chest and place your knees between his legs. Taking your panties off, you don’t look away. “You don’t need to.”

You hold the black fabric in front of his face. Kento does nothing, brain overwhelmed to understand quickly what you’re doing, then he gets it. With him sniffing it, you see his cock hardening once more.

“Do it”, is his answer. “Teach me how to pleasure you.”

“Kiss her. Make it wet and messy”, you say. Crawling towards him, you decided not to get off your dress. That’s for him. Knees around his head, you took his shaky hands and put them on your lap. “Hold me, tap it if you want to stop.”

Kento starts slowly. He kisses your thigh, looking into your eyes. He doesn’t look away. Not at the first small lick, not as his kisses made those embarrassingly loud wet sounds. He hummed against your core, slick going down his chin, and grabbed your thighs. He did it tighter after seeing your reaction.

It wasn’t perfect. Not on rhythm that would get you crying on top of him, not the right pressure in the right place. Kento doesn’t look away, and he doesn’t stop. He changes a bit every minute, searching for a reaction that shows him he’s doing you right.

Your hips move on their own, slowly riding his face as the pleasure doesn’t stop coming. Slick floods through your cunt. His hands moved, one grabbing your waist and the other making circles a bit higher from where his mouth explore.

“Right there, Ken”, you murmur against your fingers. “Don’t change a thing. Keep it like that and, uhmm, Ken, just keep it like this.”

He does exactly what you say, his humming vibrating on you. All you can do is curse. You look back, his hard cock looking so lonely behind you, and whisper his name. It makes it twitch.

You see the lipstick marks once more. Your heart feels heavier. It’s so strange. It makes you want to sob just to have Kento consoling you. Everything feels too much, except him. You’ll always want more of him. You’ll always need more of Kento.

You never thought of Kento as a patient alpha, you wonder if he ever saw you as a greedy omega. Because it’s still not enough. You don’t think it will ever be.

To get away from his tongue you had to fight his tight grip.

“Did I do something wrong?” Kento watches you. That’s the correct way to put it. He never looks at you, he always watches. “We can stop.”

Shaking your head, you don’t waste a second to get back to his lap. You touch his ignored cock, so sensitive Kento’s worry fades away. Yours. He’s yours. You want him. As close as he can get.

The sound coming from his mouth goes straight to your clit. Kento grabs your hips, making it more difficult for you to go slow. All you want is him deeper into you. Taking care of him, being nice, was never so hard. Still, you did it. Inch by inch, no hurry.

“How can you be so warm?” Kento almost cries. Pride grows bigger once more, little would be needed to make it explode inside of you. “Love, omega, you’re… Perfect. I need you. Fuck, I need you.”

A cold tear falls on his chest. Kento tries to focus, eyes doing their best to avoid his every wish. Once he can see your face, a heartache makes him hold his breath.

“Hey. Love, look at me.” Kento sits, bringing you closer to him. His thumb cleans every tear, mouth kissing where they reached. He puts your head on his shoulder, nose on top of his glands, and hugs you tightly. It stops you from moving. “Tell me what to do. Omega, tell your alpha what you need.”

“You smell like home”, you sniff. His scent fills your lungs. More. “Ken… Ken, I can’t think. It’s too much. Too much and I need more and I can’t think.”

He can smell it in the air. Now that he has something more important than your body on his mind, it’s obvious. Your heat was close enough for him to feel it, and now it was triggered. Kento kisses your shoulders, hands stroking your head.

His incorrigible slothful omega needs to be taken care of.

Carefully, still inside you, Kento puts you on your nest and places a soft pillow beneath your head. He kisses you again and again, scenting you more until your tears stop. He moves, and when it does you moan for more.

Kento gives you all he has. He slides inside of you, once slow but only fastening the more you ask for it. Kento doesn’t thrust hard. He doesn’t know if you want this, if it would hurt, if he would last. He can barely contain himself as you purr, pussy throbbing so much it makes him shake.

“Stop squirming”, Kento groans. You obey. “Stay still. Don’t move. I’ll take care… I’ll take care of you.”

You tilt your head back, crying his name so loud Kento will never forget the way it sounds perfect coming from your mouth. He licks your scent glands, fangs closing around it as he prepares to you make you his. Bond with you, have you in a way no one could ever compare. He’ll make you his. Kento will have you for himself only.

When you look at Kento again, you see a red blur. Eyes focusing, they widen. His lips are raw, fangs cutting meat as he keeps his face right on top of yours. He doesn’t stop fucking you. He doesn’t stop giving you more even as blood drips warm on your cheeks.

I want more, you thought. I think I love him.

“You can do it”, you show him your throat. “Bond with me, Ken.”

“No”, he whispers. You don’t think he can do much more than that. “Not now. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Alpha”, you moan. “Make me yours. Please.”

It’s sharp and cold.

You shake violently—the strongest orgasm you ever had. So good it’s painful, so good it makes you cry and thinking nothing but his name, his touch, his scent. Muscles tight, no air comes to your lungs. You won’t made it out alive.

Pain and pleasure fill your mind. Everything makes sense. Everything feels right in place. Every heartbreak led you to him. Every step on the way brought you closer to Kento. Your body accepts the bond, his love for you consuming you wholly.

You cry. It hurts and burns, blood on your cheeks and neck. Coming again, his name is all you can say. He laps at the blood and the pleasure doesn’t stop. It grows bigger, now not taking but giving. You stop moving.

His vision goes white, and so does your womb. Knot keeping you nice and still, a mess of cries and moans enchanting him. Kento looks at the bond mark, at your eyes full of satisfaction, and a feeling so good he can’t even name takes over him.

Kento laughs. You do it, too, he tastes it in his mouth.

Now, he knows he was right. All those years ago, arguing with his dad and pretending to agree because he had no other choice. Kento was right. “I love you”, Kento whispers against your lips. Words can’t lose meaning, so he says it again.

There is no better taste than his love on your mouth.

I REALLY REALLY REALLY SHOULD'VE BEEN DOING MY ARCHON QUEST. SORRY RAIDEN I'M BACK TO YOU NOW.

+ i'll grant a wish for anyone who recognizes who was the inspiration for nanami's "basically naked" outfit.

tagging ; @aviesnapkindoodles @starry-eyed--dreamer @brooke-gvf @missthatgirl @romantisized @catcactusoww @toadtoru @stxxrzz @motthe

134 notes · View notes

l-starsz · 2 days ago

Note

Your walking in the forest and stumble upon a fairy with the most persuading voice she hands you a paper with this https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT2uvMmqR/ written on it she said she'd give you fairy dust if you write a fic about this what do you do

Take the paper and say yes (correct answer)

Say no and flick her into the abyss (wrong answer and she'll curse you) 🧚🏾‍♀️

a/n: not looking to get cursed today, i want my fairy dust!! funnily enough the day this request was sent i doodled stuff in my notebook and labelled it ‘fairy dust’?? anywayyy this was so good to write i’m actually obsessed with that video

our hands were all over eachother. messily kissing and not even bothering to pull away for air. we were desperate for eachother. it’d been a while since i’d seen billie, since she’d been on tour and i couldn’t go with her because i had things i needed to do, but i was finally able to fly out to her. and that’s what led to this. the first day we’d seen eachother in around a month and a half.

she had to go on stage in around 20 minutes, but in the moment, this felt more important. i was leaning back against the wall with billies body pressed up against mine. slight whimpers left my mouth when her kisses trailed down to my neck.

“need you so bad. please baby..” i whispered out.

“i’ve got you pretty girl.” she smiled, kissing my lips once more before letting her hands grab at my sweats.

she didn’t pull them down, just slid her hand underneath them, and my underwear, immediately finding my clit. she ran her fingers over it slightly, and then made her way to where i was soaked. i heard her gasp slightly, not expecting me to be this wet. i let out a slight whine, burying my face in her neck and moving my hands to her shoulders.

“please bil.. i need you.” i mumbled, getting slightly frustrated.

“alright angel, but we have to be quiet, just for a little bit, okay?” she spoke in a tone that made me even more whiny.

i nodded as quick as i could, pushing my hips a tiny bit closer to her before i felt her fingers glide back up to my clit. i immediately let out a moan, partially from her words, but also because of how sensitive i’d become.

“what did i say angel?” i heard her speak as she stopped her movements (not that she was doing much anyway, but i was just so sensitive that i could barely handle the slightest touch).

i let out a breathy moan, moving my hips to try to get to to keep going. but she wouldn’t. i knew what she wanted.

“to.. fuck- to be quiet.”

“that’s right, baby. don’t want to get caught.” she spoke lowly, before continuing what she was doing.

i tried so hard to hold back my noises, knowing that she wouldn’t carry on if i didn’t listen to her. it was so difficult, though. it had been too long without her, or her touch. it wasn’t long at all before her middle and ring fingers were pushing inside me. it definitely wasn’t difficult for her to get them inside me, considering how wet i was.

i immediately tightened around them. my back arched at how good it felt, and my breath hitched. she started off slow, making sure she found the right spot to have me almost sobbing for her, before she sped up. the only noises heard in the room was the wet sound coming from my pussy, and my breathy moans. quiet whispers were exchanged between kisses every so often, and i was doing everything i could to keep quiet.

“you’ve got this, pretty. you’re doing so well. being such a good girl for me.” her voice was soft in my ear.

my knees buckled, so billies free hand found my waist, holding me close so that i wouldn’t fall. her body was still pressed up against mine as she left wet kisses down my neck. the feeling of her all over me sent me to the edge of my orgasm, i wasn’t quite there yet, but i definitely wasn’t far. and of course, billie could tell. she knew me too well. her thumb found my clit, and her fingers continued moving at a steady pace inside me.

her voice in my ear was enough to push me over the edge.

“you look so perfect like this. let go for me pretty girl, i’ve got you.”

i almost collapsed to the floor, but billies body against mine kept me up, whilst her hand moved to cover my mouth. i let out loud moans, and obviously her hand wasn’t enough to keep my quiet, so she shifted again. i was finishing over her hand, whilst her other hand moved back to my waist to keep me standing, and her lips pressed against mine to make sure i stayed quiet.

my eyes were squeezed shut as tight as possible, and my body was limp against billies, knowing that if she let go i’d fall right to the floor because of how weak my legs were. i let out small whines into her mouth as she continued working me through my orgasm, and my hips were bucking against her.

“there you go, being so good cumming for me.”

“don’t stop billie.. please don’t stop.” my voice was breathy.

“i’m not stopping, love. going to take good care of you, i promise.”

when i finally came down, my head ended up buried in billies neck whilst i let out heavy breaths and slight breathy moans from the feeling of her fingers still inside me. she was whispering praises into my ear as i had my arms draped over her shoulders, slightly gripping onto her shirt still.

“i missed you so much, baby.” she spoke quietly.

