#i just hope he's in-character enough lol </3

[draculasfavoritewife]

Idle Hands

Summary: Whenever Tony forgets to go to bed, it's always been up to you to bring him back to your side.

Pairing: Tony Stark x fem!Reader

Warnings: Heavy on the softness compared to most of my other stuff; I was in a very sentimental (read: sad and touch-starved) mood back when I wrote this lol. Tony Stark is a TEASE both in word and deed -- I have said it is canon therefore it is now. The feral way he makes me feel should be illegal. Also you can read the...implications of my vague wordings towards the end as tame or as smutty as you wish ;)

I feel the need to mention here that Tony Stark has been my most favorite comic book character since I was but a mere 11 years old. He holds the distinction of being my longest-running fictional crush/object of my obsessions and I love him so deeply and for so many little reasons that I could write a PhD dissertation on him. So please enjoy my little love letter to the man that has held my heart for nearly a decade and a half <3

It's that point of the night where you really can't decide if it should be counted as ungodly late or ungodly early. 4:00 am does tend to scramble the thoughts.

You've been drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep for what feels like forever, and as you roll away from the digital clock display on the wall with an annoyed sigh, you suddenly see why.

The other side of the bed is utterly untouched.

He hasn't been here with you at all.

You sit up, trying to remember if he had plans tonight. The calendar app on your phone has no record of a gala, awards ceremony, board meeting, or anything else that might have taken up his time.

Which means he's probably down in the lab again.

Briefly, you contemplate trying to call him, but you know from experience that he probably isn't taking calls right now, even if FRIDAY tried to put one through for you. He's in that zone that only designing and building can put him in, the one mindset where his too-busy brain is crystal clear and the world at last makes sense to him.

So you pull yourself out of bed, throw one of his old sweatshirts on over your cami and pajama shorts (he keeps the AC cranked all the way whenever it's warm outside) and pad out of the bedroom and on your way downstairs.

His lab is awe-inspiring as always, no matter how many times you see it. The purring thrum of the generators and the comforting pulse of dimmed lights, the heavy, electric feeling of the air itself -- he's described his workspace to you as having a life of its own before, and you can understand so well why time escapes him down here.

You just hope he's not using it to escape from other things as well.

He's deeply absorbed in his work on something at a station opposite the door, and your heart skips a beat even as you smile fondly at the familiar sight. Clad in sweatpants and a black tank through which you can just barely see the blue glow of his arc reactor, he looks all at once more human than usual and like some being from another world entirely.

It's the Stark curse, he told you once, and you recall the wry slant of his lips as he said so. To know you're a god trapped in a mortal body, an infinite mind with a finite number of years to use it. It's the reason behind all his greatest triumphs -- and all his harshest falls from grace.

And somehow, you were lucky enough to be the one he fell in love with.

It still feels like a dream sometimes.

Realizing he isn't going to look up on his own anytime soon, you stifle a yawn and knock sharply on the doorframe.

"Tony?"

He stiffens as if he's been shocked (always a possibility, when he's rewiring) and shoves the safety glasses high up on his forehead. "That would be yours truly. Everything alright?"

With a laugh, you cross the room, warmth rising in your chest as he immediately sets down his tools and steps out from behind the table to meet you. And damn, he always looks good -- he is Tony Stark, after all -- but there's always something about him when his hair gets all unruly and he has THAT look of intense concentration on his face that really drives home to you all over again just how gorgeous he is.

You cuddle up to him, and he kisses the top of your head.

"Asked you a question, Honey."

"Do you know what time it is, Tony?"

There's a prolonged moment of answering silence as he glances up at one of his nearby monitors. "Crap. Well, why are you up?"

Pulling back slightly so you can tease the protective eyewear off his head, you give him a look. "Can't sleep."

An eyebrow tilts; he's playing dumb.

"And that's my problem why?"

"Jerk." You take your time playing with his glossy dark hair, neatening it back up before raking your fingers through it to mess it up again. "Maybe because you love me...?"

"Oh, so you're down here looking for sympathy, got it." He smirks at you, a well-practiced and infuriatingly handsome look. "In that case, sorry about your insomnia, Beautiful. There's melatonin in the drug cabinet upstairs." He snares the safety glasses from your fingers once more and makes as if to return to his work. "Sympathetic enough for you?"

You wrap your arms around his waist from behind, stopping him from going any further, though the smug son of a bitch starts tinkering with his new designs again even through your persistent clinging. It mesmerizes you for a couple seconds, always has, the way his hands work with such delicate precision and dexterity, and you can't help selfishly wishing he would turn them towards other, less...mechanical endeavors at this moment.

He probably would, in all honesty, but Tony Stark is the king of making you work for it. Philanthropic he may be, but some things even you have to earn from him when he's feeling particularly devilish.

"I don't want your pity," you hum, pressing a sleepy kiss to his shoulder. "I was lonely without you."

"Perfectly understandable. I've been told by many that I'm scintillating company. You can, by all means, stay and watch me work, you know. Feeds my humble ego."

You roll your eyes and impatiently reach up under his shirt, feeling his muscles tense at the unexpected coldness of your hands.

That finally gets his attention and makes him turn around. Before you can even fully comprehend it, he's swept his work out of the way and lifted you up onto the worktable instead, restless fingers drawing intricate patterns on your inner thighs, though his eyes never leave yours, crystalline blue pinning your attention to his amused face instead of his very distracting hands.

"That," he grins, "was adorable. Sleepy version of you is so much more demanding. Maybe I should stay down here too long more often."

You try to frown at him, though his sparkling gaze and mischievous touch make that impossible. "How dare you."

"I do a lot of dumb things to see where they get me. You know that." He nods at the thick gray sweatshirt still keeping you warm. "Why don't you take that off for me, Sweetness. You make me cold, I get to return the favor."

Unable to come up with something snarky to say in return with the way his hands are making you shiver now, you do as he suggests with little resistance, the exposed skin of your arms and chest prickling at the much cooler air.

He leans in to tenderly kiss your neck, and your breath leaves in a sigh at the way his facial hair scratches at your throat. He's always been a helluva kisser and the meticulously maintained goatee is just the icing on the cake. Making out on his worktable was not the original plan when you first came down here, but even by his own admission Tony's best plans are usually improvised.

And you're certainly not complaining.

"What did you want from me again?" he murmurs, close to your ear.

The absolute audacity of him.

"Mmmmmmm," seems to be about all you can manage at the moment, and you know very well what's coming next.

He pulls you closer to him, the movements of his fingers turning agonizingly slow and prompting a slight gasp from you.

The smile that gradually spreads its way across his mouth is absolutely wicked.

"What was that, Sweetheart? I didn't quite catch it."

You try to reclaim some semblance of coherence, but his firm hold on you prevents you from escaping his delightfully systematic torture, so instead you grab on to his well-defined shoulders, your forehead resting against his chest. The mechanically-stabilized beat of his heart echoing beneath his skin a brief reminder that he's alive, despite everything he's been through, and he is yours. There's no one else on his mind, no one else he's let this far into his messy and often painful world.

The world may know him as Iron Man, the one who has saved them more times than they could ever count, but how many people really know the Tony that you know?

That same Tony who now raises one hand to tip your head back, whose sharp eyes soften with affection for the slightest of seconds before the anticipated words fall from his tongue, the words he knows will always unravel you.

"You just have to tell me what you want. Come on, Princess. Use your words."

You shudder and lean in to beg for another kiss.

"You, Tony. Always you. Please."

He kisses you back with renewed intensity, leaving you completely breathless.

"There we go...was that so hard?"

[jvten]

vi and the puppets (part 2: ray)

hey there y'all! been a hot minute since i've posted some writing. here ya go! another MFN (My Friendly Neighborhood) / LDM (Love, Decay and Mayhem) oneshot from my mini-series :D also I'm literally rewatching streams of the game rn haha

warnings: one cuss word (the 'f' one lmao), minor depictions of violence (aka ray hittin richie with an iron lol), a little bit of angst (aka vi crying ;A; i'm sorry my child, but you know i had to do it to you)

characters: vi (5 years old here), ray, gerzwald, renee (gerzwald's wife, they both raised/adopted vi, but technically the puppets helped raise vi too hehe <3) and also richie bromine

read part 1 here!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Nothing could be heard throughout the basement besides the pained cries of five-year-old Vi, diamond tears streaming down her face as she wandered the empty corridors, holding her teddy bear in her arms. The workers and the janitor had already gone home for the night, making the little girl think she was alone and that she would be lost forever in the basement.

However, her cries did not go unheard. One particular puppet from the My Friendly Neighborhood show approached the opening of a pipe from within upon hearing the cries that sounded so hurt they could have been screams. And when Ray saw Vi curled up against the wall, holding her head, crying, by some boxes, he crawled out of the pipe and came closer to her. It broke his patchwork heart seeing the little girl shaking, looking even smaller than usual curled up like that. Gently, he placed a hand atop her head, and she looked up at the contact. Realizing that it was him, she wordlessly reached up for the large puppet. A low growl-hum rumbling through him, he carefully scooped her up into his arms and let her lie against him as he sat against the wall.

The soft fur of his hand allowed the tears on Vi’s face to be dried quicker as he wiped them away as gently as possible. Ray could tell she didn’t know how to get out of the basement, there was a kind of fear he recognised, the fear that she would be lost forever… no, it was… the fear that she would be alone forever. That, he knew all too well.

When it became apparent that no one else would be coming here for a while, and that it would take as such to come down and find Vi down here, Ray decided to bring her to Stage 2, his workshop, turning on the lights above them so that the room wasn’t surrounded in darkness, and so that she would have a decent place to play in for a while. He grabbed some paper and pencils for her to use while they waited for someone to come get her, and at first she drew in silence.

“Ray? I… I know you didn’t mean to hurt Uncle Richie…” she soon said, rubbing her eyes. “I know you’re not bad like what everyone else says. You’re still my friend.”

Ray growled again, more despondently this time. Yes, he didn’t mean to hurt Richie… or maybe he did. How could he not? The human man had been saying horrible things about the show… about the puppets, about Gerzwald. He’d even said something about Vi. Maybe that was what triggered Ray… the fact that Richie Bromine brought shameless insult to a child, an innocent child that did nothing wrong, a child that Ray cared for so much.

It had happened two weeks prior, and it had been their half-time break on one seemingly ordinary day. They were in Stage 4, the Neighborhood set. Ray had gotten bored of going over lines — of which he had very few — and had decided to go and find Vi so he could at least have some enjoyable company during the thirty-minute break. But a pair of voices drew his attention. Richie and a crew member were standing by the building with the red doors, talking amongst themselves. Ray knew that he shouldn’t have listened in or eavesdropped, and he was going to walk away, but…

“I swear these episodes are getting more and more boring every day,” Richie had said exhaustedly to the crew member. "The movies aren’t even that good. This whole franchise needs to be more mainstream if people are going to love it. But, no, the only ones who do barely even know how to say “neighborhood”. It’s annoying.”

Ray’s curiosity had been piqued, and he hid in the shadow of the entrance to the alleyway, the dim lighting concealing him well enough.

“I don’t know what Gerzwald is thinking, constantly putting me in with the puppets. Why can’t I star with the other humans, huh? All these puppets… they’re crazy. I can feel it. They’re insane and no one except me knows it. Gerzwald is insane. The fact that he thinks this whole show about stupid muppets teaching people about kindness and friendship is just… it’s mad.”

Ray felt anger beginning to stir. He wanted to show Richie what for. Make him regret saying those things about them. About Gerzwald. Because how dare he call them crazy? However he quickly decided to leave the set for now and perhaps try to communicate to Gerzwald about this.

But he didn’t even get the chance to take more than a few steps out of the shadows...

“Besides, even if I were to star with the other people more frequently, I wouldn’t want to have to put up with Violet," said Richie, the name of the little girl redrawing Ray’s attention. “She’s the youngest on the set, damnit. And yet she’s somehow one of the main stars of the show? I hardly even get any scenes because people love her too much. She’s too hyper. Too giggly. She’s gaining more attention from viewers than me, she doesn’t deserve that attention because she can’t possibly know what it’s like for us adults to go through all this. And she’s far too annoying—”

The anger had begin to boil over so much that the large puppet had unconsciously grabbed the nearest item, a clothes iron, stepped out of the shadow of the alleyway, and… well…

“What the HELL?! You’re crazy! You’re FUCKING INSANE!”

Next thing he knew Richie was on the ground, as hurt and furious as Ray had felt. Ray dropped the iron, the plastic and metal clattering onto the floor. The crew members all fearfully stepped away from him, keeping their gaze on him as if he could attack any one of them at any moment.

And then, a few days later, Ray had been moved to the basement, to reduce any risk of any employees being hurt by him.

But Ray had remembered how much his heart had hurt when they were in the process of moving him to the basement. Not just because he would be separated from the rest of the puppets and crew, meant to be isolated so far underground… but because of the way Vi had cried that day. “Don’t go, Ray! Don’t go!” she’d cried, trying to pull him back from Gerzwald by grabbing his arm.

“Violet, dear, you have to let go—” Gerzwald had said, attempting to coerce her from the puppet, but she had only avoided any more convincing from her father, shaking her head desperately.

“You can’t go, Ray!” she’d exclaimed, tears streaming down her face like diamond waterfalls. “Please! I don’t want you to leave!” He desperately wanted to tell her that she would be okay, that he would try his best to manage down in the basement, but alas, words had never been his strong suit. It was heartbreaking, the way she had thought Ray would be leaving for good, even when Gerzwald tried to help her understand that it was not just for the humans’ safety, but for Ray as well, and that this needed to happen. It was heartbreaking how, despite being told this, she kept clinging onto him like both of their lives depended on it, like he’d disappear or vanish from sight if she ever let go. “No! Stay here! You have to stay! Don’t leave!”

It was only when Renee told Vi that she would still be able to see him that the little girl had slowly managed to calm down. She then crouched down in front of her daughter, making sure Vi would listen. “Vi, honey. I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for all of us. But you’ll still be able to see Ray, okay? Just… not as much. We can try to bring you down there with us to see him when we’re filming for the show. Is that okay with you?” When Vi slowly nodded, Renee sighed. “Change can be tough, baby, but I know you’ll be okay. And Ray will be okay too.”

It had taken a while for Vi to let go of Ray’s arm, but the large nine to ten foot tall puppet had knelt down in front of her, picking up her teddy bear that she had dropped on the floor and giving it to her, giving as much of a comforting smile as he could.

Sure, it was lonely down in the basement, but regardless of whether or not he knew he’d be moved, Ray would have defended Vi from any harmful words any day. He found it unforgivable that Richie had called Vi those things. And he would do anything for the little girl that he and the other puppets cared about so much.

Ever since he was the first one to find her at the entrance to the studio, a small baby wrapped up in blankets in a basket, well, needless to say Ray had seen things differently. With Vi around, in the studio, life was brighter, more fun, with each of the puppets holding her dear to their hearts.

He was brought back out of his memories as Vi now stood in front of him and held her teddy bear up to him, waving its hand. “Don’t be sad, Ray,” she spoke, pretending to sound like her bear, “Mr Snuggles still thinks you’re fun! And Vi wanted me to say that she loves you!”

His heart warmed even more, and he gently shook the teddy bear’s hand before bringing Vi back into another hug, feeling much less lonely now. He loved her too. He just wasn’t able to say it.

Even when Renee had found them a few hours later, looking understandably stressed from searching for Vi but now relieved, Ray knew that he could count on Vi, hoping that she felt that she could count on him too. But what surprised him was that, before they left, Renee looked back at him. “Thank you, Ray… thank you. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

And when they left, with Vi being carried in Renee’s arms and waving to him, Ray figured that if there were still a few people who cared about him, then that was all that mattered.

[hplonesomeart]

He found out he’s not the highest rated anymore….isn’t taking it too well <<

[ectoplasmer]

[wreckedhoney]

"WONDERFUL SHOW TONIGHT, FORREST."

a KILLER FREQUENCY Marie Campbell/Forrest Nash ship playlist on YT

"Good to talk to you again, Forrest. You know, I've really enjoyed our chats tonight." "I guess we've had some moments."

Tracklist under the cut

Is Everybody Going Crazy? - Nothing But Thieves / The Perfect Girl - Mareux / We Don't Have To Dance - Andy Black / Night Issues (Nightcall x Daddy Issues) Mashup/Remix - FuturePastPerson / "Bassically" - Tei Shi / Cold Summer - Mareux / Diet Mountain Dew - Lana Del Rey / Destruction Of Us - Mr.Kitty / Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer / HUSH - Ari Abdul / DTLA - Mareux / Make You Mine - Madison Beer / FEAR YOU - Kat Von D / Bad Romance - Lady Gaga / Dark All Day - GUNSHIP / Maniac (feat. Conor Mason of Nothing But Thieves) - AWOLNATION

[aeyumicore]

what's mine

━ .ᐟ✧ PAIRING: zayne x female reader (afab)

━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with plot, not canon events (completely fictional)

━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 10.7k

━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, first time sex with zayne (not virginity loss), jealous!zayne, dom!zayne, zayne slightly loses control of evol, furniture breaks, lot’s of teasing, fictional characters, size kink, vaginal sex, oral sex f!receiving, tongue fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, slightly drunk sex (not really), tummy bulge, posessive/claiming behavior, let me know if i missed anything!

━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: ao3

━ ✧.˖ A/N: helloooo writing for my fav zayne again <3 would you guys believe this is actually the first lads fic i ever started but i put it on hold because it was way too elaborate and i didn’t want to make a whole like multi chapter fic? i actually cut out a lotttt of it, it probably would’ve been more like 30k words if i kept the same writing style/detail i had originally, and i just could not do that to myself

also the matthew/intern mentioned in the fic is completely made up and fictional, he is not a reference to any characters! i couldn’t bring myself to use greyson for the purposes of the plot bc i think he and zayne are so cute LOL god i love the jealous angsty feelings trope 

pls enjoy hehe i luv u guys <3 also come interact with me on twit @/aeyumicore :’)

THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.

✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖

"Will you go to dinner with me?”

You whip your head around to see where the unfamiliar voice came from, coming face to face with one of the surgical interns of the Akso hospital. You’d run into him several times before when visiting Zayne at work, but never quite got his name.

"Me?” 

The intern chuckles at your dumbfoundedness, which he thinks is adorable, "Yes, you’re Y/N right? My name is Matthew. I'm one of the surgical interns here. So, will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow?”

Zayne chokes on his rice from the seat beside you, patting his chest a few times to clear his throat. You’d decided to have lunch with Zayne after your check-up today; well more like you’d forced him to the cafeteria with you against his will. You’d desperately wanted to try the infamous mint chocolate chip jello the hospital cafeteria served, even though you knew it’d be disgusting. And so you both sat at a table in the cafeteria, you with your jello and Zayne with a homemade bento box you’d made for him, along with some of his favorite pastries from the bakery down the street.

At his coughs, the intern’s eyes snapped to Zayne’s and it was like he’d just then realized Zayne was there, the surprise and anxiety written all over his expression. Zayne was always someone who commanded respect and fear from his colleagues and subordinates, so much so that Matthew had turned pale as a ghost. 

"Oh! Dr. Zayne, I'm so sorry I didn’t realize–” but Zayne cuts him off with a simple wave of his hand. 

"It’s fine. Continue your conversation.” You’re a bit taken back by Zayne’s nonchalance. Sure, you were just childhood friends but it would be nice if Zayne had any reaction at all to being asked out right in front of him. You yourself couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards Zayne but it was seeming more and more that it was completely one sided.

"I, um…” you’re at a loss for words, not knowing how to let the handsome intern down. Matthew was honestly very attractive, and seemed kind enough, but you had hoped to spend your friday night with Zayne, though you hadn’t had the chance to ask him yet. He’d been swamped with surgeries and patients the last few days and you hardly got to see him at all. And you missed him thoroughly.

"I actually had plans with Zay– I mean dr. Zayne,” you glance at Zayne, hoping he’ll get the message, but the expression on his face is dark and unreadable. 

"No we don’t. You should go,” Zayne’s tone is cold and his eyes refuse to meet yours. Despite yourself, your heart clenches in disappointment. You know Zayne could be obtuse but he was also extremely intelligent and perceptive. He undoubtedly knew you wanted to spend your night with him. But it was becoming more and more apparent he did not want to spend his with you.

"But i–”

"I have plans anyways.” Your eyes can’t help but sting as he avoids looking at you. So you try to steel yourself; you were a big girl and a little bit of unrequited affection would not destroy you. Keeping your voice steady and blinking back unshed tears of frustration, you look up at Matthew, his eyes lighting up at you expectantly, and you try to give him your best smile.

"I...I would love to go to dinner with you!”

You don’t notice the deep scowl on Zayne’s face as a dark icy storm brews in his green eyes. 

–

You stumbled out of the taxi, your way-too-high heels catching on the foot step almost causing you to trip headfirst into the pavement. You sigh as you catch yourself on the cab door and glance at your hunter watch and see that it’s already 1am. 

"Get home safe miss, and no more drinks, you hear me?” Your cab driver reprimands you teasingly.

"Yes sir,” you mock salute him as you wobble onto your feet, thoroughly drunk, "Thank you so much! Please drive safe. Good night sir!”

"Good night miss!” 

You turn towards your apartment building, sighing in exhausted defeat. What an absolute disaster of a night.

The date was unexpectedly wonderful. Matthew was handsome, kind, funny, and a complete gentleman. He brought you to a very fancy and expensive restaurant downtown, so you wore one of your most elegant dresses, not that you had many. It was a simple satin black mid-length evening dress, with a slit that exposed just up to your mid thigh and an open back that accentuates your figure. You’d normally never wear something so sensual on a first date, but you couldn’t deny that the way Zayne had reacted, or not reacted, stung your heart. So maybe you did go a little extra tonight because you were hurt. So what?

After dinner, Matthew and you took a leisurely stroll at linkon park, with enough time to catch the sunset. As you watched the sun melt into the sea of golden yellows and dusky pinks, Matthew kissed you. It was passionate, slow, and soft. The perfect kiss.

Except when you moaned out Zayne’s name. 

And so the night ended as quickly as it began. Matthew was as understanding as he possibly could have been, but you could tell it killed anything that could have happened between the two of you. Matthew was a surgical intern, so with what little free time he had, he said he couldn’t chance it on a girl who was clearly already in love with someone else, especially if that someone was his boss and mentor. He’d offered to give you a ride back home but you refused, saying you’d grab a cab instead.  

So you found yourself at a bar, downing shots of soju to numb the mortification of your blunder but also the feeling of utter patheticness. Hours went by as you wallowed in your emotions. You’d had feelings for Zayne for as long as you could even remember. And still, you couldn’t tell him or move on from him. 

But maybe you would have the guts to tell him if it didn’t feel like he literally could not give two cents about you, beyond as a patient and as his annoying childhood friend. It was literally like pulling teeth to get him to spend any time at all with you lately. 

So here you were, stumbling into your apartment building at 1:37 am: drunk, exhausted, and empty. The night breeze raised goosebumps on your exposed thighs as your heels clicked on the pavement in the dark. 

You headed toward your apartment, through the main entrance and up the lobby elevator, the alcohol still making your brain swim. Luckily you no longer saw double, and your eyelids no longer felt like a ton of bricks.  

The elevator door dinged open and you trudged toward your unit, your toes screaming in protest in the confine of your heels. You forced your vision to cooperate with you as you tried to punch in your door code. The error buzz sounded out, again and again, and you groaned in frustration.

In the blurry edges of your vision, a large and slightly scarred hand reached over yours. Yelping, you whip yourself around and reach to grab the gun you always had strapped to your thigh. But from the icy cold touch against your fingers and the scars littering the pink skin, you realize exactly who it was.

"Zayne?” You did your best not to slur, trapped between him and your front door. You don’t miss how he swears under his breath as his eyes trail down your body, lingering at all your exposed skin, before snapping back up to your face. You can’t even imagine how wrecked you must look right now, mentally kicking yourself for not touching up after the bar. Your gloss was undoubtedly smeared from the kiss and the copious alcohol, your hair a bird’s nest from the night breeze, and your mascara smeared from the stray tears of your drunken emotions.

You didn’t do a very good job at steeling your voice because Zayne saw right through you, his eyes narrowing as they absolutely drank you in, "You’re drunk?” His voice holds a dangerous edge, as if mad that you’d have the audacity to be drunk. He deftly types your access code in, and gently ushers you into your apartment. You stumble in your heels against his body, and Zayne wraps his arm around your waist to catch you before you fall. You flush at the way his hands palm the exposed skin of your lower back. 

"M’not drunk,” you protest, swatting his hand away, not wanting your body to give any of your feelings towards him away, but Zayne only grips you tighter, fingers flitting between the soft satin material of your dress and the goosebump ridden skin of your back. His arm on your waist feels so right, threatening to make you melt right into his embrace. But you fight the urge, trying to hold onto your annoyance.

You can’t see his eyes but you know they’re rolling in their sockets at your obvious drunkeness. He gently guides you through the threshold of your home and then kneels down before you. The sight of him on the floor in front of your feet makes you reel, hoping the furious blush is masked by the flush of alcohol in your blood.

"W-what are you doing?” You try to step back, but your knees wobble and Zayne grips your thigh in place. You shiver at his cold touch on your sensitive skin, a little too high for you to keep any semblance of calm.

"Do you want to stay in these deathtraps?” He murmurs as he starts to slip the strappy heels off of your aching feet. His fingers around your ankle tingle as he softly massages the red skin of where the straps dug in.

"Zayne? Why are you here? Did something happen?” Your voice wavers still, but Zayne’s cold touch is starting to sober you up and clear your vision as your mind tries its best to focus on him. Zayne doesn’t respond as he lifts your other foot and slips the other heel off. His fingers linger on your bare legs before he slips your house slippers on your feet, standing back up to tower over you. 

"It’s almost 2 in the morning, and you’re just now coming home,” his voice is hard and stern, it’s clear he has things he wants to say but you’re in no mood for a lecture on sexual safety, stds, and stranger danger. 

"I was busy,” you snap, your emotions running extra high from everything that had happened today, especially Zayne’s nonchalance. But he’s incredibly patient with you, as he always is, taking you by the waist nagain and leading you to your living room couch. You’re too tired to resist, and you desperately need to get off your aching feet.

