iamchll

[iamchll]

this series had me crying at freaking 2AM!

damn i love some good angst at past midnight, I love crying at night. I freaking put my hand on my mouth just to quiet my sob/cries. this is so good.

His new wife; toji fushiguro [01]

Genre: angst.

a/n: idk shld i post a part two?

update: part two is here

I imagined if toji did remarry, he wouldn't hold his new wife just like he did for mamaguro. His new wife would be an empty vase he chose to fill the vacant spot in his house; or maybe, he chose her because megumi was tired of explaining to his friends that he didn't have a mom.

I imagined the dining table is as awkward as it could be, with his new wife trying her best to fit in the family but the two males just don't feel the same for her. Perhaps they secretly thought to themselves that she’s trying hard for nothing. Because she's just for a show.

I imagined if Toji did consumate to his marriage, his sex life with his new bride is boring or non-existent. He didn't marry her for love and he didn't marry his side hoes. She's like a professional ally he keeps for commercial. She can't complain because she knows that the second she opens her mouth, he's willing to put his sign on the divorce paper.

I imagined that she has to mourn along with Toji and Megumi on mamaguro's death. She can't watch TV the whole day because the house needs to be as quiet as possible to pay respect. She even needs to sneak her way to the bedroom and watches her kdrama with earphones.

I imagined that there's a day where Toji's new bride will notice that he never initiates any skinship and when she confronts him, turns out he just doesn't want to have any kids with her. Because to him, mamaguro is the only mother for his kids.

I imagined Toji brings Megumi out for a picnic date but leaves his new wife at the house when she's still busy packing the lunch boxes. And when he does return to the home back, he only comes for the food and goes back to Megumi without bringing her along.

I imagined she has to explain to her friends that Toji is a Zenin, not a Fushiguro by birth because he used his wife's surname and her friends will question her on why he doesn't use hers since she's his wife too. But she doesn't answer because she doesn't dare to humiliate herself.

I imagined she comes to pick Megumi from school and his friends will ask her why she doesn't look like how Megumi drew on his weekly poster and she has to control herself before she bursts out crying in front of toddlers.

I imagined the Fushiguro house doesn't feel as warm as she first stepped in because she finally gives up. She doesn't bother to butter up a convo, she doesn't laugh off when Megumi tells her to leave him alone because she doesn't seek him anymore.

I imagined Toji comes home late, expecting the familiar figure who waits for him every day but the whole living room is dark and she is long asleep on her side of bed. Toji probably thinks that she's tired and moves along but he doesn't notice that he's making up excuses for her because the thought of her doing it intentionally is impossible.

I imagined the ride home when Toji picks up Megumi at his grandparents from the Fushiguro family is silent. His wife will play with her phone, scrolling through her social medias and she doesn't ask Megumi on how he spent his weekend anymore. She has stopped joking about how Megumi hates her parents too. She doesn't mention anything about bringing Megumi to her home.

I imagined Megumi walks to his class, but always looking back to the gate. Megumi thinks that his step-mother will put up a little fight to hold his hand and walks him to his class. But she only rolls down the window and nods. She doesn't do the silly 'kissy kissy' too. She doesn't even greet him 'good morning' today.

I imagined the cute face of Megumi's disappointed face when he unzips the lunch bag. He shakes the bag but there's nothing. Megumi thinks that she accidentally forgot to pack his food but when he calls her by the public phone, she explains that she doesn't do it anymore because Toji wants to teach him how to buy food at the canteen. But Toji doesn't say that.

I imagined Toji's new wife looks at the bouquet he brings home and wonders if he ever sees her as her own person but a shell he fills with his fantasy because that day isn't their anniversary and she doesn't like lilies. She hates flowers in truth.

I imagined Megumi will have a huge birthday party and both families will come visit, including the Fushiguros. While the Zenin members converse with mamaguro's parents with ease, Toji's parents-in-law are asked to sit in the kitchen, watching their step-grandson from far and wonder if there will be a time where they are able to spoil a 'grandchild' too.

I imagined Toji's wife watches how everyone alienate her parents and they are unwelcomed no matter what the event is. She will swallow her words, chokes on her tears before she calls a cab for her parents. Toji doesn't even notice that his father-in-law has been eyeing an opportunity to talk to him, wanting to ask about his daughter. But Toji's gentle words aren't aimed to him, but an older man of his past.

I imagined when the party's over, no one helps Megumi's new mother to handle the messy house. She is expected to clean the big house and she hasn't even eat the cake. No, they don't spare her a slice too. So when she picks up the paper plates with the left-over bits, she eats the sweet icing and realises, she isn't his wife nor a mother to his child.

I imagined the home she tried so hard to please becomes the place she hates, Toji can no longer see her sweet smile nor her flushed face. His little pretty wife has stopped trying and there's no warm diner by the time he got home. The lengthy texts he recieved everyday have reduced to none, she doesn't contact him anymore.

I imagined the whole family sit down for diner together in the dining table and only the clicking of chopsticks against the bowls echo. His wife doesn't talk about her stupid childhood comfort foods, she doesn't put dishes into his or his son's bowls either. She chews her food slowly, eyes cast on her food without muttering a word. The whole diner is silent.

[iamchll]

tanginang 'yan, sarap mo suna.

i js wanted to drop in and say ur writing is some of the best here on haikyuublr right now and u have such a talent <3 loved ur iwa and atsumu fic and greatly loking forward to reading more of ur stuff after writing this. thank u for sharing ur stuff and excited for whatever else u decide to write!!! ALSO i would love to request something longer with suna if thatd be possible,, maybe something where reader's feeling insecure bc its been a while since theyve done anything? when in reality suna's js exhausted from work and accidentally neglected her T-T if u dont wanna do this i dont mind at all anything with sunarin is fine <3 love ur writing againnn

still here, still yours

after weeks of exhaustion and unintended neglect, pro volleyball player suna gently reassures his insecure partner through tender, praise-filled intimacy—reminding her she's always wanted, never forgotten, and deeply loved.

starring. suna rintaro x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, light angst, smut

warning: 18+ mdni., smut, nsfw, praise kink, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, dom!suna, emotional neglect, reassurance, light spanking, shower scene, soft aftercare, verbal praise, body worship, unprotected sex

wc: 11.8k

author's note: long overdue but here it is! i hope you enjoy reading this hehe

it’s subtle at first.

the distance.

not a storm, not a blowout, not even a sharp word. just… a creeping quiet. the kind you don’t notice until you’re already sitting in the dark, wondering when the lights went out.

you chalk it up to exhaustion—the kind that’s expected from a professional athlete grinding through mid-season. rintarou comes home past midnight most nights now, his footsteps dragging, his voice low. the door opens, then closes with a tired sigh. his bag hits the floor, and he exhales like the weight on his shoulders is just too much.

he always greets you. always. a soft, automatic “hey,” murmured against your hair as he walks by. sometimes a kiss on the top of your head if he remembers. sometimes, if he isn’t too far gone, he pulls you against his chest for a minute, just holding you in that quiet, liminal hour between exhaustion and sleep.

but more often lately, he heads straight to the shower. a ten-minute rinse, the door left cracked open so the steam doesn’t fog the glass. when he returns, towel slung low on his hips, he drops into bed beside you with a grunt, kisses your shoulder if he’s awake enough, and passes out before you can even finish whispering, “welcome home.”

you tell yourself it’s nothing.

because technically, nothing’s wrong.

you still laugh at the memes he sends you at 1 a.m. from his side of the bed. you still hear him humming under his breath when he makes you tea in the morning. he still saves your leftovers when he eats out with the team. he still picks up your favorite snacks at the corner store without you asking.

but something’s missing.

something deep.

and you don’t even realize what it is until the third night he doesn’t come home at all.

no warning. no messages until after midnight, just a tired update: [rintaro]: staying at the facility tonight. too tired to drive back. love you.

you believe him. of course you do. you never doubt him. suna may be many things—dry, aloof, chronically low-energy—but he has never lied to you. never once gave you a reason to question his loyalty, his commitment. he’s yours. fully.

and still—you ache.

you lie in bed in one of his old shirts, the fabric stretched soft from years of wear, and your hands wander. you trail your fingers down your ribs, over your hips, part your thighs and slip under your panties.

you try.

you really try.

but your hand doesn’t feel like his.

your fingers don’t curl with the same hunger, don’t slide with the same deliberate slowness that he always used when he wanted to wreck you slowly. they don’t press firm and steady on your clit the way he does, the way that always made your legs shake. they don’t fill you the way he does—long fingers that crook just right, mouth murmuring praise between licks as you unravel under him.

you moan, trying to conjure him. you imagine his voice, low and thick with sleep, telling you what a good girl you are. how sweet you taste. how soft you feel. you remember the way he used to breathe harder when he got close to making you come, like your pleasure turned him inside out.

but it’s not the same.

your own touch feels foreign. lonely. hollow.

and when the heat finally builds and fizzles out, you lie there unsatisfied, eyes burning, chest aching more than your thighs.

not because you’re angry. not because you don’t trust him.

but because you miss him in a way that makes your body ache.

you miss the way he used to need you.

now it feels like he needs rest more than he needs you.

you know he’s tired. you know he’s overworked. you’ve seen the stiffness in his shoulders, the way he winces when he peels off his tape, the dark circles deepening under his eyes. you know that every match, every practice, every press event chips away at the energy he has left.

but still—you miss him.

and more than that, you miss feeling wanted.

not just loved. not just adored in the passive, every-day kind of way. but craved. desired. claimed.

you can’t even remember the last time he touched you like that. not out of obligation. not for routine.

but because he couldn’t not.

because his body had to be on yours, had to taste you, had to feel you wrapped around him.

you pull your hand back and curl into yourself, frustrated tears pricking the corners of your eyes. you’re not mad. you’re not suspicious. just…

lonely.

quietly, devastatingly lonely.

and you don’t know how to bring it up without sounding like you’re asking for too much.

without sounding like one more thing he doesn’t have the energy for.

but this quiet?

it’s starting to feel like a slow kind of heartbreak.

like watching the tide pull away, further and further, and wondering if it’s ever going to come back to shore.

it’s starting to feel like a slow kind of heartbreak.

like watching the tide pull away, further and further, and wondering if it’s ever going to come back to shore.

you wipe your hand on the hem of your shirt and breathe in deep—once, then again—trying to convince your body that the tears pooling in your eyes are just from frustration. not sadness. not rejection. just a fleeting ache. something that sleep will solve.

except, sleep doesn’t come easily anymore.

not when the bed feels too cold on one side. not when the sheets still smell like him, and your fingers ache from trying to replace a warmth that only he can give.

so you sit up.

pad into the kitchen. open the fridge. close it. not hungry.

you scroll your phone, rereading old messages from months ago—selfies he used to send from the gym, photos of his legs iced up and flexed after a match, paired with a lazy “you like this, don’t lie” and a smirking emoji. voice memos of him mumbling how much he missed you after a long away game. a grainy video of him shirtless in the locker room, whispering a low “wish you were here” against a backdrop of noisy teammates.

that version of him feels so far away now.

not gone. but buried. like a season passed, and no one told you it wouldn’t come back the same.

you curl into the couch with a blanket over your lap, eyes on the clock.

12:46 a.m.

then 1:22.

then 1:37.

no update.

he’s not home.

again.

you check your phone just to be sure, even though there’s no buzz, no badge.

nothing.

you think about calling. about asking if he’s okay. about whether he ate dinner, or if he remembered to put on the muscle rub that helps with his back. but then you imagine him in the locker room, tired eyes barely open, chin tucked to his chest as he tries to survive the day, and guilt gnaws at your resolve.

you don’t want to be a burden.

but when the door finally creaks open at 2:04 a.m., your body jolts upright before you even realize you’ve moved.

he looks… drained.

dark circles. damp hair. eyes dull like a storm cloud that never opens up. he kicks off his shoes without looking up, his bag thudding against the door.

“hey,” he mumbles, like always.

suna walks toward the couch, still shrugging off the weight of the day, and bends just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple. the press of his lips is warm—familiar—but distant, like a habit rather than a want.

"why are you still awake, baby?" he murmurs, voice low and raspy, like gravel smoothed by exhaustion.

you stare at the muted tv for a beat too long before answering.

“i couldn’t sleep.”

he hums absently, his hand brushing the top of your head in that same distracted way he always does lately. like he means to be comforting but doesn’t linger long enough to make it count. then he turns, already peeling off his hoodie as he makes his way down the hall.

"don’t wait up for me,” he says, voice fading as he walks, “i’ll head to our bedroom after i shower, okay?”

you don’t answer.

because if you do, you’re scared it’ll come out as a sob.

so you just nod, even though he can’t see it, curling in tighter on the couch as you listen to the bathroom door click shut. the sound of running water soon follows—soft at first, then rushing.

you stay where you are.

wrapped in silence. in soft cotton and worn-out longing. your body curled like muscle memory, trying to make yourself small. the blanket's gone cold now, and the cushions beneath you are sunken with the weight of waiting.

you think about getting up. think about brushing your teeth and sliding under the sheets like nothing hurts. think about pretending you didn’t cry earlier, about slipping into bed beside him and offering your back like a silent invitation he probably won’t take.

but you can’t move.

not yet.

because even now—after he’s home, after he kissed your temple, after he said he’d meet you in bed—there’s still a hollow ache in your chest that hasn’t quieted.

you hear the water shut off.

moments later, the door opens. his familiar steps thump softly against the hallway floor.

you expect him to go straight to the bedroom like always.

but instead—

“…babe?”

his voice comes from behind you, confused. not panicked. but uncertain.

you blink slowly, still curled up on the couch, and turn your head just enough to see him standing there, fresh from the shower.

hair damp, sticking in dark strands across his forehead. a towel slung loosely around his hips, clinging low on his hips. water still glistening down his chest—broad, lean, the kind of frame built from quiet discipline and relentless training. his hand clutches a shirt he probably meant to put on in the bedroom.

but he never made it that far.

because you’re still not there.

and he notices.

“…why’re you still out here?” he asks quietly, his brows drawing together.

you don’t answer at first.

you just look up at him.

and that’s when he really sees you.

the tired set of your shoulders. the way your lips are pressed together like they’re holding back a flood. the way your eyes glint—not from the tv light, but from the tears you refuse to shed a second time tonight.

his expression falters.

he drops the shirt in his hand, chest still rising and falling slowly from the heat of the shower—and maybe now, from something else.

he crosses to you without a word, crouches beside the couch, and touches your knee with gentle fingers.

“talk to me,” he says, softly. genuinely. “please.”

and that’s when your voice cracks.

“did i do something wrong?”

you don’t mean for it to come out like that.

small. fragile. broken around the edges.

but there it is—bare and trembling in the air between you.

“did i do something wrong?”

suna’s breath stutters, his hand tightening just slightly on your knee. not out of anger. out of heartbreak. it’s written all over his face now—the pieces finally clicking into place, sharp and clear and cutting.

“no,” he breathes. “no, baby, you didn’t.”

you look away, ashamed, eyes blinking hard as your throat constricts. but he doesn’t let you pull away—not even in silence. he gently climbs onto the couch beside you, still shirtless, still warm from the shower, and wraps an arm around your shoulders like he’s trying to shield you from the weight you’ve been carrying alone.

“i just…” your voice trembles. “you haven’t touched me in weeks. you don’t look at me the way you used to. you barely come home anymore. i thought maybe—maybe i wasn’t enough for you anymore.”

“hey—hey.” he pulls back just enough to cup your cheeks, to make you look at him. “don’t say that. don’t even think that.”

you try to hold it together, but your bottom lip quivers.

“i trust you, rin. i do. i never thought you were cheating, or that there was someone else, i just… i miss how it used to be. i miss how you used to be with me. i miss you.”

he lets out a quiet sound, like it physically hurts to hear.

and then his forehead is pressed against yours, his hands cradling your face with aching care.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispers. “you didn’t do anything wrong. you’re still everything i want. everything i need. you always have been.”

“then why…?” your eyes flicker shut, voice barely a breath. “why did it start to feel like i wasn’t?”

“i got caught up,” he admits, voice hoarse. “with the team, and travel, and press—and i kept telling myself i’d make it up to you after the season, or the week after, or the next time i had energy. but all that time, i didn’t notice i was slowly… fading out of us. and i didn’t realize how far i’d drifted until i looked up tonight and you weren’t in bed. you were still out here, waiting.”

“i wasn’t waiting,” you say, barely.

he nods. “i know. i mean—i know you were done waiting. i should’ve come home to you weeks ago. i should’ve noticed that i was holding you at arm’s length when i should’ve been holding you close.”

he pauses, then says quietly:

“you never stopped being enough. i just stopped showing you that i saw it. that i saw you. and that’s on me.”

you blink again, this time letting the tears fall.

“rin…”

he wipes them with his thumbs, leaning in to kiss your cheeks—once, twice—then your nose, then your forehead.