“i missed you more, my love.” i whispered, allowing her to pick me up and take me into the bathroom.

she set me on the counter as she cleaned me up, taking it slow even though we both know she only had a few minutes before she had to be on stage. when i was cleaned and dressed again, and we were both presentable, we headed towards the stage, acting as if nothing had happened minutes before.

i watched from backstage as billie performed. she looked so perfect on stage, she looked so perfect all the time. after a little bit, she was getting ready to sing the backing vocals for ‘when the party’s over’, and she was telling the crowd they needed to be quiet. and that was when i heard it.

“we have to be quiet, just for a little bit, okay?”

at first i wondered why it sounded familiar, but then i realised. the exact same words she’d said to me not long before. she definitely did that on purpose.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish fic #fanfic #fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader #wlw #wlw post #wlw smut #wlw blog #billie eilish smut

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redsrooftopprincess · 2 days ago

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Memory

RaphaelxReader

Warnings: Amnesia, Angst

(this is so tropey and self indulgent that I was almost too embarrassed to post it, thank you @the-cauldron-witch for giving me the stones. Apologies in advance. 😅)

"What are you to me?"

You freeze, your pen stopping mid-letter. For the last week you'd been trying to figure out how to answer if he asked, and you were still at a loss.

Don't think for him, Donnie'd said, the memories are there, he just has to form the connections. They'll be stronger, and this will go faster, if you let him do that on his own.

He knows he shouldn't be asking, but every time he looks at you he feels like he's missing something important, and the way you look at him sometimes... he can't bear it.

"We should, um," you clear your throat, looking very intentionally at the paper in front of you, "we should really focus on this analysis. The more data we can feed Donnie, the sooner he can figure out of there'll be any serious lasting consequences to this."

"I'm missing three years of my life, I'd say that's pretty serious," he quips, humorlessly. You still haven't looked up at him. Jaw tight, measured breaths the only thing keeping your hand steady. You'd been keeping it together for the last two weeks, you couldn't break now. Least of all in front of him.

Six hours trapped in a reinforced refrigeration truck. He only survived because of what little body heat you could offer, but you'd both nearly died. You woke a few days later, in the infirmary, your hands still raw and recovering from frostbite, but Raphael... didn't.

For fifteen days, no one knew if he was going to survive. You didn't sleep. You couldn't eat. You wouldn't leave his side. The number of arguments you and Donatello had about you resting were in the double digits. He might lose his brother, he wasn't going to lose his best friend, too. The only way you agreed was by dragging the couch beside the cot Raphael was laying in.

When he awoke he couldn't remember much of anything. Slowly, over the course of the next week, memories drifted back like smoke. He remembered his father, his brothers, April, his best friend, Casey, that dumb ass, Vern, but not you. The last three years are still a blur and none of it makes any sense.

He looks at you like a familiar face at the grocery store. Like something is digging at the back of his mind, something important, but he can't quite place you. He looks at you with curiosity, even attraction at times, but the love that you built and fought for, through death and distance, is gone.

You inhale, before the pen begins to move again in your hand. He reaches up and stops it.

"Y/N..." The familiar feeling of his hand around yours, his thumb gently brushing the hollow of your wrist, makes your chest ache and your eyes fall closed.

Tears glitter at the seam of your eyelashes, as the words slip free unbidden, barely louder than a whisper, "I miss you..."

His hand stills, there it is again. That feeling, understanding just outside his reach, he's pulled to you and he doesn't know why. Everything you do affects him, and right now, you're crying, and he would tear the world apart to see you smile again.

You inhale sharply, pushing yourself to your feet and pulling your hand from his, leaving the pen on the table, "I need to go."

"Y/N, wait," he begs, quickly, standing, "please, I-"

All of your faculties are being used to keep you in one piece. You don't even have the ability to attempt any kind of excuse. "I'll be back tomorrow night. We can finish the analysis then." You shove your laptop into your bag and zip it closed, slinging it over your shoulder, before you rush out of the lair to echoes of him begging you to stay.

You barely make it home before you collapse by the couch and weep. Three years. Three years just gone.

You pull the deep red blanket he made you last winter off the couch and wrap yourself in it, in him, in his scent, because it's the only thing of his you can wrap around you.

You let yourself cry. Mourn. Since he woke up, you've been shoving everything down and away.

This is not about you, you'd scolded yourself.

You'd reminded yourself it must be worse for him. He's probably terrified, losing so much time must be scary as hell. And you'd kept it together. Every time he looked at you with that question in his eyes. Every time he said "hey" and kept walking. Every time he touched you... and let go.

But you've reached your breaking point

The feeling of his hand on your wrist was so familiar, and you were pulled back into lazy evenings in bed, the sunset painting your skin, as the two of you found any excuse not to get up for work. Comfortable, safe, warm. Things you haven't felt since before all of this started. And it was all too much.

Violent sobs rip through your body, as your heart rages in your chest. It's not fair. You'd already been through so much. Fought so hard. And, for him... none of it happened. The bone-deep love and connection that had become so vital to both of you, was ripped away, and you were the only one left bleeding.

You don't notice the soft landing beside the window.

He just stares at you for a moment. He's overcome with the need to catch you up, hold you to him, and do whatever he has to do to fix it.

"It's important, isn't it," he says finally, quietly, "what I can't remember."

You gasp and stand up, clumsily, hands flying to your eyes and wiping pointlessly at tears as you turn away, "You shouldn't be here."

"See, I'm not so sure about that." He steps forward slowly, "because..." His eyes fall on a carved wooden rose, and he pauses. A craftsman can always recognize their work. His eyes begin to scan the dimly lit room around him.

No photographs, but all around him are little things made by his own hands, his favorite books and movies, this place doesn't just feel familiar. It feels like home. His eyes return to yours as he continues his approach.

You fall back against the wall as he advances, "Does Donnie know your here? You really shouldn't be out running around the city by yourself. You're still recovering, it's not... safe." Your breath hitches as your back hits drywall.

He takes your hand gently, holding it just like before, caressing the inside of your wrist. Your jaw clenches, and your eyes sting. As he invades your personal space, your body reacts on instinct, head tilting up, hand against his chest, and his responds, gripping your waist and pulling you into him, breathing in deeply a scent just on the edge of his memory.

"That's what I'm missing, isn't it," he asks softly, tears darkening the fabric around his eyes, "that's what this feeling is... love."

Your heart twists, and you can't breathe. You're trembling with loss and grief and you don't want him to stop.

"I love you," he says, almost in wonder, holding your gaze.

It's like a bullet to the chest and all the air rushes out of you. Tears stream freely from your eyes and you draw a shuddering breath. "You don't even know me," you say, and you swear you don't mean for it to come out as bitter as it does.

He flinches, stepping back, but not releasing your hand. The shame and guilt are instantaneous. None of this is his fault. You look down and away, unable to meet his amber eyes, "I- I'm sorry," you manage, "I-"

"You're wrong."

You look up through tears as he steps forward again, pulling you closer. A hand comes up and cups your cheek as the one around your waist tightens, and he looks down at you with an intensity you haven't seen in weeks.

"I may not know your face, or remember... anything about you, but..." His eyes close and his hand slides into your hair as he dips his head and touches his forehead to yours, "I remember... this," he continues breathlessly, gripping your hair gently, "I remember this feeling... Your skin... against mine. Your scent..."

It's there. He can feel it. Just beyond his reach. He's been grasping blindly. Needing you and not knowing why, needing to feel you under his hands, against him.

The hand at your waist slides to your lower back, pulling you closer. "Help me," he pleads, eyes shut tight, all focus trained on you, voice thick with hope and desperation, "please... help me remember."

Donatello's warnings burn to ash within your memory as his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss.

It's clumsy at first. Demanding. Desperate. Like a dance he doesn't quite remember the steps to. He holds too tightly, moves too stiffly, but you open to him anyway, and a warm wave of sunlight flows into him.

He was so cold. He's still so cold. He can't remember the truck but he can remember the cold. Seeping into him slowly. As time dragged on and his body heat waned he'd grown so tired so quickly. He could still feel it. Frost on his edges. He's tried everything. Heated blankets, hot showers, gallons of tea. He's been trying since he woke up, he just can't seem to get warm.

But where his skin touches yours, it's like holding the sun.

Your heat floods into him like warm, golden light. Like the dawn. Pouring into the deepest, coldest parts, and filling him completely with that feeling. Love. And there you are, beneath the melt. As vital and familiar as his own heartbeat.

His kiss softens, his hold becomes more sure, familiar. It takes you a moment, but you realize, between kisses, he's whispering, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." He holds you the way he always has, and he kisses you the way he always has, and soon your crying too hard to kiss him back.

He holds you tight against him, pressing you against his chest, kissing your hair, apologizing over and over as if any of this is his fault. You cling to him desperately, afraid that if you let go it won't be real, that he'll forget you again. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, afraid that you'll be wrong, and you'll look up into his, and you'll find only questions.

His hold tightens and his eyes burn. He's angry. This is unacceptable. Unfair. He got played, and he was supposed to die in that truck. What the Oroku fuckers didn't count on, what they never count on, is you. You'd pressed yourself against him, sharing what little warmth you could. By the time the others found you, both of you were unconscious and hypothermic, but still alive, Raphael's large body wrapped tightly around yours. You'd kept his heart beating. Just like always.

He pulls back and attempts to raise your chin to meet his eyes. You resist. He can smell your fear, feel the pounding of your heart under his fingertips.

He rests his head against the side of yours and speaks your name softly, in the same voice that has pulled you peacefully from sleep a thousand times. Another sob escapes you and you curl into him tightly, before a few moments pass and you unfurl, your eyes raising to meet his.

The weight of his gaze settles on you and you never thought you could be grateful to see such depths of pain within him, but within the pain was... everything else. From the depths of despair to the heights of ecstasy, every moment of the last three years was a storm inside his eyes.

You can see the naked rage, swirling in the tempest, and it mirrors your own. Those responsible would be dealt with, later. Now, you reach back behind him, and he dips his head to make it easier for you to remove his mask. You toss it aside, and he presses his forehead to yours. You rest your hands on either side of his face, tracing the familiar scars, and you can feel his shuddering exhale.

"I love you."

"I'm sorry."

"Raphael-"

"I didn't mean to-" His breath catches on a sob, and you pull him tighter against you. Burying his head in your shoulder, he wraps his arms around your waist and breathes deep. If scent is the strongest sense tied to memory, he would bury himself in you. He would never forget again.

....

I know this isn't how amnesia works, okay??? I KNOW the plot here is swiss cheese!!! but it got stuck in my head and now you have to deal with it too, so there.

...

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins @sacred-holy-light @celeste-clearwater-06 @pheradream-15

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt raphael #bayverse raphael #bayverse tmnt #raphael x reader #bayverse raphael x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #raph x reader

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nightbutterfly09 · 24 hours ago

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I saw this on my page, and I was like, I must deliver. This is such a good ideaaa 😭

(Im working on three different fanfics, save me TvT)

Thank you @keyhai 🩷

// I also paid attention to your comment under the post //

How cute~

When Sae arrived at his new home at thirteen the new school, the dorm building seemed huge. Heck, the whole of Spain seemed monumental compared to Kanagawa. The prefecture he knew so well. He couldn't exactly comprehend how he’d be studying, living and practicing here.