"How was your date?” Zayne sits you on your couch and then heads to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. His question reminds you of how royally you screwed up today and your mood sours even more. 

"Fine,” you mutter, trying to keep from snapping at him again. Zayne sits beside you and brings the glass of water to your lips, tilting it for you with his fingers on your jaw. You take deep gulps, the cold water soothing your entire sore body. Sinking further into the couch, your mind wanders back to your disastrous screw up. You’d called Matthew Zayne. It literally couldn’t get more mortifying than that.

Zayne stares at you and you know he doesn’t believe you, so you murmur again, "It was fine.” But as his intense eyes bore holes into you, your voice cracks under all the feelings you’d stuffed deep down today. 

He was here now and it confused you to no end. You’d wanted nothing more than to spend your day with him, but he’d pushed you away. Were you really that blind that you’d developed feelings for a man who did not feel even slightly the same way? 

Your eyes well up with tears at the thought and you try to subtly brush them away by pretending to scratch your cheek, but as always Zayne sees right through you. 

"Did he do something to you? Did he get you drunk?” Zayne’s voice is calm but hard and threatening.enough to scare you if it weren't for the way he softly gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back to his, using his free thumb to catch the tears before they can slip down your cheek

But through it all, you register the implication of his words. "Wh-what? No!” You exclaim, "Matthew was a complete gentleman.”

His eyes track yours, unwilling to let go of your gaze, "Then why are you crying?” 

You blink back your tears before more can fall onto his thumb. Your voice wavers as you stare into the hazel green ocean of his eyes, and you answer his question with a question of your own, "Why are you here Zayne?” 

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe.” Your chest constricts with unrelenting emotions, but your drunken haze makes you even more steadfast in your stubborn resolve. 

"Well I'm home, safe,” you avert your eyes, knowing if Zayne keeps staring at you with that intensity you’ll start to unravel and confess everything.

"Why did you take a cab home?”

Your eyes snap to his, "How did you know I took a cab?” And this time Zayne’s eyes refuse to meet yours, "Zayne? How long have you been waiting for me?”

Zayne doesn’t respond, instead brushing the tangles out of your hair. You try to get his attention by tugging at his tie, the alcohol making you feel much bolder than you normally ever would. 

You can see his adam's apple bob as he lets himself be drawn in, only slightly, towards you. At your pout, he sighs in defeat, prying your hands away so he can loosen the tightened hold around his neck, "I’ve been waiting for you…forever.” 

Before you can respond, he clears his throat and continues, "I got here at 9 and waited in my car when I knocked and you didn't answer.”

At your bewildered expression, he sighs and elaborates, "I just wanted to see you get back home safely. But when I saw you get out of that cab I needed to come check on you.”

Your brows furrowed as your sobering self tried to do the math in your head. Zayne can practically see the steam coming out of your ears and smiles lopsidedly, chuckling under his breath at how adorable you were being.

"You waited for 7 hours?!” You exclaimed, eyes wide. 

His grin deepens and you can see his eyes sparkling with laughter , "You are drunk. Why are you drunk?”

You purse your lips shut, unwilling to speak. With all the overwhelming emotions swarming your mind, you knew if you started talking now you would surely never stop.

At your silence, Zayne prods gently, "Talk to me, Y/N.” His voice is deep and commanding in a way that almost always gets you to listen to him. 

You zip your lips shut and turn away, doing your damn best to not give in. But Zayne’s touch, still on your cheeks, forces you back towards his eyes.

"Be a good girl,” he demands softly, his eyes searching yours for answers. 

Blowing out your cheeks like a child, you’re unwilling to give up the attitude, "I’m drunk because I was drinking.”

"Did Matthew take advantage of you?” Zayne’s jaw is locked and the intensity in his eyes is blinding, damn near dangerous. 

"No! Zayne, no. I went to a bar to drink alone, after our date,” you try to hide the embarrassment from seeping into your voice.

"Why? Did he do something to you?” His voice is still threatening, and you sigh at the unrelenting questions. You knew Zayne well enough to know he wasn’t going to let up, so it would just be easier on you if you told him everything that happened.

"Matthew was amazing,” you don’t notice the way Zayne’s eyes darken at your praises for the intern, "The date was fantastic. And after, we saw the sunset.” His expression is still unreadable and you start to fidget under his intense gaze, not knowing in the slightest what he was thinking. 

"And then he kissed me. We kissed. And that was it. I went to the bar and he went home. End of story.” 

Zayne’s fists ball so tightly his knuckles turn white, but he keeps his gaze steady. He doesn’t speak, and you’re scared of the tense silence that falls between you two.

"He couldn’t at least accompany you? Make sure you were safe?” You can tell Zayne is angry by the way his feet taps uncharacteristically erratically against the floor, "Driven you home?”

His questions make it impossible for you to forget about your horrifying mistake today and you just feel so incredibly bad for Matthew. The regret and embarrassment gnaw at your mind like parasites. And so against your better, albeit slightly still drunken, judgment, you finally blow.

"He left because I was thinking of you, okay? Matthew was a gentleman, he was funny, kind, and charming. And yet I was thinking of you the whole time. And so he left and I went to a bar and got drunk all on my own, okay?”

"You were thinking of me?” Zayne’s voice is an annoying mix of bewilderment, intrigue, and what sounds like mockery, which just infuriates you.

"I am always thinking of you Zayne! I thought about you at dinner, I thought about you when we watched the sunset, and I thought about you when he kissed me,” you burst, your drunken lack of inhibitions leaving nothing unsaid. 

Zayne’s face is unreadable again, but there’s a heat in his eyes that makes you tremble in your seat, "You were thinking of me when he kissed you?”

Unable to bear his unrelenting repetitive questions anymore, you explode, "Yes Zayne! And when he kissed me I called out for you!” The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think twice about it. It takes you a second to realize what you’d just blurted out and you bury your face in your hands, wanting nothing more than to scream at the top of your lungs. Unfortunately it was 2am and you had neighbors that most definitely would not appreciate that. 

You feel his strong hands grab your wrists gently, prying your hands away from your face, wanting to see you, "You called for me?” His tone is as amused as it is intrigued and it frustrates you to no end, the shame weighing heavily on your mind. 

"Don’t tease me right now Zayne,“ you warn weakly, "I am always thinking about you. But you…” your voice trails off to a shallow whisper, "You don’t seem to think about me.”

Zayne is silent but his eyes are as intense as you’ve ever seen them, staring into your soul. The silence is thick in the air as you refuse to be the one to break it.

Finally, he speaks, voice clouded with indiscernible emotions, "Is that what you really think? That I don’t think about you?”

"Do you really think I waited for 5 hours, in my car, for you to come back because I don’t think about you?” Your breath catches in your throat at the pure and raw growl in his voice. 

Before you can respond, he continues, "I think about you every second of every day. I thought about you all day, thought about you on your date with Matthew.”

Zayne shifts so that he can cup your face with both his hands, drawing his face closer but not close enough, "I thought about him getting to hear your voice, getting to touch you…to kiss you. It drove me insane.” 

Your feelings churn in your stomach and into your chest, making it hard to breathe. The way Zayne is looking at you, his hands holding your face so possessively, threatens to stop your heart altogether. You’re drawn to him all over again, only this time it feels like he might be drawn to you too.

"W-why?”

Zayne doesn’t speak, and you watch as his eyes flutter to your parted lips as you pant out your breaths, eyes fighting to stay open amidst all the tension enveloping the two of you. 

"Why did you push me to go with him then?”

His eyes force themselves onto yours, as if unwilling to leave your lips, "I made a mistake.” 

His revelations quickly sober you up, and you’re left feeling vulnerable but bold. You softly grab a fist full of his tie, pulling him closer. You can faintly hear him groan under his breath, but he lets himself be guided towards you. Your lips are so close to each other that you’re inhaling each other in, and you beg gently, "Kiss me, Zayne.” 

Zayne wastes no time at all, threading his fingers from your cheek into your hair, pulling your face the remainder of the distance to his own. 

Your first kiss with Zayne is nothing like you’d daydreamed it would be. You’d imagined the patient and reserved surgeon to be soft, gentle, taking his time with you. You’d expected it to be passionate but reserved, like the handsome raven haired man himself. 

And while the passion was undeniably there, what you didn’t expect was the bruising claiming heat that came with it. Zayne’s soft lips marked you as his own, a lifetime’s worth of emotions evident in the way he molded himself against you. With every twitch of his lips, Zayne laid claim to what was his. He kissed you like you might disappear at any moment, as if this was all a dream.

And when his tongue swiped across the parting of your lips, asking for permission to enter, you gladly relented control and authority. After all, you were his. You think you had been for some time.  

You hadn’t expected your first kiss with Zayne to be like this, and yet it was everything you wanted and more.

When you shift yourself to climb on top of him and straddle him on your couch, Zayne reluctantly pulls away, hands still gripping the back of your head, "Y/n, we should stop.” But he can’t stop his hands from leaving your soft hair and resting on your hips, almost like a reflex. His words say one thing but his hands just can't seem to pry themselves off of you.

You’re taken aback by his words, unable to stop the insecurity and hurt that paints your face. Zayne notices instantly, one of his hands leaving your hips to stroke your cheek, hooking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into his hand, the whiplash starting to exhaust you as much as it kept you on your toes. 

"I want to,” he whispers hoarsely as you squirm on top of him, answering your unsaid thoughts, "I can’t even convey how much I've fucking wanted to. But you’re drunk. And the first time I finally take you...I want you to feel every second of it.” 

Your eyes flutter at his words, stomach clenching in anticipation. Having fully sobered up a while ago, before he even kissed you, you can’t help but beg a little, "I’m not drunk anymore. And even if I was… I want you. I’ve wanted you…forever.” 

Zayne swears, his eyes going full doctor mode, and you can tell he’s inspecting every inch of you to try and discern if you’re truly sober or not. You fidget nervously under his intense stare, to which his hands grip your waist painfully tight to keep you in place.

"Stop,” he grits out forcefully, as if in pain. You do your best to still in his lap, and that’s when you feel the unmistakable bulge of his erection underneath your parted dress that had ridden up to bunch at your hips, right against the pantyhose against your cunt. 

"Are you sure this is what you want?” He groans as your body presses deeper into his lap, "Because once…we start I won’t be able to stop.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the heated warning doing nothing but arousing you to your core. Through your hooded eyes, you nod eagerly at him, "M’sure Zayne. Won’t want to stop.” 

He smirks at you, a heart stopping smile that melts your brain and cunt simultaneously into a leaking mess, "You asked for it love.” 

Before you can even have the chance to physically combust at the affectionate pet name, Zayne whisks you into the air, scooping you under your exposed knees effortlessly. You yelp, clutching onto his neck as he carries you like a bride into your bedroom, navigating your apartment like he owned it. He bent down to capture your lips with his again, like he couldn’t physically wait to get you to your bed before claiming you again. 

You feel the cold press of your sheets against your spine as Zayne sets you down gently, and settles in between your thighs on top of you. His eyes absolutely devour you whole, raking up and down your exposed satin clad skin, "You look beautiful. I’ve been wanting to tell you all night.” His praise is throaty with desire and it makes you squeeze your thighs together against his body in anticipation. Your face heats at his words, and you run your palms up and down his abdomen, the material of his dress shirt feeling like silk against your burning skin. 

Zayne grins and chuckles, mostly to himself, but the sound catches your attention and you find yourself pouting in self-consciousness, "What’s funny?”

Zayne’s long fingers trace the outlines of your body under the satin dress, eliciting soft moans from you that please him to his core, "You just look so beautiful.” His fingers reach the bottom of your dress and begin to stroke the fabric of your pantyhose, inching up under your dress, so torturously slowly, "You wore this for him, yet I'm the one that’s going to tear it off you.”

Your body trembles at his words, the pool between your legs growing wetter. You can feel yourself growing impatient, only wanting his body to press onto yours, to suffocate your.

"Zayne please, don’t make me wait any more,” you murmur as you sit up on your elbows, pressing your forehead against his. You heartbeat is quick and your rapid breaths fan across his face. 

His eyes darken at your pleas, the hazel hues appearing almost a light brown, "Fucking hell Y/N, you’re going to drive me insane.” He sits up on his knees, loosening his tie before undoing it completely and discarding it on the floor next to your bed. You bite your lip as you watch him undo the top three buttons of his shirt, his toned chest on display under it. 

Leaning back down, he presses a bruising kiss against your swollen lips. His hands wander to the thin straps of your dress, gently tugging until they slip off your shoulders, letting him tug your dress down until your breasts are exposed. His tongue against yours is unrelenting, marking every inch of your mouth as his.

Detaching himself from you, he buries his face into your neck, his cold lips incredibly soothing against your lust burned skin. You cry out when you feel his teeth softly sink into the skin of your pulsepoint, as he suckles on you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. 

"Zayne,” you gasp out, his tongue and teeth working in tandem to have your mind filled with nothing but his mouth on you, "Please.”

He trails down your neck and collar, inhaling you into his lungs at every opportunity. You feel his smile against your skin as he reaches your breasts, your nipples pebbled from the lust. He voice is muffled against you, "Please what, my love?”

"I…” you’re too mortified to say the things you want him to do, so the silence overtakes you. Unhappy with your hesitation, Zayne bites into the supple flesh above your pert nipple, eliciting a string of moans and squeals from you. He’s instantly using his tongue to soothe the pain away, quickly replacing it with waves of raw pleasure. 

Zayne lifts his head, staring at you expectantly, "I can’t continue if you don’t tell me what you want.”

His unrelenting teasing drives you to the edge of madness, your arousal evident by the way it leaks through your panties and your pantyhose. But you’re stubborn, still refusing to speak. 

"Good girls listen to their doctors don’t they?” He places fleeting kisses onto your goosebump riddled areolas, careful to purposefully neglect your increasingly sensitive nipples.

"Should doctors really be this intimate with their patients?” You retort like a brat, wanting to dish back all of his incessant teasing.  

He smiles at you, thoroughly amused at your insolence, "I suppose not, but am I really just your doctor?” With that he captures your waiting nipples into his mouth. You cry out at the incredible feeling of his cold lips on your breasts but his warm tongue on your nipple, your lower body thrusting up uncontrollably into his crotch. 

He groans into your chest as you brush against his throbbing erection, restricted by the confines of his pants. Against the heat of your womanhood, Zayne hardens impossibly further, feeling like he might actually explode against the constraint. The sounds of your pleasure and your cries for him make it difficult for him to concentrate.

Switching to your other nipple, Zayne uses one hand to undo his belt, letting it fall to the ground with his tie. He undoes the button and zipper his pants, yanking them down with such feral urgency. When his cock was finally free, he broke away from your chest, hissing in relief. You look down and you’re met with the realization of why he was in so much pain. 

Zayne was large. In a way that terrified you to your very core. You could imagine that the restraint of his briefs alone would be uncomfortable, painful even, when holding something like that back. 

Zayne catches your stare and he grips your chin between his fingers, guiding you to his eyes instead, "It’ll fit baby, don’t worry.”

You fight to keep your lip from quivering, trying not to get lost in his green eyes, "Will it?”

"I'll make it fit, but first let me prepare you love,” he says Matter-of-factly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. The certainty in his voice turns you unbelievably on and you find yourself needing to please him. Your hand seeks out his erection, grasping it firmly into your fingers.

He groans at the slightest touch, knees buckling into the bed beneath you. You start with languid and deliberate strokes, feeling every vein pulse under your fingers. Your thumb finds his large engorged head, already leaking with pre cum, feeling every smooth surface of his cock under your touch. While Zayne writhes on top of you, you revel in his glorious manhood, everything about it utterly perfect and terrifying.

As you touch him, Zayne leans into the crook of your shoulder, laying claim to your sensitive neck. He marks every inch of bare skin he can find, leaving a trail of red and wet bruises in his wake. 

Your entire palm is wet with his leaking arousal, as he moans so closely into your ear. Gently, he pries your palm away from him, sitting back up onto his knees, smirking satisfyingly down at the marks he’d left, "God, I've waited so long to have you.”

You reach down to shimmy out of your pantyhose and black evening dress, leaving you in your black lace thong, naked, willing, and pliant before him. You see him gulp harshly, his eyes hazy with need, and you sit up to level with him, "So take me Zayne.”

A low growl rips from his throat, as he pushes you back onto the bed, setting your head against your wooden headboard. Zayne tortures you, kissing down your collar, your chest, your naval, and finally down the soft mound of your pelvis. 

Zayne seems almost feral as he looks at your lace covered cunt and back up at you, "Did you really wear this for him?”

"N-no,” you whine, "I wouldn't have ever l-let him. He wasn't you.”

Zayne seems somewhat placated by your response, hooking his cold fingers into the waistband, his voice a low grumble, "That’s my good girl. No one will ever see you in or out of these, but me. Right?”

Your brain fogs over as he slips your soaked panties down your legs, his breath hitching seeing the string of clear slick clinging to your cunt. 

"Fuck.” He’s lost in his stares, in absolute awe of the meal before him, carving every single perfect centimeter into his memory. You squirm under his intense stare.

"Zayne please don’t make me wait anymore,” you wine, crying out as he bends down and his lips graze the apex of your slit. 

His voice is incredibly smug, "You are so beautiful when you beg for me.” You sigh in frustration as his lips and fingers continue to just barely graze your needy body. 

"Zayne, please,” your body thrusts into his, but he holds you back down, almost impatiently.

"Behave yourself, Y/N. You can do that for me, can’t you?” His voice is full of command, making you back down instantly, shivering at the suspense of his words.

"I didn't wait this long to have you just to rush all the things I want to do to you,” he all but purrs, as his lips find your soaking slit.

The room is filled with your lewd cries as Zayne’s tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your throbbing hole. As your doctor, Zayne knew the ins and outs of your body but you never expected him to know you like this. Like his tongue was designed for nothing else but to deliver you the most unimaginable pleasure in this world. 

Zayne groans when his tongue enters you for the first time, the quivers resonating straight to your core. His nose brushes against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, the vibrations of his own lust filled grunts bringing you closer to releasing all over his skilled mouth.

Your thighs clench against his face, and you almost worry you might suffocate him. You try to pry them away from him, but he only grips them with his strong hands, bringing them closer to his face, wanting nothing more than to be yours, wholly and irrevocably.

"You taste better than I ever imagined,” he moans out, staring into your eyes from between your legs. You blush at the filth of his words and the glistening slick smeared across his lips and chin.

"Did you – ahh hah – think about me often?” You tease between the sounds that spill out of your mouth uncontrollably.

He doesn’t answer, instead capturing your entire clit into his lips, sucking in earnest. You feel his smirk as you squeal out, hands digging into the fabric of your sheets and tugging hard. His hands knead your ass as he continues to eat, positively starved.

"Z-Zayne I-I can’t take much more,” you slur, your toes curling against his sides as he goes back to spearing his tongue in and out of you, using the tip of his nose to massage your clit, inhaling the smell of your arousal into his lungs.

"Yeah? Is my girl gonna make a mess for me?” He breathes into you, his hands reaching up to toy with your nipples. You cry in response, feeling the coil in your gut tightening beyond belief, the pleasure threatening to make you explode.

"Cum into my mouth love, let me taste you,” he whispers breathlessly into your cunt, slipping his middle finger inside of you, the wet sounds of his skin pounding into yours filling the room. You come done instantly, screaming as your back arches off the bed and you release all over Zayne’s waiting mouth, hands ripping at his soft hair. 

"That’s it baby, look at you cumming from just one finger,” he muses, working you through your orgasm with just his middle finger. You let out a stream of broken moans, unable to form any words.

"Fuck you’re this tight around just one of my fingers?” He murmurs before dipping back down to devour everything you give him. 

He laps up your spend eagerly and diligently, not letting a single drop go to waste. Refusing to relent against your twitching clit, Zayne devours you until the overstimulation lights your pussy on fire. He’s always had a sweet tooth and it looks like he’s found his absolute favorite dessert, unwilling to give it up any time soon.

"Such a messy girl,” he mumbles to himself, the clear strings of arousal sticking from your wet thighs to his chin. 

Your thighs tremble at the discomfort of overstimulation, doing your best to back away from him, "Mmm Zayne, s’too sensitive. No more, please.”

He relents reluctantly, looking utterly displeased with having his treat taken away. As he sits up, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans forward into you, tapping your lips with his thumb.

"Open,” he commands forcefully, bringing his soaked middle finger up to you. You part your lips obediently, welcoming the taste of you on his skin. His eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a deep heated moan at the feel of your tongue on him, tasting everything he got to taste. His cock literally felt like a ton of bricks needing to be pleased. 

Releasing his finger, you reach for his length again, "I-I want to make you feel good too.” 

Zayne presses his cold lips to yours, simultaneously undoing the buttons of his shirt. He pulls aways to shrug the clothing off his broad shoulders, giving you an eyeful of his glorious physique. He shivers, letting you jerk his erection up and down, but pushing you down when you try to get on your knees before him.

"Next time. We have all the time in the world,” he whispers, pushing you against the headboard, holding your cheek in his large hand, "But right now I need to be inside you.”

The smoldering fire in his eyes makes your mouth dry, and you nod meekly. The promise of a ‘next time’ is enough to have you ready for him again. Your cunt still quivered, recovering from your previous orgasm, but pooling at the hoarse need in his tone. 

As your head lays on a pillow against the headboard of your bed, Zayne lifts you from the small of your back and shoves another pillow behind you, so that you’re elevated towards him, served on a silver platter.

"Spread your legs for me,” he growls, the urgency in his voice leaving little room to protest. And so you obey, widening your legs for him, watching as he admires the area between your thighs like it was 

His hand reaches to cup you, clit caught against his palm and fingers toying with your hole, "Who does this belong to?” 

But you can’t hear him through the searing pleasure of his touch against your over sensitive body, the blood pounding in your ears like drums. Looking at where his hand meets your body, you cry out at his ministrations against you, your thighs trembling in shivers. 

With his free hand Zayne grabs your chin, slipping his thumb into your mouth, harshly forcing your eyes to his, "Don’t look away. Be a good girl and answer me.”

Although his words are driven with lust, they remind you of the emotional turmoil you’d been weathering because of your feelings for the man in front of you.

"M’yours Zayne, always been yours,” tears well in your eyes and you hope he can understand the weight behind your words, behind all the lust and arousal filled craze. 

Zayne stares back at you, and his eyes hold an entire galaxy of emotions that match the colors of his irises: desire, devotion, awe…and love. 

"And I am yours,” his words strike your heart and you lean up to slot your mouth against his. As he kisses you, he lines up his thick length with your cunt, teasing your clit with his engorged tip, his pre cum mixing with your spend that still leaked out from your prior climax. You cried into his open mouth at his teases, your back arching off the pillow and further into his cock. At your movement, his head catches onto your throbbing and waiting hole, eliciting a deep grunt from him. 

He pulls away, groaning, "So impatient, you want it that bad?” You whimper, burying your face into his neck and latching onto his pulse point to save yourself from having to answer. 

"P-please…” you whisper into his ear. He groans, fishing through the pocket of his pants as he pulls them off of his legs. 

"Please what, love?” He smirks at you, pulling his wallet out, now just in his briefs pulled down to let his massive erection free. 

You gulp, staring at the way he stands so proudly against his naval, reaching comfortably to his belly button. His girth rivals that of at least three of your fingers.

The rustling of plastic snaps you out of your shameless ogling. Zayne places a condom packet between his teeth, tearing it with one hand. You gulp at the sight of him, but you protest, "I–i um,” you clear your throat, trying to work up the courage to vocalize what you want, "You don’t have to use that.”

Zayne’s dark eyes catch yours, and the edge in his voice is dangerous, a warning, "Don’t tempt me. I need to protect you.”

Your face burns as you try again., "W-what I mean is, well as my doctor you know I'm clean.” You do your best to stop your voice from wavering, "And I-I um I'm on the pill.”

Zayne’s eyebrows quirk as his irises darken with heat, "How come I didn't know that?

"I’ve been using an online service for a few months,” you say sheepishly, "S-so you don’t have to use that.”

Zayne catches on, a satisfied smirk gracing his features, "Is that so?” He teases his entire length on your slit, practically fucking you along the lips of your womanhood. Using his swollen tip, he taps your clit forcefully, eliciting a throaty yelp from you.

"Tell me what you want.” You shiver at the pure feral domineer in his voice.

"P-please Zayne, I want it. I need it.”

"What do you need baby?” 

You groan in frustration, but give into his demands, "I-I need you Zayne, need you inside. Need it so bad.” The way you can see his breath hitch in his throat fills you with confidence, so you lean closer until your bottom lip brushes against his, "Need to feel you inside, please Zayne.”

His jaw locks as he grits out forcefully, "I will give you everything.”

Zayne holds his cock with one hand, lining it up with your entrance. His other hand grips the wooden beams of your bed frame, "Can you take it Y/N?”

If you’re being completely honest, you’re not sure you can. Though you weren’t a virgin, you had never even seen a man so large, let alone attempted. But at Zayne’s expectant expression, you nod eagerly, "Y-yes I can, I-I can try.”

"Good girl,” he mutters, before sinking himself into you. The stretch is so much worse than you imagined it would be, practically splitting you in half. You squealed, clawing at his biceps as he did his best to enter you. Feeling so incredibly stuffed, you look down only to see he’s barely just gotten his tip inside.

The vein in Zayne’s forehead throbs as his jaw slackens, a string of swears leaving his lips, "Jesus you’re like a vice down there. I need you to loosen up love, or else I'll never be able to get inside.”

You pant against him, not knowing what to do but to watch the way he stares intently at your tummy. The heat and desire in his expression arouses you beyond belief, and you unconsciously squeeze your velvet walls in excitement. 

Zayne’s knuckles turn white as he grips the headboard for support, the veins in his forearms bulging as he groans out, "Fuck baby please. Are you trying to squeeze it off?”

"Sorry, m’sorry. S’too big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders for support. The stretch is nothing like you’ve ever felt, and you don’t know if you can take much more than what’s already inside you. "Z-Zayne it’s too big I c-can’t,” you pant, doing your best to relax and loosen up your muscles. 

"You can, you’re doing so good for me Y/N,” Zayne huffs out, pushing deeper into you, the slick from your forming arousal and his pre cum starting to make the stretch easier. The drag of his cock against your gummy walls starts to feel so torturously delicious, like your body was made to take him in. 