“i love you,” he murmurs. “i love you so fucking much. and i’m sorry for making you feel anything less than wanted. i hate that you thought you had to question how much i still want you.”

your voice comes out cracked. “it’s been hard.”

“i know.” he kisses the corner of your mouth, soft and slow. “let me make it easier again.”

you hesitate. “i don’t want you to do it just because you feel bad.”

“i’m doing it because i miss you,” he says, firmer now. “because i’ve been starving for you and too fucking tired to reach out. but i’m reaching now. if you’ll let me.”

you nod slowly, and he presses his lips to yours fully this time—gentle at first, then deeper, like he’s pouring every apology and longing into the kiss. like he’s been aching too. like he finally remembered how to hold you.

he kisses you like he’s starved for it—like he’s been standing in the doorway of himself for weeks, unable to find the key, and tonight you finally let him in.

his hand slides up your thigh, warm and steady, until his fingers dip just beneath the edge of your shorts. his knuckles brush your inner thigh, and you shiver, gasping softly into his mouth. the heat that floods your body is instant—dizzying—and he groans as you squirm in response, like your reaction only feeds him.

“come here,” he murmurs, already tugging your hips toward him until you're lying flat on the couch cushions, head tilted back against the armrest.

he drops to his knees between your legs, and the moment he looks up at you—wet hair falling over his eyes, mouth already parted like he’s hungry—your breath catches in your throat.

“you okay?” he asks, softer now.

you nod, eyes half-lidded.

“i just… i missed you,” you whisper. “so much.”

his jaw clenches.

“i know,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “i’m gonna make it up to you, baby. just lay back. let me take care of you.”

you lift your hips obediently when he starts to tug your shorts down—slow, reverent, like he’s unwrapping something fragile. he kisses your inner thigh first, just barely grazing his lips over the sensitive skin, then drags his mouth higher.

when he sees how wet you are—already slick, glistening under the dim light—he pauses.

his eyes flick up to yours, and you don’t even try to hide it.

“i touched myself earlier,” you admit, cheeks burning. “it didn’t feel the same. i—i needed you.”

his jaw tightens, eyes darkening.

still kneeling between your thighs, his gaze drags down slowly—over your flushed cheeks, your heaving chest, the soaked curve of your panties stretched tight against your pussy. and he just stares.

his voice drops, low and edged with heat. “you know i hate it when you touch yourself, baby.”

you shiver.

“but…” he leans in, nuzzles your inner thigh, his lips brushing hot against your skin, “…i wasn’t there for you, huh?”

you nod faintly, biting your lip. “i tried. it just… didn’t work.”

he hums against your skin, one hand trailing up your thigh, splaying wide over your hip. “because this pussy doesn’t open for anyone but me.”

your breath catches in your throat.

then—he hooks his fingers into your panties and drags them down excruciatingly slow, eyes locked on your glistening cunt. you swear you feel his breath hitch when he sees how wet you are.

“fuck,” he breathes, like it punches the air out of him. “you’re soaked.”

he leans in without hesitation, licking a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit—and moans.

loudly.

like the taste of you alone nearly makes him lose it.

“missed this,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “missed you.”

then he dives in.

his mouth seals over your clit like he’s starved—tongue warm and wet, flicking in tight, steady circles that make your thighs twitch. you gasp, back arching, and he groans again, like your reaction turns him on more than anything.

his tongue flattens and licks broad and slow, then tightens again to flick quick patterns over your clit. when you whimper, he slides his hands up, pressing your hips down with his forearms to keep you in place, to stop you from squirming away.

“you don’t get to run,” he says against you, voice muffled. “you wanted this—missed this. let me give it to you.”

and god, he gives.

he moves like he’s memorized every sound you make, every tremble, every part of you that begs to be touched. his tongue works your clit in perfect rhythm—slow, steady, precise. he moans every time you gasp his name. and when your fingers slide into his hair, tugging, gripping, he growls into your cunt like he wants to drown in it.

“rinnie—” you gasp.

that name. that soft little plea.

it makes something snap in him.

he pulls back for a second, lips slick, panting, and stares at your ruined expression.

“say it again.”

“rinnie,” you whisper, voice shaking.

his mouth crashes back to your clit and he slides two fingers into you with practiced ease. they stretch you open—deep, slow, curling perfectly against your sweet spot.

you cry out, body arching. “oh my—rin—!”

he starts fucking you with his fingers—deep and unrelenting. his pace is slow, but brutal, curling on every thrust. paired with his tongue flicking your clit again, your whole body starts to tremble.

you’re drenched. you hear it. every wet drag of his fingers, every slick suck of his lips over your clit.

“so fucking tight,” he rasps against you. “this pussy’s been waiting for me, huh?”

“y-yes—!”

“this is mine,” he growls. “say it.”

“yours! it’s yours—rinnie, please—!”

his fingers speed up.

his mouth stays locked on your clit, sucking harder now—his tongue flicking faster, relentless. the combination builds fast—pressure curling, tightening, cresting under your skin like a wave you can’t stop.

“i wanna feel you cum, baby,” he pants against your pussy. “you gonna let me taste it?”

you’re too far gone to speak.

so you moan, and moan, hips bucking, thighs trembling.

and then—

you fall apart.

your orgasm rips through you—sharp and hot and overwhelming—your walls fluttering around his fingers, your cries echoing in the room.

suna moans into your release, drinks it down like it’s holy. he doesn’t stop. not until your body jerks from oversensitivity, and your hand pulls weakly at his hair.

then, slowly, he eases his fingers out and kisses your inner thigh like he’s thanking you.

you’re a mess—panting, legs trembling, chest heaving with every shaky breath. your skin is flushed with heat, overstimulated and glowing, and slick glistens between your thighs, dripping onto the couch cushions beneath you.

and him—suna—he’s still kneeling there, shirtless, broad shoulders rising and falling slowly, his chest kissed with droplets from his earlier shower. the towel around his waist has loosened just slightly, dangerously low on his hips, and his cock strains against the fabric, hard and heavy.

his chin glistens with your release, his lips swollen and pink. his eyes—dark, glassy, starving—drink you in like he’s imprinting every ruined inch of you into his memory.

and then—

he raises his hand.

two fingers glistening with your cum. slick and shining in the low light.

and without breaking eye contact—

suna brings those fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.

slow. leisurely. obscene.

his lips wrap around them and he moans low in his throat, tongue dragging up to savor every last drop of you.

your breath catches hard in your throat.

you feel it.

another gush of heat between your legs—like your body’s responding all over again, already throbbing with fresh want.

he notices.

the corner of his mouth lifts, slow and lazy, but his eyes are still hazy with need. still dark.

“you’re wet again,” he says quietly, fingers slipping from his mouth with a soft pop. his voice is low—dangerous—but wrapped in velvet. “that turn you on, baby?”

you can’t even deny it. not when your thighs press together involuntarily, chasing the friction. not when your skin burns under his gaze like he’s touching you with his eyes alone.

your voice comes out breathy. “rinnie…”

and that name—that sweet, submissive lilt—makes his towel tent even more.

he growls, climbing up onto the couch, crowding over your body.

“you taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you again. “and you’re gonna let me fuck you now, yeah?”

your breath hitches.

he presses his forehead to yours, thumb caressing your cheek.

“let me make love to you slow, baby,” he whispers, voice wrecked with reverence. “let me remind you what it means to be mine.”

you barely nod before his arms are sliding beneath your back and thighs, lifting you effortlessly from the couch. the shift makes you gasp, but he holds you close, your bare chest pressed to his while your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. the towel is bunched between you now, loose and useless, your slick center brushing against the rigid outline of his cock.

you can feel him—hot, thick, already throbbing.

suna walks with slow, steady steps toward the bedroom, eyes fixed on you. he nudges the door open with his foot, never once faltering in his hold. the hallway light hits just enough to cast the sharp lines of his jaw and the soft gleam in his eyes.

you’re both half-undressed, your body flushed and still twitching from your orgasm, but your need spikes again just from feeling him so close—so hard. you grind against him instinctively, rolling your hips forward to chase the friction.

he hisses under his breath, arms tightening around you.

then—smack.

his hand lands firm and hot against your thigh, just enough to make you jolt.

“behave,” he mutters, voice dark now. his lips graze your ear, and you can feel the warning in his breath. “you wanna cum again tonight, don’t you?”

you bite your lip, nodding wordlessly.

“then wait,” he says, his palm smoothing over the sting he just left. “be good for me. i’ll give you everything. just let me get you to bed.”

you whimper, the heat between your legs pulsing at the way he speaks to you—firm but reverent, like you’re something precious and his.

on the way to the bedroom, his hoodie and your bra are discarded along the hall—rushed, messy, fevered. the moment you reach the bed, he lays you down gently, almost worshipfully, like you’re breakable and holy all at once.

he looks down at you.

bare. breathless. glowing.

and he lets the towel drop.

it pools at his feet, but your gaze doesn’t follow it. your eyes are locked on the heavy line of his cock—hard, flushed, thick, the tip glistening with arousal. he’s already leaking, already twitching as if your soaked body alone is enough to ruin him.

your thighs instinctively fall open, legs parting like muscle memory, inviting him in. suna watches the motion with a soft inhale, his eyes hungry, dark with something primal.

“look at you,” he murmurs, climbing over you slowly, like he’s savoring the view of your bare body spread out just for him. “dripping for me already.”

he leans down, kissing your collarbone first—slow, open-mouthed—then drags his lips across your skin until he reaches your mouth. and when he kisses you again, it’s warm and deep and wet, the kind of kiss that swallows everything.

he kisses you like he’s been dying of thirst and you’re the only thing that could ever quench it.

his hips dip lower, cock sliding through your folds, coating himself in your slick. he moans softly into your mouth when he feels how ready you are—how wet and swollen and clenching at nothing.

“feel that?” he murmurs, voice rough, hips rocking gently to tease your clit with the thick, aching head of his cock. “your pussy’s begging, baby.”

you whimper into his kiss, hips rising to meet his.

then—finally—he pushes in.

the tip eases past your entrance, stretching you open so slowly it makes your eyes roll back. he doesn’t rush it. he keeps kissing you, swallowing your shaky moans as he fills you inch by inch. his tongue slips into your mouth with the same lazy intensity, syncing perfectly with the slow, deliberate slide of his cock.

“fuck,” he hisses against your lips. “so tight. so warm. still the best thing i’ve ever felt.”

you break the kiss with a gasp, head tilting back into the pillow. he follows, mouthing down your throat, your jaw, the edge of your lips. you’re trying to breathe, trying to think, but he’s barely halfway in and your body already feels like it’s burning alive.

your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in when his hips roll forward again, pushing deeper.

“r-rinnie,” you moan, voice breaking into a whisper. “it’s so much…”

he kisses you again—slower this time, deeper.

“i know, baby. you’re taking me so well,” he murmurs against your mouth. “just like that. let me in. let me fill you up.”

his hand cups your thigh, spreading you wider. his pace never quickens—never—he sinks in slow, thick inch by thick inch, kissing you through the stretch, through the way your body tightens around him like you’ve been waiting to be whole again.

you whine against his lips, body arching, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming stretch and sweetness of it all.

when his hips finally press flush against yours, he doesn’t move.

he just holds himself there—buried to the hilt, twitching inside you—his lips brushing yours with a reverent sigh.

“there,” he whispers. “finally.”

you nod, dazed, barely able to speak.

“you feel me, baby?” he murmurs. “deep inside you, where i belong?”

“yes—rinnie, i feel you, i feel everything—”

he kisses you again, swallowing the way your voice trembles, and he doesn’t pull out yet. instead, he rocks his hips gently, barely moving—just enough for you to feel the weight of him, the thickness, the stretch.

“gonna take my time,” he promises, voice thick with emotion. “gonna love you so good you’ll forget all the nights i wasn’t here.”

your hands cup his face now, lips brushing his as your eyes flutter closed.

“just don’t stop,” you whisper. “don’t leave me empty anymore.”

his expression softens like he’s about to break.

“i won’t,” he says. “never again.”

and then—he pulls out just an inch, then slides back in, kissing you harder now.

and finally, finally, suna starts to move.

his hips roll into you with a lazy, deliberate rhythm—each thrust slow, smooth, like he’s memorizing the way your walls flutter around him. there’s no urgency, no rush. just the deep, steady grind of his cock inside you and the weight of his body pressed so perfectly into yours.

his lips never stray far from your skin. he peppers soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, then down to your shoulder, lingering at the dip of your collarbone like he’s anchoring himself there. every kiss is slow, reverent—matched to the way he moves inside you, the way he fills you with every deep, perfect stroke.

“feels so good,” he whispers against your skin. “so warm. so tight. you always take me so well.”

you gasp softly, fingers threading through his hair as you tilt your head, giving him more of your throat. he takes it, mouthing gently at your pulse point, his breath hot and ragged.

“missed this. missed you.”

he thrusts again—deep, slow, the kind of pace that makes your toes curl and your breath catch.

“i never got tired of you,” he murmurs, voice rough but steady. “not once. never stopped wanting you, baby.”

you whimper his name—“rinnie”—and his hips stutter, just slightly.

his hand slides down to grip your thigh, spreading you wider as he rocks into you again, a little deeper this time. your body stretches around him perfectly, molding to every slow, grinding thrust like he was made for you.

“not your body,” he continues, kissing below your ear, “not your voice, not the way you look at me when you’re falling apart.”

his words settle deep, like warm honey sinking into cracked skin.

“fuck, i missed this sweet little pussy,” he groans into your shoulder, voice husky. “i’ve been so out of it i forgot how fucking good it feels to be home.”

you choke on a moan, clinging to him tighter as your hips roll up to meet his—chasing his rhythm, desperate to be even closer.

“rinnie—please, don’t stop.”

“not going anywhere,” he breathes, kissing your jaw, your temple, your mouth again. “you hear me? i’m not gonna stop. not until you believe how much i still love you.”

his thrusts stay deep, measured—his cock dragging perfectly along your walls, kissing that sweet spot inside you with every roll of his hips. you feel so full, so cherished, your body buzzing under the slow build of heat.

and all the while, he never stops touching you, kissing you, talking to you.

“you’re everything to me.”

“you’re the best thing i’ve ever come home to.”

“i’m sorry it took me so long to show it.”

your heart squeezes painfully, eyes brimming with tears as you breathe out his name again.

and he kisses the corner of your mouth, whispering against your lips:

“let me stay here. let me love you right this time.”

the words linger in the air, wrapped in the heat of your skin and the tremble of your breath. your legs are still wrapped loosely around his waist, your arms clinging around his shoulders like you’re afraid he’ll disappear again if you let go. but he doesn’t. suna stays right there—inside you, above you, around you—thrusting slow and deep, like he’s in no hurry to reach the end.

his palm smooths along the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. his forehead rests against yours, breath mingling as he presses another kiss to your lips—soft, warm, home.

it’s quiet for a beat.

just your bodies moving together.

your soft moans swallowed between kisses.

the slick sound of him sliding in and out of you.

the weight of weeks of longing melting between the sheets.

but the ache is growing—coiling low in your belly. the slow rhythm is beautiful, addicting—but it’s not enough anymore. not with how full you feel. not with how much you need him.

your voice is barely more than a whimper.

“rin… faster, please.”

he freezes, eyes flicking down to meet yours.

and just like that—his expression shifts.

from tender to something darker. more possessive.

his lips curl into a quiet, knowing smirk. “could’ve just asked, baby.”

then his hands slide down—gripping the backs of your thighs as he pushes your knees toward your chest, folding you beneath him in one smooth, practiced motion.

the mating press.

his favorite.

because this is the position where he feels the most connected to you—where he can press every inch of himself into you, watch the way your face contorts with every thrust, feel your pussy tighten around him with nowhere to run.

where he can fuck you deep enough to hit your soul.

“you know i love you like this,” he grits out, adjusting his hips until the angle is perfect, until he’s buried even deeper.

you cry out at the stretch, the sudden change, your hands clutching at the sheets.

and then he starts to move.

harder. deeper.

his hips snap into yours, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. every stroke punches a moan out of you, your legs trembling where they’re pinned against his chest. he doesn’t let up—he won’t.

then—he leans down, shifting his weight so your thighs are still pressed high but his chest meets yours again. his mouth finds your breast, warm and wet as he wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks.

your head falls back with a moan. “rinnie—!”

he groans around your skin, tongue swirling slowly, then fast, then pulling off with a soft pop before switching to the other.

“can’t get enough of you,” he pants, voice muffled against your chest. “wanna be close. wanna be inside you when you cum.”

your nails dig into his back as he fucks you deeper, faster, rougher—his mouth latching onto your nipple again like he’s drinking from you, like it grounds him.

“rin, i’m—! i’m gonna—!”