It was hard at first. Getting to know his age group, his new teammates who were all a little older than him. Sometimes he was close to giving up. Occasionally his Spanish teacher had to consol the little boy. That old man was his only hope. The only parent-figure he could keep in touch with.

The only person who could understand him. Without that stupid language barrier he learned to hate.

All the bullying he received as a child. Just because he is younger and japanese. He learned how cruel the world is.

Everything changed when he saw a taller girl rush across the hallway. A football and a sports bag in hand. Sae scoffed. “She must be late for practice… slacker” or so he thought.

A sense of familiarity hit him. Clueless why. He definitely hasn't seen you in school, nor at the dorms. What he did know, was that she seemed to be much older.

A week later the Re Al football teams got together to say bye to a retiring coach. Sae has learned that it's a custom to show up to the retirement party for everyone who plays in the club regardless of age, time spent there, or whether or not they knew the person in question.

For Sae Coach Emiliano said nothing. He didn't know him, nor did he hear about the old man. Ever. Each group dressed in their respective jerseys gathered around the man. Sae didn't understand how could people adore this Emiliano, if he has never ever heard his name before. Surely if he was an important figure he’d know.

“Do you want some cookies?” A girl looked down at him. Not much taller, just, maybe a tiny bit. Fine, who is he kidding. She was towering over him.

He saw how you looked at him. It was a gentle gaze. Not one he is used to. He had no idea what you just said. He understood that you asked him if he wanted something. It was above him to know the word cookie.

“Yo! Y/N El idiota no tiene idea de lo que estás diciendo! El es japones.” //Yo! Y/N The idiot has no idea what you're saying! He's Japanese.// A guy around your age shouted. He didn't need to understand everything to hear the mean tone in between. He was totally looking down on him. Like everyone. “Oh, sorry, then do you know english?” You smiled.

You smiled.

Smile?

That guy just told you how he is an idiot and all that. But instead of the usual racism and downgrading, you smiled. At him.

He felt his heart skip a beat. His eyes met yours and they lingered for a while. He saw that you were getting nervous by just staring at each other so he quickly had to say something. “Not the best.. but I know more.”

“That's wonderful! Don't listen to Rodrigo, he doesn't know what he’s talking about. One time, he slammed the ball into the coach’s head- “ you laughed. “He got punished for 3 weeks straight.”

Your laughter struck a chord within his heart. What was this feeling? He didn't mind being with you even if you were speaking way too fast. He did understand what you found funny though.

Maybe there is a hint of light within the world.

~~~~~~~~

Days passed. You two got closer. Started meeting more due to your training regimen changing. The girls team played at the same time with his team, just across from them.

With his translator in tow they finally arrived to the court. It was time for practice to start.

His eyes occasionally drifted to the other team. You were captivating. You mainly passed the ball around. You also looked to be a midfielder.

He hates that position. He wanted to be a striker all along. Hell, even his promise with Rin is about being a striker, but the coach thought this would suit him best. “I’ll show him, I can be a stiker if I want to, I’ll hog all the goals” or so he thought.

But as he watched you play maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe passing it around, knowing who is in the best position is maybe more attractive than taking all the glory.

Plus, a striker has to be loved by all. Which he isn't. Or so he's told. “Sae! Coach wants you guys to watch the girls play. They have a training match in 20 minutes!” His translator informed. He nodded and went to the other court. Not that he wasn't already looking at you.

Throughout the whole match you were captivating. Not only for him but many of his teammates found themselves focusing on you.

That was how he fell in love- With the midfielder position. naturally..

~~~~~~

Days of knowing each other became weeks. Later became months. Even years. Years of staying in contact.

Just like how silent stares, occasional greetings, shared laughs, smiles, nods at each other made your relationship somewhat questionable.

These stolen moments eventually became stolen kisses. They lasted for a moment in public, but when you started going on dates, sharing food and all of the above it all became clear to Sae.

He fell in love. With his senior.

“This is a joke Y/N” he sighed tiredly as you tried feeding him like a little boy. “Come on! Don't be a party pooper, come, say aah~”

“I am not a child dumbass!” he scoffed and grabbed the fork. “Eat” as he nudged it towards you.

“Oh come on, you are shorter! You can't feed me!!” What logic even is that… not that it mattered. When you were with each other, making sense wasn't always important. Or so he learned.

“Just was. You live in the past mi vida” he flirted. True, as the years passed he became more attractive. You started looking at him differently. Eventually he was more than a younger student. Someone you should help and support. He became someone you could find solace in. “I do not-” but as you opened your mouth the cake found its way to it.

It was yummy. The fruits and the cream balanced each other so well. Wasn't too sweet, but not too sour.

He saw how much you liked it and couldn't help but also take a bite. From the same fork. /Indirect kiss- your brain interrupted the moment/

“You know, I used to hate Spain. The language, the city, the people, even soccer for a while.. but maybe it's not so bad afterall.” “Think of it this way, if you weren't here, you’d never know me” you grinned.

“True, although… sometimes I think that’d be less troublesome” “Stop being mean!!!” You whined.

He chuckled. “Come on, eat the rest of this” he said as he pushed the plate closer to you. “Only if I can feed you!” “No” “Come on! Just one bite!!” You squint your eyes in a pout.

“Fine, but only because I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.” he blushed and sighed.

He bit down the fork you placed to his mouth and slowly leaned back. “How cute~” he blushed. But it's whatever. Your giggle meant more to him than stupid cake. “I am not 13 anymore Y/N.” He retorted and looked down at the cake.

You took a bite from the cookie on the side. Galleta. It was pretty funny to him. You probably didn't ponder about this. Nor did you remember your first question towards him. But to him, that sentence was life changing.

…Well not the cookies, but you get the point.

Coming to Spain was worth it. The hours of studying was worth it. Interacting with others was worth it. Saying bye to his childish self, was worth it.

That's how Spanish lessons became important. How feelings crept up within him. How he learned about others. And about himself. How he fell more in love with soccer. Maybe at the end of the day, the language barrier has one tiny advantage. Maybe being “special” or out of place within a country isn't always so terrible.

The world may have changed at 13. But change, isn't always a synonym for bad.

#The world may have changed at 13. But change #isn't always a synonym for bad.#f!reader #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk #bllk itoshi sae #bllk x reader #blue lock fanfiction #fanfic #itoshi sae #sae itoshi x reader

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onlyforyoukook · 12 hours ago

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Bound in gold

paring: mingi x fem¡reader

synopsis: y/n, born into a corrupt family’s wealth, grows up unaware of the truth. When her family loses everything, they push her to marry Mingi for financial gain. But knowing the truth now, y/n refuses and chooses to move away, but something brings her back.

wc: 4.5k

genre: one shot, yandere, angst, infidelity.

You had everything. Wealth, power, a life others could only dream of. But it was never your dream. it was theirs.

Born into a family of privilege, you grew up surrounded by luxury. Grand mansions, diamond jewelry, private jets nothing was out of reach. People spoke your father’s name with admiration, but behind closed doors, they whispered. You never knew why.

And then, there was Mingi.

He had always been there, like a constant in your life. You were both young when you met, two children playing in golden halls. Mingi was from a family just as rich as yours, but there was always something different about him. He never let the wealth define him the way others did.

More than that, he was gentle.

Gentler than your father’s firm grip on your shoulder.

Gentler than your mother’s sharp tongue when she reminded you who you were supposed to be. Mingi was the only one who ever made you feel like just you.

But there was a truth you didn’t know.

Mingi’s family used to be close with yours. Until your parents cut them off. Betrayed them in business, leaving them to struggle while yours thrived. His family wanted revenge, but when the time came, and they saw you a sweet, clueless little girl they couldn’t do it. Instead, they sent Mingi to be your friend. Not to hurt you. Not to use you.

But to save you.

And for years, he tried.

The night everything fell apart, you were in your father’s study, a place you had never truly belonged. Papers were scattered across the desk, numbers flashing on a laptop screen. The air was thick with tension.

“We lost everything,” your father said. His voice, always strong, now wavered. “Everything. We need to fix this.”

Your mother sat beside him, her nails digging into her silk dress. “There’s only one solution.”

Then they looked at you.

You already knew.

“You want me to marry Mingi.” Your voice was hollow.

Your mother straightened. “It’s not just about you. It’s about all of us. His family is wealthy more than we ever were. If you marry him, we can rebuild.”

You scoffed. “You think I can just use him like that?”

“Of course, you can.” Your father’s expression hardened. “You grew up learning how to survive, didn’t you? You think love is more important than survival?”

Love.

Did you love Mingi?

You weren’t sure. There was something there, something lingering in every glance, in every touch. But this wasn’t about love. This was about desperation.

And you refused to be part of it.

Mingi found you later that night, standing on the balcony of your family’s estate. The city stretched below, lights flickering like distant stars. You didn’t turn when he stepped beside you.

“You heard, didn’t you?” you asked.

He sighed. “Yeah.”

Silence.

Then, softer, “What are you going to do?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the railing. “I’m leaving.”

Mingi tensed beside you. “Leaving?”

You turned to face him. “I can’t be part of this anymore. My whole life—everything I had—it wasn’t real. It was built on lies, and I let myself believe it because it was easier that way. But I know the truth now, and I can’t stay here.”

He searched your face. “And what about me?”

Your breath hitched.

“Mingi…”

“Don’t do this,” he murmured. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I do,” you said, voice breaking. “Because if I stay, I’ll never know who I am without them.”

Mingi’s jaw clenched. He had always known this moment would come, but knowing didn’t make it easier.

Finally, he exhaled, stepping closer. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, careful. Gentle.

“I would’ve married you, you know.”

Your chest ached. “I know.”

And for a moment, you let yourself imagine it. A world where you were free, but not alone. A world where you could love Mingi without the weight of expectation. But that world didn’t exist.

Not yet.

So you stepped back.

“I have to go.”

Mingi didn’t stop you.

Because even after everything, he was always gentle with you.

Years had passed since you left.

You spent them running—new cities, new names, new lives that never truly felt like yours. But no matter how far you went, the past followed. Shadows lingered in alleyways, whispers slipped through cracked doors, and faceless figures watched from the dark.

You had once been untouchable. Now, you were prey.

It was time to stop running.

So you came back.

⸻

The city was the same. Glass towers stretched into the sky, and the streets buzzed with people who never noticed you slipping back into their world. But there was one thing different.

Mingi.

He wasn’t yours anymore.

You found out from a passing conversation, the words hitting you like a punch to the stomach.

“He’s engaged?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your informant, a former housekeeper who always had a soft spot for you nodded. “To Leeyeon. She’s from a good family, well-mannered, beautiful. He loves her.” A pause. “But not like he loved you.”

Your heart clenched. “Does he know I’m back?”

