#WHEN I HAVE NO GUIDES. NO NOTES. THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS

[haizononon]

Hi! I hope you feel better!!!

Was wondering if you would do a request (whenever) for smth like “protective w/ sho?” Could be any plot tbh like you finally get an R&R permit to go out somewhere, someone tries to hit on you but Sho comes to the rescue.

Thank you ~~~

protective w/ sho haizono

note: hii! i do feel a little better, thank you! hehe protective sho is always so charming... i hope this is okay!

contains: someone being pushy, fem-aligned reader, a very light reference to spiking drinks, me making stuff up because i don't know much about R&R permits oops...

Getting an R&R permit was an unusual event for the Vagastrom ghouls, most of their requests ending up ignored or rejected, so Leo wasted no time searching for a trendy club he wasn't banned from. And, of course, that meant Sho would also have to tag along.

However, despite his friend's protests, he invited you to come along as well.

"It wouldn't hurt you to let loose from time to time, senpai." He had said, so casually as he passed you your lunch.

You had no reason to reject his offer, especially when it was a chance to go out and enjoy yourself a little after working so hard these past few months, with the threat of a deathly curse looming over your head. A night out with friends, or a maybe-friend when it came to the influencer, didn't sound too bad.

What you didn't take into account was that Leo would drag the two of you to one of the newest, biggest clubs he could find. Despite the building being of a decent size, just looking inside from the entrance made you feel claustrophobic with how many people there were.

"Sho, you invited the NPC so you babysit her."

"Hah?" Before the albino could say anything, the influencer was already making his way into the crowd, leaving the two of you behind. Sho lets out a sigh, annoyed. "This guy..."

"Uhm, it's okay, you don't have to stay with me the whole time." You didn't want him to waste him to waste his free time in 'babysitting duty', it wasn't a common opportunity after all.

"Nah, I invited you, so don't worry." He waved off your worries, instead sending you one of his usual smirks. "Unless you want to get rid of me already?"

"Wha— No!" Your face heats up at your volume, a few people closest to the entrance glancing at you for a moment. Sho laughs, one of his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he guides you into the club.

"Good to know. Let's get you a drink."

Despite your initial nervousness at the size of the crowd, you find yourself enjoying a nice drink at the bar. The ghoul kept close to you at all times, his body acting as a barrier so no one bumped into you, just talking about your day and past experiences. It wasn't so different from your hangouts at the academy, just a lot noisier.

"Wait, so you're banned from all clubs in Shibuya? How?"

"Almost all of them." He corrects you, taking a sip of his own drink. "Leo always got in fights, you've already seen how he can be."

"Well, yes, but I didn't think it was so—" The sound of a notification interrupts you, and you move to check your own phone, unsure. Sho does the same, and while you see nothing in yours, the ghoul clicks his tongue.

"Talk of the devil..." At his grumble you lean closer, curious.

"Is it from Leo?"

"Yeah, seems like he was poking at someone and needs me there for a moment." He stands up, pausing to look at you. "Think you can wait here for a few?"

"Sure! I can't promise your drink will still be here when you come back though."

He chuckles at your playful grin, pushing his drink on the counter towards you. "Knock yourself out. Text me if anything happens."

Sho waits until you nod at him to confirm that you heard him before leaving to search for his friend, and it doesn't take long for you to feel lonely even with people all around you.

You're true to your word and stay there, keeping both drinks close just in case. It's after a few minutes that you feel someone sit on the stool next to yours, turning around with a smile to greet the albino, only to find a stranger way too close for your comfort.

"How come there's a pretty thing like you all alone in this side of the city?" His tone of voice alone makes the discomfort grow.

"I came with friends." You keep your answer short, obviously not wanting to continue the conversation, but the man doesn't seem to care.

"Really? Well, I don't see them, so they must be pretty shitty if they leave you like this." His eyes lower to the half-empty glasses in front of you. "I'll buy you a new drink, then you can ditch those friends and spend a good time with me, yeah?"

"No, thank you." You attempt to be polite at first.

"C'mon, don't be shy. I know some big shots here, the bartender will give me the best in stock."

"I'm not interested." This time, you're firm, standing up from your seat and reaching for your phone to text Sho that you will wait for him outside, only for a hand to roughly grab your wrist.

"Hey, your acting-hard-to-get thing is cute and all, but I'm not into chicks who keep pushing it." He tries to pull you onto the seat, but you stand your ground the best you can. "I just want to buy you a drink, you ungrateful—"

Suddenly, there's someone else behind you, a familiar hand grabbing the other man's wrist and forcing him to let go of yours. You turn to confirm your doubts and indeed, Sho is right there, looking downright pissed.

"Are you deaf? She said no, so get going."

"Oh, c'mon man, I was just trying to be nic— Ugh!" The ghoul's grip tightens, but he's careful enough not to break any of his bones, even if a part of him wants to.

"Don't care. Fuck off."

Sho abruptly lets go of the stranger, making him stumble against the stool where he had been sitting previously. He tries to look at you, probably to throw some insults, but the delinquent steps in between, blocking him.

"You got something else to say? Spit it out."

The man steps back immediately, muttering under his breath as he cradles his bruised wrist and leaves, not wanting to test the albino's patience any more than he already had.

When Sho turns to you, there's still some anger in his eyes, but his expression is softer, a hand gently being placed on your shoulder to keep you close.

"Let's go, senpai."

The two of you make a beeline for the door, leaving the claustrophobic club to step into a much colder street. The jacket you had chosen for tonight was too thin, and you hugged yourself to keep some warmth, instinctively leaning closer to the ghoul.

"Are you okay?" His hand squeezes your shoulder to get your attention, leading you to meet his blue gaze. You stop a few feet away from the entrance to the club.

"Yes, you got there before it could get worse, so he couldn't..." You trail off when you noticed his raised eyebrow. Ah, that wasn't what he meant. "... A bit shaken, to be honest, but I'll be fine."

He scoffs, clearly still angry about what happened. "I shouldn't have left you alone, sorry."

"Ah, no, no! It's alright, you didn't know it would happen." Before he could retort that it's a common thing to happen at clubs, you change the topic. "What about Leo? Is he okay?"

Sho lets you get away this time, seeing that you don't want to talk about it. "He's fine, chatting with other influencers or something. The bouncers took the other guy out instead, for once."

You hum at his reply while rubbing your arms, too unused to the cold breeze after your time inside the building, Seeing this, the ghoul pulls you closer until you're flushed against his side, angling his body so the breeze won't hit you directly.

"You want me to drive you back?"

His question makes you think. It's tempting, a nice shower and a warm bed would do wonders, but... you were enjoying his closeness too much to be able to part ways so soon.

"No, I can wait until Leo wants to leave. Plus, I don't want him to complain about us leaving without him later."

This close, you can even feel how Sho has to keep himself from snorting at your reply, seeing the real meaning behind your words. You know it wouldn't be too long of a ride and he could come back before the other ghoul wanted to leave, not to mention the fact that you weren't subtle at all with the way you snuggled against his side.

You were lucky he decided to have some mercy and not mention the flush on your cheeks either.

[deadly-zebra]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳

mattheo riddle x reader

contents: fluff, slight innuendos, mentions of violence, hufflepuff!reader, sweet!mattheo, slow-burn, no proper verb tense + not proof-read (sorry guys loll)

synopsis: mattheo finds his way into your dorm after a bad fight, hoping you'll clean him up. lucky for him, your roommate is out.

author's note: sorry if there is too much intro, this is my FIRST fic so i'm still figuring out my style. advice is VERY welcome!

2.1k words

ੈ✩‧₊˚ the cold air of hogwarts pierced through your window. winter nights where often spend under a pile of quilts, or by a roaring fire. even though the dorms where under the ground, the chill managed to creep in. lucky for you, the common room contained a raging hearth that burned throughout the winter months. you peel off the many layers of blanket you slept under and grabbed just one to take with you to the common room. with no roommate to wake, it was easy to creep our of your room and sit by the fire.

apon a couch near the fire, the flames warmed your cold hands. the moment of peace was welcome. it was a time of night when everyone was gone, it was just you all alone in the giant room. the stillness of the night was a perfect escape from the pressures of school.

but out of the silence came a noise, so small you almost didn't hear it over the quite fire. a knocking on the dorm's door. the knocking continues, getting more frantic by the second. you decide it'd be best to answer the door, as to avoid being caught by someone else who might wake up.

you creep silently to the large wooden door, dragging your blanket along with you. with caution, you pull the the metal handle. the sight surprises you, and scares you. the boy you've been silently pinning over meets your eye, bloody and bruised.

"mattheo??" you franticly whisper. he is stood holding his bloody. his nose is busted and have has small cuts all over his body.

"please, can you help?" he mutters. his tired eyes meet your. it's hard to resist.

"of course, come in," you practically dragged him inside and closed the door gently. blood drips off his band-tee and onto the floor.

"you have to be quiet. i'll go get my first aid kit, and you try not to drip over the floor."

mattheo nodded and watched you speed walk over to your room. your interest in medicine had paid off for once. once you have retuned to him, he stood in the same spot you left him, still holding his hand. his sass and nonchalance is gone, and a broken man stand in his place. you sign and guide him to the girls bathroom.

"what happened to you?" you ask. he slides down the wall of a shower stall and mumbles something you can't hear.

"mattheo?"

"my brother," he asserts. "we got in a fight."

"he really did a number on you matty," you swear he smiles slightly at the nickname.

"no shit, mate."

you grab a bottle of alcohol and a piece of cotton to pour it on.

"this might sting," you warn. he winces when you make contact with the cut on his nose. "i told you," you say, and let out a giggle. mattheo roles his eyes, finally getting some of his personality back. you continue to clean his cuts, moving up and down his arm and gently patting alcohol in the wounds. he watches you work, noticing your precision.

"so what was the fight about?" you ask. mattheo's eyes go a bit dull at the question. he looks up at you, staring wayyyy to deeply into your eyes to be just friendly.

"stupid shit, tom is always on about some 'great plan' he has," he say, waving his good hand around. you pull in back down so you can wipe the dirt away.

"did you veto it or something?" you ask jokingly.

"of sort. i don't want to get into it," he says, "just- don't tell anyone. i can't have the headmaster know i got in another fight."

"your secret's safe with me, pretty boy," you say, kind of joking. his eyebrows raise and he laughs at your boldness.

"what did you just call me?" he snorts. you choose not to answer his question, in awe of your own brazenness.

"mattheo stop moving!"

"fine, fine." he slumps back against the shower wall, arms folded, and sighs.

"mattheo, seriously, I can't get to the cuts on your arms and stomach." he stares at you for a few seconds, looking at the cotton you're holding in your hands as you crouch on your knees. his eyes drag up to meet yours, and he slow lifts up his shirt with the one un-cut hand he has. his abs are on full display, and even under the dried blood they still look good.

shit. he's really hot.

"what?" mattheo asks.

your eyes widen.

"nothing." you grab a fresh cotton piece and soak it in more alcohol. with gentle wipes, you scrub the blood from his stomach and abs. he really is gorgeous.

"i have some on my chest, too," he says in a tone you can't quite place.

"alright, can you pull your shirt up some more?"

you expect him to make a joke at that request, but he simply lifts the fabric up more. then, he pulls it over his head.

"can you help with this arm?" he asks. his lifts his bloody hand up, allowing you to pull the shirt off completely. you never thought the first time you'd take his shirt of would be in this context. with nothing covering his top-half, his beauty is more evident to you than ever before. his tired eyes started up at you, silently asking if you were blushing as hard as he was. and you were. unable to hold the intense eye contact, you look down at his cuts tending to them and trying to pretend that you weren't as red as a strawberry right now.

you break the silence. "you're clean, now i just need to bandage everything up."

the room seemed to shrink as to draw closer to him, to get a better look at his wounds.

"you'll need quite a few wraps to secure these big ones." you run a finger down the outside of the slashes along in chest. you hand lingers for a bit too long. you turn around to grab some bandages. facing him once again, you begin to tie and tape the gauze to his body.

"here hold this piece up,"

mattheo nods. then he grabs you hips. your eyes widen in shock as he drags them closer to himself and lets go when your hovering above his lap.

"s'rry," he mutters, "you can't reach well enough when your crouching over me like that,"

you blush even harder, but give in and sit on his lap. you try not to think about how close you two are now, but your mind always seems to wander to... different places. his breath seems to speed up, and suddenly your aware of how cold the tiled bathroom is. you finish bandaging his chest and very fit arms, and move his face.

mattheo eyes lock on you, and he tracks your every movement.

"it's cold, huh?" he says, smiling a little like he just made the joke of the century.

"it is winter mattheo, and night time."

he rolls his eyes at your sarcasm. he is still staring at you. your hands hover above his nose, waiting to place the last small band-aid over his cut.

"close your eyes matty,"

he shuts them and you gently place the band-aid.

"perfect."

you lean back to admire your work. he may be covered in white gauze, but there is no more blood or open wound. but your eye brows furrow as you see a cut you missed. the right side of his lip is split open.

"shit, i missed one."

he smiled.

"i was waiting for you to notice," he says, his grin wide.

your hands reach for his jaw, and you trace the the small cut. his smile drops, and his eye wander to your lips.

"i think it's too small to tape up, it should heal quickly," you say, completely oblivious to where his eyes are glued too.

"mhm," he nods, eyes completely fixed on your face.

"mattheo? are you falling asleep here?"

his eyes close and he shakes his head.

"i might be."

"well you're all done, i can take you back to your dorm if you'd like."

he starts to get up, grabbing what he thinks is the wall, but upon hearing "your dorm," he flinches and accidently turns something behind him. icy water come shooting over both of you as you are harshly reminded that you are in a shower stall.

"merlin!" mattheo curses as he scrambles to to turn the cold water off. the night just got more freezing.

"i'm so sorry," he whispers as he pushes you out of the stall, "are you alright?"

"it's okay, just a bit cold..."

mattheo laughs a bit, but then goes stone face as he realizes this is not the time for him to joke around.

"i can't go back to my dorm, not 'till the morning when there's more people around."

you brush the wet hair out of your face, trying to think about what to do. then you remember something.

"my roommate isn't here," you blurt out. you take a second to hear the implication you just made and then continue, "you can maybe use her bed. and i have some towels in my dorm to warm up with."

"sounds good to me," mattheo nods, "and thank you."

you meet his eyes.

"i-" he stops himself, "i'm really grateful for everything you've done for me."

you blush a bit a lightly push his shoulder. "wow, mattheo being thankful, it looks good on you."

"ok don't make it a thing," he laughs as he starts to follow you to your room.

─────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────

you grab a towel from your closet and toss it to him. mattheo catches it with his good hand and fluffs his hair.

"do you know where your clothes are, in your room?" you ask him.

"yes..." he says, looking confused.

"good, you can summon them."

"right," he murmurs, "i don't really have a wand..."

"what?"

"tom broke it in the fight." he pulled out a cedar wand with a broken tip.

"oh." you say. "i think I can fix it with some tape, it should work for now."

you wrap tape around the tip and hand it to a drenched mattheo. while he tries to summon some clothes you dry yourself as much as you can with a towel.

"mattheo turn around."

he looks up at you and then back down at the pajamas you are grabbing from a drawer.

"ah, of course."

he spins and continues to try and summon clothes of his own.

"yes!" he yells, scaring you as you frantically pull your shirt on. he spins around to face you.

"mattheo!" you scold. his eyes shoot to the floor.

"sorry, but look!" he holds up a pile of clothes. "shit, there's no shirt."

"i guess that wand isn't working too well after all. you can borrow a sweater of mine."

you toss him a hufflepuff sweater and he puts it on. you study his frame. plaid pajama pants and your sweater, it was a look for sure. but your eyes are pulled to his face, his soft jaw, his sweet brown eyes... and the band-aid that was falling off his nose.

"merlin," you curse, and leap to re-stick the falling bandage. the water must have un-stuck the glue. he laughs at your speed, and you can feel his cool breath on your face. your eyes meet once again. the room seems to get a bit warmer.

"seriously, thank you," he whispers, "you mean at lot to me."

silence fills the room as you search your brain for a response.

"no problem," you say. real smooth. internally you face palm but he just chuckles. you realize your hands have been on his jaw, and you slip them down to rest on his shoulders.

he stares at you even harder, and finally makes a move. he callused hands meet you jaw and he pulls you into a kiss. his lips are surprisingly soft and you feel his hand reach to caress your hair.

he pulls away gently and looks at you. and then he laughs. his hand wipes his mouth and you realize the cut on his lip is bleeding. you wipe your own lips and see blood on your hand.

"sorry!" you cry out, scrambling to find a gauze to stop the bleeding.

"it's alright." he laughs some more and pulls your shoulders parallel to his. "i'm fine," he whispers, and pulls you in for another kiss.

"i'm glad you came to me," you speak into his lips.

"i wouldn't have come to anyone else."

author's note: thank you for reading! i know this was kinda long but i loveee a good slow burn.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Dirty Little Spy. | Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Summary: You're a Spy for the Hero Commission posing as a secretary at Katsuki Bakugo's agency to gather his DNA. You've been working to seduce him for months, and he finally gives in on your last day at the office. You end up with a lot more of his DNA than you bargained for. 😬

Important Notes/TW: All characters are A20+, Katsuki is is a Pro Hero, All adults in the story are consenting parties, penetrative sex, MDNI, This is an adult only blog posting mature content

"God, do you know how long I've waited for this?" Katsuki whispers into the side of your neck, his calloused fingers to undo the zip on your jeans as quickly as humanly possible. "Let me just get inside you already. Gonna rearrange your guts."

His voice is harsh, desperate. It's like music to your ears.

You've been a temp in his hero agency office for the better part of the year, and you've been working to seduce the Pro Hero Dynamite all the while. You've been pushing to identify any sort of weakness the hero might have. He's been so resistant - always showing such restraint. If he's attracted to you, he's never showed it. Maybe he doesn't like women? Maybe they should have sent in a handsome young man to do your role?

Even when you strolled into his private office with your blouse unbuttoned, he never batted an eye. Just asked you to review a stack of reports before lunch and then told you to be on your way.

But now that you've completed your mission and quit, now that you're moving on to a different agency and a different set of administrative tasks...well, it seems like he's finally ready do let himself off the leash.

He pushes your sensible work slacks down so quickly you fear he might give you rub burn from the way the material scrapes across the smooth plush of your skin.

"Wait, let me take off my shirt - " You say, hands releasing his broad back and flying to undo your sensible silk work top.

"No time." Katsuki says, unbuttoning his belt and pulling you up onto his tall desk. "Let me take ya like this. I need you just like this."

He shoves his underwear and jeans down to his ankles, his dick springing free from the tight confines of his clothing. His cock is gorgeous (no surprise there - Katsuki Bakugo is an impressive specimen of a man in all regards, after all). But you don't get time to admire it or take any notes, he's already pulling you to the edge of the desk and guiding himself inside. This is all happening so fast, so dirty. It's not the way you wanted it, but you still can't resist the way his big hands push and pull at your skin.

You gasp as his cockhead stretches out your drenched entrance. Jeez he's big. His fat cock is stretching and pulling at your pussy in the most delicious way, and you groan as he instantly begins a steady pace of thrusting. The way he fucks you is contradictory - it has the frenzied energy of a teen trying sex for the first time, but each thrust is controlled and the angle he's using you implies that he's had ample experience.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he slides in and out of you, hands spread wide beneath your ass cheeks as he tries to find the best rhythm for his pleasure.

"Sir, slow down - "

"Don't call me sir, you don't work for me anymore." He growls, shifting his hips and thrusting powerfully into you. He feels so good inside of you, you might cry. You feel a tear run down your cheek, your cheap drugstore mascara starting to run down from the corner of your eye. He smirks, clearly smug at the way he's causing you to come undone.

His speed is so brutal you feel you'll cum any moment, but you want him to slow down so you can really enjoy it, so you can make observations and take mental notes for your mission. But if you're being completely honest with yourself...you want to stretch out time and space so you can spend as much time connected to Katsuki Bakugo as possible.

He thrusts again, lodging himself deep inside you. He leans down so he can whisper harshly in your ear.

"You've been teasing me for a while now, haven't you?" He says, his breath playing at your hair and drifting across the nape of your neck. "But I know what you're really up to. I've known since you started working here. Fuckin' Hero Comission spy scum."

Your blood runs cold in your veins.

What. The. Fuck.

How could he possibly know?

How could he have figured out that you're a spy on the inside for the head of the Hero Commission? You've been so careful to hide it - careful to stick to the boring cover story the Commission fed you all those months ago. You thought you'd made a believable secretary all these months while fulfilling your mission. The Commission has been doing research on top hero quirks - trying to identify ways to medically neutralize heroes if they get too out of hand. Your job was to covertly collect as many DNA samples as possible for testing back at the labs. You thought you had been so careful, so subtle in your espionage...

"Don't worry, I won't blow your cover." Katsuki lifts you an inch or two off the desk and picks up his pace a bit, his cock pulsing in your tight heat as you continue to freak out and figure out the appropriate way to respond. "I saw you trying to get a DNA sample from my water bottle last week and it all clicked in my head. So I figured I'd give you a real good DNA sample the old fashioned way."

You stare at him with wide eyes and he smirks again, the movement of his hips starting to stagger as he gets close to his orgasm. He reaches between you and pulses a fingertip against your clit, and you're almost instantly undone. You cum hard, your legs shaking and your head spinning as you try to reconcile all that he's just revealed.

"You like that? You dumb little spy." He teases, huffing into your neck as he feels your pussy pulse and pull around his hard dick. His legs are shaking, but his voice is even as he mocks you. "Thought you were so good at your little job. Did you even realize you filed at least half of your paperwork incorrectly?" He lets his teeth graze your neck, he takes a moment to suck and leave a small hickey to show how he's claimed you. He's close to cumming, his voice coming out in a strangled whisper as he ruts desperately into you. "And everyone noticed you touching all my gear like some sort of psychopath. I should've fired you months ago." Your pussy kicks with each of his thrusts, and you feel him finish inside you.

He grunts as he cums, his cock pumping you full of his thick, hot ejaculate. You've never taken a bare cock before, and the warm sticky feeling of Katsuki Bakugo's cum filling you up is both foreign and incredibly fucking hot. You want to beg for more, want to ask him to do this to you daily. You wish you could stay as his slutty little secretary forever, having him stretch you out with his thick cock as he degrades you and lists out your many faults.

"Take that back to The Commission." He whispers hoarsely in your ear as he gives you one final thrust, pushing his cum deeper into you. "Tell them I'll creampie the next pretty little agent they send to keep an eye on me, too.

You let out a soft noise when he pulls out, mourning the loss of his slick dick stuffed deep inside you. He rolls his eyes as he places you gently back on his desk, shifting some paperwork away from the sticky mess he's made of you.

"Pathetic." He scoffs, reaching down to pull up his underwear. He buttons his jeans as you just sit there, wide-eyed and fucked out. "I thought you were supposed to be the best."

Your cheeks burn with shame and you feel his sticky cum pooling around you on the desk. You feel both blissed out and ashamed - an interesting combination you've never experienced before. You want him to leave you here to stew in your feelings, but you also desperately want him to fuck you again.

The Commission will be pleased to know Katsuki Bakugo can be seduced - it means that at some base level, he can be controlled with sex. They'll also be thrilled when you bring home a sample of his seed. You'll probably get a raise.

He runs his hands through his thick blond hair absentmindedly before straightening his shirt. He turns to leave the office, making it to the door in two large strides. He doesn't spare you another glance as he exits, leaving you with a final sentence: "There's disinfectant in the cabinet. Wipe down my desk before you go. I better not see you lurking around my agency again."

[vii0so]

[ BSD 124.5 Spoilers ]

Thoughts, Theories and Analysis

Let's start with the most urgent matter, and no, I'm not talking about the monster that looks like Scaldera and had me saying "wtf is that!?" out loud when I first saw it.

200 seconds.

That's 3 minutes and 33 seconds. By the end of the chapter I'm sure those 33 seconds have passed, so 3 minutes.

In 3 minutes, Fyodor will be gone. That certainly doesn't leave much time to destroy the aircraft. But there's always a chance, right?

The bookmark and the book exist so why not miracles too? It's not like it'd be anything new.

Fyodor knows, that when playing any game against an opponent, you must consider every possibility. Forming a plan after taking into account any possible chance of failure is the only way to counter unpredictable variables.

Hence why he summoned the monster. To delay any effort to destroy the aircraft, making it near impossible for his opponents to even grasp a chance at victory.

But what exactly even is this thing? It seems like a version of Ame-no-Gozen but it should be dead now, right? Well, I believe what died was only the ability to manipulate space-time, not the being itself.

It has no life force sustaining it and so is now in its most basic form.

Am I the only one who finds it having hair strange? I thought that the two hairs sticking out looked a lot like Fukuchi's and by extension Ame-no-Gozen's when he used his life force to take form.

It seems like its appearance has been influenced by the form it had previously taken, or I'm overthinking it. The rest of the hair is nothing like Fukuchi's...unless it's taken more than one person's life force and therefore their form before and this current form's appearance has been influence and is a combination of all prior forms it has taken.

─────────────✧

On another note, may Ueda, who was forced to stay alive for 1500 years because of the seal, finally rest in peace.

First appearing in Chapter 123, we only knew them for 4 chapters (or 2, if you merge the second halves (.5) with their first halves), but it was clear that they were suffering, much like many - if not all - of the characters in the BSD universe. Now they are free, no guilt, no regrets, just peace.

Also, is this the first time we've seen someone ascend after death?

I just find it interesting. I thought that maybe because abilities are tied to the soul and Ueda had just basically killed their own ability, that that's why their death was like this...but I'm really not sure.

─────────────✧

So, what will Atsushi and Akutagawa do now?

Well, maybe they'll make the monster destroy the aircraft by guiding it to it, standing near or on it so when the monster goes to eat them it will chomp down on the aircraft instead.

I guess it'll depend on how much control Fyodor has over it. If it gets close to the aircraft, can he will it away quickly enough? If so, they'd have to trick not only the monster but Fyodor too. Maybe covering the the windows.

One thing is for sure, that 3 minute timer isn't getting longer. Whatever happens, I believe it'll all take place next chapter.

...Unless they somehow play the time travel card again. Infinite time glitch. I guess as long as it doesn't become a time loop they'll be fine.

[helpmyinterestsareverywhere]

Hey.

...So ending 7 huh. - Forget-me-not?

Two and a Half Studios how could you do this to us.

[lokissweater]

a good man

{bodyguard!kento nanami x rich girl f!reader}

summary: kento nanami has been your appointed bodyguard since the age of nineteen. his poised, calm, respectable mannerisms having you falling to your knees over him as he was completely different than any of the other boys in your life… for he was a man— taking care of your rowdy party girl behaviors and guiding you with the best advice and judgement he could possibly muster, and you loved him, gutted over the fact that he possibly only thought of you as a spoiled little brat who was useless and incompetent, as a client, and you wanting to be more than just that to him… except you were. for kento had already fallen over his knees for you.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, BRATTY AFFF RICH GIRL SPOILED READER she’s a little baddie o yes, LOWKEEEYYY brat tamer kento MEEOOOWWW, FLUUFFF GALLOOREE!!, slight angst!!, kento is SOOO SOOFTTT AND A LIL GENTLEMAANN, blowjob YUM, oral m receiving, mentions of doing the sex, deep throating, SEDUCTIVE AF READER BRO, cursing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, sexual themes, kento is older than reader by three years, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 20.3k (i yap i fear)

authors note: I NEED A FUCKING MAN !!!! LIKE KENTO !!! RAAAAHDVSJSBSJSJ this BEAUTIFUL precious concept was a blend and mixy of multiple requests i got for sir nanami blended into one!! :,)) i hope i did you guys justice to those who requested and sent in ideas my loves !!! <3333 AND I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE ITTT JUST AS MUCH AS I DOOO AAHHH !!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO SO SOOO MUCHHH MWAAHHH !! <3333

“please don’t do that.”

you were undoubtedly the most defiant, stubborn girl kento had ever met.

“and why not?” you pouted. “it’s just for a little bit… and i can’t leave my friend hanging when she’s dealing with such a crisis! she needs my help.”

“your help.” kento repeated. “she needs your help going to a party…. at one in the morning.”

“it’s not a party it’s a small gathering—”

“y/n the hour is ungodly right now…” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “i don’t believe this is very wise.”

you finished applying your blush and stepped back from your large vanity, quickly placing your brush back in it’s holder and grabbing your bottle of perfume, spritzing it.

“it’s fine ken!” you looked up and smiled. “i’ll just be gone for a little while i’ll be back before—”

“i’m sorry—” he held a palm up. “you’ll just be gone? darling, you realize i have to go with you.”

“but whyyy?” you mumbled, slouching dramatically and chucking your perfume bottle on your bed. “two hours! just give me two hours i promise i’ll be back—”

“i’m afraid not.”

“whyyyy!” you whined again, and kento only looked at you with a straight stoic face.

“because it’s my job to go with you and you know that.”

and you’d always been defiant and stubborn, kento having known you since you were a little girl as both his and your father were family friends for years, your upbringing a little different from his as your father was exponentially wealthy and owned various companies and properties, his parents just so happening to work for him and gain special bonds and camaraderie over the time of your growing lives.

though kento was only three years older than you— the gap nothing notable or too drastic, it sure as hell felt like it with how bratty and rebellious you were sometimes on a day to day basis that he had to bare witness of since the age of fourteen.

so why kento thought of you so much when you were the epitome of a spoiled princess… was a little unclear to him.

or maybe he did know exactly why— the reasoning transparently clear, to a fucking T actually… yet his pride and the oath he had set with your father the minute kento started pursuing his desired career after high school, hindered him from ever admitting anything to anyone. especially you.

and because he constantly ignored the way he felt, he was regrettably perplexed every time he was around you— which was literally every single second of every waking day since the moment he received his protection licensing… for kento was your bodyguard, hired by your father who saw his interests in technical protection training, and trusted no other man around his daughter other than kento himself, encouraging him to pursue it as a career in the promise that he would guarantee him a position— one with a pay that would have him set for the rest of his life so long as his precious little daughter was happy and safe.

and kento took the offer without so even as a twitch in his serious expression for two reasons.

the first was the obvious, to solidify proper employment for himself in the career that he’d always paid particular interest in ever since he was a kid— to make a man out of himself and work under prestigious and professional levels of security with someone, your father, who’s orders of authority were equivalent to a president, and a man he admired like no other and dreamed of owning a business that was as fruitful as his.

and the other… was to keep an eye on you.

you were reckless, bratty, naive, troublesome, silly, and never took absolutely anything seriously— all things that worried kento to no end anytime you so even managed to slip from his sharp attentive line of sight since the both of you were young.

and you escaping him happened a little more often than he’d like to admit.

like now.

“y/n—”

kento sharply turned upon hearing your snickering little giggles zooming past him and trailing from down the hall already, him swiftly retrieving his blazer that he had previously set on one of your lounge chairs and settling it over his arm, long and hasty steps striding out of your bedroom and down the hall, him peaking in several dark open doors and hallways of your ginormous mansion of a home on his way— the clicking of your heels and you still giggling serving as a guide for him to find you.

he sighed.

“darling, this isn’t going to change the fact that i still have to accompany you—”

kento rounded the corner and entered one of the many lounge area rooms your father used for business meetings and partnerships, your little head poking out from behind one of the large sofas with a disgruntled pouty look.

“says who?”

“says me.” he took the blazer from his arm and extended it, shaking it out a little and preparing to put it on. “and your father.”

you let out a tiny grumble, getting up off your knees and standing.

“but don’t you wanna go to sleep ken?”

“very much so.”

“so then go! i’m giving you permission heh!” you chirped, sending him a striking smile. “i won’t tell my father! or anyone! you deserve a good nights rest—”

“i’m going with you and that’s final.”

you threw your head back and groaned in frustration, kento finding your tantrum a little amusing as he chuckled and shrugged on his blazer.

“you want to go to this event, yes?”

you funnily slugged on over to his side with dragging steps, eyes to the floor. 

“mhm…”

“so then enough fighting and let’s go.” he stepped to the side and gently ushered you forward. “i’d like to be back before your father wakes up.”

you walked forward and out of the lounge room, the both of you beginning your journey down the hall and towards the grand staircase, kento following behind you as you still internally huffed and puffed about him coming along.

your refutes to kento joining you weren’t because you didn’t like him or anything like that… it was quite the opposite actually.

you were obsessed with that man.

“you scare my friends you know…”

the side of his lip quirked.

“do i?”

“mhm.”

“how so sweetheart?”

“i think it’s your face.” you turned your head around and looked behind you as you walked, hands wringing behind your back with a cute grin. “it’s so serious. and it might be because you’re always staring them down whenever they hang out with me.”

kento calmly walked ahead of you and stepped down a few steps, his hand automatically coming up to assist you and you taking it as you carefully descended down the steps, a gentle act he always did for you.

he pursed his lips. 

“i’m simply doing my job… but i suppose i could lay off a bit.”

you giggled. “no it’s okay ken! i agree. they just don’t know you like i do.”

ever since you practically met him you were obsessed— him being the most poised and respectful piece of hunk to ever grace your life, as kento was so unbelievably different from all of the other straight up boys in your life that deemed themselves to be men, when in reality they didn’t even come close to that whatsoever.

kento nanami was the definition of a man.

and out of everything that you’ve ever received on a silver platter with zero hesitation since technically birth… you wanted him the most.

except you were convinced he wasn’t obsessed with you like you were with him.

because the second kento became your bodyguard at the age of literal nineteen, there wasn’t ever a moment that you remember where he wasn’t with you and pulled to your side like a magnet— guarding and watching your every move and making sure that you were out of harms way no matter what, all things that were automatic and essentially part of the job description.

but you feared that it was just that.

that kento didn’t view you the way you viewed him… that you were just a client to him and that the reason he was always around was because he had to be, and not because he wanted to.

you feared that kento only saw you as some helpless spoiled girl who couldn’t do anything for herself and therefore always needed guidance, and you also feared that because he’d known you since you were little and became your bodyguard when you were sixteen, that he still saw you as a sixteen year old and not the full grown woman that you were now.

the thought was mortifying to you.

and you wondered if kento had ever thought about you as something more than just— a client? maybe.. maybe as a lover?

did he at least view you as a friend?

but more importantly, if he wasn’t your bodyguard… would he stay? 

kento assisted you down to the very last step as you shook away your thoughts, the both of you making your way out through the front glass double doors and over to his car in the open driveway, a sleek and shiny black luxury SUV that you always preferred to sit in rather than your own vehicle as his little passenger princess— always and forever and at times putting up a fight when your father would make you drive instead of kento, spouting some nonsense about how he didn’t want you to forget how to drive and become an incompetent girl.

and you’d each time just scoff and roll your eyes— your father always looking for ways to jab scoldings at you and fuss over every choice you’d make regardless of how big or small it was, believing you to be an incompetent girl anyways and you choosing to ignore him and scowl as you moved behind kento’s big buff frame to hide, him knowing to take over and speak for you whenever you did, as your father listened to him better than he did you ever since you were young.

kento in a way also scolded you often and fussed over your choices… but he was gentle. never raising his voice at you or overstepping any boundaries that made you feel like you were stupid and incapable of things, him always giving you the chance to fix it or refute with an open mind and heart to hear you out… and you loved kento. that was a given.

and your dramatic self deemed that the day kento yelled at you for the first time for whatever reason— was the day that you died.

kento smoothly smiled over what you said with closed lips and opened the car door for you, you getting in and pinching the skirt of your flowy mesh dress to readjust once you were seated, straightening it up over your legs as he rounded over and got in the drivers seat.

“i know a way you can lay off a bit so you don’t scare off my friends tonight ken!”

he started the engine and flickered on the high beams, your eyes squinting at the sudden brightness ahead of you.

“and that is..?”

you grinned and leaned over the center console, placing your elbow on it and propping your chin up with your palm, him looking at you expectantly.

so handsome.

“why don’t you stare at me instead of staring at them!”

kento breathed in as he looked away, steering around and out of the driveway while your close proximity and sweet expensive perfume wafted all around him— filling up his every system with everything that was wonderfully you as he tried hard not to let it show.

“i believe i already do just that.” he spoke. “it’s my job to watch you darling.”

“okay then watch me harder.”

he blinked, your wording somehow twinging a sense of provocativeness when it wasn’t anything like that at all, and he wanted to wash his brain out with holy water for thinking of something inappropriate like that with you.

but you leaned even closer, lips by his ear as he turned the steering wheel to make an easy left.

“you’re supposed to have eyes only for me right?”

kento swallowed.

“i’m supposed to have eyes everywhere.”

you playfully rolled your eyes and leaned back a bit. “okay… but maybe for tonight, just me!”

“i’m afraid if it’s just you i won’t be able to watch for any other signs of abnormality—”

“oh my god booo!” you huffed and plopped back down in your seat, arms crossing as you stared ahead. “you’re no fun…”

kento chuckled and lifted his arm, patting your head and you blushing before he placed his hand back on the gear shift, the only thing on your mind now was how much you wanted to stuff his big fingers in your mouth—

“the event is still the one on melrose street, correct?”

your eyes snapped in his direction. “huh? oh yes! yes it is.”

he pursed his lips, an uncertain look on his face as you faltered and furrowed your brows.

“what ken? what’s wrong?”

“is it the same host and organization as last time?”

“umm…” you pulled your phone out from your purse and scrolled to the initial invite you had received through a friend, perfectly manicured nails tapping away. “uh huh! i’m pretty sure… how come?”

“i don’t think it’d be very wise to go… you got extremely inebriated the last time we went.”

you snorted and waved him off. “that’s because it was my friends birthday ken. i was celebrating!”

“you barfed in a bush as soon as we got home.”

“part of the experience!”

kento shook his head and sighed through his nose, a small smile on his face as he peaked over at you from the side.

“rowdy little girl.”

little girl.

and you felt an unpleasant tug at your heart, you pursing your lips and wanting to defy what he called you.

“i was fine after though, was i not?”

you suddenly grabbed his hand and dropped it down on your exposed thigh, his rough hand making contact with your skin as he accidentally jerked the steering wheel and looked at you with bewildered eyes, you only throwing your head back and laughing.