“i know, baby,” he groans, voice cracked with the effort of restraint, his hips stuttering just slightly from the way your walls are already fluttering around him. “cum for me. milk my cock. show me how good i make you feel.”

and then he shifts—just barely—but enough to slip one hand down from your thigh and press it between your bodies. the way he moves, the way he always knows exactly what you need, even now with his cock buried deep inside you, makes your heart swell.

his fingers find your clit instantly, already slick and swollen from how thoroughly he’s worked you up.

and then—he touches you.

a single, perfect swipe.

your back arches, a cry tearing from your throat before you can even bite it back.

“rinnie—!”

“i’ve got you,” he whispers, low and reverent, eyes flickering from your trembling body to your face as his thumb begins to rub slow, tight circles over your clit. “i always do.”

his thrusts stay deep and unrelenting, grinding into your cervix with each push as your thighs shake around his waist, pinned wide in his favorite position. the mating press makes you feel so full, so claimed, so his. and with his fingers teasing your clit—just right, just perfect—it’s too much.

you sob beneath him, pleasure threatening to snap loose like a wire pulled too tight.

every thrust hits your sweet spot dead-on, his cock dragging against every oversensitive nerve, while his thumb massages slow circles that have your vision going blurry, breath leaving your lungs in shuddering gasps.

“you gonna cum, pretty girl?” he pants, lips grazing your jaw. “gonna cum all over my cock while i’m this deep inside you?”

you nod frantically, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes from how overwhelming it feels.

“yes—yes, rinnie, i—oh my god, i’m gonna—”

“then fuckin’ let go.”

he leans in close, pressing his mouth to yours, and the second you moan into the kiss—your entire body breaks.

your orgasm hits like lightning—hard and hot, making your thighs twitch violently and your core clamp down around him in pulsing waves. your back lifts off the bed, body arching against his as you cry out his name over and over again, voice raw and ruined.

“fuck, yes—cum on my cock, just like that,” he growls, watching your face, eyes nearly wild as he feels you squeeze and throb around him. “god, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful like this. so perfect. this pussy was made for me.”

you can’t even speak—only sob, gasping as his cock continues to grind deep, his thumb slowing its circles now as your orgasm washes through you in long, drawn-out tremors.

your body collapses against the bed, boneless and overwhelmed, every nerve ending still buzzing.

but he’s still hard. still inside you.

and still fighting his own edge.

suna groans above you, his pace beginning to falter, a different kind of urgency taking over his movements now. his hand leaves your clit to grip your thigh again, pushing your legs even higher, even tighter to your chest.

“so fuckin’ tight when you cum,” he growls, hips snapping harder now, chasing his own release. “can’t hold it anymore—gonna fill you up, baby—gonna cum so deep inside this pretty pussy—”

his breathing shudders as your walls continue fluttering around him, your body still wrung out and gripping him like you never want to let go.

you manage to lift your arms, wrap them around his back, anchoring him to you.

“please,” you whisper, voice hoarse. “cum inside me, rinnie. want it so bad.”

that’s all it takes.

he plunges deep one last time—so deep it punches the air out of your lungs—and cums.

he moans your name as he spills into you, thick ropes of heat flooding your cunt, his cock twitching inside you with every wave of pleasure. his face buries into your neck, one hand gripping the back of your thigh, the other curled into the sheets beside your head as he rides out his orgasm in long, slow pulses.

you feel it. every drop. every throb.

and it only makes you hold him tighter.

he stays like that for a moment—breathing hard against your skin, chest rising and falling with yours, cock still buried deep, not ready to let go just yet.

“i needed that,” he breathes finally. “i needed you.”

you nod, lips brushing his temple, still trembling beneath him from the high. your heart pounds against your ribs, the slow stretch of afterglow sweeping over your limbs, but beneath it all—you're still pulsing. still needy. still not ready to let go.

and neither is he.

suna’s still inside you, his cock softening slightly from his orgasm, but the way your body stays wrapped around him—warm and wet and clenching gently with each little aftershock—has him breathing unevenly against your shoulder again.

his voice is rough, thick with the hint of a groan. “you’re gonna get me hard again if you keep squeezing me like that.”

you smile softly, tilting his chin up until your eyes meet.

“then let me take care of you now.”

he blinks, eyes fluttering, a little caught off-guard by the shift in your tone—no longer pleading or aching, but devoted. steady.

still straddling his waist in the mating press, you slowly slide off of him—every inch leaving you makes you both moan softly, the sensation almost too much, too bare. your thighs tremble as his cock slips free with a wet sound, followed immediately by the warm, slick spill of both your releases—his cum and yours—dripping from your swollen folds down onto his lower abdomen.

it’s messy. sticky. intimate in the way only lovers who’ve been through everything can be.

you try to move, try to shift off him gently, but suna catches the motion. his eyes drop immediately between your legs and he groans—deep and low in his throat, like he’s trying to keep it in but fails.

your mixed slick is coating your thighs, still trickling slowly down onto his stomach, and the sight wrecks him.

“fuck,” he breathes, eyes darkening again. “look at the mess we made…”

you don’t even get the chance to respond—not when you feel it.

him.

hardening again beneath you.

you glance down, eyes wide, as his cock, flushed and glistening, twitches back to life against his stomach. he’s already half-hard again, his breathing uneven just from the sight of you still soaked, your folds glistening and dripping with his cum.

“rinnie…” you murmur, somewhere between breathless and shy, “again?”

“i can’t help it,” he groans, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your back. “you’re still dripping, baby. fuck, i didn’t even get to watch it all spill out properly…”

you tremble, heat spiraling through your core again despite the exhaustion in your limbs.

“you do something to me,” he murmurs, sitting up so you’re straddling his lap again, chests flush. his cock presses right against your slit now, nudging between your folds, still slick with everything. “you make me insatiable.”

he leans in, kissing you—slow and greedy—his fingers sliding down to spread you open again, groaning into your mouth when he feels how soft and wet you still are.

“and you’re still ready for me,” he adds, voice rough. “still warm. still fucking perfect.”

you whimper into the kiss, rocking your hips against him again, helpless to the way your body responds.

your pussy’s still sore, stretched, and yet—his need for you, the heat of his voice, the mess between your thighs—has you wanting him again already.

“you think you can ride me now, sweetheart?” he murmurs, thumb grazing your clit with a featherlight touch. “wanna see you take me like you missed me.”

and you nod, breathless, already sinking back down—ready to remind him that no matter how many times he fills you, no matter how much he takes, you’ll always want more.

always want him.

your body aches, your thighs tremble, and your pussy’s still throbbing from everything he’s already given you—but none of that matters. not when he’s looking up at you like this. not when his touch is soft on your hips, like he’s trying to ground himself in your warmth.

suna leans back slightly against the pillows, legs spread, his toned chest rising and falling with each breath as he watches you from beneath heavy lids. his cock stands hard again, already flushed and leaking, the head slick from your shared release earlier.

“come here, baby,” he murmurs, voice low, thick with need. one of his hands slides down between you, wrapping around the base of his cock as he guides you toward it. “i’ll hold it. just take your time.”

you shift your hips, positioning yourself over him, your hands braced against his chest. slowly, carefully, you lower yourself down—letting the thick, aching head stretch you open once more.

both of you groan.

the feeling of him sinking into you again—after already being fucked so thoroughly—makes your head spin. he’s hot, thick, deep, and every inch feels like too much and still not enough.

“that’s it,” he pants, watching your face, his grip tightening around the base as you inch down farther. “take all of me. let me stretch you out again.”

you moan, breath hitching as your body accepts him—slowly, completely—until your hips finally meet his. you’re seated fully now, and you can feel everything. the stretch. the twitch. the fullness that has your pussy fluttering helplessly around him.

“fuck, you feel unreal,” he groans, both hands now gripping your waist. “look at you—already squeezing me like that.”

you begin to move—shallow bounces at first, your thighs trembling slightly with each rise and fall. his hands guide you, steady you, and soon your movements grow bolder—more confident—grinding down against his pelvis with every bounce.

the sound of slick skin meeting skin fills the room again, the wet heat of your cunt wrapping him so tightly that suna’s jaw clenches, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he opens them again—locked on you.

“come here,” he growls, sitting up suddenly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer until your chest is pressed to his.

and then—his mouth finds your breast.

he sucks in your nipple hungrily, moaning around the soft skin as he tongues it, teeth grazing lightly before he switches to the other with a wet pop. his hands never stop guiding your hips, helping you ride him in rhythm, pushing you down harder each time he thrusts up into you.

“rinnie—!” you cry, your hands tangled in his hair as you arch into his mouth, pleasure building again too fast. “that feels so good…”

“yeah?” he breathes between kisses and licks, lips shining. “these pretty tits missed me too, huh?”

he lavishes each nipple with attention—sucking, licking, pulling with just enough force to make your back arch and your pussy clamp down around him.

your rhythm grows messy, your moans louder, the coil in your belly winding tighter again as he thrusts up to meet every bounce of your hips, his cock dragging along all the right places inside you.

“don’t stop, baby,” he pants, fucking up into you now with more urgency. “wanna feel you cum again—ride me just like that—show me how much you missed this cock.”

and you do.

you ride him like your body was made to fit his. like his cock was crafted just for you—thick and deep and angled so perfectly that every bounce forces the air from your lungs and sends shocks of pleasure through your spine.

every time you drop your hips, he thrusts up to meet you, and the head of his cock kisses your cervix with an aching precision that leaves you trembling. it’s deep. devastating. the kind of depth that makes your vision blur and your breath come in stuttered moans.

“rinnie—fuck—it’s so deep,” you gasp, head falling to his shoulder. “i-i feel lightheaded…”

“i know, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and full of praise, his hands gripping your hips tighter, helping guide your rhythm. “you’re taking it so well. so fuckin’ good for me.”

his mouth finds your neck again, pressing kisses beneath your jaw, tongue flicking against the heat of your pulse point. one of his hands slides up, fingers splayed across your lower back, holding you steady as he bucks up harder, faster, the sound of your bodies meeting growing louder, wetter, messier.

your thighs burn. your clit rubs against the ridge of his pelvis with every movement. and your pussy—slick, swollen, fluttering—clings to him so desperately you swear you can feel the outline of every vein.

weeks. it’s been weeks.

weeks of aching. of waiting. of touching yourself in the quiet of night and hating how empty it felt.

but this?

this is everything.

his heat. his hands. the way he fills you up and stays there, panting against your skin like he needs you just as badly.

“missed this pussy,” he groans, voice cracking as your walls squeeze around him again. “so tight. so warm. no one gets to have you like this—just me.”

your thighs quake where they straddle him, your nails leaving crescent-shaped dents in his chest as your movements begin to falter. the rhythm you kept moments ago—desperate, steady, purposeful—is now stuttering into something sloppy and slow, hips barely rolling, your muscles too spent to keep up.

your head dips forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder as your mouth falls open in a soft, breathless moan.

that’s when he notices.

the way your moans turn into soft, broken whimpers.

the way your body trembles like it’s overwhelmed, overstimulated, ruined.

and suna grins.

a slow, knowing smirk curls against his lips as he looks up at you, the flush on your cheeks, the faraway haze in your eyes. his hands slide down, gripping your hips tighter, keeping you perched on his cock like a doll about to fall apart.

“ohhh,” he murmurs, voice deep, lazy, almost playful. “is my baby going cock dumb?”

you whimper, too dazed to even respond properly, only nodding against his neck as your pussy flutters around him again—wet, sensitive, clinging to every inch of him like your body can’t bear the thought of him pulling out.

“yeah?” he coos, a note of pride in his tone. “that’s what i thought.”

he doesn’t wait. he shifts beneath you, adjusting his position just slightly, and then—he starts to fuck up into you from below.

you sob, your fingers flying to clutch his shoulders as his cock punches into you over and over again, so deep, the tip brushing your cervix with every sharp thrust. the slick mess between your thighs makes the glide obscene—wet, hot, perfect.

“you were riding me so good, baby,” he pants, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “now look at you. barely holding on. just sittin’ on my cock like a dumb little bunny, letting me do all the work.”

his hands move to your ass, gripping tight, guiding your hips to grind down in rhythm with his thrusts. your clit rubs against his pubic bone just right—enough to make your entire body twitch.

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, mouth dragging along your jaw. “so deep. so full. this what you missed while i was gone, huh?”

“y-yes, rin—please, it’s so much—”

“you can take it,” he groans, pressing his forehead against yours. “you always do.”

then his mouth finds your nipple again—wet, hungry, greedy—sucking hard as he fucks you harder. his tongue flicks over the sensitive peak while one hand slips between your bodies again to rub tight, deliberate circles over your clit.

the stimulation is blinding.

his cock fucking up into you like he’s trying to brand the shape of himself into your body.

his mouth at your chest.

his voice whispering filth and devotion in the same breath.

his fingers never stopping.

“cum for me again, baby,” he grits, his thrusts turning rougher, deeper. “wanna feel that pretty pussy gush all over me again. i need to feel it.”

your back arches. your thighs start to shake again. and your orgasm builds fast—white-hot and overwhelming, swelling inside you like pressure about to burst.

“rinnie—!” you cry, your entire body going taut. “i—i’m cumming—!”

and then it hits.

your walls clench hard—tightening around him like a vice, squeezing his cock so perfectly it draws a strangled moan from deep in his chest. your climax rips through you like a tidal wave, crashing fast and furious, leaving you breathless as your moans dissolve into shattered whimpers. your entire body trembles in his lap, thighs quaking, nails digging into his shoulders as your release gushes from you uncontrollably. it hits hard—sharp, hot, overwhelming—and then your body reacts.

you squirt.

the pressure releases all at once, sudden and messy, and your slick spills out of you in wet pulses. it covers both your thighs and his abs, drenching his lower stomach, soaking his cock, the bed beneath you already ruined. you gasp, head thrown back, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as the pleasure peaks and doesn’t let go.

“fuck,” suna groans, watching it happen with parted lips, jaw slack. “you squirted, baby—fuck, look at that. look what i do to you.”

you can’t even answer. you’re still shaking, barely able to hold yourself upright, your thighs limp where they straddle his lap. you feel like you’ve melted, like you’ve unraveled entirely. and still—still—he’s hard inside you. still thick, still pulsing, twitching against your oversensitive walls. he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t even think about stopping.

instead, he grips your hips tight, lifts you slightly, and drives up into you again.

your cry is sharp and wrecked, fingernails dragging down his back as your overstimulated cunt clamps around him again, your whole body jerking from the intensity.

“s–suna—rinnie—please, i—” you gasp, but the words fall apart when he thrusts again, deep, slow, and deliberate.

“oh, you’re not done,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and feral. “you think you can cum like that and not get fucked through it?”

you try to speak again, try to find something to cling to, but then he rolls his hips up—his cock dragging against every too-sensitive nerve ending inside you—and your hands fly to his shoulders, digging in hard. your nails scratch down his back in helpless, shaky arcs, and he groans, head falling to your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

“mark me, baby,” he pants, fucking up into you harder now. “go ahead. scratch me. bite me. let me feel how good it is.”

you do. without even thinking, you sink your teeth into the skin of his shoulder, muffling your moan as another wave of pleasure slams into you. he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking up in response, his cock pressing even deeper—filling you in a way that has your body arching, your head spinning.

“you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, the sound of your soaked pussy squelching around him with every thrust. “this pussy’s so messy for me. so fuckin’ perfect. you like it when i fuck you after you cum, huh? when you’re too sensitive and still can’t stop squeezing me?”

you nod against his shoulder, still biting down, your moans breaking through your clenched jaw as he picks up the pace. he’s relentless now, hands holding your hips in place as he uses you—drives up into you with hard, deep thrusts that have your breath catching, your entire body lit up from the overstimulation.

each drag of his cock makes you twitch. each grind of his hips against yours sends another electric shock through your system.

you’re sobbing now—too much, too full, too fucked out—and he’s still praising you through it.

“take it, baby,” he breathes. “take all of it. you’re doing so good. let me fuck you dumb. let me make you forget your own name.”

your pussy flutters again, clenching down on him like a vice, and he groans so loud it vibrates through your chest. his rhythm stutters, hips bucking more erratically now, breath catching.

“gonna fill you up again,” he growls, voice wrecked. “wanna cum so deep, make you feel me for days.”

you nod again, eyes rolling back, body giving in completely.

“please,” you whisper. “please, rinnie, cum inside me. want all of it.”

that’s what does it.

he lets out a low, broken moan, burying his face in your neck as he thrusts deep, deeper, then stills—his cock twitching violently as he spills inside you. thick warmth fills you again, flooding your sore, stretched walls as he holds you tight, arms trembling around your waist, chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths.

he stays there, buried to the hilt, pulsing, groaning softly as you twitch around him—still trembling, still so full, your walls fluttering weakly with every aftershock. his cum leaks out in slow, warm trails, dripping down between your thighs and smearing across both your bodies in the tangled mess you’ve made together.

but even after everything—after you squirted all over his abs, after he came deep inside you for the second time, after your entire body is limp and trembling in his arms—you feel it.

him.

still hard.

still inside you.

and when you whimper, shifting just a little on his lap, the slight movement makes his cock twitch again, still thick and rigid despite how thoroughly he just came. your head lolls against his shoulder, dazed and barely able to think straight.