“I don’t think so.”

Good. You weren’t ready.

Not yet.

Mingi was at a gala when he saw you again.

A glimpse. That’s all it was at first.

A figure in the crowd, a face he used to know, a ghost from his past. His breath hitched, his body stiffening as he followed the familiar curve of your jaw, the way your eyes scanned the room like you weren’t sure if you belonged here anymore.

Then your eyes met.

And just like that, time unraveled.

“Y/n.”

The name left his lips before he could stop it, his voice drowning in the music and chatter. His fiancée, Leeyeon, stood beside him, her hand resting on his arm, but he barely noticed.

You took a step back.

Then another.

And then you were gone.

Days passed before he saw you again.

He found you where he always knew you’d be—standing on the balcony of your family’s old estate, staring at the city like it held the answers you’d spent years searching for.

“You came back.” His voice was rough, uneven.

You didn’t turn around. “I had to.”

He stepped closer, hesitating. “Why now?”

You exhaled. “They were following me.”

Mingi stilled.

“They never forgot,” you continued. “The people my family ruined, the ones left in the dark while we lived in luxury. They waited. And when I ran, they chased.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“You should’ve told me.”

Your hands curled into fists. And what would you have done, Mingi? Fixed it? You’re engaged. You have a life. You don’t owe me anything anymore.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”

You finally turned, meeting his gaze. “It has to be.”

Leeyeon was pregnant.

Mingi found out weeks later, the news delivered over dinner.

“I’m pregnant,” she had whispered, her hand resting on her stomach.

He had frozen, the weight of the moment sinking into his bones.

This was good. This was supposed to be good.

But all he could think about was the way he still woke up calling your name.

You tried to stay away.

Mingi tried to move forward.

Neither of you succeeded.

Fate was cruel, throwing you together in fleeting moments—passing glances, lingering touches, unsaid words that screamed between you. Every time you got close, something pulled you apart.

Until the truth finally shattered.

Leeyeon had cheated on him.

And not just with anyone.

With San.

His best friend.

The betrayal burned deep, but nothing hurt more than the final blow—

The baby wasn’t his.

Mingi found you that night.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t have to.

Because when he looked at you, his walls finally crumbled.

And when you looked at him, you saw home.

This time, when you stepped closer, nothing pulled you apart.

This time, when you reached for the lock—

It clicked into place.

Mingi still didn’t know.

He still didn’t know that the baby wasn’t his.

Leeyeon’s betrayal remained a secret, buried beneath soft kisses and whispered reassurances. She clung to him, played the part of the perfect fiancée, the devoted mother-to-be.

And Mingi?

He stayed.

For the baby.

That’s what he told himself.

That’s what he told everyone.

But at night, when the city was asleep—when the world was quiet and he was finally alone with his thoughts—he found himself somewhere else.

With you.

The first time it happened, you told yourself it was a mistake.

You weren’t sure how you ended up in his car that night, parked outside your apartment, the silence between you thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

“Mingi,” you had whispered, shaking your head. “This is wrong.”

But his lips found yours before you could stop him.

And just like that, you were his again.

It became a pattern.

Late nights. Stolen moments.

He’d come to you after Leeyeon fell asleep, slipping away with nothing but a quiet excuse and a guilty heart. And when he reached you, when his hands found your body and his lips traced the skin he used to know so well—he felt alive.

For the first time in years, he felt alive.

“You’re not staying,” you murmured one night, your fingers tracing the sweat-slicked skin of his back.

Mingi exhaled sharply, still catching his breath. “You know I can’t.”

You rolled onto your side, watching him. “Why?”

His jaw tightened. “You know why.”

“Because of the baby.”

Silence.

Then—

“You think I want this?” He turned to you, his voice lower now, rough. “You think I want to go back to her after this? After you?”

“Then don’t.”

His fingers curled into the sheets. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is.” You sat up, the sheets slipping from your body. “You don’t love her, Mingi. And I don’t know if you ever really did.”

Mingi didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Because deep down, he knew you were right.

Leeyeon noticed the shift.

The late nights. The distant stares. The way Mingi held her but never really touched her anymore.

She knew.

And yet, she didn’t say a word.

Because what would she even say?

She had her own secret, after all.

Mingi woke up in cold sweats sometimes, your name slipping from his lips like a prayer.

Leeyeon heard it every time.

And every time, she lay beside him, staring at the ceiling, hand resting over the baby growing in her stomach—

The baby that wasn’t his.

And she smiled.

For weeks, Mingi kept coming back to you.

It was never enough.

He’d leave Leeyeon’s bed, slip into yours, and swear to himself that it would be the last time. But then the next night came, and so did he knocking at your door, pressing you against the wall, whispering your name like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

And every time, you let him in.

Leeyeon never said a word.

She never questioned the late nights, the excuses, the way Mingi’s body was there but his mind was always somewhere else.

With you.

It should’ve made him uneasy. Should’ve made him suspicious.

But he was too caught up in you to notice.

Too caught up in the way you tasted, the way your body melted into his, the way he could lose himself in you and pretend, for just a little while—that he wasn’t living a lie.

Until the truth finally slapped him in the face.

He hadn’t meant to check her phone.

It was instinct, really—just a glance at the screen when it lit up beside her while she was in the shower.

And that’s when he saw it.

A text from San.

“Are you keeping the baby?”

Mingi froze.

The words blurred together, his brain struggling to piece them together in a way that made sense.

Are you keeping the baby?

His stomach twisted.

His mouth went dry.

And then—

It clicked.

The hesitation.

The secrecy.

The way she never let him go to her doctor’s appointments. The way she never mentioned Y/n, never confronted him about the late nights, never asked where he’d been.

Because she didn’t care.

Because she had her own guilt weighing her down.

Because the baby—

Wasn’t his.

The next time he saw you, he wasn’t gentle.

He didn’t knock. Didn’t ask.

He just showed up at your door, grabbed you, kissed you so hard you stumbled back.

“Mingi—” you tried, but he didn’t let you finish.

“You,” he rasped, hands gripping your waist like you might disappear again. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Your breath hitched. “What happened?”

Mingi swallowed. “Leeyeon… she—” His voice broke. “The baby isn’t mine.”

Silence.

Then you exhaled. “You know.”

His eyes snapped to yours. “You knew?”

“I suspected,” you admitted softly. “But it wasn’t my place.”

Mingi closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I was so fucking stupid.”

You reached for him, and this time, he let you.

“I stayed,” he whispered, voice thick with something raw. “I stayed for a baby that isn’t even mine.”

“You wanted to do the right thing.”

He laughed, but it was hollow. “And what about now? What’s the right thing now?”

Your fingers traced his jaw, tilting his face toward yours.

“This,” you murmured. “This is the right thing.”

And this time, when he kissed you—

He didn’t feel guilty at all.

Mingi didn’t go back to Leeyeon that night.

For the first time since the engagement, he didn’t drag himself home before the sun rose, slipping into bed like nothing was wrong. This time, he stayed with you.

Held you.

Breathed you in.

And when morning came, he knew what he had to do.

Leeyeon was waiting for him when he walked through the door.

She was sitting on the couch, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes blank. The moment their gazes met, he saw it—the slight panic, the recognition. She knew.

“Who told you?” she asked quietly.

Mingi scoffed. “You just admitted it.”

Leeyeon inhaled sharply but didn’t deny it. Instead, she straightened her spine, tilting her chin up. “How long have you known?”

“Since last night,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “Saw a text from San on your phone.”

Her lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her face. “You checked my phone?”

“Don’t.” Mingi clenched his jaw. “Don’t act like I’m the problem here.”

Leeyeon let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You’re no saint either, Mingi.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You cheated on me,” she snapped, eyes flashing. “Plenty of times. With Y/n.”

Mingi stilled.

Leeyeon scoffed. “What? You thought I didn’t know? I may not have said anything, but I knew every time you disappeared in the middle of the night. Every time you came home smelling like her.”

His throat tightened, but he didn’t look away.

“At least I only did it once,” she continued, voice sharp now, slicing through the air like a blade. “And you want to talk about betrayal? You want to act like you’re the victim? Like what I did was so much worse than what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

Mingi took a step forward, fists clenched. “You lied about the baby.”

“You would’ve left if I told you the truth.”

“Of course, I would’ve left!” he shouted, voice cracking. “Because it’s not my fucking kid, Leeyeon! You were going to let me raise San’s child and never tell me.”

Leeyeon’s jaw tightened.

He laughed bitterly. “So don’t stand there and act like we’re the same. I may have cheated, but at least I wasn’t planning to build a whole damn life on a lie.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Then, Leeyeon sighed, rubbing her temples. “So what now?”

Mingi stared at her, heart pounding.

“I’m done,” he said, voice steady. “We’re done.”

Leeyeon swallowed.

Mingi exhaled, stepping back. “And this time, I’m not coming back.”

He turned on his heel and walked out the door.

Straight to you.

Mingi didn’t look back.

Not at the life he was leaving behind. Not at the woman who had lied to him. Not at the baby that was never his.

His hands were shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, his mind a blur of anger, betrayal, and something else—something almost like relief.

Because for the first time in years, he wasn’t forcing himself to stay.

He was choosing to leave.

And he was choosing you.

You opened the door before he could even knock.

Mingi didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapped his arms around you, and buried his face in your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You didn’t ask what happened.

Didn’t say a word.

You just held him.

And that was all he needed.

For the first time in weeks, Mingi stayed the night without guilt clawing at his chest.

There was no sneaking out. No lying. No pretending.

Just you, tangled in the sheets with him, your fingers tracing lazy circles against his bare chest as he stared up at the ceiling.

“She admitted it,” he murmured.

You hummed softly. “She didn’t try to deny it?”

“No.” He sighed. “She threw it in my face. Said I had no right to be angry because I cheated on her too.”

Your fingers stilled.

Mingi turned his head, meeting your gaze. “She’s not wrong,” he admitted. “I did cheat. A lot. With you.”

You swallowed. “But it’s not the same.”

He nodded slowly. “No. It’s not.”

Because he never loved Leeyeon.

Not the way he loved you.

Not the way he always had.

And maybe that didn’t excuse what he did. Maybe it didn’t make him a better person.

But it was the truth.

And that was all he had now.

It should have been over.

Mingi had left her. He had chosen you.

But some things never ended cleanly.

Because Leeyeon wasn’t done yet.

Mingi should’ve known it wouldn’t end that easily.

He had walked away, slammed the door shut on the life he didn’t want. He had chosen you.

But some things don’t just stay buried.

Some things crawl back to the surface, uglier than before.

And Leeyeon wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

It started with the phone calls.

Mingi ignored them at first, let them go to voicemail.

Then came the texts.

Leeyeon: We need to talk.

Leeyeon: Mingi, answer me.

Leeyeon: You think you can just walk away from this?

Leeyeon: Fine. You don’t want to talk to me? Let’s see if you ignore this.

The next message wasn’t from Leeyeon.