“what?” you spoke in between giggles. “i’m cold! and your hand’s so warm—”

“honey—”

“your job is to take care of me right?” you sweetly smiled, and he felt a flutter of familiar yet confusing affection swirl up in his chest at the sight. “and you’re doing just that!”

kento cleared his throat and nodded, hand staying on your thigh and you giddy on the inside as he held it.

“just know that i have a blanket in the back in case my hand doesn’t suffice.” he mentioned, pulling up to a gated community. “the weather is a bit colder these days.”

your eyes softened, staring at the side of his chiseled jaw and face as he exchanged a few words with the security guard at the front, flashing his ID before the guard gave him the all clear and muttered something over his walkie talkie, the gates slowing sliding open as a result.

“why do you have a blanket in the back ken?” you asked softly and looked down, the tip of your index finger tracing over the prominent veins on the back of his hand.

“for you.” he replied. “you get cold frequently.”

you grinned.

“awww you remembered!—”

you unbuckled your seatbelt, jumped up from your seat, and flung your arms around his neck and practically stuffed his cheek up against your chest as you gushed, kento’s eyes blinking wide eyed and cheeks fucking flaring as he tried to keep steady hands on the wheel and not swerve into the garbage bins in front of the designated mansion, music already blaring through and seeping through the vents of the car as he fumbled to shift the gear into park— stiffening the hell out of his neck and not daring to turn his head even the slightest in your direction in fear of facing your breasts head on.

“i— i appreciate the sentiment sweetheart—”

you pulled back a tiny bit, your arms still tightly locked around his neck but giving him enough space to turn his head to look up at you now, your twinkling hyper eyes shining even through the darkness of the car, kento almost forgetting about the close proximity between the two of you entirely, and also almost forgetting about how this was— regrettably… considered to be inappropriate.

he was your bodyguard, he was supposed to protect you, not think about the way your perfect smile right now was so incredibly soul crushing and doing it in just the right way too— suffocating his entire being as he tried hard again, in real time, to kick those disrespectful thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on what he was meant to be doing and thinking… all of which pertained to his guidance for you, and your safety, most of all.

but you were beautiful. 

there was no denying that.

“you know me best out of anyone ken.”

and he did. he truly truly did.

but to kento, you were that forbidden fruit, cast away up into the highest of branches and dangling off of the tallest most unreachable tree of all— glimmering against the sun, magnificent… waiting to be picked by the person who dared to and claim it as their own without a single worry of the troubles that came with ravishing it.

but claiming and ravishing that forbidden fruit definitely came with it’s dire consequences, and kento nanami was an honorable man. 

if he were to give in to his pulsing desires for you, desires that he couldn’t even exactly make sense of as he continued to manifest total and utter blockage in his mind to prevent those thoughts from seeping through, not only would he deal with the embarrassing repercussions with your father— his boss, but inevitably drag you down with him too, as he knew your father has always been rather harsh with you.

and you didn’t deserve to be dragged down just because he couldn’t control his emotions.

you frowned, tilting your head as you assessed kento’s strange far off look.

“ken?” you asked. “kenny ken?”

“eh?” he blinked rapidly. “oh i’m sorry y/n. i was… thinking.”

“thinking?” 

you let him go and sat back in your seat, the warmth from your arms dissipating and the goosebumps around his neck prominent now by the chilliness of the car.

“thinking about what?” you quipped, smiling again. “about meee?”

night and day.

“i’m afraid not.” he switched off the ignition and held the keys in his hand. “more about how you should be at home and in bed and most definitely not here.”

you pouted, slumping in your seat as you watched him get out of the car and walk over to your side, opening your door for you and offering a hand for you to take.

“but ken i’m helping a friend.” you took his hand and carefully stepped out, him closing the door behind you as you began walking up the sidewalk with kento following close behind you, the car beeping and flashing its lights to signify he had locked it.

“honey, your friend is a grown woman.” you both walked up the steps and continued down the long wide driveway, other guests traveling alongside you towards the mansion. “she doesn’t need moral support from you to attend an event.”

“yeah and i don’t need a bodyguard for every little thing i do, do i?” you countered, slowing down your steps a little and nudging your shoulder with his. “hm?”

he gave you a deadpanned look.

“actually, you do.”

you scoffed. “no i do not.”

the two of you entered through the grand entrance— doors already open and with a set of security guards on each side as you passed them, kento’s already alert senses amplified now that you both were in an unpredictable loud environment such as this, and with way too many people for kento to keep track of besides yourself as he scanned the area, ticking the usual and automatic tiny boxes in his head that indicated the area was alright for the time being.

“if my friend is such a grown woman, then so am i!” you yelled over the music as you walked through the mansion to get to the pool area outside, passing by several caterers and butlers with small appetizer dishes on silver trays or champagne glasses, you taking one as your gaze switched between person to person to see if you could try and find anyone you recognized.

kento shook his head a little.

contrary to your popular belief, you never acted like a grown woman sometimes— constantly rebellious and spontaneous with no hesitations to do anything remotely reckless… and that worried him to absolutely no end as he was living in constant stress over something happening to you— something that he could easily prevent and steer you away from because that’s what he was fucking there for.

but you were always against it, and he didn’t know why when it was simply just protection.

upon entering the pool area, your eyes lit up at the rowdy scene before you— party guests jumping into the pool in full fledged clothing or throwing each other in, the bar at the end of the backyard lively and busy with multiple individuals already drunk off of their minds as they clumsily passed by you and nearly tumbled you over, kento each time quick to grab your shoulders and gently pull you away so they’d just about miss you and continue on.

and the minute he caught sight of your group of friends off to the side of the bubbling jacuzzi right before you did, every single one of them already inebriated and rambunctious, he knew he was in for a night of chasing you around and getting you to sober up a little to refrain yourself from running across the lawn in only your undergarments like the last party you both attended.

“y/n! hi!” one of your friends slightly slurred, the one with the ‘crisis’, reaching behind her to grab a red solo cup of god knows what and passing it to you. “here! i just got some from the kitchen!”

“what is it?” you laughed, on the verge of placing the brim to your lips when kento suddenly nudged you, gently prying it away from your fingers and lifting it up to his nose for inspection, you playfully rolling your eyes as you turned back to your friend.

“dunno!” she shrugged, flashing you a wobbly grin. “it’s a mix of tequila aaanddd… cranberry tonic! yeah!”

“smells awfully strong.” kento muttered in your ear, passing the cup back to you. “just moderate your intake.”

“okay dad.” you mocked, the little side smile on your face never failing to deactivate any further scoldings from him about how you shouldn’t drink that mix and maybe get something else, him deciding to just let you have fun regardless of the work he was about to be put through… as it was hard for kento to say no to you at times anyways.

you brought the rim back to your lips and took a sip, your face immediately scrunching up and gagging.

“the fuck is this?” you placed a hand over your mouth. “tastes nothing like cranberry and just straight vodka—”

you ended up drinking the entire cup and two more fills after that, kento each time gently advising you not to and that you’d had enough, but you only pouting and bratty and defying him with every attempt he made at pulling the drink away from you, a water bottle in hand that he’d snagged from one of the coolers as he swiftly moved through the twists and turns of the crowd to stay caught up with you, a skill he was an expert at at this point considering how often you disappeared from his line of sight.

“sweetheart please—” kento caught you by the waist just as you were about to literally jump in the pool, you giggling and hiccuping as he dragged you away. “let’s take a seat for a moment alright? you need to drink water.” 

“what i need is a teeny weeny kiss from you ken!”

he faltered, eyes dropping to the ground as he continued to half drag and half carry your body to a nearby table away from the commotion by the pool, setting you down on a chair.

“you need water.” he pushed as he knelt down on a knee in front of you, unscrewing the cap. “and i’m forbidding you from attending any events like this for a month.”

“a month?!” you whined, head dramatically falling back in desperation. “but why? what did i do?!”

“i told you to moderate your intake.” he gently grabbed your jaw and brought the water bottle to your lips, carefully holding it up for you to drink. “you were just about to jump in the pool darling and ruin your dress.”

lowering the bottle, your cheeks cutely puffed up with water as you shook your head side to side.

you swallowed. “lies. i was simply walking!”

he fixed the strap of your dress that was halfway sliding off, pulling it back over your shoulder.

“yes into the pool.” he brought the water bottle back to your lips and you drank some more before he lowered it again. “you need to be more careful y/n.”

you pouted. “are you mad at me ken?”

“not mad just quite stressed—”

“pull my dress up and spank me then.”

kento slapped a hand over his eyes and shook his head, cheeks buzzing pink at your ludicrous statement.

“don’t say things like that honey.”

“and why not?” you tilted your head, pearly white teeth glimmering against the warm lights of the backyard as he dropped his hand. “thought you loved me.”

“please sober up.” he breathed out exhaustedly, heart hammering against his fucking chest as he made you drink water again. “before you say something silly again—”

you abruptly pulled back and a few droplets of water dribbled down your chin, kento quick to grab the handkerchief in his suit to pat you dry as you narrowed your eyes.

“you think loving me is silly?” you muttered, a little slur at the end of your sentence.

“of course not darling.” he spoke softly, placing the handkerchief down on the table behind you. “the other thing you said was silly—”

“what— spanking me?” you lit up again. “but it’s hot. and i want it. you should do it once we get to the car—”

kento slapped a hand over your mouth this time, wide frantic eyes looking around to see if anyone had heard your loud lewd blabbering, his face absolutely fucking red at this point as he tried not to vividly imagine what you had just said… and pathetically failing at it too.

“enough. we’re going home. you have brunch with the monroe’s tomorrow.”

“nuh uh!”

you pulled his hand away from your mouth and gripped the edges of your chair, trying to cement yourself to it as he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled and tugged, you laughing when he’d manage to of course— lift you up… but the chair along with it as well.

“let go please.”

“nope!”

“i said let go y/n.”

“if you give me a kiss!”

kento put you back down and sighed.

“you are unbelievably inebriated.”

“and you are unbelievably handsome.” you cheesed as you got closer, your nose brushing against his and kento’s breath catching in his throat, stiffening up.

“darling you don’t know what you’re saying—”

“yes i do.” you spoke, endearingly nudging your nose softly with his and kento’s eyes warming at the act. “you’re gods favorite.”

hopeless hopeless girl…

his eyes sinfully flickered down to your pretty lips, plushy and delightful as they perfectly stretched in such a way to form a striking smile that always sent men to their knees wherever you both went, him baring witness to it all as your bodyguard… and him included— falling to his knees over you.

for kento was just as hopeless as you.

but he was better at ignoring it until it became this puzzling blur in his brain that confused the ever living shit out of him.

“let’s go home.”

his breath fanned against your lips and you softly shook your head.

“kiss me then we’ll go.”

kento’s forehead fell against yours, eyes closing in borderline pain as his big hands came up to cup your cheeks, your own eyes loopily widening with overactive exciting thoughts over what was about to transpire.

if he was about to kiss you… could this mean he didn’t view you as just a client? as a little girl? but a woman?

was he considering it? did you have a chance? was he actually about to fucking kiss you?—

kento sharply breathed in and turned your head slightly to the side, planting his lips hard on your cheek and him unmoving for a moment, you still wide eyed and shocked as your cheek mushed up against the force of his mouth.

he pulled back with a smack! and stood, hand extending out for you to take.

“ready now?”

your fingers slowly came up to the side of your face in a complete daze, because though it wasn’t a full blown kiss, the linger of his lips was still there even after the gesture was long over, your little cheek tingling and warm.

you nodded, taking his hand and attempting to stand but reeling over as you did, your head in complete drunken disarray as kento’s arms quickly shot out and caught you from falling face first on the ground.

“i can’t—” you giggled, hiccuping between each laugh. “i can’t walk ken. and my feet hurt.”

“i’m aware.” he sighed, sitting you back down on the chair and kneeling again, grabbing your ankle.

“what are you doing?” you asked, watching the way he propped up your foot and tugged at the clasp on your heels, carefully sliding it off and beginning to do the same with the other.

“you’re in pain, yes?” he slipped your other heel off and stood, placing your heels on a nearby table before positioning himself next to you, sliding a hand under your knees. “put your arms around my neck sweetheart.”

you did as told, your little heart singing happy drunken tunes over him being such a gentleman and taking care of you in the way that he was, you knowing in the morning you’d regret it and be embarrassed, but choosing to bask in the moment for the meantime and deal with the horrific hungover consequences later.

kento easily lifted you with only one fucking arm supporting you under your knees as you held on, his other hand grabbing your heels before weaving through the other tables and venturing out of the pool area, everybody else too inebriated to care or notice some big bulky man carrying you out through the backyard and inside the mansion, your head resting against his chest.

“are you alright?” he asked, taking a quick glance down at you as he reached the grand entrance to exit. “do you feel ill?”

“no i’m okay.” you smiled. “just thinking about the fact that you’re a cheater.”

he chuckled. “a cheater? in what way?”

kento carefully stepped down the steps and began his walk across the spacious lawn back to the car, you tightening your grip on his neck and wanting him to hold you like this forever.

“the deal was for a kiss.”

“and i gave you one.” he softly smiled, squeezing your thigh a little in emphasis.

“on the cheek!” you retorted. “i wanted one on the mouth.”

kento blushed furiously and looked away, trying to straighten himself up as he walked down the sidewalk with you in his arms.

“you didn’t specify darling.”

“yeaahhh right.” you mumbled, watching the lights of his car flash up ahead as it unlocked by the click of kento’s keys, him coming up to the passenger side and opening the door. “just say you’re repulsed by me.”

he scoffed. “you’re saying silly things again.”

“the proof is in the pudding.”

kento carefully bent and set you down on your seat, placing your heels next to you on the floor and straightening out the skirt of your dress for you. 

“the proof is that you’re drunk. i’m not making any moves like that when you’re not in the correct state of mind.”

you gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth. “are you saying you would have? if i was sober? did you bring my water with you? i need to drink it right now where is it—”

“dear god i did not say that.” he closed the door and came round to the other side, an amused little smile on his lips as he got in. “and i’m sorry but i left it behind.”

“kentooo!” you whined. “now how else are you supposed to kiss me?”

he shakily pressed the ‘on’ button for the ignition and looked away, your bold words and requests and moves serving as sheer torment to him as they one after the other kept being thrown at his face, him aware this is how you usually were anyways, but ten times unbelievably worse now that you were intoxicated.

and kento was growing weaker.

“i’m not supposed to do anything.” he backed out of the parking space and sped off. “and it’s nearly four in the morning y/n. you have brunch with the monroe’s at ten and you’re supposed to be up by eight.”

you groaned, head dropping back against the headrest as you crossed your arms. 

“i never wanted to go to that in the first place.” you muttered. “the monroe’s and their girl friends and whoever else is going are a bunch of boring bitches. all they talk about is what their daddies just bought them.”

the yearly monroe brunch was a way for you and the other daughters of your fathers various business partners to bond and maintain connections, some sort of peace treaty between them all so long as their little preppy daughters were kept satisfied and spoiled, your father forcing you to go every year and demanding you to keep friendships with them all, insisting that it would serve beneficial to him with their parents and help nourish the business even more than it already was.

you genuinely liked the monroe daughters and the rest of the girls at first, sixteen year old you seeking their validation and acceptance for years and constantly following after every little thing that they did, afraid of slipping up and landing in their rotten graces as soon as you did anything that would upset them… until they started badmouthing kento.

after that you didn’t give a fuck. 

because anyone that was so willing as to talk bad about such a respectful and kind man as kento to you, was someone who immediately feel in your rotten graces, each and every one of them doing so the minute they started calling him weird for constantly following you around, putting him down for it and saying he should find something better to do than be your bodyguard, and that you didn’t need such high class protection and deeming it unnecessary.

whether they were jealous of the fact that you had a bodyguard and they didn’t was mystery to you, but ever since that day, you despised the yearly monroe brunch, you now aware of who they truly were and realized how blind you were to it just because you were seeking their validation— wanting nothing to do with them from that point forward and begging your father to just let you skip out and that they were better off without you there anyways.

but he never listened.

kento laughed, nodding curtly over what you said. “although true, you still have to go honey.”

“i don’t know why my father can’t just piss off.” you sighed and looked out the window, cars zooming past you as he drove down the freeway. “i really don’t see the point in me going.”

“you’re an important asset.” he spoke. “all of the daughters coming together is tradition.”

“what— to sit there and drink tea and eat muffins? stupidest tradition i’ve ever heard ken.”

he chuckled, reaching over to pat your thigh and your cheeks going pinky as he did so, your drunken mind still somehow clearly recalling when he had his warm hand on you earlier in the car prior to the party.

he went to retract his hand and you quickly stopped him, timidly placing it back on your thigh and settling your hand over his big one, the both of you nervously avoiding eye contact and choosing not to say anything.

kento understood wholeheartedly why you hated going to the monroe brunch so much, for he wasn’t particularly a fan of hearing them talk for hours about who’d they just dumped or what they’d just bought, and he sympathized with you— really, your father although a man he admired for his work ethic and sought after for his approval, was unrighteously stoic with you and always dismissed your thoughts and opinions, the fact saddening kento whenever he witnessed it first hand.

“you’ll be alright.” he spoke up quietly again, noticing the way you were dozing off a little in your seat. “it’s just for brunch. you won’t have to worry about seeing them again until next year.”

“you mean until the dinner party we’re hosting next week.” you sleepily muttered, eyes closed as both of your hands laid over his that was on your thigh, holding it almost as if you were afraid that kento would pull away, his eyes softening at the thought.

“ah, that’s right.” he pulled into your gated community, the security guard already recognizing kento and his car as he merely waved and pressed the button to open the gate, driving through once it did entirely. “i had forgotten.”

“mmm..” you hummed, and he smiled, facing the road again and turning the wheel with every curve and turn of your neighborhood, your dimly lit mansion coming into view eventually and him pulling up to park in your grandiose driveway next to you car, turning off the ignition.

you laid still and pretty in your seat, chest slowly rising and falling as you softly breathed through your nose, you in a drunken slumber as kento quietly got out of the car and went over to your side, opening your door.

“darling.” he whispered, shuffling an arm under your knees and the other on your back. “i need to carry you up, okay? hold onto me please.”

you mumbled incoherently and did so, your arms limply wrapping around his neck as he carried you out of the car and shut the door with a push from his leg, locking his car and the little horn going off again as he hoisted you up, walking up the stone path of your driveway and up to the grand double doors— one of your housekeeping staff already there holding the door open for you both, them also used to your late night partying and shenanigans.

“thank you.” he whispered gratefully as he passed, and they nodded, locking up the house behind you as kento continued on up the staircase and down the spacious hallway, his dress shoes clicking against the shiny flooring and echoing across the silence as he reached your bedroom.

he carefully set you down on your bed once inside, you groggily rubbing your eyes as he stepped back and over to your large vanity, rummaging through your things and drawers while knocking a few nail polishes and perfumes over— various clatterings and kento cursing under his breath over the noise, it making you sleepily giggle.

“what are you looking for ken?” you whispered, one of your eyes tiredly peeking open.

“your— ah… i’m afraid i can’t remember what it’s called—”

he gestured to his face. “you remove your makeup with it sweetheart.”

you closed your eye again. “oh my wipes..? they’re in the bottom drawer to your left.”

he opened the corresponding drawer and reached in, taking out your makeup remover wipes and walking back over to you, peeling open the packing and sliding an individual white wipe out, you lifting a hand out to grab it but stopping once he moved it away from you.

you drowsily looked up at him, about to speak until he took your chin in between his fingers and tilted you up, him bending a bit and lifting his hand to wipe off your makeup, delicately removing it with precision as you tiredly let a small smile grow on your lips.

“i can do it ken it’s okay.”

he shook his head, you closing your eyes as he wiped off your mascara. “oh it’s alright you’re exhausted… and i’ve seen you do it quite a few times.”

you peaked your other eye open, his handsome face so unforgettable against the moonlight streaming through your balcony doors that your little sleepy heart started gushing over literally just who he was, your head leaning into his touch.

“kay…”

he finished wiping the rest of it off after a minute, tossing it into your little bin under your vanity desk before walking over to your walk-in closet and disappearing for a few moments, coming back out with one of your silk baby blue pajama sets in hand, offering it out to you.

“change please.” you sluggishly took the set from him and nodded. “i’ll be just outside—”

“no it’s okay.” you stood and reached for the hem of your dress. “you can stay—”

you pulled up your dress with no fucks given and kento’s eyes bulged open, immediately slapping a hand over his eyes and spinning around with his heart thumping on overdrive, the image of your perfect body adorned with a lacy white bra and panties a hard one to try and— unfortunately— forget for the sake of respecting your privacy and the most intimate parts of yourself.

you giggled and kento shook his head in desperation, placing a hand on his hip.

“don’t do things like that honey.” he scolded gently, a hand still over his eyes as you changed. “at least wait until i avert my attention—”

“you don’t wanna see?” you pouted, finishing by buttoning up your top and tugging at the sleeve of his suit for him to turn around. “it’s all for you ken.”

for— for—

oh dear god help him.

“it’s time to sleep.” he reached around you and pulled back the covers of your bed, you whining. “come on you have brunch with the monroe’s—”

you grumbled and climbed on, dropping yourself on the mattress and shuffling under your various fluffy blankets and sheets, him helping you in pulling them over you until they were settled comfortably by your chest.

“kento.”

“hm?” he hummed, still fiddling with your blankets and basically tucking you in, you finding it incredibly sweet.

“thank you for always taking care of me.”

he stopped, eyes flickering to yours before a soft close lipped smile spread across his face.

“of course darling.” he patted your head. “it’s what i’m here for.”

you knew what he was actually supposed to be there for was only for your protection— to only clock in when you went to events and clock out the second said event was over and done with and you were back home safe and sound.

except kento clocked in the moment your eyes opened for the day, and clocked out as soon as they closed again at night, him by your side through everything in your life and not just for special events, but making sure you had had enough to eat and that you weren’t sick after you spent the day out without a jacket (much to his pestering), that you finished your homework when you were in school and helped you with it as best as he could, and that he was your shoulder to cry on whenever your father yelled at you over something idiotic again— all in all taking care of you like you thought a lover would do for their most treasured thing.

and you hoped you were kento’s most treasured thing.

he was yours, after all.

“i like when you call me darling.” you murmured softly. “and honey. and sweetheart.”

kento swallowed and blushed, thankful that it was sort of dark in your room and that you couldn’t see how pink in the face he actually was over something so minimal.

“i’m glad.” he replied. “you’d let me know if it ever makes you uncomfortable correct?”

you quickly shook your head. “it never makes me uncomfortable ken… ever.”

he nodded, smiling in satisfaction.

“you know what does make me uncomfortable?”

he faltered, brows furrowing in concern.

“what honey?”

“the fact that you still haven’t kissed me on the lips—”

he sharply breathed in and leaned back to stand upright, you giggling and protesting as you flung your arms around his neck before he could, bringing him roughly back down to you and basically pulling him on top of you as kento let out a little oof at the force.

he planted his palms flat on your mattress, trying to lift himself up a bit but unable to due to the astronomical grip you had on him.

“y/n i’m crushing��you let me—”

“so?”

“you won’t be able to properly breathe—”

“and? this is the way to go!”

kento laughed into your neck then, managing to lift himself up at least a little bit  to look at you.

“silly girl.” he murmured, and you grinned.

how stunning.

his eyes dangerously switched to your lips, and you noticed this, your heart skipping a small beat in your chest.

“ken.”

“yes?”

“what do you view me as.”

his gaze shifted and locked with yours, his brows pinching together.

“what do you mean honey?”

“like—” you pursed your lips, looking away to the side in embarrassment. “do you see me as just… a client? or just a friend? or like a little girl who doesn’t know how to do anything? or spoiled?”

“a client?” he repeated. “not at all that’s— an awfully wrong term for what you are.”

your head snapped in his direction.

“really?”

he sat up, sitting himself down on the edge of your bed next to you and you scooching over.

“you are spoiled.” he continued, chuckling once he saw the hopeful expression on your face fall and turn sour. “but it doesn’t mean that you’re incapable of doing things… i’ve never once thought of you as such.”

you hummed in acknowledgement, relieved a little.

“do you see me as a woman?” you asked softly.

he looked at you confusedly.

“well— of course. that’s what you are, aren’t you?”

“no i mean—” you sighed, struggling to get the words out as a blush rose to your cheeks. “like a woman. like the kind that makes you want to…”

you faltered, and he waited patiently for you to continue.

“like the kind of woman you’d want to kiss and things… like— like the kind you’d see yourself falling in love with… or am i just— a friend?”

kento froze.

were you still drunk?

“sweetheart it’s not wise to talk about things like this when you’re inebriated please rest—”

“i’m not!” you frantically shook your head. “i sobered up a long time ago…”

dear god.

he can’t answer your question. he can’t answer your question without straight up lying to you just so he can keep that boundary of respect he had for you and your father, to keep the vow kento had with him as your protector, as your guide…

but kento nanami wasn’t a liar.

and kento nanami loved you— a feeling he had idiotically mistaken for confusion when it was actually the plain and utter truth, for what he felt for you was clearer than anything else in his life, and absolutely nothing about it was ever confusing like he swore up and down before that it was.

he’d known…. he’d always known. and that’s perhaps why he took the bodyguard position in the first place without a fret to your father.

to stay by your side. 

to make sure you were safe… with him.

but did he dare?… did he dare to take the pretty forbidden fruit he had tried so hard for years to stay clear from? to leave it glimmering and healthy to flourish on its own no matter how badly he wanted to harvest it and claim for himself?

“i—”

he hesitated, your beady doe eyes looking at him so hopefully that it clenched his heart without mercy.

“i love you…” he spoke softly. “but i don’t think you being with me would do you justice.”

you blinked, unsure if you should take that positively or negatively—

“but i love you still… you know that.”

you looked at him.

“but love in what way?” you responded.

because love you in the way of a friend or family member sure, and you knew kento did at least that much and wouldn’t have spent so much time with you since the ages of eleven and fourteen if otherwise.

but did he love you?

“love… in the way that makes me want to kiss you.” he tugged at the watch on his wrist, referencing to what you had said before. “and love in the way that makes me want to give everything i have to you honey.”

because he has. he’s been.

“really?” you whispered, the wind completely knocked out of your lungs as he picked up his head to look at you, nodding.

kento opened his arms out for you then and you slowly pushed the covers off of you, crawling over and extending your arms to wrap around his abdomen, his around your shoulders while you tucked your face into his chest.

“but i don’t think you being with me would do you justice my love…” he repeated, and you frowned, already feeling your bottom lip wobble.

“why?”

“i have too much respect for you and your father.” he explained, caressing your hair through his fingers. “and i feel that i’m taking advantage of my position by being with you always… that i’m not giving you a chance to know what it’s like to be with someone else—”

“i don’t want anyone else.” you cut him off. “i don’t need to explore to figure that out ken.”

you looked up at him, cheek mushed up against him. “you’re with me always too… do you need a chance to know what it’s like to be with someone else?”

“no.” he shook his head. “no i absolutely do not.”

you giggled softly. “see? then why would i need one?”

he stared down at you softly, a warm smile that could kill millions if he so let it on his face, and you blushed. 

“i guess you’re right sweetheart.”

kento continued to run his big fingers through your hair, you dozing off a little at the soothing feeling.

“i don’t think your father will be very happy knowing i love you.”

you grumbled. “who cares what that old fart thinks—”

he snorted, lightly tapping your shoulder in a form of scolding, you laughing and holding him tighter.

“he doesn’t have to know for now…” you murmured. “and honestly i didn’t even know you loved me so i think we’re okay—”

“i’m sorry?” he blinked. “i thought i made it somewhat… clear?”

“no!” you countered. “you rejected every move i made ken… you had me basically begging for you.”

his brows pinched in guilt. “i’m sorry my love… i was doing it more for you than for me i— … i didn’t have any ill intent behind it.”

“it’s okay ken.” you smiled cutely, pulling back and propping yourself up by your palms on your mattress, leaning and planting a sweet kiss to his cheek. “though you could’ve just told me you had a begging kink i would’ve understood and begged you to put your fingers in my—”

kento’s eyes widened and he shut you up with a hand over your mouth, your muffled giggles seeping through as he shook his head.

“you have the most vulgar mouth.”

you took his wrist and brought it away, your lips coming next to his ear.

“do something about it then.”

he stilled.

“or do you want me to say what other things i want you to do to me?”

“enough you need to rest—” he placed his hands on your waist with the intent to pull you back and lay you down to sleep… but he just couldn’t do it, his grip shakily tightening instead.

“what i need…” you slid your hands agonizingly slow up his chest and around his broad shoulders, your lips brushing against his with hot steamy desperate breaths fanning across each others faces. “is to know what it’s like to have your fingers in my mouth ken…”

“darling please—”

“—i wanna lick all over them—”

he respects you... dear god kento respects you he— he couldn’t possibly indulge in—

“—so i can show you how good i can suck and choke on your cock—”

kento mushed your cheeks together with his fingers and swallowed your lips up, you letting out a little squeak of surprise as his other unoccupied arm locked around your waist and pulled you flush against him, him hungrily kissing you and gulping down your humming moans of satisfaction as you hurriedly swung a leg over his thighs, straddling him.

you disconnected from his lips and pulled back, taking his hand and bringing it up to your mouth as you pushed him down on the mattress with your unoccupied one, kento looking up at you so hot and bothered and astonished as you hovered over him, plump precious lips wrapping around his index and ring finger and sensually sliding it deeper and deeper in your mouth across your wet tongue.

“jesus sweetheart…” he breathed out, eyes entirely transfixed on the way your lips closed around his fingers entirely and sucked, your head pumping slowly and you delighted over how hard he felt underneath his slacks over something as just you sucking on his fingers.

“m’gonna suck your dick.” you spoke with a mouthful of his digits, and he sat up a little.

“my darling you don’t— you don’t have to do that it’s alright—”

you slid his fingers out of your mouth and pouted. “but i want to… unless you don’t want me to? or do you prefer someone else to do it—”

“what? stop that.” he shook his head, reaching up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear as you snickered, his hand coming down to cup your cheek. “i’m just worried about keeping you up… you have to get ready in a couple of hours.”

you shrugged, giving him a little grin.

“if it’s you and your big dick keeping me up i could care less.”

you swung your thighs off of his lap and stood momentarily, dropping down to your knees and positioning yourself in between his legs— kento’s rounded eyes and shaky breaths making you laugh a little as you reached for the buckle of his belt, tugging the clasp open and him helping you in slipping it off before reaching in his pants, a trembling but needy hand pulling out his thick cock and slowly pumping it.

kento would’ve never thought you’d be kneeling in between his legs and about to do something he’d only fleetingly thought of, the sinful images quickly grabbed by him before he could materialize them in his head any further and tossed in the trash without looking back, embarrassed and awkwardly flustered that he’d thought of such a thing when you were usually just sitting there on your vanity desk dolling yourself up, or simply speaking to him.

he would’ve never thought that the questions of being something more to you than just your bodyguard, would actually actualize itself, your pretty lips beginning to wrap around the tip of his cock and all he can think about is you and how many days he spent yearning for you, confusing it for uncertainty, and lying to himself before giving in to the fact that he did love you. 

and very much so.

to kento, it was a privilege to undergo this intimate experience given by gracious you, and he only wished he didn’t push it away for so many years and dismissed your obvious attempts.

for what was happening now, was heavenly compared to the fleeting thoughts he had tossed in the trash prior… and your pace was rapid, your deprived little mouth that had begged for him time and time again slurping the ever living soul out of him as he clenched his jaw to keep his moans in, afraid of your father or any of the other housekeeping staff hearing what was filthily happening inside your bedroom— his face crossed over in pleasurable shock at how messy and drooly you were all over his dick without even allowing yourself the chance to breathe as you sucked. 

“honey—” he heaved, swallowing hard as he gathered your hair up into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face. “s—slow down or you’ll choke—”

you didn’t listen, your thighs clenching together to ease yourself a little as you sunk your mouth down and gagged, the tip of his cock lodged in the back of your throat so deliciously that he let out a string of rare curses from his lips.

you slurped back up and pulled off of his length with a pop, you sticking your tongue out and smiling too as you tapped his girthy dick on your tongue teasingly.

“but i want to choke ken…” you placed an open mouthed slutty kiss on the side. “and i’d like you to fuck my mouth too please—”

“shit—” he cleared his throat, his balls feeling awfully full and heavy as you parted your lips and took him in again. “but i could potentially harm you—”

you pulled off again. “kento i don’t care just use me or i’ll make you—”

he quickly gathered your soft hair again, leaned back on an elbow and shoved you back down, bucking his hips up and hitting your uvula so hard that you choked, eyes immediately watering and you moaning as he continued to buck his hips up and force you down, sloshing gurgling noises from you fueling his every being with ecstasy, throwing his head back and eyelids fluttering closed.

“you have such a dirty mouth sweetheart…” he grunted. “where did you learn that from? huh?”

you tried to respond, his relentless hip thrusting and filling your mouth up preventing you from getting anything out besides choking noises and spit, kento picking his head back up and looking at you with half lidded eyes.

“i hope you’re not speaking to other little dumb boys with it and teasing them the way you tease me…”

you tried to shake your head no and get it across that you absolutely were not— that you were physically repulsed by any other man making moves on you in your life because they were never him… but his big cock stuffing your throat was drowning out your every attempt so good that you couldn’t.

“no?” a little dazed smile played at his lips, his abdomen tightening and signifying that he was about to blow his entire pent up load in your mouth. “good honey… i don’t want you wasting your time.”

he bucked his hips up faster and forced your head down deeper, his panting and low grumbling moans making you fucking wild as you tried your best to take all of him and suck him, tears from how many times you gagged and choked trickling down your cheeks and you not giving a single fuck and pushing through, noticing that kento’s increased fidgeting and gasping was a signal that he was probably close.

and when you felt him loosen his grip on your hair, gently trying to pry you off so that he could cum somewhere else and not in your throat like the little gentlemen that he was, you slipped your mouth down again and held yourself firm, lips pumping up and down as you jerked him alongside, kento running a hand down the side of his cheek with eyes screwed tightly shut.

“darling i feel—” he quickly sat up, his expensive watch glistening against the moonlight as his hand fell over his heart. “i feel my release let me—”

he pushed at your shoulders gently and you refused, continuing to suck him off and drive him to the edge until a low gutting groan left his lips, you squeaking as he suddenly went feral and pushed the back of your head down and filled your throat up with his cum, sputtering and swallowing down as much as you could while he held you there.

“christ i’m sorry—” he let you go and you came off of him, gasping for air and with a mix of cum and drool seeping down your chin as you fell back on your ass, your chest moving erratically as you tried to catch your breath.

kento immediately stuffed his dick back in his pants and zipped it up, standing and placing his hands on your waist as he easily picked you up off the floor and sat you down next to him on the bed, concerned tumblings over your well being falling from his mouth as he moved your disheveled hair away from your face.

“honey i can’t tell you how sorry i am…” he dug into his blazer for his handkerchief, your tongue lapping up the excess drool and cum from your chin as his cheeks went red over you doing that, quickly stepping in and wiping off the rest for you.

“sorry for what ken?” you hummed, your voice a little hoarse and making kento feel guiltier as he sighed, placing the handkerchief down on your nightstand. 

“for abusing your throat y/n…” he spoke gently, ushering you to bed again as he pulled back the covers. “i wasn’t letting you breathe—”

“but i liked it.” you countered softly, crawling to your pillow and planting a tender little kiss to his cheek on your way, settling under the covers. “i asked you to use me baby… and you did just that! good job!”

kento playfully rolled his eyes and brought your blankets up to your chest. 

“yes but i could’ve done it in a better way.”

“in a better way likeee…?” you grinned cheekily. “like sex? well then you should’ve just asked ken i can take off my—”

you sat up and began unbuttoning your top, kento’s hands shooting out and stopping you midway as he flusteredly buttoned it back up, you laughing.

“please sweetheart you need to rest… it’s nearly six in the morning.” 

you groaned and plopped back down on your pillow. “just tell the monroe’s i’m sick. i’d rather be getting dicked down by you than drinking tea with them—”

“alright okay okay—” he brought the covers back up over you with an amused shy smile. “we’ll talk more about it tomorrow. at the monroe’s.”

you huffed and turned your back to him, kento chuckling before leaning over and placing a delicate lingering kiss on your temple, a slow sleepy smile crossing your face as you relished in the fact that he actually loved you… your fear of him seeing you as nothing more than just a spoiled brat quickly dissipating from the second he uttered his bashful but yet authentic confession to you.

you had been living in absolute worry and defiance and frustrating yourself when that wasn’t necessary at all— kento was just a gentlemen, a man, and his apprehensions for indulging in something more between the two of you were very real and valid and you understood… but you also didn’t care, your stubborn unruly (and spoiled…) personality and mind wanting nothing more than just kento.

and as long as you had him by your side, you didn’t care about anything else.

even when you had only gotten a total of a solid two hours of sleep before you had to wake up for brunch with the monroe’s, you didn’t care about that either, because kento was the one to wake you up with a soft hand down your back and gentle murmurs that slowly eased you awake, him delivering you a warm cup of hot chocolate for the morning because he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of coffee, and the brunch itself not seeming so bad too since you knew he would be there with you through the entire thing.

your newest biggest fear now though… was what your father would say once you told him. 

“are these alright for your hair miss y/n?”

you stopped applying your eyeshadow for a moment and turned your body from your bench seat, a tray of cute shiny pearled up bobby pins that you had requested a week prior sitting neat and ready for you, you looking up and smiling sweetly at your housekeeping staff.

“oh yes! these are beautiful thank you!”

she nodded. “do you need help putting these in? or are you okay?”

“i’m okay! if anything i’ll just ask kento hehe.”

she laughed softly, nodding again before placing the little tray down next to you on your vanity desk and turning to leave, passing by none other than kento on her way as he peaked through your door, giving your housekeeping staff a polite smile and allowing her to pass through first, making his way inside your bedroom once she left.

a cup of misty tea was carefully placed next to you on your desk, and you moved your eyeshadow brush away from your face again to see kento looking down at you with a kind grin, you instantly brightening up and scooching down on your seat to give him a little room to sit with you.