Finally, he eases into you, eyes unable to look away from where your bodies connected.

"If you could see how – hah – beautiful you look like this, spread out for me,” he grunts, being as gentle as he can manage, when all he wanted was to ram into your warm and tight cunt, squeezing him so tightly. 

"Been waiting for the day I could – shit – finally be inside you. Drove me fucking insane thinking about you and Matthew.”

His words are enough to have you leaking all over your joined bodies, the slick dampening his pelvis and your thighs. As he seats himself in you as deeply as he can, his tip brushing against your womb, he lets out a shaky breath of ecstasy.

"Is this what you – hah – thought about? When you were with another man?” His words are claiming, making butterflies explode in your gut and your cunt to flutter around him. You can only moan and drool as his body thuds into yours, over and over. 

"Sweetest little princess cunt I've ever felt,” he swears, languidly withdrawing from you before pushing back in, knocking the breath out of you. With your head leaning against the back of your bed frame you can see every second of his glistening length burrowing in and out of you, like it absolutely owned you. 

"Z-Zayne,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders, "Please.” You don’t know exactly what you’re begging for, but you can’t stop the words from coming. 

"Hah, if you want something you have to – fuck – ask for it love,” he pants, doing his best not to get lost in the pure pleasure of finally getting to be inside you.

His words send you reeling, the ecstasy increasing with each deliberate and hard drag. You fight through the fucked out haze, vision blurred from your hooded lids, "Hah - harder please.”

At your request Zayne stutters for a brief second, your cunt squeezing so tight he could barely move, "Anything for you.” 

With his hand clutching the frame, he uses his other hand to rub harsh circles onto your swollen clit. His pelvis smacks against your thighs and ass so hard that the bed posts knock into the wall repeatedly, the skin slapping sounds mixing with the sounds of the wood against the plaster. 

At the added stimulation your eyes roll into your brain, your eyelids weighing down heavily. Zayne leans in until his chest presses against your breasts, your breaths heaving in tandem. His eyes follow yours, forcing you to hold eye contact with every deep thrust into your soul. Against your will, your eyelids flutter as the pleasure starts to overcome your fighting consciousness.

You can vaguely make out Zayne’s smirk, as his hand leaves the frame to cup your chin in his palm, "Don’t tell me you’re already worn out, love.” His fingers flick against your clit.

You yelp out, nails digging into his back with one hand while the other hand smacks his shoulder gently. You pout, "You’re so mean to me.”

He leans down to kiss your shoulder, his pace never faltering. He chuckles against your skin, "But you can take it, right? You always take me so well.” The double meaning of his words makes you clench in excitement, the praise making your chest tighten.

He groans as you clench down onto him, threatening to make him blow, "Hah so fucking tight. You like that huh baby? You like it when I praise you?” He thumbs your clit with more intensity, wanting to see you come absolutely undone for him.

You bite your lip to keep from screaming, nodding eagerly in response to his words. Zayne’s thrusts only grow in intensity, as if he’s trying to reach your esophagus from your cunt. You’re a mess of uncontrollable moans and mewls, unable to stop your eyes from rolling back and your tongue from hanging out as he fucked you into oblivion.

"Look at you,” he grins arrogantly, voice husky with desire and raw possessiveness, "Going on a date with my intern just to end up with my cock stuffed in you.”

You whine at his words, simultaneously not wanting to think about Matthew but also being so turned on by the dominating undertone of his words. His fingers abandon your clit, much to your disappointment, to trace the bulge his cock makes in your tummy. His other hand pulls your chin down so you can watch him.

"Look how deep I am, love,” he grunts. You watch in awe as the small bump in your stomach  bulges and disappears with the rhythm of Zayne’s thrusts. With every withdrawal, Zayne’s impressive cock glistens with slick, the throbbing veins bulging enough to make you drool. Absolutely entranced, you fit your hand under his to stroke at his cock as it pushed through your tummy.

Zayne swears as you caress his cock through the bump in your tummy, throwing his head back to catch his breath. His hand goes back to paw at your clit, trying to stop himself from blowing his load into you right there.  

As the climax builds in your gut, you throb around his impossibly hardened length spearing in and out of you, to which he twitches inside of you. The sounds of your combined whimpers and grunts, the lewd smacks of his damp slick dampened skin against yours, and the bed slamming against the wall overwhelm your brain until you can only think about Zayne, his cock inside you, and the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

"Zayne, I-I’m close,” you cry, hand abandoning your stomach to loop around his neck, digging your nails into his damp skin.

"Fuck – I know love, I can feel you trying to squeeze it out of me,” he grunts, body slamming into yours so hard that your body smacks against the headboard.

"I’m gonna – gonna cum,” you cry, nails digging into the taut muscles of his back.

"No,” he demands, and you do your best not to gape at him. He gasps through his next strokes, "Be a good girl and wait for me. I want to feel you finish all over me when I cum inside you.”

"O-okay,” you say, but you’re honestly unsure if you’ll be able to wait, the waves of pleasure crashing into you so roughly it threatens to overtake you right then and there.

"That’s my girl,” gripping your chin, Zayne leans in to kiss you again, his tongue claiming your warm and waiting mouth. Your eyes squeeze shut and your body tenses as you try to quell the raging tides of the impending climax, moaning endlessly into Zayne’s mouth.

You pull away to breathe, your lungs needing as much oxygen as possible to withstand the ecstasy. Zayne’s hand grips the wooden beams above your bed again, his knuckles turning white as he watches the pleasure contort your beautiful face. 

"I-I can’t – ”

"You can, baby. I’m – hah – almost there, just hold on a little longer for me,” he grunts. The pleasure and pain of his edging threatens to knock you unconscious, but you nod and throw your head back as your eyes roll backwards again.

Through your fucked out haze you can vaguely see a strange icy sheen forming on the wooden beams of your bed’s headboard. You follow the path of luminous crystals and realize they’re forming from Zayne’s hand that grips against the frame so tightly his knuckles are pale and taut, as he comes closer to exploding inside you. 

Unable to shake yourself out of the pleasure, you can’t find the words to warn Zayne. You continue to watch in awe as the beautiful iridescent flakes frost over the dull old wood. His palm is covered in a layer of snow white frost, the tiny snowflakes dancing around his skin as it grips the furniture so forcefully. You realize he’s losing control of his evol, because of you. And the idea of that threatens to push you head first into your second orgasm of the night.

It happened so fast. As Zayne bullies himself in and out of you, thrusting as if his life depended on it, the wooden beams of your headboard cracks in his hand, the wood turning brittle against his icy evol, and shattering under the force of his bruising grip. 

Zayne shields your body with his own as frozen wooden splinters fly everywhere, his thrusts stuttering as the sound of cracking wood pierces the air. You can tell he’s scared, constantly worried about losing control of his evol around you like this. His hands clasp together, massaging his wrists and trying to calm the unpredictable storm of his evol. You can feel him about to pull away, to get away from you and keep you safe.

You hug him close to you as he tries to pull away not wanting him to stop, not caring the least bit about the splintering wood falling into your hair. The worry and disgust with himself is evident in his eyes, and it tears at your heart so you do your best to comfort him, "S’okay Zayne, it’s not a big deal, I promise.”

But his eyes are far away, thick with emotions that make your chest lurch. You hold his face in  your hands trying to get him to look at you and not the splintered mess of furniture above you. You lock your knees around his waist. "Zayne baby,” you soothe gently, "Look at me. Look at me please.”

His frantic eyes meet yours under the guidance of your palms. You watch as the storm in his eyes calms down ever so slightly when they meet yours. You brush your thumb against his cheek, whispering, "Don’t stop, please. M’so close. I need you.” 

But Zayne is hesitant, only filled with worry for you, his thrusts halting altogether but still thick and solid in you. His jaw clenches down, "Did I hurt you?”

"Not at all,” you reassure, hand stroking his anguish laced face, "I don’t care, please make me cum Zayne, want to cum for you s’bad.”

Zayne continues his thrusts slowly, trying to shake away his anger at himself, "Hah – I'm so sorry Y/N, I'll buy you a new one, okay?”

"Y-yes whatever you want, but please just fuck me,” you plead, not wanting your climax to slip through your fingers, "Please don’t stop.” 

Your begging is enough to have Zayne going feral again, slowly regaining the vigor in his thrusts. His hand dusts the wooden fragments away from your hair. Your head sinks deep into the pillow, and falls back to peer at the gaping hole in your bed frame, slightly in awe of his sheer primal strength. It honestly turned you on unbelievably, edging you closer and closer. 

"Zayne I c-can’t wait anymore, m’sorry m’cumming,” you wail, your nails digging through his back as the ecstasy explodes in your body, from the tips of your curled toes to your fucked out brain. Your walls flex against Zayne’s vigorous thrusts as he continues to chase his own high, briefly forgetting about the furniture he’d ruined in his brief slip of control. 

Your eyes pull away from the snowflakes melting on the splintered headboard and fixate on Zayne’s eyes as your vision spots with fireworks, his cock pistoning in and out of you relentlessly. 

He lifts your thighs up until they press against his chest, your muscles aching in protest. Your ankles rest on his shoulders as he drives himself into your guts at this angle. He leans down and your body screams at the stretch in your muscles but he hits you so deeply like this you can’t feel anything but pleasure. He hits your g spot at every thrust, your body barely recovering from the previous orgasm as he steers you straight into another. 

"Sh-shit,” he groans, his eyes hooded as they bore into yours, "Squeezing me so fucking tight, are you trying to milk me? If you keep clenching down like that I'm gonna – fuck!” He swears at your nails digging into his broad back, dragging deep scratches into him as he fucks you roughly through the pleasure. 

"P-please Zayne I want to feel you,” you cry, "Cum inside me, please.” As Zayne pounds into you with no semblance of mercy, stars blur your vision, your body doing your best to accommodate him and the endless waves of overwhelming ecstasy. Your wet release splashes against your skin with every thrust of his hard muscular body. 

"F-fuck I'm gonna cum so deep inside you baby,” he groans with his eyes intently staring into yours, "This pussy is all mine.”

"You’re mine,” his voice is intense, a primal growl of urge and possessiveness, claiming you as his with both words and with his body. He bends back down, pressing a wet open mouthed kiss into you, tongue intertwining with yours needily. Both his hands threads through your hair, tugging gently as he rocks into you. He groans into your mouth, body shuddering as he finally releases into you.

Zayne rips away from your lips to rock onto his knees before you and carry you onto his lap, wanting to be able to hold you as close as possible as he emptied rope after rope inside of you. The angle allowed him to literally fuck his spend up into you. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands around his neck, unable to even squeal at the sudden movement, only able to drool out against the crook of his neck. 

His spend is so deliciously hot inside of you, as your pussy quivers at the warmth, squeezing him even more. He forces his tongue into you again, wanting to be attached to you in every way as he pumps every thick rope into your waiting womb. As he tugs on your bottom lip, body still pressed on top of your legs, cock hitting your sweetest spots, you release all over him again.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your cunt pulsates uncontrollably, pulling more and more of his essence into you. Zayne’s thick muscles shake under you, the waves of his orgasm rocking his entire body into yours.  

You pant as his bounces slow, his unending stamina finally coming to a halt as his sweaty chest heaves against your trembling breasts. He presses gentle kisses to the deep hickeys he’d marked onto your skin, using his broad hands to caress your bruise splotched throat.

The sound of satisfied pants and soft moans blankets the two of you as you snuggle into him, never wanting this moment of post sex bliss to end. Your collective spend begins to leak down onto Zayne’s lap, your poor cunt physically unable to hold the copious amount of spend inside of you. 

As his member softens it begins to slip out of you uncomfortably, so you squeeze in an effort to keep him in you as long as physically possible. 

Zayne swears, his eyes heated and his gentle grip on your throat tightening just slightly, as he warns you darkly, "Behave. Unless you want me to take you again.”

And though the idea of him bringing you to orgasm again, and many times after, sounds like heaven on earth, you don’t think your poor cunt can possibly handle any more pleasure for tonight. He chuckles when you ease up, stroking the curvature of your naked spine with his icy fingers. 

"I’m sorry about your bed, my love,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, falling softly backwards onto the bed and guiding you down with him until you rested on top of his hard muscular body, his softening erection still nuzzled deep inside you. He’s careful to lay the two of your joined bodies away from the destroyed headboard, holding your head protectively against his chest.  "I will buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

His free hand roams every inch of your body, from twirling the strands of your hair to gripping the supple flesh of your rear. 

"S’okay Zayne, it’s not necessary,” you murmur sleepily, tracing the contours of his taut muscles, "I don’t need a new frame.” Honestly the idea of Zayne breaking your bed in pure primal lust was enough to have the heat collecting back in between your thighs. 

"I would rather you take me on a date,” you smile into his skin, "Since you ruined the one I had today.”

Zayne chuckles, the sound so warm and beautiful to your ears you think you might melt right into his solid frame, "I suppose I did. Will you let me take you out tomorrow?”

You lean up so that your chin rests on his chest and you can peer at him through your lashes, giving him your best begging face, "Only if you beg.” 

He looks up at you, the amused lopsided smile on his face just begging to be wiped off, "Please? Let me take you to dinner.” He lifts your chin off his chest with his index finger, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He smirks when you shiver at his fleeting touch, watching you bend to his very will.

"And then after…” he trails off, fingers leaving your face to trace against the side of your exposed breasts, and up to your hard nipples. You bite your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of moaning out. 

As he incessantly fiddles with your skin, you finish his thought with a joke, "After you can come destroy my new bed frame too.”

Zayne’s eyes darken with mischief and amusement, "You shouldn't write checks your body can’t cash, my love.”

The filthy promise in his words coupled with his cold fingers pressed deliciously into your pebbled peaks rip the whimper you’d been holding back out of your lips, your cunt clenching in anticipation despite your crippling exhaustion.

But it seems Zayne knows your body as well as you do. "But for tonight, just sleep,” he mumbles into the top of your head, pressing his lips into your hair. 

"Mmm stay here with me, please,” you murmur into his chest, letting the sleep take root in your pleasure numbed mind. 

"I'll be here when you wake up,” he reassures, his voice falling deeper and rougher with exhaustion and hands shifting to cover your bodies with your comforter. His hands then wrap around your waist, holding your body against this, as if scared you’d disappear from his arms. "I won’t ever leave you.” 

Your heart flutters as the unconsciousness claims you. "G’night Zayne,” you mumble, kissing his chest.

"Good night my love.”

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.

[dollwrites]

ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ʀᴀғᴀʏᴇʟ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!bff!reader, sex toys mentioned but not used, noise control, dub con technically ( for him… kinda TRUST THE PROCESS ) prank gone wrong for reader lol, creampie, has absolutely no spoilers or deep lore, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. HAPPY 4/20! i was gonna do some dizzy drabbles but i couldn’t get this out of my head. not proofread ( and written when i was in the clouds ) so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

what had started out as a fun prank on your best friend for revenge ended with you completely at his mercy, unbeknownst to him.

picking up around the studio wasn’t something you did too often, considering it a breach of Rafayel’s privacy, but when you got there and he wasn’t home, you let yourself inside like you usually did. you were about an hour early, anyways. you hadn’t taken two steps when you stumble over a pile of crumpled sketch paper. you scrunched your brows as you gazed around your environment. scattered brushes, broken pencils, and a canvas half-painted in the middle of the floor. you sighed; perhaps Rafayel had hit a wall with his muse and had gone for a walk on the beach. the least you could do for him, you’d decided, was to clean up a bit. after all, a clean space is a productive space, right?

that was when you came across it, left carelessly on his bed, swaddled in a sea of white sheets and the comforter. you’d never seen one in real life until this moment, and at first you mistook it for a woman asleep in his bed with her butt sticking out of the blankets— but, it was fake. a plump, nearly life sized ass sitting atop the mattress.

does Rafayel really use something like this?

you found your cheeks heated up with embarrassment when you pictured him mounting it, both of his smooth palm against the cheeks, svelte digits digging into the silicone to spread it open wide enough for him to push inside…

shaking your head to snap yourself out of the fantasy, you look around, making sure no one was around to see you get lost in your own desire for him. “S—stupid.” you muttered to yourself, stepping closer to touch the fleshiest part of it. surprisingly soft, as soft as your own skin. your brow quirks, fingers sliding to the waistband of a pair of cerulean, lace panties that adorned the faux lower body. it seemed so strange to have clothes on something that was meant to stay hidden and used in private, as if the silicone slab had been laid out meticulously…

no, Rafayel didn’t use this for his own pleasure, you decided. this was a prank. an elaborate one, but one meant to fluster you when you came over.

he was such an ass!

“Oh yeah?” you challenge under your breath, grasping the panties and tugging them off of the toy, “You want to play games? I can play, too.” determined to outprank Rafayel, you toss the panties on the bed and stash the toy beneath the bed. it was surprisingly heavy, and made a splat when it hit the surface of the floor, you had to stifle a chuckle as just hilarious this was. you didn’t want him to win, even if he wasn’t there to see it. quickly unbuttoning your pants, you discard them and the panties you were wearing, kicking them under the bed, too. then, you grab the cerulean lace and pull them on— perfect fit! you took a moment to glance in a nearby mirror, turning slightly. your ass had a similar curve and complexion, and you hoped it was enough to fool him, at least long enough for you to scare him when he least expected it. then, you climb into the bed, scrupulous as you nest your top half under a pile of blankets, the pillows resting on the top of your shoulders to hide your head. there was also the issue with your legs. it took a great amount of wrapping sheets around your thighs as you kick and squirm, before you’re finally perfectly positioned— identical to the way he’d left the fake ass, your own sticks out as if inviting him, as you wait for him to return.

at first, it had been difficult to keep yourself from jittering, too excited to see the look on his face when you jump out, effectively one-upping his lewd joke. but, as the minutes ticked on, with your entire body hidden within his bedding, you’d started to sweat, breathing in the dense air trapped under the pillows with you, and you had to readjust several times. it took so long that you were just about to give up on the prank and unbury yourself, before you heard the door open.

showtime.

you felt knots of excitement tying themselves together in your belly as you willed yourself to be as still as possible, and appear as the lifeless, silicone toy.

you could hear him moving about the studio, sighing, and your heart was starting to beat faster in your ears— you hoped that he would hurry to his room, so you could reveal yourself soon, and you could get out from under this suffocating duvet.

when he’d stepped into the bedroom, you hear the door close behind him, and you have to physically keep yourself from kicking your feet in excitement. it was almost time to scare the living daylights out of your best friend. your muscles tighten, ready to jump up, but a sound abruptly stops you.

a zipper.

you freeze, listening silently to the sound of rusting fabric. soft thuds as he kicked out of his shoes, and a whoosh that follows towards the floor.

was he undressing?

your eyes widen only when you hear a heavy breath, followed by the click of a cap. squeezing, then a low moan coming from behind you. it was Rafayel. your eyes widen. you’d never heard such a sound from his mouth, and you had a pretty good idea of what he was doing. the subtle skin slapping that started slow, but sped up shortly after, his breath getting heavier simultaneously. you realized how wrong it was to hear Rafayel pleasuring himself, especially when he didn’t know that you were there. you should really say something, open your mouth and let him know that he wasn’t alone, but when your lips parted, you couldn’t force any sound from it. you were too stunned by these sounds to give him any kind of warning. you listen, mouth agape and eyes big, staring into the headboard of his bed as he takes a few steps towards the foot of it. your mind races, realizing that he had not placed the toy on his bed for you to find it—

this had not been a toilet-humor prank that he was putting together. he simply hadn’t had the time to hide his private toys before you stumbled upon them.

to solidify this revelation, you feel one hand tracing over the shape of your ass. his fingers were warm and slick, and you nearly gasped, sealing your lips just in time for his digits to curl around the panties and tug on them, inching down your thighs. he would definitely discover you were disguising yourself as the toy when he couldn’t take them all the way off, and that thought was equally humiliating and comforting. you didn’t exactly love the idea of him finding out now, after exposing your cunt to him, and now that you’d gotten an earful of him jerking off, but at least things wouldn’t go further. Rafayel doesn’t, however, try to pull the panties down completely. instead, he seems content to leave them around your thighs, and his fingers trace upwards, slowly and skillfully, until they trace your netherlips, slathering your sex in what had to be lube, cool and wet.

oh, god. your top teeth sink into your lower lip as his fingertips swipe full laps between your folds. the pads rub against your most sensitive nub, leaving it throbbing and begging for more attention before they drag downwards, teasing your opening. he didn’t seem to notice that your cunt spasms, attempting to clamp down on his fingers, before they run another lap. he lets out a heavy breath, the sound of his palm smacking against his abdomen as he fucks his own hand in tandem to the way he was unknowingly teasing your pussy making your head spin.

this was so wrong.

you had to tell him right now.

your tiers part once more, this time determined to stop this before—

the swollen, slippery head of Rafayel’s cock rubs against your slit. one hand covers your mouth to keep any sound, words or otherwise, from escaping as you realize that it’s too late to expose yourself now. you’d look like a total creep, taking advantage of your best friend by pretending to be his sex toy. “Huh—uhh…” Rafayel emitted a low moan as he rubbed his dick against you a few more times, before planting one palm on your ass, the other holding tight to his base as he plunged inside.

it took all you had within you to not let out a cry of surprise at the sudden entry. your free hand grips the sheet so tightly you fear your nails will rip holes in it, and your toes curl beneath the mattress. Rafayel had been under the impression that he could be as rough as he wanted, because the pussy was nothing but a silicone replica, and so his rhythm was steady, deep pumping almost immediately upon bottoming out in your guts. “Fuck,” he breathes out, hips thumping against your ass, both hands grasping at it. “F—feels good… yeah,”

he was right about that, and you wished you could vocalize it. your walls fluttered about in delight as he pounded into you, his cock was longer than you’d thought it would be, the tip bold in its deep exploration, prodding against your g-spot with every, full thrust of his hips. you fought the urge to bounce back, meet his movements with equally eager grinding. instead, your eyes began to roll and your lids flittered, and the grip on your own mouth tightened to keep any of your stifled mewls and whimpers from escaping. you couldn’t, however, keep from gushing when he hit the perfect depth with his fervent stroking, and you could only hope that his thorough drenching you in lubrication would be enough to mask this.

you could hear him panting, moaning, swearing, as he fucked you with reckless abandon. his fingers digging into your warm, satin skin, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you. it was as if you felt every, single vein as they rub your walls, autographing your insides, claiming them as his as he uses you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…!”

he was getting louder, his hips bucking more powerfully, more erratically, and the throbbing in your core was a testament to just how close to cumming he was.

you knew how wrong this was, but all rational thinking was dissipating; you were enjoying being fucked like this; greedy, careless pounding, by your closest friend too much to ruin it, now. you didn’t want to stop it, not until he was fully satiated.

“F—fuck, yeah,” Rafayel swoons, grabbing full fists of your ass, pulling your ass back to meet his hungry hip-snapping, “more, more, more!”

you couldn’t take much more, and you push your face into the mattress to keep quiet, both hands scrambling to hold on to something, squeezing the edge of the mattress with your nails sinking in— anything to relieve the pressure he was forcing as deep into you as he could. your feet wanted to kick, your back wanted to arch, and you wanted to scream out in pure pleasure, so you clung to the bed as tightly as you could in hopes that you could ride out the orgasm he was ripping from you.

he didn’t even seem to notice your twitching and subtle squirming beneath the blankets as he made you drop off and come undone, which you were thankful for, because he was too caught up in chasing his own high. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!” Rafayel was sputtering, desperately trying to get there, pressing all of his weight against your ass as he pumps a few more, deep and hard, thrusts into you before he grunts, and releases. as if he’d been pent up for quite a while, you felt a spattering of warmth, and then it spreads as he fills your belly with his essence. you nearly lose it in this moment, and almost blow your cover, your walls clamping down on his cock as he starts to retract. it felt so good to be full of Rafayel that you didn’t want him to pull out, but he does so with a ragged moan. there’s an uncomfortable emptiness that follows his abandoning of your cunt, the feeling of being fucked deep and left there, your oblivious best friend’s cum dribbling out of your used pussy as it twitches and your muscles stay tense. you knew you were leaving a small puddle on his sheets below you, but you could hear him milling around the room instead of focusing on you, now.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself, and you his phone unlock, then the rapid-fire tapping of his fingers on the keys. was he… texting?

you were answered when you heard the faint vibrating of your phone in your pants pocket, hidden under the bed. he texted you?! at first, you think he must’ve heard it, because everything went silent, and you waited for him to start shouting, but he doesn’t.

a few moments later, the door opens, and his footsteps fade as he swaggers down the corridor, satiated, and a moment later, you hear the shower turn on.

for the first time in several minutes, your muscles relax for a moment, before you swim out from your heated prison in a hurry, scrambling under the bed to grab your phone. every move you made, you could feel his release swirling around inside you and dribbling down your thighs, and you groan at the sensation, and the trail you made before you pulled the panties up to keep any more from leaving evidence. staring at the screen, panting and fucked out, your eyes barely focusing, you read the message in disbelief.

just woke up so i’m running late. stop on the way and buy lunch or something i’m starving

liar.

but you didn’t have time to dwell on the message; you get dressed as quickly as you can, what with your legs trembling like shaken jelly and your insides sore from Rafayel’s eager plowing, and hoist the fake butt back into place on top of the bed. you had to make a stealthy exit before he got out of the shower. stuffing your own panties into your pocket, you decide the best way to avoid an even stickier mess on his floor that would certainly be noticeable, you had to wear the panties meant for the doll. you could only pray he didn’t realize they’d gone missing right away, and later today when you could sneak away to the bathroom, you’d put them back in place.

so, stumbling and trying to catch your breath, freshly fucked, you leave through the sliding back door, the one that faces the shoreside, and closes it behind you to complete your escape.

once outside, you exhale deeply, lean against his car, hidden from windows’ views, to evaluate the damage, beyond the mess of him in your panties. you groan, covering your face with both hands in belated guilt.

you could never, ever tell him about this!

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i  convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns.  while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

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From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D 

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

[transmascaraa]

multiple characters headcannons!

how are they when you tell them you're tired and ask them to carry you?

characters: lyney, wanderer, gaming, neuvillette, wriothesley x gn!reader

author's note: FIRST TIME WRITING MORE CHARACTERS IN ONE WOOHOO 🙌 🎉 anyways i hope you guys like this one<3 i tried to include chars that everyone loves, and chars that i love myself and stuff so yeah i'll try and see if it works out(i'll continue doing these either way)

⑅ Lyney

-he's the type to look at you surprisingly. you??? asking HIM to carry you? he'd be flustered for a bit, and then try to act confident again.