It was from San.

San: You and I need to talk. Now.

Mingi stared at the screen, his blood turning ice cold.

San.

His best friend.

The man who had been sleeping with his fiancée behind his back.

And now, after weeks of silence, San was the one reaching out?

Mingi let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head.

No.

If San wanted to talk, he could come find him himself.

But San wasn’t the one who showed up first.

It was Leeyeon.

She pounded on your apartment door, loud enough to make you jolt in surprise.

Mingi was already out of bed, throwing on a shirt when you grabbed his arm. “Mingi, don’t—”

“I have to,” he muttered, jaw clenched.

You swallowed hard but let him go.

The second he opened the door, Leeyeon shoved past him, her face twisted in fury.

“You really thought you could just walk away?” she snapped, spinning to face him.

Mingi crossed his arms. “I did.”

Leeyeon let out a humorless laugh. “Wow. No apology? No guilt? Just moving on with her?” She shot a glare in your direction.

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You cheated first.”

Leeyeon’s eyes narrowed. “And you think that makes you innocent? You knew he was engaged, and you still spread your legs every time he came running.”

Mingi’s body went rigid. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Leeyeon scoffed. “Oh, please. I’m supposed to be the villain here, right? Because I cheated. Because I lied. But you—” she jabbed a finger at Mingi’s chest, her voice shaking now “—you were never mine to begin with, were you?”

Mingi exhaled sharply. “Leeyeon—”

“You think I didn’t notice?” she cut him off. “You were in love with her the whole time. You were sleeping next to me, but you were dreaming about her.”

He didn’t answer.

Because she was right.

Leeyeon shook her head, laughing bitterly. “So tell me, Mingi. Was I just a placeholder? A convenience?”

Mingi met her gaze, unflinching. “You were a mistake.”

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, she looked like she might cry.

But then her face hardened.

And that’s when she dropped the bomb.

“You want to know who’s really the mistake?” she said quietly, tilting her head. “San.”

Mingi frowned. “What?”

Leeyeon smirked. “He was the mistake. Sleeping with him? Getting pregnant with his baby?” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Oops.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew? You knew this whole time that the baby wasn’t his?”

Leeyeon’s lips curled. “Of course I knew.” She glanced at Mingi. “And yet, you stayed. Like a good little fool.”

Mingi felt something snap inside him.

His fists clenched. His breath came hard and fast.

And then, before he could stop himself, he laughed.

Laughed.

Leeyeon’s smirk faltered.

“You really think you win, don’t you?” Mingi stepped closer, his voice eerily calm. “You really think you have the upper hand here?”

Leeyeon blinked, momentarily thrown off.

Mingi shook his head, a smirk of his own tugging at his lips. “Let me tell you something, Leeyeon. You lost the second you thought you could play me.”

She scoffed. “And what? You’re gonna run off with her now?” She nodded toward you.

Mingi didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Leeyeon’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

For the first time, she was speechless.

Mingi leaned in, lowering his voice. “Enjoy your life with San. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled when he finds out the baby is his.”

Leeyeon inhaled sharply. “You wouldn’t—”

“Oh, I will.”

And with that, he grabbed your hand—

And slammed the door in her face.

But this wasn’t over.

Because Leeyeon wasn’t the only one with unfinished business.

San was still out there.

And he was coming.

Mingi barely had time to breathe before his phone vibrated again.

Another text.

San: I’m outside. We need to talk. Now.

Mingi stared at the screen, jaw clenching.

Leeyeon hadn’t wasted any time. She’d probably run straight to him the second she left, spinning the story however she wanted.

He turned to you, still gripping your hand. “Stay inside.”

You frowned. “Mingi—”

“I mean it.” His voice was firm. “I’ll handle this.”

You hesitated, but the look in his eyes made you nod.

Mingi exhaled, then turned and stepped outside.

San was leaning against his car, arms crossed, eyes dark.

“So,” he started, voice eerily calm. “You finally know.”

Mingi scoffed. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

San smirked. “I knew it was only a matter of time. Leeyeon’s not as smart as she thinks.”

Mingi’s fists clenched. “How long?”

San raised a brow. “How long what?”

“How long have you been fucking my fiancée?” Mingi’s voice rose, barely restrained.

San didn’t even flinch. “Does it matter?”

Mingi took a step forward, his entire body tensed like a predator ready to strike. “It matters to me.”

San tilted his head. “Then let’s say… long enough.”

Mingi’s vision blurred with rage.

“You really thought you could get away with this?” he growled. “That I’d never find out?”

San sighed dramatically. “Mingi, come on. Don’t act like some heartbroken victim. We both know you were never really faithful.” He gestured vaguely. “You had her the whole time.”

Mingi’s chest tightened.

“That’s different,” he bit out.

San let out a low chuckle. “Is it?”

Mingi didn’t respond. He just took another step closer.

San’s smirk widened. “Are you gonna hit me, Mingi? Go ahead. Might make you feel better.”

Mingi was so close to snapping.

So close to breaking San’s stupid, smug face—

Then San leaned in and whispered, “What’s really funny is, I don’t even want her.”

Mingi stilled. “What?”

San sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Leeyeon. She was just convenient. But honestly?” He let out a short laugh. “I’m already over it.”

Mingi’s stomach twisted.

“You ruined my relationship,” he said slowly, voice low and dangerous.

San smirked. “Did I? Or did you do that all by yourself?”

That was it.

Mingi swung.

His fist connected with San’s jaw, sending him stumbling back.

San recovered quickly, wiping his mouth, then laughed. “There it is.”

Mingi wasn’t done. He grabbed San by the collar, slamming him against his car.

San winced but didn’t resist. “Feel better?”

Mingi’s breathing was ragged. His pulse pounded in his ears.

But he didn’t hit him again.

Because San wasn’t worth it.

He let go, shoving him back.

San straightened, rolling his neck. “So what now?”

Mingi’s eyes darkened. “Now, you tell Leeyeon the truth.”

San raised a brow. “And if I don’t?”

Mingi smirked coldly. “Then I will.”

San studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Fine.”

Mingi turned to leave.

But San’s voice stopped him.

“Hey, Mingi.”

He paused.

San smirked. “Say hi to Y/n for me.”

Mingi didn’t look back.

But next time?

San wouldn’t be walking away so easily.

Mingi clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take a deep breath. His hands were still shaking, adrenaline thrumming through his veins.

San was lucky. Lucky that Mingi had enough restraint to not break his face completely.

But this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

He turned, striding back toward the apartment, but the moment he stepped inside, he found you standing in the hallway, arms crossed, worry evident in your eyes.

“What happened?” you asked softly.

Mingi exhaled sharply. “San’s a dead man walkin.”

You swallowed, stepping closer. “Did he—?”

“He admitted everything,” Mingi cut in, voice laced with frustration. “Didn’t even try to deny it. And Leeyeon—” He let out a bitter laugh. “She’s still trying to act like she can fix this.”

You hesitated, searching his face. “And you? What are you going to do?”

Mingi ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. He had spent weeks trying to figure out why Leeyeon had been acting so strangely, why she had barely let him be involved with the pregnancy. And now, it all made sense.

It wasn’t his child.

It never was.

“I’m done,” he finally said, his voice steadier than he expected. “With her. With this whole mess.”

You inhaled softly, as if bracing yourself for what was coming next. “So… what now?”

Mingi didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for you, fingers gently trailing along your wrist before grasping your hand fully.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, squeezing lightly. “But the only thing I’m sure about is you.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time in a long time, a small, genuine smile pulled at Mingi’s lips.

Mingi let out a small laugh. “At least now, we can finally move forward.”

You tilted your head. “Are you sure?”

Mingi smirked, stepping closer until your bodies were just inches apart.

“Positive.”

And this time, when he leaned in, nothing stopped him.

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literaryslapshot · 21 hours ago

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please please please write angst with a happy ending for natemac i love him so much please

angst? my specialty.

this was the last time you would let him do this to you. it became incredibly clear that what mattered to you, didn't really matter to him. he would forget about date nights, important anniversaries- when you needed him, he would be in the gym or with the guys, not with you.

you packed a bag together; you didn't know how long you would be gone but you needed to get out. the thought of sleeping in the bed with nate made you nauseous. calling up your friend you arranged to sleep on her couch for a couple days until something sorted itself out.

time was a concept at this point. one minute you were packing your bags and it was rush hour traffic, the next you were watching the harry potter series on your friends couch and it was dark outside. it felt nice, though, to not think about nate as bad as that sounds. but as if on cue, you see his name pop up on your screen.

"y/n? where are you at, you're not home?" you bit your lip, your hands shaking while you tried to find the words. it was almost like you were nervous. "everything okay?"

"i'm at emma's house." you responded. he paused on the other end, asking why. his tone made you even more upset, he wasn't even aware of what he had done it seemed.

"you forgot about today, didn't you?" he was silent on the other end. "nate we've had this planned for weeks, i bought these tickets a long time ago, and you forgot." you could feel the tension coming from his side of the phone.

"y/n...you're at emma's? i'll be there in 15 minutes." his words made you nervous. was he going to confess something? make your nightmares come true?

those 15 minutes went by like 15 hours. you were pacing in emma's living room until you saw his headlights pull in the driveway. he didn't waste any time running up to the front door and knocking. emma let you have the space to talk with nate, not wanting to intrude on what might be a hard conversation.

"come in," you opened the door. he walked past you and looked at your suitcase next to her couch, his heart sank a little bit. "listen i-"

"i have a lot of explaining to do." you sit down on the couch and give him the chance to explain himself, mentally preparing for the worst. prepping your heart for the knife it's about to receive. "i've been the worst boyfriend to you."

oh god here it comes.

"i haven't been paying attention to you, i've been pushing you-us- aside and...it's been making everything so hard. this is all my fault. everything it's....it's because of me."

you feel tears well up in your eyes and you take a few hitched breaths, "where were you tonight? if you knew it's your fault, why did you forget about tonight?"

he puts his hands in his pockets and purses his lips. "i was at gabe's, i was talking to him about what to do. i needed advice, someone to tell me what to do on how to fix this."

you keep your still, cold expression. hands tight in your lap as your leg muscles were tensing together. he moves in front of you, dropping to his knees and placing the palms of his hands on your legs softly. "talk to me, please," his breath hitches.

"it has to change, nathan, i can't keep doing this." you let out a cry and almost in an instant his hand is cupping your cheek and wiping the tears away.

"i don't want to keep doing this to you." he admitted. "i'll change, i can't lose you."

he stands up and pulls you into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. he feels your chest shake from crying and he holds you tighter, placing light kisses against your hair, softly apologizing over and over.

you pulled away, placing your hands on his cheeks and kissing his lips softly. "i forgive you, nate. i love you."

#my asks #nate mackinnon #nathan mackinnon #nate mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #i really don't intend to always make nate seem like such a bad bf #it just kinda happens #nate if u see this i bet ur amazing #j's writing

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 2 days ago

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L x Reader pt. 2: The Billionaire and the Prostitute

this one is much shorter than the first, but I feel like it's an important one for storyline's sake, and I also felt like it was important to cut it off where I did. Let me know what you think!