“you didn’t have to bring me this ken you gave me hot chocolate this morning!”

your voice was still a bit hoarse, and that’s precisely why he brought you hot tea to begin with, sighing softly through his nose as he sat down on the other side of your bench next to you.

“it’s for your throat honey.” you continued to buff out your eyeshadow, putting your brush away upon finishing and reaching up to fiddle with your bun, taking a few strands out for a more candid look. “how do you feel?”

“horny.”

kento went into a coughing fit and you laughed, his reactions to your ludicrousy always being a favorite of yours as you pecked his cheek in apology.

“sorry sorry—” you wiped the gloss you got on him off of his chiseled cheek, picking up your little tea cup after and taking a sip. “i mean it’s true i want your dick inside of me but—”

“darling.”

“okay!” you set your tea cup down, grumpily took some of your pearl bobby pins from the tray and started sticking them in your hair. “just say you don’t want to have sex with me it’s fine—”

“that is not what i’m saying whatsoever—”

“you refused to have sex with me last night and you’re doing it again right now mph!—”

he clasped a big hand over your mouth and pulled your head in, bringing his lips to your ear.

“there is nothing more i want than to be inside of you and split your warm little cunt open.”

your eyes blew out in shock.

“so enough or you won’t get anything.”

he turned your head to make you look at him directly.

“understood?”

you quickly nodded and he lowered his hand, grabbing one of yours and kissing the back of it before standing and walking to the door.

“your father wants you in the car with me in twenty minutes sweetheart. i’ll wait for you there.”

you watched him click the door shut behind him and you spun your head back around to face the mirror, shakily moving some strands away and quickly fanning yourself in attempts at calming the fuck down, completely thrown off course on what you were supposed to do next in your routine as you couldn’t even remember what you had just done.

because kento had a secret feral mouth that you had no idea of until now…

and you wanted to hear it again.

eventually you gathered yourself up and finished putting the rest of your bobby pin pearls in your hair, shuffling around in your room looking for your chiffon scarf and breathing out a sigh of relief once you caught sight of its pastel yellow fabric, it matching your summery dress and peeking from your bed as you snatched it and looped it around your upper arms, the fabric falling gracefully in a low curve behind you as you grabbed your clutch and made your way out the door.

you didn’t know what energy to exactly expect from the car ride as you trotted down your staircase and out to his car, but you were nonetheless still surprised to see that kento carried on like he didn’t just mutter in your ear that he wanted to rearrange your guts and for you to behave, you blinking at him and perplexed when he just went on about what things to pay attention to that the girls say because he knew your father would ask you about that certain topic later, not wanting you to get in trouble and an earful if you weren’t able to answer his questions about it.

and you were still perplexed upon arriving at the monroe’s estate— their place of living the only thing you really liked about the yearly brunches, as they lived in what looked like a fucking english regency palace instead of the plain modernized mansions you were accustomed to (including yours…), and you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous each year of the wonderful labyrinth the monroe’s had, an endless place of history and poise that your own home very much lacked.

but as beautiful as their estate was, it still didn’t make up for the absolute bitches that lived in it.

“ken if you turn this car around right now i will do absolutely anything you say and not go to any parties for two months instead of just one—”

he chuckled loudly and shook his head, rounding their grand water fountain that sat extravagantly in the center of their lawn outside, other sleek cars already parked in the front. 

“it’s just for a couple of hours honey.” he parked the car and turned off the ignition, unbuckling his seatbelt. “just indulge in their conversations for a while… and listen please. your father will ask about it later.”

kento shut the door as you unbuckled your seatbelt, him opening yours on the other side while offering a hand out for you to take, you gratefully doing so with a stoic dead look on your face as you kept your eyes locked to the grabble below.

“they don’t even like me.” you muttered, flashing a polite smile to the housekeeping staff that was waiting up ahead, walking up the steps. “the monroe’s and their girl friends don’t even like each other they’re all just a bunch of fake—”

“y/n!”

both of your heads shot up just as you entered the estate, the eldest of the monroe sisters trodding up to you with a smile.

“it’s good to see you!” her eyes shifted to kento. “and with nanami. of course.”

bitch.

“mhm! yup!” you exchanged polite hugs and stepped back. “are the rest of the girls here?”

“yes they just got here actually! they’re all out in the garden with my sisters i was just heading there now!”

“great! i’ll see myself then, you go on ahead.” you tightly smiled, and she shrugged, bidding you a ‘see you later’ before disappearing off into the depths of her home, you slowly turning around with a stressed out twitch in your eye but faltering when kento wasn’t behind you like you thought he was.

you spun around as your tried to look for him, gaze scanning the area to find him and stopping once you did, your brows furrowing in confusion upon seeing him at the other side of the corridor staring at something.

you slowly began walking down, eyes locked on what he was looking at and it making you stop in your tracks next to him once you got close enough to see.

the wall in front of you was littered with wedding photos of the monroe sisters parents and the generations before— the ceremony, cake cutting, pictures of their first dance, and singular portraits of various brides and grooms on their wedding days scattered about with smiles on their faces, all things kento was just staring at without any indication in his expression that could let you know as to what was going on in his head.

“ken?” you asked softly, and he looked to you.

“oh i’m sorry.” he glanced at his watch. “are you ready to head out into the garden?”

“y—yeah…” your eyes switched back to the wall ahead.

“you were looking at their wedding photos?” you smiled. “they’re cute huh? i look at them too every time we come.”

he nodded, placing a hand on your lower back to lead you away from the wall and towards the garden again. 

“i was only curious.” he spoke. “there’s an awful large amount of them.”

you snorted in agreement and continued walking, feeling like there was something he was thinking about and not telling you— you looking to the garden entrance ahead then deciding to take a peek at kento again through the corner of your eye, you suddenly finding him looking over his shoulder at the portraits still.

and your eyes softened.

you slowed down and reached up, gently turning his head from the portraits to you.

“what’s wrong ken?” you looked over at the wall and back to him. “why do you keep looking at the pictures?”

“oh— i didn’t realize.” he readjusted his yellow lensed sunglasses and continued ushering you on with a hand on your back. 

you frowned.

“ken you wouldn’t look at something for that long without any reasoning behind it…”

“it’s truly nothing.” he responded simply, the both of you entering the garden now and drawing nearer to the long table set up amidst a bed of roses and daisies, the rest of the girls beginning to take their seats. “enjoy your brunch darling.”

“no! but—”

“it’s alright go say hello—”

“i’d rather actually rot—”

“hello y/n!”

you stopped fidgeting and dropped your arms, another tight smile on your face as you greeted the youngest monroe sister from the table, deciding to ignore kento’s chuckling from behind you and walk up, taking a seat with the rest of them and looking over the extravagantly set up table for anything to stuff your face with— it filled with little pastries and appetizers from top to bottom, a pretty strawberry shortcake cake in the middle surrounded by a tier of cupcakes and scones, little baked sandwich platters, and a porcelain tea cup set at each of your designated seats to enjoy.

you lightened up a little over all of the cute details and selections, forgetting that the monroe’s always knew how to put on a lovely brunch for all of you every year as you extended an arm, grabbing the nearest tea pot and carefully pouring the steaming liquid in your cup.

“girls! just the other day my father bought me another set of those diamond jewels from the franziska’s!”

that’s why you’d always forget.

the rest of them gushed and looked around the table to the eldest monroe, her neck clad in a pretty diamond necklace with matching earrings and rings.

“i know right? i had lost my previous set while swimming in the lake and my staff couldn’t find them.”

“oh that happened to me once.” one of their girlfriends piped up. “it was an exclusive emerald set from europe… only one in the entire world made!”

the rest of the girls gasped and murmured.

“i had my staff looking in the lake all day and night for three days until one of them finally found it!”

“oh thank god!” the middle monroe sister breathed out. “i would’ve absolutely hated to lose those! especially since they’re a one of a kind!”

“mhm yup! and you know what else actually? just the other day i found out francis— you know the girl from the faltis family?”

the girls faces turned knowing and they eagerly nodded.

“i found out she was asking up and down various jewelry shops and makers for my emerald set!”

they all gasped.

“you’re kidding!”

“no! the girl either wanted to copy me or make the same exact set to still copy me.”

“oh! that sleazy—”

you completely tuned them out beyond this point, your brain literally pulsing with the stupidest shit you had ever come across to hearing in your life, choosing to sit there and enjoy the weather and pretty cherry blossoms around you as you ate a cranberry scone and thought about the things you wanted to do for the weekend.

it’s not like you were a total opposite from the rest of the girls.

you too liked jewels and pretty things, luxury branded vehicles and a little bit of gossip here and there.

but it was the way they talked about it and handled each thing was what aggravated you the most.

they were ungrateful, greedy, and bitchy— no other girl that was a loose connection from them allowed to have the same jewelry set as theirs, the same set of friends as theirs, or the same set of dresses for your monthly bashes and dinner parties as theirs, turning utterly nasty if they so even got a glance of someone else having the same thing as them.

all things that were pointless and unrighteous to be upset about.

and just for the sake of keeping your father from putting your head on a stick, you remained civil with them and refrained from wearing anything similar to theirs at an event if you knew they would be in attendance.

but it was easy, for your taste was completely different than the lot of them, and you preferred pearls anyway over any kind of diamond or emerald or sapphire jewel piece.

“oh! and you know what i heard?” another girl friend spoke up. “akio from the corvus family has a little crush on miss y/n over there!”

kento’s ears perked up.

you jumped upon hearing your name, the rest of the girls gushing and ‘ooing’ as they turned their attention to you.

“i’m sorry what? who?”

“akio!” she laughed. “that man is obsessed with you! he asks for you at every single gathering.”

akio? 

akio… akio…

“the one that looks like a toad?”

the girls laughed at your comment, covering their mouths or learning forward as you just blinked at them, unaware of how what you said was so funny.

“oh you’re too much!” the youngest monroe waved you off. “yes him! any time he sees any of us at an event he always asks if you’re there with us.”

“you know what yes!” the eldest exclaimed. “i heard he wanted to strike up a proposal with your father! i think he already did!”

you dropped the cupcake you were holding.

and kento froze.

“a— a— propo—”

“oh my god congratulations y/n!”

“lucky you!”

“oh a bride already!—”

you turned in your seat to look at kento, but he was looking the other way, an unreadable expression on his face.

you turned back to the girls.

“is this a rumor or it’s actually happening?” you asked. “i don’t want to get married to him!”

they laughed again.

“why not?! yes he’s ugly but that man is loaded. has money to last him and you entirely without having to work a day in your lives!”

your blood ran cold, because anything you knew that was ordered by your father, was bible.

a housekeeping kitchen staff came around then and refilled a few platters of pastries and appetizers.

“ahh you’re so fortunate y/n!” one of the girl friends gushed. “i’d love to be wed to a man with money like akio… i could care less what he looks like!”

“you can have him.” you quickly sputtered, and they laughed again. “no seriously i don’t want him take him please—”

“oh don’t be silly!” the youngest monroe sister waved you off. “akio wants you. he’s kind of creepy about it too.”

“why me?!” you whined. “i’ve only spoken to him a handful of times—”

“why don’t you ask him at the dinner party you’re hosting next week? i’m pretty sure he’s going!” another girl friend spoke up. “i have a feeling he’s gonna propose to you there.”

you propped your elbow up on the table and placed a hand on your forehead in misery, feeling like you were living in a total nightmare.

“i’d honestly rather go broke.”

they all burst out laughing again.

what the hell was so funny?

“you’re too much!” the middle monroe sister gasped. “just give him a chance! once you see all the things he can buy for you, you’ll change your mind. plus… i think it’d be nice to have a break from mr. nanami don’t you think?”

you picked your head up.

“…kento?”

“uh huh!” the eldest continued. “god that must be exhausting having him around watching over you like that… it’s like he’s babysitting you. must be tiresome for him too.”

babysitting?

“with you and akio’s marriage i’m sure he’ll dismiss nanami’s services, and you can go your separate ways finally!”

“but—”

“and mr. nanami sure is handsome too.” another girl piped up with a hushed voice. “he’ll find a rich girl to settle down with in no time—”

“oh that’d be so great!—”

you abruptly stood, the silverware and tea cups clattering as you did so, the rest of them falling silent.

“sorry. excuse me.” you mumbled, eyes casted downward as you moved around your chair and off to the side, the girls shrugging and uncaring as they proceeded to babble on about other nonsense as you walked ahead, further and further away from the table and the chattering and through the garden, passing by several other flower beds of orchards and sunflowers until you reached the little duck pond by the end of the garden.

you stopped and sighed, bitterly crossing your arms and damning your father for ever discussing something as serious as marriage without your consent, marrying you off basically, or even lacking giving you a god damn warning before you came to brunch today— you and your father both knowing how much of a blabber mouth all of the girls were and how much they fed off of gossip like that.

you felt like a fucking idiot.

and who the hell was akio exactly? you knew of him and kind of had an idea of what he looked like, but you never really paid attention whenever he came up to talk to you at events or parties, his face almost entirely blurry in your mind besides the obvious features he had that did in fact make him look like a damn toad.

and another thing that was obvious too, was how creepy he was.

the only thing the monroe’s shit talking got right.

“honey?”

you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“hi ken.”

the rustling of grass filled the otherwise peaceful ambience as he stepped beside you, the both of you looking out ahead over the sparkling duck pond.

“are you alright?”

you nodded.

“i know you’re not alright i can see it.” he readjusted his lenses. “i’m assuming it has to do with the information the monroe’s told you?”

“i’m being married off ken.” you mumbled, eyes switching to him. “how are you so calm about this?”

“oh i’m not.” he spoke simply. “i’m quite agitated actually.”

you faltered, eyes falling down.

“i’ve always respected your father ever since we were young. and every choice he made with you i always agreed that it was what was best for you.”

you listened.

“but i can’t—” he paused. “… i can’t see how this is best for you. and i don’t know if it’s because i love you and i’m being selfish or if it actually is what’s best for you… so my thinking is— adhered.”

“how can marrying me off like the fucking renaissance period be what’s best for me?” you muttered, and he chuckled softly.

“and i love you, kento.” you continued. “my thinking’s also messed up.”

he placed a hand on your lower back and gently nudged you to him, you complying and falling into his side, wrapping your arms around him.

“it’s your choice y/n.” he spoke softly. “i know akio isn’t… the greatest. but he’s qualified to be your husband.”

your eyes widened.

“what are you saying? what about— what about you?”

he looked down, a sad smile on his face.

“i’ll stay for as long as you need me sweetheart.”

the ducks fluttering wings from the pond ahead filled the silence, tranquil splashes of water that followed after their every move with little quacks and hoots.

“so you’re just gonna give me away.” you mumbled. “just like that. easy peasy. who cares—”

“no—”

“i want you to be my husband ken.”

he gave you a deadpanned look.

“darling don’t joke about things like that—”

“oh i’m not joking.” you separated from him, frustration swirling in your chest. “why is it always considered a joke to you when i talk about being with you?”

he paused, sighing a little through his nose.

“i feel incredibly lucky that a woman like you could envision a life with me.” he spoke. “but i’m also aware that i’m very… boring. i’d feel it wrong to tie you down to a life without excitement like the one you live now.”

kento slipped an arm around your waist and brought you back in again.

“akio seems to be more like you… maybe you could learn to get along.”

your lip began to wobble, and kento’s eyes softened. 

“sweethea—”

“i don’t care about any of that stuff.” you sniffled, wiping your cheeks. “you of all people should know this—”

“don’t cry please you’ll ruin your hard work—”

kento dug into his blazer and pulled out a little handkerchief, carefully patting down your face.

“yes i like to go out a lot but so what? it’s not something that’s a part of me it’s just something i like to do.”

you took the handkerchief from him and pressed it into the corner of your eye. 

“you’re a part of me ken… and i want a life with you, i’ve known since i was freaking sixteen. i don’t need it spelled out for me.”

kento swallowed.

he’d always admired how stubborn you were, because to him it meant a strong mind and an ambitious drive in contrast to the negative connotation that that word seemed to have— things that were absolutely who you were and why he fell in love with you in the first place, and why you were such a gem.

but he worried still that you’d regret it and change your mind.

that he wouldn’t be able to live up to your lifestyle and your wants and needs, and that you’d get bored of him… leaving in the end.

kento doesn’t think he could bare the thought of you leaving him, much like how he couldn’t bare the thought of you marrying akio either.

but if it meant what was best for you, then so be it… except it wasn’t. 

he was sure of it.

“you’re a part of me as well.” he murmured. “i’m sure you know that—”

“i don’t.” you grumbled, and he chuckled. “you’re always switching up on me with your rejections and then your confessions i’m confused—”

kento silenced you with a kiss to your lips, his big hands on either sides of your face as your eyes fluttered closed and you leaned into his built frame, your arms snaking around his neck and his bringing you closer by the waist as you tenderly deepened the kiss— soft lips smacking and moving with such love that it almost made you cry again.

“i’m sorry.” he pulled back, whispering against your lips. “it’s completely unfair to you—”

“s’okay ken.” you whispered back, the cutest smile he had even seen in his life on your face. “i’ll forgive you if you keep kissing me.”

“deal.”

your lips mushed up against each others once more, kento breathing you in and relishing in the feeling of your body pressed up against his, his hands slowly roaming around from your waist to your sides— still trying to be respectful of his hand placement until you took one of them and lowered it to your ass cheek with a squeeze, him laughing against your lips.

you were so silly.

silly and bright and spontaneous and beautiful, today another reminder from countless others with your frilly pastel yellow sundress and the pearls in your hair, your entity different from the rest of the women he’d come to know and thankful that he was lucky enough to have grown with you.

to have protected you. 

and the both of you were relieved to see that the monroe sisters and their girl friends didn’t seem to care where you two had ventured off to, for you didn’t know how long you were gone either as you approached the table again— the dessert piles, scones, and strawberry shortcake cake nearly nonexistent, you taking a seat again and secretly reapplying your lipgloss since kento had basically sucked it off of your face, your cheeks pinky and the butterflies in your stomach running rampant.

you were glad then that the monroe’s and their minions were such dim witted bitches too, because their level of self-absorption inhibited them from knowing or picking up on any clues of what could have transpired between you and kento in the garden, them immediately going to you upon arrival and chatting up a storm about mindless things again like you had never left the table to begin with.

but all you could think about was what you were going to tell you father about akio.

and you didn’t want to think about it honestly… because you knew there was a strong chance of you getting literally violent and landing yourself in deeper shit with him than ever before.

that didn’t matter either though if it meant being with kento… and for real this time. the thought of simply just him giving you the push that you needed to trudge up your grand staircase once you got home from brunch, kento trailing behind you and pleading with you to take a little breather before going in to speak with your father, but you absolutely done over the situation seeing as he only ever saw you as a thing and not his daughter if he was willing to marry you off like that.

“my love please relax—”

you stopped in front of your fathers study and knocked curtly, ignoring kento’s words.

“come in.”

you pushed down the handle and walked through, kento following close behind you and clicking the door closed as you stepped to the front of your fathers desk, your arms crossed.

“ah y/n. nanami.” he looked up from his documents, eyes switching between the two of you. “how was brunch with the monroe’s?”

“good.” you replied.

“was the food selection still as grandiose as always?” he looked back down at his paperwork.

“mhm.” you crossed your arms. “they had strawberry shortcake cake this year.”

he hummed. “the monroe’s always know how to put on a good event don’t they? for their daughters? and how are they by the w—”

“they’re fine.” you cut him off sharply. “but you know what isn’t fine?”

he eyed you.

“what?”

“that you’re marrying me off to akio—”

he sighed loudly and placed his documents flat on his desk, leaning forward and wringing his hands together to rest on the surface.

“he’s a good prospect.” he began. “he came up to me with some very impressive ideas about the future of my business, and also how much he was interested in you.”

you scoffed. “so this is what the arrangement is about? your business?”

“i thought you would be happy about this?” he extended his hands out lazily. “akio comes from a wealthy background. you’ll be taken care of in whatever you need and he’s qualified to take over my business once the time comes—”

hurt flashed across your face.

“why would you consider akio taking over your business and not your daughter?”

he laughed humorously, shuffling some papers about mindlessly on his desk.

“y/n you can’t possibly think that i’d consider you to take leadership over my business.”

“and why the hell not?”

his eyes narrowed.

“because you’re incompetent.” he spoke harshly. “you don’t know the meaning of responsibility, you’re stubborn, you’re spoiled, and all that you concern yourself with is parties and outings. you think i would allow you anywhere near my business?”

with each insult and jab that was thrown in your face, the blurrier and blurrier your vision got, you desperately trying to blink your tears back and put on a brave front, but finding it difficult when it was your own father that was dumbing you down to nothing.

“you’re not ready for anything like this and i don’t think you will ever be.” he stood up from his chair. “i’m thinking of what’s good for you and you’re being ungrateful yet again with your complaints—”

“sir with all due respect please try to see where she’s coming from.” kento interjected. “i’m sure she has the future of your business in her best interests, but marrying her off to someone she doesn’t know very well is upsetting her—”

“she’s never had any interest in the state of my business son you and i both know that—”

“sir she’s an extremely capable woman and independent i assure you her contribution to the business would serve prosperity—”

your father scoffed. “there is no prosperity with her. all she brings is disorder and foolery and i appreciate you trying to vouch for her but—”

“please if you’d just give her a chance—”

“i’d give you more of a chance over her—”

“then give the company to kento!” you yelled, the both of them snapping their heads to you and kento’s eyes widening. “i could care less what you think of me everything you told me isn’t new fucking information—”

“young lady language—”

“—i’m not here to try and convince you to give me the business that’s not what i’m here for.” you spat. “but don’t you dare stand there and say that i’ve never cared about the state of it when that’s bullshit.”

kento placed a hand on your shoulder and you shook it off.

“give the company to kento.” you repeated firmly. “if you give it to akio he’ll run your business to the ground and you know that.”

“and how would you know he isn’t qualified—”

“are you kidding?” you shook your head incredulously. “akio is a little dumb boy who goes to his daddy for help any chance he gets because he can’t do anything for himself. he puts on a show about how he’s this mature experienced man when he’s nothing but a joke.”

“i thought you said you barely knew him?” your father asked. “where is this information coming from?”

“the monroe sisters.” you spat. “they’re blabbermouths and their opinions are garbage, but their gossip is always truthful.”

it’s how you found out about the arranged proposal after all.

“i’m stubborn, i’m spoiled, i’m too stupid to handle anything for myself i’m helpless— fine. whatever you say but him?—”

you pointed to kento.

“he’s the most qualified for this position and you and i both know that.”

“y/n no—” kento tried to interject again, but you cut him off.

“he’s seen you handle the business since he was fourteen and knows it inside and out and just as much as you do. any task you’ve ever given him he’s gotten it done and more and i assure you that the business will flourish if you give it to him.”

you stepped forward, your father standing there with a neutral expression.

“believe it or not i care about what you worked so hard for to create, and i care about you, and regardless of what you think of me and the fact that you’ve shown me the complete opposite, it’d kill me to see akio ruin all of it.”

you wiped your cheeks and continued as you turned around, making your way to the other side of your father’s study. 

“kento’s a good man. everything will be in good hands with him.”

you threw open the door and stomped out.

“and i’m not marrying akio!—”

“y/n return at once—”

“sir i advise you to—”

your father and kento’s words drowned out the further down the hallway you got, tears spilling from your eyes now that you were away from it all as your heels hastily clicked against the shiny marble flooring, quiet sobs racking through your body.

you spouting repeatedly how you didn’t care what your father thought about you was a complete lie.

because you very much did care… you always have. and no matter how hard you tried to prove to him that you were capable of more than just parties and brunches and pearls and pretty dresses and shoes and cars, it was never enough. 

you were never enough.

“y/n—”

kento distantly burst out from your father’s study and quickly strode up to you, concern etched all over his face as you shook off your chiffon scarf and chucked it somewhere behind you in frustration. 

“my darling—” kento picked up the long piece of fabric and continued on after you. “my darling i’m so sorry—”

“i need to be alone ken.” you sobbed. “i’m sorry too i just need to be alone—”

“i refuse to leave—”

you slammed your bedroom door shut and kento picked up the pace, his eyes big in alarm at the sound of tumbling and thudding in your room as he stopped in front of your door, swinging it open to reveal you on the other side throwing your heels across the room along with several other pairs and things, your pretty pearls and jewels flying as he stood there in shock.

kento caught sight of you picking up your favorite porcelain flower vase amidst your rage to throw, him quickly stepping in and snatching it from you and fighting your thrashing as he held you to himself.

“kento stop it!—”

he placed the vase safely on your vanity desk and spun you around, his arms grabbing your shoulders tightly as he bent down to your level.

“sweetheart breathe please—” 

he hurriedly snagged off his cream colored blazer and tossed it off to the side, leaving him in his blue button up and suspenders as he rolled up his sleeves and placed his hands back on your shoulders.

“hey— it’s alright.” his hazel eyes frantically darted over every corner of your face, him snatching off his lenses now and tossing them. “it’s alright breathe for me y/n please—”

you could only sob, your mascara stained cheeks and heartbroken expression crumbling and ripping kento to pieces as he looked at you, his hands coming up to cup and caress your wet face.

“everything he said was the farthest thing from the truth don’t let it upset you like this—”

“no but he’s right he’s right!” you sobbed. “i’m useless i can’t do shit for myself and i’d probably be off somewhere dead in a ditch if it wasn’t for you—”

“do not say things like that—”

“kento you can’t be with me.”

he faltered. “i’m sorry?”

“you can’t be with me it’s embarrassing to be with me you’re better off with someone who’s capable and responsible like you i just bring you down—”

“stop that i’m serious i won’t ask again—”

“no kento you’re not listening!” you cried, your shoulders violently shaking. “you’re a good man. you’re such a good man and you’re way too good for me and i don’t deserve to be with you you can’t keep babysitting me like this—”

“how could you ever possibly say these things about yourself?” he shook his head. “how could you ever say that you’re too good for me when it’s the other way around?”

your eyes narrowed.

“no it’s not don’t give me that—”

“your father is full of shit.”

your mouth snapped shut.

kento never badmouthed your father no matter what it was, and he also never cussed so forceful and purposeful no matter the situation.

“he’s always been too hard on you and too stoic for reasons that i will never understand nor ever agree with.”

he leaned closer.

“do not upset yourself over the things he said any longer and do not worry about your marriage arrangement with akio.”

“ken—”

“do not think about the pearls you just threw over your balcony do not worry about anything— i will take care of it.”

“i—”

“i love you and i will take care of it.”

you continued to cry, letting your body slump wholly against his as he caught you and held you tight.

“please.. i beg you darling to believe me when i say that you are the most capable woman i know.” he spoke against your ear, his chest aching over your soft sobbing. “you’re witty and you’re intelligent and you’ve come so far simply because of who you are and the way you carry yourself. it’s a shame your father can’t see that.”

“no one can see that—”

“i can see it. everybody else can see it too and i’ve been around you all my life to testify for it.” 

you sniffled, burying your face in his neck.

“believe me my love…” he ran a soothing hand down your back. “you’re everything. you’re an asset. don’t let your father’s words take that away.”

you sniffled a little, standing there silent as your hiccups and sobs settled down gradually, your heart beating prominently against your ribs at kento’s sweet murmurings and affection, because though your fathers actions and decisions were bible, so were kento’s words.

he was a good man.

“thank you.” you mumbled, and he nodded, gently guiding you to your bed to sit.

“i’ll take care of you sweetheart.” he pulled back and placed a soft kiss to your lips. “i promise you.”

you smiled a little, a small warm gleam in your eyes as you sniffed and nodded.

“okay ken.��

words didn’t need to be said between the two of you to know the unconditional love you both had for each other, one that was born and bred and made a fact upon your lives crossing paths through fated connections, and strengthened from the day kento decided to be your bodyguard and protect you with everything that he had.

and words didn’t need to be said between the two of you as you both fell in each other’s soft embraces either, kissing with lingering hands and bated breaths as kento delicately laid you back on your bed after a moment of soft chattering, him making sure you were okay, and scattering hungry open mouthed kisses on your jaw and neck and your body language alone with your needy whines enough of an indicator to him that you needed all of him, just as much as he needed all of you, his calloused hands undressing you and worshipping your bare body and everything that you were.

skin to skin contact that was hot to the touch, your arms that barely reached around his broad built shoulders trembling as kento made love to you that night, foreheads resting against each others as he pumped slowly and intimately in and out from inside you, your gasps catching themselves in your throat and him moaning with every thrust and snap of his hips that sent you down a ditzy fucked out road that you never wanted to back track from.

and kento treated you like a delicate little pearl all while at the same time desperately marking and bruising you up with hickeys and bites, afraid from the start that he would accidentally cross the line and hurt you due to his size, but you reassuring him with your perfect smile and pretty face while whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he filled you full, him swallowing you whole and man handling you so much to the point where he had to have you biting down on his tie to keep you quiet while he fucked you senseless.

everything about it was meaningful and cherished and nothing like you’d ever experienced before in your life— a night you wanted to remember for as long as you lived and prayed that you got to repeat over and over again… with him.

with kento and kento only.

he was the only man capable of simmering down your tears and making you feel so much better about a situation as horrid as the one that transpired, and he was the only man that was capable of getting you to listen when you didn’t want to, an incredible talent in itself that spoke volumes in how much of a gentle and kind and reliable person he was… and you only hoped that you provided him with things of the same caliber.

and the thought of that only amplified upon you waking up to find that kento wasn’t next to you in your bed the next morning… when you clearly remembered falling asleep in his big arms the night before.

you slowly sat up, one tired eye peeking over at the vacant spot next you and around the room, finding nothing and honestly feeling a little down about his disappearance as you groggily got out of bed.

maybe he went to eat breakfast? or get a cup of coffee?

you continued on anyways with your morning and freshened up for the day, your legs nearly giving out and sore in the shower due to the pounding he gave you— skin tender and purple under the running water and you loving every mark, shrugging and getting ready quicker than normal so you could finally see kento downstairs to share a little smooch or two with him.

you zoomed through styling your hair and doing your makeup before spritzing a bit of perfume, not bothering to locate your phone before you opened the door to your bedroom and stepped out, bidding your usual good mornings to your housekeeping staff as you skipped down the grand staircase and over to the kitchen, a place he was usually at if not already with you in your room.

but he wasn’t there.

and you frowned.

where was he?

you spent a total of thirty minutes looking for kento— practically turning your mansion upside down and even sticking your head in rooms you had never stepped foot in before, your mind fucking confused and worried that you couldn’t locate him anywhere and that your staff didn’t even know where he was when you asked, for him doing something like this was completely unheard of.

upon going back upstairs, you speedily walked past your fathers study and stopped.

could he be in there…?

but your father was for sure in there, and you couldn’t stand the thought of speaking or even looking at him at the moment without fury clouding your judgement again.

but kento could be in there…

you took a deep breath and walked back to your fathers door, hesitantly knocking gently.

“come in.”

you pushed the door open and stepped in, closing it behind you before turning around and shoulders slumping when you didn’t spot him in here either.

dammit.

“good morning.” your father spoke. “what can i do for you? it’s rather early for you to be stopping by.”

“oh yeah sorry i just—” you played with the ends of your hair. “i was just looking for kento… i thought he might’ve been in here.”

he shook his head.

“he’s not. he left.”

you froze.

“he— what?”

“he left.” you father repeated. “nanami stepped down from the position of being your bodyguard earlier today. he left a couple of hours ago.”

what the fuck?

“i don’t—” you tightly gripped the table next to you, balancing yourself. “i don’t understand—”

“you’ll be assigned a new bodyguard within the next coming week—”

“did he say why?” you breathed out. “did he say anything at all?”

your fathers eyes scanned you.

“amongst various other things, he said he simply couldn’t fulfill that position anymore.”

“did you fire him?!”

he scoffed. “don’t be ridiculous y/n i would never do something like that to nanami. i tried to get him to reconsider.”

holy fucking shit.

kento quit? kento left? kento left you?

it didn’t make any sense. nothing about it made sense to you this— this wasn’t like him at all—

“like i said you’ll be assigned a new bodyguard soon i just need to finalize nanami’s paperwork—”

you swung open the door and ran out, your eyes already filling with tears as you pushed through your housekeeping staff and ignored their beckoning and calls, you bursting through your room and throwing everything around to try and find your phone through your heaving and panic.

why did he leave you? was it something you did?

did he finally realize you were nothing but a useless spoiled girl?

you hurriedly wiped your eyes and kept looking, transitioning from your bed over to your vanity desk and knocking over everything to try and find your stupid phone to call him, some of your expensive bottle of perfumes clattering and spilling and you not giving a rats ass about it as your tears increased in intensity, about to run out of your room and get in your car to literally drive around your fucking city to look for him until you snapped your head up.

a small yellow sticky note sat stuck to your mirror. 

you stopped, dropping the items you were holding and stepping closer— pulling the note from its position and bringing it in.

i’ll be in the garden waiting for you when you wake up.

kento.

you hiccuped and wiped your eyes again, kicking the clothes you had thrown about in search for your phone (that you still couldn’t find) as you hurriedly left your room and trudged down the hall, confusion and hurt suffocating your head over the information you had just learned about him and his leave, you reaching the bottom of your staircase and rounding through various hallways and lounge areas to get to the entry way of your little garden, one that wasn’t exaggeratingly massive like the monroe’s, but one that was a great size and that you loved with everything in you— various flowers and herbs planted by yours truly as you periodically took care of them from time to time.

and sure enough, as promised, kento was standing at the end of your garden, his back turned to you as he overlooked the acres of land your father owned that stretched beyond the premises of your rosey labyrinth, him dressed in a casual yet dressy tight long sleeve sweater and dress pants— a sight you weren’t used to seeing at all as you always saw him in a full blown suit everyday without fail.

kento heard the soft rustling of grass and he slightly turned, a soft smile stretching across his chiseled face until he caught sight of your tear stained cheeks and pissed off expression, his face dropping and brows pinching.

“honey what’s wrong?” he walked over to you and you glared. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“you quit.” you muttered, already annoyingly feeling your waterworks trigger again. “my father said you gave up your bodyguard position.”

“oh.” his shoulders relaxed, and his nonchalance only further pissed you off. “i did my love yes—”

“why.” you pushed. “why are you leaving i don’t— i don’t get it did i do something wrong? i—”

“what?” he shook his head and took your hands in his. “no dear god no you didn’t do anything.”

“then why are you leaving?” you sniffed, and kento wiped a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“i told your father i love you.”

you stiffened.

“he wasn’t very pleased.” he continued. “i figured he wouldn’t be… but he didn’t make me step down from my position darling, i chose to do that.”

you blinked confusedly.

“but why?”

“i don’t want to be paid for something that i was born to do as your man.” he smiled warmly. “it didn’t feel right to me… and i don’t want to be labeled as that anymore either.”

he wiped away your remaining tears.

“i want to only be known as yours now. not your bodyguard or anything else in between.”

you were left speechless, unmoving and rigid at everything he was saying.

“however… your father did make me choose between you and the business.”

your brows furrowed, taken aback.

“the— the business?—”

kento nodded, a content smile still on his face.

“he was impressed by what you said yesterday sweetheart.” 

you scoffed. “what that his words were bullshit and that he doesn’t care about me—”

he laughed, little crinkles in the corners of his eyes as he shook his head.

“he was satisfied to see that you weren’t angry about not getting the company for yourself, but because he was going to give it away to someone who wasn’t qualified to maintain it.” 

you pursed your lips.

“he was offering it to me in exchange for letting you go. i refused immediately.”

your eyes shot up.

“kento no i— fuck—” you looked around exasperatedly. “this is your dream! this is everything you’ve ever wanted i feel horrible for taking that away i don’t—”

“sweetheart don’t be stupid.” he chuckled. “i thought i made it clear enough that you’re everything i’ve ever wanted… not some business. i don’t need any of that. just you.”

your eyes softened.

“are you sad at all?”

he shook his head and gently kissed your forehead.

“i’m the happiest i’ve ever been y/n.”

and that was the truest of truths.

kento was truly and incandescently happy, no longer tied down and restrained by his inner monologues of former idiotic confusion, or jugglings of what was best for you and whether you should be with him or not no longer standing in the way either as he finally welcomed the fact that yes— a woman as gracious and lively and stunning as you could indeed love a simple man like him, an absolute privilege and honor to have someone as special as you want a life with him in it that he just couldn’t understand how his feelings were ever considered confusing to start with.

for him thinking of nothing but you and his occupation as your protector and your guide, a job that he saw himself doing beside you until his very dying day, was all simply a mask of him thinking out the rest of his life with you in the form of work.

and it was so clear that he loved you. so much.

how could he not? how could the way he stared at the monroe’s generational wedding portraits and photographs, swapping their faces out with his and yours, and his constant weighings of ‘if she was mine’ and ‘does she actually feel the same way’ from before not already give away enough that he loved you?

but it was even clearer now, with him giving up the opportunity to build and nourish a reputable business like he’d always aspired to do, turning it down without so much as a blink because he wanted you and you only, not feeling an ounce of regret in his body and knowing that he never will.

kento was looking forward to spending the rest of his days with the woman that he’d always envisioned it with— the forbidden heavenly fruit that he had deemed impossible to reach and wrong to even try, him unknowing of the fact that that same glistening fruit sat dangling and waiting as it would only ever let itself be harvested and picked by him… for kento was the one who planted and had been nurturing it for as long as it could remember.

planted it… nurtured it… kept it safe.

kept you safe.

and funnily enough, another individual was also looking forward to seeing your life with kento unfold… your father— curious to see how exactly two opposites became compatible, and when it was that the two of you fell in love as it managed to wholeheartedly slip past his radar completely when most things didn’t.

had he really been this absent in your life?