-like "oh, of course, mon amour! come here!..."

-he's strong enough, but he would STILL be worried. he would overthink so so sooo much.

-what if he drops you? well, he won't. he's just an overthinker.

-and when he'd finally pick you up, bridal style because he's the most comfortable like that, he would start sweating.

-but of course, masking it all with some "confidence". so the two of you ended up in either one of these situations:

-one, it was quiet with him smiling at you half of the time. not being able to talk because he was so happy.

-two, he'd end up talking to you about some nonsense or his magic shows, not wanting it to be too awkward or too quiet for you.

-either way, thank him in the end. he'll be jumping over clouds because he managed to help you in some way.

-just keep praising him, he'll be all over you. he's a complete simp for you like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✯ Wanderer

-he's the tsundere. you'd ask him and he'd look at you with such a disgusted look as if you just told him you eat dirt and cement for breakfast. again, with his sassy attitude.

-"ME? to carry YOU? because you're "tired"? yeah. that won't work on me." turning his head away from you, fighting the urge to just surrender.

-but of course, his ego was too big. but not until you started showing clear signs that you were tired. he gave you a few glances, "side-eyes", before stopping and looking at you. looking at you as if he was waiting for something.

-you'd just say "nothing." which would make him even more angry. at that, he just rolled his eyes and said "oh, shut up." before taking you in his arms and continuing to walk with you in silence.

-if you mentioned a single thing about that EVER, you would basically be asking for punishment (whichever type of it lol).

-just say a little "thank you" after you're done and let him quietly mutter that "you're welcome".

-he was glad he got to be close to you like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✿ Gaming

-now HE would be VERY happy to help. you'd ask and in a single second he'd be picking you up. he just loves you that much.

-"i'm more than happy to do so, my love~!" smiling brightly at you.

-he couldn't be more happy, he was close to you, he was hold you in his arms, what more could he ask for? especially because you're tired, he would be so nice to you when you got home. he's a real gentleman when it comes to love.

-while he walked like that with you in his arms, the two of you would chit-chat and talk about random things, just making sure you're not bored. or maybe, if you preferred silence, he would stay quiet, whatever makes you happy<3

-after a bit of more walking, he would take care of you at home, letting you rest for a bit, and making your favorite food with your favorite drink.

-he just wanted you happy. to see you smile.

-and then, during dinner time, discussing some more random topics, or just him ranting about his next performance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

๑ Neuvillette

-he would be so sweet. trust me. so sweet and gentle with you. you're tired? he's there to help. you want him to carry you? no problem. you'd ask him and he'd not slowly, smiling fainly at you, even blushing a bit.

-"let me help you." and he'd pick you up.

-finally, after he's got you in his arms, and he continues walking, it's going to be so peaceful. if you want to talk, sure, he will talk. but since you're with him, the silence couldn't be more peaceful.

-listening to the birds chirping in the background, or maybe even the townspeople talking about some things, it was peaceful nonetheless.

-it was very calm. and at some point, he would start humming some melody. compliment him. he'll blush but he'll be extremely thankful, and will definitely hum next time you take a walk around fontaine.

-and when you get home, he'd make you rest and give you some cuddles, hoping that you would "recharge" that way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

◉ Wriothesley

-he wouldn't make much of a reaction, and treat it like it's an everyday thing, but tease you occasionally, of course. as soon as you asked, he just said:

-"okay." and looked at you for a few seconds before taking you in his arms. you'd tell him "thank you" already then and there and he'd just nod and say "mhmm."

-but... for the rest of the walk, he'll be winking at you and giving you teasing smirks.

-oh how you wanted to punch him.

-and after getting home, when he puts you down, you'd say "thank you" and then give him a playful angry look.

-to which he would reply with yet ANOTHER teasing grin. "you're welcome."

-he would tease you A LOT. but still, don't worry, he'll still take good care of you.

-value his teasing. actually, you can hit him if you want to. it won't hurt him that much anyway, he has the muscles.

-but it'll be impossible to be mad at him for too long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I ACTUALLY REALLY LIKE THIS.

it's pretty good tbh

TELL ME IF YOU WANT MORE AND YOU CAN ALSO SUGGEST CHARACTERS😋😋

edit1: STOPPPP Y'ALL THIS IS MY MOST FAMOUS PIECE OF WORK IT'S AT 395 NOTES RN😭😭🫶

edit2: bro it's at 1k💀

edit3: i love you guys sm ty all for 1.2k😭

[iiotic]

Uuu~ saw ur request open, Here a crack request if you want to write,(Wriothesley,Cyno,Childe and maybe Xiao?) S/o confidently said they "could take them in a fight" yes, saying that even after knowing how strong they are, wonder how they would react, would they play along let s/o beat them or just prove s/o's statement wrong lol

"I COULD TAKE YOU IN A FIGHT!"

summary: how'd wriothesley, cyno, childe and xiao react to their s/o saying that they could take them in a fight?

tw: slightly angst on xiaos part, slightly suggestive on wriothesleys part? ? lowercase intended, gn reader. | wc: 0.5k

thank you sm for your request anon!! I actually rlly enjoyed writing this!! also I wrote this late at night so not proff read and might not make sense. its also the first time I write for wriothesley and childe and I hope they're not too out of character <//3

── ꒰wriothesley. ｡˚ ꒱

"sure you could babe" he'd say smoothly, looking at you from his papers. he smirked seeing you momentally caught off guard, then quickly regaining your composure.

"do you think i'm joking? im 100% serious." you huffed, seeing his expression. "we can fight right here, right now and I'd win!" you said a bit louder than expected, confidence radiating out of you.

he chuckled slightly as he saw you walking towards him. "oh no i totally believe you, but i must admit i didn't know what kind of fight you meant at first." he pulled you on his lap when you were close enough.

wait.. what did he mean by- oh..

── ꒰cyno. ｡˚ ꒱

"no you couldn't." he'd say without thinking, not understating what you mean by that. were you being serious? were you joking? because this is not something to joke about.

after you said that you're completely serious, he looked like you just burnt all of his tcg cards. did you offend him? did you make him mad, sad? you didn't know. just as you were about to apologize he cut you off.

"you know this reminds me of one of my jokes" he clears his throat "why should you never fight a dinosaur? because you'll get jurasskicked!!"

terrible, absolutely terrible. you'd think that it's one of his worst jokes he made.

── ꒰childe. ｡˚ ꒱

did he hear you correctly? you saying that you can take him in a fight? the eleventh fatui harbinger? oh bring it on.. don't take him wrong, he'd never actually hurt you! however when you look at him from above with that confidence in your eyes, and with that sweet little grin trying so hard not to burst out laughting. might as well test you right?

"c'mon then, i promise i'll be gentle." he said sitting up from his previous position on the bed. he chuckled slightly as you launched at him, practically making him lay down. you sitting on top of him while he pretends to fight back.

everything ended up with you and him playfighting, him obviously losing to you. definitely a core memory.

── ꒰xiao. ｡˚ ꒱

the room was silent after you said that sentence, it wasn't one of those comfortable silence moments but not one of those awkward ones either. were you joking? he'd think. was it one of your pranks again?

"You clearly have no respect for the adepti." he'd say unintentionally harshly.

he was surprised when you wanted to prove him that you're stronger then him, he'd refuse. he'd never fight you, he would never raise his hand at you. you were his everything, his significant other, his soulmate and even if you'd leave him, betray him demanding to fight, he'd refuse once again. why? because he loves you.

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

[inzaynety]

ice, ice, baby! ⤫

➢ summary: your boyfriend seeks warmth the same way every time

➢ content: zayne x fem!reader; 1259 words; fluff; one (1) suggestive joke if u squint; cold fingers lol; can be read as gn!reader

➢ notes: my first fic in a long time, i missed writing. hope you like it <3

Despite the nature of his evol, Zayne doesn’t do too well in the cold. 

You’ve seen it when getting caught in the rain where his hair and clothes were drenched and a seemingly permanent scowl was on his face. He was very quick to usher you both to a hot shower and didn’t even let you leave his side until he deemed himself warm enough. 

You’ve encountered it when he would pick up your drink orders and as he places your iced beverage down in front of you, he retracts his hand to clench and unclench before drying it off on a napkin from the condensation. He sits down across from you and you pretend not to have seen anything when he looks like he wants to put his gloves back on.

You even noticed it when he would lounge on the couch after a long day’s shift wrapped in a blanket, bundled in with a comfy sweater you purchased for him as he nodded in and out of sleep. This was one of the rare times that you had been the one to tell him off about getting a good night's rest. 

Of course, you adored his actions. They were endearing for a man of such stoic nature and you’d be damned if that all went away. All except one, however. 

You’re both relaxing on that same comfy couch, a show in the background that is nothing more than background noise to the rain hitting against the glass of your apartment. Zayne has you in his lap, his hands resting comfortably on your waist as you lean back on his chest as you feel his fingers tap your sides occasionally. There wasn’t a set rhythm or anything as he was doing it idly. 

No words are exchanged through the muffled sounds of rain and TV show characters for a good amount of time, so you decide to nestle further into him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Sleepy?” He asks in a low voice. His actions don’t stop but it has you feeling content with your position even more. So you nod. He hums in response and brings his arms to wrap around you more. You’re about to fall asleep until you feel the sharp iciness right on your skin. 

You jolt in his hold and reflexively grab his wrists. His fingers had slipped under your shirt and you had lost the barrier protecting you from the unpleasant cold. 

“Zayne!” You narrow your eyes at him after whipping your head around. A hint of a smile is threatening to break on his lips but he knows he can’t let that through. Not if he wanted to see a deeper furrow in your brows.

“Sorry, I thought I could warm up a bit faster.” He doesn’t seem apologetic when he brings you back to him to place his hands and fingers in the exact same spot. You squirm but he doesn’t let you go, only rubbing the skin as he gradually gets warmer and warmer. 

You huff and take it upon yourself to turn in his lap to come face to face with him. Zayne only looks up at you expectantly. You don’t say anything just yet but you do take one of his hands and lift it up to cup in both of your own. Just like that your expression grows concerned. 

“Is your evol acting up again? I told you this would happen if you didn’t take that nap during overtime.” Zayne chuckles and shakes his head. He loves that you care about him even if you needed to show your annoyance first. 

“Not anymore that it already is,” is what he says. It’s not really an answer to his nearly freezing temperature and it definitely doesn’t assuage your worries. 

“But—“

“I swear.” He says firmly, looking you right in the eye. You don’t question that any further. 

“Okay, then why not use your gloves? Or the blanket over there?” You say with a lilt and it lightens the mood a little. “I was so close to sleep, you know?” 

Zayne smiles gently, bringing one of your hands with his now even warm one to his lips. He presses a kiss to the back of your hand before wrapping his arms around you once more. But there is a slight look of confusion on his face. 

“What do you mean?”

“Hm? Don’t those help you warm up much quicker? That’s how your coldness goes away, right?” Now you had gotten confused. 

At the sight of you he laughs again and shakes his head. He brings a hand to the back of your neck and you brace yourself, but are met with no cold whatsoever. His palm is warm. 

“What are you talking about? I always use you.”

“What?” Now it was your turn to be confused. “You don’t. Not when you get cold like this.”

Zayne looks amused. “Name an instance where I don’t.” You think to yourself and come back to the same scenarios.

“When it rains, you immediately take a hot shower when we get home,” Zayne looks like he’s expecting more to the answer.

“Am I alone?”

No, he takes you with him. But you assumed it was to save water. That and well, other things. But as you’re about to answer that you see that he’s serious. Like he’s waiting for you to realize something. Have you missed something?

You try to think back. Those rainy days happened more times to the both of you, more than one might think, so there was even a routine had another one of those days come. You’d rush all the way home and try not to leave too much of a trail of water to the bathroom before stripping down and hopping into the shower. 

You did recall always standing in proximity, heck, he would keep his hands resting on your legs as you sat in the bathroom counter whole towel drying his hair. There was no a moment his hands were keeping your close. 

“No… well, what about cold drinks? You always have your gloves on right away afterwards.” He does, but he’s sighs inwardly at the fact that you never notice that he reaches out to hold yours first, after wiping his hands on the napkin. Zayne always realizes that you flinch subconsciously but hold his back and it’s because the stark contrast of temperature surprises you. That’s why he puts his gloves on. Though, he does notice how much faster he warms up after your touch. 

He says as such. You’re taken aback. Really? Your face gives it away, He nods.

It’s like he can see how the cogs turn in your head as you can’t believe how you’ve missed the hidden adoration he holds for you. You know his little gestures of affection, but your focus on them really did cover up the obvious. Your face flushes and your cheeks feel warm so you think to cool them down with his cooler hands, lifting them to your face.

Zayne obliges and watches as you close your eyes in embarrassment. 

Your voice is small. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.” He only responds by pulling you forward to rest your head over his shoulder. He nuzzles himself into your neck and sighs. 

“There’s always something else going on in that brain of yours; I don’t mind it. Just," he pauses, lifting his head to press your foreheads together. He closes his eyes before softly finishing his thoughts.

“Stay here with me a little longer.”

©inzaynety 2024

[bloomocha]

❝ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? (THIS CAN'T END) ❞

ೃ⁀➷ you and kuroo have liked been friends since forever (highschool), but unfortunately, you both are too stupid to realize your feelings for one another. Until you do.

ꨄ︎ paring(s)! kuroo tetsurou x vball player afab!reader , slight sakusa x reader , slight kuroo x oc

ꨄ︎ warnings/content! 18+ content , timeskip! characters , fluff , humor , mutual pinning but both are stupid , friends to lovers , kuroo blabs , semi slow build up , tension , lots of emotions , slight insecure!reader , porn with plot (plot kinda wack) , kinda dom!kuroo , big dick!kuroo , dirty talk , kuroo is kinda a tease , oral ( f&m receiving) , fingering , slight boob play , unprotected sex , multiple orgasms , missionary → mating press (i think that's what its called idk) , not proof read at all LMFAO

ꨄ︎ word count! 26k+ (whoops)

ꨄ︎ author's note! hiii first post to tumblr lol :3 , this def went on longer than I intended (i got carried away whoops) , semi first time writing smut so pls be nice , if any of my tags r wrong feel free to correct me!! the spacing is also a little weird since I uploaded this from computer but I might go back in and fix it laatter ! hope u enjoy and sorry for the wait lol , i ended up in the hospital and got evicted (double whammy) but ayyee its here now !!

11 years ago. April 13th, 2013.

You throw your bag over your shoulder after unloading everything from the trunk of Kuroo’s car. Once the space is clean, he closes the trunk with a gentle thud, breaking the silence of the cool morning, and turns to you to ask, “Is that everything?”

You nod looking down at your luggage and counting while trying to fix the twisted trap of your bag on your shoulder that apparently refuses to cooperate. You fumble with it, frustration building up as you mutter under your breath, “Ugh, why won’t you just…?”

Kuroo laughs as he watches you, he steps closer and reaches out, fixing the strap for you in a fluid motion. It slaps against the hoodie you’re wearing and his fingers graze your shoulder, sending a shiver down your spine. 

‘There you go princess,” he says, a soft smile playing on his lips. His touch lingers for a moment longer than necessary before he removes them.

“Thanks, Kuroo,” you say, kicking your feet at the ground. The reality of your situation hasn’t settled in yet and now the moment feels a bit awkward. You pull at the drawstrings of Kuroo’s hoodie, seeking familiarity in it to try and tide your feelings. Your eyes glance over the car, he had only gotten it recently, a gift from his dad for making it into college yet it already held so many of your memories. 

The time he spilled coffee on Bokuto during a road trip, when he almost crashed everybody arguing with Bokuto over directions, that one-time Kenma lost a Pokemon game disc resulting in three of you almost riping his car apart to look for it, him nearly running over Komori and Sakusa, Akaashi cursing him out silently for his interesting driving skills, the late night conversations and the silent drives where words weren’t needed, just his presence was enough. 

You look back up at him again, everything you want to say gets caught up in your throat, so you have to settle. “I’m going to miss everyone,” you whisper, a lump forming in your throat. The stupid late-night convenience runs, group dinners, and weekend adventures ran through your mind, seeming like nothing but a distant memory. The thought of leaving all that behind weighs heavy on you and at this moment you wonder if you're making the right choice. 

You’d been given an offer to join the u19 team, to represent Japan and play other girls around your age who were equally as talented as you were. An opportunity that anybody in your position would kill for, yet as you stand here right now, slight dread courses through you. 

The team is leaving for Brazil today to train and practice, and you wonder if there's still time to change your mind. You love the sport, ever since Kuroo helped you find the joy in it again but leaving everything behind, even if just for a while, feels more daunting than ever. 

Kuroo notices the look on your face. The way your eyes dart everywhere and the way you fold your lip underneath your teeth, something you always do when you're nervous. He playfully flicks your forehead, causing you to wince and frown at him, “Stop overthinking. You’re gonna do great, just like you always do. And after you win everything, you’ll be back before you know it.”

You give him another shake, trying to absorb all this faith he has in you and the reassurance, but the small piece of doubt still lingers. The entire tournament will only last a few months after the remainder of training and you know you’ll be back once everything is over, but those months seem too long. 

He reaches out to take your hand, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of it. “I know you’re scared,” he says softly. “It’s okay to be scared. It means you care, and that’s what makes you, you. And I think that’s my favorite part of  you.”

Water starts to build up in the corner of your eyes, you try to blink the tears away ultimately failing and ending up quickly wiping them off instead. Not wanting to cry in front of Kuroo again like you did this morning when he found you cuddled up in your bed, not packed at all. “It’s just… what if I can’t do it? What if I fail? I don’t want to be the reason we have to go home early.”

Kuroo pulls you closer, enveloping you in a hug, one that feels like he’s shielding you away from the world. His arms wrap around you tightly, inhaling deeply, like he’s committing the feel and scent of you to memory. “Listen to me,” he murmurs into your hair. “You’ve already accomplished so much to get here. This is just a small step, one that you’re more than prepared for. You aren’t going to be the reason the team gets sent home. And no matter what happens, you have people here that believe in you.”

The words settle into your soul, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves. You return the hug, squeezing him close like he might disappear if you don’t hold him hard enough, you want to remember this feeling and keep him close forever. The fear is still there, but it feels less like your impending doom and more simply like nerves.

“You’re going to be here when I come back right?” you ask him, pulling back slightly, looking up at him with glossy eyes. The sight makes Kuroo melt, he takes a hand that was wrapped around your waist to run a hair through your hair in another soothing manner. 

“I would hope so,” you pinch his side and he yelps. “Ow!”

“Don’t tease me right now,” a scowl reaches your face and Kuroo lets out a throaty laugh. A warm smile spreads across his face, “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Next time I’ll drag Kenma out of bed so he can come join. Oh, and I’ll even invite Bokuto and Akaashi too.”

“Please don’t. Bokuto said he was going to bring a cardboard cut out of my face if I invited him.”

“I know. I saw it.”

A chuckle escapes Kuroo’s lips as you pull back, there's a buzz in your pocket and you dig out your phone only to be met with a bunch of notifications from the team’s group chat. Almost everybody was there, only four players not including you hadn’t made it yet, tucking it back in you look at Kuroo, who’s smiling contently at you. 

It was probably time for you to leave now, in case some huge rush comes in and you get stuck in a long line, but you have one more question for him, one that you’ve been itching to ask for no reason other than to test something.

“Hey, Kuroo?” you call, gathering his attention. “Yes?”

“What is it like to fall in love?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. Heart beating with both anticipation and fear, with hope that he might just tell you what you’re hoping to hear.

The question pierces through him like an arrow, he freezes, confused about why you're asking him that. The question hangs in the air, so thick, that the two of you feel like you are suffocating. Kuroo takes a deep breath and looks away searching for an answer that will suffice. You notice a flicker in his eyes– something unreadable.“I don’t know.”

“Never experienced it.”

A wave of disappointment crashes over you. His answer is polite, almost feels like it’s been rehearsed, but you can sense something is off. His entire tone was off, it shifted to one you know he uses when he’s lying you think. Why does it feel like he's holding something back?

Does Kuroo like somebody? That you don’t know about yet?

The idea hurts, more than the idea of him not liking you back.

You force a smile, trying to mask your disappointment. “Never mind then,” you wave it off with a laugh that sounds hollow to your own ears. “I was just wondering. I wanted some advice that’s all.”

Now it’s his turn to furrow his brows, Kuroo wants to know what you meant? Seeking advice, for what? Is there someone he doesn’t know about?

You watch as something flickers in his eyes but it’s gone before you can truly grasp it. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it, the words seemingly lost. 

The moment feels heavy, pregnant with unspoken emotions and missed connections. It’s as if you're both standing on the edge of an abyss, teetering but afraid of falling. “You should probably go catch your flight.”

He tells you and you realize that a silly amount of time has passed and that he was right, you do need to leave. A part of you wishes that he’d give you something more, more of who it was he’s thinking about, or even a tiny spark that he might like you, but that idea feels more distant now than ever and hope is a fragile thing, and right now, it feels too breakable to cradle. 

“Take care, okay. Promise me,” you say, voice as steady as anybody’s who feels like her heart is hurting. 

“I promise,” he replies, his eyes never leaving yours. “You take care as well okay? Text me when you land and if you need anything. And come back with stories to tell, for me– Bokuto.”

“I will,” you force a smile, grabbing onto the handles of your luggage, and gathering everything together. You turn to leave, and the path ahead is clear, more clear than ever now, except there's a tinge in your heart. Kuroo doesn’t like you, and that’s clear enough. 

He watches you go, you turn around one last time to smile and wave and this time he can tell it’s not forced. He wishes the words didn’t get jumbled in his head, that he actually knew what he felt and Kuroo lets out a shaky breath watching you go. He wonders if things would be different if he knew, and maybe then you wouldn’t be asking him for advice for another guy. 

Instead, he tells himself that love is patient, that he will wait for you, even if you never return to him. 

As you enter the airport, all you can think is what a lucky girl she is. 

And all he can think is how he’s going to murder this guy. 

Today had to be perfect. 

It was his first time being somewhat in charge of helping to host an event of this size, and god, is Kuroo thankful for his department. He doesn’t know if he could have pulled all this off by himself. 

He moves through the expensive hall, eye-catching every detail he can. The venue was a hive of activity, the final touches had been put in place for what was shaping up to be an unforgettable night. This wasn't just any party; this was the prelude to the 2024 Olympics, and Kuroo was there to help, orchestrate an event that would celebrate Japan's proudest athletic traditions and its most promising future stars.

And also, several of the higher board members of the JVA would be making an appearance, so everything had to be proper and to exact perfection. The thought of it alone was making him jittery. 

Guests were already pilling inside after taking photos with the paparazzi and posing at the venue's entrance, and Kuroo thought it would be a great idea to make one last round check of everything. It started with the tables, ensuring each one was adorned with elegant centerpieces and meticulously arranged name cards. 

He recognized a few names from the other sports, and even vividly remembered that he had collaborated with this one specific lady from another sports department for that one. Each section was divided up randomly, and people from all different sports sat together, but the seating was also strategic, designed to foster conversations and networking among the sponsors, athletes, and other prominent guests. He paused at one table, adjusting a slightly crooked name card, and smiled at the sight of names he recognized. 

His old classmates, old teammates, current friends, and the people he currently works with today– the monster generation. The volleyball prodigies, who have encaptured the nation since their high school days, were now the cornerstone of Japan’s Olympic volleyball team. 

Kuroo thinks that they were the main selling point of the Olympics, with how popular they all were. He hadn’t even realized how increasingly popular volleyball was becoming, not only in Japan but worldwide until now and the feeling had him buzzing from the inside– it meant that his tactics of getting people interested and hooked on the sport were working. 

Moving on, Kuroo hurriedly checked on the musicians who were starting to play up near the stage. Since the event was one of a more sophisticated background, some other member of the hosting community decided on a string quartet, hoping that their serene music would provide a calm atmosphere for the night. Kuroo exchanged a few words with the conductor, confirming the playlist and timing, but he was ushered off by the same lady who was his partner for the planning. Kobayashi Himari told him to go check on the other stuff, as she had told him she got the rest of this covered. 

Kuroo laughed but agreed and headed to the bar. He inspected an array of drinks and cocktails that they were offering and specifically designed for tonight, a refreshing mix of sake and citrus, ensuring that they were up to standards. He chatted briefly with the head bartender, emphasizing the importance of swift service without compromising the quality of the drinks. The bar would be one of the evening's focal points, he knew how athletes liked to get when they were celebrated, and Kuroo needed it to be flawless. 

The guest list was next on his agenda, He conferred with the team at the entrance as they were helping people, going over the names one last time. They checked and rechecked, but Kuroo’s attention to detail meant he wanted to be absolutely certain that no one was left out or improperly acknowledged. While he was out there, he greeted a few sponsors and celebrities who were heading inside. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he checked it to see a confirmation of everything else inside being ready for the night. Only then did he feel his heart rate go down a little. Finally, Kuroo mingled with the rest of the sponsors, thanking them personally for their support. Their contributions were the lifeblood of the event, and Kuroo ensured that they felt appreciated with some usual ego-boosting. 

As the evening drew near, Kuroo took a moment to stand back and survey the scene. Everything was in place, every detail meticulously planned. The lights dimmed slightly, casting a warm, inviting glow over the room. The camera crews were set up, capturing every moment for the eager public. Now it was time to let the night unfold in front of him.

Kuroo has never noticed you like this before. 

No, who is he kidding? His eyes were on you the moment he saw you step into the venue with your team, after the paparazzi photos. You looked drop-dead gorgeous, makeup done, extenuating your pretty features, your hair shinned and flowed effortlessly down your back, and don’t even get him started on your outfit. 

The white champagne dress clings to your body nicely, the creamish color emits a slight glow due to the dim lights of the venue, and it hugs your curves in all the right areas, practically exposing you to all the guests in the room, he doesn’t like that but it’s not his place to say. After all, he’s just a friend. 