L has been thinking about you.

Don't flatter yourself, he thinks about everything.

He thinks about how dull life is without a case to work on. He thinks about how there is currently a .06% decrease in American stock market value. He thinks about how the changing climate means that Mont Blanc will be coming into season. He thinks about you.

It's best to start with why he even decided to find a prostitute in the first place. Yes, he's heard sexual activity is good for mental acuity, but it's more than that.

At first, he tried to watch porn. The results were rather fruitless, the obvious theatrics and pandering was what one might call "a turn off." He didn't appreciate the plastic, fake feeling of it. So, he turned to more experimental methods.

He tried various aphrodisiacs, no matter how disgusting (He will never taste another oyster in this life), different devices, anything to gather a result. It just wasn't...fun. It brought him little pleasure, and it certainly didn't give him any boost in attention. Still, he was no quitter, and when self-pleasure failed, it was only natural that human contact took it's place.

It would be wrong to say that people scare him, because it frankly isn't true. People don't scare him, nor do they allude him, they simply...tired him. People are so needy, they want to be praised and assured and directed. He was content in doing so, for the sake of work, but recreation was different. More personal. More annoying. On the other hand, this hypothesis intrigued him, so he would allow the discontent, so long as he could minimize it.

Obviously, he couldn't find someone to date, it wouldn't be right. The breakup after his experimenting would be too messy. So, a hooker. He scoured the internet, called a few people that owed him favors, and gathered a small sample. high end women with extensive background checking and respected clientele.

He needed someone who wouldn't ask more questions than necessary, he needed someone he was attracted to, and he needed someone who knew what they were doing. With so much time on his hands, he personally looked into each woman's history, including yours.

He knows what you've done for clients, what you offer to do, what you ask of them before hand, as well as the personal things. Name, age, schooling, address. Nothing to worry about of course, he's not judgmental. You had the best track record out of everyone, as well as the highest rates.

With a logical deduction, he chose you. It only made sense, you were objectively the best. He sent Watari to drop off a letter in your mailbox, a request of your services accompanied by up-to-date tests for every STD under the sun, with hopes of your cooperation. As you know, you responded via the email address he had added on the request, and sent over your expectations and contracts. They were reviewed by him, all manageable and reasonable. All parties must consent, the relations can be terminated at any time, each session must be paid for individually, etc. However, you also demanded more pay for the extra work he required. It would take a lot of time to do all the things he requested for privacy's sake, and that should be paid for along with your time in his presence.

Ever gracious, he corresponded that he'd pay ¥10,000,000 for each session. It was no bother, and far easier than negotiating. He received an eager agreement, as he suspected, and sent the down payment.

a week after contracts were signed and processed, you came over for your first meeting. He found himself attracted to you, at least in a physical sense, which was promising. In an effort to be hospitable, he offered you cake and engaged in light small talk, and through that he found you to be interesting. Polite yet proud, witty and...a little bossy. He wasn't used to being bossed. It was good, it meant he didn't have to worry about initiating anything. He could follow a professional's direction.

The sex was much better than his personal attempts. He was delighted, one might say. During the act, his train of thought felt surprisingly linear, there were no clouds of depression, nor scatterings of calculations, not a single other idea besides how you felt around him. To find that the stress he often experienced was practically nonexistent in the afterglow was almost better than the act itself.

In the time after, he felt spurred on, instilled with a vigor that couldn't be traded for anything. He took on a new case in America, nothing he needed to be present for, but something that he would enjoy enough to fill his days with. This clarity lasted for a couple weeks, 18 days to be exact, before he felt exactly as he had before. Make no mistake, 18 days was an incredible feat for him, this was not anything he regretted. Now, all he had to do was call you back. ¥10,000,000 twice a month wasn't so bad...though he may just have to quell his excitement at this discovery and only schedule you back once a month. He could spend two or so weeks feeling bogged down, it was no trouble.

Your phone rang around 10 PM, right in the middle of a very delicious ramen dinner. You didn't recognize the number, but you picked it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Miss L/N?"

"L?" You never gave him your number, but you recognized his low tone and slow, enunciated words.

"Yes. I'd like to schedule another appointment."

"How'd you get my number?" Already? you saw him 2 weeks ago. He didn't strike you as someone with a high libido.

"I don't see how that's important. Would you rather me send an email?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Next time then. Another appointment?"

You sigh. It was a curse, being so impeccable in bed. "Yeah, sure, what time?"

"I want to see you on October 13th, at 11:30 PM. does that work for you?"

"Really?" people don't usually schedule so far in advance, this is usually an impulse, call a day ahead type of thing.

"I imagine you're busy. Can you do it?"

"I mean...yeah, sure, why not," you shrug, grabbing your calendar to pencil him in.

You were very easy going. He liked that, it was a sign you were open-minded.

"Alright, you're in. Anything else?"

"...Yes, actually. Did you enjoy yourself?"

He was certainly forward. "Uh..." you thought back. You didn't mind how he went about it...he was nice to look at... he picked it up quickly. He actually managed to give you an orgasm. "Yeah. Guess so," you hum. What were you supposed to do, jump for joy? "Why?"

"Curiosity. That was all, thank you."

"Kay, goodnight," you say, annoyance slipping through your tone. It was sort of late, and your food was getting cooler by the second.

"Goodnight, Miss L/N," L says softly. Then, he hangs up.

What an odd guy.

L can confidently say, and this is not something he can say often, that he is excited. The prospects were enticing, he wanted to know just how beneficial this arrangement was in the long run. to see results after only one night was incredible enough, imagine what could happen after sustained visitation. Though, he had another question he neglected to ask on the phone.

Your computer pinged with the notification of an email. You roll your eyes. You were just about to get into bed, now what? After considering waiting until morning, you tiredly walk over to your computer, and opened up your work email to see which bastard was emailing you now. To your surprise, it was the one you just finished talking to.

Do you enjoy sweets? If so, which ones?

-L

#fanfic #fan fiction #l lawlight #l lawilet #l lawiet #l x reader #l death note #death note #death note l #death note fanfiction #death note smut #l lawliet smut

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sillyguystrawb · 1 day ago

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Normally I talk about TicciJack in a poly-ship setting where Toby dates both Eyeless Jack and Clockwork, but this time I'm just gonna be thinking about Eyeless Jack and Ticci Toby as a monogamous couple because that's also cute to me too <3

Hey @reddetur this one's for you

Ok Ticci Toby X Eyeless Jack ramblings, thoughts, ideas, etc. because I have problems and I'm gay and my stupid and gay serial killers and cannibals are so mmmmmm sweetie pies in looovvvveee!!! Entirely sfw and doesn't contain commonly triggering topics, but it is messy and all over the place, no thought is baked more than half way.

Ticci Toby X Eyeless Jack Time!!

An idea I had for Toby and Jack to get together was Toby and Jack being friends for a long time and Toby being completely romantically inexperienced and terrified of rejection and cannot read what's somebody liking him as a friend versus romantic where Jack just thinks Toby knows how Jack feels and doesn't feel the same way (idiots who can't communicate due to being socially inept). At some point Toby cracks a "Forever alone nobody loves me" joke and Jack is just genuinely confused like "What?? I've been in love with you for like a year though, I thought you knew that?" and Toby is like half trying to explain it was a joke and half trying to clarify that Jack just confessed to loving him and anyway they're idiots <3

Jack is like ... a fucking tall guy, terrifyingly tall. But that means he gets BIG CLOTHES, and Toby steals them. All the time. Jackets, shirts, underwear, socks, pants, it's comfy and he feels safe and like Jack's hugging him when he's not around and it's baggy and lose on Toby and super cozy. Jack only gets his clothes back when Toby wants them to smell like Jack again.

Jack shows love with acts of service mostly, and will literally do everything for Toby from make food (Toby does not let him, DO NOT let Jack near a toaster and then walk away, lest the house catch on fire and he blame the "way the kettle boiled" for it), to literally sitting beside the tub and bathing Toby, to stitching his wounds (with intense annoyance at the fact Toby should be careful), to cleaning his room, just ANYTHING. Toby says the word and Jack gets it DONE.

Toby shows love with physical affection and words of affirmation. Toby's a pretty brutally honest guy in the vast majority of situations, and this extends to the way he talks to Jack. Jack cannot get Toby to shut up about how much he loves Jack (not that Jack ever has wanted him to, or would want him to), and Toby will often find Jack and beg for attention when he's busy (deliberately when Jack is busy) to tell him that he's the most important person in Toby's life.

When Toby learned that Jack liked being touched (not even in a sexual way, just as a romantic affection thing!) he was over the moon. Jack isn't very inclined to initiate physical touch, because he much prefers it when Toby just does... affectionate Toby things? Toby will burrow into Jack's hoodie while Jack's wearing it and claim it's for warmth reasons to which Jack replies "You can't feel temperature" and Toby says "Can't feel I can see just fine and I can tell you're pretty hot". Jack especially likes it when toby decides that the only acceptable way to get around is by making Jack give him a piggyback ride, or the only acceptable chair is Jack's lap.

Toby is obsessed with finding new random excuses to initiate any physical touch with Jack. Like "Hey is my skin warm or cold I can't tell if my body needs a blanket" and then just shove his face into Jack's neck and nuzzle him, when they both know that Toby's temperature is far from concerning in any way and that Toby just wants a big hug. Which Jack obviously provides.

For like the first month of their relationship Toby referred to Jack as a full title in EVERY POSSIBLE CIRCUMSTANCE. "Jack, who is my perfect boyfriend" was inserted anywhere in any conversation because Toby was so excited and happy. Jack thought it was fucking adorable. Toby eventually asked Jack why he didn't talk about how excited he was that they were together, and Jack's reponse was "Why spend time talking about how much I love you to people who won't understand just how much I mean it anyway, when I can spend that same time showing you, the person who matters most."

Toby's assigned side of the bed is whichever side Jack is already on. Toby lays on top of Jack, and Jack acts very annoyed at this but Toby knows Jack can't sleep without the equivalent of a weighted blanket on him. Toby once slept on his own side of the bed only to be woken up an hour later by Jack telling Toby he couldn't sleep, and that their usual sleeping accomidations were a necessity for his physical wellbeing as sleep is an incredibly important routine to maintain, and the weight Toby provides is a physical importance to this due to the relaxing effect Toby has on his emotional state and the anti-anxiety properties of sleeping with a weighted object or entity. But because Toby was half asleep he was just like "So you wanna cuddle because it gives you good dreams?" and Jack's like "... yes."

Jack knows Toby likes to collect rocks, so he carves hearts into cool rocks he finds on his own and leaves them on Toby's desk to find.