“rin… you’re still… hard?”

he chuckles low in your ear, the sound deep and smug, his hands stroking slowly down your back.

“told you i missed you,” he murmurs, voice rasping with the weight of his lust. “i’m not done.”

you don’t even have the strength to respond—not with words. but your pussy clenches weakly around him, your thighs twitching, and that’s answer enough.

he shifts you gently, guiding your hips again, and groans when the motion makes your swollen, used cunt squeeze down on him with resistance. you’re sore, so sore, but the sensation of still being stretched open around him, of still feeling his cock twitching inside you, has heat building in your gut again.

“i’ve been away too long,” he mutters, lifting you slightly before thrusting back in—slow and deep, making you moan softly against his skin. “weeks without you. you think i’m gonna stop at two rounds?”

you cry out softly as he starts to move again, dragging his cock in and out of you with slow, grinding thrusts, letting you feel every inch. it’s not rushed this time—it’s deliberate. heavy. sensual. his hands cradle your hips, guiding your body to meet his rhythm.

“you deserve more than that,” he whispers, brushing his lips along your cheek. “deserve to be fucked so good you can’t walk tomorrow.”

you bury your face in his neck, moaning weakly, body already starting to melt again as overstimulation gives way to something new—slower, deeper, a third round wrapped in pleasure that borders on worship.

suna leans back against the pillows, shifting you slightly so your knees are spread wider, your chest pressed close to his, his cock sliding even deeper from the angle. he kisses you then—soft and possessive—while his hips roll up into you again and again, stretching you slowly as your slick mixes with his release and drips down his shaft.

“you gonna let me make up for all that lost time, baby?” he whispers against your lips, voice husky. “gonna let me fuck you again? take it like the good girl you are?”

you nod helplessly, barely coherent now. every inch of your skin feels fevered. your heart pounds. your body burns for him again.

and he gives you everything.

he proves himself over and over again.

with every deep thrust that leaves you gasping.

with every kiss that lingers on your skin like a promise.

with every time he brings you to the edge and pulls you back in.

and long into the night—until you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve cum, how many times he’s filled you—he holds you close, bodies still joined, proving that you were never too much to want.

he just needed time to remember how much he missed everything about you.

now here he was, kneeling at the edge of the bed with a towel in hand, wiping your thighs with slow, deliberate care.

the room is warm with the scent of sex and sweat, heavy with the afterglow of everything that’s just unraveled between you. the sheets are a soaked mess beneath you, tangled and clinging to your body, while your limbs lie slack, trembling, utterly spent. your skin is flushed, glistening in the low light. your chest rises and falls in unsteady breaths, and your thighs twitch involuntarily every time he touches you—still reeling from that final climax.

suna is quiet now, all of that teasing energy faded into something softer, something intimate. his hands move gently over your legs, wiping up the slick trails of cum and arousal that have dripped down to the backs of your knees. his thumb strokes just beneath the crease of your thigh, and even that has you flinching.

“easy,” he murmurs, glancing up at you with tired but affectionate eyes. “i’ve got you.”

you nod weakly, your voice hoarse from moaning his name all night. “i know… i’m just still—sensitive.”

he smiles at that. “yeah, i know.”

you watch as he folds the towel, his brows furrowed in concentration as he leans back in, wiping again, slower now.

and then, because he’s always been a little selfish when it comes to you, suna leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your trembling thigh.

“rin—” you start, a soft warning in your voice, but it’s too late.

his tongue is already dragging up your overstimulated slit, collecting the last remnants of his cum and your release, and you gasp, your hips jerking upward as your hand flies to his hair.

“i’m just cleaning you up,” he murmurs with a devilish smirk, but the way his mouth moves against you is anything but innocent. it’s slow, tender, savoring.

and somehow, even after everything—your body responds.

your legs twitch again, a sharp tremor crawling up your spine, and you shake your head, breath catching.

“rinnie—please—i can’t—” you whisper, but you’re already grinding against his mouth without realizing it.

his arms snake around your thighs, holding you open as his tongue dips into your entrance again, licking you through it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

one long stroke, then another.

and your body gives up.

you squirt again.

it’s sudden and messy, a wet gasp tearing from your throat as you soak his face with a hot rush of release. it pours down your thighs and splashes across his chest, some of it dripping to the floor beside the bed, and you collapse fully into the sheets, eyes fluttering back as your body convulses one last time.

he groans into you like it’s the best gift he’s ever received, letting the warmth of your release soak him as he finally pulls back—face dripping, lips parted, his abs slick and glistening.

“shit, baby…” he pants, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks at you with pure disbelief. “you really missed me.”

you can’t even answer. you just groan, turning your head into the pillow, utterly ruined.

he laughs, breathless and fond, and reaches for a clean towel, dabbing your thighs again, this time with a reverence that makes your heart ache. he doesn’t rush. he wipes gently between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your knees, your hips, the swell of your stomach.

“okay,” he murmurs, voice low now, soothing. “let’s get you in the shower. you need to be warm and clean. i’ll help you.”

you don’t protest. you can’t. your body’s heavy and sore, but when suna lifts you into his arms bridal-style, everything in you goes quiet. safe. anchored. he carries you down the hall, bare skin against bare skin, your arms looped around his neck as your head rests on his shoulder.

the bathroom light is soft. the water’s already running—warm, with the faintest scent of lavender from the body wash you both share.

suna sets you down carefully on the shower bench and steps inside with you, guiding your body beneath the spray. he stands behind you, shielding you from the pressure of the water, and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his cheek against the back of your head.

you sigh. the water rolls down your skin like peace itself, soothing the soreness blooming in your thighs, the ache between your legs, the raw tremble in your muscles from being thoroughly and lovingly ruined. you lean back against suna’s chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as the steam rises around you both.

but the silence—the warmth—the intimacy—it's not enough.

not when he’s right there.

not when your body still remembers the stretch of him inside you. not when your skin is still buzzing with the echo of every touch, every kiss, every praise-soaked thrust.

"rin…" your voice is quiet, a bit raspier than usual, fragile and needy, "i want more."

he doesn’t move right away. you can feel his lips curve into the faintest smile against your wet shoulder.

then his arms tighten around you.

“baby…” he hums, low and indulgent. “you’ve cum how many times tonight?”

you pout, head tipping back to rest against his shoulder, eyes fluttering open lazily. “i don’t know. a lot?”

he chuckles, nuzzling into the curve of your neck, his breath warm and teasing against your damp skin.

“exactly. you squirted so many times i lost count. you’re spent,” he murmurs. “and i’m not about to let you pass out in the shower just because your pussy’s greedy.”

you flush, both from the warmth of the water and his words, and you squirm a little in his hold, grinding back against where you can already feel him half-hard, heat pressed up against the curve of your ass. you’re too sensitive to do anything serious, but even the faint contact has both of you groaning quietly.

still, he tightens his grip immediately, stilling your hips with a firm hand across your stomach.

“hey,” he warns, voice suddenly stern against your ear. “what did i just say?”

“but—”

“no buts,” he mutters, mouth brushing along your jaw as he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss there. “don’t make me bend you over this bench and hold your thighs open while you cry from overstimulation.”

you shiver—not entirely from fear.

he smirks again, knowing exactly what he’s doing, before softening as he kisses your temple.

“i mean it,” he murmurs. “you’ve been so good for me tonight. let me take care of you properly. you’ll get more tomorrow—hell, you’ll get everything tomorrow.”

you lean back into him, huffing softly, your bottom lip jutting out as you whisper, “promise?”

suna kisses the pout away, slow and deliberate.

“i promise,” he breathes. “wanna see you on your knees. then ride you again. want to fuck you in front of the mirror. all of it.”

you moan into the kiss, but when your hips twitch again—another teasing grind—he growls softly and slaps your thigh gently under the water.

“behave,” he murmurs against your lips.

so instead, you melt into him, letting him tilt your chin toward his, his mouth finding yours again with no rush, no heat—just long, tender kisses beneath the stream of water. the kind that say i’m not done with you—not even close—but right now, i love you too much to fuck you again when your legs are already trembling.

your arms loop around his neck, fingers carding into his wet hair as he kisses you deeper. you moan softly when his tongue slides into your mouth, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you all over again.

his hands roam your back, slow and reassuring, massaging out the tension in your shoulders. he kisses you again and again, coaxing you down from the edge you didn’t even know you were still standing on.

and even though he doesn’t take you again in the shower, that kiss—the way he holds you against him, strong and steady, murmuring soft little praises between each press of his lips—it feels like more. more than sex. more than lust. it’s him saying: i love you. i missed you. i see you.

when the water is turned off and the steam begins to settle, he wraps you gently in a towel and dries you off like you’re something fragile—like he’s afraid to lose you again to the space that had grown quietly between you these past few weeks.

suna hums under his breath while helping you into your favorite sleep shirt, one that’s oversized and soft, one that used to be his. he slides on his boxers, still damp around the edges, then gently combs his fingers through your damp hair, tucking it behind your ears like it’s second nature. there’s no rush in any of it—just tenderness, care, and quiet devotion.

back in bed, the sheets have been changed—he did that too, while you rested your head against the bathroom counter, legs too weak to stand fully. now the duvet is clean and warm, the lights dimmed low, and when you climb into bed beside him, his arms are already waiting to pull you into the curve of his body.

you curl into him like muscle memory, your leg tangled over his, cheek pressed against his chest. his hand strokes your back lazily, up and down, grounding you.

“you’re so good to me,” you murmur, voice soft and sleepy.

“not as good as you are to me,” he replies without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

there’s a pause, a silence filled with his fingertips tracing shapes into your spine.

“rinnie,” you whisper, “you’re not… tired of me, right?”

his hand stills.

he shifts slightly, tilting your chin up so you’ll look at him, even in the low light.

“never,” he says firmly, his voice low and hoarse from everything—sex, emotion, everything. “i’d never get tired of you.”

you blink slowly, lip quivering just slightly. “even if we don’t do stuff like tonight all the time?”

“baby,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your temple, your cheek, then your lips. “i didn’t fall in love with you because of what we do in bed. i fell in love with you because you’re you. the way you always know when to check on me. the way you always leave the hallway light on because you know i hate coming home to a dark apartment. the way you still get nervous when i kiss your neck like i didn’t already make you mine years ago.”

his voice gets softer, more serious.

“i got exhausted. i let the world outside this apartment wear me down, and i forgot how much you were waiting for me. that’s on me. but being with you? coming home to you? touching you, holding you, just lying here like this? i crave it. i crave you. always.”

you bury your face into his neck, pressing a slow kiss to his skin, holding him tighter.

“i wanna sleep with you still inside me,” you whisper.

he tenses just slightly, then sighs into your hair with a low chuckle.

“you’re insatiable,” he murmurs, voice fond. “you really want me to stay inside you while you sleep?”

you nod against his neck. “you said you missed me…”

“i did,” he groans. “i still do. i always do.”

another sigh, this time heavier, but laced with nothing but surrender. he shifts onto his side, nudging your thighs apart as he settles behind you, one hand guiding himself back to your entrance—still slick, still warm.

he slides in slow, careful, groaning low in his throat as he buries himself inside your sensitive cunt one last time.

you gasp, body relaxing immediately at the feeling of being full again—of him, deep and slow and safe.

he wraps his arms around you from behind, one hand cupping your breast, the other holding your waist as he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“happy now?” he mumbles sleepily.

“mhm,” you breathe, already drifting. “perfect.”

and that’s how you fall asleep—his cock still nestled inside you, his arms wrapped tight around your body, your heart steady again in the rhythm of his presence.

for the first time in weeks, the bed doesn’t feel cold.

it feels like home.

[iamchll]

damn, I need MORE of this.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ match my freak !!

ᝰ.ᐟ the two of you are private not secret, but when the media starts to speculate that the two of you are no longer together, neither of you are too happy. the best way to get everyone to stop with the breakup rumors? posting something a little bit nasty to the feed to satiate everyone's curiosity. (fem!reader)

featuring tobio kageyama, atsumu miya, tetsurou kuroo, wakatoshi ushijima, tooru oikawa, rintarou suna content contains breeding kink (atsumu, wakatoshi), pregnant reader (wakatoshi), famous!reader (changes depending on scenario), creampie (tetsurou), hatefucking (not really, you + kuroo just like to antagonize each other but the attraction is there), scratches on his back (tobio), hickeys (tooru), wet n messy (rintarou), possessive!character x possessive!reader (the two of you are obsessed with each other ok), social media references lol author's notes i'm definitely doing a blue lock version, i'm just seeing if this is a popular premise lol <3 based off this original concept !! these are just silly little drabbles for me to warm up to the idea of writing again haha

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.

you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...

well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.

"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.

he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.

when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.

tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.

౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA

haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)

he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.

atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.

"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.

in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.

"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"

he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.

"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."

your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.

౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO

the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."

you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.

"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.

but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.

"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.

with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.

"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.

he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."

you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.

and he's going to give it to you.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?

he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.

even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.

he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.

"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA

everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?

he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.

"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.

"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.

"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.

"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?

as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.

౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA

your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—

suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.

you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.

because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.

your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.

your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.

"rinnie." you whine out, still subconsciously bucking up your hips. he smiles before resuming his original ministrations, gluttonous and greedy with how sloppy and hungry he is with you. if you're still capable of talking, then you're not too fucked out to not allow him to get his fill.

[iamchll]

really gut wrenching angst for me, this is what I want for angst!!!! I like it so much!! 🥹

i didn't mean it.

synopsis: your boyfriend says something and makes you insecure.

characters: iwaizumi, akaashi x gn!reader

warnings: angst to fluff

note/s: reuploading my old haikyuu works so don't mind me!

iwaizumi:

you were on your way to iwaizumi’s house after oikawa texted you that he was being extra mean today. you held a box of pizza in one hand, as you texted oikawa back saying that you’ve gotten it under control.

once you got to his house, his mother opened the door with a relieved look on her face when she saw that it was you by the door. with a small goodluck. she sent you up to her son’s room.

you noticed that the hallway leading to your boyfriend’s room was messy. you sighed, knowing it was a result of him being fidgety. he couldn’t help it. and you can never blame him for that.

knocking twice on his room, you opened his door and saw him looking stressed by his desk. a few crumpled pieces of paper littered his floor as his head was between his hands, clenching his hair in frustration.

“haji?” you called out, noticing the rejected letter from one of the few universities he applied to.

he didn’t seem to hear you, having himself be lost in his thoughts. you closed the door quietly and set the food to the side. you carefully walked to where he was, not wanting to startle the stressed ravenette.

apparently, you weren’t careful enough as his head snapped when you accidentally stepped on a piece of plastic that you didn’t notice was there.

“what are you doing here?” his voice was straight up venom. the tone caught you off guard.

“oikawa texted me saying that you were in a bad mood.” you explained, taking a step closer to him in a means of wanting to comfort him.

“yeah well, i am. i think you should go for now.” iwaizumi said, not looking at you. you swallowed on nothing as you shook your head.

“i want to help, haji.” he scoffed. you knew it was all due to stress… or so you hoped.

“clearly you’re not helping around by staying here,” he retorted. your hands stilled by your sides.

“hajime, you know bottling up isn’t good for you.” you reasoned out. he rolled his eyes at you.

iwaizumi couldn’t help but ruffle his hair in irritation. he knew you had good intentions. you always did. but all he could think about right now is his stress and overthinking. all rational thoughts left the room by this point.

“bottling up is better than to talk with someone like you.” he didn’t mean that. or, that’s what you want to think.

“what’s that supposed to mean…?” your voice dropped. iwaizumi turned to face you.

“i mean, come on. you always want to know what’s going on with my life. you never let me breathe. i can think for myself. i don’t need you butting in with your irrelevant opinions. you keep talking as if your opinions matter to me.” his words came tumbling down, he couldn’t control it.

your eyes widened, something iwaizumi didn’t notice once more. too caught up in his rage to notice how you took in his words.

you never let me breathe.

you keep talking as if your opinions matter to me.

you nodded, keeping your emotions in check. iwaizumi finally stopped with his rambling.

“i understand, haji. i should go.” iwaizumi knew he should stop you, but he didn’t.

later that night, you received almost a ten page essay’s length of explanation and apologies. despite reading it and replying that it was okay, you couldn’t help but feel the hollowness in your chest as his words kept replaying in your head.

by the next few days, iwaizumi acted as if nothing happened and you did the same. your boyfriend, however, noticed that there was something off. he thought of it as the aftermath of the small outburst he accidentally let out on you.

it was by the second week that he noticed that you stopped arguing with him in terms of his choices, letting him wear that god-awful plaid pants oikawa bought him so they can match, letting him choose the movie even though he knew you didn’t like it.

the last straw was during your movie night. when he asked you if you wanted to eat chicken or pizza. he knew that it would trigger a response from you since you’ve always fought him in favor of chicken. it was a weird quarrel over the two of you that became a routine. so, when you gave him a shrug in response, he finally couldn’t let that go.