… though regardless if he was or wasn’t, it was too late to dwell on it now, seeing as you were a grown woman and capable and your father was grateful that you at least had a companion with you through the many days he wasn’t, and an honorable man such as kento— taking care of you and guiding you through every step of your life when he didn’t even need to be asked, his willingness to do it and overlooking your reckless habits reading numbers to your father.

and even more so now as he leaned against his studies stone balcony ledge from above, it overlooking the entirety of your garden plus the acres of land he owned during the annual dinner party he put on for the business, kento sitting peacefully on a lawn chair with you in his lap while drinking glasses of sparkling champagne, soft echoing laughs and giggles heard from below as you enjoyed each others company away from the bustling crowds and nosy relatives.

it was a pleasing sight, to say the least.

and it was exactly why your father was going to give his business to kento when the time came, because when given the choice between gluttony and love, kento chose love.

he chose you.

“i’m thinking of planting tiger lilies soon.” you hummed, your head resting on kento’s shoulder as he delicately ran a hand down your back, sipping his champagne. “it’s almost their season… right?”

“i believe so, yes.” he nodded. “i think that’s a great idea.”

“thanks!” you cheesed, running the tip of your index finger absentmindedly over the rim of your glass. “will you help me? i need your big manly arms to carry the soil out from the flower shop tomorrow hehe.”

he chuckled, tracing his fingers gingerly over your upper arm. “i’ll pick it up for you in the morning sweetheart. don’t concern yourself with it.”

you smiled to yourself, cheeks warm as you pressed a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.

“i am concerned about something else though…”

his brows pinched, lowering the glass from his lips and looking at you in concern.

“what is it?”

“when we’re gonna pick our wedding date—”

kento laughed boastfully and shook his head, setting down his champagne glass on the little table next to him and settling his hand over your thigh, the material of your classy black dress smooth under his touch.

“you asked me this just last night my love.”

“okay so?” you grinned. “you don’t want me to be your precious wife? the birth giver of your offspring?—”

“i never said that—”

“because i could y’know.” you caressed his jaw with your thumb. “i could be your wife and be the mother of your children… isn’t that what you want?”

with all of his heart.

“it’s what i want at least.” you pouted, and kento smiled handsomely, the vision of you soaked in the rays of the setting sun before him a lethal one as he felt his heart rattle against his chest.

“me promising to take care of you has marriage included above all else my love.” he spoke gently. “you will be my bride someday, i assure you.”

you stared at him warmly, your cheek falling to rest against his as you placed your hand on his chest and over his white crisp button up.

“i also assure you that you’ll continue to be happy and protected, alright?” he squeezed your thigh. “just because i’m not your bodyguard anymore doesn’t mean my duties are done with.”

you nodded against him, the slight prickling cold wind brushing against your skin as the stunning sun continued to set.

“you’re a good man, ken.” you murmured. “and i love you.”

and that was another truest of truths.

because as he reiterated that same three worded phrase back to you and held you closer to his built frame, grabbing his blazer from the arm rest and draping it over your goose bumped filled shoulders, and with a tender kiss to your lips?

it was obvious that kento nanami was born and raised to be just that.

a good man.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

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[xazse]

Ahhhh I loved your reader hybrid works, literal chefs kiss 😩🤌 can you pls pls pls do a bunny! Reader x Suguru and Satoru

You can’t!

Synopsis: Poor Bunnygirl and puppyboySatoru are experiencing the worst heats ever, good thing their owner Suguru is there to take care of them.

Notes: Hi I decided to bring in our Puppy!BoySatoru if you don’t like it just let me know and I’ll revise this entire thing for you!!

Pairings: Puppy!HybridSatoru x Bunny!GirlReader x Suguru

Warnings: Hybrid!Reader + smut + humping + Hybrid!Satoru + drooling + licking + penetration + lots of cum very nasty + Suguru is a good owner + collars

Suguru is exhausted when he read online that getting a hybrid would take a lot of work they weren’t lying especially Bunnygirls and Puppy!Boys.

He thought he would be ready and prepared, it should be a walk in the park! Of course bumps and falls would occur but with someone as patient as Suguru everything will turn out fine.

A year in everything was so fucking perfect, You and Satoru listened so well he really lucked out with the two of you. Most people would complain on online forums that handling was the hardest thing.

The issues started arising when you and Satoru started getting needy, you were kinda independent before but now you both are always on or under Suguru, you both felt the need to always have your hands on him, roaming his body and even touching each other. More issues started to come when it felt like you and him were so feverish and always sore.

A quick google search brought Suguru to the page of hybrid heats. It happens often and can be unpredictable, it’s slapped in his face and he isn’t sure what to do

“Please-Suguru hurts so bad..”

He surely wasn’t expecting to walk into the scene he’s seeing right now, Satoru laid on his back with you atop him, tears are brimming in both your lashes it looks like you two have been crying and whining for the longest time.

You’re in nothing but panties and a thin tank top with him sporting just his underwear. Satoru’s cock is fully hard pressed agains’t your cunt so snugly and he’s already made a mess: his cum seeping through.

It looks like this is what you two have been doing for all this time, just grinding against each other. He feels terrible, he hadn’t taken the time to fully explain what would be happening to your bodies.

He makes his way over to his dumb pets and you both follow so obediently, leaving each others arms to fully envelope in his. Satoru starts licking and sucking on his neck, he isn’t shy to rub his cock so blatantly, smearing his thick load even more.

He needs to teach his hybrids how to pleasure themselves whilst he isn’t here, he stops Satoru from his suckling. He gently has you lay down admiring just how cute you look, your ears are standing at full attention but your hazy eyes aren’t all there.

He pulls off your sticky panties, a clear line of your cum visible when they’re discarded.

He’s met with an even messier sight when admiring your pussy, your folds are glistening as well as his fingers when he teases your little clit.

Suguru positions Satoru in front of your spread legs, he isn’t sure what to do with himself besides following Suguru’s every direction.

Suguru dips his fingers in your cunt again, guiding them to Satoru’s mouth he has him suck them clean.

Satoru absolutely loves the taste of you, he groans so lewdly as he’s lapping up what’s left of your essence.

When he finishes that up Suguru grabs Satoru’s leaky cock with a rough grip and taps it a few times on your soddened clit, this elicits a few moans out of the both of you. It feels so good already, and yet Suguru can’t wait to show you both just how good cumming feels.

He guides Satoru’s hips pushing his sensitive pink tip past your tight entrance.

“Ahh..ngh…”

The whimpering starts, poor puppy Satoru’s brain can’t comprehend this feeling, he knows the pleasure part of his brain is needing more but his body wants to pull away at the same time, he’s scared at how wet and hot it feels. He isn’t telling Suguru to stop so he continues.

His bunny isn’t fairing any better, you’re gripping the pillows for dear life as a fat cock, something foreign pushes inside of you for the first time.

Suguru sets a slow nice pace, hands still on Satoru’s hips guiding him inside of your wet cavern and out again and again. He’s doing all the work but he doesn’t mind one bit.

Suguru pauses working Gojo into you and lets him feel you, for real this time. Your walls are twitching and clamping down on him so hard.

He slides down into the crook of your neck and cries right there, it’s such a sad sight but so arousing at the same time.

“Cmon Toru, gotta make bunny feel good too.”

Satoru listens and begins licking your sensitive neck, he knows that’s a weak spot of yours, always triggering it when he’s roughhousing with you. His hips begin speeding up, the wet sounds of your cum mixing together and being slammed against one another is loud and bounces off the walls.

You cry out loud letting Suguru know that you feel weird, your tummy feels weird and it’s hurting. He reassures you and says to just let it go.

Suguru teases and grabs Satoru’s balls, head diving into his first load of the afternoon, it’s a good bit of cum he produces, Suguru is going to spend a good hour cleaning the both of you up!

[nana-au]

More bff!mark content please I BEG YOU

(Bonus points if it’s smut)

absolutely anon! MDNI

𝐁𝐅𝐅! 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 | your first time together gets ruined by sex pollen

note: this is rlly shitty mb i just wanted to write some dirty freaky nasty smut

warnings: corny sex pollen trope, afab/fem! reader, unprotected sex, slightly rough sex, tummy bulging, marathon sex, cum eating, sloppy gross makeout im sorry

bff! mark who always pictured your first time together as this slow and sensual moment where he confessed his deepest desires. he imagined himself taking his time - kissing up and down your body until you're putty in his hands... until you are so pliant and needy and breathless. he always knew he wanted to massage the fat of your thighs, the same ones he practically drools over whenever he has the pleasure of getting to see you in shorts. he knew he wanted to play with your tits; he was desperate to find out how sensitive they were. always wondering if he could make you come just from sucking on them. all and all, mark knew for his first time he wanted it to be special. unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

bff! mark who goes on some random mission cecil sends him on one hot summer day. he expects to be there and back by the days end, and he was. the alien creature that was disturbing some beach goers was shockingly easy to defeat. the only thing he wasn't expecting was the sweet gas it let out upon its death that left mark woozy. his flight home was a blur - he couldn't remember the plane he narrowly missed or the flock of birds he frightened. all he could think about was getting home. not to his - but yours.

bff! mark who stumbles through your bedroom window - not before flying right into it first. you were surprised it didn't shatter from the impact. you jump upon hearing the loud thunk of his body hitting the glass before running to your window to see mark in a daze on the ground below. your friend rips his mask off in an attempt to orientate himself and you call out to him. he shakes himself awake, floating back up and gliding into the now open window.

bff! mark who is not acting right. he's sweaty and jittery and completely out of it. he can barely form a sentence let alone a thought - unless it has to do with nestling his cock deep in your pussy. it takes you an embarrassing amount of time to realize what is happening. at first you think he must've lost too much blood - all though he looks pristine all things considered. your hands search over the fabric of his suit, trying to feel for what your eyes are obviously missing as mark all but hangs onto you. your palm skims over the ridges of his abs while your other arm shakes from supporting his weight on yours. he digs his face deep into your neck upon the invasion of your hand on his abdomen - his body practically vibrating under your attention as he lets out a soft moan. "mark, talk to me. what happened?" you ask, desperate to discover what has your best friend acting like this. the only response you get is his raspy breath in your ear. your skin tingles from his heat on you and you struggle to keep the both of you up right.

you guide the two of you to your bed, setting mark down on the plush fabric of your comforter causing him to slump over. he groans from the loss of contact - his eyes squeezing shut while his mouth pleads for you. "i need you, please," he begs. his arms feeling heavy as he reaches out for you and his whole body shakes, like he was suddenly in pain.

"mark what happened?" you ask, grabbing his hand that was lamely searching for your body. he wastes no time dragging you down beside him - suddenly having no issue finding his strength.

"please," he sobs, pulling you flush against him. "it hurts when i can't feel you," he admits which only leaves you more confused.

"i don't understand, mark," you tell him. his eyes shoot open and it's then you notice how large his pupils are. "jesus mark..." you gasp at the sight, his eyes almost completely taken over by the blacks of his pupils. "we need to call cecil," you tell him and he groans.

"don't need cecil... i need you," his bottom lip quivers and his hands abandon you as he searches for a way to get his suit off. you watch your friend struggle with the suit he wears every day - desperately grabbing at the fabric before ultimately deciding to rip it off. you hear the tear loud in your ears as he rips it down the center, exposing his glistening skin and a whole lot more underneath.

"mark, oh my god," you cough out, not before looking away upon the realization he is completely naked underneath. you can tell he is struggling ridding his limbs of the tight fabric from the way the bed shifts under his weight.

"i think we really need to call cecil," you tell him shyly, refusing to look over at him. you hear him groan again - much more childish then before. he's getting frustrated - and desperate. his hand reaches for yours and you jump at the contact.

"c'mere" he practically whispers, pulling you by your hand back into him. you close your eyes when your head makes contact with his chest - terrified of seeing your friend's naked body in such a vulnerable state. you can tell he successfully freed himself from his suit by the soft skin of his legs rubbing against your own - clad in only your sleep shorts. you lay tense beside him, unwilling to move which just wont do.

bff! mark who pulls your body onto his. he picks you up like you weigh nothing just to plop the fat of your ass against his dick. you're rigid against him, realizing you can feel his dick throbbing against the curve of your rear. "fuuuuuuuck," he lets out, his own body relaxing after finally getting an inch of the attention he's been needing.

"mark," you can barely get out, swallowing roughly while you feel your best friend rock steadily against you. his precum wicks against the fabric of your shorts and you feel the cold, wet fluid on your right cheek. "mark... what are you doing," you ask him - unsure if he even knows. he doesn't respond, just grunts while bucking pathetically against you and you feel terrible for taking note of just how big he is - but how could you not? it had sprung out of his suit painfully red and stiff and here he is rubbing it on you. you begin to grow dizzy from the realization of what was actually happening to you: mark, your best friend, the guy you grew up with and had a painfully pathetic crush on is hot and bothered underneath you, of all people. while you're deep in thought, he shifts, grabbing the base of his dick and shoving it into the right leg hole of your shorts before continuing to rock - savoring the feeling of his cock sandwiched between your shorts and underwear. you're speechless - utterly confused yet entirely turned on. you feel guilty - sure that mark has absolutely no clue who you even are at this point.. that is until he grunts out your name which causes your eyes to open. you look down at him, his usual doe brown eyes are black and his mouth is slack from looking up at you in awe. his hips start to pick up pace upon seeing your eyes on him - his body burning for more.

bff! mark who can't wait anymore. he needs to be inside you. "in.. in.. in.." he's chanting, moving your body as he pleases without so much as a struggle. he flips you around until you're beneath him, his toned body resting just above yours. you can practically feel his heat wafting off of him - threatening to cook you alive. his eyes are still glued to yours - like they're the only things he wants to look at. they're intense which causes you to look away, now focusing on his wide shoulders encompassing you. you feel oddly safe underneath his strong body before an overwhelming wave of arousal ripples down you. he shivers above you - his whole body shuddering like he felt the exact same sensation as you just now. he reaches down - ripping your shorts and panties in one go - freeing them from your body and giving him access to where he wants the most. his hand reaches down to check if you're ready for him and you both gasp at what he finds. his warm fingers explore your cunt - running his calloused pads against the velvety skin that is slick with your desire for him. it's almost like his brain has a moment of clarity - like he knows its his first time seeing your cunt and he should take the time to savor this moment - to feel your walls snug against his digits but that goes as quickly as it comes and he's back to his mission of getting his dick as deep inside you as possible.

bff! mark who all but forces his way in. he's on autopilot - plunging his tip past your entrance and sinking himself in. he can feel your pussy resisting his girth and a whine catches in his throat. "mark.." you cry out softly, "go slow... please," he hears you and normal mark would rather die than hurt you. normal mark would have taken hours to prep you for him to ensure when he finally sunk into your warmth that you would be ready for him. but this wasn't normal mark - this was mark high on something and the only cure for it was his tip kissing your cervix. he continues pushing himself deeper and deeper and your body has no choice but to accept him completely. you're uncomfortably full when he reaches the hilt and he breathes out a sigh of relief. you sniffle below him and instead of pulling out and apologizing until his vocal chords fry he only reaches down to kiss the tear streaming down your cheek.

"d'you feel me?" he can't help but ask... god do you feel him? he can see himself poking through your tummy! "s'sooooo good," he murmurs, dragging his dick out of your gummy walls, only to shove himself back in. he's hypnotized, watching how when he inches out the bulge disappears - only to reappear when his cock slides right back in.

"mark -god," you cry, feeling his veiny cock drag against your walls, each drag sweeter than the last as your body gets used to his intrusion. your winces turn into whines that mark catches in his mouth. his lips are soft against yours and they feel like the missing piece to your puzzle. you move your lips against his and he sinks down lower, resting on his elbows. your bodies rub against each other as mark fucks you. you can feel every bump of his perfect abs and smooth pecs beneath the fabric of your tank top. the same tank top that has ridden up your body from each snap of hips that fuck you into your sheets. you reach behind mark, running your palms down his muscled back - enjoying the feeling of the individual muscles moving as he guides himself in and out of your sweet cunt.

bff! mark who you realize can last for hours. he's been fucking you for what seems like an entire day - failing to run out of steam - or even cum. he's fucked you in every position imaginable. you've been on your back, on your stomach, your knees, your side, on him....

you two only have the sounds of your pussy - stuffed full of his cum - to listen to. the squishy sounds bounce off the walls of your bedroom and into your ears. the sweet snap of his hips punish your g-spot repeatedly - his full weight on top of you, his cock slipping inside of you from behind. by this point you are more out of it than mark, who by his fourth orgasm is finally starting coming back down to earth.

"i always knew you would feel this good," he huffed out, breath hot in your ear while his tongue reaches out to lick the ridges of your earlobe. you can't speak at this point, the only thing on your mind is the rhythmic plap plap plap of his hips against yours. both of you are covered in each other's arousal - spreading it all over every time your skin meets. his v-line is drenched in your sticky arousal and he doesn't think his body could look any better than this.

"you still with me?" he asks you, calling you by your childhood nickname. he chuckles to himself when you don't respond to him, still just focused on his fat tip reaching places you didn't know existed. he's been in his right state of mind about two orgasms from you ago, but instead of that causing him to stop - he realized he only gets one time to give you a good first impression. and he was definitely going to give you a good one if he could help it.

bff! mark who doesn't hesitate to eat his cum out of you once everything is said and done. what can he say? nothing in this world could taste better than the flavor of you both connecting in the most intimate way possible. his tongue drags and slurps against you while you twitch and cry. of course he's eating you out from behind, ensuring his nose teases your entrance while his tongue flicks on your little clit. you're laying flat on your stomach, face buried in one of your pillows from the overwhelming feeling.

when he finally comes up he's drenched - lower face coated in your mixture and he pulls your head up to give you a sloppy kiss. ensuring you, too, get the essence of the both of you on your face.

[squipa]

let me shatter into you

— aka jason knows better than to let anyone get away with hurting you

———

your eyes trace the brown-yellow bruise forming on your wrist, the consequence of some asshole on the street too drunk to remember it isn’t polite to grab pretty girls. you would’ve let it go, really, it’s gotham, this kind of thing happens. unfortunately for the poor bastard, he had the misfortune of forgetting his sense in front of jason todd.

you try to hide the bruise before your boyfriend can see it, sliding the tarnished patch of skin under the sleeve of your jacket with haste— but he catches it anyways. of course he does. you can faintly see shocks of green lightning crackling in his ocean blue eyes, a precursor to the white hot rage stemming from his chest to the rest of his body.

you gently squeeze his arm, noting how tense the muscles in his bicep are. you know jason. you know he loves you differently— like you’re something fragile. he worships you, taking care of you like you’re a marble statue and he’s terrified of finding cracks. so something as small as a bruise, no matter how tiny or how minor, it makes him lose control.

he gently removes your hand from his arm, pressing a chaste kiss against your bruise. “why don’t you go back to that café, yeah? i’ll join you in a minute.” he says, looking down at you with a soft smile. if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he’d completely gotten over the situation, happy as a clam.

but you do know him, and you know that the way his shoulders are tensed and his free hand is fisted in the pocket of his jacket means that he’s enraged.

“jay—“

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, giving you a gentle smile. “please, baby. i don’t want you to see this.”

you should stop it. you should try. but he’s looking at you like that and your morals suddenly become incredibly loose. you hesitate, remembering the waves of repulsion you felt moments ago when that idiot bastard yanked you towards him. “just… don’t hurt him bad.”

jason nods, turning you around and guiding you forward, watching until you turn towards the cafe before he focuses his attention on the man, who is still too piss drunk to comprehend how badly he had fucked up. you hear jason before the door fully closes behind you, an echo of “so you think that’s how you should treat a woman?”

he’s terrifying. that drunk idiot must be terrified.

and he’s yours. scary dog privileges and all that. it makes you feel warm, safe, loved, protected— you’re irrevocably in love with that. with him.

he comes back in a few minutes, maybe fifteen? the wait stretched on for hours in your mind. his knuckles are bloody, but none of it is his. he cleans up in the bathroom before sliding next to you on the cushioned side of your half-booth, wrapping an arm and your shoulder, breathing you in like a man starved.

“he’s fine.” he says quietly, so only you can hear it. “just made sure he learned to keep his hands to himself.”

you close your eyes, leaning into him, into his warmth. you don’t say anything— you don’t have to, the way you bury yourself against him is admission enough. his arms wrap around you and the bruise fades back into your skin. your heart beats with more love than you thought it capable of producing, your chest swelling like it’s about to burst.

you press a gentle kiss against his chest and everything makes sense again.

———

it’s always when i say i’m not gonna write that inspiration strikes

[viennakarma]

Just the Same

Lestappen x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: After many years, you finally found your soulmates, but what happens when they're in an already established relationship and you become the odd one out?

Word count: 4.7k

Tags: Female reader, established Lestappen, soulmate AU, angst, daddy issues, trust issues, max is a lil mean (he's overwhelmed), not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Notes: Thank you so much to the anon who sent this request! I'm sorry it took me so long to finally get to it, but I was writing it slowly. Anyways, here it is, part 2 is halfway through so let me know if you want to be tagged and what you would like to see in it! Comments and feedback are appreciated.

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You always had that emptiness of missing your soulmate. It was an uneasy feeling, not too painful, but still it was a feeling that was always lingering there, somewhere deep down. It got worse as you got older, and you saw your friends, family, everyone eventually finding their halves, falling in love, getting married.

It got particularly hard during holidays, when you’d sit around with your family and their soulmates, and you’d be all alone, wishing and praying you’d find yours.

Eventually, you’d find yourself browsing the government website where they talked about what to do if you never find your soulmate, support groups and the last resource, medicines to deal with soulmate absences. Many people lived a good, healthy life even if they never got to meet their soulmate and you started to try and make peace with the fact that you never might.

You laid awake, staring at the soulmate tattoo on your wrist. It was a monogram of your initial and the initial of your soulmate, but it only had your initial and it’d be complete the moment you and your soulmate first touched. You had looked at your parents’ tattoo many times when they weren’t looking, too busy staring lovingly into each other’s eyes to notice you.

-

You were walking the shore, it was a warm summer night, you had just watched the sunset by yourself, sitting on a bench with an ice cream cone. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle, and you quickly looked around trying to find the reason for that strange feeling. The pier was considerably full, people coming and going, a lot of locals and tourists, so it was hard to tell where that feeling came from. You kept walking and looking around when you stumbled into someone, hard. So hard it had you falling on your ass on the ground. You looked up to see one of the most handsome men you had ever seen.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” He said politely, offering a hand to help you up, but as soon as he pulled you up, you felt your soulmate mark tingle, and when you looked, a letter C showed up on top of your own initial, and as you looked at his wrist, both of you shocked, your initial showed up on top of his own monogram.

“Oh, my god…” You whispered, noticing his monogram wasn’t just his initial, it had another one too, an M, “What…?”

“I think… we might be soulmates…” Charles said with a startled giggle, “I’m Charles, by the way.”

You said your name back and offered a hand, exchanging a handshake and it felt good, a special kind of warmth spreading through your chest.

“I- I thought I already had found my soulmate…” Charles said, suddenly, “but…” He touched his own tattoo, “we might be a trio.”

Charles smiled as he offered his hand, and you took it, letting him guide you wherever. It didn’t matter when the feel of his touch was so soothing, so right.

Trios of soulmates aren’t common, but they’re not exactly rare. You had met a few through your lifetime, and your own grandparents from your maternal side were a trio of soulmates. Charles seemed eager, happy, and you allowed yourself to be just as giddy, he spoke fast, in a heavy accent looking like he was besides himself for having found you.

“I… I had always had this lingering feeling that something was amiss, even after I met Max, but I thought it was just my mind playing pranks on me… Oh, by the way, Max is my boyfriend and soulmate, and he’s probably yours too!” Charles was speaking a hundred words per minute and you could only smile at him, as he invited you to his car, to drive you to his boyfriends’ place, for you guys to meet because he could bet Max’s initial would join his on your soulmate mark. 

When you arrived at a fancy building, Charles guiding you to the elevator, you two looked at each other. Charles was flushed and breathless, looking happy.

“Max, mon coeur!” Charles called out as he dragged you into a big apartment, your hands intertwined together.

Max was a big guy, blonde, tall and handsome and his gorgeous eyes had your breath hitching on your throat when they met yours for the first time, the same feeling of the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. He had a confused face as he came out of one of the rooms, his eyes immediately dropping to Charles’ hand around yours.

“What is this, Charles?” His face was stormy, like he was getting angry.

“She is it. She is our soulmate…” Charles said, tugging you forward, closer to Max and you could see his contempt, like he didn’t like that one bit, it made you cringe internally, wanting to look good, to leave a good impression.

“I don’t think this is right…” Max said, carefully picking his words. You could sense his hesitation but you could also see how he was being careful to not hurt Charles’ feelings.

“It is, look!” Charles showed his soulmate mark, your initial now engraved on top of the C and the M.

Charles, for his part, looked so excited that he failed to notice the tension, Max’s hesitation and you with your stomach dropping to your feet. You felt crushed, the giddiness and the happiness you had felt meeting Charles now dampened by Max’s evident displeasure with all of it.

Despite being painfully aware of Max’s dislike of the situation, for a while you thought it was just the suddenness of everything, of him being used to only Charles as a soulmate. You attributed it to him being caught by surprise.

So you gently removed your hand from Charles’ and offered it to Max in a handshake. He hesitated, taking a couple of steps back, pretending to be busy with something else. You dropped your hand back to your sides.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said with a tentative smile, despite the weird feeling of a knot in your chest tightening, making your insecurities bloom, your eyes meeting Max’s again.

-

Slowly, you started to be included in their routine. You knew that if it were by Charles’ decision, you’d probably have moved on day one. But you needed the space to adjust to the idea, you spent so long thinking you would never find your soulmate that finding out there were two of them was a little unnerving. And also, to let Max adjust to your existence, as he seemed a little reluctant still.

So you started getting to know each other every Wednesday night, when you usually went to their places, and you ordered food and chatted about life, about childhood, family, everything and anything.

And so, Wednesday dates became twice a week, and then two dinners and a lunch, and soon, you were part of each other’s routine. An intricate routine was built as it went, your meetings, your dates, they flying you out to the places they went for pre-season.

Despite integrating into each other’s lives fairly quickly, you still were keeping a safe distance, you had not kissed or even made love yet. You knew you had to take things slow, adapt to the change as much as you wanted to jump in head first. Max was… trying. You could tell he was trying, but he had a hard time adapting to abrupt changes. Charles called you over one time, alone, to explain that Max needed some time and patience, and even when they first got together, he had a hard time adjusting to a soulmate, to feeling them, to get familiar with the person and the avalanche of emotions that came with them.

It took a couple of weeks for Max to touch you, for your soulmate marks to grow complete.

You were flying overnight with them in Max’s private plane, you, reading a book in one of the seats, Max across from you on his phone. Charles was long gone, lying on the bed inside the other room, sleeping soundly for a couple of hours, through the night flight. You could feel Max’s gaze on you every few minutes, sometimes you looked back at him with a lazy little smile. You had put on a few of your PTOs to accompany them to the first race of the year, to try and get yourself immersed a little more in what seems to be a great part of their lives.

You tried staying awake, shouldering through the pages of your book, forcing yourself to read it. But the exhaustion was slowly creeping up, the letters starting to blur.

You blinked, and when you realized, you were waking up, feeling your soulmate mark tingling slightly. You looked up, Max was carrying you, the strong scent of his cologne filling your lungs, his warmth around you as you blinked again, confused.

“Sleep now, I’m taking you to bed,” He muttered, and it was the softest you’d ever heard his voice address you as.

You didn’t say anything as you felt him place you on a soft bed, low lights as you closed your eyes, feeling Charles’ warmth again. After a little sleepy scooting, you were half asleep between both Charles and Max. Charles’ legs between yours, his cheek against your shoulder on the right side, Max to your left side, pulling a blanket on top of you three. His arm reached across you, laying on your middle and his hand landing on Charles, like he wanted to feel both of you in your arms. Before fully falling asleep, you stared at his wrist, your initial finally joining his and Charles’ on his skin.

With a soft smile, you felt the happiest you’d ever felt, cocooned between the two loves of your life, relaxed as you fell asleep.

When you woke up again, a few hours later, Max wasn’t in bed, he was back at his seat, talking on his phone, while Charles was awake beside you, lazily doom scrolling, his legs still tangled with yours.

“Slept well, mon coeur?” He asked as he noticed you waking up.

“Yeah, I did…” You mumbled, rubbing your face, “Did Max sleep?”

“Yes, for a couple of hours. He doesn’t sleep much during flights. Why?”

“Did you see?” You whispered, almost giddy as you raised your hand to show him your wrist, mark now complete as Max finally touched you. Charles smiled softly, pulling your hand and placing a gentle kiss to your soulmate mark.

“See? He’s warming up…” Charles whispered back, eyes shining.

When you arrived in Australia, going straight to the hotel, smiling with Charles as Max made the check-in, your stomach dropped when the receptionist talked about “Two rooms”, not just one for you three. You gulped as Max gave you one of the keys, took the other one as he took Charles’ hand in his.

Your eyes dropped to their hands, and when your gaze met Charles’ he knew, you could see the same hurt in his eyes as in yours. You followed them into the elevator, and your room was right beside theirs. With a lump in your throat, you didn’t trust yourself to look at them one last time before entering, so you just didn’t, the first tears falling down your cheeks as the door clicked shut behind you.

After a quick shower, you sat in bed, wrapped in a robe telling yourself that this was fine. You’ve met them only a couple of months before, it was natural that they’d take time to adjust to you. Despite reading and hearing all about things like once you meet your soulmate, you never want to be apart from them, nor them from you.

It’s fine, you whispered to yourself again.

Around an hour later, Charles texted you to get ready for breakfast, and the puffy of your eyes was long gone as you dressed in a casual little dress and went downstairs to the restaurant to meet them.

Both were already there as you joined, walking towards them, you noticed how they checked you out, and that was almost enough to forget the fact you weren’t sharing a room with them, you chatted some more over breakfast. Despite Max being still slightly distant, you could see he was trying. Trying to talk to you, actively listening to your answers, joining in conversation.

Later that day, they ended up having to go to media day, which they asked if you wanted to go with. They said there wasn’t much going on, and for that exact reason you decided to go, it’d be better to get around the paddock on a day that it wasn’t full of people.

They showed you around, and that moment Max was slightly more talkative than he’d ever been, probably because it was a comfortable subject for him, talking about racing, about cars and tracks. You loved hearing him explain, talk about his passion, what he did on the daily and his routine there.

At some point, Charles left to record something with his team, but you and Max barely noticed his absence as you listened to the champion talking. Then, someone found you two and said Max had to go.

Max left you at the hospitality.

“Will you be okay here?” He asked, reaching into his pocket.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. If anything happens I’ll text you or Charles,” You said, and he held up your paddock passes, gently placing the string around your neck.

“If anything happens, you can go back to my room. You remember how to get there?” Max said, pulling your hair atop the strings of the passes.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. Thank you, Max.” You whispered with a soft smile and he nodded, seemingly hesitating to hug you or something like that. You watched as he stepped back and went with the team person.

You ate, drank and opened your ipad to do some work, sitting in a far corner of the hospitality room, hoping the headphones would tune out the loud noises of the paddock.

Charles found you first after a couple of hours, he crouched before you, hands on your knees, looking soft.

“Tired of waiting?”

“I’m okay,” You said, reaching for him, gently brushing his hair that was out of place.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel? We might take longer here…” He offered, and you hesitated, despite wanting to stay, you were still somewhat sleepy from the overnight flight.

“I guess I could use a nap, and I might need to go shopping. I didn’t bring many weather appropriate clothes.”

Charles had a driver take you back to the hotel, after a short nap, you went out in the city to buy some clothes for the following days. During your shopping spree, you ended up going to a salon to do your nails, and on a whim, you decided a change would do you good and the boys might appreciate it, and you had the hair stylist darken your hair, and you chopped it off, shoulder length, a cool and fresh haircut.

When you arrived at the track, Charles was the first to greet you, a gentle smile as addressed your new look.

“Oh? Changed your hair? It looks nice, it’s so pretty.”

“Thank you, I thought it was about time I tried something new…” You preened under his praise, turning to Max, hoping to please him somehow.

“You look good,” He said with a little smile while Charles rolled a strand of your hair on his finger, softly feeling its texture.

You don’t tell them you did it to somewhat look more like Charles, to get Max to like you. And the way their eyes lingered softly on you… it meant something. Something that had you feeling a nice little warmth in the pit of your stomach.

Over a couple of days, you three grew more comfortable around each other, especially as you were the one coming into an already established relationship. So you really wanted them to naturally grow easier around you, you didn’t push, but every morning you had breakfast together and dinner too. You liked it, the routine, the softness of easy conversations about life, learning more about theirs, making plans for the future.

That same weekend, the race was… bad. Really bad for both of them, but especially for Max. Charles had started P5 and unfortunately ended P7. But Max… Had started P2 and due to a couple of race incidents and one 10 second penalty, ended up P13. According to what you heard from the race commentary it was his first actual bad race in quite some time. And you could see in his eyes the way he was fuming post-race.

During their post race commitments, you stayed out of their way, you knew they’d have press and meeting with their team, so you stayed at the Ferrari hospitality, grabbed a bite while you researched some way to help their de-stress later, maybe a swim in the hotel pool, or just soaking in the big jacuzzi in their hotel room.

After a couple of grueling hours, you decided to go find Charles first, since he’d probably be in a slightly better place mentally than Max. You went to his little room, but he wasn’t there. A helpful member of the staff said he had gone to see Max, and suggested you went there too.

You made your way through the maze of people towards them, grabbing a couple of small chocolates to give them. Charles had mentioned once that a little sweet treat would always lift their moods after a tough day.

As you arrived at his room, you could hear their voices through the thin walls, and it took you a few steps to notice they seemed to be arguing. You stopped before you could make your presence known, standing behind the door.

“-Look, I know you’re frustrated, the race today was fucking nuts…” Charles started, apparently trying to calm down Max.

“All of this sucks. But you don’t understand… because you’re you…” Max replied, still agitated, “You are kind and welcoming, but this is not cool with me, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t do changes like you, Charlie…” Max sighed, seemingly unable to put into words whatever was plaguing him, “I feel so… I don’t know. I just hate that my car changed, that I’m battling it as much as I’m battling other drivers week in, week out. You’re also changed, Charlie, and I’m- here. And there’s…” Max’s voice died for a moment, and he whispered your name. The sound of it, the contempt in his voice… it had you rooted to the spot.

“What about her?” Charles asked, his voice almost shaky, as if he knew exactly where this was going.

“It was better before!” Max snapped, his voice an octave higher because of the outburst.

You froze, the weight of his words landing right on your chest like a deep, dark blow. Dread filling your lungs and aching like acid as you held onto the wall.

“You don’t mean it,” Charles whispered, sounding disappointed.

“It was, you know that! N-now because of her, we have to rearrange our schedules, and adjust our whole lives to fit her. When it was perfect the way it was before!”

“Don’t say that, Max,” Charles muttered, sounding hurt, “that’s awful.”

“Don’t pretend like this isn’t a lot of change for us, Charlie. We have the same life, we travel the same places, we are almost always in the same time zone, the same bed, face to face. She is not from this life. And now we have to stretch our already packed schedule and life to accommodate her. Do you think this is fair to me?”

Silence. A silence that spoke volumes, a consenting confirmation that Charles probably felt the same. That all your trying, all your efforts amounted to nothing in the grand scheme of things. You were just you and they were Max & Charles, 2-in-1, soulmates, halves of a whole. There was no space for you, there was never another spot available in their midst, in their bed. You were always set to fail, to be the stranger in their relationship.

You stepped away from the room, unable to put yourself through hearing more, walking aimlessly through the paddock. That had been enough for your heart to take, to understand its place in all of this. Even in their lives, there would never be any space for you. You’d never mean to Charles the same as Max, and you’d never mean to Max the same as Charles.

Trying not to cry, you swallowed the thick, painful lump in your throat, eyes red as you fought the tears, to not pull any unwanted attention to yourself as you blended with your surroundings.

You were like one of those sad soulmates stories you had read in forums on the internet, the loose string that would never fit with their counterparts. They could even love you as any soulmates did, but did they like you?

How long had you walked aimlessly? You didn’t know, but eventually, you heard your name being called by Charles, and you turned in time to see them waving you over. Max seemed moody, still, but slightly calmer, controlled.

“We were looking for you,” Charles said with a soft smile, one that made you break a bit more inside.

“I was a bit lost…” You said, unable to hide the redness in your eyes and nose.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, and that caught Max attention, who stared at you more attentively.

“Yeah… just sleepy, I guess.” You lied, which they seemed to buy.

You three ended up going back to Monte Carlo a couple of hours later, both of them not finding any reason to stay there any longer. You kept quiet and distant most of the time. You sat in your seat, trying to read a book but your mind was elsewhere. Your mind was in the decision to make knowing you’re not wanted somewhere and make yourself scarce.

“Hey,” Charles said, and you looked up at him, “We’re going to bed to catch some sleep,” He pointed towards the small room with the big bed you three had slept on, on the way there, Max had changed from his t-shirt into a fluffy sweater, “Wanna come?”

You shook your head softly, “Let me just go through some more of my book. I’ll join you later, okay?”

He nodded, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he went to bed. You watched over your book when he joined Max on the bed, both of them cuddling softly, whispering things you couldn’t hear, intimacy you weren’t privy to.

The odd one out.

You stared at them for a few minutes as they fell asleep, Charles’ face tucked into Max’s neck, his arm around the monegasque, pulling him flush to his side. A blanket pulled up to their waists, cocooning them in warmth and affection. Sharing something you would never be part of.

Your eyes watered as you looked away, trying to tune out the ugly envy that wanted to rip through your chest and flood you. Because you wanted that, so much that the knowledge you won’t have any of it, made your chest constrict in tiny little pieces. The tears fell down after the first hour of their sleep, a sob ripped through your chest but you quickly covered it with your balled up coat, trying to breathe through it, to tone it down. You cried silently for the next few hours, trying to force yourself to stop, but every time you remembered Max’s words, a fresh wave of tears came over you.

Eventually, before sunrise, you managed to go to the bathroom and pull yourself together just enough to let the swelling in your face go down. You managed a nap in the reclined seat, never daring yourself to go to bed with them, despite how much you wanted it.

You woke up with Max touching your arm to wake you up, saying something about putting the seat belt to land. You walked with them quietly to the car, letting them sit together in the back seat while you went to the passenger seat. Max noticed, but he didn’t say anything as Charles sat down beside him, leaning against his shoulder.