His eyes move with your figure, and Kuroo watches how you interact with a few sponsors, all smiles, showing off your perfect teeth, and laughing at their jokes. He wonders if they’re as funny as you make them look, or if you’re just laughing to be courteous. He watches as you talk with your teammates, listening to one of them complain about whatever, you offer them a gleeful smile and pat her back reassuringly before heading off into the crowd once more. 

His eyes follow just like before, you have this aura about you, one that’s been dragging him in since he met you in high school, one that causes him to notice all the little things about you. Just like how he notices how the dress might be a tad too long for you, the fabric getting caught in your sharp heels, how the bag that came with your outfit is bothering you, he sees how you look around for your nametag on one of the tables to put it down, and most importantly, he can see the way you limp. 

He wonders how they even got you into those heels, you’d always complain about how they gave you blisters but maybe it was the nature of the event that had your manager forcing you into them. You would never wear them willingly, he bet you put up a fight. Kuroo can imagine the pout on your face, your bottom lip jutting out a little further as your manager lectures you on why the heels are an important part of your image this evening. 

Kuroo wonders if you are limping because of the pain, was it the wrong size? Or was it because of the blisters? Maybe you weren’t used to how tall or how small the heel was. He should have brought extra shoes just in case, for you to wear—

“Kuro..” a voice calls out and the sports promoter remembers where he was and who he was currently talking to. He shifts back to the bar, staring at the drink that now looks slightly watered down, a sign that it’s been sitting there for a minute. Then he turns his head to face his friend, the reason he was at the bar, “Don’t ever invite me to events like this again.”

The dark brunette with fading blonde highlights slouched over the bar, a side of his face smushed into the cold expensive counter as he hosts a brooding look on his face. One Kuroo has seen a lifetime's worth of. “Hey, you need to keep up appearances as a sponsor and the CEO of Bouncing Ball Corp. Besides you were the one who asked to come. What was your excuse? Because you wanted to see a certain someone?”

Kuroo smiles, propping his chin up on his hand and nudging Kenma with the other one. The dark brunette frowns, pink tinting his cheeks–he knows he’s been caught, that he did come out tonight to see a certain someone, but that’s beside the point. “Shut up. I already went around greeting people and it was annoying and a pain in my ass. Besides she’s literally swarmed–can’t you see that?”

Kenma lifted his head up just a smidge, to check if what he was saying was true, and low and behold it was. You stood surrounded by a bunch of other volleyball players, mainly people he recognized like the msby players, Hinata, Kageyama, Komori, and Suna. The rest of them were spread out all around the room socializing with other athletes.

“Hm, haven’t noticed,” Kuroo lies through his teeth. He refuses to look over, trying to get you out of his mind seems impossible tonight. Not like it’s possible any other night. How strange, he thinks, to dream of you even when he is wide awake.

Ever since you moved back to Japan to play in one of the Division 1 teams, you’ve constantly been on his mind. Kuroo hates to say it, but he missed you— and now that he gets to see you almost every day as a member of the JVA, his feelings just keep growing.

Every living moment with you makes his heart beat faster than usual. It reminds him of how he would act in high school, where he would wait for you after school to hang out, go visit your work to bother you, have you come to his school to practice with his team, and the small moments where he’d watch you play games with Kenma and beat him. 

He loves reliving those memories because they’re all filled with you. 

Quite possibly his favorite thing in the world. 

If he had known you coming back would have excited this weird feeling in him again he would’ve stayed as far away from you as possible. Which ultimately wouldn’t be too far, since his job required him to work with your team and because how was he supposed to stay away?

“Seriously?” Kenma scoffs, looking at Kuroo with a knowing look. It’s not like the tall dark down haired man was any bit subtle, and besides, Kenma knows his best friend and he knows you (his other best friend but that’s beside the point). Unfortunately, you both are stupid and idiots. 

Every time Kenma has to watch the two of you interact, it’s like he’s watching two people drowning and trying to save each other. It’s unfortunate that his two friends are oblivious and can’t see what’s directly in front of them. 

Kuroo frowns at Kenma, taking a drink of whatever was in the cup in front of him. He doesn’t even remember what he ordered but it’s strong and leaves a taste in his mouth, “What do you mean seriously?”

Kenma shrugs, puffing air out of his lips and avoiding Kuroo’s eyes. He can’t help but feel sorry for how dense his friend is. 

“Why don’t you go over there and talk to her? Talk to the people you represent, I don’t know,” Kenma suggests, holding his hand out in your path. Kuroo’s eyes follow it until they land on you, this time you're grimacing at something everybody else is laughing at besides Sakusa. 

He thinks about it for a moment. Kuroo hasn’t talked to you all night, too busy talking to sponsers, organizing and discussing future collaborations and deals. The only time he engaged with you was a brief text beforehand when you asked him if you should bring a jacket. 

“And leave you here all by yourself?” Kuroo turns his head to face his friend who is glaring. “I’m worried if I turn around for a moment you’ll pull out your stupid nintendo and stay stuck in a corner.”

“Sounds like my ideal kind of night. It sucks that I can’t even stream,” Kenma mutters to himself, ignoring the unamused look Kuroo was currently giving him. They both turn to stare at you, admiring how you look, some more than others. Soon enough, you must feel the two sets of eyes on you, because you turn their way, gaze briefing meeting Kuroo’s before switching over to Kenma.

You offer a sweet smile, holding up your hand to wave. Kenma’s nonchalant look changes into a slight smile, while Kuroo sends a sloppy smile your way and blows a kiss. His heart patters in his chest when your smile widens at his silly gesture. He waves you over to them, turns around, and chugs the rest of his drink, hoping to steady his nerves.

As you approached, Kuroo felt a surge of confidence. Maybe it was the success of the evening, maybe it was a couple of drinks he'd already had, but he somehow decided tonight might be the night to make a move on you. Just to test the waters. 

But when he turned back, it wasn’t you who stood in front of him, it was Kobayashi Himari. His partner in hosting the event and the brilliant mind who helped him plan everything. She stood there with a light smile, her eyes sparking with mischief. “Hi Kuroo! Long time no see?” she says putting the drink in her hand onto the bar countertop. 

“I saw you thirty minutes ago...” He raises an eyebrow, confused. Himari just shrugs, she leans in closer, purring into his ears. “Feels like forever ago. That suit looks amazing on you by the way. The color is… nice. It’s not quite what I had in mind for you though…”

Kuroo smiles, playing along. “Really? What color did you have in mind?” he asks, his tone a bit teasing. Off to the side, Kenma grimaces at the conversation. 

Himari pouts playfully, “Something a bit more daring, perhaps? But you do still look good, I have to admit.” She twirls a lock of her hair around her finger, her eyes never leaving him. “And this dress? What do you think?”

“You look great,” Kuroo offers. He can’t lie, Himari has always been a bit of a looker. The dress is different compared to the normal business suits she wears, the ones with the glasses that she’s forfeited for tonight. She easily eases a strong sex appeal, the way she carries herself with extreme confidence. She knows she’s good-looking and uses it to her benefit. Kuroo thinks she is more of a mature and sexy type. 

It’s not the answer Himari wants though, Kuroo is oblivious to this, but Kenma catches the slight drop of Himari’s smile. He doesn’t think it’s a pleasant smile, either. Too sharp for his liking. Himari instead of faltering, tries to redeem herself by leaning closer, bending down a bit,  giving Kuroo an ‘unintentional’ view of her cleavage. She whispers in his ear, her breath warm against his skin. “You know, we should ditch this party. Go somewhere else maybe..?”

Kenma gags. 

Kuroo blinks, taken aback. Why would they do that? He glances around the room, the very room they had both worked so hard to perfect. “Why?” he asks, genuinely confused. He did not stress several weeks of planning and stressing on the small details for it to go to waste. “We’ve put so much work into tonight..” he frowns. 

Himari straightens up, her smile never faltering. "Sometimes, Kuroo, it's nice to enjoy the fruits of our labor in a different setting. Just think about it." She winked, then turned as someone called her name from across the room. "I'll be back," she promises, sauntering off to attend to the other guest.

“Please never flirt with her in front of me ever again,” Kenma says, causing Kuroo to look over at him. “That woman is terrifying and not in a good way.”

“Really? That’s just how Himari always is.”

“Yeah maybe if you're a tall, hot, sports promoter named Kuroo Tetsurou…”

“Did you just call me hot?” Kuroo laughs at Kenma rolling his eyes and leans back on the counter. He starts mumbling something incoherent and Kuroo was just about to ask what he was saying until something else entered his view.

Something worth his time. 

Kuroo thinks his heart does several flips now that you're here, in front of him. Blessing his eyesight. Your hands are at your side, fidgeting with the silky smooth fabric of your dress, “Wow. Who was that?”

“Who?” Kuroo snaps out of his gaze to ask, following the tilt of your head when it lands on Himari, who is gleefully chatting it up with some sports athletes. “Oh her. That’s Kobayashi Himari– she's the sports promoter of the swim team. Also my partner for helping to host the event. She’s incredible–really helped pull this entire thing together. Don’t know what I would’ve done without her honestly,” he could go on about the woman's accomplishments, despite only working with her recently, she’s a big hot topic within the sports division due to her ability to bring in support to the swim team. 

Kuroo hopes to have that type of effect on people one day. You listen carefully, not missing the way he talks about her, his voice full of admiration and your heart unreasonably aches with every word. Himari is beautiful, she excludes a level of maturity and elegance that you worry you’ll never possess. Even the way she walked away was sexy– you couldn’t help but wonder if that was Kuroo’s type. Tall, sexy, and not built like a linebacker. 

You feel small in comparison, a stark contrast to Himari’s confident aura. There is even a sense of jealousy that runs through your veins, it’s not justified, Kuroo is not your man no matter how much you want him to be. 

Kuroo’s about to add on when Kenma elbows him, signaling to stop. He honestly to God loves his best friend, but damn is Kuroo so stupid sometimes for the guy who graduated top of his entire class. 

He takes the hint and switches the subject, focusing entirely on you. “Ah, anyways. I didn’t know you were going to wear white. I thought you said you were going to wear black?”

You shake your head, and your hands find your waist over the dress, smoothing it over, attempting to fix your already perfect appearance. “I originally was going too, but the team stylist said I would look better in brighter colors, so we settled on this dress.”

“I also sent you a message about it a few hours ago... but I think you were too busy setting up to respond,” you grin at him, throwing your hands up in a ridiculous pose, and Kuroo is able to take you in fully. He gives you a warm smile as he admires everything about you, “It looks gorgeous on you. Spin for me?”

Your face lights up at his little request and you do a little twirl, the fabric of your dress flaring out gracefully as you giggle. Kuroo swears his breath catches in his throat while watching you move, it's really tempting to hit Kenma and cover his eyes– so that Kuroo is the only one seeing you like this. 

“You are breathtaking, as always of course,” Kuroo hums, reaching a hand out to pull you a bit closer. The hand settles on the lower side of your back, and the warmth it provides excites you, making you rub your thighs together underneath the flow of the dress.

Too busy geeking at how nice Kuroo’s hand feels on you, you almost forget that your other friend is also at the bar, staring at the two of you with a small smile, “Oh! Hi Kenma, almost didn’t recognize you with the suit you had on.”

“Hey pretty,” he greets, straightening up in the bar stool and turning his body towards where you stood in between the two men.

“Pretty?” Kuroo raises an eyebrow at his friend, who shrugs with a sly smirk–one that Kuroo decides he doesn’t like, especially not when it has you smiling like that. 

“Didn’t know you owned anything like that in your closet.”

“Haha, very funny Kenma. That’s rich coming from the man who lives, eats, and breathes, in hoodies and sweats. Did you steal that suit?”

“Yes.”

“No, he did not,” Kuroo glares at Kenma, and he just shrugs in return. “I went out and bought that for him. I swear, believe he would’ve walked in here with a hoodie on if I didn’t”

“I probably would have. Dressing up is exhausting.” You nod in agreement, your stylist took around two hours just for the simple attire you were wearing. It was nothing like some of the other female athletes who went all out, you kind of wished you were dressed like them. 

Kuroo catches your gaze slipping off him, he watches as you stare at the other women in the room and notices immediately what you’re thinking, you don’t need to express it for him. He knows you. “Stop that,” he says softly, pinching the skin on your back through the silk. “You look gorgeous.”

You stop and stare at him. How does he always know when you're up to something?

He gives you a certain look and you roll your eyes playfully. “So, do you like my new suit?” Kuroo asks, leaning back and showing off the black fitted suit.

“Yes! I see you took my advice!” you squeal, happy that he chose the color you said would look best on him. “It’s so much better than that gray suit you practically wear, every day.” 

“My gray suit looks nice, excuse you.”

“I never said it didn’t!”

Your gaze travels all over him, enjoying the view he is giving you. Kuroo had taken off the suit jacket, it was draped over the back of the barstool, leaving him in just the white long-sleeved dress shirt, a black vest, and a red tie. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a set of strong forearms, muscles, and several veins. 

The sight of him like this sends a flutter down to your stomach.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the black ink that decorates his tan skin. It’s a date, in Roman numerals on the inside of his right arm. Something you’ve never seen before, you swear that Kuroo had once said he didn’t like tattoos because of the pain. So why did he have one that was dated so far back?

Was it a lover? It’s from 2012 when he was a senior in high school. Maybe a high school sweetheart? But you knew Kuroo from then and never saw him with any girls. Unless you count Kenma with long hair. Maybe it was that one girl he half mentioned when you left, You want to ask, but figured that if he hasn’t mentioned it– it’s not your place to ask.

Your hands move unconsciously, reaching out to touch the fabric of his vest while thinking about what that tattoo might mean. The action was casual, like a stylist who was making finishing touches to their work, but the way your fingers traced the material and brushed against his body sent a rush of heat through Kuroo. Though your hands weren’t directly on his skin, it still feels that way to him. 

His pulse quickens as your touch lingers, your proximity making Kuroo oddly nervous. But of course, you seem to have no idea the actual effect you have on him by standing so close, lost in your own world, in between his legs that are spread on the barstool, lost in the gorgeous details of the vest. It has a slight design going on that nobody would notice unless they were sitting close. 

He can smell your perfume, it’s a soft scent that hints on the border of floral but he can for sure confirm it’s strawberry– your signature scent. It envelops him, taking over his senses, the stupid perfume is mixed with something he thinks, it has to be infused, because every time you wear it he swears it overrides everything, everything is just you, you, you. 

“So..?” he purrs.

Kuroo’s breath hitches when he looks up at you. Your makeup is flawless, and the colors match perfectly with your skin tone, accentuating your already pretty features. Your eyes sparkle with excitement and it makes his heart churn, you’re so beautiful to him. Your lips, perfectly painted, curve into a small smile.

“I think… You look sexy,” you tell him softly, a little bit too in your feels to care about how you sound. “Yeah? You think so, princess?” The question–or if he even asked a question gets lost on you, the need to just tell him how you feel honestly for once takes over. The adjective doesn’t get lost on him, you’ve never called him sexy and Kuroo isn’t going to lie, your compliment goes straight to his cock and he can feel himself straining in his pants. 

He has to readjust himself in the seat to try and relieve the feeling. 

God, Kuroo just wants to take you right here. Pick you up and set you firmly on his lap, maybe grind your hips into his until he can feel your pussy throbbing against his cock, make you beg for him to put it inside, he’d tease you, possibly take it slow until you can’t handle it anymore. Make up for lost time and then he’d pound that sweet cunt until all you can think about is his cock sliding in and out of you. Till he successfully fucks you dumb and your whining and begging with tears in your eyes, telling him how much you love the way he feels, and how you want more. 

If the venue was empty, he would bend you over the bar, take you from behind with his hand wrapped firmly around your throat, he’d—

“Hey yn, we have to go. Speeches are about to start soon,” a voice snaps him out of his disgusting thoughts, ones he shouldn’t be having about his best friend. “Hm? Oh! Okay, coming,” you grin his way and then back out between Kuroo’s leg, you pat his hair, ruffling it a bit saying goodbye, and then you wave to Kenma who messes up your hair. “I’ll be back!” you whisper as if it’s some secret you're not allowed to share. 

Kuroo hates Sakusa Kiyoomi– spoiler alert, no he doesn’t. Not when the guy brings in views due to his good looks and talents he doesn’t, but at this moment, watching how Sakusa pulls you away with a hand on your waist, he just might. He watches as the fucker pulls you closer to his body and how his grip on your waistline tightens. 

Sakusa even has the audacity to lean down and whisper something into your ear. Something that has you tensing, your back muscles tightening up as you move uncomfortably and smack Sakusa’s back. The action makes Kuroo smile, but then you lean in to whisper something into the 6’4 Greek god’s ear his smile drops. 

He can sense when Kenma is about to say something he’s not going to like, “Don’t,” his friend only snickers and shuts up. 

“You both are stupid.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

Instead of fussing over the fact that no matter how hard Kuroo tries, he will never be enough for you, he turns to the bar and orders another drink. He sends quick curses to Sakusa until the fruity cocktail gets placed neatly in front of him. He's staring at it about to taste it when a hand settles on his shoulder. 

It’s Hinata in his orange glorious self– No Kuroo is not kidding. His suit is literally orange, may somebody fire Hinata’s stylist, “Hey Bossman! Looking great! I just wanted to that that Atsumu and Bokuto broke the chocolate fountain and I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

Kuroo’s face drops, and he blinks several times, hoping the next words out of Hinata’s mouth are ‘it’s a prank’ but they aren’t. The guy is dead serious, “Are you serious?? How does that happen??”

“No idea, like I said, wasn’t at all involved. Nothing to do with me. Suna is over there filming it–”

“This is why we can’t have nice things,” Kuroo mutters, taking the cocktail down the throat and getting up from his seat, he tells Kenma to watch his stuff. “Hey Kuroo?” Kenma’s voice rings out and he turns around to his friend, “You might want to take care of that before you go...”

Kenma gestures down below and Kuroo’s face falls. He doesn’t even have to look down to know what his friend was mentioning. His lips fall into a thin line and he sighs in defeat, his mood is ruined, his head is hurting at the thought of Atsumu and Bokuto breaking the fountain, and the worst of them all is that he’s still hard. “Right. Thanks.” 

The event dreads on after that, one by one, sponsors, professional sports alumni, and various dignitaries took to the stage, their words teetering on the edge of boring and inspirational. Kuroo sat beside Himari, she attempted to talk to him the entire time but for some reason, her words weren’t registering in his ears. They sit near the back, as requested by Kuroo so that he can watch everything from afar to make sure nobody is acting up, it’s also a great opportunity to keep an eye on you. 

The table you sit at isn’t too far from his and he thought that would help to relieve his worries but now all he can do is worry about how all these specific volleyball players ended up at the same table–because he doesn’t remember putting them all together like that. In fact, he distinctively remembers separating Bokuto and Hinata. 

A realization dawns on him that somebody over there, (Atsumu probably) has changed the place cards around and it has Kuroo wondering when the hell did he find the time to do that? Probably when he was hitting one off in the bathroom thinking of you. 

Himari leaned over to Kuroo’s side, peering down at his arms, trying to make some small talk, “Hey, I’ve noticed the tattoo before... What’s the meaning of it?”

Kuroo’s fingers instinctively brushed over the tattoo, a small line of Roman numerals that read VII • XXII • MMXII. It was the same day he had met you at the Shinzen High School training camp and Kuroo remembers that day vividly. 

If only you knew how much you’d change the rest of his high school experience and quite frankly his life. You took everything about him, his flaws, his terrible moments, his dramatic moments, his stupid moments, and you welcomed him home with open arms. Invading his heart without making a sound.

You had been so different back then— aloof, detached, seemingly over everything and everyone (it was high school so he couldn’t blame you). You stepped onto the court with an air of indifference, your sharp eyes scanning the room looking for the coach of Karasuno’s team, there was boredom in your eyes that for some reason he couldn’t stand. There was just something about you that drew him in, something beyond how pretty you were and the extreme talent you displayed for the sport. 

A spark? Some sport of potential he couldn’t quite define at the time.

As a child, Kuroo had known what he wanted to do. He wanted to bridge the gap between the world and volleyball, making the sport accessible for everyone to enjoy and have fun playing–just as he did. He already knew this was what he wanted, but when you came along, you challenged him in ways no one else had, pushing him to improve his skills on the court and his outlook on life. 

Then there had been that one day when you confessed to him that you played volleyball because you were good at it, that there was no enjoyment left in the sport for you, no passion remaining, and that you would probably quit after winning nationals. It was that day when he vowed to make volleyball fun for you, to help you find the joy in the sport that he loved so much, to help you discover yourself as he did.

From that day forward, he tried a bunch of different tactics and set up some really stupid stuff to help. Stuff that you had gotten annoyed at, that you yelled at him for, like that one time he had you–freshman you play with a bunch of college kids who were all men (yea he really regrets that one). But his favorite was when he tricked you into letting him teach you the basics, teaching you techniques that you already knew, and probably knew better than him, but in a way, he felt like he made them feel new and exciting to you. Like it was your first time ever touching a volleyball.

The two of you spent hours inside the gym of your school, on that court with the fading paint, going over drills and exercises that emphasized fun and creativity. Sometimes he would invite Kenma, other times he would invite Bokuto and Akaashi and you all would just play your hearts out until night came and the janitors kicked everybody out. 

Kuroo still remembers,  when you showed up to his house over the break, with such a beautiful smile he wishes he stared at it more, asking if he could set up those stupid drills and games for you, or if the two of you could just play together. When you asked him that, Kuroo thought his heart would have stopped in his chest. He realized that the way your eyes lit up in enjoyment, he was so deep in his feelings for you. 

How he always wanted to see you happy and smiling like that. 

Helping you find fun in the sport that you once saw as a requirement was a turning point for Kuroo. He saw how your attitude shifted, how you began to approach volleyball with a newfound enthusiasm. You started to play not because you were good at it but because you loved it. 

Watching that transformation was one of the most rewarding experiences of his life, and that sealed the deal for him. Kuroo knew that he wanted to support you while you went pro and wanted to help others find that same joy in volleyball that you and he have discovered, to “lower the net” and make the sport accessible and enjoyable for everyone.

He will forever cherish those moments.

In many ways, your presence in his life was a blessing he never saw coming. You kept him grounded, where he belonged and supported him. His heart knew where he stood, welcoming you in, letting you get comfortable, letting you embrace him, steal his every thought, and make it yours. 

Kuroo beams softly as he looks at the tattoo, feeling the weight of years and unspoken truths that it represented. Meeting you had been the beginning of everything for him. This is exactly why he is afraid to make a move, he refuses to let his feelings for you get in the way of your friendship. 

With the way he’s looking down at it, Himari can’t help but find herself jealous of the person who’s caught his attention like this. She’s been trying to get with Kuroo for ages, with no advice. 

“It’s a secret,” he replies, trying to keep his tone light. Himari raises a brow but laughs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. He gives her a soft smile before looking in your direction, where you sit next to Sakusa, arm on his shoulder, leaning slightly against him at the table. 

 And then it all bubbles down to moments like these where Kuroo questions his feelings. Not the fact that he likes you–loves you, but where he wonders if he should give up on you. The thought had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. 

After all, you didn't seem to see him as anything more than a friend, and he wasn't getting any younger. With him being thirty the dating pool twinges as he goes and well— Himari was right here, interested and ready to move forward. She was beautiful, intelligent, and kind—everything he could ask for in a partner. But his heart wasn't in it. 

Not only with Himari but with any woman he has tried to date. None of them can replicate the feelings you give him; none of them can and will ever come close to you. 

“Ah, I love secrets,” Himari winks at him, and Kuroo thinks the gesture repulses him for a moment. They both wave goodbye when a member of the hosting community excuses himself for a moment, and then her face changes as if she just remembered something. 

She leans closer and whispers, "There's an after-party happening later tonight. You should come. I'll send you the address."

Kuroo looks at her, surprised. "An after-party?"

"Yes," she says with a playful look. "It's going to be fun. A more relaxed vibe, just a few of us from the planning team and some of the athletes. You should come. It’ll be a good way to unwind after all of this."

Kuroo purses his lips, hesitating, glancing back over at you. Now you were pointing fingers at Atsumu from where you sat, most likely accusing him of something, and from the looks of it, the platinum blonde was guilty. 

The thought of spending more time with Himari, away from the pressures of the event, was tempting. Maybe he really did just needed to give someone else a chance. Kuroo looked back at Himari, who was watching him with hopeful eyes.

"Alright," he agrees. "I'll come."

Himari’s smile widens,  in shock. "Great! I'll text you the details."

She moved to mingle with other guests. Maybe tonight was the night to start letting go. If he could give Himari a chance, perhaps he could finally move on from the feelings that had held him captive for so long. 

The speeches soon concluded, and the room erupted into applause. Kuroo clapped along, the speeches weren’t as bad as he originally thought. But the event still had a few more hours to go, filled with press talks, socializing, and dancing. After that Kuroo decided to make his rounds, checking in on everybody, the musicians, servers, the bar, and some sponsors. 

He currently stands at a table, fixing an off-center centerpiece after talking to the JVA board members, who were very pleased with his performance tonight. He was observing the crowd with a relaxed expression when suddenly he felt a light pressure against his right shoulder. 

Kuroo knew exactly who it was. “Hey you,” he says, turning his neck to look down at you and your pouty self. “You okay princess?”

You smile back at him, though your eyes show the fatigue you are trying desperately to hide. “I’m okay. Just tired from all the speeches. They were pretty boring. I think the guy in the blue suit had the best one,” you admitted, still resting your head on his shoulder. You take the opportunity to nuzzle him with your cheeks, accidentally smearing the makeup you had forgotten you were wearing. 

The gesture is endearing and despite his white shirt getting messed up in the process, Kuroo finds it adorably cute. “Ah him.. What was that guy’s name? Gojo.. Satoru? I think he’s a big sponsor of your team actually.”

Kuroo remembers the man with the white hair and scary blue eyes, he had greeted him while speeches were starting because that was when he showed up… notoriously late. But when the guy looks like that Kuroo assumes a person can get away with anything. Not to mention but he’s also filthy rich. 

“Hmm, he’s nice. Albeit too friendly, but very sweet,” you blinked in agreement. “I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it but Kuroo you did a really good job with tonight.”

“You think so, gorgeous?”

“Yes! I mean have you seen the place?” you point your hand out, gesturing to the big venue all around you.