#ticcijack #ticci toby x eyeless jack #ticci toby #eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #crp fandom #creepypasta fluff #ticcijack fluff

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l1ke-an-angel · 2 days ago

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Lil dkbk ft. fujoshi Mina WIP

“Are you serious Kats?” Mina gaped, wide eyed and practically foaming at the mouth.

“Yes,” Katsuki responded, rolling his eyes. He almost regretted starting their conversation in the first place, “and stop callin’ me that.”

“Absolutely not, but oh my gosh you and Midoriya?”

“Don’t say ‘and’, you’ll jinx this shit,”

“Okay, so you like Midoriya. Seriously!” She squealed, shaking her hands with excitement. Drama was Mina’s specialty and Katsuki was her best friend. Typically Katsuki and anything romantic didn't coincide. When she came into his dorm room, the Katsuki Bakugo revealing he had a crush was the last thing she expected.

“You don’t have to keep repeating it,” He groaned.

“Kats, this is so exciting oh my gosh. Does anyone else know?” Katsuki winced, afraid of her feeling too special when the truth was revealed.

“No,”

“Really?” She seemed surprised, musing a bit before continuing, “But why me? I mean, I don’t really know Midoriya very well.”

“Exactly, and you know… you read all that BL shit, so I kinda assumed you might know something about this.”

“You mean you want my fujoshi expertise?” Her eyes lit up in a dangerous way. Everyone in the hero course was a bit off-beat, that's just what the harsh realities of hero work did to people. Izuku had his merch collections, Sato had his baking, Jiro had her music, and Mina had an insane obsession with everything BL.

“Whatever you wanna call it,” Katsuki groaned once again, though he knew this was for the best. For years he had been wallowing in his feelings about Izuku, never able to push himself to make anything happen. As their looming graduation approached, he had realized it would be too late if he didn’t do something soon. Still, his pride was almost as big as his love for Izuku. Telling Mina was Katsuki’s way of making sure something would happen. People saw her as a ditz, but if that girl was anything, she was tenacious.

“In that case, i’m going to need to know everything,” She scooted closer to where Katsuki was on the floor and hardened her expression; she was ready to create the perfect plan to ensure Katsuki would get Izuku.

“Fuck no!” Katsuki could barely even explain to himself how the hell he’d started as Izuku’s childhood friend and ended up in love with him. It was far more complicated than any of them knew, “Just tell me what boys like in those books.”

Mina laughed patronizingly, “No no no. That’s not how it works, Kats. Every BL has a good back story that leads into the love story. Things like whether the main love interests knew each other in the past or not. I need to know when you met, when you realized you liked him, anything that's special to your relationship…” She rambled on and on with her list, so much so that Katsuki was forgetting nearly every addition she made, “oooh and I’m for sure going to know who the top and bottom is.”

“WHAT?” Katsuki immediately got up and began pacing around the room with regret.

“It’s really important to the dynamic. I mean traditionally you’d probably be the top, but muscular bottoms with angry personalities and more gentle tops have been super popular recently.”

“STOP.”

#dekubaku #yaoi bl #dkbk #dkbk fanfic #dkbkdk #my hero academia #fan fiction #fan fic writing #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #bakudeku #bkdk

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questionablespecies · 2 days ago

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Like let's be real for a second and put ourselves in Mark's shoes about wanting to save his wife who he thought was LOST for all time.

You put yourself in this weirdo program where you can forget 8hrs of your life to kinda ease the depression. Yeah yeah Lumon said something about me having an innie or whatever; don't ever intend on talking to that guy cause why would I need to? It's me.

Then find out my wife is alive in this crazy ass program AND turns out innies aren't JUST me after all... surely they would understand that my - MY - life is way more important cause all they got is that office - I can get them away from that cause once I get my wife out we're Gucci and burning this company to the grou- wait what, my innie is seeing somebody? In love??? What the hell? SO?? My wife of 4yrs is waaaaaay more important than somebody you see/love conditionally. What? My innie thinks THEIR relationship is important too AND their life??? They gotta be fucking kidding -

In short, all this to say that it's super super SUPER easy to be Mark here. Y'all can say he's manipulative or rude or hates innies what have you - but real talk? Y'all would probably do the same if you too were using Lumon to escape a pain so unbearable only to discover the cure to it was right under your nose. You never talked to your innie, never knew they even had a varying personality to yours. Just thought that they were idk a husk of yourself or something that would be agreeable cause it's you. Not knowing the real hell that they go through and how they do have lives down there that aren't advertised. Everything you hear about innies being people or separate people are from advocates who hate the company and who hate people for participating in the company. Of course you'd have doubts, but you'd also get defensive.

Like I said previously, both Marks are valid and human and both deserve their happiness which is the tragedy of it all 🤧

#severance #severance spoilers #mark scout

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myheartxmyman · 10 months ago

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#it was all too much #you knew and you said the most perfect thing you could have said #but nothing ever happened #you got my hopes high when I was so so low #words didn't match actions #when I had the money to take myself away #I chose to stay with you #I could have given me a well needed timeout #sun and ocean therapy #but I wanted to share this experience WITH You #the thought of leaving for holidays without you crossed my mind but it felt so so wrong and was no option #you knew what I needed but everything was more important #why did you even talked about it?#giving someone high hopes who's barely alive and completely and utterly on their lowest and then not following through is just cruel #I waited and waited and waited for something that was never going to happen #it's painful knowing I had 'the last money' from my father and could have spent it visiting HIS FAVORITE COUNTRY #he would've totally approved he would have been proud #I will never forgive myself for that #I spent his last money during those months I waited for 'us' to DO SOMETHING #I literally didn't care what all I wanted was a tiny holiday and time out together - so we could get much needed distance peace and quiet #I stayed around because I thought we have to leave together so we could get closer again #I hoped for us get close again get that special one of a kind bond back while making new experiences and memories #just the two of us for once #and then you didn't look on your phone those days before new years eve you obviously didn't care at all if I wrote you or not #you didn't care if we would spend new years eve together #you didn't care about us starting together side by side in the new year #you didn't drove 5 to 10 minutes but had the decency of writing 'would love being on the tower together with you like last year right now'#the year started with a lie obviously you DIDN'T MEAN it otherwise everything would have been different #I can still not fully comprehend what happened few hours later you fucking broke my heart my trust our bond our relationship ALL IN ONE #you made me feel worthless (500 euro was worth breaking everything) you made me feel unloved and totally betrayed you gave a shit on my dad

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impishsensei · 3 days ago

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there were a few conflicting emotions flowing through satoru’s mind at utahime’s response. frustration was one of them, because she seemed to understand he was serious but also somehow didn’t. obviously there was also sadness, because her rejection meant that delusional fantasy of his — of what his future might look like — really was just that. confusion was also prominent, because utahime kissed him like she wanted him. she treated him so gently then too, cleaning a wound she didn’t need to, and looked up at him with something that looked a lot like affection.

but that was his fault. of course she’d look after him and look at him fondly. they’d known each other since their youth. as for the kiss… he didn’t think utahime would be the type to kiss someone so easily, but maybe she just wanted to know what it felt like, and the tension built up and made her feel desire, and he couldn’t blame her for that. it was a natural reaction, she was green in anything involving intimacy, and satoru had several years of experience.

it was actually been about a year or so since he’d been with a woman. he went on dates here and there, but they’d never end up back at her place or some hotel, even when they were gunning for that. he’d make-out a little, maybe, but it never went beyond that. he just found that it wasn’t scratching that itch like it used to, and he wasn’t into it. he even stuck to short girls with long, dark hair, because maybe he could at least pretend, but it never worked, because he knew it wasn’t her.

i don’t want anyone else but her.

he’d never considered the possibility of being with someone else. even since he was a boy, he’d figured that of course they’d end up together because she was always there, and she was his. he’d done so much to make sure she was safe, from personally threatening the higher ups to never give her difficult missions to sabotaging her attempts at becoming a grade 1 sorcerer. he’d intervened on the countless guys he knew expressed interest in her — to the point where it was an unspoken understanding among male sorcerers that she was off limits if they valued their safety.

but she rejected him. she rejected him, and it hurt in a way that was hard for him to define. it was as if there was this oppressive and heavy feeling weighing on him, almost like he was drowning in the crushing weight of his reality. of course he’d have everything a man could possibly want, but the few things that he actually wanted escaped him.

satoru already lost his best friend, grew up without the love of his parents, and the woman he’d truly fallen for didn’t feel the same way about him. it appeared to him that fate had a cruel way of punishing him for daring to want more. it was a painful reminder of what the elders told him.

❛ you’ll be the strongest one day. it is a great responsibility and honor. getting too attached to anyone or anything will get in the way. it’s your duty. ❜

❛ but when can i see my mama? ❜ a small child, not older than 5, asks.

❛ you don’t have one. she’s gone. stop asking.❜

yeah, his cross to bear. he wasn’t a regular person, even among sorcerers. he was the closest a human could probably get to being an actual deity, and someone like that, with such an important task as protecting everyone, couldn’t ever find any kind of love. it’d inevitably cause complications.

❝ y’know, you could’ve just said no, senpai, ❞ satoru said with a forced laugh, as if it was an actual joke. he couldn’t show how much it hurt him, because that’s not what the strongest does, and she’d worry about him. no one needs to worry about him. he’s gojo satoru — he can always handle anything. he has to.

for a moment, as their foreheads brushed and he turned his hand over to cup her cheek instead, he felt the urge to kiss her again. it was such a strong and sudden need that he almost gave in to it, but utahime herself indicated it was a mistake. he was a selfish and delusional boy. a few kisses wouldn’t undo years of his teasing. his looks couldn’t make up for his personality.

❛ gojo-kun, you’re totally hot but you’re more the type of guy you have fun fooling around with, rather than the type a woman wants to settle down with. ❜

❛ aww, that’s a little hurtful, aimi-chan! ❜

❛ yeah yeah, whatever, like a fuckboy like you cares! anyway, wanna go again? ❜

he shook off the memories. why were they popping into his mind? they were completely irrelevant and had nothing to do with the situation at hand. he needed to get a grip.

❝ right, yeah, i know you don’t. i should’ve known better and kept that to myself. sorry. ❞ when he spoke he could feel a lump in his throat. he averted his gaze when he felt a familiar yet incredibly rare feeling welling up in his eyes. he stepped back then, and slipped his blindfold from his pocket right back onto his head, concealing his eyes — slipping his mask back on and concealing himself. he often heard and read the eyes were the window to the soul, after all, and no one then could truly see him with the physical manifestation of his walls in place.

it’s always easier to navigate the world like this.

❝ it’s getting late. you should probably head home. want me to drop you off at shoko’s so she can heal your hand? ❞

UTAHIME COULDN'T DO ANYTHING but stand there with her mouth open. She couldn't find the words to respond to all that he had just said to her. It was almost like she was having an OUT - OF - BODY experience. She had never heard him talk so openly and honestly about his feelings before. But the more he talked, the more her eyes BLAZED. The more her INSTINCTS screamed at her not to BELIEVE a word he was saying.