You met his eyes through the rearview mirror, looking away after a second.

Whispering, you told the driver the address to your place.

“You’re not coming with us?” Max asked, and you just shook your head.

“I have some work things to fix.” You lied, not looking back at him.

It worked differently with trios. If the three parts were apart from each other, then they all would suffer those symptoms. But if two out of three were together, it didn’t matter much. The two would still feel the lingering absence of their third but they could ultimately live a comfortable, happy life. Your own grandparents, back in the day when Grandpa Joe passed away unexpectedly, your Grandma Everly and Grandpa Harold still managed to live together comfortably despite feeling the absence of their third.

So in a way, you knew Charles and Max would be fine without you.

You, on the other hand, would take the worst of the pain. 

And you were already feeling it, the shake of your hands as you stepped out of the car, quietly. Unnoticed. There was a tight knot coiled in your chest, and as they drove away and you went back home, you could feel it about to snap. You held back as best as you could because you knew the moment you got home it would snap. And break you forever.

And break you it did.

The moment you walked inside your place and the door was safely locked, your first sob ripped through your throat like a thunder, and you allowed your legs to wobble until you slid your back down the wall, until you were nothing but a pool of tears and heartbreak.

It’s a complicated thing, this feeling, this urge to be with them bellied your need to make them happy. But the knowledge that they were happy before you… without you… it stung. And if that was the way to make them happy, you’d do it and bear the short end of the deal. You’d take the pain if it made them happy.

That alone was enough to ease the burning pain in your chest.

So you pulled away.

Forty minutes later, Charles texted you wanting to know if you were still coming over for dinner as you had mentioned in passing during the trip. You lied, telling him you had a family problem to solve. Charles, bless his heart, got worried and offered help. You lied some more saying it wasn’t a big deal.

That’s how you started pulling away, the race two weeks later you had agreed to come, you canceled, saying you had work piled up and you’d have to stay back.

You progressively reduced texting with Charles, deciding to go slow, weaning, so he wouldn’t notice. His calls grew shorter and far between. The wave of heat and comfort you felt hearing their voices, seeing their faces made it worse when you had to hang up the call.

The pain got worse as you stopped talking with them. Your chest would hurt, a pointed pain that came in waves and made your hand press into your chest in a soothing massage.

The less you spoke with them, the pain grew to the point you had to find a doctor. A soulmate doctor who you told you lost your soulmate. Initially she prescribed heart medication, a pill you’d take every morning to ease the aching in your heart. She said that if at any point the pain got worse than the pills could prevent, you’d have to change to the medicine implant.

Soulmates were a complex thing, many times each case bringing complexities of their own, but overall, treatable. The medicine would considerably ease the pain to a liveable point. The depths of their absence will become something manageable, something you’d learn to live with.

edit: guys, everyone asking to be tagged in the comments, will be tagged! just letting y’all know bc I won’t have time to reply to everyone!

[trashytracktales]

Girl i need. NEED. Lando and reader sneaking out of their own wedding to fuck. i can’t get it out of my head pls pls pls pls.

like imagine himmmm: obsessed with how she looks, can’t stop being handsy and touchy and always looking for kisses and attention that at some point he drags her in some bathroom and gets under her massive bridal skirt AAAASSAASNFHDJS i can’t pls pls make it happen 😭😭

5 minutes. 7, tops | LN⁴

☁️ summary ──── Lando has never been the one to resist her. And on their wedding day, when she looks the most beautiful he’s ever seen her, wrapped in white and glowing just for him, he doesn’t even try.

☁️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x Wife!Reader

☁️ rating ──── explicit

☁️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, dirty talk, swearing, banter and emotional intimacy, smut, semi-public, brief fingering & oral ─ (f)receiving, teasing, possessiveness, unprotected (bathroom) sex.

☁️ word count ──── 4.2k

☁️ date ──── Jun. 22, 2025

☁️ a/n ──── Based on this ask, this os was highly requested for some reason, so take a slice until I find a way to finish the other 5 I started 🫴🏻🍰

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” a voice cuts through the air, loud and vibrating with excitement. “For the first time ever, I have the honor to present you: Mr. and Mrs. Norris!”

A set of double doors at the back of the hall swing open, and a wave of applause and cheers rolls forward as the newly married couple appears in sight.

Lando is holding her hand tightly, like he has no plans of letting go ever again. He looks like a fairytale, wearing a tailored black suit with clean lines down the legs, the kind of cut that says money but doesn’t scream it. His shirt is a stark white beneath, the collar buttoned all the way up, his tie coordinating perfectly with her dress without being too much. There’s a hidden message in those seemingly small choices that might go unnoticed. But they say more than words ever could. No loosened collar means a man who knows exactly who he belongs to, and the matching tie means that, from now on, every step is made with her in mind.

His smile is blinding, spreading all over his face and lighting his features with happiness. He’s not smiling for the crowd or cameras, but for her. His eyes keep flicking sideways to catch hers like he still can’t believe this is real.

“Let’s go, Landooo!” someone shouts, making the guests laugh, and his smile blooms even further.

They walk in perfect harmony toward the center of the room, surrounded by clapping and whistles, artificial fog and confetti, and her dress molds softly against her legs as they move, his steps steady and sure, despite the fact that on the inside, Lando already fainted three times, received CPR twice, and died once.

They reach the dance floor, and as the first notes of their song begin to play, everything shifts. The noise drops off almost instantly, the crowd falling silent, while the lights dim just a little. The music fills the room with something much heavier than melody just as Lando places a hand on her waist, fingers brushing the fabric of her dress. Her back fits perfectly against his palm, and when she gazes up at him with those eyes that still make his heart skip more than one beat, lips curling into a smile that’s been haunting his thoughts ever since the day he’s met her, Lando is gone.

Her dress glimmers, hugging her curves like it was crafted for the sole purpose of undoing him. And truth is, it was.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, starting to guide her in the steps they’ve been practicing for months now. It became muscle memory, carved into quiet mornings before he left for work or rehearsed in his driver’s room between practice sessions; they’ve been stealing moments whenever they could, and now everything blends together effortlessly, like it was always meant to lead here.

She giggles, blushing a little but enjoying the way his voice drops when he’s being honest. Honest and absolutely in love with her.

“Don’t you have other lines, Mr. Norris?” she teases, eyes sparkling under her curled lashes.

He leans in, lips slightly brushing her ear. “Not unless you want to show everyone in here how you melt if I say something else,” he replies under his breath.

She looks at him again, emboldened by the intimacy in his words. “Like what?” she challenges him.

Lando’s jaw clenches. He spins her slowly, her dress fanning out, revealing just enough leg to make his vision blur. When she lands back in his arms, her chest presses against him, and he hisses softly.

“For starters, your boobs look insane in that corset,” he says, eyes flicking down for the briefest second.

She exhales a soft sigh, half scandalized, half thrilled, her fingers tightening around his shoulder.

“It’s torture,” adds Lando, his mouth hovering dangerously close to hers. “I was hard the second you walked down that aisle.”

The girl finally gasps, eyes darting to his. “Lando.”

“I’m so serious, baby,” he insists, laughing softly. “It hasn’t let up. I don’t know how I’m supposed to wait ‘til we get home,” he punctuates it with a look so intense that her knees nearly give out. She clutches his shoulder firmly, her pulse slowly rising, everything below her waist aching at the thought. “I just want to fuck my wife.”

Well, shit.

The word echoes in her head like church bells, giving her chills all over her body — wife, wife, wife! She loves the way he says it, like it’s something he’s earned. She melts further into his frame, their bodies brushing in a way far too suggestive for the room full of people watching them.

She lifts her chin, brushing her nose against his in the barest tease of affection. “You’re not the only one suffering, you know,” she whispers, her lips grazing his. “I’ve been a mess since I saw you in this tux,” she continues, smoothing the material with her palms sliding down his chest. “My husband looks like sex.”

Lando lets out a high-pitched chuckle. “Shoot me in the balls, it would hurt less.”

“I really appreciate the visuals,” she laughs in return.

He twirls her once more, slower this time, his eyes never leaving her. When she lands back in his arms, her back arches just slightly, pressing her breasts against his chest. It’s easy to feel the shift in him, and how his fingers tighten around every part of her body that he’s touching.

As the song is coming to an end, Lando’s hand slides up to her throat, holding her there. Her breath catches right away, but he doesn’t wait for permission. He already got it the moment she said yes to him in fornt of their families, friends, and the entire world. So he crashes his mouth to hers, putting up a show for everyone, without shame. It’s not the delicate kind of kiss people expect during a first dance. It’s months of tension and restraint, and the thrill of calling her his wife unleashed all at once. Her fingers curl into the lapels of his suit, so dizzy that she can barely hear the music anymore. But she feels it in the way their bodies sway together, the way the room goes still again, before the crowd erupts in wild applause.

Just as the final chord fades out, his lips leave hers, bringing her back to reality.

“Should we dip?” asks Lando, staring at her with a subtle look.

She arches a brow, grinning. “Dip?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs with a slight tilt of his head, completely serious despite the smirk. “Sneak out. Just for a bit.”

Her eyes widen. “We can’t leave our own wedding, Lando. We literally just got here.”

He smiles, leaning in closer, voice laced with enough honey to make her swoon. “Come on,” he insists. “Just a quickie in the bathroom,” his lips touch her cheek gently as he speaks, “We’ll be five minutes. No one’s gonna notice.”

She pulls back to shoot him a questionable look. “Five minutes?”

Lando rolls his eyes. “Alright. Seven, tops,” he says.

Her pulse is jumping wildly as she presses a hand to his chest, half to hold him back, half to steady herself. “Baby, our parents are here.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “As if we didn’t go at it in my childhood bedroom with my mum watching The Crown across the hall,” says Lando in a casual voice, studying her face. “What?”

“You’re such an idiot,” she says, fighting to hide a smile.

In response, Lando lifts his left hand to her eye level. “Your idiot,” he reminds her, pointing at the ring on his finger. “Forever.”

The girl shakes her head. “Your point?” she asks.

Lando grins. “I’ll make it fast, darling,” he assures her, his hand sliding around her waist, fingers pressing into the small of her back. “I’ll be in and out. Like, literally”

“So romantic,” she says sarcastically. “My husband, everybody!”

Just then, the voice of the wedding planner cuts in again, echoing through the mic like a divine intervention, “Now that the dance floor is officially heated up,” she calls cheerfully, “We’d love for all of you to join the lovely couple and let’s get this party started!”

She hesitates. For just a second, and that second is all he needs. He sees the flicker in her eyes, the war between logic and lust and, luckily, he knows her too well to know exactly which one’s winning this time.

With a playful wink, he intertwines his fingers with hers and gives her hand a gentle, insistent tug. “Come on, Mrs. Norris.”

As they weave through the crowd, hands still clasped tightly, guests stop them every few steps, offering hugs and heartfelt congratulations. They smile, nod, thank everyone politely, but there’s a quiet urgency in their movements, a shared look between them like they’re trying not to be swept up in the chaos. If they could melt into the walls unnoticed, they would, but right now, all they want is to be alone.

For just five minutes. Seven, tops.

The second they disappear around the corner, his hand is already on her waist, pressing her back into the wall beside the bathroom door. His mouth finds hers again as hot as earlier, pulling soft whimpers out of her.

The bathroom is nothing short of extravagant, like everything else at this wedding. Soft golden sconces glow against marble, casting a warm light that reflects off the tall mirrors lining on the walls. The sinks are sculpted from polished stone, ivory and veined with gold, with delicate faucets that look more like something made by Michelangelo than plumbing. Plush white hand towels are rolled perfectly beside trays of expensive perfumes and colognes. Everything sparkles, and it smells like luxury: jasmine, sweet vanilla, and a hint of champagne.

They stumble through the door like they’re drunk, her giggles breathless and lips kiss-bitten, while Lando spins her gently and backs her toward the counter. Her body presses to the edge, dress fanning out as she leans back whithout resistence. Then her leg slips out from the slit in her gown, forcing Lando to drop to his knees immediately, as if pulled by gravity.

He shoots her one look, with dark eyes and puffy lips from all the kissing. His hands trail slowly up her thighs, parting them delicately, then pulling her panties down. The white of her dress pools around his shoulders, brushing against his cheeks and collar, framing him in folds of pearlescent fabric.

Her mouth goes dry at the sight of him; he looks angelic between her legs, surrounded by pure white, but when his tongue touches her, there’s nothing holy about it.

Lando groans the second his mouth finds her folds, his hot tongue lapping confident strokes that make her head tip back against the mirror with a dull thud. He said quickie, but doesn’t rush. He tastes her like he’s savoring the first gulp of water after the Singapore Grand Prix, and hearing her silent moans only makes him thirstier.

“Lan…” she whines, fingers tangling in his curls.

He smiles against her skin, already pulling back, lips wet and glistening. “You are a fucking dream,” he tells her. “Such a mess f’me, you don’t even need prepping.”

He’s up in a blink of an eye, lips brushig her jaw so lightly that she’s sure she imagined it, until Lando cups her face gently, thumb brushing her cheek as he tilts her chin up, searching for her eyes. The warmth of his other hand slides back between her legs, fingers sliding through slick heat. All he gives her is just a couple of slow pumps, the kind meant to tease and announce their presence, not satisfy. His eyes stay locked on hers the whole time, reading every shift of her breath like it’s a private language only he understands.

“You like being sneaky so much that you’re dripping already, hm?”

She’s trembling, thighs closing around his wrist. “No,” the girl lies.

Lando hisses. “No?” he shakes his head, laughing softly. “I think you like knowing they’re all out there celebrating us, while you’re in here soaking my fingers.”

He’s well aware of the effect he has on her; always were. He knows all it takes is just a little look, and she’s done for. It’s a power he’s been taking advantage of countless times in the past, but this time, he uses it almost like a gentle reminder. While maintaing that look, he unbuckles his belt with the other hand, the soft clink echoing in her head like choir of angels. Then, he unzips with practiced urgency, pushing his pants and briefs down just enough to free himself.

And she realizes that Lando was nothing but honest, as usual.

His cock is already hard and flushed, the head swollen, leaking slightly at the tip. He wraps his hand around the base with a quiet hiss through his teeth, dragging it once down his length. He keeps his other hand working between her legs in the meantime, coaxing her higher with every stroke.

“See what my wife does to me?” he asks rhetorically, then slows, easing his fingers out with maddening care, watching her with a knowing gaze.

She can barely breathe at this point.

Deftly, Lando’s hands land on her hips, hiking her dress up her waist, until white silk bunches around them, revealing the heated skin beneath. He hooks one of her legs up over his waist, angling her until her core presses right against him. He knows it was the perfect choice, because her back arches in an instant, and breath starts stuttering when she feels the head of his cock sliding through her folds, catching on her clit and dipping back down, spreading her wetness over both of them.

The skin-on-skin contact makes her whimper in anticipation.

“My pretty liar,” she says, making Lando puff out a sigh. She lets out a shaky breath, body already aching, but the longer he lingers, the more her frustration bubbles up. Her fingers grip his jaw, forcing him to look at her. “You said five minutes,” she whispers, eyes narrowed but glittering. “And now you’re playing games?”

His jaw clenches as he pushes forward, just enough for the head to catch against her entrance. Then, continuing to hold her gaze, he thrusts in. All the way.

Lando chokes on a breath. “I said seven, tops,” he defends himself.

He stills inside, eyes closing for a moment, brain gone entirely blank at the feeling of her, as if it’s the first time. Her pussy grips him tight, warm and slick and perfect and his, and for a second, all he can do is focus on his breathing. No coherent thoughts, no words, just the mind-shattering realization that he’s buried inside his wife.

Each breath is punctuated by the slow beginning of his hips rolling, starting to move, dragging his cock against her walls again and again, as if trying to relearn every inch of her from the inside out.

She’s maddening around him, her body molding to his like it was made for him to hold. In his selfishness, Lando actually believes she was. Because it’s not just the physical. It’s everything that bonded them over time. And now, it’s the weight of the ring on her hand as it clutches at his shoulder. The way she gasps his name like it’s the only word she knows. The look in her eyes that says, I’m only yours.

His breath gets shallow and unsteady in a way she’s never heard him before. Like Lando’s unraveling in real time, coming apart at the seams just from being inside her. And she moves with him, meeting every thrust with the same need. Her nails scrape gently down the back of his head, then dig in when he shifts just right, making her entire body shiver in response.

“Mine,” he chokes on the words, thrusts slowing for a heartbeat as if to savor it, while she hums in pleasure. “Feel how wet you are? That’s all me, yeah?”

She nods, but it’s not enough. She turns her head, mouth finding his jaw, his neck, trying to stay anchored in the moment while her body rocks with his. “Always you, my love,” she replies, sounding like she’s on the verge of despair.

His laugh is breathless, like she’s just broken something open inside him. “Fuck, I won’t last. Two minutes,” he informes her. “Dropped to two minutes.”

She laughs, too. But his next thrust is harder, less controlled, making her cry out instead, all needy and high-pitched. She gasps his name, fingers clawing at the lapels of his tuxedo jacket as his hips continue to move in earnest, thrusting into her with a delicious rhythm. She fumbles with the tie and buttons, trying to peel the fabric from his shoulders, craving more of his heat and skin and the way his muscles flex every time he slams forward. But Lando’s pace only increases, and it ruins her effort.

His jacket slips halfway off, one sleeve hanging limp from his arm, the other clinging stubbornly to his shoulder. He can’t stop. The sight of her like this, with her legs spread, dress hitched up, and soft body pulling him in with every thrust has obliterated every ounce of patience he had left.

“Fucking, fuck,” he growls, burying his face in her neck. His mouth presses a small kiss there, but his lips twitch with restraint, the need to mark her thrumming violently through him.

“Don’t,” she warns, knowing every filthy thought that’s ever crossed Lando’s mind.

“Please,” he whines. “Let them know I fucked you in the bathroom at our own wedding.”

Her voice trembles as she moans loudly, her arms locking around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. Her back arches off the counter, hips meeting his, as her body folds to the rhythm.

“You’re already fucking up my wedding dress,” she gasps, breath hot in his ear. “Trust me, baby. They’ll know.”

Lando pulls back to look at her, sweat beading at his temple, a gremlin-like smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s the only time you’re wearing it anyway.”

After that, his hands clamp down on her waist, firm to fuck her harder, burying himself to the hilt with each movement. She cries out, head falling on his shoulder, completely unraveling for him as her slick walls tighten around his cock. Her body clings to him in every possible way, shaking with the promise of release, and all Lando can do is just hold on, driven by the feel of her, the sound of her, the truth of what they are now.

Husband and wife. And so completely owned by each other.

Her body is ready to give up under his force, every inch of her strung tight with need, already teetering on the edge. Her hair’s falling in messy waves around her flushed face, eyes glassy as she encourages him to take her harder.

Fueled by her demand, Lando does exactly as he’s told.

“My wife.”

Thrust.

“Mine.”

Thrust.

“Making me go crazy.”

Thrust-thrust-thrust.

His words slam into her as hard as his hips do, leaving her gasping, dazed, dizzy. And wanting more. She lets out a string of moans, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket still stubbornly clinging to his shoulder. Her entire world feels like it’s collapsing around the rhythm of his body and the ragged devotion in his voice.

“You have no idea,” he grunts, “How fucking excited I am to fuck you like this for the rest of our lives.”

“I might have a few ideas,” she replies. “Especially if this is you before our wedding night. What’re you gonna do when I’m wearing nothing but your last name and asking for more?” she asks, tilting her hips enough to make him feel the shift. “Think you can keep up with me, husband?”

A guttural noise tears from his throat as he slams into her faster, chasing the release like it’s his lifeline. Their bodies slap together with wet sounds, the soft rustle of her dress and the quiet creak of the counter drowned beneath their wild breathing.

“That answers your question, eh?”

“Shit. Yes. Fuck,” she replies. “Lando,” the girl pants, mouth brushing his.

And then she breaks. Her orgasm hits fast and hard, her thighs shaking, body trembling as she cries out, voice echoing off the walls of his skull. But before she can fully scream, Lando covers her mouth with his, swallowing the sound.

Their kiss is messy and soaked in panting breaths and wet lips, and with her convulsing in pleasure beneath him, is too much for Lando to hold back. He thrusts deep once, twice, then groans into her mouth as he spills all his love and lust inside her. The blinding sensation knocks the air from his lungs, their bodies shaking together as they fall apart and hold each other through it.

Trying to catch her breath, her cheek rests against his shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around his back, one of her legs still hooked around his waist. His hands stay firm on her hips, not wanting to let go, still inside her, connected, and in no rush to move, because time doesn’t exist in this little corner of their universe.

But a few moments later, Lando lifts his gaze, catching sight of them in one of the tall mirrors. The reflection hits him hard: his dark curls are pointing in every direction, his jacket hangs crooked from one shoulder, tie just halfway undone. Her dress is wrinkled and bunched around her thighs, and her lipstick is smudged everywhere on his face from all the kisses they never planned to stop. And what truly gets him is the look in his own eyes — he’s glowing. Like he’s just crossed a finish line, but this time it wasn’t just him in the car.

He sees her holding onto him like she always will.

He sees himself holding her like she’s the only safe place he’s ever known.

Suddenly, he realizes he’s a husband now. Her husband. And he’s going to wake up to this woman for the rest of his life. Through every challenge, every joy, and every storm, he has a partner that’s here to stay. Even when life throws everything it can at him, she will be his constant. His only source of peace. His home.

Lando’s throat tightens, emotion rising so violently it nearly drowns him. Gently, he leans in, pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, breathing her in as he closes his eyes.

“I promise to always be yours,” he starts whispering his vows again. “To protect your heart like it’s my own.”

Her breath hitches, her brain just coming out of the haze of pleasure caused by her husband.

“To love you when things are easy,” he continues, “And love you even harder when they’re not.”

With teary eyes, her arms squeeze him tighter. Even if she finds it hard to hold him like that, because her body melts under the weight of his words, she does it because she knows how important it is for Lando to remind her that, at the end of the day, it’s about this: them.

She’s just about to whisper something back after Lando stops talking, but he’s always managed to leave her speechles, one way or another. This time, he reduces her to a soft moan when he slowly pulls out of her. At that, her body clenches involuntarily as the absence of him leaves her sensitive and throbbing. The warm aftermath of their pleasure slips slowly out of her, making her thighs twitch around the sensation.

Lando sighs as he watches it happen, forehead dropping to her shoulder.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, voice raspy as if he just woke up. “Didn’t mean to ruin the moment, but fucking hell. It kills me every time I pull out,” he explains, drawing back to look at her, his hand trailing over her thigh, possessive and adoring all at once.

She exhales a breathy laugh despite herself, her chest still rising and falling from the intensity, cheeks all flushed. “You’re such a boy,” she scolds playfully, giving his shoulder a half-hearted push, still giggling.

“I’m grieving,” he says, faking innocence.

“You’re done,” she cuts him off, the affection in her voice making it sound more like a vow than a complaint.

Still perched on the counter, she leans forward, trying to tame the wild curls now clinging to his forehead. Her fingers thread through his hair with the kind of tender frustration only a woman in love can pull off, pushing it back, smoothing it, even if it’s completely in vain.

Lando closes his eyes and hums like a man being worshipped. “That’s your mess, by the way,” he says satisfied.

“Yeah,” she agrees with a smile. “My beautiful mess.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[buckysleftbicep]

soft hands, heavy heart 𐙚 b.b

pairing: inexperienced!new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, soft smut, praise kink (sorta), slow first time, unprotected sex, creampie, a tinge of angst if you squint, the fluff makes up for it

summary: bucky wants you, but he just doesn’t know how to let himself have you. but you’ll spend every second showing him how it feels to be wanted.

word count: 4.5k

author's note: hi my sweethearts! i'd like to think that after bucky returns, he would need a lot of reassurance and tlc, especially after all he has went through. i feel that he would love to be guided and to know he is loved. so i hope this fic encapsulates that 💌 love ya guys and stay safe out there! requests are open!

so in love with soft!bucky

It starts with his hands. Or rather, what they don’t do.

They hold yours when you’re walking down quiet halls in the compound, fingers interlocked, the brush of calloused skin a comfort more than anything else. 

They linger at the small of your back when no one’s looking—firm, steady, grounding you when the world gets too loud.

They cradle your face when you’re scared, trembling, coming down from the edge of something violent. Missions gone wrong, intel turned sour, blood on your skin. In those moments, his hands are everything you ever needed. Steady and safe.

But when your lips are on his?

When your body presses into his in the quiet dark of your shared bedroom, heat blooming between the both of you like something long-restrained finally breaking free?

That’s when they stop.

Always. Just… stop.

Bucky, your boyfriend, your partner, the man who has grown to be your person. He kisses you like he’s starving, like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world, but somehow, he never touches you when it matters most.

And it’s not like you haven’t tried. You have, god you tried.

More than once, lying against his chest at night, your fingers ghosting beneath the hem of his shirt, tracing the hard lines of his abdomen. Kissing along the sharp cut of his jaw, whispering how much you want him. How much you need him.

Each time, his breath hitches, his body goes rigid. Then, slowly, carefully, almost apologetically, he pulls away from your touch. 

Not with disgust, not with rejection. There’s no coldness in the way he moves. No sharp recoil.

But there is something worse that you have come to realise. Fear.

The first time it happened, you brushed it off.

He’d had a long day. The mission briefing with Val had been rough, all sharp orders, bad intel, and barely contained frustration within the team, Walker had quite literally stormed out of the meeting room.

Bucky had come back tense, shoulders tight, jaw set, that look in his eyes that meant he was still somewhere else. Still halfway in a fight.

So when you leaned in that night, pressing soft kisses under his jaw, fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, and he stilled beneath you, gently shifting away with a quiet murmur of your name, you let it go.

You curled into his side instead. Told yourself he was tired. Told yourself you were tired too. You ran your fingers lightly along his arm until his breathing evened out, steady and slow.

And when sleep finally took him, you whispered a kiss to his shoulder and closed your eyes, thinking, hoping, maybe next time.

The second time, you wondered.

It was a few nights later. He wasn’t tense then, he wasn’t distracted or moody or freshly back from some dark place.. He was relaxed, even, the kind of rare, quiet ease you didn’t always get from him.

You both had laughed over dinner, some home cooked lasagna you had whipped up after finding the recipe online. You had teased him until he smiled into his fork and shook his head, muttering about how much trouble you were.

He’d watched you like he always did, like you hung the moon and the stars, like he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, to deserve you.

And when you kissed him that night, slow and lingering, your hands soft on his jaw, you felt that same warmth in him. The way he kissed you back, like he meant it.

So you tried again. Slid your hand beneath his shirt, fingers brushing the firm lines of his stomach.

He flinched. Not much. But enough.

And then, just like the first time, he shifted away. Pressed a kiss to your forehead and murmured, “Get some sleep, sweetheart.”

You froze. Pulled your hand back like you had touched something sharp.

And then you nodded, smiling just a little too quickly.

“Yeah. Okay.”

You turned onto your side, curled up with your back to him.

Tried your hardest to not let the sting behind your eyes show.

His arm came around you a few moments later, his chest pressed to your back like nothing had changed. Like everything was still okay.

You didn’t say a word.

But that night, long after you were sure he was asleep, your eyes stayed open. Staring at the shadowed wall. Wondering what it was about you that made him pull away.

The third time, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

It had been an easy day, all things considered. No missions. No debriefs. No emergencies. Just the two of you, and the rare kind of quiet that settled into the compound like a blanket.

You ate dinner in bed, greasy takeout balanced precariously on Bucky’s lap while some forgettable movie played low in the background.

You stole bites from his container; he rolled his eyes but let you. Laughed when you misquoted a line. Kissed your cheek. Brushed rice off your shirt with the softest smile.

And maybe that was what made it worse.

Because everything had felt right. Comfortable. Easy. The kind of night that warmed you from the inside out.

It was late when the movie finally dwindled into credits. You stacked the empty containers on the nightstand, slid back under the covers, and curled against his chest with a sigh. His arm came around you like it always did, instinctive, easy. Protective.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The glow of the screen lit the room in soft, flickering blue. Your legs were tangled with his. Your cheek rested against the cotton of his t-shirt. He felt steady beneath you. Safe.

So when you tilted your head up and kissed him, it wasn’t with expectation. It wasn’t about sex, or hunger, or even want.

It was soft. Familiar. The kind of kiss you gave someone when you were in love.

He kissed you back, of course he did. That part was never the problem. He always kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that could anchor him.

But the moment your hand slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, everything changed.

Just the pad of your fingers brushing lightly over his stomach. Just a touch.

And still, he tensed.

You felt it the way someone feels a tide turning, quiet, sure, inevitable.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t recoil. He just went still. Careful. Measured. One hand lifted to catch your wrist and gently moved it away from his skin, like it wasn’t a rejection. Like it didn’t mean something.

But it did.

He turned slightly, as if he meant to settle back into bed like nothing had happened. Like you could pretend this wasn’t the third time in a row.

But you didn’t follow.

Instead, you sat up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest, the sheet falling across your thighs. You stared at the far wall, lips pressed into a thin line, throat tight.

You heard the shift in his voice before he even finished asking.

“Hey,” he said softly, already sensing the change. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away.

The silence that followed wasn’t loud. It was thick. Still. The kind of quiet that feels like the moment before something breaks.

When you finally spoke, your voice came out low, shaky.

“Do you want me?”

He didn’t move.

You didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. You kept your eyes on your hands, twisting your fingers in the blanket like it might keep the rest of you from unraveling.

“Because I want you,” you continued, quieter now. “And every time I try, you pull away. I know you care about me, I know you do, but I can’t help wondering if maybe I’m wrong about all of it.”

He went very, very still.

Then, “Stop.”

His voice was sharp, and the suddenness of it made you blink.

You turned, startled.

He was sitting up now, scrubbing a hand over his face. His jaw was tight. His shoulders tense. Like your words had opened something he hadn’t meant to expose.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “I didn’t mean to—just. I’m sorry. Don’t say that. Ever.”

You stared at him.

“Then talk to me,” you said softly. “Because it’s getting harder not to take it personally.”

He didn’t look at you.

His gaze dropped to the sheets. His fists were clenched in his lap. The vibranium hand trembled slightly. The other, human and scarred, looked like it was holding on to something invisible.

You sat beside him again. Close, but not touching.

Your voice was quiet. Measured, ounded, but not accusatory.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” you asked. “Like you’re in love with me?”

You swallowed hard.

“Because you do. Every day.”

He still didn’t say anything.

“And then I touch you, and you freeze. Like I’ve crossed a line I didn’t know was there. Like I’ve done something wrong.”

There was something in your chest pulling tighter with every second of silence. Something raw and anxious and aching.

His hands stayed clenched.

You reached for him, carefully, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. The human one. His skin was warm. His pulse jumped beneath your touch.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “What is it? You can tell me.”

He exhaled. Rough. Uneven.

For a second, you thought he might deflect. That he might dodge this like he had before — with a soft kiss or a change of subject. But then he swallowed hard, eyes flicking to yours for just a moment before dropping again.

“I haven’t…” he started, then paused. Cleared his throat. “I haven’t done anything since before the war.”

The breath caught in your chest.

He laughed, but it wasn’t amused. It was hollow. Embarrassed.

“Not just sex,” he said. “Anything. After HYDRA… after everything. I didn’t—I couldn’t.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, visibly ashamed. Smaller, somehow. Like admitting it out loud took more from him than he’d expected.

“It’s been over eighty years.”

You didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched him.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he said, still not meeting your eyes. “You’re here, and you’re kind, and you’ve never pushed. But I get so far and then it’s like—like my body just shuts down. Like some part of me still thinks I’m not allowed to want things.”

Your heart twisted.

Not from pity. But from the weight of it. The quiet devastation he carried like a second skin.

Then, more quietly:

“You think I don’t want you?” His voice dropped. “Fuck, sweetheart. I want you so bad it hurts. Every night I lie here hard as a fucking rock just thinking about you.”

His jaw clenched. His eyes squeezed shut.

“But I’m—” He shook his head. “I’m scared.”

You moved then.

Not away. But forward.

You reach for his wrist again, let your fingers slide gently down to his hand. His pulse was racing. His breath shallow.

“Scared of what?” you asked, softer now.

He looked at you. Finally. Really looked. And what you saw in his eyes made your chest ache, something wide and raw and terrified.

“That I’ll disappoint you,” he said. “That I won’t know what I’m doing. That you’ll want someone who’s not stuck in the goddamn 40s when it comes to this stuff.”

Your face softened. A small, aching smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, even through the tightness in your chest.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

You climbed into his lap carefully, like you were afraid you’d spook him. You framed his face with your hands, your thumbs brushing along the curve of his cheekbones.

“You’re already everything I want and more,” you said, steady and sure. “But I need you to believe that.”

His breath hitched.

“And if you let me,” you continued, voice barely above a whisper now, “I’ll show you everything. I’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you.”

He didn’t answer right away.

His eyes searched yours. Guarded, hopeful. Terrified. Like part of him still thought this might not be real.

But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

And when he did, something in you finally, quietly exhaled.

You don’t rush him.

After everything he’s said,  every word laced with fear and heartbreak and hope, the last thing he needs is haste. Or pressure. Or you moving too fast for him to feel safe.

So you just breathe for a moment.

You stay in his lap, arms curled gently around his neck, your forehead resting against his. And you breathe.

His chest rises beneath yours, shaky and tight. His hands are still in his lap, fists curled like he doesn’t know what to do with them,  like he doesn’t quite believe this is real, like one wrong move will send the whole thing crumbling to pieces.

So you start small.

You tilt your head and kiss the corner of his mouth. Once. Then again, slower this time, letting your lips linger against his skin.

His breath stutters. His lips part.

You kiss him properly next, slow, deep, but gentle, your mouth moving against his with no urgency, no push, just quiet devotion. Like he’s something sacred.

His hands twitch in his lap. He doesn’t lift them yet, but he doesn’t pull away either.

You murmur against his mouth, “Can I touch you?”

He swallows thickly. Nods.

You kiss him one more time, a promise, before you shift in his lap, your thighs bracketing his, and reach for the hem of his shirt.

The moment your fingers graze the fabric, he tenses.

You pause. You meet his eyes.

“I’ll stop any time you need me to,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure.

He holds your gaze. His throat bobs with a hard swallow. Then he nods again, slower this time. “I want you to.”

You offer a gentle smile. “Okay.”

You lift his shirt carefully, baring him inch by inch. You don’t rush. You kiss every strip of skin you uncover, the ridges of his ribs, the warm slope of his sternum, the sharp cut of his collarbone.

You take your time with it, as if mapping him out with your mouth, like you’re memorising every inch with intention.

When the shirt is high enough, he lifts his arms, stiffly, hesitantly and lets you pull it over his head. You toss it aside and look at him.

He’s bare from the waist up. All muscle and scar tissue, strength and survival. The room’s low light catches on the vibranium, glints over old wounds, highlights the long-healed lines across his chest and side.

You let your gaze roam.

He doesn’t meet your eyes. He looks away, jaw tight, breathing shallow.

You reach out, slow, deliberate, and place your palm against his chest. Right over his heart.

He flinches. Just a little. A twitch in his shoulder. A held breath.

But he doesn’t pull away. You lean in and kiss the skin just beside your hand.

“Is this okay?”

His voice is low and rough. “Yeah. Feels nice.”

You smile against his skin, then keep going.

Your mouth trails lower, painting a path down the plane of his chest. You kiss over his heart again, then rest your cheek there for a moment.

“Still beating,” you whisper, a soft marvel. 

You feel it stutter beneath your lips.

Your hands slide lower, down his abdomen, his skin warm, twitching under your fingers. You follow the faint trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband, fingertips brushing gently, not demanding. Just exploring.

He exhales shakily, stomach tensing, hips shifting just slightly.

“There’s not a single part of you I don’t want to touch,” you murmur, kissing along his ribs.

He turns his face, like he’s trying to hide, like the intimacy of your words is too much.

“Hey,” you say softly. You reach up, cupping his jaw, gently guiding his gaze back to yours. “Let me say it. Let me mean it.”

His lips part like he might argue, but he doesn’t.

You rest your forehead against his.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper. “So strong, You’ve been through hell and still came of it.”

His eyes flutter shut. His breath catches.

Your lips brush his softly, like reassurance. Then again.

And this time, when your hands slide down to the waistband of his sweats, he doesn’t flinch.

You look up at him. “Can I take these off?”

His voice is strained. “Yeah.”

You move slowly, tugging them down inch by inch, watching his face the entire time. He lifts his hips to help, barely, and you kiss the inside of his knee as you go. Then the other.

By the time you’ve got them off, he’s flushed all over, from his chest to his ears to the very tips of his fingers. And trembling.

His cock is hard and leaking, resting against his stomach. Big. Heavy. Throbbing.

He tries to close his legs out of instinct. Reflex.

But you shift forward between them and place your hands gently on the outside of his thighs.

“You’re doing so good,” you say softly. “Are you okay?”

His nod is jerky. “Just—don’t look too long.”

You blink. “Why not?”

He swallows hard. “’Cause you’ll know I don’t have a damn clue what I’m doing.”

You smile, warm, never mocking.

“Baby,” you say gently, “I already know.”

You lean in, kissing the inside of his thigh, slowly, gently..

“But it’s not a problem,” you murmur, lips brushing his skin again. “It’s a privilege.”

His head drops back, his fists clench the blanket. You trail your mouth up his thigh, closer and closer, and then wrap your fingers around the base of his cock.

He jerks under your touch, breath catching sharp in his throat.

“Fuck—” His hips twitch. His mouth opens, like he’s trying to say something and can’t find the words.

You stroke him once, slow, deliberate, and his entire body shudders.

He’s flushed dark at the tip, leaking already.

“Nobody’s ever…” he starts, but doesn’t finish.

You look up. “Ever?”

He nods, barely. “Not like this.”

You smile. “Good.”

You stroke again, firmer now, and his jaw clenches, breath ragged.

Your thumb brushes over the tip, collecting the slick, and he whines, high, desperate, like he’s trying to hold everything in and failing miserably.