“what’s up with you?” iwaizumi asked as you were scrolling through your phone, staying unbothered. the time you spent on just agreeing with him made you used to just not giving his words a second thought and letting him lead the relationship. sure, you missed your old conversations but whenever you want to fight back, those words just keep circulating in your mind.

you knew it was due from his stress but you couldn’t help but feel like there has always been a root to his outburst.

“what?” you replied, still scrolling on your phone.

“is there something bothering you?” you shook your head, boring your eyes to the same video that looped in your instagram.

iwaizumi took your phone, forcing you to talk to him.

“give it back, haji.” you weren’t thrilled to be starting an argument, or a proper conversation with him.

“not until you tell me what’s wrong.” he said, you sighed and raised your hands in defeat.

“if you say there’s something wrong, then that’s on you. i can’t change what you think.”

“what are you talking about?”

“nothing.” iwaizumi was getting pretty fed up with the attitude you were showing him.

you knew it was petty, but you were too far to go back.

“(y/n)-” “let’s just watch the movie.” “fine.” iwaizumi gave up, sitting beside you.

“what do you want to watch?” he asked, turning to face you.

“you choose.” the television was turned off.

“what is wrong with you. you’ve been acting weird lately. first you stopped hanging around me and then you won’t even respond with your own decisions.” you sighed, not wanting to talk. in fear of accidentally breaking down.

“now you won’t even talk to me. what is wro-”

“god, you tell me i don’t give you room to breathe and my opinions are irrelevant and now you suddenly ask me what’s wrong.” you finally let out, tears pricking your eyes. iwaizumi’s eyes widened at your outburst.

you harshly wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, wanting nothing but to disappear so you don’t have to face him staring at you with confused expressions.

“what do you want from me?” you bitterly laughed. iwaizumi wanted to do something, so he did the first thing he thought of and pulled you to his chest.

you resisted, trying to pry yourself out of his grip. the both of you know that you were no match for iwaizumi’s strength as he pulled you even closer every time you try to move away.

“let me go.” your voice was muffled by his shirt. he held on tighter, wanting to erase those words he said.

“i’m sorry.”

“okay, now let me go.” he obliged a bit, letting you breathe as he pulled away from you slightly.

“i know you don’t want to hear my explanation. and i know you don’t want to hear a sap apology.” iwaizumi started, you nodded. willing yourself to listen to him right now.

he breathed in and out before he took a hold of your hands.

“i’m sorry for saying those words. i should have never said those things. especially when all you wanted to do was help.” you couldn’t help but notice how his voice got softer as he tightly gripped your hands.

“i was really stressed and i had no right taking it out on you. your opinions matter the most to me and you’re my breather whenever it gets hard to breathe.” you couldn’t help but snort at his cheesy words. he heard that sound and smiled a little, knowing you were loosening up and feeling a bit better.

“kind of corny, if you ask me, haji.” you said, he smiled at you before rolling his eyes playfully.

“whatever, loser.”

you leaned closer and pecked his cheek as a sign of acceptance on his apology. you knew that he was genuine. knowing that hajime has a hard time showing his feelings.

he smiled before turning on the television once more.

“okay, time to watch godzilla.” “no, we’re watching (fave show)-”

ah yes, this is how it should be.

akaashi:

nothing went right in practice. bokuto was far more uncooperative, his rotation team kept missing his sets, and the other team kept reading his sets.

akaashi knows that this type of thing happens. there will never be a guarantee that you will win a match in volleyball. he knew that, but he couldn't help but think that it was his fault.

the setter is the one who touches the ball the most. the one who leads the orchestra.

it didn’t help ease akaashi’s nerves that he was on the edge and has been on the edge since the past few practice matches.

“hey, akaashi! lighten up, buddy!” bokuto said, slapping akaashi’s back with force. he nodded, trying not to let his irritation show. he knew that the team is lowkey terrified when akaashi gets irritated. the last thing he wants is to drive tension between him and his team.

the rest of the practice went by smoothly, or in akaashi’s thoughts, in a very mediocre way. that ‘smooth’ is just the nice term for it.

“akaashi!” this was the worst possible timing. he didn’t want to see you. at least, not right now. especially when he’s in a bad mood. “darling, what are you doing here?”

“konoha texted me and said you weren’t feeling okay, that’s what i’m here for!” you smiled as you pulled him into a hug, not minding that he was a bit sweaty before you pulled away to talk to the managers in glee.

akaashi sighed and headed to the showers. he planned to just drop you off in your house and deal with this on his own.

but of course, you wouldn’t let him. he let you hold his hand and drag him around while the both of you were on the way home.

you were happily talking about the newest episode that just released. akaashi was mindlessly listening, he wasn’t ignoring you but he didn’t want to deal with you as of the moment.

“right, so anyway. then an unexpected twist came like it was so unexpected! i did have my suspicions though! so, it’s all good.” akaashi was getting distracted by his thoughts, not giving you a reply instead of a mindless nod.

“akaashi!” you said loudly, startling the stressed setter.

“will you shut up?” akaashi couldn’t bite back his tongue fast enough as those words tumbled out of his mouth.

you stilled, not knowing how to respond to the outburst. you did feel like you were talking a bit too much, but you didn’t know it was bothering akaashi.

“sorry.” after that, the walk home was tense. none of you knew what to say to each other.

it was when the both of you were at the doorstep when akaashi pulled you into a hug and muttered an apology while his face was buried in your hair. you nodded and pulled away before giving him a smile and pecking his cheek before you went inside.

you knew you were overreacting but his words kind of hurt. you thought back to the endless rambles that you let out on your boyfriend before slapping a palm on your forehead.

you idiot. of course he wouldn’t understand. no wonder he told you to shut up.

with a sigh, you went to your room and tried to ignore his words.

akaashi was the definition of silent but deadly. he knew that his words stung. that’s why he refrained from biting you with his words. but he wasn’t able to stop himself due to the stress of his training.

you figured that he’s finally gotten tired of your rambling about any topic that comes into your mind so you forced yourself to stay quiet.

your boyfriend, almost immediately noticed. he was a powerhouse’s starting setter. he’s supposed to be perceptive in regards to his surroundings.

so, when he noticed that you weren’t having your daily rambles the day after a new episode was released, he knew that you took his words into heart.

“how was the episode last night?” akaashi asked. you were lying down on the floor while you were scrolling down your phone, checking the latest fan theories that were produced due to last night's episode.

your head perked up, ready to rant about how beautifully executed the plot twist was before you remembered who you were talking to.

it was great! the animators brought justice to the manga panel that i was waiting to get animated! then the sound effects were just woah.

there were a lot of things you wanted to say, but you settled and smiled. “it was good.”

“ah, really?” akaashi asked, wanting you to delve into the topic better. you, on the other hand, said nothing and went back to fawning over how your co-fans connect the dots into the most ridiculous yet intriguing theories.

akaashi couldn’t help but see how your eyes shined as you smiled, rereading a certain fanfic with your favorite character on it. you slapped a hand over your mouth as you tried to stop yourself from squealing.

“what are you reading?” by this point, he knew how pathetic he sounds. akaashi was too caught up with his thoughts before that he later on realized that you were his greatest distraction from his self-loathing thoughts.

your voice filled up his ears, going straight to his mind and letting him feel the serotonin that you radiated as you ranted about your favorite series.

but now, it looked as if he was begging for your attention. you looked indifferent to akaashi’s attempt at a conversation, it was petty and you knew that.

“nothing, just a work my friend sent to me.” you said, trying to focus on the words of the selection. akaashi looked down and you thought he gave up. before you knew it, you were on his lap with his arms tight around your waist.

“akaa-”

“read to me, please?” he said, you stayed quiet. he tightened his arms around your waist, placing his forehead on your nape.

“please?” you slowly nodded your head and switched to an online book that akaashi recommended to you. you started off softly, not wanting to piss the setter off just like how you unknowingly did last time.

you finished reading a chapter before you told akaashi to let you go.

“i’m sorry, darling.” you smiled, knowing that he knew why you were quiet. he took a hold of your hand and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb in soothing circular motions.

“i was stressed and my overthinking got the better of me. i didn’t mean to tell you to shut up. quite frankly, i miss your voice. i miss how you talk my ear off with your fictional crushes even though we both know i’m better-” you smacked his arm then laughed. he gave you a smile before continuing. “and i miss how your voice occupies my mind whenever i’m in too deep. i apologize for making you insecure.”

your heart fluttered at his words, akaashi has always been quite straightforward. so, with a smile, you pecked his cheek and nuzzled closer to him.

“i’m sorry for not noticing you weren’t in the mood.” your voice was muffled by his chest, you felt him shake his head and pull you against him tighter.

“nonsense, my darling. that's still not an excuse for me to do that to you. now, how about we watch the new episode last night? i didn’t get to watch it.” akaashi knew that you were excited as you nodded and pulled away, your eyes were shining in excitement as akaashi turned his laptop on and searched for the site.

the episode started, akaashi was asking questions to which you responded with enthusiasm making akaashi smile at your mood.

this was what he almost ruined, and he couldn’t dislike himself more. but when you cuddled closer to his side and intertwined your fingers together while keeping your eyes on the series and narrating the scenes he didn’t get. he vowed to never be the reason for your eyes to lose your shine.

after the episode, the two of you cuddled and just admired each other before one of you drifted to sleep, your grip on each other still tight as you succumbed into slumber.

[iamchll]

fr 😬

not even fanfics helping everything is smut nowadays like DAMN IM NOT IN THE DAMN MOOD

[iamchll]

💋

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.

[iamchll]

AHHH IT'S HERE, IT'S HEREEE!!!!!

Kate mini version

Sharma!sis x Queen Charlotte's son

Summary: After the ball, everyone knows what happened between Y/n and Prince Charles. With the attention of high society members and the Queen, they face new obstacles as they fall in love.

part 1 part 2 part 3

Dearest reader,

The tone is abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it's my honor to impart to you.

Miss Y/n Sharma came to England after Kate Sharma's marriage to Viscount Bridgerton. In such a short time she managed to do something that no one else has managed to do: capture the attention of Queen Charlotte's youngest son, Prince Charles.

Dearest reader, this author finds herself compelled to share the most curious of news. It seems the two seemed to be quite close during the last dance, having danced together until Y/n walked away. But Prince Charles didn't take his eyes off the young woman for the rest of the night. Is a new romance brewing? Let's not forget that at the beginning of the season, her Majesty made her intentions clear of joining her youngest son with the princess of Austria.

In addition, Miss Y/n is here at her mother's request, living with her older sister, Kate Bridgerton, and her husband, Lord Bridgerton. Is it permanent or will she return to India? There are many mysteries yet to be unraveled.

On the other hand, the diamond of the season did not dance with any suitor, which may have made her Majesty uneasy. This author is left to wonder what shall her next move be, now that everything seems to be connected to the Bridgerton family.

Yours truly, Lady Whistledown

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"This is not good." Y/n muttered nervously, looking over Kate's shoulder to read the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. And to his greatest horror, she was the main topic. "How many people read this?"

"Too many." the older sister sighed, before placing the paper next to her and turning to Y/n who had her eyes increasingly wide. "Everything's fine. Most of the family has already suffered from Lady Whistledown's words and we support each other. And everything ended up being fine, the ton has short memory and will forget all about this by the next scandal."

"But what if they don't forget?"

"If they don't forget what?" a new voice intruded into the conversation.

Y/n let out a small scream, immediately recognizing Anthony's voice, and hurried to hide the paper behind her back. "Nothing. It's a beautiful day, I'm going to the gardens. Maybe hide there all day. Or all year."

"Y/n, no. You have to tell Anthony, he won't blame you for anything."

Bridgerton's eyebrows rose upon hearing that, turning to Y/n with a frown upon noticing her terrified expression. "What happened?"

"My apologies, Anthony. The last thing I wanted to do was associate the name Bridgerton with scandals. Lady Whistledown wrote about last night. About… About Prince Charles and I." She looked down, not wanting to see Anthony's disapproving look, and handed him the paper.

The minutes dragged on. To Y/n it felt like hours had passed. Long hours with just the silence in the room. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she tried to control the tears from reaching her eyes. Her head was running with different questions that only made her anxiety worse. Would they send her back to India so they wouldn't suffer any more from this scandal? She didn't know that dancing with someone could cause so many problems.

Just the thought of returning to her homeland, despite having loved growing up there, brought her great sadness. Her life was in England now. She adored her sister's family, having grown up close to many of them, especially Francesca and Hyacinth. And the truth is that she had enjoyed meeting Prince Charles. Y/n finally felt like she belonged somewhere.

She snapped out of these thoughts when she heard Anthony sigh. What was that? Disappointment? Anger? Sadness?

"Look at me." he said, but Y/n refused, knowing that as soon as she looked at the couple she would burst into tears. She shook her head, pursing her lips. "Y/n…"

"Please don't send me back to India."

"What?" the Viscount questioned in shock, almost not having noticed her from how quietly she spoke. He felt Kate hold his hand, looking sadly at her sister. "Y/n, look at us. We are not going to send you back to India."

"Really?" She raised her head shyly, her eyes red from holding back tears.

"Of course. You're part of the family. I haven't told you yet, but Mama sent a letter. Edwina had problems during the birth, so she's going to stay there until at least the rest of the year. You're going to stay with us. Here."

"Y/n, we would never send you away because of Lady Whistledown's news. You're a Bridgerton now." Anthony assured, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her smile upon hearing those words, although still small, released some of the stress that Anthony and Kate were feeling.

"Hey, Anthony, I was wondering— Oh, sorry!" Hyacinth entered the room, stopping when she saw the three of them and the tense atmosphere it was in. Then he noticed the sad face and the paper his brother was holding. "Is that from Lady Whistledown? What does it say?"

"It doesn't matter what it says. What did you want to tell me, Hyacinth?"

"Oh, I was wondering if we could go horse riding. I am so bored, Gregory is training and Benedict isn't paying attention to me." she pouted, causing Y/n to giggle and rush over to Hyacinth, intertwining their arms.

"Fear no more, I shall give you attention."

"Thank you, kind lady." Hyacinth laughed. "Please, Anthony, take us horse riding."

When he offered to teach Y/n how to ride a horse, the rest of his sisters were also invited, since the men already knew how to do it. As expected, only Hyacinth accepted with great enthusiasm while Eloise preferred to read and spend her time with her new friend, Miss Cressida. For her part, Francesca was never much for outdoor sports and Daphne was obviously busy with her husband and son. Thus, Y/n and the youngest Bridgerton both formed a special friendship, and were now a feared duo in the Bridgerton house.

"What do you say?" he whispered in his wife's ear, looking at the two girls who were giving them the best puppy dog ​​eyes. "I'm afraid I can't say no to them."

"I think it's a great idea." Kate smiled.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The four then ventured into the forest. Anthony and Kate were ahead, lost in their own world while Hyacinth and Y/n followed a little behind. The younger girl curiously questioned Sharma about the night of the ball, upset that she was still too young to attend one.

"I wish I had gone yesterday. Did you dance with someone yesterday? I tried to ask Francesca the same thing, but she wouldn't leave her room."

"Unexpected things happened. Francesca is just a little discouraged. As diamond of the season, she has a lot of pressure on her. And I… Well, I danced with someone."

"Prince Charles?! I saw you both when we went for a picnic, I think it was love at first sight." Hyacinth giggled.

"Sometimes I forget how good an observer you are. Yes, I danced with him." Before her friend could get too excited, Y/n hurried to add. "And I was naive, because although I enjoyed being with him, he has an enormous responsibility. I doubt people would want him to spend his time with me."

"Please, I think you are in love."

"What? Of course not, I barely know him. We just had fun dancing, but that must be over by now. I doubt her Majesty will let him dance with me again. Lady Whistledown made sure of that."

"If you say so. I, on the other hand, do not agree. Prince Charles has shown that he is interested in you. Or he would have danced with other girls after you. But he didn't."

"Well, maybe he was tired." Y/n shrugged, while Hyacinth rolled her eyes. They continued the walk in silence, enjoying the forest landscape.

“Girls, let’s do a race!” Anthony shouted, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. Y/n chuckled, knowing he had never met a family as competitive as the Bridgertons. But she was one now too, and she loved winning.

“Very well. But make sure you don’t get too sad when I win.” Hyacinth teased, despite being the one with the least experience riding a horse.

“We’ll see.” Kate joined the teasing.