Utahime started wondering if Gojo had lost his mind. Because what other explanation could there be for this ? Gojo Satoru was BLUSHING like a schoolboy with a crush. He was staring at her, his eyes full of VULNERABILITY — looking like a lost puppy, waiting for her to REJECT him.

"Satoru," she used his first name PURPOSELY, warning him that she was serious. Telling him that he'd better not be lying OR trying to trick her like he often did. She hadn't said his name out loud in YEARS. After one time too many of his SHITTY pranks, she had resolutely refused to say his first name altogether.

She had CHILDISHLY renounced him as her childhood friend, refusing to acknowledge him as anything but ' GOJO ' or ' IDIOT ' or ' JERK ' or WHATEVER other creative insult she had called him over the years. She'd been FIFTEEN when she made the decision and had stubbornly clung to her resolution ever since. Gojo had been particularly mean to her that day and had been for DAYS, weeks prior to her moving from Kyoto to Tokyo.

That was the first time she ever told him she HATED him. She had regretted the words as soon as they had left her mouth, but she'd been much too proud to apologize or take it back, even though she knew that wasn't the TRUTH. She'd never hated him. She was UPSET, but she didn't HATE him. Even when he'd been so HORRIBLE and done things that hurt her, she had never truly HATED him. They never talked about it. Gojo acted like it had never happened, and she went along with his lead.

They had just continued on like NORMAL.

That was just how things went for them. He'd tease her, and she'd get mad. She would yell, and he would laugh. When asked what she thought about Gojo Satoru, her answer would be that she hated him. That he was a STUPID idiot, and that she found him INSUFFERABLE. His name on her phone was registered as ' Idiot. ' That he was listed FIRST on her speed dial was a fact not many people knew about — Shoko's contact was second.

This too had been a PRACTICAL joke. It was the day he started high school. Gojo had swiped her phone while she was distracted, changing all the names and numbers in her contacts, listing himself as first. That had been a little over THIRTEEN YEARS AGO, and she never bothered to change his number back. That was how he'd forced his phone number on her. She'd refused to give him her own, but he always ended up obtaining it.

It was so ANNOYING, and he did it constantly — one of the MANY WAYS he TORMENTED her. He’d snatch her phone and add his number to it, leave it written on a piece of paper stuffed in her shoe locker, or slip a piece of paper in her bag with his new number on it. And whenever she blocked his number, he'd somehow manage to unblock himself. He'd repeat the relentless HARASSMENT until she saved his contact information.

Why was she thinking about this RIGHT NOW ? Because this was the same man who had done all that — and worse — to her. That SAME boy who'd pulled on her pigtails and laughed when she chased him with a broomstick, loudly calling her an OLD HAG and telling her she’d NEVER get a boyfriend. — was now confessing he liked her and hoped she might be interested in him ? She was supposed to BELIEVE that this was real ?

That this wasn't a TRICK ? That the same man who had made a habit of PRANKING and making a fool of her wasn't just messing with her head again ?

What kind of stupid joke is this ?

"At least you're self - aware."

Why do I have to feel like this ?

"That you're being delusional."

Her eyebrows furrowed, and her lips thinned. She had half a mind to grab the KETTLE and chuck it at him for the way her HEART squeezed. Her heart skipped a beat, but her face didn't show it. Her expression, FOR ONCE, communicated nothing. "You spent years treating me like I was nothing more than your personal entertainment. You picked fights with me, teased me at every opportunity, embarrassed me in front of others. You never— " A humorless laugh cut through her words, and she shook her head as her throat closed. "You never once gave me reason to believe you liked me."

Up until today.

Utahime didn't know if she wanted to scream, cry, or laugh. Her lips trembled as they curled upward — half a smile, half a grimace. There was a BITTER taste to her words. "And now, you have the audacity to tell me that you've had a crush on me for years. That I'm precious to you. That I'm important to you. That you'd do anything I asked of you. Bullshit. That's complete and utter bullshit."

But it wasn't.

She knew.

She KNEW.

She kept GOING. She kept speaking. The DAM opened, and the words spilling. She had held them in for so long. "Did you think a kiss changes everything ? That I’ve forgotten how you’ve treated me ? That I’ll just— " She sucked in a breath. She took a step forward and pointed her finger at him. She stabbed her finger against his chest, punctuating her words with a poke. "Do you really think I'm stupid enough to fall for that? Why should I ? Why should I believe a word that comes out of your mouth ?"

She was so ANGRY. She was mad because Gojo's confession didn't make her happy. It made her heart th - thump, and not in a good way. Her blood reached a BOIL. Utahime was growing angrier the longer she spoke, and her voice grew louder and LOUDER. She was shouting at him now. She wasn't looking at his face. She couldn't bear to see his expression. She HATED how much this affected her. How much he affected her. She pulled her hand back, ready to cross them defensively, but then she saw it — the faint glisten of BLOOD smeared across his knuckles.

Blood ?

Did the idiot hurt himself when he broke the counter ?

Utahime's eyes lowered to the cracked marble beneath him, the jagged lines splitting out from where his hand had struck. She didn’t know what was more ANNOYING— the fact that he injured himself or the fact that she cared enough to NOTICE.

Just because he can heal himself.

"You're a bigger idiot than I thought," she bit out, as if saying it would somehow stop her from wanting to reach for his hand. She did not CARE. She should not care.

He let himself get hurt.

Her whole body was taut with tension — Utahime HATED it when Gojo needlessly hurt himself. "I know. And. . . I don’t think you’re lying to me. I just. . ." Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I'm sorry I kissed you. I shouldn't have done that." She hadn't meant to make things COMPLICATED. She never wanted things to turn out this way. If she could have done anything, she would have erased the moment. If she could return back, she wouldn't have done it. She wouldn't have KISSED him. She WOULDN'T have given him the WRONG IDEA.

Utahime gave an exhausted sigh, and she looked back at him. "I'm afraid I have given you the wrong idea. Gojo. . . You know a relationship is not possible between us, right ?"

Not if FEELINGS were involved.

She couldn't.

Not with someone like him.

"You're the last man on earth I'd ever want to be with," she told him, her tone BLUNT. She felt the need to make that ABUNDANTLY CLEAR. Because it was the honest truth, and she needed him to know that. She had always meant it. Even if Gojo Satoru were the last man on earth, she'd rather die alone than spend her life with him. "It won't work, and we won't last. On most days, I hate you. I can't stand you, and the thought of— " Her eyes closed briefly as the memory of his lips against hers, of his hands resting on her waist, flashed in her mind, "—you liking me. I just don't know what to think of it."

She needed TIME to process this — to figure out what any of this meant — if it even could mean anything. Utahime moved past him to yank open the drawer where the FIRST - AID KIT was, and pulled out the supplies she needed. She returned to his side and, roughly taking his hand in hers, METICULOUSLY began to disinfect the wound. It was easier to focus on his injury. Her gaze stayed on his hand as she mended it.

His knuckles are scraped up but nothing seems to be broken. . . Thankfully. This stupid boy.

"I'm sorry, Gojo. I never thought. . . I never imagined. . . That maybe you. . ."

Gojo wasn’t the settling - down type. He wasn’t boyfriend material, let alone husband material. But, despite that, here he was, confessing his feelings for her and wanting a NON - PLATONIC relationship with her. Utahime didn't know if her heart could take the stress of trying to NAVIGATE THE IMPOSSIBLE. But she could feel the PULL, and the temptation was there. It was right there, and her heart was RACING. Her mind was warning her not to do it, but the way his eyes looked at her made her think that maybe. . .

No, no, no !

Utahime couldn’t afford to indulge in the possibility of WHAT - IFS. She needed to be RATIONAL. This was a BAD IDEA.

He already has a fiancée.

A woman perfectly suited to be his wife, a STRONG sorcerer who would carry the Gojo name. A young lady HANDPICKED by the elders of his clan to be his bride. Gojo had a DUTY to his clan, TO CARRY ON HIS BLOODLINE, and no matter how much he delayed it — Gojo would eventually carry out his duty to his clan. If the higher ups ever discovered their tryst. . . Utahime wasn't under any illusions about there being a FUTURE with him. She wasn't going to be his MISTRESS — she'd never settle for that kind of life. She would not play SECOND to another woman.

He isn't married. . .

Yet.

"I want us to be friends. . ."

Utahime looked up at him. His hand was bandaged up. She had finished, but didn't let go. She was still holding onto his hand. His big, STRONG hand. She was holding it and staring up into his face. His pretty, STUPID face. Her eyes softened. The look in his eyes was what made her heart squeeze. ( Why did she feel the need to apologize ? ) "You know. . ." She murmured, and slowly guided his hand upward. She brought it to her cheek, brushing his knuckles lightly across the scarred skin there, as if to say — it's okay if you want to. The touch was FEATHER - LIGHT. Her thumb grazed the edge of his bottom lip, and she felt herself leaning forward. Her gaze never left his. Their foreheads nearly touching.

"To be honest," she paused. "I don't think you'd be that cruel to me, Gojo. But I don't think you'd be all that nice, either."

If this had just been casual. . .

Her eyes wavered with hesitation. Her thumb slipped from his lip as her hand began to fall.

If it had just been about sex. . .

She could HAVE handled that ! ! Utahime didn't have experience with NO - STRINGS sex, but it sounded like a pretty STRAIGHTFORWARD arrangement. Nobody would leave with a BROKEN HEART. "I would have considered saying yes if I had known you weren't serious." She would have slept with him. Maybe. Not exactly without a SECOND THOUGHT, but she would have agreed to it if she had known it would have just been a ONE - TIME thing — something that happened between two CONSENTING adults who were PHYSICALLY attracted to each other. "But you are, and we just can't. Not if you like me. I can't be with you — not while we work together and have to see each other often. We're friends. And it works. But if we are more. . ." It would change everything between us. "I can't cross that line." They weren't the same. She couldn't lie to him or herself and tell him that she wanted the same things.

"I don't want you like that."

I can't want you like that.

Utahime couldn't do that to him. Her feelings weren't that SHALLOW. If Gojo could say something like this, it meant he had thought about it. He had considered the possibility of them. Utahime hadn't. She ignored THE JAB ( for both their sakes ) and BUMPED their foreheads together. Gojo just couldn’t resist RUNNING that stupid mouth of his. "As much as you annoy me," she said tersely, "and stress me out and make me mad. I don't hate you as much as you think I do. I've never hated you. I've been frustrated and annoyed and angry, but I've never fully hated you. Even when I tell you that I hate you, deep down I know it's only half true. I care about you, idiot."

Utahime could feel herself getting EMOTIONAL. She had to swallow down a lump in her throat. Her hand THROBBED. Her heart ACHED. Her eyes were absolutely NOT welling up with tears — that stinging sensation was just a FIGMENT of her imagination.

"And this, Gojo—" she gestured between the two of them, "—will not work."

#songcurse #꒰ v: main. ꒱#icb blindfold will soon draw to a close omg... what an adventure

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