“I don’t know if I can take credit for eeeeeeverything–”

“Shut up,” Wow. Kuroo thinks that one went straight down his pants. “I know you did most of the work, remember? You kept texting me about it? Either way, you did such an amazing job, everyone looks happy and again, the place is beautiful.”

“Hopefully the JVA people will stop underestimating you now.”

“They’d stop doing that if you’d let me–”

“Not a chance.”

“The idea–”

“Is terrible. Leave it alone,” Kuroo laughs, watching you wave your finger wave side to side in his face in a gesture that tells him no in all capital letters. He will get you to do it one day. 

“At least think about it?” he asks. 

“The idea was thought about and then thrown in the trash,” you tell him moving off his shoulder and leaning against the big round table. You were playing around with the flowers near the plates when Kuroo noticed that you were leaning on one foot. The right ankle is rested on the other one. 

“Do you need to sit down? Your foot looks like it’s in pain,” he questions, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets and shifting in front of you just to look down on you with a tilted head. You shake your head and for once Kuroo has a hard time deciphering if you're lying to him or not. This is typical, you often hide your feelings from him–he doesn’t know why or how to get you to stop yet. 

You shake your head. “I’m fine, really. But actually, I came over here for a reason. I was thinking maybe we could... leave? Just for a bit?”

Kuroo’s eyes light up at the suggestion. “We won’t be missed for a couple of hours. We could take advantage of that.” He offered her his arm, and they began to walk towards a back entrance where the staff entered from. It was the least monitored area, not that he or you would have to worry about getting into some sort of scandal. Everybody already knew you two were friends from the many interviews and appearances on Kenma’s stream. To the public, you two were just childhood best friends, nothing weird about it.

When Kuroo leaves the venue with you, entering the parking lot it takes a bit to find his car since the area is so full. The valay? workers aren’t there, either of you question it because it allows the two of you to get out unseen. Finding his car was easy, the black sleek exterior just appeared to stick out among all of the other fancy cars, it also helps that the sticker you stuck on the bumper once is still there. 

“Nice ride, who did you rob?” you ask him when he opens the door for you to step in the passenger side. Kuroo lifts up your dress so that it doesn’t drag along the possible dirty outside. Once you were settled in the seat, Kuroo reached out, his fingers gently brushing strands of hair away from your face. 

Your eyes flutter close at the touch, and he marvels at how serene you appear. With a tender smile, Kuroo closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, his mind still lingering on the softness of your skin and the warmth in your eyes.

“Fuck off,” he snickers while climbing into the driver's seat. He noticed you watching him, your gaze steady a bit intense. 

Kuroo smirked as he let go of the seat belt, letting it hit against the melt in his car, he leaned over the console, moving in close, his face just inches away from yours.

His eyes watch how yours widen momentarily and then close, the way your lips part slightly in anticipation is cute. 

Instead of doing what you were expecting, Kuroo’s hand reached for the seatbelt next to your head, yanking on it till it crossed over your chest and buckling you in with a smooth click, and then he leaned back, chuckling at the look of surprise and slight annoyance on your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice teasing. 

You pout, crossing your arms. “Nothing,” you muttered, tone petulant.

Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh again, the sound warm and genuine, causing you to pout even more and shuffle into a slouched position in the leather seat, “You are impossible, you know that?”

Kuroo grinned, starting the engine and feeling a lightness in his chest. “So I’ve been told,” he replies. He uses one hand to maneuver his way out of the parking plot, he steals another glance at you, your profile illuminated by the city lights as the car enters the main road. 

“How much to be my chauffeur?”

“You wouldn’t need to pay me to be your chauffeur, sweetheart. I would do it willingly. Unfortunately.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hm, come find out, sweetheart.” 

You watch the surroundings of the area while Kuroo pulls into the parking lot. He’s brought you to Tokyo’s biggest fair which only happens around this time of year. Comedic timing huh? It stretches out before you like a vibrant assortment of colors, sounds, and scents. There are lights hooked up above, twinkling in the winding paths, with the window lowered you can hear the distant laughter and chatter from outside. 

The car comes to a stop and Kuroo gets out first to help you. He opens the doors, his eyes meeting yours with a playful twinkle, “Do you need to tie up your dress?” he asks, staring down at the fabric meeting the dark concrete. The ground was definitely going to ruin the white color, but you could care less about that, servers your stylist right and when you return it you’ll stick your tongue out at her. 

You smooth out the silk, shaking your head. “No I’ll be fine,” you tell him and Kuroo gives you a look, like he knows what you're planning. He probably does. 

The two of you step away from the car, the night air carries hints of caramelized sugar and popcorn, ticking your nose with a delightful scent. Kuroo offers you his arm and you take it, the rhythm of your steps falling into harmony as you enter the fair. 

“Do you remember this place? It was our first date,” Kuroo states, a little proud of himself for no reason in particular. 

You hesitate, a furrow forming between your brows. “First date?” you echo, a touch of confusion in your voice. Yes, you recall the outing, it was one of the very few times you’d ever hung out with a guy before that weren’t your siblings, filled with laughter and no particular expectations. 

“That was a date??” you gasp, asking again for clarification. 

“You didn’t think it was a date?” Kuroo asks, his face falls in astonishment and you shake your head, confirming that you did not think it was a date. “No?! I thought we were just two friends hanging out!”

“You thought it was just… friends?” he questions, his voice laced with disbelief at what he was hearing. Kuroo stops, turning to face you fully, his dark eyes searching yours for any sort of sign that you were joking. “It was only the two of us. I had everything planned out because I thought it was a date.”

Your heart skips a beat at his candidness. You do remember the effort he put in, but at the time you had chalked it up to his liking to plan down to the smallest detail. During the time, he was sure the two of you hit all the booths he thought you’d like but wasn’t that just because he cared?

“I just assumed you were being you,” you say, your voice feeling smaller now, unsure of what else to offer him. 

Kuroo gapes at you, the sudden vulnerability in his expression softening the air around you both. After a beat, he asks quietly, “Did you want it to be a date?”

The question hangs between you like a fragile thread, waiting to be snapped. You pause, the question making your head buzz. It was years ago, could acknowledging that yes, you wanted it to be a date change anything? “Does it even matter anymore?” you finally reply, evasively. 

You feel your heart racing, unsure of how to navigate this conversation with him.

The words build an awkward silence that thickens the air. You feel his eyes on you, probing gently but insistently for a truth you aren’t ready to reveal. Your chest tightens with a mixture of fear and unspoken longing and it feels like you’re drinking vinegar out of the bottle. 

To break the tension, you point towards a nearby stall, the vibrant colors familiar. “Hey, let’s go check that out,” you suggest, your voice light with forced enthusiasm. Anything to avoid this piercing moment. 

Kuroo’s gaze lingers on you for a moment more, filled with questions you aren’t ready to answer. With a slight shake of his head, he relents, his arm guiding you towards the stall. That’s how the two of you find yourselves standing at the jewelry stall, the vendor has a plethora of tiny gem bracelets, necklaces, and even rings with stunning designs, it takes your mind away from the conversation. 

Next to you, Kuroo picks up a delicate golden bracelet, its charm shaped like a heart, a perfect fit for you. Your heart flutters as he takes your wrist gently, his fingers brushing against your skin with a touch so soft it sends shivers down your spine. He carefully fastens the bracelet, the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of his touch. You can’t look away from his concentrated expression, and your pulse quickens at the intimacy of the moment.

With a wide grin, he places it around your wrist, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin, sending a cascade of warmth up your arm, leaving a trail of bumps. “It looks perfect on you,” Kuroo murmurs softly, making your heart flutter. 

“Are you insinuating that I’m a gold girl and not a silver one?” you say faking offense. The question confuses Kuroo, it’s evident in his face, “Does– Does it matter? I think you look pretty in both..?”

“I can’t believe you don’t know about jewelry theory! How do you gift your girlfriends jewelry?”

“You are the only woman I’m gifting jewelry.”

“oh.”

Despite your protests, he buys you the bracelet anyway. You assume it’s expensive, nothing in Tokyo is cheap– but just the feel of it is what makes you assume so, it’s definitely some sort of authentic, and even if it wasn't– the thought of it has your heart beating faster. Maybe it’s the way Kuroo pulled his card out like it was nothing, waving you off about the price, acting like it was nothing. Perhaps you are crazy. 

Thanking him, your voice catches slightly, and you hope he doesn’t hear the tremor of your accelerating heartbeat. After you thank him a hundred times and even offer him the opportunity to take it back and he declines, the two of you continue walking, the evening air turning crisper as the sky darkens. The breeze picks up, lifting strands of your hair and sending chills down your spine.

“Are you cold?” Kuroo asks, concern threading through his voice. It just now dawns on him that you’ve only been walking around with your dress and no cover— he doesn't even recall you having a jacket to begin with. He might have to have a word with your stylist when the night is over. 

“No, I’m fine,” you reply quickly, rubbing your arms in a futile attempt to generate warmth. The lie is evident, even to you, but you don’t want to admit your discomfort. It doesn’t bother you to much if you don’t think about it. 

Kuroo frowns, watching your movements carefully. “Are you sure?”

Smiling, you shake your head. “Really, Kuroo, I’m not cold.”

With a resigned sigh, he steps behind you. The warmth of his large hands meets your chilled shoulders, making you shiver involuntarily. Your arms are freezing.

 “Your shoulders say otherwise,” he murmurs, his voice closer now. The sound of something rustling fills your ears and you turn your head to find Kuroo removing his suit jacket.

Before you can protest, he drapes it over you with careful tenderness, ensuring it covers you fully. The weight and warmth of the coat are immediate, enveloping you like a shield against the night’s chill. Your body reacts on its own, melting into the fabric and letting it engulf your body. He steps in front, his eyes meeting yours with a focused intensity. You feel your cheeks heat up, the closeness of his presence making your heart race more fiercely.

He adjusts the coat, smoothing it over your shoulders and pulling it tight around you. Kuroo buttons up a few of the buttons, leaving the top part of your dress showing, to allow some cool air in. He doesn’t want you to overheat. His fingers brush your skin as he tucks stray strands of hair behind your ear, each touch lingering and deliberate. You realize how close you are, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. His eyes, so intently watching you, make it seem like you're the only two people in the bustling fair.

Kuroo smiles softly, his hand squeezing your shoulders, as he steps back reluctantly. “Can’t have you freezing before your big game,” he says, his eyes still holding yours.

“Wow, so you only like me so I can bring in views?” you ask, trying to tease him. 

“That and because you play well,” he plays along, making you grin and nudge his shoulder. 

The suit jacket settles on your shoulders, the warmth of it feels like an embrace. You knew the suit was going to be good when you picked it out for him and now you get to see it up close. The fabric has a nice smooth texture and not a single string is out of place. It falls past your hands, so much so that your fingers aren’t visible anymore.

The scent of it surrounds you, your favorite scent. A blend of something expensive, understated, and undeniably Kuroo. You take a deep breath, comforted and a little giddy at how it feels and smells.

“You know you’re going to freeze without this,” you tell him, half concerned, half happy he gave it to you.

For some reason, you want to read more into why he gave it to you, why he took the time to make sure you were comfortable and that it fit nicely, but you know Kuroo, and you know this is how he always acts. 

Always the gentleman, he’s always making sure everybody is okay, checking in all the time, ensuring that they are comfortable and cared for. He’s always giving his jacket away, so maybe that’s why a part of you doesn’t feel like the gesture can count as anything, whenever somebody wears something too short or forgets to bring something warm, he’s there, giving what he can away to help them.

You're not the exception, you doubt you’ll ever be. He just noticed because that’s who is he, Kuroo Tetsurou who pays attention to the smallest details. 

Kuroo Tetsurou who will drop what he’s doing to come to your aid whenever you need it. 

The genuine care in his voice sends a warm cascade of feelings through you, even warmer than the coat enveloping your frame.

the two of you continue walking through the thickening crowd.

While Kuroo points out stuff that reminds him of your date, you can’t help but notice the occasional lingering glances people throw his way. It doesn’t surprise you–they’re likely drawn to his tall, striking figure (the words of a magazine, definitely not something to describe you), his suit that highlights his broad shoulders, and your impeccable taste that went along with choosing the suit. . 

Kuroo always manages to stand out effortlessly, among the sea of curious and admiring faces, you feel a pang of self-consciousness. Like everyone that looks at him has to look at you, their eyes tearing you apart, judging and inspecting every little thing about you as if you weren’t good enough to be next to him.

Your gaze lifts to him, searching for comfort, and in an instant, you feel like you belong. Kuroo probably feels the harsh grip you have on him because he takes your hand off his sleeve and entertwines it with his own and squeezes, giving you a quick smile before focusing back on the crowd. You feel secure, wrapped in a blanket of warmth yet it was only his hand holding you. 

You’ve known Kuroo since high school and thought of him as a pain with how insistent he was with everything. Back then you kept to yourself, played the damn sport because you promised you would, hating every moment of it– until he showed up at your school unexpectedly, demanding that you let him show you the fun in volleyball.

That day in an instant, your heart knew something your mind couldn’t comprehend. He had been nothing more than another face in the back of your mind that you would see at tournaments, on the bus, on the train,  at work but now he’s the only face that you seek to see. He’s your anchor whenever the world around you spins out of control.

You never expected to get so attached. He slipped into your life like sunlight streaming through a window, slow and warming, until one day, you realized you couldn’t imagine existing without him. Kuroo gave you something no one else ever had, the feeling of love, of pure, unconditional, affection that made your heart feel both lighter and fuller. He taught you what it was like to be cherished, to be seen for who you were, and loved even more for it. When he looked at you, he didn’t see the struggling girl, he saw you in ways that you hadn’t seen yourself in years— strong, capable, worthy. He gave you peace in a world that constantly demanded more. 

Kuroo was the first person to make you feel like you were enough, that you deserved to be loved and wanted. The self-doubt that had built up over the years always seemed to dissipate whenever he held your hand when he would whisper, yell, and shout words of encouragement when he simply stood by your side. The uninterrupted conversations, the silent understanding that needed no words. 

Growing up, friends were a fleeting concept, an abstract idea that never solidified into reality for you. Perhaps that’s why the line between liking and loving Kuroo blurred so effortlessly. Your heart, thirsty for genuine connection, latched onto him, mistaking friendship for something deeper, until it was too late. You were already hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him. Entrenched in a love so deep it scared you.

You don’t know if you could ever love someone else the way you love him, with a passion so pure and a devotion so absolute. Your feelings for him are woven into the very fabric of your being. The very thought of anyone else fills you with an emptiness no one could possibly fill. When you glance back at him, Kuroo is already staring back at you with inquisitive eyes as if he’s trying to read what you're thinking. 

“What? Is there something on my face?” Kuroo asks, raising an eyebrow. 

You shake your head, trying to come up with a response to explain the unwanted and unreasonable staring. “No you’re just ugly,” you tell him and pat his back, providing comfort. Kuroo gives you an invidious look and you have to fight back a smile. 

You continue to walk hand in hand with Kuroo past the bustling array of games, it catches you by surprise how each game is the same from all those years ago, and your eyes catch sight of a ballon game. The brightly colored balloons are blown up in a star formation set up in several rows so several people can play at once. Your attention is immediately drawn toward a pink giant stuffed teddy bear displayed among the smaller prizes. There is a pink one and a purple one and it looks like they are holding hands.

“Look at that bear,” you muse, pointing. “It’s so cute! Reminds me of the one you won me when we first came here.”

“You still have that one?” Kuroo chuckles, his eyes following your pointer finger to the bear.

“Duh, of course, I still have it.”

He nods, bringing you over to the vendor, who has already noticed your interest and is looking for an attempted cash grab. “Care for a go?” he asks, a knowing smile tugging it the corners of his lips, thinking he’s gotten another set of victims.

Without hesitating, Kuroo nods. He turns to you with a playful glint in his eyes, his hands tugging up the sleeves of his shirt that had started to fall. You admire his hands as he does it, they’re so big and the action is so casual that it has your mind wondering, “Do you think I’ve still got it?”

You fold your arms and raise an eyebrow, pretending to appraise his biceps. “Probably. With all those muscles you have, you better.”

The vendor hands him a few darts, and you watch from farther back as he effortlessly lines up his first throw. To win, he has to pop the entire thing and can only miss three times, you think it’s a rip-off but won’t say anything since Kuroo is so determined to win. 

You might console him if he fails rather than laughing in his face.

The first dart he throws slices through the air and pops a ballon with a precise, satisfying burst. People nearby who were walking started to take notice, almost as if they were cheering him on. One by one, each remaining dart finds it’s target, every ballon popping in quick succession. It was so perfect that even the vendor was taken a back, he couldn’t even rig the game with how impressed he was. 

“Don’t miss!” you shout, offering him some support and Kuroo flips you off.

The last ballon bursts before you know it, Kuroo turns to you with a smuggest grin on his face before turning back to tell the vendor which bear he wants. Of course, he gets you the pink one, and he holds it out for you to take. “For you sweetheart,” he says softly. 

You take the bear, the fur is soft against your skin and it’s huge, almost as tall as your waist and up.  “Thank you,” you whisper, clutching the plush toy to your chest, feeling a warmth spread to your cheeks and through your chest. It reminds you of the way you felt all those years ago when he had first won you a bear, a giddy excitement bubbles up as if you were a school girl all over again. 

Clutching the bear tightly, an idea pops into your head, and you find yourself turning to Kuroo with a mischievous grin. “Do you want one too?” you ask, your eyes sparkling. 

Surprised, he tilts his head, looking between you and the bear you’ve nestled securely in your arms. “Do you think you can do it?” he asks, amusement laced in his tone. “Last time I checked, you were terrible at darts.”

You gasp, taken aback by his accusation. “How dare you! Playing beer darts does not count. You hit all of them and just left me drunk! That’s why I miss,” you retort, frowning and pressing the bear he just won you against his chest. You step towards the vendor, determined to prove him wrong. 

“I wanna have a go,” you announce confidently, too confidently, making Kuroo laugh.

The vendor nods and starts to collect the darts that Kuroo has used. Mimicking Kuroo, you roll up your imaginary sleeves, your eyes have fire in them and you breath in and out. “Stand back,” you tell Kuroo, tossing a glance over your shoulder at him. “Watch me work my magic.”

Kuroo chuckles, the sound filled with affection and amusement, his gaze softening as he watches you. The vendor hands you the darts, their weight unfamiliar in your palm. Trying to recall any tips or techniques, you take a deep breath, aiming carefully at the colorful balloons. 

To your astonishment, the first dart flies through, popping a ballon. You blink momentarily stunned, but you quickly regain your composure. You hadn’t expected to hit it, you were actually thinking you were going to miss it.

You channel an inner confidence you didn’t know you had, lining up each dart with a sort of clumsy precision, tossing each of them with your thoughts and prayers and hoping for the best. When the last balloon bursts, you can hardly believe it and neither can Kuroo. He was secretly hoping you’d miss and he’d look cooler. 

Your mouth drops open, and you can barely contain your excitement. Suddenly, you're jumping up and down, your excitement bubbling over. “I did it! Look, Kuroo, I fucking did it!” you exclaim, turning towards him with an expression of pure joy and fist bumping the sky. He chuckles at your reaction, loving how wide your smile and the excitement in you. 

The vendor hands you the other large bear and you clap your hands happily. Beaming, you swap bears with Kuroo, checking which one is cuter before trading off of course. “I’m actually impressed,” he says, a singular brow raised and the corner of his lip curved upwards as he watches you giggle over the bears. “Have you been playing beer darts without me?”

You shake your head even though you know he’s just joking, “Beginners luck, what can I say? You just suck.” You tell him, lifting your arm up to flex your muscles in his face, “Oh my god. Get away from me,” he shudders, shoving you away with one hand to your face.

Kuroo had led you to an ice cream vendor after you both had looked at almost everything the fair had to offer, just like you did the first time the two of you came together all those years ago. There’s still a family in front of you by the time you get in line, so you take the opportunity to look at the menu, trying to find a flavor you’d like. 

“Two cones please,” Kuroo asks, taking out his wallet. “I can pay!” you say eagerly, hoping to pay him back for the bracelet, the ticket, the darts, and everything else he bought you today. 

He shoots you a look, one that deflates your happiness and you tuck the wallet back from where it came from. “Forgive me for offering jeez. Can’t a girl pay you back?”

“No, you can’t. Stop trying,” he says while paying for the ice cream. The vendor nods along while you tell him your order and immediately starts scoping. 

While you wait Kuroo puts a hand on your shoulder, tugging you closer to him as some people walk by, “Are you excited for the Olympics?”

Your eyes light up. “Yes! I cannot wait to play in Paris. The city of looooove!” you say drawing out the last word as if it alone holds all the romance in the world. 

“Is that your only reason?” he asks with a chuckle, admiring the way your eyes widen and twinkle at the mention.

“Of course not! I get to compete and crush the other teams. I actually have high hopes for both the women's and the male teams this year,” you nudge him. 

You don’t get to say anything else as the vendor hands you and Kuroo your ice cream cones. He had gotten Chocolate Fudge, a classic. Kuroo likes anything if it has some sort of chocolate in it, he refuses to try any other flavor. On the other hand, you had gotten cookie dough.

“Thank you,” the two of you tell the man before leaving to find a seat. 

You make your way through the crowd, following along behind Kuroo’s tall imposing figure. There’s a group of tables nearby that have a beautiful view of the whole fair. The horizon is awash with the twinkling lights of the fair and all its displays. 

“Are you not excited to go to the Olympics?” you ask Kuroo, standing next to him as he cleans the seat for you not to ruin your dress. Only once it’s clean to what he thinks is perfection does he allow you to sit, but not before he fixes his suit jacket so that you aren’t at all touching the seat. 

He’d hate to see the dress ruined. 

Kuroo glances back up at you, “I am excited. I have the team's schedule lined up already. A few sponsor commercials, magazine shoots, video takes, and lots and lots of interviews–”

“Stop right there. I don’t want to hear it,” you groan. The least memorable part of being a celebrity athlete has to be the interviews. You hate them, your team hates them, and you don't know anybody who likes them besides maybe Bokuto, Hinata, and Atsumu, but that's self-explanatory. 

The last interview you did left a distasteful feeling in your stomach. The guy was a total jerk, interviewing women just to stroke his ego. He would only ask more personal questions, most of them were about your body and your looks, leaving you uncomfortable the entire time. You didn’t even get to finish it because Kuroo interrupted the interview to yell at the dude and tell him off for wasting everybody's time. You’d never seen him so angry before, he was more angry than you were. 

“You asked, princess,” he says, taking a bite out of his ice cream, a habit of his that you hate. 

“I’m unasking. Stop telling me.” Kuroo chuckles and you watch him fetch his phone from his pocket, your eyes glance over the name that appears on his screen and your heart hurts.

You’ve been itching to know about his relationship with that woman. If it meant something, Kuroo would have said so, or if he didn’t tell you, he would at least tell Kenma something who then would relay the information to you, but there has been nothing but silence.

The only way you knew about the two of them was from the stupid insider articles that had mentioned the chemistry between them too. Himari was popular in her division, a strong leader with a mature attitude and a gorgeous face.

Kuroo was in a similar predicament. His popularity started in high school and rose when he was featured in one of Kenna’s streams, the fans loved him and people loved him even more when he brought together all the players from your generation, the monster generation in a big group match-up. It was a pro that he was also extremely attractive and charming.

“Do you think we’ll have some off time? In Between games and interviews?” you ask, trying to get his attention again. Hoping you’ll be able to distract him from the fact that the two of you should be returning to the gala any time soon now. You don’t want to leave just yet, just a few more minutes with him alone will suffice. 

Kuroo hums, swiping left on the message from Himari and shutting his phone off “Pretty sure you would. Why?”

“Sakusa invited me to hang out with him, but we haven’t decided on a date yet–”

“Sakusa? Wants you to hang out with him?” Kuroo repeats, with a scowl. He fucking knew it. Knew that motherfucker would have made his move soon if he didn’t already, and this was his confirmation. Kenma had warned him about the two of you, but he didn’t believe it. 

“Why’d you say it like that?” you respond, raising an eyebrow in surprise that he cut you off. 

“Because it’s Sakusa Kiyoomi. He hates doing, I don’t know, everything,” he tried to downplay his concern with a half-heated smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. But jealousy, an unfamiliar yet persistent feeling, was creeping in. 

It’s weird for Kuroo. He’s never been jealous of you hanging out with other guys before. The feeling is more of a sad ache in his heart, rather than the raging feeling that is bubbling up inside of him. Maybe it’s the fact that you and Sakusa go way back like your relationship with his was. The two of you went to the same school, you probably spent hours upon hours with him back then. Kuroo took up a lot of your time outside of school, but he will never know what happened during school hours. Or at those training camps, where the two of you were always selected to go together. 

For no reason at all, Kuroo feels beyond frustrated. 

You laugh, your hair falling over your shoulder softly, it’s halfway accurate. “Those are just rumors. He’s actually really active, Sakusa just likes doing stuff at home. Like last week me, him, Atsumu, Suna, and Osamu had a party at his house. It was really fun.”

So that was why you brushed him and Kenma off that one time. He bites into the cone of his ice cream in frustration at the realization. 

“So are you going out with him?” Kuroo asks, his words are quick, almost impatient waiting for an answer. For the first time in Kuroo’s life, he’s felt at a loss for something. 

“Huh?” confusion was written all over your face. Where did he even get that idea from.“Going out?”

“Are you two together?”

“Uh no, We’re just friends. You would know if I was going out with anybody.” you narrow your eyes, scrutinizing him, trying to decipher the sudden shift in Kuroo’s demeanor. Confused on why he was asking you this and what he’d hope to get out of it. 

“Good, don’t go out with him,” Kuroo tells you, finishing the rest of his cone. It comes off more forcefully than he intended, but he wants you away from Sakusa, as fast as possible. Suddenly the idea of letting you go and move on is no longer an option in his mind. 

“What..? Why not?” 

“Do you need a reason?” He huffs, looking away from you. 

“No… I won’t go out with him if you tell me not to,” you nudge his shoulder with your free hand. “But I would like a reason,” you retort.

His throat tightened. “You’ve listened to me before with other guys. Why not now?”

“Because Sakusa is different,” your voice was steady. Almost defiant.