You kiss just below the head and he moans, low and broken.

“Holy shit—sweetheart, I’m not gonna—fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

You press a kiss to his hip. “That’s okay. That’s why we’ll take our time.”

You climb back into his lap, hand still wrapped around him, your other resting at his cheek to keep him grounded. He looks dazed, overwhelmed, like he doesn’t know whether to hold you or fall apart in your arms.

“Can I ride you?” you whisper.

His hands shoot to your hips like a lifeline. “Please,” he breathes. “I want you to. So bad.”

You guide him to your entrance, your slick soaking him already, and ease down, slow, careful, inch by inch — until he’s fully seated inside you.

Bucky’s head drops back, a strangled moan caught in his throat.

“F-fuck, baby—” he gasps. “Too much. Feels too—”

You don’t move.

You stay still in his lap, your hands on his chest, letting him feel you. Letting his body adjust. Letting the moment settle between you like something holy.

“You okay?” you whisper.

He nods, frantic. “Yeah. I—just give me a second.”

You wait. When his eyes open again, they’re soaked with emotion. Glassy and bare.

“You okay?” you ask.

“I think you’re killing me,” he says hoarsely. “But I don’t wanna stop.”

You smile.

Then you start to move.

Slow, gentle, rocking your hips, letting him feel everything, every squeeze, every inch, every slow drag of your walls around him.

His mouth falls open. He moans your name like a prayer.

“Feels too good,” he pants. “I’m not—fuck, I’m not gonna—”

You lean in, your forehead pressed to his.

“Then don’t,” you whisper. And he does.

With a choked cry, he spills inside you, body tensing, arms wrapping tight around you, hips bucking helplessly. His hands shake against your back as his breath catches in your hair.

He clings to you like he would fall apart without you.

And even after it’s over,  even after he’s finished, breathless and wrecked, he doesn’t let go.

He just holds you. And for the first time in years, he lets himself be held, too.

He’s still trembling.

You don’t move. You don’t shift or speak right away. You just stay where you are, wrapped around him, your body cradling his, the last aftershocks of his orgasm still echoing in the taut lines of his body.

His cock is still inside you, softening slowly. The stretch of him, the heat of him, the slick, overwhelming closeness of it all—it makes your heart ache in the gentlest way.

Your fingers stroke through his hair, trailing through the sweat-damp strands at the nape of his neck. Then down his spine. Slow, comforting passes, like you’re coaxing his body back into itself.

He clutches you tighter.

His arms are around your waist, strong and firm—not bruising, not panicked. But desperate. Like he’s afraid that if he lets go, this will all vanish. Like maybe none of this was real, and holding on to you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

You don’t pull away.

You let him hold you. Let him shake. Let his breath shudder against your neck while your hand keeps moving slowly down his back.

His face is buried against your throat, and when he finally speaks, it’s muffled—barely audible. Raw.

“I didn’t mean to finish so fast.”

Your heart breaks for him a little, even as your lips tilt into a soft smile.

You press a kiss to his temple—tender, grounding.

“I know.”

His voice is barely there. “I just—fuck, I couldn’t stop it. You felt so good. I couldn’t think."

You hum softly, stroking his hair again. “That’s kind of the point, baby.”

He lifts his head, just a little, pulling back enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are wide, glassy, dazed, those perfect cerulean eyes soft and unguarded, boyish, almost.

His cheeks are flushed. His hair’s a mess. His lips are kiss-swollen.

He looks completely ruined. Completely beautiful. Yours.

“But you didn’t—” he starts, then hesitates. His gaze drops. “You didn’t finish.”

You don’t stop smiling. There’s no hurt in it, no impatience, just quiet warmth.

“I wasn’t trying to,” you whisper, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. “Tonight was about you.”

His brows pull together, like he doesn’t quite know how to process that.

“That’s not fair,” he mumbles. “I want to make you feel good too.”

“You already do,” you murmur, your nose brushing his. “But if you really want to keep going…”

You pause deliberately, shifting your hips slightly.

Just enough for him to feel the movement, just enough to tease.

He gasps, high and sharp, his body jolting.

“…we can.”

His hands flex at your waist. His eyes flutter. His lips part like he’s trying to speak but can’t form a single thought.

“I’m still—,” he whispers, like it’s a warning. But there’s no hesitation in his tone. Only want.

“But I want it,” he adds. “I want you.”

You kiss him again, slow and deep, and begin to move. Barely. Just a gentle roll of your hips, enough to stir friction between your bodies again.

He moans into your mouth, soft and aching.

You rock slowly, dragging your walls against his still-sensitive cock. He twitches inside you, starting to thicken again already. It’s slow, but unmistakable.

“Okay?” you whisper.

He nods frantically, hands gripping your waist like he’s drowning in sensation. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just—shit. I’ve never… I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

You smile against his jaw. “You wanna come again for me?”

His moan is barely a sound. His eyes flutter shut.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Fuck, yes. Please—”

You tighten your thighs and roll your hips again, drawing a sharp gasp from him.

“Such good manners,” you whisper, kissing his throat. “So sweet for me.”

Your hand slides between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease. You start to circle, slow, wet, just enough pressure to build your own heat.

He watches you.

Like you’re made of stars, like he’s never seen anything so beautiful.

“Touch me,” you murmur. “Please, Bucky. I want your hands on me.”

It’s the only encouragement he needs.

His hands move slowly, softly, trembling,  sliding up your sides, grazing your ribs, cupping your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, and you moan, arching into his touch.

The sound makes him groan, deep and wrecked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “So fuckin’ perfect, baby—can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

His voice breaks on the last word.

You’re slick around him now, your arousal mixing with the mess from earlier. Every slow rock of your hips has him thickening more, twitching inside you, inch by inch.

His thighs are shaking. His jaw clenches.

“Feels so good,” he whines. “I don’t wanna stop. Don’t wanna come yet. Wanna feel you forever.”

You ride him harder now, the heat in your belly rising faster.

“You feel that?” you gasp. “How close I am?”

His hands tighten on your hips. His breath turns ragged.

“Please—please come around me, sweetheart—need to feel it—need to feel you—”

You bury your face in his neck. And let go.

Your whole body seizes around him, a white-hot wave crashing through you, stealing your breath, your balance, your thoughts. Your moan is broken, helpless, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Your walls clamp down hard around him.

And that’s all it takes.

He thrusts up once. Then again. Deep, desperate. A cry tearing from his throat as he comes again, shaking, gasping, flooding you with warmth.

His arms wrap tight around you.

He holds you close. Close enough to feel your heartbeat thunder against his. Close enough that the tremors in your bodies blur together, indistinguishable.

This time, his grip is softer. Still strong, but different.

Not desperate. Tender.

His hand strokes up your spine. His lips press to your temple, then your hair, then your jaw. Like he can’t get close enough.

You stay there, wrapped around each other, skin to skin, breath mingled and unsteady and you don’t rush to move.

Not yet.

“Jesus,” he whispers eventually, voice raw. “What the fuck just happened?”

You laugh softly, breathless, dazed. “That was called good sex,.”

He groans into your neck. “That was more than good. That was—fuck. That was divine.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his hair.

You collapse gently against his chest, boneless and warm, and he doesn’t let go. His arms stay around you, wrapped like a shield, like a promise.

Neither of you move for a long time. There’s nothing left to prove. Nothing to say.

Just the slow hum of your heartbeats and the safe, sacred space you’ve made between the two of you.

And for the first time in a long, long time, Bucky feels wanted.

And safe. And home.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed it! if you did, drop a comment or a reblog! thank you my loves, your support means the world to me! <3333333

[wcnderlnds]

back for you ★ hwang jun-ho

・❥・ summary: now that junho is free from the memories that had plagued him for so long, he's ready to start his life over with you. unfortunately, his brother inho has a habit of trying to ruining that for him. ・❥・word count: 2.1k ・❥・warnings: 18+, mdni. fingering in an elevator, swearing. established relationship. SQUID GAME S3 SPOILERS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. ・❥・authors note: i swear to you this wasn't meant to be smut but i have a lot of junho feelings. im also bad at writing kids so... i'm so sorry in advance for how bad this might be.

Those first few weeks after Junho had finally found the island only to not get the closure from his brother that he had been craving had been eye opening for him. For so long, he had been focused on finding his brother, getting the answers to the questions that had plagued him for years. It had consumed his life, took over every single thing he did but now? Now, he knew he was never going to know and maybe that was okay. He had done his part, he had tried his best. There was nothing more he could do but move on with his life. So, that’s what he did.

It hadn’t been easy at first, it had taken a lot of time for him to find his new purpose but he had you to help him along the way. Being in a relationship with Junho over the last few years hadn’t been easy but through every single thing, you had stuck by him. That had meant more to him than he could even put into words. A future with you – that was his purpose now. You had been together for about five years. Junho had never wanted to commit fully knowing that he couldn’t give himself to you one hundred percent but now he could. That was why two months after everything had happened with the island, he got down on one knee and proposed to you.

Being your fiance was the greatest honour of his life. It was so freeing knowing that he could finally give himself to you so completely, finally.

“I really liked the red velvet one but the strawberry one was so nice, too,” you said excitedly. The two of you walked hand in hand down the street back to your apartment. Wedding planning was in full swing and today you’d been out cake tasting. It had been yours and Junho’s favourite part of the whole planning process so far. Who wouldn’t love sitting down and trying different cakes for an hour?

“I liked the strawberry one, too. Maybe we should book another tasting just to be sure,” he grinned, wrapping his arm around your shoulder instead to pull you into his side. You immediately wrapped your arm around his waist, looking up at him with a smile.

“I like the way you think, Hwang.”

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

You laughed which only made the smile on Junho’s face brighter. There was nothing more precious to you than seeing that smile on his face. For so long, all you had seen was him struggling, a smile a rare oddity as he searched for his brother. Life had taken so much from him but now he seemed so carefree. He seemed like the Junho you had met all those years ago back in high school. The one who laughed at everything, who enjoyed the small things in life. You knew deep down that he still thought about Inho and what could have been. You couldn’t blame him. Inho had been such an important part of his life – he had basically raised Junho but he wasn’t the man that Junho had once known. He was a completely different person now. That was why he had finally decided to move on. The brother he once had was long gone, replaced by a stranger he didn’t know. There would always be a part of Junho that was missing but as long as he had you, he knew he’d be okay.

“Is the elevator actually working today? I don’t want to walk up all the stairs again,” you scanned the lobby of your apartment building, eyes lighting up when you saw that the elevator was actually working. 

“Guess they fixed it while we were out,” Junho pressed the button, the elevator doors opening. He guided you inside, pressing the button to the sixth floor where your shared apartment was. As you rested your back against the cool metal wall of the elevator, Junho grabbed you by the waist, his hot breath fanning over your face as he gazed down at you with adoring eyes. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look today?”

“Maybe once or twice but it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again,” you rested your hands on the plane of his chest, feeling his muscles tense through his shirt. Junho leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

It didn’t take long for things to heat up. Junho’s tongue traced along the seam of your lips, asking for entrance. The second you parted your lips, his tongue met yours in a heated dance. Each time you kissed, it felt like the first time. The sparks ever present like you couldn’t get enough of each other. Your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him as close to you as humanly possible.

Junho’s hand danced along the waistband of your jeans, popping the button open and dipping inside. His fingers slowly, teasingly ran along your panties, already feeling the damp spot forming there. It made him groan into the kiss. It never ceased to amaze him how your body reacted to him, just one simple touch made you a complete mess. Intimacy had been far and few over the years but now he was making up for lost time. Any opportunity he could take to show you how much he loved you, he was going to grasp. His fingers rubbed slow circles against your core, a breathy whine falling from your lips. A smirk adorned his face; he had you right where he wanted you.

“Junho, please,” you said breathlessly. You bucked your hips into his hand trying to seek more friction. There were only a few more floors before you’d reach yours and you so badly needed him to finish what he was starting.

As if sensing your desperation, he slipped his fingers inside your panties, his long digits sliding through your folds with ease. Your slick coated his fingers, making him groan, aching for more. He circled your entrance with one of his fingers, easing a finger inside you which caused you to gasp, throwing your head back in ecstasy. He began moving it slowly, his thumb finding your clit. His eyes glanced over seeing you were at the third floor. He had to speed this up so he moved faster, pumping his finger into you with increasing speed. The hand that was on your hip, held you in place, stilling your movements. When he slipped another finger inside you, the moan you let out was louder than you expected. You had never been more thankful that nobody else was in the elevator with you. Junho added more pressure with his thumb, circling your clit as his fingers drove into you. He knew your body better than anyone, he could tell that you were getting close. You just needed that push. So, he curled his fingers inside you, stroking that spot that made you see stars.

“Oh my god, right there, baby, I’m so close,” you panted. The moans falling from your lips paired with how wet you were against his fingers was making his cock throb in his jeans. He couldn’t wait to get you back to your apartment so he could really show you just how much he loved you.

“Come on, baby. Come for me,” he leaned forward to whisper in your ear, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “We’re almost at our floor. We don’t want anyone catching us, do we?”

It took one more hard thrust of his fingers before your orgasm came crashing over you. A moan of his name echoed through the elevator. He kept his fingers moving, working you through your orgasm. He could feel your release on his fingers, the sensation making him harder than before. When he was sure you were completely spent, he pulled his fingers from you. Just in time because the elevator dinged letting you know you were at your destination.

You took a moment to take a steady breath in. You needed a moment to collect yourself before you could even think about walking. Junho brought his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing delicately against your skin. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” you said with a dazed smile. “Can’t wait to return the favour.”

Junho just laughed, guiding you out of the elevator and down the hall to your apartment. Before he unlocked the door, you leaned up on your tiptoes, kissing him. He tangled his fingers in your hair, savouring the feeling of your lips against his. It was a miracle that he managed to somehow open the door from behind while you were entangled with each other. He stepped back into the apartment, tearing his lips from yours momentarily. Just as he was about to speak, something caught his eye.

“What…?” He made his way over to the small bundle of blankets. His face paled as he laid eyes upon the last thing he thought he’d ever see in his apartment.

A baby.

“Junho, what’s wr-”

You were stopped in your tracks when you heard the cry of the baby. In his hands, Junho held a small card, the words ‘Player 222, winner’ written on it. Then, he pulled out a debit card, his eyes widening. “....Inho…”

It was almost on instinct that you picked the baby up, holding it against you to soothe it’s crying. You were no expert with kids but you couldn’t leave the poor thing laying there crying. It had been left here for a reason. The sound of his brother's name caught your attention, your confused eyes looking at your fiance with question. “...Inho did this?”

“I… yeah, I think so.” He paused. Never had he felt his heart hammering against his chest so hard before. A sense of panic washing over him. He may not be a detective anymore but it didn’t take one to figure out what this meant.  “I need to… uh, I need to go to an ATM.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You’re kidding me?!” You exclaimed loudly, the baby safely in your arms as you looked over Junho’s shoulder to see the balance on the ATM.

45.6 billion won.

Junho looked like he’d seen a ghost, all the memories of everything he’d witnessed on the island rushing back to him. He knew what this money was, what it meant. It was dirty money but… it was money that could help. Somehow, some way, he knew that Inho knew he needed this. He had a wedding to pay for and now… a baby to care and look after. Children had been a topic of discussion between the both of you but you had decided that you didn’t want to start trying for a few years yet, opting to enjoy just being together first before you brought a child into the world. Now, thanks to Inho, you had no choice.

Junho leaned against the wall beside the ATM. You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, letting him know you were there. He wasn’t alone – he never would be again. You spoke softly, trying to reassure him. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I… we can do this. I know we’re not ready but you and me, we can do anything, yeah? We’ve been through worse.”

Junho nodded. “Y-yeah.”

“This baby has nobody, Junho. We have to give it the life it deserves. We don’t want everything that happened to be in vain.”

“I just wish he’d have.. come to me in person. Why won’t he just talk to me?” He sounded so defeated. Of course Inho had a way of ruining everything, setting Junho back just as life had gotten good for him.

“Fuck him,” you said. “What matters now is you, me and this baby. Nothing else. We’re in this together, okay? Inho is a thing of a past. It’s his loss that he’s cut you out, not yours. That is not your burden to bear. You tried, baby. You tried so hard and don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay,” Junho nodded. His eyes landed on the baby. “I saw her. All those months ago on the island. She won the games. I don’t know how, I don’t want to know how or why she was even involved in them but… we can’t ever tell her, okay? I don’t want her to ever know where she came from. Not from that place. She doesn’t deserve to live with that.”

“She won’t. She’ll have a good life with us. Now, come on. We have 45.6 billion and a baby to cater for now. We better go shopping.”

Junho had never been more thankful to have you. The way you could lighten a situation and make him feel like he was going to be okay. It was more than he could ever ask for. Raising this baby wasn’t going to be easy but together, you could do it. You could do anything.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @berfgrimm @loveesiren @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @aizshallnotbefound @fleabagspurplewife @gemzyy @bettelaboure @gdinthehouseee @breakmeoff @babyrvis @flymetothexmoon @forevervibezzzz1 @ttturnitup @szonyix6277 @riddlerloveb0t @youlikeex @str8t2video @septywitch @melanatedhorrorqueen @l5byrinth @tabibabib

[mooningningg]

Extra Credit - Megumi F. (3)

about. you're flunking all your subjects. He’s a virgin. So you strike a deal—he tutors you academically to win a girl he has a crush on, and you tutor him in sex, simple.

parts. chapter 02, chapter 04

pairings. nerd!megumi x popular girl!reader

words. 17.90k (???)

content. virgin!megumi + experienced!reader, Explicit sexual content – blow job, making out, handjob, semi-public tension, teasing, dirty talk, reader guiding Megumi through his first sexual experience. Power dynamics. Smug, experienced reader. Slight humiliation kink if you squint. Megumi is flushed and wrecked and learning. This is a part of an ongoing tutoring-for-sexual-experience fic. Reader is not kind. She is hot and she knows it. ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP I DON'T WANT NO SMOKE OR SOMEONE BEING A HATER IN MY COMMENTS.

notes. i've been missing for two days, I rlly hope you won't be bored with this long ahh. and please try to not skip some parts since its important for you to understand the thoughts behind the actions.

You were supposed to be past this, supposed to be untouchable, unshaken, unbothered. That was your thing—right?

You didn’t cry over boys. You broke them. You didn’t second-guess yourself. You walked out first. You ended things before they could ever reach the part where you might actually get hurt. But now, you were lying in your bed, legs tangled in your sheets, staring at your ceiling like it held answers, and for the first time in a long time, you felt… small.

You hadn’t cried since the fight with Megumi, not really. But now, everything was creeping in. Quietly. Slowly. Like the kind of pain that doesn't hit you all at once—but chips away at you until suddenly, there's nothing left.

It wasn’t supposed to matter, it was just tutoring, just a deal, just a boy with glasses and too many books and a sharp tongue who should’ve meant nothing. But why—why—was it his voice in your head? Not Noritoshi’s, not the boy who said he loved you.

Not the boy you gave everything to for over a year—the one who knew all the worst parts of you, the one who held every dark thing you never dared show anyone else. The boy who kissed you like possession, who yelled in hotel rooms and made you feel insane for asking to be seen, for asking to be loved properly.

The boy who said you were too much. Who slammed doors and then begged at them the next day, who hurt you and then convinced you it was love. Noritoshi had everything—your trust, your secrets, your body, your pride. And he still made you feel like you weren’t enough.

He knew you, but he never saw you, and now here you were, spiraling over someone who did.

Megumi. Fucking Megumi Fushiguro.

The one you swore you’d never even glance at twice. The one you called boring. The one who annoyed you with his quiet judgement and his folded sleeves and his constant reminders that you could be better—if you wanted.

You hated that.

You hated the way he looked at you like he expected more. Like you weren’t just some pretty, mean girl with fake lashes and perfect skirts and an Instagram full of filters. You hated that he listened.

That he remembered how you hated black tea and liked your pen to have a cap instead of a click. You hated how he looked at you during tutoring—like he was trying to understand you, even when you were being difficult. Even when you didn’t want to be understood.

Noritoshi never asked how your day was, but Megumi always noticed if it was bad.

Noritoshi made you feel crazy for crying. Megumi… made you want to cry just because he was kind when you didn’t know what to do with kindness.

Fuck.

You turned over in your bed, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. Your chest felt tight, like there was something inside it you didn’t want to name. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

You didn’t even like Megumi. You couldn’t. That wasn’t the plan. And even if you did, how could you ever trust that feeling again? How could you let yourself get close after what happened with Noritoshi? After all the fights? The screaming? The apologies that meant nothing?

You thought Noritoshi would break you once. But instead, he broke you over and over again, in pieces so small they were impossible to hold. and you were still recovering from that.

So how could you let someone like Megumi in? How could you admit that he made you feel safe when you barely knew what safety looked like? How could you admit that in just a few weeks, he did more than Noritoshi ever did in twelve months?

It terrified you.

So instead, you clenched your jaw. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That it was just a weird reaction. A blip. Temporary insanity. You didn’t like Megumi. You couldn’t. You were just tired. You were just lonely. You were just angry, but none of those excuses explained the ache in your chest or the way your body still remembered the warmth of his hands on your waist.

You turned over again, you weren’t going to cry, you weren’t going to want him, you were going to forget it ever happened. Except you wouldn’t. Not really.

Because this feeling—the one clawing its way up your throat right now—it was something you hadn't felt in a long time. And that scared you more than anything else.

You leaned back in your chair, a groan escaping your lips as you stared at the pages in front of you. The words blurred together, a mess of historical dates and political concepts you could hardly care less about. If you were being honest, the only thing running through your head was the last few weeks. Megumi, and the words thrown at each other.

And now here you were, stuck at Nobara’s place, trying to study with her. She had a way of being productive even when she was too loud, her energy bouncing off the walls as she flipped through her notes with casual ease. You couldn’t even focus on the words in front of you.

"Are you even paying attention?" Nobara asked, voice laced with amusement as she glanced at you, catching you mid-eye roll. "You’ve barely looked at your book since we started, and I’m starting to think you’re just here for the snacks."

You blinked, snapping out of your daze. "I am paying attention, okay? I just... I hate civics."

She snorted, clearly unconvinced. "You say that about every subject, Y/N. But civics? Really? You hate it because it’s boring, or are you just avoiding actually trying?"

You threw her a look, already irritated. “I just don’t see the point. Why do I need to know how the government works? The most important thing in life is looking good and having fun.”

Nobara didn’t flinch. “You’ve got a warped view of life, you know that?”

“Hey, I didn’t get the memo about life being about politics and the will of the people,” you said, leaning back and crossing your arms defiantly. “I’m pretty sure I’ll survive just fine without knowing what a civil servant even does.”

"Well," Nobara began, flicking through her notes, "you might want to get it straight if you want to graduate."

You groaned again, ignoring her, but then she dropped the bombshell.

“So, tell me this, since you're so into skipping the whole responsibility thing," she said with a smirk, leaning in slightly. “Do you know what the kenpo means in relation to our government system?”

You stared at her, blinking. "What? What the hell kind of question is that?”

“Civics,” she replied flatly. "You know, the basics of how the government works. Japan’s constitution and all that.”

For a second, you were thrown. The question felt way too real, way too... serious. But more than that, it made you freeze because—shit—you remembered.

You blinked, trying to clear the fog in your brain. The words Nobara had just said echoed in your head, but your mind was somewhere else entirely. You shifted in your seat, leaning back, but then the memory of Megumi popped up—completely uninvited—and your heart stuttered a bit.

“The kenpo is a significant part of Japan’s post-war constitution,” Megumi said, flipping through his textbook. His voice wasn’t just calm—it was smooth, as though he'd memorized everything the night before.

You blinked. “Kenpo? What the hell is that?”

Megumi didn’t look up from his book. “The Constitution of Japan. Article 9, kenpo, which means the renunciation of war. It’s basically what keeps Japan’s military stance neutral.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “Are you on drugs? How the hell did you pull that out of your ass so easily?” You chuckled under your breath. “Like, are you secretly some government nerd who spends his nights reading about laws and shit?”

He didn’t react. Just flipped the page and kept going like it was no big deal. “No, just... you know, I study. Helps me understand shit.”

Now, back in Nobara’s room, you blinked as you realized the memory had pulled you in unexpectedly. You were so lost in thought that you’d almost missed her question.

“Did you hear me?” Nobara’s voice snapped you back to reality.

You looked at her. “Yeah, sorry,” you said, trying to shake off the mental images of Megumi casually schooling you in civics like it was nothing. “So… kenpo, huh?” you repeated, the word awkward on your tongue as it suddenly felt like a stupid joke.

“Exactly,” Nobara said, eyes narrowing a little, as if you should've known. “We’re studying this stuff for our shiken.”

You couldn’t help but wince. The term ‘exam’ had never felt so intimidating. “I think I need to study more than just government,” you muttered under your breath. “Maybe you’re right. I should try harder… and stop being an idiot about it.”

But as your thoughts drifted, you couldn’t help but think back to that tutoring session—how easy it seemed for Megumi to rattle off facts, making you feel completely out of your depth.

You suddenly felt the sting of your own inadequacies again, and it pissed you off. But then, you remembered his impassive face when he’d explained it all to you like it was nothing.

“Maybe I do need to try harder...” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Nobara. But of course, Nobara was quick to pick up on your mood.

“Exactly, don’t just sit there and whine about it,” she shot back, “You got this. You’re not dumb, just need a little focus.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

But as you sat back down, your mind couldn’t let go of how much Megumi had impressed you. No one else could’ve made civics feel like it was worth paying attention to, and yet... he did.

The day had barely begun when Gojo dropped his usual “important announcement” on the class.

It was a Tuesday morning, and as usual, you were walking the fine line between paying attention and planning your next social media post when he suddenly cleared his throat, commanding the attention of the entire class with a smirk that hinted at some ridiculous news.

"Alright, alright," Gojo’s voice boomed, loud enough for the entire class to hear. "Listen up. You’ve got an essay due next week."

You sat up straight, automatically feeling that familiar rush of anxiety that only came with the word essay. Everyone groaned in unison, and the collective energy in the room dropped a few degrees.

"Don't even think about it," Gojo continued, barely suppressing his grin. "It’s on a political topic in Japan. Your job is to research it, write your thoughts, and show me you actually give a damn about your grades."

He paused, looking around the room, gauging everyone’s reactions. "So, get ready to do some actual work. For once."

You felt a familiar knot in your stomach—mixed emotions all at once. The topic was nothing new. You’d been through political essays and assignments about Japanese government structures before, but this one felt different.

You had the tools this time. You had the resources. You had the chance.

It wasn’t like the other times where you’d half-assed everything or relied on cheating your way through. This was an opportunity to show that you could actually do something—for yourself. You had Megumi’s tutoring sessions to thank for that. Even if you hadn’t directly paid attention to every word, something had changed inside you. You were no longer the same lazy, apathetic person you used to be. You couldn’t go back to that version of yourself anymore. You refused to.

You glanced around at the other students, most of whom were still caught up in the collective sigh of dread. Some were already pulling out their phones, others frantically taking notes to pretend they were paying attention. But for once, you didn’t feel that sense of dread. You felt... determined.

This was your shot. You weren’t going to let this be another failure. You were done with disappointing yourself.

Gojo’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you caught the tail end of what he was saying: “...and the topic? Something like the kenpo, the Constitution, or Japan’s stance on foreign relations. You choose, but you better make it count.”

You didn’t even pause. Your hand shot up without thinking.

"Yes, Y/N?" Gojo raised an eyebrow, amused by your sudden enthusiasm.

“I’ll take the Constitution,” you said with surprising confidence, not caring who heard you.

“Ah, the kenpo,” he mused, clearly impressed by your choice. “Alright. I like it. Maybe you’ll finally do something interesting with that brain of yours.”

You didn’t care for his praise, but his approval made something stir inside you. You didn’t need his validation. This was about you. For the first time in ages, you were doing something for yourself, not for attention, not for anyone else’s approval.

The class continued on, but your mind had already shifted. You had a purpose now.

After school, you couldn’t shake the feeling that today was different. That essay, that political topic—it wasn’t just another assignment. It was the first step toward proving to yourself that you weren’t the lazy, self-destructive person you’d been in the past. This was about growth. Real growth.

You walked through the crowded hallway, determined. As you passed by the lockers, you saw the usual faces—people talking, laughing, their lives unfolding without a care. But for once, you didn’t feel like you needed to be part of that world. You were doing something for yourself, and you could feel the difference already.

You were going to finish this essay. You were going to nail it.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d be one step closer to doing something that really mattered for you.

You stood there in the hallway, clutching your books to your chest like they were some kind of shield. The hallway was buzzing with the usual noise—people chatting, lockers slamming, the clatter of footsteps—but it all felt so far away. Like you were standing outside of it, looking in. You should’ve felt free after making the decision to focus on that essay. You should’ve felt confident, like you finally had something to prove.

But instead, all you could hear were the voices in your head.

You’re doing this for yourself. You’re not weak. You’re strong. You don’t need anyone...

But even as you told yourself that, the insecurity gnawed at you. It clawed at your thoughts like a persistent itch you couldn’t scratch.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you turned the corner, but it certainly wasn’t this.

There, across the hall, Megumi was standing, leaning against the lockers. His usual scowl was in place, though something about it seemed softer today, quieter. His gaze wasn’t on his phone or the floor like usual. No, today it was directed at something—or someone.

Miwa.

She was walking past him, laughing at something with her friends, not even noticing that Megumi was watching. You saw the way his eyes followed her, how his gaze softened just slightly as she passed by. It wasn’t a look of deep affection or anything dramatic, but the way he watched her… it made something twist deep inside you.

It shouldn’t hurt. It really shouldn’t. You weren’t even sure why it felt like it did. You barely knew why you were standing there, frozen, as the pieces of your chest started to break apart, slowly.

You’re just being ridiculous, you told yourself.

But your thoughts didn’t stop.

You didn’t want to feel jealous. You didn’t want to care. But there he was, your Megumi—your Megumi, in some twisted sense, right?—just staring at her from across the hall, like she was the only thing that mattered in that moment. And you hated it.

You’re so different from her, the voice in your head whispered. She’s sweet. She’s easy to love. You? You’re just… a mess. You’re tough. You push people away.

The voice hurt, but you couldn’t stop it. You weren’t soft. You weren’t gentle. You didn’t smile like that, not naturally.

And sure, you could walk away, pretend it didn’t bother you, but it did. It really fucking did.

Megumi had always been this person who kept to himself, never revealing much, never opening up to anyone. But when it came to Miwa, when it came to her effortless charm, his guard was nowhere to be seen. He just stood there, eyes locked on her, and something in you broke a little more.

Why does it matter?

But you couldn’t help but wonder:

Why don’t I matter like that?

He wasn’t even talking to her. Hell, she didn’t even know he was watching. But in that moment, you realized something. He wasn’t looking at you. He wasn’t looking at anyone but Miwa, and it hurt in a way you couldn’t explain.

You turned, walking away quickly, your heart pounding in your ears.

It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t hurt. He’s not yours.

But there you were—walking away from it anyway, pretending it didn’t feel like someone had ripped something from your chest. You told yourself you were fine, but deep down, it was all unraveling.

You weren’t supposed to feel vulnerable. You weren’t supposed to let things like this get to you.

But here you were, wondering why you’d never be the one Megumi watched like that.

The clock on your desk read 3:30 AM, but the words on the screen still seemed to blur together. You’d been at this essay for hours—struggling to organize your thoughts, to make sense of it all. Your mind kept drifting back to Megumi. To the way he looked at Miwa. To the disappointment that welled up in your chest every time you thought about how far you’d fallen.

But this? This essay? You had to do it. You had to prove to yourself that you were more than just a pretty face, that you could do something right on your own. Something that mattered.

The tears were just waiting to spill over, but you kept pushing them down. They didn’t fit here. Not with the pressure of your name. Not with the weight of your reputation.

You rubbed your eyes, groaning in frustration when your screen stayed stubbornly blank. Your mind wandered again, this time to your father. He always said the same thing—you have potential. But did you really? Or was it all just a fucking game of appearances?

And then, as if on cue,

your father’s soft knock on your door was the first thing that registered. It took you a moment to process it, and then another to look up from the essay you’d been trying to work on for hours. The blinking cursor on your screen seemed almost mocking in its silence, and you could feel the weight of your thoughts pressing down, suffocating you.

"Daddy?" You didn’t bother trying to hide the crack in your voice, the exhaustion. It wasn’t worth it.

The door creaked open, and there he was, standing in the frame with his usual casual smile, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. Even after all these years, he had that aura about him—the kind that made the world feel like it was all just a little bit lighter. But tonight? You couldn’t pretend to be the girl who had it all together. Not anymore.

"Hey, kiddo," he said gently, stepping into your room without hesitation. He always did this, always came to you when he knew something wasn’t right. "I heard the tap-tap of your keyboard from down the hall. What’s going on in here? You didn’t turn into a zombie, did you?"

You managed a small smile, even if it felt like it was painted on, too thin to be real. "Just a stupid essay, nothing major." Your eyes flickered back to the screen, but the words weren’t making sense. Nothing was making sense. "It’s... whatever."

He didn’t buy it for a second. He never did. He moved closer, leaning against the desk, glancing at the papers you hadn’t touched. "You sure? Looks like someone’s been fighting with a word processor."

You chuckled weakly, shrugging. "Yeah. Me versus an essay. Guess who’s losing."

"Ah, classic. Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure essays are just a trap set up by the universe to make us feel like we have to prove we’re smart. Just a conspiracy," he added, trying to lighten the mood, his tone playful. He ruffled your hair a little as if to say it’s okay, even though the unease hung in the air like a storm cloud.

You pulled away from the touch, instinctively, and your stomach churned. The pressure inside you only seemed to build. "I don’t think that’s what it is, Daddy." You could feel the familiar ache in your chest, like everything you had worked so hard to maintain was slipping through your fingers.

He straightened up a little, letting out a small sigh. "Alright, alright, I get it. You’re not in the mood for Dad’s conspiracy theories."

His voice softened, but not with pity—no, he wasn’t the type to give you that. Instead, it was warm, steady, the kind that had always managed to make you feel like things weren’t quite as bad as they seemed. Even now, his presence was a comfort. But it wasn’t enough to silence the growing voices in your head.

"Hey," he said, nudging the chair next to you with his knee, "why don’t we take a break? You’ve been working at this for hours. Your brain’s probably fried by now."

You just stared at the screen. The cursor blinked, waiting for you to move. It wasn’t the essay that was bothering you; it was the constant pressure, the constant need to be more than just what everyone else saw. It was always about appearances. Never letting anyone see the cracks, even though you were the one who had to fill them every single day.

"I don’t know if I can do it," you muttered under your breath, voice small. "I keep fucking up, Daddy. I try, I really try, but it’s never enough."

He didn’t say anything at first, just waited, letting the silence hang in the room. You tried to ignore the tightness in your throat, but it only made it worse. The words came out before you could stop them.

"I thought I had everything figured out. That I could just coast through everything. But now… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’ve let everyone down, including myself."

His face softened, eyes full of understanding, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. You cursed under your breath, wiping it away quickly, but it didn’t stop the flood that followed.

"Sweetheart," he began, his voice gentle but firm, "you’ve got to stop holding yourself to these impossible standards. You think you need to be perfect all the time, but no one expects that. Not from you, not from anyone."

You shook your head, the tears blurring your vision. "You don’t get it," you said hoarsely. "You don’t know what it’s like. Everyone’s always expecting something from me, and if I don’t deliver—if I fail—they’ll see me for who I really am. Not the ‘perfect daughter’ they want. And I’ll lose everything. My reputation, my place. I’ll be nothing."

He sat down next to you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. "You’re more than just your reputation. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"No," he interrupted softly, "no buts. Listen to me. I don’t care about what other people think. I don’t care about how you’re seen. What matters is you. You have so much more inside you than this... this pressure you're carrying. And I’ll always be here, no matter what you do or how many times you fall down. You don’t have to do it alone."

You choked on a sob, your body shaking as you leaned into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, holding you as if he could protect you from everything, even yourself. His heartbeat was steady beneath you, a rhythm you clung to as if it was the only thing in the world that made sense.

"I just want to be enough," you whispered against his chest, barely audible. "I want to be... something good. For once."

"You already are," he whispered back, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "You’re my daughter. You’re everything to me. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone."

Your sobs broke loose then, and you let them come. Let yourself fall apart in the safety of your father’s arms, not caring about the essay, not caring about the image you’d been trying to keep up for so long.

You didn’t need to be perfect. Not for him. Not for anyone.

You woke up late, the alarm blaring its usual obnoxious tune, but this time you didn’t hit snooze. You just… didn’t feel like getting up. Still, after the long conversation with your dad, a sense of calm had settled over you that you hadn’t realized you’d needed. It wasn’t the kind of calm that fixed everything, but it was enough to get you out of bed and, against all odds, to school.

You sprinted down the hall, your bag bouncing against your side, heart pounding as you dashed toward Gojo’s office. Missing the first period wasn’t ideal, but you’d already made a decision. You were doing this. Not for anyone but yourself. Not for Megumi—whatever that was. No. This was about you. You had your own shit to prove. You were sick of falling short.

You burst through the door of Gojo’s office without knocking, barely catching your breath, and locked eyes with him. The typical cocky grin was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a soft surprise behind his glasses.

"You’re late," he said casually, but there was no judgment, just curiosity.

"Yeah, I know," you replied, already opening your notebook, the pages freshly filled with the essay you’d been working on all night. "Here. I got it done."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, the sudden seriousness of your tone catching him off guard. He took the paper from you and glanced it over. His eyes scanned the words, his lips moving ever so slightly as he read. He seemed focused—more focused than usual.

"Huh," he said, breaking the silence. "Okay… I’ll check this."

You didn’t wait for him to finish. You just stood there, hands clasped tightly in front of you. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, but there was something else now—something that felt like you were finally getting it right. The words on the page felt like you, like they belonged to you. You hadn’t relied on anyone else. You hadn’t slacked off or tried to get by with minimum effort. This was your work. And it felt good.

"Good work, Y/N," Gojo said, surprising you. His voice was softer, more genuine than you were used to hearing. "I’m impressed."