The four positioned themselves next to each other, letting the man count down. Y/n grabbed the reins tighter, and as soon as Anthony finished, she let her horse run. For a moment they were all balanced, but Hyacinth quickly fell behind. The couple competed a little ahead, trying to reach a certain narrower entrance. So, with their attention diverted from her, she took the opportunity to step over a fallen tree trunk, arriving earlier at that entrance, continuing at the same pace.

She felt free on a horse. The wind hit their face, the landscape blurred from how fast they were going. Y/n petted the animal, feeling like they could conquer the world.

When she realized that the others had already stopped, as no one had yet reached her, she also slowed down so she could wait for them to catch up. They probably had to go back to help Hyacinth control her horse.

“That was impressive.” she heard behind her.

Although she felt a second of fear, thinking that an unknown man had found her alone in the middle of the forest, she quickly associated it with the voice of the person she least wanted to see at that moment. As such, she just closed her eyes and hoped it was just her imagination. But when he cleared his throat, she knew she had to face him. Finally, she commanded the horse to turn around, finding herself face to face with Prince Charles, who was also on top of a beautiful black horse.

“Prince Charles, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” she smiled shyly.

“You as well, Miss Y/N. I didn’t know you were so talented at riding. Did Lady Bridgerton teach you?”

“She and Viscount Bridgerton. And since then I haven’t wanted anything else.” she shrugged uncomfortably, both not knowing what to say. In this way, Y/n focused on the horse that the prince was riding, being shocked by its size. “Beautiful.” She looked at Charles, noticing his look of surprise and a slight blush appearing on his cheeks. “I mean, the horse— The horse is beautiful.”

“Of course.” he looked away, clearing his throat. “It seems we both had the same idea after the paper published by Lady Whistledown. A nice walk was exactly what I needed to get away from my mother.”

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to interfere with your marriage with the Princess of Austria.”

“Her Majesty wants me to marry her. But I don't. You see, a beautiful, fierce, remarkable girl has already caught my attention. It may seem sudden, but she is constantly in my thoughts.” he looked intensely into her eyes. Out of nowhere, it seemed like it had become much hotter, her breathing coming in muffled.

“Oh… I—”

“Y/n! Where are you?” Kate's voice was heard through the forest, breaking the atmosphere that had formed between them.

“I’m here, Kate.” Y/n replied, closing her eyes in despair when she realized that she would have a lot to explain once they arrived.

She had already taken a risk with Lady Whistledown, and now they were alone in an isolated place… It's a good thing no one outside the family would see them, or the scandal would have become much more serious. A feeling of guilt coursed through her body again. She had promised Anthony that she didn't want to associate the Bridgerton name with scandals, and here she was doing exactly the opposite.

“Prince Charles, we can’t talk anymore. It’s not right.” she said before the others appeared.

“Why not? Because of Lady Whistledown? Ignore her, the ton will quickly forget about this.”

“You don’t know that!” Y/n exclaimed exasperated at how calm Charles seemed to be about this situation.

“I know that I want to be with you.”

“You are crazy!” she put her hand over her mouth when she realized that she had “insulted” a member of the royal family. “Apologies, Prince Charles. I didn’t mean that.”

“Call me Charles.”

“I take back my apologies.”

“Finally, we found you, Y/N. We had to go back because Hyacinth’s horse refused to move.” Kate appeared, followed by the others, stopping when she saw what was happening. She made a small bow, looking at them suspiciously. “Prince Charles, I didn’t expect to see you here. Especially with my sister.”

“What do you think you are doing?” Anthony wasn't as friendly as his wife, narrowing his eyes and approaching Y/n to stand slightly in front of her.

“Lord Bridgerton, I guarantee nothing happened. I was simply, like you, taking a walk when I saw Miss Y/n. We only talk about what Lady Whistledown wrote.” Charles assured, sending a comforting smile to Y/n, who was watching the two nervously.

“It was mere chance that we found each other. We can go back to the house now.”

Anthony signaled to Kate, who nodded. They had mastered the art of speaking with just their eyes, it still left Y/n quite confused when they did that. But this time, she understood perfectly. Lowering her head slightly, she followed her sister and Hyacinth home, while Anthony and Charles remained behind. Over her shoulder, she mumbled a quick apology to the boy, hoping he would understand what she meant.

When the women were out of sight, Anthony turned to the Prince , who appeared unaffected. “I hope you’re not trying to ruin my wife’s sister’s reputation. You know very well what the ton would say if they found you in this situation. And I guarantee you, you don’t want to duel me.”

“I agree. That's the last thing I desire. Miss Y/n would certainly never speak to me again. And I don't want that. Lord Bridgerton, we were just talking, and on horses for more. But, for all the respect I have for Miss Y/n and the Bridgerton family, I assure you this will never happen again.”

"It better not."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After a tense conversation with Kate and Anthony, they believed Y/n when she said it was a coincidence to meet Prince Charles, but that she understood the gravity of being alone with a man.

So, she spent a few days locked up at home, hoping that the scandal had already been forgotten. However, this isolation couldn't last forever, so she was forced to join the Bridgerton family on a walk by the lake.

She had her arm linked with Benedict's, Eloise beside her, while they listened to Collin's travel stories. He had seen so much, experienced so many new cultures, that Y/n just wanted to know more. Eloise, in turn, seemed envious that only men could have the pleasure of traveling alone wherever they wanted, and Benedict asked about the art of each country, something that Y/n barely understood.

However, Collin ended up rushing the end of the story, seeing a group of girls walking, giggling when they saw him. Eloise groaned in disgust, while Benedict shook his head, changing direction so he wouldn't have to watch his brother flirt. Y/n also went with them, not wanting to see that scene.

But she noticed that they had been stopped by Lady Wilson, whose daughter was participating in the season along with Y/n, Francesca, and Eloise. "Good afternoon, Lady Wilson."

"Good afternoon." she said. "I noticed you didn't go to the ball yesterday. I haven't yet had a chance to talk with Lady Bridgerton to know if everything is alright."

"Thank you for your concern." Benedict said sarcastically, taking control since Anthony wasn't around. "We had other matters to attend, but I assure you that we will be present at the ball tomorrow."

"That's wonderful news." the woman said with a fake smile. "In that case you will be able to see my daughter dancing with Prince Charles, just like yesterday. They form a beautiful couple, don't you think?"

Y/n had to control herself not to roll her eyes. It was clear what Lady Wilson was trying to do, but there would be no reaction from her. Eloise and Benedict looked at her from the corner of their eyes, waiting to know if Y/n needed them to interrupt the conversation.

"I don't know. I didn't see them together nor did I have the opportunity to know about it since Lady Whistledown didn't write about them. And we all know that she writes about everything that happens, and it seems especially important if the prince is interested in someone to court. Looks like we'll have to wait and see."

"Yes, we shall wait." Lady Wilson clenched her jaw. "I'm certain that the prince loved to dance with my daughter."

"If you say so. Please excuse us, we shall return to the rest of our family." Y/n said dryly, hurrying to walk in the opposite direction with the two Bridgertons behind her.

"Jealous, dear sister?" Benedict asked with a sly smile once they were far enough away from the woman.

"No. Why would I be?" Y/n pretended not to be bothered, but in reality the thought of Charles dancing with someone else didn't sit very well with her. But what could she be expecting, she had said that they shouldn't talk anymore and he had to get married this season. "I'm just surprised that Lady Wilson is so confident in her daughter with the prince when the Queen wants him with the princess of Austria."

"Hmm." was the only response she received from Benedict. Eloise, already fed up with just hearing about the season, changed the subject and Y/n was also grateful for that. The last thing she wanted was to think about the next ball.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"What are you going to do?" Hyacinth asked as she helped Y/n and Francesca get ready for ball. The two had already put on their dresses and now all that was left was the jewelry. Kate had already come to say that they would have to leave soon, smiling calmly when she noticed the nervous state of her sister who had changed her dress about five times already.

“About what?”

“About the prince, obviously.”

“I don’t know. I am a little confused. This is all happening so quickly. And the fact that Lady Whistledown wrote about us didn't help. But the truth is that when I'm with him, I don't know, I feel different.” Y/n tried to explain, but realized she couldn't describe her feelings in words. It was something foreign to her, but not unwanted.

“I know what it is. You like him.” the Bridgerton dropped onto the bed dramatically.

“But liking may not be enough. Don't forget that the Queen has a lot of influence on these things. And I wouldn’t want to piss her off, it would only hurt all of you.”

"You are exaggerating. Francesca, what do you think of this?”

“What?” the girl snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her name. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What are you thinking about?” Y/n sat next to her, taking her hand.

“I haven't had almost any suitors yet. And the ones I have seem incapable of having a conversation. What if I don’t find anyone?” Francesca revealed with a sigh, her voice tinged with sadness.

“Nonsense. Everyone would love to dance with you. In fact, I have a feeling you are going to meet someone today.” the Sharma said. “And for that to happen, we must leave and go to this ball. If you need to, we can stay together all night.”

“Thank you, but it won’t be necessary. I want you to have your chance with the prince.”

“After all, you were listening!” Hyacinth exclaimed, groaning as the two left the room and left her there. Now she had to wait until tomorrow to find out everything that was going to happen!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The ball was already full of people, from nervous mothers to innocent daughters who giggled when a suitor asked them to dance. Y/n and Francesca walked in together, both of them taking deep breaths and looking at each other in encouragement. They could do this.

While Francesca's nerves increased as she saw the Queen's eyes fall on her, Y/n's heart began to beat faster when she noticed Charles, who was standing next to his mother. However, he was not alone, finding himself in conversation with the princess of Austria. From what the Sharma could understand from the few moments in which she let herself focus on them, they seemed to be getting along well, sharing polite smiles.

"Maybe we shall get a refreshment first?" Y/n said, seeing that the family had already dispersed.

"A great idea." Francesca swallowed, nodding several times.

The two hurried to a corner of the room, sending a quick smile to the people passing by. Fortunately, no one engaged them in a long conversation, allowing them to mentally prepare themselves to face that night.

They stopped next to Penelope, who looked at the dancing couples with a sad look. "Are you alright, Penelope?"

"Yes, of course, Francesca." the redhead replied shyly, offering a small smile to the two girls. "You ought to take the floor."

"Ought we?" the Bridgerton chuckled humorlessly.

"Once one finds oneself on the wall, it is difficult to come off it. No matter what one does." Penelope looked down, pursing her lips.

"Better to be on the wall than to make fools of ourselves." Y/n she murmured, discreetly looking at the boy who had invaded her heart, still talking to the beautiful princess. Only this time, almost feeling her gaze on him, he glanced at her, showing what appeared to be a genuine smile. "This is so confusing."

"I agree. At least the wall doesn't ask me about what makes me tick." Francesca complained, still upset about the failed conversations from the last ball. The older girl looked at her understandingly, noticing that Francesca was more reserved. Maybe that was what made her rare, different from all the other girls.

"And why are you on the wall, Penelope? I'm sure there are lots of gentlemen here who would be more than willing to ask for your hand in a dance!"

"Oh no. Nobody wants to dance with me. Believe me." she replied with a slight blush, embarrassed that she didn't have any suitors when this wasn't her first season, unlike them.

"They must be blind, then. You are beautiful." Y/n confessed honestly, really confused that they let such an incredible person like Penelope escape. If she could, she would drag the redhead and Francesca to dance, but she knew it was against the rules.

The three fell into a silence, not uncomfortable, but as if they all had more to think about than trying to carry on a conversation. From the other side of the room, Charles watched Sharma as if in a trance, quickly leaving the conversation he was having to go to meet her.

However, he was interrupted by Charlotte who discreetly held his arm. "What are you doing? Must I remind you that you shall marry this season?"

"Why are you putting so much pressure on me with this. You have so many other children, but I'm the only one who has to suffer with this."

"Your siblings reproducing bastards for me to ignore. You are my last hope, son. I have made sure to give so many heirs to your father, and none of my children seem to be fornicating." she said. When she noticed that she was being too harsh with her youngest son, she sighed. "Bridgerton, Charles?"

"What seems to be the problem? You've already accepted many of their marriages, including naming two Bridgertons as diamonds of the season and ignoring the scandal between Lord Bridgerton and Lady Bridgerton." Charles controlled himself not to roll his eyes.

"Yes… But that was until my son was mentioned in the paper of Lady Whistledown because he was just interested in a girl. Especially when the princess of Austria traveled here just to meet you."

"And I enjoyed meeting her. But I enjoyed much more meeting Y/n Sharma." he admitted, his voice conveying the confidence he felt in those words. "She's the one I want. The one I'll follow to the end of the world if necessary. Don't make me marry someone else, mom, I want her. Just her."

"I believe the boy is in love." Lady Dandbury appeared beside them, looking at the boy with knowing eyes. Charlotte glanced at her from the corner of her eye. "The dance they shared was remarkable. The London Season is already terribly monotonous as it is. Therefore, these cases of passion make it more enjoyable. Don't you agree?"

"Indeed, Lady Danbury." Charles nodded, appreciating her help in convincing the Queen. "May I go now?"

Charlotte watched him for a few moments, noticing how he was restless, his body tilted towards Y/n. Almost as if he had no control over himself, unconsciously wanting to always be close to her. This wait was killing him.

The woman didn't respond verbally, just offered a small nod of permission, and her son was gone in the blink of an eye.

Almost running, the prince arrived next to Y/n, who continued to watch people dancing. She was now only with Penelope, as Francesca was taken by Violet to meet some suitors. Charles approached silently, placing himself in her line of sight and simply offering her a hand.

"What are you doing?" she whispered with wide eyes. Beside her, Penelope excused herself, giving the couple space. Not that they paid much attention, appearing not to have even heard her.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm asking you to dance with me."

"You don't give up, do you?" Y/n let a small smile appear, pretending to be upset by the boy's persistence. Inwardly, her heart was beating furiously fast. She didn't want to dance. She wanted to get away from there so she could be with Charles alone, the two of them talking all night.

But their moment was interrupted by Lady Wilson's daughter, who suddenly appeared and grabbed the prince's arm. "Prince Charles, you promised me a dance. Shall we?"

Y/n took a step back, trying to hide her sadness. Charles hadn't even removed her arm from his. This was a reminder that Charles was not yet hers, and with her indecision, that was becoming increasingly difficult. He had so many good options for marriage, why would he choose her? What made her special from all the others?

Trying to make sure no one saw the tears that threatened to appear, the Sharma decided it was best to leave for the rest of the night. Perhaps Anthony and Kate would believe she was feeling unwell and needed to go home.

But before he could move away completely, Charles snapped out of his shock, grabbing Y/n's hand to pull her closer while shaking the other woman's hold.

He clenched his jaw, upset at not being able to have a single moment of peace with Y/n. "My apologies, Miss." Y/n had to put her hand over her mouth to hide her amusement when Charles didn't remember the girl's name. "Right now, I would like to dance with Miss Y/n. So if you will excuse us."

"But—"

"What do you say, Miss Y/n. Shall you give me the pleasure of having this dance?" Charles asked quickly before the annoying girl spoke again. His attention was on Sharma, who was looking at him adoringly. Was this what people felt when they were in love? It felt like he couldn't breathe. In a good way.

"We shall… Charles." she laughed. Charles' mouth opened in shock, appearing to have frozen to the ground. In a playful way, she rolled her eyes, guiding him to the dance floor, which was now empty as people saw the two walk there.

Despite the nerves she felt, Y/n felt good with Charles, so she decided to ignore ton's opinions on this. The boy bowed as he offered her his hand, followed by a bow from Y/n, and immediately the music began.

"You called me Charles."

"A very good observation."

"You know, I thought Lord Bridgerton would kill me the moment I looked at you. It would be worth it." he twirled her around, loving it when he heard her little giggles. When she landed on the ground, her eyes found Kate and Anthony watching them, but instead of upset, they looked happy that Y/n was happy. "I must say that when you said we couldn't meet again, it hurt."

"My deepest apologies. How could I have said such absurd things?" Y/n said dramatically, noticing Charles' amusement.

"All is well now. As long as you promise to not run anymore. Even if Lady Whistledown or someone else writes about us. I promise I won't let anything hurt you or your family."

Y/n focused on his eyes. They were honest and had a glow of adoration about them. "What about the Princess of Austria?"

"As I also told her Majesty, I have no interest in her. My heart already belongs to you, Y/n. No one else can take your place."

The music was slowing down, indicating that it would end soon. The boy gripped Y/n's waist tighter, fearing that he would have to let go when he was enjoying savoring every moment of their closeness.

"My heart belongs to you too, Charles." she scrunched her eyebrows and Charles could feel his heart close to bursting. He wanted to marry her.

Instead, he controlled himself from saying it right away, knowing that he would have to talk to Anthony first and ask for Y/n's hand in marriage. Or he feared the Bridgerton wrath. For now, having Y/n in his arms was enough.