“If you keep hanging out with him, more articles are going to come out about the two of you,”  Kuroo says, trying to keep his tone calm, but the urgency seeped through. A pit was forming in his stomach, and Kuroo couldn’t believe he was actually jealous at the thought of you getting with Sakusa. A sense of dread lingered, one that he couldn’t shale. It felt like he was losing you, piece by piece, with each passing moment and he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for Sakusa and me to hang out. The articles have always existed, I get shipped with almost everybody else like Hinata, Kenma,  and even you. So if the media says Kenma and I are together, would you believe that? See? Maybe—“

And Kuroo feels like if he doesn’t say something now, he might explode. He knows love is patient. He’s been waiting all his life, but if he doesn’t say something now, he feels like he might live the rest of his life in regret. 

Fuck what he said about moving on because he simply cannot do it. 

It needs to be you. 

Kuroo needs you in his life. 

He doesn’t want just to be your friend or bestfriend, not an old teammate nor classmate. Not a fleeting memory in the background but as the person she could always turn to without question. The thought of a future where you aren’t by his side, nitpicking at him, complaining, yelling at him for not knowing how to cut fruit, laughing by his side, clinging to him, is one he doesn’t want—a void he couldn’t comprehend. 

You're his constant, a lighthouse guiding him through the crashing waves of life. Kuroo can’t imagine navigating life without your light, your laugh, and your endless support. You aren’t just the women he loves; you are his soulmate, the missing piece that’s always been there, what he’s been searching for. 

He swallows hard, gathering his thoughts and pushing away any negative thoughts. 

“Because I like you. No, no, no, not even that. I’m in love with you.”

“What?” 

Your ice cream almost falls out of your hand, and all you can do is turn to Kuroo, looking at him with extreme confusion and utter shock. It feels as if someone has thrown cold water on you.

“I have loved you from the moment you walked into the school gym looking for Karasuno’s coach, from the moment you told me how you felt about volleyball, from the moment you let me into your heart and let me see the side of you that nobody else had seen before.

“It’s always been you. Whenever I see you, my heart speeds up. When we touch, I get this warmth that I can’t explain. My heart feels full whenever I’m in your presence, like it’s about to burst.”

You remain silent, the ice cream in your hand melting and forgotten. Your lips are slightly parted in shock. 

“I–”

He continued, not wanting to hear your response regardless of whether you reciprocated his feelings or not. The words just started spilling out like a dam that had finally burst. “I want to live the rest of my with you. I want to wake up next to you and share every tiny moment, every laugh, every tear, every failure with out. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life. “You bring out the best in me, you make me want to be a better man.”

Frozen, you were frozen, body, mind, and everything else. Your heart pounded in your chest a you tried to formulate words, anything, something to tell Kuroo how you felt. The pulse in your body was so loud, drowning out almost everything at the fair. 

“Kuroo–”

“Do you remember that one day when you asked me what it feels like to fall in love?” Kuroo asks you, and your eyes drift from the ice cream to him, he meets your gaze instantly only because he is already looking. Looking as if you were the only thing in the world, the only thing worth looking at.

You nod, the day at the airport flooding back in, when you asked that ridiculous question, hoping and praying to make something more out of your friendship. Except you never thought that it would ever come to this. 

“I couldn’t answer you back then. I told you it was because I had never experienced love, but it was such a lie,” he huffs. Reaching a hand out to brush your hair from your face so he could see all of you, the person he loved so much that at times his heart felt like it was overflowing. 

“Back then, I thought it was normal to feel this way. I thought that friends would make you feel this warm inside, make your heart speed up, make you wish you were always in their presence, make my every living moment seem so significant.”

“But it wasn’t normal. It’s anything but normal actually— this isn’t normal, princess. Nobody jokes around with their friends like we do, the silent glances, secret touches, the compliments, princess.” Kuroo runs a hand through his already messed-up hair, biting his lip softly before continuing. 

“You had me going crazy, because nothing we’ve ever done was normal, and you know that, I know you do.”

“I told you I didn’t know what love feels like because all I’ve ever felt was it. I didn’t know what it felt like without it because I’ve always had you,” he confessed, his voice breaking slightly. Kuroo took hold of your hand, squeezing it softly for reassurance that he was doing the right thing. You squeezed back and allowed him to continue, still somewhat in shock that this was happening. “You were always there, and so was my love for you. I didn’t need anything else.”

“I’ve been so afraid of losing you,” he admitted, saying words that the both of you felt. “I thought that admitting how I felt would ruin everything. That I would never be enough for you, that I would hold you back, and the thought of not having you in my life was just too much to bear.”

His hand tightens around yours, “Every single day, I told myself I could live with being just your friend, that it was better to have you close than to risk everything. Every moment with you has been both a blessing and such fucking torment because all I could think about was how much—”

His words were cut off abruptly as you leaned towards him, your lips finding him in a tender kiss. At that moment the world seemed to fade away, and there was only the soft, intoxicating warmth of Kuroo against your skin. It was a soft, tentative kiss– an innocent gesture, like the delicate brush of a butterfly’s wings. Large hands settle themselves firmly on your waist, squeezing softly. 

When you finally pull back, your breaths mingled in the scant space between you. Kuroo searched your face for any sign of regret, but only found a reflection of the same emotions that had torn him open. “Thank you,” you smile tenderly, emotions bundling up that it’s hard to speak properly.

“I’m never going to doubt myself ever again,” Kuroo smiles, and it’s so beautiful. Your favorite thing in the world, causing you to giggle at his sentence, silently agreeing with it. “You deserve everything in the world, and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you meant everything to me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your lips quivered as you tried to formulate the rush of worlds and feelings swirling inside of you. “I think,” you pause, swallowing hard, struggling to keep your voice steady, “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that since forever. I dreamt about it, thought about it, hoped for it, and now that it’s happened, it seems so unreal.”

You took in a shuddering breath, the reality of the moment hitting you in waves and before you knew it, the tears you were trying to hold but came like a flood. Each one is evidence of the feelings you had tried to keep hidden, to push back, to the unnamed hope you dared to harbor in your heart. 

He gently lifts your chin with his fingers, bringing your faces closer until your foreheads touch, the warmth of his skin melting the icy shook that had gripped her. His hands gently wipe away the tears, the touch so light and tender. “It’s very much real, sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

Kuroo places his hand behind your head, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer with a soft but insistent pressure. Your lips met again, but this time it wasn’t timid. It was a reaffirmation, a promise sealed by the eagerness in the kiss. Your hands instinctively wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer still as if you feared the moment might have been a fleeting dream. He was so real, here, with you. The solidity of him reassured you, grounding you here in this moment. Your heart was pounding, so hard it almost hurt. The realization that your hearts have always gravitated towards each other, just waiting for the right moment. 

When you finally broke the kiss again, the two of you were breathing heavily, unable to let go of one another, uncaring of what the people around you were thinking or doing. “I love you, Kuroo Tetsurou,” you whispered. The words felt so right, so perfect coming out of your tongue. The words you’ve been waiting to say forever now but were so afraid to do it. 

“I love you too,” he replies, nudging your nose with his as he presses his lips to the corner of your eyes, kissing your tears away. “So much.” 

You're practically buzzing. Walking hand in hand with Kuroo, except it feels different now. Your head is resting on his arm, while you're wrapped snugly in his suit coat, feeling like you're on cloud nine as the two of you head out of the fair and towards his car. 

Despite having to head back to the gala, you were happier than ever. So overwhelmingly happy that any minor inconvenience paled in comparison to your joy. That’s maybe why you didn’t feel the ache in your foot until now, it was bearable before, but it was starting to get too much to the point where you had to stop and stare down at your feet. 

“I think I actually did something to my ankle with those heels,” you whine, staring down at your poor feet in the funky shoes. Your ankle feels like it’s been rubbed raw, and every sudden moment hurts like a bitch.

Kuroo halts immediately, concern etching itself on his face as he rubs at his eyebrows. “Gosh, I knew I should have brought an extra pair for you,” he sighs, frustration in his voice, not at you, but at himself for being so careless. Without wasting another second, he bent down to inspect your foot. One hand lifts the helm of the white dress a little so that the other one can wrap around your foot to inspect it. 

You rest one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, slightly wincing as he feels around the tender skin and when he presses on a certain spot you let out a sharp hiss of pain. “Did that hurt?” he asked but already knew the answer. 

“What do you think numbskull?!” you shot back with a pinch to his shoulder. Your retort made him chuckle, the soft laughter vibrating through her fingers and easing some of the tension from the pain. 

“Alright, come here,” he says, an affectionate smile lighting up his face. In one smooth motion, he stood up and swept you off your feet carrying you bridal style in his arms. The action was effortless, Kuroo didn’t struggle at all to pick you up. Your heart swelled even more at the gesture. 

You looped your arms around his neck, your head resting against the curve of his throat. The closeness was maddening, the gentle sway as he walked, the beating of his heart– the overwhelming feeling was coming back again. 

By the time you reached his car, the throbbing had lessened, only due to the lack of usage on your legs. Kuroo eased you into the passenger seat, making sure that your foot was elevated on his dashboard and making sure you were comfortable. Before closing the door, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then to your lips. 

Kuroo opens the back door to stuff your matching teddy bears inside, buckling the two of them in together. Once he’s fixed himself in the driver's seat, Kuroo glances over to you with a half smile, “We need to get you home so you can ice it.” He insists, turning the key in the ignition, allowing the car to hum to life. 

“But what about the event?” you hop up to ask, face scrunching up when your ankle shifts slightly. Kuroo places a hand on your chest, settling you back down. 

You already felt bad for making him ditch earlier to come to the fair, and now you weren’t going back at all? You feel guilty like you're ruining his moment for him to take care of you. 

“Could care less. Your injury is more important to me,” he states, like a matter of fact. His eyes meet you briefly before he turns his head back to reverse the car out of the parking spot with one hand. 

“But you spent so much time planning–”

“Sweetheart,” he interrupted, his hand gently cupping her cheek. The touch was soothing, a warm wave washing over your troubled heart, making your nerves calm down while also causing your heart to beat faster. You practically melted into his touch, pressing your cheek more firmly against his palm.“You are more important to me than any event or gala. I’d rather spend my time, here, taking care of you, than anywhere else.”

There's no room for any argument after that, he shuts it down with a quick kiss on your lips before he focuses up back on the road. You settle down in the seat eyes watching both Kuroo and the street lights outside as he drives. One hand is settled on your thigh, his fingers subconsciously 

“Kuroo I don’t know if you know this. But this is not the way to my place." “I know sweetheart. We are going to mine.”

Arriving at the building, Kuroo parks in his private section, getting out quickly so that he can help you out. He carries you in his arms despite your meek protests, you burry your face in his chest to hide from the people at the desk that Kuroo passes by and greets— even chats with for a second and she greets you in recognition before heading to the elevator and telling the worker his floor number. 

It was so embarrassing to be carried up like this, but Kuroo seemed to care less, not finding it troublesome at all.

Once off the elevator Kuroo takes you to his massive door, he puts you down for a moment to pull out his keycard for the door. You're already shoving past him and entering the place, “Home sweet home!”

One step inside and you’ve already forgotten about your injured ankle which is why you almost trip and fall. Luckily Kuroo reaches out, catching you with a firm arm around your waist. “Careful,” he mutters softly into your ear, his voice is a little breathy, probably from having you pressed up against him. Kuroo places a quick kiss on the shell of your ear, causing you to giggle before steadying yourself while he lets you go to lock the door behind him. 

You enter the open space more carefully now, as per Kuroo’s request. The open living room space is dark due to the lights being off, but the lights from the city lighten it up and paint a beautiful view through his windows. His place was so sophisticated though currently a little messy, which you bet is due to his consistent planning recently. 

Without missing another beat, you made your way to his bedroom and flipped down on Kuroo’s bed with a squeal. You’ve spent countless nights here, when your bed didn’t feel comfy enough or whenever you had gotten lonely in your own home. His was like an escape, probably more of a home than your own.

Kuroo watches you from the doorway, his bigger frame leaning up against the trim watching you sprawl out, his eyes soften at how comfortable you look in his home. It makes his heart swell.

“Your bed is so much more comfier than mine,” you sigh dreamily into his sheet.

“So you’ve said.”

He strides inside his room, heading straight to you, making you sit up with curiosity. Bending down in front of you, his fingers find the straps of your heels, unbuckling them in a gentle manner and sliding them off of your feet. 

His warm hands, gently examine your foot now that he has a better view and has you situated in a comfy position.

“That hurts! Are you trying to reinjure me?” you whine and squirm when Kuroo continues to press down on a certain spot, checking to see if your injury is bruised or inflamed or if you hurt it worse by wearing those ridiculous hills today. The complaints leave your lips one by one and Kuroo pays no mind to them, semi-lost in the sight of your lips forming into a pout. 

He thinks you're so so adorable.

You look perfect, bathed in the soft light of his penthouse. He’s too distracted, that’s probably why the words leave his mouth before he can register it. “You’re being all cute and sweet, it makes me really want to kiss you.”

The words hang in the air between you two, you seem frozen by them but Kuroo is less fazed and you realize how awestruck he really looks. Your cheeks flush, the heat is evident and your eyes widen in surprise. 

That’s why your lips meet again, it’s a soft kiss at first, with an innocent intent behind it. One that becomes ravishing fast, Kuroo tilts his head to get a better angle, his hand sliding up your thigh, your dress, all the way up until it reaches your chest. 

You pull back first, out of breath, foreheads touching one another, his cheeks are flushed and you imagine yours are too. “I—” his lips find yours again, tongue sliding against your lower lip then he bites down on the bottom lip, forcing a squeal out of you, that he swallows right up. 

He takes the chance and slips his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every crevice he can. The kiss is intense, and passionate, lacking urgency but the fire between you two is there and apparent.The kiss was dizzying and so were the following ones after.  

Breaking apart, he places a chaste kiss on your nose and then on your lips. “Tetsurou—” you start but are cut off by Kuroo kissing you, a slow lingering touch. It’s like he is insensible, drunk on the taste of you. 

It keeps going like that, the kisses become sloppy and more hungry, Kuroo is grabbing at you and your arm is wrapped around his neck while the other one is tangled into his hair. 

He leans into you, slowly pushing you down onto the mattress but when you whimper into a kiss, he recollects himself, trying to tug away but your wrapped arm brings him back every time. “We,” kiss. “Should,” kiss. “Fuck sweetheart—,” kiss. “Stop,” kiss. 

“No,” you whisper to him, lips ghosting his. You can practically feel the smirk on his mouth as he urges yours open again. He licks the inside, tongue sliding against yours as he words. “You’re injured.”

“Make me feel better than,” you mumble, allowing your mouths to connect again. Your lips move fluidly on each other, and Kuroo’s fingers trace your jaw. Kuroo chuckles against your lips, a sound you messily suck up, he pulls off to press kisses onto your face, allowing your heart to flutter within your chest. 

You look gorgeous like this, swollen lips from all the kissing, hazy doe eyes, waiting for his next move, and your chest heaving so heavily. Such a sight. You’re his sight. A messy one too Kuroo thinks to himself as he wipes a bit of spit from your lips. 

He moves to kiss along your jawline, grabbing your chin to keep you in place despite your whines and whimpers. He gets lower and lower until he’s able to lick a stripe up your neck that has you trembling in his gasp. “Tetsurou—”

“Nu uh, sweetheart. You wanted me to make you feel better, yeah?” he responds, continuing to kiss and nibble at your chest. 

With Kuroo on top of you like this, you took the opportunity to let your hand wander over his body, touching and squeezing what you could as he proceeded to leave open mouth kisses everywhere on you. 

You fiddle with the buttons of his suit jacket, unbuttoning them as you reach down further and further, yanking the vest off and then helping him toss his dress shirt over his head. 

From underneath Kuroo, you admire the view. Hands sliding up his stomach, tracing the outlines of his abs, perfect and surprisingly intact, his gorgeous tan skin— his stomach tenses under your touch. Kuroo pants heavily from on top of you, from all the kisses, his hair a mess due to your hands finding their way there, and his face is decorated with red lipstick. 

Bringing your lips closer to his face, you press a quick kiss to the cheek, his mouth finding yours, as one of your hands lowers until it comes into contact with his belt. You trace a finger down from his happy trail all the way down to his crotch, cupping the bulge that had formed there. 

“Aaah, fuck.” Kuroo hisses when your palm presses up on him. "Feel that? It's just for you, sweetheart.”

Without a second thought, Kuroo gets up and off of you, standing by the edge of the bed before gently dragging you over to him. You giggle in response, liking the view you have of him like this. 

“Can I?” you purr, already unbuckling his belt, not waiting for another word. Kuroo chuckles at your eagerness, “Ah— slow down princess.” But you don’t listen to him, already tugging his slacks down after tossing the belt out of your sight. 

When you get Kuroo’s boxers down (not very far) you’re too busy marveling at him to do anything. Now, you knew Kuroo was huge, he was already massive in general, and you’ve heard rumors from other girls in his department (he also had a scandal about it) but seeing it in person is so different. 

His cock hangs heavy, long and wide, twitching and throbbing, with pearly white precum seeping out of his flush pink tip. There are several veins run up his cock, stopping when they reach the end, Kuroo is leaking so much that you’re afraid it might start dripping onto the floor. 

To be frank, his size is intimidating. You haven’t taken anyone near his size, and you haven’t slept with anybody in a while. He was going to rip you apart. 

“You gonna stare at it all night sweetheart?” Kuroo asks, a hand finding its way to your head, patting you yet guiding you closer to his cock at the same time. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and take a grab at his cock, wrapping your hand around his base, not even covering most of it, and for sure your fingers can’t close around it. Kuroo lets out a low hiss when you squeeze him attentively. 

It twitches, more precum leaking out when you start to stroke your fingers in a teasing motion. A laugh escapes your throat at his expression, eyes slant glaring down at you, you can tell he’s about to say something but you shut him up with a kiss to his tip. 

You start to pepper tender kisses along his cock, enjoying how it twitches in your smaller grasp, how Kuroo wants to say something so badly, but he knows, he knows he’s huge, so he allows you to take your time to do whatever you want with him. Whatever makes you satisfied he’s happy with, even if he has to put his own pleasure aside.

“Fuuuuck princess,” he groans when you lick a stripe up his length back to the tip, wrapping your mouth around the flushed pink, and slimming your cheeks down in a sucking motion. You take the opportunity to grasp both hands around him, starting up in a stroking motion, twisting and turning gently, causing Kuroo to let out a loud moan and throw his head back. 

This must be what heaven is like, Kuroo thinks when you start to take him even further down your throat, inch by inch, flattening your tongue and running it on the underside 0f his cock. He can tell you are struggling, tears are already pricking in your eyes. 

“You look so cute struggling on my cock like this sweetheart.”

You're able to get a few more inches of him in your mouth before he hits the back of your throat, forcing you to gag, but not enough for you to pull off. "Oh, you like that?"

A whine escaped from your stuffed mouth, the vibrations moving on Kuroo’s cock made him moan slightly. A bit flustered from his words, you hollow your cheeks and start to bob your head up and down. 

The movement is addicting, watching you suck so carefully, Kuroo can tell that you're trying your uttermost best to keep your teeth away from his cock. Though he wouldn’t mind a bit of pain— but that’s for next time. His cheeks are flushed, a dark red hue, that he’s sure looks terribly unflattering on him, but it’s hard to focus when your working magic on his cock like this.

Kuroo fills your mouth so deliciously, cock hogging up every bit of space inside, accidentally hitting the back of your throat every time, you try and push deeper on him. He’s so warm, hot, and heavy on your tongue, and each one of his moans only spurs you on further. “Gosh, princess.”

“F-fuck,” he mumbles softly as you continue to bob your head, the action allows you to feel every bit of him while you suck down on him as hard as possible that your cheeks start to hurt. There’s saliva starting to drip down from your lips, some of it meets with the tears that have started to fall, running your makeup in the process. 

Hips softly buck into your mouth, not trying to make you gag, but the pace you’ve set for yourself and him is spurring him on, making him reach his high sooner. The bedroom is filled with dirty, wet sounds, Kuroo’s soft, rough moans combined with the squelching of your mouth on him.  “haaahh, you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart.”

You grin up at Kuroo when his hand finds its way to the back of your head, slightly shoving you closer. You don’t allow him to, instead pulling off until your mouth is enclosed around his tip again and swirling it this time, teasing him just to drive him further to insanity and closer to his high. 

Kuroo lets out a deep moan when you lick along a specific vein of his before taking him all down your throat in one go, the action has him letting out a plethora of curses, some of which you’ve never heard before. The hand that was gently placed on the back of your head moved again, smoothing away the flyaway hair on your forehead. Through strained eyes and an agape mouth, Kuroo manages to catch sight of you struggling to fit the rest of his cock in your throat. 

Such a sight to see. He feels like he’s getting impossibly harder while watching you. 

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

You’re forced to settle on the several inches already in your mouth, continuing to bob your head on his length, you find out that Kuroo’s veins are more sensitive than you could have imagined. Every stroke of your tongue or fingers against them has him groaning and bucking his hips into your mouth— just how you want it.

You pick up the pace once you notice him getting closer, an obvious sign due to the high-pitched moans that are dropping from his lips and the way his abdomen clenches and unclenches, it’s a sight to behold to you, as you watch Kuroo’s body shudder and tense. “Fucking hell–” he shudders, throwing his head back and shoving you further down on him. 

He works your mouth like that for a little while longer, your throat constricting around him as his warm cum spills down your throat without warning. “Fuck–shit. Sorry about that, sweetheart,” Kuroo says, allowing you to pull your mouth off him. You swallow up every last drop that he gives you, a bit salty. You hum to yourself while wiping off any access and licking it off. 

“You’re way too good at that,” Kuroo comments, smiling when you reach up to kiss him. Your lips move rhymaticially and you bite him while pulling off. He helps you off of your knees just to press a few kisses over your messy face, grinning ear to ear at the damage he’s done. “Just for you,” you giggle, kissing him again and allowing him to tilt your head so that he can deepen the kiss that you moan into. 

“You want to keep going, princess?”

You nod eagerly, just wanting him to touch you already. So desperate for anything he’d give you. 

You allow Kuroo to help you out of your dress, he turns you around, a warm palm coming to gently massage the exposed skin of your back. He works his way up to the straps of your dress, lowering them off your shoulders, pressing sweet kisses to the area where they hindered on your skin, he follows a trail down your back making you shift and arch slightly at the feeling.

Kuroo’s fingers tease your skin softly as he unzips the back portion, allowing the dress to fall down your body, leaving you in your lingerie and exposing you to him. The feeling of being so exposed in front of him is nerve-racking and Kuroo doesn’t help when he’s just looking at you– not saying anything. 

Without realizing it, you pressed your thighs together almost instinctively.

“Huh, all pretty up and dolled underneath there,” He says, tracing a pattern up your exposed leg all the way to your underwear. The soft fabric feels nice against his fingertips–definitely something expensive, Kuroo hooks a finger underneath it and tugs a little just to let it slap against your skin, causing you to yelp. “Tetsu–”

He cuts you off, stepping closer to you. Your eyes follow as he towers over you, blocking the already dimmed light from his bedroom, “Who’s this for huh?” 

“Sakusa maybe?” His hands start roaming up and down your skin, each touch feels like fire, leaving a shimmering path against your skin. Your eyes shoot open at the mention of your friend, only so that you can glare at him.

“It might–” He continued to move his hand up your inner thigh until it was a few inches from your wet panties without taking his eyes off you. 

Kuroo smacks your ass and you let out a loud whimper. He gropes the tender skin with such fervor you start to wonder who is more affected here. 

“Who’s it for sweetheart? Who has you wearing such a cute fucking set underneath that sinful dress?”

“You–!” you choke out. “You, Tetsurou. I wore it for you...”

“Good girl,” He smirks at your response before picking you up to gently set you down on the bed, being mindful of your ankle. He positions you so that you are lying on your back, head laid out in between his pillows and your leg resting on his hip. 

Your breath hitches as you watch him. The want in your eyes is so abundantly clear to him, that he can practically see the anticipation building withith them every second. His hand moves down to your panties again, the warmth of his fingers ghosting over your sensitive area had your body twitching already. 

He sucks in his teeth when his fingers finally touch you– even if it’s only over the fabric. 

“You're wet. So fucking wet. I knew it…” His hands, ever so slowly, rub your covered slit, soaking through and you gush even more at the touch. It’s embarrassing how he hasn’t done anything yet, and you're already acting like this. The rough pads of his fingers press at your hole, almost swallowing him inside if not for the barrier of your panties. 

He doesn’t stop teasing your entrance, even as his thumb brushes against your fabric-covered clit, Kuroo watches with a predatory gleam in his eyes, closely as you whine and twitch again, your eyes flutter shut at the sweet sensation. 

Kuroo must be testing your patience because he refuses to actually touch you. All he does is tease you through your underwear, toying with your entrance as if he wanted to drive you mad off of a few touches. His eyes are completely focused on how you twitch each him he touches you, his teasing, slow touches might just be the death of you. He wants to wait, and savor the moment but you want nothing but for him to stuff you full right now.

“Kuroo fucking Tetsurou if you don’t shove your fingers in my pussy right now I will shove mine up your a—” His smirk grows, and the way your brows furrow in frustration was cute. So cute. It almost made him want to continue to mess around, but for your sake and yours only he seems to oblige. 

"Hmm, you're not very patient, are you?" He chuckles, shifting down to press a kiss against your stomach, he keeps kissing your skin until he reaches the skin right before your underwear, and he bites, causing you to yelp and kick at the unexpected touch. His teeth hook on your underwear, lifting up your legs so that he can pull them off of you in one swift go.

You watch him intensely as he goes, the sight is so erotic you can feel yourself tingling. 

Kuroo tosses your panties to the side, they get lost in the darkness of the room and he concentrates his attention back to you. You clench around nothing when he whistles at the sight of your exposed glistening area, “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen sweetheart.”

“Tetsurou–” you start but are unable to finish when Kuroo spreads you, getting a look at your swollen clit and sopping folds. Kuroo runs a finger up your leaking slit, gathering the wetness and smearing at all over, a soft sigh of relief leaves your throat when he finally starts to touch you. 

His thumb catches your clit, he draws small circles around your pulsing nub. The feeling sends a surge of heat up your body, he adds a slight pressure on your hood, dragging it up and down in small but deep movements. “Don’t tease me like that,” you tell him, your bottom lip jutting out.