You blinked. Impressed? Was that really the word he just used? You hadn’t been expecting that. You wanted to feel smug, to let that adrenaline fuel a comeback, but… no. You actually felt something else. It was a quiet, simple sense of accomplishment. And it felt better than you expected.

"Thanks," you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips. The moment was brief but important, like the first small victory after a long time of feeling like you were just slipping by. But as soon as the pride started to settle, your mind wandered, as it always did, to him.

Megumi.

How would he react to this?

You almost scoffed at yourself for even thinking about it. It didn’t matter what he thought, right? You weren’t doing this for him. You weren’t trying to prove anything to anyone. But your mind kept circling back to the way he’d looked at you, cold and angry—words you’d hurled at him like daggers, only to have them stab you in return. He had no right to make you feel like you weren’t enough.

So why did it matter so much?

Gojo’s voice broke through your thoughts. "You want me to grade it now? Or… are you heading back to class?"

You gave a quick nod, barely aware of your body moving toward the door. "Yeah. Sure."

"Don’t go thinking this means you’re off the hook, though," he added, a bit of that teasing tone returning. "You’ve still got work to do."

You waved him off, not bothering to look back as you left the office. But as you walked out into the hallway, the quiet thrum of your heartbeat was steady. For once, it wasn’t anxiety or fear—it was anticipation. You weren’t sure where this would lead, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were in control of your own story.

And maybe, just maybe, Megumi would notice.

You and Nobara were hanging out by the lockers, leaning against the metal doors while the noise of the school buzzed around you. It was one of those rare moments where you didn’t have to be the perfect, untouchable “bad bitch” everyone expected you to be. Instead, you were just… talking. And it felt weirdly nice.

“Well, I’ll be honest, I thought you’d be a little more chill after everything with, you know, Megumi,” Nobara said, popping a piece of gum into her mouth and flicking it with her tongue. Her eyes studied you carefully, like she was trying to read a chapter in a book she couldn’t quite finish.

You scoffed, flipping your hair over your shoulder, giving her a pointed look. “I am chill. I’ve always been chill.”

“Bullshit,” she grinned, “You’ve been a walking hurricane lately. Like, you keep acting all tough, but you’ve been so fucking quiet.”

“Not quiet,” you replied, eyes narrowing in a fake attempt at annoyance. “I’ve just been—occupied.”

“Occupied with what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “With your grades? Or trying to pretend you don’t have a damn heart?”

You laughed it off, crossing your arms. “No heart. No problems.” You rolled your eyes dramatically. “And don’t go all psychoanalyst on me either. I know what you’re gonna say.”

“Oh really?” she said, the sarcasm dripping from her words. “You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

You scoffed again. “I don’t need to figure you out, Nobara. You’re pretty simple to read.”

“Is that so?” She raised an eyebrow again, her grin widening. “And here I thought you were all mysterious and complicated. Guess not.”

You leaned back, hands on your hips as you gave her an exaggerated look. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like I’m some emotional wreck.” You smirked, acting all nonchalant, but the words stung. “I’m fine, alright? Totally fine.”

Nobara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s why you’ve been disappearing every time someone mentions Megumi. Total ‘I’m fine’ energy there.”

You shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his name, but you quickly masked it with a snarky smile. “You think I care about what he’s doing? Please.”

“Oh really?” she said with a teasing grin. “Because I seem to remember you having a meltdown in the cafeteria like, a week ago. Pretty sure your ‘I don’t care’ act needs some work.”

“Stop acting like you know shit,” you snapped, but it was all a front. You hated that Nobara could always see through you. “I’m done with him, alright? So drop it.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you are,” she said, not buying it for a second. She popped her gum again, a knowing glint in her eyes. “But tell me this—what’s really going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you shot back quickly, “Everything’s fine. I’ve been busy. That’s it. Now, can we stop talking about this?”

Nobara opened her mouth to argue, but then she stopped, glancing down the hall as she caught sight of the clock on the wall. “Oh look,” she said, not missing a beat. “Ten o’clock.”

You rolled your eyes, not understanding why that was significant. “And?”

She grinned devilishly, her gaze flicking to a figure in the distance. “Guess who’s about to show up.”

You blinked. "Who?"

“The one, the only…” she paused dramatically, “Megumi Fushiguro.”

Your heart skipped in your chest, but you refused to show it. You hated how he still had that effect on you. “Oh, great. What do you want me to do, roll out the red carpet?”

“Pfft, I’m just saying, you’re still not done with this whole ‘I’m the bad bitch who doesn’t care’ thing. That shit’s getting old, you know?” she said, the tone of her voice softening for just a moment. “You’re only fooling yourself.”

You straightened up, feeling the familiar defensiveness bubbling inside of you. “I’m not fooling anyone.”

“Sure you’re not,” she said, her eyes narrowing, but she didn't push it further.

You hated that she could read you like a book, but you weren’t ready to admit any of that to her. To anyone.

And then, there he was.

You didn’t even need to look hard; Megumi was walking toward you, his typical hoodie and glasses hiding his expression, but you could feel the weight of his presence as soon as he entered your field of vision. You instinctively tensed.

You stood there for a second, unsure of what to do. There was this insane part of you that wanted to go to him, talk to him, maybe even try to make things less...awkward. But your pride? Your damn pride wouldn’t let you.

“Go on, talk to him,” Nobara said with a grin, nudging you gently.

You ignored her, walking up to Megumi, your heels clicking sharply against the floor as you tried to mask the nerves building up in your stomach. You kept your gaze steady, but when you finally reached him, you faltered slightly. There was something in your chest, like an empty, aching pit.

“Hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I handed an essay to Gojo today.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable as always. “Good for you.”

You blinked, the words stinging more than they should have. “Yeah, well... It was a little late, but I tried.”

He nodded once. “Try harder next time.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the hallway, feeling stupid and small.

“Good talk, huh?” Nobara muttered, glancing between you and Megumi as he walked off, his back turned without a second look.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hold your composure. But it was hard, so damn hard to pretend it didn’t hurt. It hurt more than you wanted to admit, and you hated yourself for letting it sting.

“Yeah,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Great.”

The soft hum of the lamp in your room was the only sound that filled the space as you sat at your desk. You’d somehow managed to grab one of the materials Megumi had made for you, the one with the little notes scribbled in the margins. The ones he’d given you after that one tutoring session that—well, now that you looked back on it—felt like a turning point.

The paper felt heavier than it should have, as if each mark, each word, was weightier now. His handwriting, a scrawling mess in some parts, neat and careful in others. But what hit you wasn’t just the content. No, it was the bits of comments he left here and there, like he was trying to break through his own usual, distant shell.

"Try connecting this with the main idea." "You're overthinking this, just read it carefully." "Good effort. I’m not totally convinced, but it's a start."

It wasn’t like he had to leave these notes. He didn’t need to care. He didn’t owe you anything. But there they were. Tiny pieces of advice, encouragement, frustration. And the one that made you smile for a second: "I know you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for."

For just a moment, your heart ached at the thought.

He didn’t have to say that. Megumi could have dismissed you like everyone else did. He could’ve walked away, let you fail, but instead... instead, he chose to give you a chance. And now? You were sitting here, staring at it all, because you knew deep down you had to prove him right.

But how could you do that now?

Your eyes flickered to the small sticky note stuck on the top corner, where he’d written a single line in the same pen, his handwriting barely legible: "You can do this. Just try."

You exhaled, biting your lip, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

You remembered that day—his quiet, reserved voice telling you not to give up. It wasn’t a normal pep talk. It was more... personal. Like he was giving you something fragile, trusting you with a little piece of him. And somehow, you'd been too busy pretending to not care, too afraid to admit how much it affected you, that you fucked it up.

You remembered how he’d looked at you that day, his shoulders tense but his eyes softer than usual, like he was on the edge of saying something more, but he kept pulling back. And you? You were too wrapped up in your own self-image, too proud to let yourself show any weakness. So you made a joke, cracked a smile, pushed it away.

But now? Now, you wished you hadn’t. You wished you’d let him in. Wished you hadn’t been so fucking scared to be vulnerable for once.

Because if you’d been honest with yourself, you'd realized—just then—that Megumi had started to become someone you didn’t want to lose. Not just a tutor. Not just a guy you kept pushing away. But someone who saw past all the shit, all the walls you’d built around yourself.

You remembered when he opened up to you, just a bit, about the shit he was dealing with. About how much he hated being treated like he wasn’t enough—like a fucking robot in the eyes of everyone else. How he was constantly forced into situations where he had to be something he wasn’t.

You saw it. You saw that flicker of vulnerability in him that he hardly ever let anyone see. And you? You shut it down. You shut him out.

Your hands gripped the paper a little harder, and you exhaled slowly, frustration building up inside your chest.

"Why the hell did I have to be so goddamn stupid?" you muttered, slamming the paper back onto the desk. You leaned back in your chair, letting your head fall back to stare at the ceiling.

All that shit with Noritoshi. With the way things always went wrong. You’d shut yourself off from everyone, including Megumi, thinking you could handle it alone. And you did handle it... but now, sitting here, you realized how empty that felt. How lonely. How cold.

He thought you could be someone to trust. And what did you do? You let your pride, your stupid fucking pride, tear that down.

The thoughts swirled in your head—self-hatred mixed with the anger you had at yourself. You slammed your hand down on the desk, frustrated with how badly you’d messed up. You could feel the tears starting to burn at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away.

It wasn't just Megumi you were angry with anymore. It was you. You’d fucked it all up. And now, you had to live with that.

But what hurt the most? What really fucking hurt was knowing he wasn’t going to just come back and fix it. No. You had to fix this. You had to make it right, because if you didn’t, you’d lose whatever fucking chance you had with him.

And somehow, as much as you hated it, you realized that wasn’t a possibility. You didn’t want to lose him.

Maybe it was time you admitted that.

So, with a sigh, you pushed the paper back in front of you, knowing that this was more than just about a grade anymore. This was about proving something to yourself. About showing Megumi that you were worth the trust, worth the time, he’d invested in you.

And for the first time, you didn’t want to fail, not this time.

You stood there, staring at the building in front of you, your fingers clutching the crumpled piece of paper that seemed to have mysteriously found its way into your hands again.

It was Friday, the day Megumi had always made clear he wasn’t free. He’d said it casually enough back then, like it was something so ordinary that there was no reason to question it. “I’m not free on Fridays,” he’d said, voice flat and unaffected. But now? Now, you were standing here, outside what looked like an abandoned gym, the same address scribbled on the paper he’d let slip out of his textbook once.

What the hell is this place?

The paper hadn’t meant much then. It was just an address, a scribble, nothing more. But now, the fact that you were standing outside of it felt like something more—a revelation, maybe? Or just a damn mistake.

Was this where he goes? The thought kept pushing at you, refusing to stay buried. The building in front of you was weathered, the windows cracked, and the doors? Rusted. It didn’t look like a place Megumi would spend his time. Not at all. And yet, here you were.

You could almost hear his voice in your head, telling you he wasn’t free on Fridays, reminding you with that cold tone that he had other things to do. Other things that didn’t involve you.

But then why?

You didn’t know what had made you follow that scrap of paper, but somehow, here you were, your heart hammering a little too loudly, the nerves making your hands shake. You had no idea what you were hoping to find. What were you looking for, exactly? An explanation? A reason?

You inhaled sharply, trying to pull yourself together, pushing back the mix of doubt and curiosity that gnawed at your insides.

It’s none of your business, you told yourself, but the words felt empty. Because it was your business. Megumi was your tutor—your reluctant tutor, but still, he was the one you asked for help. The one you asked to let you in. And now you were standing outside, on the edge of some kind of answer, but you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to know what it was.

Is this really the kind of guy you want to know?

You stepped closer to the door, the sound of your shoes crunching against the gravel beneath you. Hesitation lingered in every movement, but your legs carried you anyway. There was something pulling you forward, an urge to know, to break down whatever wall he’d built between you.

The door creaked open as you reached for the handle, the scent of dust and old leather filling your nose as you stepped inside.

The gym was empty.

The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and old wood. The lights overhead flickered in a slow rhythm, casting uneven shadows across the worn-down equipment. Punching bags hung in the corner, their leather faded and cracked from years of use. Rusted weights lined the walls, a neglected space that felt like no one had cared for it in a long time.

What was Megumi doing here?

You looked around, feeling more and more out of place by the second. This was nothing like the Megumi you thought you knew—the quiet, reserved guy who seemed like he didn’t care about anything. This place was rough, tired, forgotten. So was he.

You didn’t expect to see him.

And he sure as hell wasn’t Megumi.

The man sitting on the bench had a relaxed, confident posture, like someone who belonged in a place like this—worn-out gym flooring, cold lighting, walls sweating the weight of discipline. His eyes flicked up as you stepped in, and when they landed on you—miniskirt, tank top, lip gloss still glossy—it wasn’t judgment you felt.

It was scrutiny.

Like he was sizing you up for something you didn’t know you were auditioning for.

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Well, shit.”

Your brows pulled in. “What?”

He stood slowly, broad frame shifting with ease, cracking his neck before he stepped forward just a bit, boots heavy against the floor. “Didn’t think a girl like you’d actually show up.”

You stepped back, fingers tightening around the crumpled paper in your hand. “Excuse me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, not quite mocking either. “Relax, I’m not gonna bite. You’re the one Megumi’s been tutoring, right?”

You blinked. “How do you—?”

He shrugged. “He doesn’t say much. But ‘m not stupid. Kid’s been dragging home worksheets and stress for weeks. Took a guess.”

Your heart stuttered, embarrassment bleeding into caution. “Why would he be here?” you asked sharply, voice a little too defensive. “And who the fuck are you?”

The man gave you a low, amused look, voice loose and grounded. “Friend of his dad,” he said, vague but intentional. “Used to run with the old man. Name’s Yoshinobu.”

He offered no last name, no further details. Just a beat of silence between you before he nodded toward the bench across from the ring.

“You came this far. Might as well sit down.” You didn’t move.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Then he turned back toward the ring, where the lights were dim, but movement flickered behind a mesh curtain. You could hear it faintly—dull sounds of something hitting leather. Gloves. Skin. Breath.

Your fingers twitched around the paper. You glanced at the exit behind you. You could still walk away.

But instead— You sat, "Where's Megumi?"

Renji said nothing more. Just leaned back, ankle over his knee, arms sprawled against the bench like he’d done this a hundred times.

“You'll see,” he muttered eventually, almost too casual.

And so you did, no answers. No explanations.

Just the heavy, humid stillness of a worn-out gym. And the echo of fists hitting something hard in the distance. Over and over and over again.

The sound came before the sight.

The sharp thump of gloves hitting canvas. The squeak of shoes on the floor. And then— Megumi stepped into the ring.

And you—holy shit.

You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe a hoodie, a scowl, more of the same stiff, buttoned-up Megumi Fushiguro who tossed study packets at you like you were a charity case. Not... this.

Not him. Shirtless.

Sweat-slicked skin, broad shoulders flexing as he rolled out his neck. Arms defined. Stomach lean and tight, with the kind of abs you only see in boxing anime or underwear billboards. Veins along his forearms. Knuckles wrapped. A thin scar near his rib you never noticed before.

And his hair—still messy, still unruly, but wet and spiked, falling into his face in that way that made your jaw clench because— What the fuck.

You were drooling. You were actually drooling. And the worst part?

He didn’t even look surprised to be here. He didn’t look embarrassed or shy or like he was hiding. He looked like he belonged in that ring—like it was the one place he let go.

Yoshinobu chuckled next to you, like he caught the twitch in your lip or the way you were suddenly sitting very, very still.

“Yeah,” he muttered, not taking his eyes off the ring. “Kid’s been doing this for years.”

You tore your eyes away just long enough to hiss, “He’s been hiding that body under those crusty-ass sweatpants?”

Renji smirked. “Not the only thing he’s been hiding, I’d bet.”

You gave him a side-eye.

“Relax, I’m not saying I know your business.” He leaned back. “But I’ve seen a lot of fighters. That kid? He’s sharp. Holds back too much sometimes. Always thinking five steps ahead. Got that from his old man. But when he lets loose?” He shook his head. “It’s brutal.”

Your gaze snapped back to the ring.

Megumi was facing down a taller man across from him—thicker built, more muscle, maybe even more experience. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Megumi didn’t flinch. Didn’t back down.

Then the bell rang. And just like that— He moved. Fast. Clean. Deadly.

You could hardly keep up. He dodged the first punch with a low slip, twisted his body, came up with a hook to the ribs so fast it barely made sense. His form was perfect—like he wasn’t even thinking about it, like it lived in his bones.

Another hit. Another pivot. A sweat-slicked arm. You actually let out a noise. A soft one. Embarrassing.

You crossed your legs tighter and leaned back on the bench, trying not to show it, but your face was burning.

Yoshinobu glanced over, clearly amused. “Not what you expected?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, eyes still locked on the ring. “I’ve seen better.”

You hadn’t. But you’d die before admitting that.

Megumi’s opponent landed a jab. He shook it off like it was nothing and came back swinging—faster, stronger, sharper. His entire body snapped with every motion. Power in every movement. Rage in every breath.

He wasn’t just fighting. He was working through something. And God, it was hot. You hated yourself a little for thinking it.

But you couldn’t look away, even if it burned, even if it hurt.

He was relentless.

The guy he was sparring with was taller, broader, probably stronger by weight class—but Megumi?

He was smarter.

You watched as he moved around the ring like the ground bent to his will—his footwork barely audible, shifting weight like water. He let the other guy swing wild—miss, overextend, pant like a dog—and Megumi waited. Studied. Measured.

Then he snapped.

A lightning-fast left jab cracked against the man’s cheek. The sound echoed across the room. You flinched. But Megumi didn’t.

He followed through without hesitation—hook, uppercut, block—his body twisting and coiling like a loaded spring, punching through the air with enough force to make you wince.

Every time his fist connected, sweat flew off his knuckles like it was vapor. Every time he exhaled, his jaw flexed, sharp under the bruised light. Every time he moved— You swore it did something to your chest.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. You just sat there frozen, pulse thudding in your ears, mouth dry, lips slightly parted like an idiot.

Yoshinobu let out a long whistle next to you, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“I don’t know what your deal is with him,” he muttered, tone unreadable. “But don’t hurt him.”

You blinked, dragged out of your haze. “What?”

He didn’t look at you. He was still watching Megumi. “He’s a good kid. Stubborn, quiet. Doesn’t care about much. Not money. Not praise. Not even winning, sometimes.”

You stayed silent.

He continued, voice low, like he was letting you in on something sacred. “So when Toji mentioned he’s tutoring some attractive girl—his words, not mine—so imagine my surprise when he started to ramble about asking me certain things."

You narrowed your eyes. “Okay, and?”

“And then,” Yoshinobu said, barely hiding a smirk now, “he starts taking longer showers in the locker room. Like ten, fifteen extra minutes.”

Your jaw dropped.

“What—?” you blurted. “Are you—? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

He shrugged. “Just saying. Maybe you’re not just his tutor project.”

Your face burned. You whipped your head away, cursing under your breath.

“I’m not—he’s not—” You scowled. “He doesn’t even look at me anymore.”

Yoshinobu tilted his head. “No?”

“No,” you snapped. “He’s probably still mad about the fight. Whatever.”

But your eyes said otherwise.

They dragged back to the ring—because even now, even when your heart was still sore, when everything inside you screamed you should hate him for how he talked to you, yelled at you, shut you down—

He still moved like he was carved from stone and fire. Still burned like something you couldn’t stop watching. Still made your stomach flip when he shifted and the sweat slid down his back, over the cut of his waist.

And he didn’t look at you once. Not even once.

Yoshinobu must’ve sensed the shift in your silence. “He fights like this when something’s in his head.”

You said nothing.

The match kept going. The guy threw another heavy swing, but Megumi ducked, moved so fast you almost missed the counter jab that sent the man stumbling backward. His chest was heaving now, face red, breath ragged.

Megumi didn’t gloat. He didn’t smirk. He didn’t say a single word.

He just reset his stance. Chin down. Eyes sharp. Fists up.

Focused. Controlled.

It hit you all at once.

That was the boy who sat beside you with textbooks and red pens. That was the same boy who rolled his eyes at your dramatics and still added notes in the margins. That was the same Megumi Fushiguro who kissed you with inexperience and slow-burning want—and still let you break his heart before he ever admitted it.

You hated this.

You hated the way your chest ached. You hated the way you wanted him to look at you—just once. You hated the way he didn’t. And still, you couldn’t look away.

The fight was over. But the tension still lingered in the air like smoke—thick, clinging, inescapable.

Megumi stepped off the mat, bandages undone, hanging in strips from his wrists like ghosts of the fists he'd just thrown. His chest rose and fell slowly, like he was still coming down from the adrenaline, but even from here, you could tell how calm he looked on the outside. Unbothered. Still. Like none of that meant anything.

You wanted to scream at how easy he made it look.

Yoshinobu watched from beside you, arms folded. “That was clean,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Didn’t even use his full weight.”

You swallowed thickly, unable to tear your eyes away from Megumi. He was wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt now—that shirtless torso lifting, exposing the bruises on his ribs, the scars on his waist.

You didn’t realize you were staring until Yoshinobu’s voice cut through again. “You planning to keep gawking, or are you gonna go talk to him?”

You flinched slightly. “I’m not—”

He gave you a look. The kind that saw through all your usual bullshit, the kind that made your spine straighten.

“I don’t know what the hell’s going on between you two,” he said, voice low, eyes flicking between you and the boy across the room, “but he’s not gonna make the first move. Not when he’s like this.”

“Like what?”

Yoshinobu shrugged. “Closed off. Pissed. Hurt. Take your pick.” Your throat tightened.

He turned away with a quiet sigh. “Go.”

You watched him kneel by the guy Megumi had just knocked down, murmuring something low, like a check-in, a reassurance. The other boy nodded slowly, rubbing his ribs.

Megumi, meanwhile, started walking to a bench. He still hadn’t seen you.

But you’d already disturbed so much, hadn’t you? You took a breath, and walked.

Every step echoed too loudly in your own ears. The gym felt cavernous now, like it was holding its breath, waiting for this exact collision. Him and you.

You stopped a few feet from him. His head was still tilted back. Eyes still shut. Bandages slack against his thighs. He looked peaceful.

God, you hated him for that.

You weren’t peaceful. You were a hurricane pretending to be a person. You were mascara smudged in the dark, whispers behind lockers, a reputation clinging to your throat like perfume. You weren’t someone who stayed.

But you were here, he didn’t see you at first, or maybe he did and just didn’t care.

His back was to you, chest rising and falling, fists still flexing at his sides. His bandages were half-off, peeling from his knuckles like scorched paper, sweat dripping down the slope of his spine. The gym lights weren’t kind, but on him, they didn’t have to be — they only carved the lean muscle of his back in harder lines.

You stopped short. Because goddamn, he looked— shut up. You shut it down. Now wasn’t the time.

You opened your mouth to speak— He turned around.

Slowly. Deliberately. And the second his eyes landed on you, the air shifted. His voice cut through the air like a blade. “What are you doing here.”

Not a question. A warning.

He was shirtless, breathing hard, chest streaked with sweat and god knows what else. His black shorts hung low on his hips, legs braced wide as he flexed his wrist slowly — as if shaking off the last of the fight. He sat down with a quiet thud, legs spreading carelessly as he leaned forward on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor like you weren’t even worth the effort.

You swallowed.

This was worse than cold. This was indifference, and it felt like hell.

You held up the paper in your hand, voice shaking despite everything in you trying to sound composed. “I found this. Once. It fell out of your notebook when we were—”

“Leave.”

He didn’t even glance at you.

You blinked. “I—I didn’t even know what it was back then, okay? I didn’t know what this place was.”

“I said leave.” His tone dropped. Sharp. Clipped. You flinched. But you didn’t move.

“I remembered what you said,” you rushed, stepping closer. “About not being free on Fridays. I remembered, and I—I was curious. That’s all.”

He stood suddenly, and you had to tilt your head to meet his eyes, he was taller like this. Broader. Angrier.

And even now, when he looked like he wanted nothing more than to get away from you, he still looked stupidly good.

His chest heaved once as he scoffed. “You’re unbelievable.”

Then he turned, and walked.

Not toward the ring. Not toward Yoshinobu. Toward the locker room. You panicked. You followed, because you weren’t done. Not this time.

“Wait—wait!” you called, footsteps echoing as you chased after him. “I’m not here to fight, I swear—just listen to me!”

He shoved open the locker room door, and you didn’t even hesitate before slipping in behind him. The slam echoed through the tile like a slap. He didn’t face you. Not at first.

He yanked a towel off the bench, wiped his face, cracked his neck. Like you were just noise behind him.

“Megumi,” you tried again, voice thinner now, fragile around the edges. “Please.”

That made him freeze.

“Please?” he repeated, quietly. He still wasn’t looking at you.

You nodded. “I need to talk to you.”

“And I need you to get the fuck out.”

You stepped forward. “I need you.” Silence. That got him. He turned, finally, eyes sharp and hard and fucking exhausted.

“For what?” he snapped. “To be your emotional punching bag again? I am just a emotionless virgin to you after all."

“No. I'm sorry.” He stared at you like he didn’t believe a word.

“I just—” You exhaled, chest tightening. “I need you to know I’ve been trying.” He said nothing. You pulled your bag around and yanked out a wrinkled paper. “Gojo gave us an essay about constitutional rights. I finished it.” Still nothing. “And today, Nobara asked me a civics question and I—I remembered what you said. About the electoral process. About proportional representation in the Diet. And I said it right, I think. Mostly.” Megumi blinked, jaw twitching.

You pushed on. “And yesterday, I tried answering a question about Newton’s third law. You said, ‘equal and opposite reaction,’ right? I think I got it.” Still, he didn’t speak. He was looking at you now. Really looking.

“And physics? I remember... I remember you said momentum equals mass times velocity, and I tried—” Your voice cracked. “I tried. I’m still trying.”

You laughed a little, bitter. “I don’t even know why I care. Why I wanted to get better. It’s not like anyone expected me to.”

Megumi’s hands were braced against the locker behind him, shoulders still tense, like if he moved, he’d explode.

You lowered your voice. “But I did. I do. Because I wanted to prove you wrong. I wanted to show you that I’m not just some spoiled, shallow bitch who uses people.”

Your throat tightened. “And maybe at first, it was just about spite. But it’s not anymore.”

The locker room was too quiet now.

You bit your lip. “You made me feel like I was capable of more. Of being someone better. You were the first person who made me want to stop coasting.” Still, he said nothing.

You swallowed. “I know I said things I can’t take back. I know I hurt you.” Your voice broke again, softer. “But I never stopped thinking about you. Even when I wanted to.” You waited. His face didn’t change. He just… stared. And you didn’t know what that meant yet.

But you’d said it. You’d fucking said it. And now it was up to him.

You didn’t know what else to say.

You’d poured it all out—your voice raw, your throat aching, your pride shattered at his feet. And still, he just stared at you. Silent. Stone.

So you filled the silence the only way you knew how.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” you muttered, eyes falling to the floor. “But I need you to tutor me again.”

That caught his attention.

Your breath hitched as you pushed forward—too fast, too vulnerable now to stop yourself. “I meant it. I remember everything you said. All those little examples, your stupid metaphors, even that time you made fun of me for not knowing what a veto was—”

Still nothing. His hands were still braced behind him. Still staring.

“I don’t care if you think I’m a mess,” you whispered. “I just… I just want to be better. And you’re the only one who ever made me believe I could be. I need you to help me get there.”

You looked up finally. “Please.”

Silence.

Then—

He moved.

Fast.

A blur of heat and muscle and fury, Megumi was in front of you before you could even blink, grabbing your face in both hands and crashing his mouth to yours.

You gasped, and that was all the invitation he needed—his tongue slid deep between your lips, hungry, slick, and fucking claiming. There was no hesitation, no sweet slow burn. Just raw, unforgiving heat. Teeth and breath and everything you’d both been swallowing for weeks.

His hands dropped to your waist, yanking you flush against him like he couldn’t stand the space between your bodies a second longer. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers knotting in his damp hair, tugging hard, and he growled—actually growled—into the kiss.

He kissed like he hated you for making him want this. Like he was punishing you and punishing himself all at once.

His palms slid down to your ass, gripping hard, forcing you closer as he slotted a thigh between yours and shoved you against the nearest locker. The cold metal hit your back, but you barely noticed—your brain was too fogged, lips bruised, hips grinding down instinctively against the heat of his thigh.

“Fuck,” he muttered into your mouth, voice cracked open, wrecked. “Why do you have to do this to me?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered back, breathless, dazed. “I don’t know, but don’t stop.”

His hands were everywhere now—palming your waist, dragging over your ribs, up under your shirt, fingertips scorching against bare skin. You could barely breathe, barely think. His mouth found your jaw, your neck, biting hard enough to bruise before sucking the pain away, tongue hot and wet.

You whimpered, head falling back, thighs squeezing tight around his.

“God, you’re such a fucking mess,” he breathed against your skin, voice full of heat and hurt and everything in between. “But I can’t stay away.”

You kissed him again—desperate, wet, open-mouthed—and he groaned deep in his throat, like he was starving for you. His hands cupped your ass again, lifting slightly, grinding you down against his leg so good it made you gasp.

Your hips moved on instinct. The friction was dizzying.

You tangled both hands in his hair now, tugging, pulling him deeper, and he let you—let you own him for a second, just like you always tried to do. But this time, he gave in.

No more rules. No more distance.

Just heat. And tongue. And teeth.

And the crashing, furious kiss of two people who’d tried so fucking hard not to want each other—and failed.

You were still gasping against him when he broke the kiss, chest heaving, lips slick and red from how hard he’d kissed you. His hands gripped your waist like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

Your hand dropped to his shorts.

His breath hitched.

You looked up at him with wide, daring eyes. “Can I?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything—just stared at you like he couldn’t believe what you were asking. And then he nodded.

Slow. Tight. Jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Fuck. Yeah.”

You sank to your knees.

He watched the whole thing—eyes dark and blown, hands falling to his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. You tugged his waistband down, and his cock sprang free—and holy fuck—you were right.

So right.

Big. Thick. Heavy. Veined. The flushed tip already slick, like he’d been aching for this longer than he wanted to admit.

You bit your lip, fingers wrapping around the base as your throat tightened with anticipation.

“Fuck me…” he breathed.

You glanced up.

He was staring straight down at you, hair messy, sweat dripping down his chest, jaw flexing like he was trying so hard not to lose it already.

“You look so pretty like that,” he muttered, voice low and cracked. “On your knees. Fucking perfect.”

You smiled, wicked. “Gonna let me make you feel good?”

He groaned—half growl, half prayer. “Please.”

You licked a stripe up the underside, slow and deliberate, tongue tracing every ridge and vein. His hips twitched. Your lips wrapped around the tip, suckling lightly as your hand stroked the rest, wrist twisting gently.

“Oh my god,” he hissed. “Your mouth—fuck—”

You took more. Inch by inch, pushing down until your throat clenched around him, spit pooling, mascara probably already smudging. He was so thick your lips were straining around him, jaw aching—and still you kept going.

“Jesus—fuck—just like that,” he gasped. “Shit—don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

Your tongue licked under the head as you sucked, hollowing your cheeks, letting him hear how wet and messy it was. Slurping. Gagging a little when he hit the back of your throat—but you didn’t stop.

You moaned around him instead.

His hand shot out, threading into your hair—gripping, tight, controlling.

“Fuck—fuck,” he growled. “You were made for this, weren’t you?”

You blinked up at him, tears starting to prick in your lashes from the stretch.

“You like this?” he bit out. “Like choking on my cock?”

You moaned again, harder this time—vibrating around him.

His hips thrust forward suddenly, and he groaned deep, watching your throat bulge, your jaw stretch wide around him. You gagged a little again—but fuck it, you loved it. The way he cursed. The way his legs trembled.

“Look at you,” he muttered. “All pretty and ruined, just for me.”

You sucked him harder. Faster. Spit dripping from your chin, his cock slick with your saliva, your fist pumping the base while your mouth worked him with obscene, wet sounds.

He was shaking now, barely holding back.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he warned, voice cracking. “Fucking hell—don’t stop. I’m so close—shit—”

You sucked him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat one more time, and that was it.

“Fuck—fuck!”

He came hard—hot and thick, spilling down your throat in long, shuddering pulses. You swallowed around him, gagging again as he groaned so loud, hand still tangled in your hair as his entire body trembled.

You held him there until he stopped twitching, until he was completely empty—then finally pulled off with a slick pop, licking your lips, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He was still staring down at you, chest heaving, eyes wild and fucked-out.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.

You grinned up at him, ruined and satisfied. “That good, huh?”

He just groaned again and tugged you up by your wrist—dragging you into another kiss, filthy and full of spit and tongue and everything you didn’t say.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open.

You barely had time to adjust your shirt when a voice called out—lazy, amused, and way too casual for the situation.

“Yo, Megumi.” Your heads snapped toward the entrance. Yoshinobu stood just outside the locker room, one brow raised, arms crossed, clearly trying not to smirk.

“Toji’s gonna walk in any second,” he added, voice like a warning wrapped in a grin. “If you still want to keep that pretty little lady around for your tutoring sessions, you better hide.”

Megumi groaned under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. You wiped your mouth, slow.

Yoshinobu winked at you. “Hey, no judgment. I’d let her tutor me too.”

Megumi slammed the locker door shut hard enough to echo. “Get the fuck out.”

Yoshinobu just laughed and walked off, muttering, “You’re welcome, Romeo.”

As soon as Yoshinobu disappeared down the hallway, the panic kicked in.

“Shit,” you muttered, already bending to the floor. “Where the fuck—where did half my notes even go?”

Megumi was beside you in seconds, shirtless and flushed, sweat still clinging to his chest as he reached for your crumpled worksheets. His hand was still wrapped in bandages, movements tight and clipped as he grabbed a page and shoved it at you.

“You seriously brought all this to a gym?”

“Don’t start,” you snapped, snatching it from him. “Not when your dick’s the reason I dropped half my life on the floor—”

“Keep your voice down,” he hissed, eyes wild. “Do you want him to hear us?” Your mouth shut instantly.

You scrambled to shove the rest of your notes back into your tote bag—history quiz key, Gojo’s half-legible assignment sheet, your favorite black pen.

Megumi cursed under his breath. “Where’s your phone?”

“Under the bench—fuck—” He dropped to his knees, grabbing it just as the locker room door creaked again.

“Megumi?” came the voice. You both froze.

Toji. Your blood went ice cold.

Megumi’s eyes darted to yours, and without a word, he grabbed your wrist, pulled you hard toward the showers, around the tiled wall, and straight into the small, grimy private washroom stall. He shoved the door closed with his hip and snapped the lock shut in one motion.

The second the lock clicked, you were pressed together. Tight space. Too tight. Your back hit the tile. His bare chest brushed yours.

His hand was still wrapped around your waist. Warm. Big. He didn’t let go. You didn’t breathe. Toji’s footsteps echoed into the locker room like gunshots. Closer. Louder.

“Megumi?” he called again, annoyed now. “The hell are you hiding for?”

The stall was dead quiet. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. Megumi’s chest rose against yours. He was breathing slow, controlled, but his eyes were locked on yours—burning.

His thumb moved once against your side. You swallowed, lips parted.

Outside, Toji’s boots scuffed the tile. He moved past the benches. You could hear him pause, like he was scanning the room. Listening.

“Thought I heard voices,” he muttered.

The air in the stall was thick. Hot. Oppressive. Your thigh was brushing his. His hand was still at your waist, tighter now, like if he let go, something would snap.

You looked up. He was already looking at you.

And fuck, that look—like he wasn’t just thinking about getting caught. He was thinking about what would happen if he didn’t stop. Right here. Right now.

Toji scoffed outside. “Brat probably bolted. Whatever.”

Footsteps. The creak of the locker room door. Then a slam. Silence.

You waited a few seconds after the door slammed before finally letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Megumi did the same, shoulders sagging just slightly as he backed up half an inch—but his hand stayed on your waist.

You waited a few seconds after the door slammed before finally letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Megumi did the same, shoulders sagging just slightly as he backed up half an inch—but his hand stayed on your waist.

You glanced down at it. Then up at him. Then cracked a grin.

“God,” you breathed, still half-giddy, “we really just sucked each other’s souls out and hid in a locker room washroom like porn extras.”

Megumi snorted, wiping a hand down his face. “I knew Yoshinobu was up to something the second he opened his mouth.”

“Uh-huh. And yet you still let me drop to my knees.”

He groaned. “Don’t start—”

“Oh, I’m starting,” you teased, voice syrupy and smug. “You were into it. You were talking, Megumi. Like, actual dirty talk. I almost dropped dead.”

His ears went red instantly. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“Oh no, babe,” you said, drawing out the syllables like velvet. “You called me pretty while I was choking on your cock. I’m gonna hold onto that forever.”

He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like kill me.

You laughed. The air lightened, just for a moment. But then Megumi’s face shifted. Softer. Serious.

“I… I meant it,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “What?”

He looked away, rubbing at the back of his neck with his bandaged hand. “The pretty part, yeah. But also—” His voice caught for a second. “I’m sorry. For what I said before.”

The words hung between you. Still. Gentle.

Your chest tightened.

He kept going. “I was angry. But not at you. Not really. I was pissed at myself, and I took it out on you. I called you shallow, I said you didn’t try, and that wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.”

You stayed quiet.

“And I shouldn’t have…” His eyes flicked to yours again, raw around the edges. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. To you.”

Your breath hitched.

To you.

He said it like it mattered. Like you mattered. Not just because you kissed. Not just because you gave him head in a locker room. But because, somewhere in all of this—he actually gave a shit about you.

You blinked fast.

“Well,” you said softly, trying not to sound as shaky as you felt, “you were kind of right.”

He frowned. “That’s not the point—”

“I know. But it’s true.” You shrugged. “I didn’t try. I was mean. I used people to feel powerful. But… I didn’t want to be that around you.”

Megumi’s mouth parted, like he didn’t know what to say.

So you added, with a wry little smile, “Guess we’re both disasters.”