[iamchll]

I NEED TO BITE HIS NECK 😵‍💫

[iamchll]

he’s so pretty 💕💕

[iamchll]

mirror selfies make me wanna tear his clothes right off and fuck him senseless

[iamchll]

🫶🛐🥵😵‍💫

no but his side profile is so fucking attractive nobody can change my mind

[iamchll]

🤤🥵😵‍💫

girl dinner

[iamchll]

iloveyouuu 🫶

is there a possibility for you to make a dating hanma shuji moodboard? thank u and hope u have a good day/night!!

Dating Hanma Shuji <3

=͟͟͞͞ ⌧ : ofc!!! hopefully this is okay! 💕

[iamchll]

aw iloveyou so much my baby zoro, my marimo, my four clover leaf, my lovey 💚💚💚💚

from me to you ft. roronoa zoro!

set-up: anon asked me to write angst :) 32 year zoro had lost you two years ago. but when he finds himself back in time, face to face with a 22 year old and and alive you, what will he do?

warnings: none, just some good ole angst; not proofread at all :/

"how did you get that scar then?" chopper asked, tracing another deep scar on the older man's shoulder.

"i was fighting a warlord." the older zoro shrugged, finding comfort in the way the young reindeer marvelled at his story.

"did you win then?" ussop asked next.

the younger version of the swordsman cut in, "ofcourse he did. he's me."

"not to credit you," the older version bickered, "but yes ofcourse, i did win."

"what do you mean 'not to credit you'. i am the reason you even got to that point-"

"yes but you didn't fight the warlord, i did."

"I AM YOU-"

"oh my god, stop bickering with yourself" nami groaned, "when will the rest be back? im growing so tired of looking after you children."

"i am a decade older than you." the older swordsman answered back.

the rest of the crew was out exploring the port town where the sunny was docked. it was about to be sun-down and the two zoros, nami, ussop and chopper waited for the others to return back.

hours passed and the older man had found himself walking around the ship, reminiscing in the old times. somehow, for someone as much of a shitty memory as him, he could recall every stain, every dent. he could recall every place ussop fucked up or luffy damaged or you-

you. you. you.

and now he could hear footsteps on the deck. more importantly, he could hear you. so, his feet moved to their own accord. he navigated through the ship easily, muscle memory taking ahold of his body. taking him to the deck, taking him to you.

the older swordsman stepped out onto the happening deck and there you were.

you - along with the rest of the crew - turned your attention to the green-haired man that had materialized on the deck. and then, the entire crew erupted into chaos. the younger version of luffy comically looked from one zoro to another, sanji stood with his mouth wide apart and robin looked slightly alarmed.

but none of that mattered.

none of them were you.

the twenty-two year old version of you was looking at the older man, mildly amused. you giggled and then poked nami, saying something along the lines of "he looks like a dilf" or something. but the older man didn't care, or more so he couldn't.

it was night yet he could point out every wayward freckle across your cheek. you shivered and he held back from giving you his kimono. you walked over to his younger version and that green-haired boy pressed a kiss to your forehead the same way he wanted to.

you were there.

in flesh and blood, you were there.

and maybe that's why he turned his back on you and walked into that old cabin of his. maybe that's why he locked the door and slumped against the wood with a heavy sigh. maybe that's why he covered his eyes with his palm and tried to blink the tears away.

you were gone. you had been, for the past two years. and he had learnt to live with that absence. learnt to swallow down any memories of you that came creeping up like bile. learnt to only smile in his dreams when he saw you again.

shouldn't he be happy he saw you again? shouldn't he be glad you smiled at him again? he should be, right?

then why wasn't he? why did it hurt him more to see you laughing that it did when he saw your cold corpse?

"uhm-" your voice called from outside, unsure, "zo- zoro? are you in there?"

he pressed his palm flatter against his eyes and sighed, "i'll be out in a minute, please wait"

"are you okay?" you asked softly and when he didn't reply, you asked again, "can i come in?"

wordlessly, he turned around and opened the door. and wordlessly, you crashed against him, hugging the older man.

letting go of whatever restraints he had, he held you against him tightly. he closed his eyes, relishing in the way your warmth felt against him, the way your cheek was resting against his chest, the way your tresses tickled his skin.

"you looked like you could use a hug." you mumbled against him, "it must be insane, to go through this time travel thing right?"

but the older man just pursed his lips tighter, trying to hold onto the love of his life as long as he could. he tried to fight off the welling tears as you let go of him and looked up at him.

"you smell nice. looks like you're actualy showering huh?" you laughed, "and i can't believe you got even more tall. i look like a child in front of you!"

zoro smiled despite himself, "hate to break it to ya, but you stay this size your entire life."

"what?! no!" you laughed again in disbelief, "really??"

he just nodded and you hit his chest playfully. then you said, "well i have so many questions for you. should i ask? please please pl-"

"anything for you." he replied mindlessly.

"look at you, such a romantic. your younger version could learn a thing or two." you paused, "my future version must be really happy with you, huh- wait, we're still together right?"

zoro was silenced. then, he put on a smile, "yeah, we are. and i guess she's pretty happy."

"are you?"

it was a simple question and yet, zoro felt like his being was set ablaze by just those two words. though his mouth felt like it was full of tar, he managed to say, "yeah, more or less"

you cocked an eyebrow, "you know you're a terrible liar."

"i-" he gave you a tired smile, "things have just been hard for the past few years, that's all."

"oh," you gave him a nudge, "but as long you've got me, things will be okay, yeah?"

he scoffed, as if rejecting your suggestion. you met the older man's gaze with confusion, as if asking him if you said something wrong.

his eyes softened, voice barely audible. he asked you, "and what if i lost you?"

"dumbass, you can never lose me. i'm with you, always."

"what if?"

"then..." you pondered for a second. finally, you raised your wrist to the green-haired swordsman's eyelevel. the silver charm bracelet shone dimly in the lit room. you shook your wrist and the soft melody of the charms filled the room, "you can keep this, to remember me."

zoro's gaze was transfixed on the charm bracelet, his eye catching each miniscule metallic movement, "you- you lost this bracelet."

"i did?" you tilted your head.

"i mean- in a couple years you will. we had docked on a summer island and you lost it while exploring the town."

you watched the way the man stared at your wrists and you made your decision, "take it."

"but it's your favourite jewelry-"

"well, if i'm gonna lose it anyways-" you took off the bracelet with little trouble, "then i think you should keep it."

you gave him another smile, delicately placing the dainty bracelet in his calloused palm, "maybe you can give it back to my future self when you're back in the present. i am sure she'd like the surprise of having it back."

before zoro could protest, his younger version barged into the cabin. the younger boy hissed at the older man, "give me back my girlfriend, oldy."

the older man didn't ignore the way you laughed. you took languid steps to reach the younger boy and then you melted in his arm as you laughed.

he loved you then, he loved you now. he knows he would love you beyond this.

and that's all that matters.

roronoa zoro, aged 32, had disappeared for three days. he refused to tell anyone where he had gone. but when he returned, he sported a new chain round his neck with old charms. nobody on the crew bought the chain up, they didn't need to.

because for the first time in two years, the swordsman could crack open a smile when he greeted them.

and that's all that mattered.

💗a/n: definitely gonna be posting sanji's part as soon as im done with it! sanji's part

[iamchll]

Being in a secret relationship with the Wind Pillar is a lot more amusing than you thought it would be. Especially since the other pillars think the two of you hate each other's guts. Honestly they'd even go as far to say that Sanemi dislikes you more than he dislikes Giyu. Which is saying a lot. That's probably the most amusing thing about it, the shared laughter once the meetings have ended and the other pillars have gone their separate way. The moments where nobody is watching but you catch the other's gaze, the cheesiness of the wink he'll send you because of it. Coming up with the most absurd insults to yell at each other and then make fun of once you're in the privacy of the other's estate.

"Did you call me a fucking eyebrow-less imbecile?" it was one of the tamer insults but still, for some reason Sanemi found it hysterical. "I couldn't think of anything better, we almost got caught." You huffed, arms crossing over your chest as you walked beside him up the path to his estate. He didn't say anything more but you swore you heard him whisper the insult under his breath, laughing softly. Sanemi finds himself getting softer, his eyes lingering on you just a bit longer regardless of the other pillars being present. His eyes seem to glitter when you're in his presence, a rosy blush almost always on his face. Maybe that's why Mitsuri caught on to the two of you. Something about the way Sanemi's eyes seemed to overflow with adoration when he looked in your direction.

You, of course, struggled to deny her. Your eyes lingering on him from a distance as he conversed with Obanai. The way her soft squeal would reach Sanemi's ears when she realized you looked at him the same way he looked at you. Her suspicions were only encouraged when Sanemi seemed to forget where he was, who he was around. The small smile that graced his lips as he looked at you was too much to not give back, though you couldn't suppress the smile on your face even if you had wanted to. Maybe you were getting softer as well.

[iamchll]

🙄😠->🥰->🥵

Turn of Events

Minors do not interact ❌

Posting this story here as well! Originally posted on my Ao3 account (EuphoricRkive) — I may expand on this story! It’s only a one shot on my Ao3

“With all due respect Master, I refuse to work with l/n” Sanemi was almost at his limit. The meeting had ended a few moments prior, Ubuyashiki asked you and Sanemi to stay behind for a moment. You scoffed at his behavior.

“I graciously accept the opportunity master.” You could practically hear the veins in Sanemi’s forehead popping at that point

You and Sanemi are paired up to go on a mission;)

“Keep making that ugly face Shinazugawa-San and it will get stuck like that. Honestly it may already be.” You stared at the white haired man, not missing the way Mitsuri tried to hold in a laugh. “Keep that annoying ass mouth shut or I’ll slit your throat.”

“Pleasant as always.” You turned to face Mitsuri and Rengoku, it was time for the Hashira meeting with Ubuyashiki. “You’d think he’d mellow out eventually, it must be far more difficult to remain so sour all the time.” You spoke loudly enough for him to hear, despite him turning to chat with Obanai. “It’s Shinazugawa-San we are talking about here y/n-san. I don’t think he’ll ever change.” You chuckled at Mitsuri’s comment, it was true, Sanemi most likely would never change. That is, unless every demon was eradicated .

You wondered what the man would be like if he didn’t hold so much anger in his heart. Even pushing away poor Genya… it’s one of the reasons you had such a strong dislike for the wind pillar. You knew Genya well, having trained him a few separate times for extra help when he got too frustrated even with Gyomei’s lessons.

The chatter amongst the Hashira quieted down when Ubuyashiki entered, you all bowed accordingly and the meeting began.

“With all due respect Master, I refuse to work with l/n” Sanemi was almost at his limit. The meeting had ended a few moments prior, Ubuyashiki asked you and Sanemi to stay behind for a moment. You scoffed at his behavior.

“I graciously accept the opportunity master.” You could practically hear the veins in Sanemi’s forehead popping at that point. “Thank you, my children. Sanemi, I understand your frustrations. However, for the Hashira to work in a perfect Union, you and y/n need to set aside your differences.” You nodded, you and Sanemi didn’t get along well, at all. For the sake of the demon slayer corps, you knew he needed two of the strongest Hashira to be able to work well in a team.

Both you and Sanemi got along great with Gyomei. Which worked well considering he was the strongest member of the corps. While you sat in 3rd with Sanemi ahead in 2nd… you needed to be able to function in battle instead of smart mouthing each other.

Sanemi opened his mouth again to try and deny the request, Ubuyashiki cut him off before he even could. “This is not a matter of yes or no, Sanemi. This is an order.” At that you eyed the white haired man nervously. “I understand master.” With that, you both bowed to him, returning to your sitting positions and listening obediently to his instructions.

They were fairly clear. There was a village to the north, up by the mountains, that was being hounded by a group of demons. Many reports came in of missing women and children and even some young men. Ubuyashiki had sent a small handful of slayers up a week prior — none returned. You were to both depart right after and head for the village. If you moved quick enough, you’d get there shortly after nightfall.

“Shinazugawa-San we must move quickly. Do you have everything you need?” You were pushing aside your dislike, you wanted to make sure you met the expectations Ubuyashiki had for the two of you, whether he cooperated or not. “I’m not some child, shut the fuck up.” Typical.

You rolled your eyes, taking off at a quick speed through the forest. You knew Sanemi wouldn’t be far behind you, if anything he would probably try to pass you once you were both out of sight. After a few hours you both slowed. You were still a good 4-6 hours from the mountain village, but it was only a little before noon, you’d stop and eat at the village you were passing through before continuing on.

“What would you like to eat Shinazugawa-San?” You stared at the white haired man, his purple eyes glaring holes through you. “Drop the fucking act.” You groaned. “I’m not trying to be fucking fake with you asshole. I’m trying to accomplish what Master wants for us. He’s not wrong, you know. Maybe if we just tried and…”

You were cut off by a whistle. You and Sanemi’s heads turned towards the sound. A group of older men were sitting by the entrance of an alleyway. You picked up quickly on the scent of booze. “That’s one beautiful woman you are traveling with.” One of them stumbled towards you two, you grimaced.

“How much for her? I have plenty to offer, such a beautiful woman like that must be such fun in…” his words were cut short. Sanemi had unsheathed his nichirin blade and had the tip pressed straight into the man’s neck. “The fuck you think you are doing? Trying to fucking buy and sell women? Come another foot near her and I’ll kill you.” You were shocked by Sanemi’s actions, your own hand gripping your nichirin blade, however you kept it sheathed by your hip.

“Woah woah woah Buddy, I was just asking…” the drunk man had put his hands up now, taking a few steps back so the blade was no longer pressed into his neck. “Just asking? Get the fuck out of here before I kill you and all your little shit head friends. Don’t even try it asshole.” Sanemi’s attention shifted to one of the other men who had begun to stumble forward a bit. “Try touching her thighs like I heard you practically fucking drooling over when we passed and I’ll cut your fucking dick off.”

That was enough to get the group to disburse, tripping and falling over themselves to get away. You heard Sanemi tsk before sheathing his blade again. “I…t..thank you Shinazugawa-San… I could have handled it…” he rolled his eyes. “Could have handled it? Has this happened before?” His purple eyes were intense, for the first time you found yourself struggling to maintain eye contact. “It’s happened a few times, only once have they ever gotten close enough to touch…”

“Touch? You’re telling me some fucking sick freaks have actually tried and succeeded in touching you?” His words were full of anger, you didn’t understand where this was all coming from. “What does it matter now? Why are you suddenly so protective Shinazugawa-San?”

“Cause that’s fucking sick, tell me you at least fucking took their balls.” You began walking, searching for a place to eat. “I took both his hands, then crushed one of his… ya know. I went easy, I was too shocked he managed to even touch me.” Sanemi smirked at that. “Should have ripped his dick off and fed it to him, fuck going easy on that shit.”

You stumbled across an Udon stand, ordering a bowl for the both of you. You had to fight off a smile, the conversation flowed so easily between the two of you when you weren’t attacking each other. “My treat Shinazugawa-San, for helping me earlier.” The wind pillar glared at you. “Not fair, a woman should never have to pay for her meal.” You choked back a laugh, it was such an unexpected, yet very pleasant surprise that Sanemi truly respected women. From your interactions with him, you honestly feared the worst.

“Then you can treat me to a meal when the mission is done eh? See, this isn’t so hard Shinazugawa-San, getting along isn’t the worst.” He rolled his eyes at that, slurping his udon quietly. “You’re still annoying as fuck, but maybe a little more tolerable than I thought.” That was practically a love confession in your book. “Same to you.”

You laughed to yourself, finishing your udon in silence before bowing to the cart owner and thanking him for such a good meal. You set off at a fast pace yet again, this time you were hoping to reach the village before nightfall, giving you and Sanemi time to look around and get an idea of your layout.

By the time the mountain village came into eyesight, it was early evening. Just enough daylight left to allow for a quick scope of the area. You were both covered in a sheen of sweat, you were already excited to take a soak in the hot springs. “I’ll head into the village and get reports from any possible victims or witnesses. You should check the village edges and see if you can pick up on anything.” Sanemi rolled his eyes, you knew he hated being told what to do, but a small nod followed the eye roll. With that you both took off.

“A sweet smell! Every time it’s near, I smell it. I keep my kids in the house by the time night falls, it waits in the shadows.” The woman you were speaking to seems frantic. You did your best to assure her the issue would be resolved. She seemed skeptical but wished you safety before you left.

The next was an old man sitting next to his fruit stand. “A sweet smell seems to sweep the streets at nightfall. Nothing like I’ve ever smelled before. It’s almost intoxicating. A mist seems to follow it, but maybe that’s just my eyes catching up to my age. Be careful and stay inside when the sun sets.” You bowed to the man, thanking him for the information.

You spoke to a few other residents, all speaking of the same sweet smell and lingering mist that seemed to be persistent with most nights. “L/n-san, there is nothing on the outskirts, but there was a small clearing about half a mile out. It had a few scraps of clothing and lost items. I’m thinking that may be where they take the victims back. Did you get any information?” Sanemi had appeared by your side, strands of white hair sticking to his forehead. For some reason you felt heat rush to your cheeks at the sight.

“I spoke to a handful of residents, all reported the same details. When the sun sets, a sweet smell seems to engulf the village. Few mentioned a mist that seemed to cling to the streets until daybreak. They definitely know something is going on here. I think about 25 people total have gone missing and are considered dead.”

“Some kid told me about the clearing, it seems the group of little shits that are still left…wanted to try and play hero.” You nodded. “We should find an Inn, if we wait any later we will probably be stuck out here for the night. Considering how paranoid they are about this…” Sanemi had already begun pulling out some money, counting it out as he walked “I saw one a few streets over, let’s go.”

You checked into a small inn a few streets over like Sanemi said. Unfortunately they only had one room with one bed left, you didn’t mind. The chances of getting sleep tonight anyway were slim. Really you had gotten it to tend to any wounds. You unpacked the first aid supplies you had brought with you, Sanemi was sitting on the floor sharpening his blade. You set down gauze, an antiseptic thay Shinobu had made along with a few poison antidotes. Hopefully that would be all you needed.

“You can stay here at the inn, I think I can handle this myself.” You froze, head whipping around so quickly you felt your muscles screech in protest. “Pardon me Shinazugawa-San?” The wind pillar looked up at you, never slowing down while sharpening his blade. “I’m joking l/n-San, give me your blade, I’ll sharpen it.”

“I didn’t know a man like you knew how to joke.” You unsheathed your blade and handed it to him, admiring the way the deep red looked in the dimming light. “I’ll send my crow to master, let him know we arrived safe and update him on the situation.”

You watched your crow soar off into the darkening sky, the familiar sense of anxiety filling your soul as you knew a battle was approaching. You were a Hashira after all, but no matter how many times you faced demons, you still got worried. You never underestimate your opponents, you rather overestimate them so you can be prepared for absolutely anything.

“Shinazugawa-San, I think our best bet is going to that clearing the village children told you about. It’s most likely they’ll be there if we don’t lure them out by being in the streets after nightfall.” Sanemi had finished sharpening your blade, handing it over to you before standing up and adjusting his uniform. “Depending on the type of demons, they’ll either be scared shitless by two Hashira, or be eager to greet us.”

You nodded, staring out at the street below. People were boarding up their windows, making sure their children were inside. Some were even luring stray animals in for the night with leftovers. “We should be going, the inn keeper will be boarding up soon.”

You and Sanemi left quickly, the innkeeper wishing you luck and a speedy return, he was aware of the demon slayer corps and would do his best to stay up and let you back in. The sun was fully set at this point, very quickly you picked up on the sweet smell the residents had talked about. “They weren’t wrong, I don’t think I’ve ever smelled something so sweet.” You watched Sanemi’s nose scrunch, he wasn’t wrong, it was almost nauseating.

“My my! Two Hashira sent out just for little ole me?” You both turned around, a normal looking man stood before the two of you. Normal looking… if it wasn’t for the eyes. Two sets of eyes, both completely black. “It was so easy to deceive the previous slayers. They were convinced it was a group of demons, really it was easy to trick them. Never thought I’d have two Hashira sent after me.”

“Wind breathing, seventh form, sudden gusts.” Sanemi’s voice was low and deadly. He made the first move - as always - leaping into the air and swinging his blade in a flurry of movement. Gusts of wind formed, reaching the demon and tearing him apart. Sadly it wouldn’t be that easy, the demon quickly regenerated as if nothing happened.

“Such power! Yet you’ve already underestimated me, wind pillar.” The demon’s face morphed, razor like teeth showing as he smiled. His claws materialized seemingly out of nowhere, you weren’t interested in his whole transformation process, instead moving into action.

“Shadow breathing, 5th form, weave.” You lifted your blade, swinging in a huge arch, you made contact with the demon’s neck, your slice taking it clean off. Instead of giving him time to process, you made another move. “Shadow breathing, 1st form, nightmare.” You pulled back, aiming for his torso, dark clouds admitted from your blade as you sliced through his torso. The key to your breathing technique was darkness and confusion. So long as you could confuse your opponent, your strikes were guaranteed to hit.

Behind you Sanemi moved once more “wind breathing, 4th form, rising dust storm.” Slashes shot towards the demon from above and below, you jumped out of the way to avoid the hits. Your attacks were ripping the demon to shreds, but he kept regenerating with such ease it made your attacks look weak.

You flug yourself backwards, there must be a certain point you had to hit for him to die. Sanemi’s attacks were relentless. You studied his motions, cringing when you saw his blood flying as the demon landed a few attacks. That’s when you saw it, a gust of wind from one of Sanemi’s attacks brought it out.

A necklace with a black pendant hanging from it. To most demon slayers, that wouldn’t mean anything. You, however, picked up on its scent, the sweet smell was coming from it. You had no way of telling Sanemi, so you went in head first. “Shadow breathing, 9th form, necromancy.” You watched as shadows sprang forth through your blade, making contact with the demon and disappearing inside of him.

Sanemi watched the demon freeze, eyes going wide as he realized there was no control over his body anymore. That was the key, your 9th form controlled whoever it entered. You raised your arm, watching the demon mimic it. You grabbed the pendant and ripped it off. Holding it out in front of you, the demon looked horrified by the action.

“Shinazugawa-San! Go for his neck now!”

Sanemi moved in a flash, “wind breathing, 9th form, Idaten Typhoon.” Sanemi back flipped easily into the air, powerful gusts of wind shot down in circular movements, the demon was shredded in seconds. As it’s pieces fell, it disintegrated. “Going all out because I did Shinazugawa-San?” You smirk as he landed, noticing quickly the blood that was seeping out from his arms.

“One to talk, you look as if you are about to faint.” Sanemi was eyeing you up and down now, you did feel shaky on your feet but still alert. “My 9th form takes a lot out of me. I only use it when absolutely necessary.”

“This wasn’t really a mission for two Hashira.” You nodded, heading back towards the inn. You’d need to bandage and clean Sanemi’s wounds, some seemed a bit deep by the way the blood was seeping out. “I agree, I can see why this was difficult for less experienced demon slayers. My breathing technique was an extreme help too. They’d have to get up close enough to take the pendant off of his neck, I was able to use him like a voodoo doll.”

“He really sent us on this mission to get along, didn't he. Now that it’s done we have nowhere to go until tomorrow morning.” You both entered the inn and bowed graciously to the inn keeper for allowing you to stay. “No messes will be made, thank you for letting us stay.” You both disappeared up the stairs and into the room.

“Take your top off Shinazugawa-San, I’ll need to clean and assess your wounds.” You slipped off your haori and rolled up the sleeves of your uniform. Luckily there was a gourd of water already in the room. You carried over to the bed where Sanemi was now sitting completely shirtless. It took everything in you to not stare, scars littered his torso, muscles were prominent all over. Not surprising since you could always see his toned chest and abs because of how he wore his uniform. However, you found your cheeks heating as you sat across from him, carefully lifting his arms to assess the damages.

There were 4 lacerations total. Two on his arms to add to the growing collection of scars. Then two on his chest. One deep one that would need to be tightly bandaged, and one lighter one that would heal just fine with some salve Shinobu had made for you. You kept your eyes focused on the wounds, cleaning them carefully and treating them with the antiseptic before wrapping them. You knew Sanemi’s eyes were watching you carefully, but he wasn’t watching you work. He was staring at your face, the attention made the tips of your ears burn. You hated this man’s guts no less than 12 hours ago, now here you were blushing like a schoolgirl while you dressed his wounds.

You moved on to the chest wound. Your hands trembling slightly as your fingers lightly caressed his skin. You did your best to push aside how close you were to him, especially where you were touching and instead focusing on doing a good job. “This wound is deep Shinazugawa-San, once I have it wrapped you’ll have to be very careful to not reopen it. You may need Shinobu to stitch it. However, I won’t be able to tell until the morning.”

With that you were done, you made to get up but he grabbed your arm instead. “Where do you think you are going?” The question made your stomach do backflips. “To…put these away?”

“But I haven’t assessed your wounds yet.” You felt the urge to laugh, but he was dead serious. “Now take off your top, I can see blood seeping up by your collar.” You felt your blood run cold, but pushed it aside to begin unbuttoning your top. Slowly you slipped it off, leaving you in nothing but a white binding that held your breasts in place. You felt a blush burn your cheeks as you couldn’t meet Sanemi’s eyes.

“Three cuts total. Nothing bad, but I’ll wrap them just to be safe.” His voice was so gentle it shocked you. Not nearly as much as his fingers did against your skin. You held your breath when his fingers touched your collarbone, he was doing the best he could to delicately apply the antiseptic salve Shinobu had made. You couldn’t even think straight, all too aware of how bare you were, how close he was, the feeling of his hands on you…

Where did these thoughts come from?

He was so close to your breasts. His arm brushing the swell of your chest every few moments as he bandaged the area. You came to the horrific realization that you wanted him to touch you. You wanted him to put his hands on you, particularly you wanted him to pay attention to your breasts. You turned absolutely scarlet as you realized you were longing for Shinazugawa Sanemi.

“S..Shinazugawa-San?” You noticed his hands had frozen and he was staring at you. “Are you okay l/n-san?” His voice was hoarse. Fuck.

“I…yeah. I’m fine…just…” you finally met his gaze. There was something behind those eyes that made your whole body hot. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, leaning forward without thinking. “You little brat…didn’t you spend the last year of your life making mine hell?” Your lips were centimeters apart, you could feel his breath fanning across your lips with each word he spoke.

“ I sure did… don’t act like you didn’t give it right back to me, Shinazugawa-San.” Neither of you moved, foreheads practically pressing together. “Well Shinazugawa-San?” Your voice was a whisper. “Are you going to kiss me or are you going to stare at me all night…” he smirked at that, eyes closing as he laughed. “Un-fucking-real.” Was the last thing he said before crashing his lips to yours.

It was a hungry and brutal kiss, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip so you had to open your mouth. His hands came up to cup your cheeks as his tongue darted into your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to remain aware of your wounds, but the way his mouth felt against yours had your brain short circuiting.

Ubuyashiki knew exactly what he was doing, sending you two on this mission.

You felt his chest press to your, you let out a small whimper, immediately embarrassed by it. You felt Sanemi smirk against your lips. “Sensitive? Well…” his hands moved from your cheeks down to the swell of your breasts, both hands cupping you through the bindings. He squeezed gently, causing you to moan into his mouth. “Take it off…” you were breathless as you pulled away, reaching around your back to help him untie the garment.

The moment it fell away, your nipples hardened due to the cold, or maybe it was the lust. Either way, Sanemi was absolutely entranced. “How cute…” he began kissing down your neck, hands coming back up to massage your breasts, you gasped at the feeling of his rough hands against the tender skin. His lips landed over the portion of your collarbone that he had just bandaged. He kissed it softly, muttering something against your skin that you couldn’t quite make out.

His lips replaced his hand on your left breast, his teeth nibbling at the skin and sucking marks onto it. You buried your hands in his hair, tugging tightly as he took your nipple into his mouth. “Shinazugawa-San!” Your voice was a breathless whine, you didn’t miss the way he sucked harsher at the sound. “Sanemi.”

“Huh?” You froze, looking down at him. “Stop calling me Shinazugawa-San, if we are about to do this, you better start saying Sanemi.” He moved over to your right breast, taking your nipple into his most again and using one hand to massage your left breast while his hand dug into your waist.

You adjusted yourself slightly, allowing him better access. Your eyes locked on where his lips met your skin, heat pooling between your legs at the thought of what was to come.

“I’ll be damned forever for this, you know that y/n?” He slowly pushed you back on the cot. “Then I’ll be damned with you Sanemi.” At the use of his first name, every ounce of self control faded.

“Fuck.”

He adjusted himself above you, your thighs locking his hips in place, pressed straight against your clothed cunt. You could feel him twitching against you, you wanted to feel him with no barriers. “This is taking too long…” you whined, trying your best to shimmy off your uniform pants in the position you were in.

“Impatient as ever…” he mumbled this as if he was already ripping down your uniform pants and underwear, revealing just how wet you were. The groan he let out was almost animalistic, watching him fumble with his uniform pants before his cock sprang free.

“There is a time and a place for everything, I’d love to take my fucking time and ruin you but I’ll lose my mind in ten seconds if I don’t get inside of you.” The eagerness behind his words had you clenching around nothing. He dragged the tip between your folds, coating himself in your wetness.

“I…I’m sorry if it hurts.” His mood swings were giving you whiplash at this point. Gently he pushed in, you winced slightly. You were used to pain, you could definitely take it, but you couldn’t deny the discomfort you felt as he slowly pushed in. You did your best to relax yourself, knowing that tensing up would only make it harder for you.

You were surprised when he pulled back out. “You are as tight as a vice down there, relax.” He began peppering your neck with kisses, the hands holding your hips began to massage them gently. He tried entering you again, this time it was less painful and he found himself buried to the hilt within a few seconds. You could feel his self control hanging on by a thread.

You couldn’t stop the small gasps that left you as you buried your hands in his hair yet again. “S..stop clenching like…that…” his teeth were gritted as he spoke. He was trying to stay still and let you adjust to his size but you were making it incredibly difficult. “I…can’t help it…sanemi…” his name was drawled out on your tongue, for a second you thought you heard something snap—

He pulled his hips back until just the tip was left inside, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you up so you could watch him slam fully back into you. You let out a surprised gasp, pain mixing with pleasure as you watched him do it again. Quickly the pain disappeared all together, leaving you moaning Sanemi’s name.

You looked up at him, his mouth hanging open slightly as he had his eyes glued to where his cock kept disappearing inside of you. “Feels…good…” you didn’t even really know what you were saying at this point, you mind went blank the second he started rubbing circles on your clit.

You felt your orgasm building up in your gut, that familiar overwhelming sensation making your mind go numb. Sanemi had let go of your hair, grabbing both of your thighs to hold you open. He placed one on top of his shoulder while firmly gripping the other, his thumb returning to your already overwhelmed clit. Your head fell back, back arching as everything came crashing down on you at once.

You barely heard Sanemi groaning out your name, your walls spasming around him. Your moans became whimpers as you tried to pull back from his touches, too sensitive to keep going. This is Sanemi we are talking about, he isn’t going to stop. You had your eyes squeezed shut, digging your nails into his forearms as the overstimulation slowly returned to pleasure. His hips snapped into you repeatedly, chasing after a similar high as you convulsed around him.

“C..come already…too…much.” Any other time, you’d be impressed by his stamina. You were seeing stars at this point, fighting off a laugh as Sanemi smirked, picking up his pace and slamming into you harder. The combination had your eyes rolling back, the sound of skin slapping against skin becoming too much to handle. It only took a few more thrusts before he buried himself into you, twitching as he shot his release deep inside of you.

“F..fucking…” he couldn’t even get the words out before collapsing on top of you, head buried into your neck as he tried to catch his breath. You were mumbling nonsense at this point, hand coming up half heartedly to comb through his hair. You were thoroughly exhausted. After your breathing finally regulated, you spoke up.

“Maybe I’ll send a crow, tell him we will be staying here for an extra few days to make sure…it wasn’t a bluff and the village is free of terror.” You felt Sanemi smirk against your neck. “That sounds…like a good idea.”

[iamchll]

awww my baby sanemi:((

Sanemi holding his newborn child. Cradling a small bundle wrapped tightly in warm blankets so they can sleep comfortably, little chunky cheek pressing to his chest as he cradles them. You’re fast asleep beside him, exhausted from all your new mother duties while Sanemi has the night shift. Being a slayer for so many years has practically turned him nocturnal, he can easily stay up all night on daddy duty while you get your much needed rest.

Sanemi whispering softly to his baby as they sleep, quiet little praises and affirmations of his love. He didn’t think it was possible to love something this much. To love so hard it makes his chest tight at the very thought of it. He would do anything to protect the sleeping baby in his arms, so innocent, completely untouched by the evil in the world. He’d do anything for the both of you, anything that meant you two living long happy lives.

Sanemi humming the lullaby his mother would sing him and his siblings. The same lullaby he’d hum to Genya on nights where he couldn’t fall asleep even after their mother did. It was a familiar tune, one you knew well because he’d hum it for you on nights where you couldn’t sleep either. Sanemi unable to pull his eyes away from their little face. Noting that they had your lips and his nose, soft little tufts of white hair and long lashes. The chubbiest cheeks he’d ever seen, ten perfect fingers and toes with the littlest nails.

Sanemi memorizing your baby’s face in the same way he had memorized yours, wanting to engrave every single part of you two into his brain. Sanemi quietly settling down with his baby still tucked snuggly in his arms, their little head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. Sanemi sighing softly, heart aching and full of love. His twenty fifth birthday was just a few months away, it almost felt surreal as he whispered softly to his sleeping baby…

“I wish I could be here to watch you grow up.”