He gave a breathy laugh. “Speak for yourself.” You rolled your eyes—but the moment lingered.

You didn’t say anything else. But to you echoed in your mind. And you knew, without question, you’d remember it.

You leaned back against the wall, eyes drifting toward the floor. The heat had simmered down. Your pulse was slower now.

But the words were still in your throat.

“…I’m sorry too,” you said quietly.

Megumi looked up.

You didn’t meet his eyes. “For what I said. The virgin comment. That was…” You sighed. “It was mean. And low. I was just mad and stupid and lashing out like I always do.”

He was quiet.

Then, “It’s okay.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not. I knew it would hurt. That’s why I said it.”

A pause. You looked at him again.

He didn’t look upset. If anything, he looked… calm. Maybe a little sad.

“I get it,” he said softly. “You were angry. I was, too. I didn’t even care what I said until after you left.” He shrugged. “I don’t really care about the virgin thing, to be honest.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“I mean,” he said with a weak laugh, “not anymore.”

That made you smile—just a little.

A warm silence settled. The kind that felt… earned.

Then you cocked your head, eyes drifting down his chest.

“So…” you said slowly, lips curling into a smirk. “Nerd boy’s a boxer? Way to break the stereotype, Gumi.”

Megumi groaned. “Here we go—”

“No, seriously,” you said, pushing off the wall, circling him a little. “All this time I thought you were just some uptight know-it-all with no social life, and now you’ve got this—” You gestured to his body. “—situation going on.”

“Please stop talking,” he muttered.

You ignored him. “If you really wanted to bag Miwa, you should’ve just taken your shirt off in front of her. Instant success.”

He frowned. “I don’t—what?”

You raised a brow. “You’ve got arms, Fushiguro. Do you even know that? Should I start a fan club? The Biceps for the Blue-Haired Girl campaign?”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the faint pink in his ears.

“I don’t box to impress girls,” he said finally. “It’s not about that.”

You blinked.

He shifted, eyes dropping for a moment before he spoke again. “My dad’s really into it. He used to box when he was younger. I think… I think it’s his way of keeping me grounded. Especially since things have been rough with Tsumiki.”

Your teasing faded.

He continued, voice low. Honest. “It helps. Clears my head. Makes me feel like I’m in control of something. And he knows I’ve been struggling, so he’s trying to… I don’t know. Connect. Without pushing too hard.”

You stared at him, a little stunned. That wasn’t something Megumi usually said. Not something anyone usually said to you.

“…That’s really sweet,” you murmured.

He shrugged, looking away again. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is,” you said softly.

He glanced back at you, and you held his gaze this time.

There was still a teasing spark behind your eyes, sure—but it was quieter now. Warmer. You saw him. Really saw him, and you liked what you saw.

You leaned your shoulder against the tile again, biting back a smile of your own.

“So…” you said, voice light but curious. “Does this mean the deal’s back on?”

Megumi blinked at you. You raised a brow. “Tutoring. Both kinds.”

He scoffed, looking away like he wasn’t about to smile—but you saw it. The corner of his mouth twitched. Then curled.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Deal.”

You saw him by the lockers before he saw you—hair a little messier than usual, collar loosened, black glasses perched on his nose like he was born to judge the IQ of everyone passing by.

God, he looked insufferably smart. Pen behind his ear, shirt sleeves rolled neatly past his forearms like he had an oral defense due in five and a girl to make cry right after. No bandages today. No bruises. No gym sweat.

Just Megumi.

Back in his clean-cut, honor roll disguise.

You walked up slow.

Like prey turning into predator.

“So…” you said, voice lazy, teasing. “Your place free later?”

He didn’t even flinch. Just closed his locker like a professor finishing his office hours and looked at you over the rim of his glasses.

“No.”

You blinked. “No?”

He looked almost amused at your expression, but of course, didn’t smile. That would be too easy.

“My dad’s got people over,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Old friends. Loud. Crude. You wouldn’t like them.”

“Oh,” you said. “And what? You’re worried they’ll scare me?”

Megumi looked you up and down—slow, unimpressed.

“No,” he muttered. “They’ll annoy the hell out of you. And then you’ll start insulting them and I’ll have to explain why my tutor is verbally assaulting grown men.”

You snorted.

“I wouldn’t even raise my voice,” you said sweetly. “I’d just call them broke and unimportant and move on.”

He sighed, looking away like he was trying not to laugh. “Exactly.”

The silence between you crackled. People passed by in little clusters—some staring, some pretending not to—but Megumi didn’t care. He just stood there with his sleeves rolled and his glasses slipping slightly down his nose, like he wasn’t the one ruining your concentration.

You hesitated.

Just a beat.

Then: “My house.”

His head tilted. Just slightly. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Megumi’s gaze lingered, like he was trying to read between the lines.

You lifted your chin. “It’s quiet. It’s clean. My dad’s out. And I’m not about to wait another week because your trashy relatives want to drink beer and yell at the TV.”

There was a long pause, then Megumi nodded once.

“Alright.”

That’s all he said. And then he walked off like he hadn’t just accepted an invitation into your damn world.

You stood there, watching him go, and tried to get your face back to neutral.

It didn’t work. You were smiling. Ear to fucking ear. Like a clown in Prada.

You could already feel the whispers behind your back as people glanced at you from the corner of their eyes, because yeah. Yeah.

Megumi Fushiguro? The nerd in the glasses? Him?

He was tutoring you, and now he was going to your house.

You caught one girl staring too long and raised your brow with a sharp little smile.

“What, bitch?” you snapped. “Yes, it’s Megumi. No, you can’t have him.”

Then you turned on your heel and strutted down the hallway like the queen you were, mentally rearranging your bedroom and maybe—just maybe—deleting the playlist labeled for fucking.

Because if he showed up? You wanted to be ready.

You barely made it ten feet before a voice you didn’t ask for slithered up from behind.

“Well, well,” Aiko purred, her tone all sugar and spite. “The queen bee herself. Slumming it now, huh?”

You turned slowly.

She stood there with her knockoff handbag, fake tan peeling at the collar, and a smirk like she thought she mattered. Her eyes flicked toward your retreating hallway glance—right where Megumi had gone moments ago.

“Him?” she said. “You’re really hanging around him now?”

You didn’t answer.

“Oh my god,” Aiko grinned wider. “Tell me this is, like, community service or something. Please say you’re not actually with Fushiguro.”

You blinked at her. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I mean…” She scoffed. “Come on. He’s a loser. Always has been. Total social suicide.”

You just stared.

Aiko kept going, not seeing the cliff she was running toward. “Like yeah, he’s tall and all, but what else? He’s got zero presence, always alone, and he wears glasses, babe. Not even the hot kind. He looks like he’s allergic to sunlight. And you—” she waved a manicured hand toward your outfit, “—you’re you. Everyone watches what you wear, who you’re seen with. And now you’re doing hallway strolls with fucking Fushiguro?”

Silence. Dead, heavy silence.

Then, You took a step forward. “Say that again.”

Aiko’s smile faltered. “Say what?”

“Call him that again.”

Her face twisted with something smug. “What? A loser? I mean, sorry, but he is.”

That was it.

You closed the distance, grabbed a fistful of her hair so fast she gasped—and leaned in close, voice low and sweet like venom in champagne.

“You listen to me, you crusty, clearance-rack bitch. The next time you open your mouth about him like that, I will ruin your life in ways you can’t even spell.” Aiko’s eyes went wide, terrified. She didn’t dare move.

“He’s more of a man than anyone you’ve ever begged to text you back. So watch your fucking mouth. Or I’ll show you what social suicide really looks like.”

Then you let go—slow and deliberate. Her breath hitched. Her lip trembled. You gave her a tight, pitying smile. “Now run along. Before I start listing your body count in front of the juniors.”

She practically bolted.

Nobara wandered up from behind, chewing gum like she’d just witnessed a crime. “Jesus. You need to be arrested for that one.”

“She called him a loser,” you said flatly.

Nobara blinked. “You yanked her hair like she owed you money.”

You shrugged. “I was being nice.”

And as you walked off, flipping your hair and smirking like you didn’t just threaten someone into silence?

You felt proud. Let them all whisper. Because yeah.

Megumi Fushiguro is tutoring you. He’s also making you lose your goddamn mind.

What the fuck about it, bitches?

The car ride over had been quiet.

Not awkward—just charged. You didn’t speak much, and Megumi didn’t ask questions. His fingers fidgeted with the edge of his notebook the whole way, like he was trying to remind himself this was still tutoring.

Not… whatever it had started to feel like lately.

When you pulled up to your house—gates sweeping open with the click of a remote—he blinked. Slowly.

“This is where you live?”

“Disappointed?”

He shook his head. “Just… surprised.”

You could see it—how he clocked the driveway lined with luxury cars, the fountain in the center, the perfectly-trimmed hedges that cost more than some people’s rent. You led him up the steps, pulling open the door with a toss of your hair. “Come on.”

The marble floor echoed under your shoes as you stepped inside, Megumi trailing close behind. His eyes flicked to the chandelier, the high ceilings, the art lining the walls.

“You can say it,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. “It’s a lot.”

“It’s…” He cleared his throat. “Nice.”

You scoffed. “You don’t have to lie. It’s ridiculous.”

He let out the ghost of a laugh. “Little bit.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Gets lonely sometimes,” you said, quieter.

Megumi looked at you—but before he could say anything, a familiar voice called out from deeper in the house. “Sweetheart? That you?”

Your heart dropped. You turned toward the hall. “Shit.”

“Yeah, Daddy,” you called, plastering on a smile as footsteps echoed.

Megumi stiffened beside you, And then your father appeared—tie loosened, whiskey in hand, and a brow raised when he saw your companion.

“Well, well,” he said, amused. “Didn’t realize tutoring came with the full door-to-door package now.”

Megumi immediately straightened. “Good afternoon, sir.”

Your dad eyed him. “Polite. Proper. Is this the boy who’s keeping you from flunking out?”

You groaned. “Daddy, don’t start.”

“What?” he said, smirking. “Can’t I be impressed that he’s not an airheaded jock or one of those weird artsy types who cry during movies?”

“He’s standing right here,” you hissed.

Megumi didn’t say anything, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders.

Your dad just sipped his drink, eyes still on Megumi. “Relax, son. I’m not grilling you. I’m just happy she’s letting someone else use her brain for once.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, grabbing Megumi’s sleeve. “We’re going upstairs.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” your dad called after you.

“That leaves nothing,” you shot back, dragging Megumi up the grand staircase.

“You wound me, princess!”

“Go work or something!”

You didn’t stop until you were on the second floor, yanking Megumi down the hall toward your bedroom.

He was quiet—still a little stunned, maybe. You didn’t blame him.

“Sorry about him,” you mumbled. “He thinks he’s funny.”

Megumi adjusted his glasses. “He kind of is.”

You shot him a glare.

He shrugged. “In a terrifying way.”

You rolled your eyes and opened your bedroom door. “Come on, nerd boy. Let’s get this tutoring shit over with before he comes back up here and starts quizzing you on wine pairings.”

He walked in after you, looking around your room, quiet again. But there was something different in his silence now.

Not nerves. Not intimidation. Just… awareness. Of where he was. Of you.

Of the way you leaned against the edge of your desk, arms folded, watching him like you weren’t even trying to pretend this was normal.

Megumi sat cross-legged on the floor of your bedroom, textbook open, notepad ready. You were lying on your stomach across your bed, skirt flipped up just a little too high, feet kicking in the air while you squinted at the words like they personally offended you.

“…So mitochondria is not the nucleus.”

Megumi didn’t look up. “Correct. They’re two different organelles.”

You frowned harder. “Then why the fuck do they both sound important?”

“They are.”

“That’s dumb. Why not just combine them into a super organelle and call it the brain of the cell?”

Megumi blinked, sighed, and scribbled something. “Because that’s not how eukaryotic cells work.”

You groaned into your pillow. “I hate this. Biology can suck my dick.”

“You barely passed chemistry. Don't give bio a reason to hate you too.”

You flipped over onto your back, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m trying, okay? I actually remembered that thing you said about ribosomes last time.”

“Which was?”

You hesitated. “They… do shit.”

He stared.

“…Protein,” you muttered, pouting. “They build protein. Calm down.”

Megumi finally cracked a smile, just a small one. “I’m genuinely shocked.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it. That’s the first time you’ve remembered anything correctly without pulling it out of your ass.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Watch your mouth, nerd boy. I’m fragile.”

“…Okay, um… ribosomes build protein. And lysosomes are… the trash guys? Or whatever.”

You were laying flat on your back now, textbook propped on your stomach, one sock half-off your foot, a pencil in your mouth like a cigarette. You were trying. Sort of. Even mumbling the definitions to yourself like they might actually stick.

Megumi was still sitting on the floor, but he wasn’t reading anymore. Wasn’t even looking at your notes.

Just at you.

You didn’t notice at first. You were too busy frowning at the page like it had insulted you.

“...Endoplasmic reticulum. That’s the… protein highway thing. Right?”

Silence.

“Megumi?” You looked up.

He was staring.

“What?”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw shifted like he was chewing on the words.

Then, finally—

“I want to do something to you.”

You blinked.

“…What?”

His voice didn’t falter. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“I want to make you feel good,” he said, softer now, but still steady. “Right now.”

Your lips parted. “What—like—?”

“I want to go down on you,” he said, low. “I want you to teach me.”

The air left your lungs in a slow, involuntary exhale. The room felt suddenly warmer. He wasn’t even touching you, and still—your thighs pressed together instinctively.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes narrowing slightly. “You… you serious?”

He nodded once. “You said you’d teach me. Right?”

You just hadn’t expected this. “Gumi…”

He exhaled through his nose when you said that. Quiet, but full of tension. “I want to know what you like,” he said. “I want to get good at it.”

You blinked, mouth dry, trying to find your usual smug tone—but it didn’t come. He leaned forward, kneeling beside the bed now, hands flat on the mattress.

“I think about it a lot,” he admitted. “What you taste like. How you'd sound.”

Your breath hitched. Heat rushed between your legs. “Shit…” You bit your lip. “You’re really fucking serious.”

He just looked at you. Still calm. Still intense. And fuck—you were wet already.

You swallowed and smirked, finally finding your voice again. “You want me to walk you through it? Like a lesson plan?” He nodded again, eyes hooded.

You dragged your finger slowly up your thigh. “Then get up here, Gumi.” His fingers curled over the edge of the bed. And he did.

Megumi climbed onto the bed, moving slow, like he didn’t want to startle you—like he was worried you’d change your mind.

You didn’t.

Not when he settled between your legs, arms on either side of you. Not when he looked at you like he’d waited for this—quietly, patiently. Not when he leaned down and kissed you.

God.

You weren’t expecting the kiss.

Not one like that.

It was soft. Intentional. His lips brushed yours once, then again, warmer the second time. He kissed you like it was something he needed to learn too, and he was determined to get it right. No sloppy tongue. No teenage teeth. Just slow, sensual pressure—like he was studying your mouth the way he studied your notes.

You made a soft sound against his lips. One that caught him off guard.

He pulled back. “Okay?”

You swallowed. Nodded. “Yeah. Just—kiss me again.”

He did.

Deeper this time. His hand came up, fingers brushing your cheek. Then your neck. And then—when he felt you shift under him, breath hitching—he let his hand trail down your chest.

“You’re warm,” he murmured.

You scoffed. “You’re laying on me, Gumi.”

But your voice broke halfway through.

His hand stopped at the hem of your shirt, hovering.

“Can I?”

You lifted your arms without speaking.

He peeled it off slow, letting his eyes take you in. And you didn’t hide. Not this time. Not when he kissed down your chest, not when his hands slid over your waist like he was memorizing every dip and curve.

When he got to your skirt, you reached down—silent—and helped him pull it off.

Your panties stayed on.

He stared at the damp patch darkening the center.

You turned your head away, suddenly flushed. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were thinking it.”

Megumi leaned down, lips against the inside of your thigh. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I was.”

You shivered.

His hands slid up your legs, gentle but confident. He moved slow, kissing from one thigh to the other, tongue grazing your skin like he already knew how sensitive you were there. Like he wanted to worship, not just fuck. You’d had boys go down on you before—but it was always a means to an end. Messy, fast, mechanical. You never came. You always faked it.

But this?

This felt different.

“Are you nervous?” you whispered.

He shook his head, pressing a kiss just above the hem of your panties. “No.”

You looked down at him. “You’ve never done this before.”

“I want to get good at it,” he said. “I want to make you come.”

Your throat went dry.

Megumi hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and looked up at you one last time. When you nodded, he pulled them down slow.

He stared.

You wanted to squirm under the weight of it—how intense his gaze was, how quiet he got. He wasn’t gawking. He wasn’t blushing.

He looked hungry.

“…Can you tell me what you like?” he asked, voice low. “What feels good?”

You exhaled shakily. “I don’t know. I don’t—I haven’t really…”

You didn’t finish. But you didn’t have to. Megumi understood.

You felt his breath first. Warm, right where you needed it. Then his lips, brushing so softly over your folds that your hips bucked before you could stop yourself.

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease. He just gripped your thighs gently and leaned in.

The first swipe of his tongue was cautious. Testing. He moved slow, tasting you. Then again. Deeper. He moved his tongue in long, languid strokes, growing bolder as you gasped, as your thighs trembled against his shoulders.

“Gumi—” you whimpered. “Fuck—oh my god—”

He hummed, low in his throat, and the vibration made your back arch. It wasn’t perfect—he didn’t know how to flick just right yet, didn’t know your tells—but god, the way he tried. The way he moaned quietly into your pussy like he liked the taste. Like he liked how messy it made you.

You threaded your fingers into his hair, tugging gently. “Right there—fuck—yes—”

He latched onto your clit with a soft suck, tongue swirling, and your whole body locked up. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to feel that pressure building, hot and dizzy in your belly, like something was going to snap.

You grabbed at the sheets, mouth falling open. “Wait—wait—Gumi—fuck—don’t stop—”

And he didn’t. Not once.

His tongue was relentless now, sloppy and eager, spit and slick coating your thighs, chin soaked, hands digging into your hips like he needed to hold you together while you came apart.

And then you did. Hard.

You came with a cry, louder than you meant to, your legs trembling and your chest rising in jagged gasps. It felt real. Raw. Like it had been buried inside you for months, untouched. No fingers. No toys. No faked orgasms in the dark.

Just him. You collapsed back onto the mattress, heart racing, breath shattered.

He stayed between your thighs, kissing them gently, like he wasn’t ready to stop. You looked down at him, dazed. Megumi wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, looking up at you like he hadn’t just rocked your whole fucking world.

“…Did I do it right?”

You let out a hoarse, shocked laugh. “What the fuck—”

He blinked. “You came.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Megumi crawled up the bed slowly, eyes never leaving yours.

“Teach me more,” he whispered, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. “Please.”

You dragged him down into a kiss. Tasting yourself on his tongue. And for once in your life—you didn’t feel like the one in control. You didn’t mind.

The old gym echoed with the steady rhythm of fists against canvas.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Megumi didn’t say much when he was focused like this—wrapped hands hitting the punching bag with precise, brutal timing, sweat gathering at his hairline. His school shirt was ditched somewhere on the bench, tie loosened and hanging off one corner of the bag like a casualty of war.

You were parked cross-legged on a mat near the ring, textbook open in your lap, highlighter in hand—but let’s be real. You’d read the same sentence five times now.

“Hey, Gumi,” you called, flipping to the next page like you weren’t totally checking him out. “How do I remember which cranial nerves are motor and which are sensory?”

“Mnemonics,” he said between punches. “Or just don’t fail.”

You threw a marker at him.

He dodged without even looking. “Try ‘Some Say Marry Money But My Brother Says Big Brains Matter More.’ First letter tells you if the nerve is sensory, motor, or both.”

You blinked. “…Wait. That’s actually smart as fuck.”

He smirked, still striking the bag. “Glad you’re finally using that oversized head for something.”

You gasped. “Oh, so you do think I’m smart.”

“No,” he said flatly. “I think you’re loud.”

You grinned. “Loud and sexy. It’s the full package.”

He didn’t reply—just shook his head, a breathy laugh slipping out as he went back to punching.

You closed the textbook with a dramatic sigh. “You know, watching you box is kinda hot.”

He didn’t stop. “You say that about everything.”

“Not true. I didn’t say it about that weird Gojo lecture where he compared thermodynamics to heartbreak.”

“That’s because Gojo’s an idiot.”

You snorted. “Takes one to know one.”

“I think I could take you in a fight.”

Megumi wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand, chest rising slow and steady as he looked over at you. “You getting in or what?” he asked, nodding toward the open ropes.

You raised a brow, still sitting on the edge of the ring mat, textbook half-closed on your lap. “You think I won’t?”

He didn’t even blink. “I think you’ll talk more than you’ll swing.”

You stood up immediately. “Bitch.”

He just stepped back, giving you space. You climbed in, fixing your skirt, cracking your knuckles like you actually knew what the fuck you were doing. Megumi tilted his head. “That serious?”

You flexed both arms in the most unserious way possible. “I think I could take you in a fight.” He stared.

You grinned. “Better watch out, nerd boy.”

He stepped forward, slow, that usual blank expression curling just slightly into something smug.

“Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

You didn’t react. At least not outwardly. Your heart? That shit didn’t know how to act.

You narrowed your eyes, tossing your hair back like it didn’t affect you. “Hope you’re ready to get embarrassed.”

He just smirked. “You first.”

And fuck, you were in trouble. Real trouble.

You raised your fists like you knew what you were doing—which you absolutely did not.

Megumi stared at you, unamused. “That’s not even a stance.”

“Eat shit, Fushiguro.”

He sighed through his nose, rolling his shoulders back, completely relaxed. “Keep your hands up. You’ll get decked first swing.”

You tightened your fists, legs bouncing. “I am up.”

“Barely.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, stepping closer. “You talk like I won’t lay your ass out right now.”

“You’re five-two,” he said flatly.

You lunged anyway, throwing a punch directly at his side. He dodged, clean and fast.

You jabbed again, wild and reckless, and Megumi dodged like he was bored. That just made you madder.

“Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Dodging! That’s fucking cheating!”

He snorted, stepping just out of range like it was easy. “I’m literally just not letting you hit me.”

You lunged at him, swinging fast—and missed again, nearly tripping when he twisted around you.

And then— smack. His palm landed hard on your ass.

You gasped. “Megumi!”

He blinked, deadpan. “What?”

You turned, jaw dropped. “Did you just spank me?!”

He looked completely unfazed. “It’s a good ass.”

“You absolute slut—” You tried to swing again, but he caught your wrist and spun you with zero effort, stepping behind you and bending a little—

“Don’t you dare—” And then he hoisted you clean off your feet.

“MEGUMI!” Your body flipped over his shoulder, hair falling in your face as he held you with one arm like you weighed nothing.

“You’re insane!” you shouted, punching his back. “Put me down, you fucking bastard!”

“Nope,” he said, too smug for someone carrying a feral gremlin over his shoulder.

“You perverted little freak—!”

He smacked your ass again, harder this time. You shrieked.

“I WILL BITE YOU.”

He laughed. Actually laughed. That warm, deep, rare laugh that you only heard when you caught him off guard.

“Fucking nerd boy with muscles, I swear to god—!”

“I told you I boxed,” he said, like it was the most normal thing in the world while you kicked your feet like a goddamn cartoon character.

“YOU NEVER SAID YOU’D THROW ME AROUND LIKE A DUMBELLLLLL—”

And then— A voice. Lazy. Loud. Horrified.

“Oh what the fuck—” You froze. Megumi did too.

“Oh my god.”

You twisted—still slung over Megumi’s shoulder like a dramatic, designer handbag—and craned your neck as the voice echoed through the gym’s open doorway.

Yoshinobu stood there, a water bottle in one hand, towel slung around his shoulder, his brows lifted like he just walked in on a goddamn soap opera.

“I’ve seen a lot of sparring in this place,” he said, casual but amused. “But I’ve never seen that boxing move before.”

Megumi didn’t flinch. Just slapped your ass. Hard.

“Fushiguro!” you shrieked, legs kicking. “You absolute bastard!”

He had the gall—the straight-faced, gorgeous nerve—to act like nothing happened. Just hauled you up and dumped you like a sack of attitude flat on your back in the middle of the ring.

“You’re insane!” you coughed, sitting up and shoving your hair out of your face. “Feral! I hope you get athlete’s foot!”

Megumi just wiped the sweat off his chest with a towel like you weren’t actively losing your mind right there.

“Hit the showers, kid,” Yoshinobu called, half-laughing as he crossed his arms.

Megumi flipped him off without looking and strolled off toward the back, slinging the towel over his shoulder, his back flexing with every step.

And then— Silence.

You sat on the mat, breathing hard, heart still thudding, every part of you aware of just how deeply he’d rattled you. Then—

“You gonna tell me what that was?”

You turned your head.

Yoshinobu was leaning against the ropes now, one brow raised, his smile gone.

You rolled your eyes. “It was him being a dick. What else is new?”

But he didn’t move. Didn’t smirk.

“I’ve seen a lot of shit in this gym,” he said slowly, “but that wasn’t just a dumb joke.”

You scoffed, grabbing your water bottle and avoiding his stare. “Don’t start.”

“I saw the way you looked at him,” Yoshinobu said. “And I saw the way he looked at you.”

Your breath hitched. You stood abruptly, brushing invisible dust off your skirt. “He doesn’t look at me like anything. Okay?”

“You like him.”

You scoffed. “He’s just my tutor.”

“Right.” Yoshinobu nodded like he believed you. He didn’t.

“I’m serious,” you bit out, annoyed at how hot your face felt. “He likes—” You stopped. You didn’t even know who he liked. It didn’t matter. “He doesn’t like me like that.”

“I don’t care what’s happening between you two,” Yoshinobu said finally. “That’s none of my business.”

He took a step back from the ropes, grabbing a clean towel from the rack.

“Go easy on him..”

You blinked. “What?”

Yoshinobu turned, half-glancing back at you.

“He doesn’t talk much, y’know?” he said, voice a little quieter. “Doesn’t let people in easy. And when he does—he doesn’t have backup plans.”

You folded your arms, trying to look annoyed. “What makes you think I’d hurt him?”

“Because you’re scared,” he said simply. “And scared people bite.”

Your jaw locked. He gave you a last look—measured, unblinking. “He’s got a soft spot for you. Whether you like it or not.”

Then he walked toward the back, leaving you in the middle of the ring, staring at the mat beneath your feet, heart in your throat.

You didn’t know how long you stood there.

But the echo of his words didn’t leave.

He’s got a soft spot for you. Whether you like it or not.

And maybe that was the worst part. Because somewhere deep in your chest—you already knew.

parts, chapter 04

taglist, @crispycatt @littlevoidfairy @bookfreakk @1-rxse-1 @starzfaerie @zephyairies @moonmaiden1996 @simonexxx1 @pinkmeatball218 @evii1e @xavisbabie @maeviees @justanotherasiangirl @tiasd1ary @shioribuns @allysainz @mwrgwt @cookies-assemble @tiasd1ary @blu3-l0v3r @camy-yh @pinkmeatball218 @chokismom @01elle-sherlock @oidloid @holymolyyikes @haithamsbb @mysteriaqueen @fxngsfxgxrty @meiyinnaise

[stuckyslut8]

A guiding voice.

Summary : steve guides Bucky on eating your pussy out.

Pairing : nomad husband steve x wife reader . Bucky x reader.

Warning : oral, fingering, lots of dirty talk, filthy talk. Husband steve , post civil war bucky. Sub Bucky, Dom steve . Degradation.18+ minors DNI. This is so filthy, but then I'm 100% sure this is how nomad steve will be.

Steve and you had always been givers when it came to Bucky, he deserved it after everything he'd been through and it calmed him down, having his cock sucked like a lollipop.

You and steve both loved giving him the pleasure, that's how you slowly brought him out of his shell since the accords happened. You steve and bucky , lived in a secluded cottage in Massachusetts, where it was safe and no one could find you, steve would leave for his little missions sometimes when natasha called ,other than that it was just the three of you.

You both took care of Bucky, you knew he was fragile, a little grumpy but still very fragile. Bucky was finally becoming his old charming self, he even asked you to let him eat your pussy, he was quite eager, he needed a little help of course cuz he hasn't done it in a long fucking time.

So you and steve agreed , and thats how you ended up like this, with your legs spread apart by the blonde super soldier's arms, your back against his chest, Bucky was kneeling in front of you waiting for Steve's words. "Go ahead baby boy, lick our pretty girl's pussy."

And bucky did, he was eager giving you messy licks like he would eat his ice cream, you moaned in pleasure.

"give her long licks from the bottom bucky that's what gets her going." Bucky did as steve said, licking long stripes from your hole . He continued his actions, before steve told him to stop.

He moved you around in his arms a little , before pushing his two fingers in your mouth, you licked it ,coating it with your saliva. "Good girl" the blonde soldier praised you.

"see now is the important part buck" he pressed his fingers to your entrance, Bucky watched closely, "you gotta prep her with your fingers too" he teased your hole with his index finger, before pushing it in, making you moan in pleasure.

"spit on it puppy" steve told Bucky, Bucky looked at him hesitantly. "She likes it babyboy trust me, that pussy likes to be covered in spit, makes her even wetter" . Bucky gathered the saliva in his mouth and spit it on your pussy, steve praised him making him blush. "Good boy, now you can spit in her mouth too, but i assume you already know that , she's a dirty slut, you can use her however you want." Steve saying those things about you turned you on so much, you wanted nothing more than to ride your husband at this moment, taking his big cock in your bare pussy, but you knew this was meant for bucky, so you remained stoic, except for the moans you left out.

"hear those sounds, you gotta follow em, it'll let you find her sweet spot, just like daddy does when he fingers that ass of yours, our girl had a sweet spot in her pussy too , you'd have stimulated it when you fucked her, but that was probably because your cock is too big for her tiny pussy, but when you eat her out it's very important to find it." Bucky nodded as if taking mental notes of the points steve said, he wanted to please you so badly, make you feel as food as steve, he'd seen steve eat you out so many times, and he wanted to try it..

Steve pulled hsu fingers out of your dripping hole with a pop.

"now put your tongue in her, swirl it around,push it in deeper" bucky put his hot tongue in your hole, doing just as steve instructed him, and og not it felt good . You couldn't control your screams.

"go as deep as you can bucky , she loves it .....see how she's wiggling in my arms. Good now fuck her with it, push your tongues in and out , like you do with your cock when you fuck her, just like that . Good puppy you're a fast learner " the praises form steve along with your noises made Bucky more eager to please you.

"hnm feels so good bucky uhh" you barely go your words out before you came all over the brunette's face.

Steve seemed disappointed, "tsk tsk, no buck that's not how you do it, you can't let her come so easily" Bucky looked at him with those puppy eyes, he knew he disappointed his captain and he was sad.

"sorry captain, can I try again, make pretty girl come right this time."

Steve couldn't say no to him of course , "it's okay baby everyone makes mistakes, this is your first time, and i know it's easy to get lost in the noises she makes, but you gotta learn to take control, make her wait for it and then give it to her, let's do it again puppy, and again, and again until you get it right, you're gonna be a pro at this , I'll make you. " And oh boy you knew you were in for a long night.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

I would love to see jack abbott with a sunshine reader i adore the grumpy sunshine dynamic.

Like Dana, she gets hit. She debates on telling him, but maybe robby lets it slip to Jack, and he ofc freaks out (i mean, the guy carries an ultrasound machine in a go bag)

His Rock

main masterlist | the pitt masterlist

pairing: dr. jack abbott x female nurse!reader

rating: PG-13

word count: 1.4k

warnings: violence (reader gets punched)

author’s note: thank you so much for the request! sorry for the part that’s so similar to the show. hope this was worth the wait!

The first date you had with Dr. Jack Abbott was at a nice restaurant. You two hit it off instantly, and no one in the world could make him laugh the way you did. Something about your energy really complemented his. You would be chipper and fun and full of life, while he’d be groaning about the amount of patients he had on his plate. You were never too chipper for him, though. You were just chipper enough. You knew when to be serious and when he needed a good laugh to brighten his day.

You remembered the first time he lost a patient while you two were together. You sat with him on the roof after his shift as he contemplated life. You held his hand and kissed it gently as you both sat in silence for what felt like hours.

“Thank you,” was all he said before he stood up, helped you stand up, and you both drove your separate ways home.

There were also times when you weren’t chipper. Then it was up to him to cheer you up, though he wasn’t as talented at it as you were. But he was there for you, and that’s all that mattered. Through ups and downs, he was always there, and before you knew it two years flew by.

**

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket when you realized something. Jack was late for his shift. He was supposed to be there ten minutes ago. You pulled out your phone and saw a text from Langdon, something about getting a drink with a few of the doctors after work. You replied with an excited “yes” before you texted your boyfriend.

You asked him why he was late, and he simply replied with “traffic”. Your heart stopped racing when you read the text. He was fine.

When he finally did enter The Pitt, you were there to greet him with a big smile and a tight hug.

“Good morning,” you all but squealed.

“It’s seven in the afternoon,” he grumbled. 

“But you just woke up, so for you it’s morning,” you reasoned. “I love you.” You got on your tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips.

“I love you, too,” he replied

**

“Why not?” a patient asked you the next day. He had been trying to get you to go on a date with him for the past two hours and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

“Because, like I’ve said many times now, I have a boyfriend,” you repeated slowly.

He completely ignored your reason and continued to ask you out again. You simply rolled your eyes at him with a scoff.

**

You were outside taking a much-needed (very quick) breather when someone came up behind you.

“Hey, nurse,” the man snarled before punching you square in the face with his right hand. You fell to the floor in pain, blood gushing from your nose.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed.

After lying there for a moment, you picked yourself up carefully off the pavement and headed inside.

When Robby saw you, he came rushing over.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed, seeing the blood on your face. “Grab some ice,” he told Mateo, who hurried to do so. Robby ran up to you and held your face in his gloved hands so he could get a good look at your face. “What happened?”

“Just got punched, I’m fine,” you said. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Come sit down.” He guided you to a chair nearby and got down to your level so he could examine the injury. “Can you go get Ahmad, please, Dana?” he asked her before she nodded and left.

“I’m fine, Robby, really,” you persisted.

“Did you hit your head?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you answered honestly. “But I didn’t black out or anything, just a bloody nose.”

“I’m gonna apply pressure,” Perlah said before pressing a cloth to your nose.

“Okay, okay,” you winced. “I’ve got it.” You replaced her hand with your own.

“Any trouble seeing? Any double vision?” Robby asked you. “What about a headache?” 

“No trouble seeing, I‘ve got a bit of a headache, yeah,” you said.

“I’m gonna grab you new scrubs,” Nurse Kim said, and she left to do so.

“You’re gonna need a room,” Robby said.

“C’mon, Robby, I don’t need a room, I’m fine!”

A nurse ran to go and prep a room.

“Follow my finger,” Robby instructed, holding his pointer finger in front of your face. “Right, left, up, down. EOM is intact.”

“Who did this?” Ahmad asked you. 

“Just a pissed off patient but he split so just forget it,” you said, sounding on the verge of tears.

“Hell no! I want a name,” he persisted.

“Harrison Elliot,” you admitted.

“The asshole that was hitting on you?” Mateo asked, and you nodded.

“I’m calling the cops,” Ahmad said as he left.

Robby pulled out his flashlight and waved it in front of your eyes. “Pupils are equal and reactive,” he said. He shone the light up your nostrils before saying, “No septal hematoma. Tell me when it’s sore.” He began applying light pressure to your face, starting at the cheekbones and heading for your nose.

As he got closer to your nose, you gasped in pain and asked him to stop. 

“Tender at the nasion. CT head and maxillofacial,” Robby said.

“I’ll give them a heads up,” Mohan said before she left as well.

Dana began wiping the blood off your face and neck as you asked Robby, “Is that really necessary?”

“You have at least one facial fracture,” Robby said. “With the headache and the fall, I want to rule out anything intracranial.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him, but he just shook his head with a small smile. 

“Want me to call Jack?” Robby asked.

“Hell no, I don’t want to worry him.”

“I think he has every right to worry about you if he wants.”

“Don’t call him, Robby,” you said, and he nodded.

**

“Jack’s gonna be worried,” Robby commented when he visited your room.

“I’ll just tell him I bumped into a door, he’ll believe that, right?”

“Sure,” Robby scoffed. “CT results came back, you’re free to get back to work… or go home.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” you said.

“You still haven’t called him?”

“He’s probably asleep, I don’t wanna wake him up.”

“If it were me, I’d wanna get woken up,” he told you, knowing Abbott and therefore knowing he would want to know you were hurt. “You aren’t burdening him, just give him a call.”

“That poor man needs his sleep, believe me,” you laughed a little.

“For once in your life, don’t be chipper about a situation and call your boyfriend.

“Fine,” you sighed. 

You didn’t end up calling him, but Robby figured as much.

**

The whole day changed when there was a rush of emergency patients due to a fire nearby. Night staff was called in early, which meant you would have to face Jack sooner than you thought.

“Abbott! So happy to see you,” Robby exclaimed when he saw him.

“How many burn victims so far?” he asked.

“Not sure yet. And I thought today’s big event was gonna be that meathead punching Y/n.” When Robby realized what he said, he watched as Abbott’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull. 

“What?” Jack exclaimed loudly. “Where is she?”

“I’m right here,” you sighed from behind him. “And I hoped Robby wouldn’t tell you.”

“Oh my god,” he muttered when he saw your bruised face. “Baby, what…” he trailed off as he traced his thumb down your cheek and cupped your face in his hands. Carefully, he kissed you deeply before he muttered, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” you told him as he looked at you with such worry that it made your heart hurt.

“You don’t look fine,” he whispered.

“Excuse you, I always look fine,” you chuckled, teasing him. That did it, that made him crack the smallest of smiles.

“See, now there you go making me all happy when you know damn well I should be mad about this.”

“Aw, you love me.”

“I do love you,” Abbott said before he leaned down and kissed you again. “And it’s because I love you, I’m gonna make sure you get the proper care you need. CT scan?”

“Already got one, I really am fine,” you said.

“Okay.” He smiled and kissed you a third time, causing you to smile wider.