“Like what?” He purrs, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips as if that would satisfy any of your needs. Kuroo starts to pull back when you grip onto his chin, yanking him back down for a sloppy kiss, one that leaves the two of you breathless. 

“What do you want sweetheart?” He asks, tilting his head while he looks down on you. When you don’t respond he pinches your clit, exciting a moan out of you. 

“Tell me or I can’t do anything.”

“Teturou please please please just touch me. I want your fingers inside, pretty please!” you whine, eyes starting to get glassy while you beg, waiting impatiently for him to do something, “That’s it, princess.”

You grip onto the sheets when he prods at your entrance with his middle finger, he applies a bit of pressure then pulls back, it feels so different when he’s touching you without your panties in the way. That and the fact that you haven’t been fucked in several years, so every touch ignites something in you. 

Slowly, his finger sunk into you and a quiet moan escaped your lips. “Fuck, your tight.”

“How are you going to take me like this? Hmm?” Your right thigh closes in, trying to close tha gap in between your legs but you're unable to when Kuroo stops the action with his other hand. “Keep them open,” he warns.

Kuroo sets a slow steady rhythm, watching your face for any discomfort at the stretch. His bottom lip gets caught up in his teeth as he watches your squirm, hips bucking up against his hand, he takes that as a sign to add another finger, the thick digit sinks into you easily. 

“Fuck—” you hiss, back arching off the bed in pleasure. His fingers pull out slowly only to push back in with the same speed as before. 

The sounds of your moans fill the room easily, they sound pathetic, a bunch of whimpers and barely understandable babbles of  “more” and “please”, it has Kuroo chuckling against your heated skin. Every thrust of his fingers has something clenching in the pits of your stomach. 

“I’m going to add another one, okay sweetheart?” Kuroo asks for confirmation and you nod eagerly, a string a breathy moans leaving your lips. “Mmmmppffhf—” is all you can get out for him, head thrown back into the pillows he presses another finger inside you and curls them immediately in a way that has you seeing stars. 

You don’t even register when his hand slips underneath your back to unclasp your bra, the material quickly gets flung somewhere, probably in the same corner of the room where your panties went. You could care less about it when Kuroo latches his mouth onto your boob, tongue swirling and sucking on your nipple.

It adds to your heightened senses, you gasp when his teeth find their way to your bud, capturing it between them and biting down softly. You let out a loud moan at the feeling. Kuroo’s looking at you from his spot at your boob, enjoying the heavenly view you’ve decided to bless him with. Scrunched up face with your mouth slightly agape as your moans spill out. The sight makes the blood rush to his dick.

There's a euphoric burn in your stomach as Kuroo picks up the pace, continuing until he finds that spot that had you kicking, trying to escape from his grip and the intense feeling overcoming you. It was all so overwhelming — you were right there ... !

Kuroo lets go of your nipple with a final tug, the way you clench around his fingers is a telling sign that you're about to let go all over him. “Wanna cum sweet thing? Yeeahh? Fuck, cum for me, then. Cum all over my fingers like a good fucking girl,” and you do, with a loud moan that Kuro enjoys very much, every part of you lets go and you cum hard. The body-shaking orgasm hits you and leaves you breathless, chest heaving up and down as you twitch and come down from the high. 

He brings his fingers out of your cunt and the loss makes you clench around nothing and whimper. A grin makes its way onto his face as he admires the clear sticky material that’s draped on his fingers and he slides two digits into his mouth, sucking your fluid straight off. 

“Think you can give me another one?” He asks, bending down and pressing a kiss to your lips. It’s a sweet and gentle one, that doesn’t last long before he’s pulling back, awaiting your answer. “Another one?” you repeat back to him a little breathlessly, allowing your head to move to the side on his pillow. 

This man just gave you a groundbreaking orgasm, and he wants to go again? Fuck, he might just be the death of you. “C’mon, I’ll treat you real nice. I just want a taste,” he reasons and you give in, nodding to him.

“Is this ok?” He asks, staring up at you from between your legs. He’s face to face with your pussy and you subconsciously clench at the the fact. “Yes, Tetsu,” you tell him, clenching over nothing but the way he’s staring up at you like you’re his first meal in a while. 

Once you give him the green light, Kuroo dives right in. He starts with soft kisses and nibbles up your thigh, tantalizingly close to where you want him that has you squirming. He places a quick kiss on your swollen clit before sucking on it gently. You shudder and let out a breathy moan, heaven to Kuroo’s ears, he lets out a grumble of satisfaction at the sound.

The vibration on your cunt makes you gasp. “You taste like heaven,” Kuroo tells you with his lips wrapped around your sensitive bud.  His tongue flattens out, licking several stripes up your slit and then starting to prod at your hole just as his fingers once did, tasting your wetness, humming against you with an eagerness. The vibrations have you squirming around already.

He’s just as much of a messy eater as you expected, tonguing and biting at you like a man in heat, one that’s been starved and deprived of his favorite meal. “Ffff–uck. Mmpffh,” you stuttered as Kuroo sucked and twirled around your pearl before tugging at it gently, leaving sweet kisses all around, lapping up at your arousal, anything he can quite frankly get his hands on.

His arms wrap around your thighs to keep your hips steady and legs open as he works. His tongue flattens against you before the muscle flicks up, tasting you each time. He has your body jerking, hands trying to grab onto his sheets when he swirls his tongue. “T–Tetsurou!”

“Be good, and I'll fuck you.” Kuroo’s tongue dances between your folds, and your hips buck up onto his mouth even as you try to ground yourself to his bed. Hips grinding faster when you feel his tongue nudge at your opening again. You moan loudly, back arching off the bed again, Kuroo hums at the sound, his upper lip fluttering by your clit while the tension inside you starts to build up again. 

His movements urge small vocals out of you, tongue delving deeper inside, shoving his nose right up into your folds, the tip of it nudging at your sensitive skin, has you blanking out as you let out an airy moan. He’s upping his efforts now, sucking your clit as his tongue torments it, flicking over the sensitive bud. The sensations from his tongue are proving almost too much for you, and you can feel the tension worsening from your stomach to your toes as your orgasm grows closer.

“You're fucking gorgeous like this,” his voice is muffled, busy by his antics, but you make out the words clearly. “spread out like such a good girl. All for me.”

Hooked on your pleasure, he starts to fuck his tongue into your hole, pressing his face into your pussy. Kuroo’s lost in the taste of you, practically drowning in the feeling and sensation. He wants to bury himself so deep inside of you that Kuroo forgets where he ends and you begin. 

It’s obvious with the lewd sounds from his tongue on your cunt and the shudders, gasps, and moans that drop from your mouth. You clunch around his tongue as he continues to fuck inside of you. The feeling so exotic and pleasurable, that you doubt you're going to last long like this. “Wanna cum for me again?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes– please, please. Tetsurou, please,” you shudder and gasp while Kuroo shamelessly eats you out. Dragging his tongue out for a mere second to lick another stripe up your cunt, teasing your nub again, then going straight back into fucking his tongue into you, he curls it up skillfully. The feeling was enough to send you over the edge.

You were a squirming, sticky mess. Your ankles were crossed behind his back, and your only moans grew louder, your body bucking against his mouth, your movements becoming more erratic. Kuroo’s grip on your thighs tightened, making sure to keep you near him as his tongue worked in and out of your dripping hole. 

“That’s it sweet thing. Gonna cum for me? All over my tongue? C’mon then.”

And that's all it took for you. Head thrown back, withering and moaning in pleasure as your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt. Toes curled as your whole body shook, arching off the bed impossibly high, your body tensing and un-tensing under Kuroo’s harsh grip. Your body was contorting before it relaxed, and your breathing returned slowly to normal. 

Kuroo watched as you rode out your orgasms, the second one taking more out of you than the first one did. He could tell you were sensitive. “Hmmm, how was that sweetheart?” 

“Still feel up to it?” Kuroo asks you while licking the remains of your orgasm off his face. You nod weakly, your body tired from both orgasms he just gave you. A chuckle falls from his lips and then he’s getting up from in between your legs, large hands lifting the bottom half of your body so that your legs are around his waist and you can feel his hard cock up against your thigh. You gasp, hips twitching involuntarily. 

A shiver ran through you, and you looked up at him, wide-eyed. Flushed and panting when he asks, “Are you sure about this?” You nod trembling in both nervousness and anticipation. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

Kuroo laughs at your sentence, finding it cute and he couldn’t agree more. He bends down to place a smooth kiss on your lips, tilting your head to give him more access. “Just let me know if it’s too much for your ankle or you.”

Even as you sprayed on his bed naked, he’s still worrying about your injury. So sweet, but that’s not what you care about right now. Kuroo takes hold of his cock, lining himself up with your entrance, he taps the tip against your pretty slit a few times before rubbing the head up along your folds, collecting your wetness. “Fuuckk,” he groans watching how it glistens along his dick. 

“Stop teasing,” you pout, smacking his arm. “Hurry up and put it in.”

“Jeez, a man can’t enjoy a bit before?”

“No. Put it in.” you hiss at him.

Rolling his eyes Kuroo places the tip of his cock at your weeping hole, he would just have to teach you manners at a later time. You shiver at the sensation of him nudging inside and pulling back, and you felt it immediately when he started to feed you his cock, the stretch extremely overbearing, causing you to girth your teeth and grab onto his buff arms.

He let out a deep groan at how warm and tight you were, gaze flickering back to yours–watching you he felt like he would cum on the spot with that pretty look on your face. Mouth formed into an “o” as your eyes flickered shut and your eyebrows were scrunched. 

He should’ve felt bad knowing that he was causing you pain, but you were just so beautiful like this and it seriously felt like you were going to cut off the circulation around his dick with how tight you were. “God– sweetheart you have to relax. Fuck.”

“I’m trying jackass. You wouldn’t like it if I shoved a cock your same size up your ass would you–?” you choke out as he pushes in another inch or two, a soft moan fell from your lips, a mix of pain and a bit of pleasure. Kuroo chuckled, his deep laugh vibrating and causing your pussy to flutter around him, “I wouldn’t but lucky that’s not happening.”

“Don’t fucking temp me Kuroo Tetsurou,” Inch by inch he eased his way inside, pulling back and then pushing a little further. The sensation had your nail digging into his skin as you whimpered at the stretch. You were more than prepared, yet the stretch was still a lot. The sting was nice yet antagonizing. He was truly stretching you out in ways you’ve never experienced before in your life, and you loved it. 

“I think you might just clamp my dick off…” Kuroo mumbles off, folding his bottom lip under his teeth. His face fully concentrated on you and your sweet reactions and making sure he didn’t hurt you. Your feet flex and point as you squirm at the feeling of Kuroo sinking in. It almost feels like it’s never-ending, inch by inch he continues to sink inside of your warm cunt  and you continue to clench down on him like your life depends on it.“So fucking tight princess.”

“Sucking me in like a vice. You wanted this badly huh?” he hisses when you clench around him again. Kuroo was just so big, too big, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. 

He kept going until he was up to the tilt, your hips meeting together, pausing at being inside you entirely. You huffed, the feeling of being so full unusual for you, you felt like you had just gotten impaled on his cock, stuffed to the brim of no return– and it felt so fucking good. The two of you stayed like that, waiting for you to adjust properly while he peppered tender kisses across your skin. 

His cock was throbbing inside of you, hips threatening to pull back and slam into you as hard as possible, but Kuroo knew he had to hold back for his own sake and yours. Not wanting to cum too early and because he wanted to savor the moment as long as possible.

When you grant him the okay, Kuroo pulls out only a bit before pushing back inside with a tentative thrust. “Testu! Fuck–” you whimper, legs shivering again at the pleasure that just shot through your body. 

“Want me to keep going?” He asks, only to laugh at how quickly you nod. Your grip on his arms has loosened now– not entirely but not enough to leave a mark on him. Kuroo’s hips move inside you again, his thrusts are slow but harsh as he works you up, his patience holding on by a fine thread. 

You let out an airy gasp every time his hips meet yours, the skin slapping against one another filling up the room effortlessly. His groans and low-pitched moans are just as audible as yours. Every stroke of his cock sends both of you over the edge nearing blissfulness. “Too big–” you shudder, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck when he leans down to be closer to you. 

“Wasn’t too big when you–Ah fuck– were trying to stuff my cock–shit,  down your throat huh?” he argues, hands running up your sides as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, hitting every single point in your body, causing you to clench tightly around him, forcing a couple of curses out. 

Your face quickly morphed into one of pleasure, a look he did not want to miss, not even in a million years. His grip on your waist tightened, he uses his hands to lift the bottom half up so your hips meet his thrusts as he begins to speed up again, finding a steady rhythm this time. “Nngh– Tetsuoru–” your moans only grow louder and louder and that familiar tension starts to build up rapidly. 

Kuroo pulls you in, hand gripping your chin lightly and connecting his lips to yours, kissing you with a feverly touch. The head of his cock kisses up against your cervix each time he pushes back in, starting a new pace where he pulls almost all the way out before hitting the tilt again, the contact has your toes curling, coaxing more pretty moans out of your mouth, moans that you don’t even recognize yourself for making. “Mmmmh, so good for me sweetheart. Fuck–”

The edges of his cock rub against your fluttering walls, gushing inside of you, the wet sounds of your hips slapping fills your ears and there’s no hiding anymore, not that you have the energy to do that anyways, all you can do is moan and whine around him. Crumbling to his touch and thrusts. 

The pace he’s set is perfect, allowing you to feel and enjoy every single drag of his cock as it goes in and out. The pleasure is almost oppressive, everything feels so good that your having a hard time focusing on anything else but his cock. Kuroo’s grip on your waist is so tight that you’re sure it will leave bruises, not that you mind at all.  

“You fit so nicely around my cock, huh? So sweet for letting me take care of you like this," He purrs, enjoying the way your body responds to each stroke he makes, effortlessly hitting all your spots, exploring your body as if it were a reward. 

It’s unexpected when Kuroo reaches down, his lips finding your sensitive neck and starting to leave kisses all over it, adding to your heightened senses. Sweet innocent kisses turn into small nibbles being left everywhere, and those small nibbles turn into full-on love bites. Sharp teeth digging into your skin as he sucks harshly, you don’t know if his intent is to leave marks on your body but at the rate Kuroo is going at he surely will leave more than just a few marks. 

The tension in your stomach is on the brink of snapping, and you can tell that Kuroo knows, not as if it’s a secret with how you try to hide your face from him, whimpering and chanting his name like it’s a prayer of some sort. “It’s too much–” you cry out, wrapping your arms around his neck and yanking him closer to you. His lips on your neck and the delicious drag of his cock inside your gummy walls– all too overwhelming that it’s hard to even form sentences. 

“You can take it—” and the tension that had built up again in your lower stomach snapped, simple, just like that. You clench around him tightly, a high-pitched wail leaving your lips as pleasure overtakes your body for the third time tonight. You are oversensitive, trembling, and gasping as Kuroo continues to thrust inside of you, with absolutely no intention of stopping. 

“Haaah– did you just cum? Fuck, that’s so– shit– cute, sweetheart,” a low chuckle leaves his lips. 

Without warning, he bends your legs, pressing them to your collarbone and hooking them over his broad shoulders, practically folding you like a pretzel, and Kuroo just loses it. His grip on your thighs gets tighter than you thought was possible as he starts to piston his hips against yours. 

“Tetsuoru–!” you yelp at the sudden fast pace. Whines and moans spilling out of your lips like a waterfall. You attempt to slow him down by placing your hands on his pecs, but Kuroo growls at you to take them off and yanks them your hands off himself. “Try that again, and I'll tie them up.” 

His gaze drifts to where your cute pussy engulfs his cock every time, and he’s mesmerized at how you can take so much of him. It’s ruthless, the way you swallow his entire cock, Kuroo feels his resolve cracking and his own orgasm approaching, steady and fast. He fucks you thoroughly, giving the both of you pleasure in places neither of you knew existed. 

Being pressed directly against him while he thrusts into you feels like a dream. He spreads your legs and little wider, shoving them impossibly closer to your body, and somehow, it feels like it’s going impossibly deeper at this angle, and that’s when he hits it. 

“You feel so fucking good. So tight— you’re going to milk me dry like this,” Kuroo murmurs, he squeezes your thighs in reassurance. Giving you a mocking smile while he rolled his hips into you again, the head of his cock brushing against that one spot that had you seeing stars. 

He starts to pick up his pace, thrusting harder, eager for you to come again.

Eyes rolled over your body, taking in the obscene image of you. Mascara messed up from your tears, the dark color hindering underneath your eyes, your lipstick was practically gone, Kuroo having kissed it off you and smudging it around your face– He doesn’t think you can get any more beautiful. 

He rolls his hips upward, drawing out another whiney moan from a pleasure point that you didn’t even know was there. He begins to pound into it with every thrust he makes, Kuroo bends down, capturing your lips in his mouth. With the sweet moan you make he tugs at your bottom lip, before letting his tongue back into your mouth, swirling your tongues together, gently sucking as he explores the inside of your mouth again. 

You shudder and yelp, coil in your stomach nearing its peak again, eyes finding Kuroo’s sly gaze. The eye contact is unwavering, he smirks down at you, sticking his tongue out to wet his bottom lip before tucking it back in.

Sweat drips down his body, giving him a shiny look, his hair is wild, strands stuck to his forehead and you watch as his muscles flex while he hits you with deep, languid strokes. “Doing so good for me baby. You take my cock so well. Almost as if you were fucking made for me,” he coos when you clench and clamp down around his cock, it leaves him groaning lowly, your tight and warm cunt sending him into a damn near frenzy. “Shit, I’m close,” 

“Please come in me. I want you to fill me up,” you cry, prying your eyes open to admire the sculpted man above you, taking you as his. Everything felt so good, your eyes started to water, body trembled underneath him. Little did you know how much those words spurred him on, Kuroo was fully ready to pull out of you and cum on your stomach, yet with the permission you just granted him— he was going to make use of it. 

He didn’t waste any time, continuing to slam into your cunt, hard and fast. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up? Fuck– you're gonna take my cum like a good girl? Hmm, that’s it, sweetheart,” your body judders with each thrust. Tight walls spasm around his cock, and you cry out at the delicious feeling of him rummaging through you. “Answer me.”

“Hmmmpffhh–” The answer never leaves your mouth when Kuroo grinds his hips against yours, pulling back to slam into you again. 

“I’m going to cum,” you whine when Kuroo’s cock brushes up against your sweet spot, every stroke sending electrifying waves through your body. Your insides clench, the coil threatening to snap at any given moment, and your abdomen starts to twitch, tremors leaving your body in the form of sweet cute tears that start to roll down your cheek.  

"Almost, pretty girl," His grip tightened on your suspended leg to hold you in place.

Your cries only grew louder as your orgasm approached, body so sensitive, you hiccup as you try to form coherent sentences, trying to tell Kuroo that you really can’t hold on any longer, but all that comes out are clumpy tears, airey moans and silly babbles. Nothing makes sense anymore besides your overbearing need to cum on his cock. 

Your thighs twitch, your body trying to pull away from Kuroo as your toes curl at the pleasure, “Testuoruoooooo– please please please— plea–” he thrusts into your sweet spot again, leaving you to blank out on his cock, seeing stars in your vision. 

He pulled out nearly all the way before sliding back inside of you, over and over again. There's a white ring of arousal at the base of his hips, he continues his relentless thrusts, the pleasure, the want, the need to cum inside you taking over. Waves of ecstasy crash over the both of you. You can hardly hold yourself back especially when he looks at you like that, talks to you like that, and soon, you’re falling off the edge, crying into his neck, nails raking down his chest, breathlessly chanting Kuroo’s name like a prayer. 

“Nnngh– please please! Tetsurou– Ah! Too much–” 

His thrusts become more frantic, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room once more. One of Kuroo’s hands lets go of your thigh, allowing it to fall back onto his shoulder, only for the hand to find yours and intertwine them together against the soft sheets of his mattress. Leaning down, Kuroo kept up his relentless pace and pressed his soft lips against yours. His lips brush against your ear, his hot breath fanning over the skin. “Just like that. Fuck, you're so perfect. Such a good fucking girl for me.”

You only whimper at his words, you can barely see from the tears in your eyes, you try to turn away from him, but he doesn’t allow it.“Nu-uh, don’t hide from me, princess. I wanna see your cute little face as you cum all over my cock again.”

A strangled cry leaves your throat as your final orgasm rips through you. You pant, tongue lolling out of your mouth, toes curled from the oversensitivity that was taking over. Your mind goes blank as you revel in the pure bliss of cumming around his cock, and with a low groan, Kuroo buries himself deep inside of you before letting go himself. 

You milk Kuroo dry. Taking all the cum from his body, there's so much of it and not enough space inside of you that when you clench around him, you can feel it oozing out making your body shiver. “Fuck,” you mumbled, allowing your body to finally rest against the bed. Limbs almost numb, from being held down most of the time and your jaw was a bit sore, not to mention the intense throbbing from between your legs. You didn’t feel like moving at all. You just wanted to lay in his arms. 

Kuroo pulls out of you, allowing his own body to relax from above you. “You did so good for me. look how much you came,” he coos, removing your legs from his shoulders and settling them down at his waist. He admires you like him, all fucked out and exhausted. You only grumble out something incoherent when Kuroo’s fingers slip down to your hole, playing with his cum that’s seeped out already. 

The two of you sit like that for a second longer before you speak up, breaking the silence. “Are we still friends?” you ask, staring up at him. 

Kuroo chuckles, a deep rumbly sound that fills your chest with warmth. “I dunno, I don’t necessarily fuck the shit out of my friends,” he brushes a few strands of hair out of your face, staring at the dried tear streaks and ruined mascara.  

You thin your lips, a splash of nervousness overcoming you at his vague answer. “Does this mean we are girlfriend and boyfriend then?”

“No,” he responds flatly, and you almost headbutt him with how fast you attempt to sit up. “What???” you ask him, slapping his arm, a mix of confusion and frustration building up in you quickly. There is no way, Kuroo must be pranking you. He was the one who confessed first, not you. 

He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, “I have to take you out. On a proper date.” he explains, a cheeky smile playing on his lips as he watches your reaction.

You roll your eyes, smacking his arm and fighting the urge to pinch his nipple. “You're so cheesy.”

Kuroo’s laughter fills the room again, a deep comforting sound that makes your heart flutter. “Can’t have you settling or less kay? Now come here” he says, kissing you and pulling you close to him, lifting you up and turning the two of you over so that he’s laying against the bed with you on his chest. You can already feel his cock getting hard again and you knew one thing for sure, that you were in for a night of your own.

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

Bzzt! Bzzt!

Bzzt!

The loud, incessant noise is what bothers you out of your sleep. You reach your arm out, trying to locate where your phone is on the nightstand while fighting the urge to flip the entire thing over. There’s a soft golden glow that filters through Kuroo’s apartment, that only light in the room which your eyes struggle to adjust to. Before you could grasp at your phone, a hand gently intercepted yours.

“I’ll check it,” Kuroo murmurs, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble, still thick with sleep. He brings your intertwined hand to his mouth, leaving a few kisses then letting go to place a tender kiss on your forehead. You let out a small hum of agreement, obviously, you weren’t going to argue against a few extra moments of sleep, your body relaxed back into his embrace while your eyes fluttered shut once more. 

Propping himself up on one elbow, careful not to disturb you again, Kuroo reaches over to the nightstand grabbing his phone. His other hand rakes through your hair, in a soft soothing rhyme, trying to lull you back into your slumber while he tries to figure out why both of your phones are going off. Kuroo’s brows furrow at the myriad of notifications lighting up his screen, a cursory glance at your phone showed the same thing. Messages from his co-workers, news apps, the JVA Outlook email, from Kenma, and even…. Atsumu?

Kenma: www.kyodonews.com

He clicked on the text from Kenma that came with a link and a photo. With a single tap, the link opened to a bustling news website. Headlines blazed across the top of the page, displaying an array of articles centered around them. Images from the previous night were plastered everywhere, capturing them leaving together in a flurry of camera flashes.

Snatches of headlines like “Gala Afterparty Surprise”, “We Knew it” , “Nobody was Fooled”  and “New Couple Alert?” filled the feed, accompanied by countless comments and speculation. Kuroo’s lips curled into a bemused smile as he skimmed through the content. 

Kuroo chuckled softly, careful not to wake you up, and continued to scroll until he found the comment section. He continued to read through some of them, laughing a bit at the usernames and the contents of the comments. Each comment ranged from the supportive to the wildly speculative and even some heartbroken ones, adding a surreal layer to his reality.

Kuroo: thanks for the articles  Kenma: rude that I wasn’t invited. Hope u know that Kuroo: uh huh, next time buddy Kenma: bet. 

Taking a deep breath, Kuroo put the phone back onto the nightstand and tightened his embrace around you, savoring the peaceful and calm morning before the rush of the outside world intruded once more. 

Back then, you wouldn’t have been able to get Kuroo to say why he had become so fond of you, why you mattered so much to him, your success, and everything else about you. But now, as you lay, laughing in his arms, in his bed— he could tell you that it was a feeling that was so foreign to him but so close and unforgettable.

Kuroo Tetsurou has loved you since the day he saw you.

Getting to know you was never enough.

And he’d choose you in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred words, in any version of reality, he would find you and choose you. Over and over again. Without a pause, without a doubt, and in a heartbeat. He would choose you.

And in every other universe, he will search for you because one lifetime with you is just not enough for him. 

an: omg I'm so happy that i was finally able to publish this. i hope this was up to everyones standards and i didn't like anybody down with my writing , ignore the comments from the websites lol its just a bunch of inside jokes from me and my friends about this fic hehe :))

[prettyboykatsuki]

I NEED YOU EXCITED, I DON'T WANNA FIGHT IT | Y. OKKOTSU

✵ tags ; established relationship, friends to lovers, afab +fem!reader, forward!reader, back and forth power dynamics, dry-humping, hickies / marking, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, riding. fingering, dirty talk, 18+

✵ wc ; 7.3k (good lord)

✵ a/n ; written with my beloved @princess-okkotsu in mind!! i hope i did your boy justice </3 and thank u for everything literally wouldn't have passed chem w/o you

so not used to have such little warnings on a fic. lol. title is from fire and desire by drake.

✵ synopsis ; yuta wants to do right by you which is why he's so determined to take your relationship slowly. well, he tries too, anyway.

Yuta Okkotsu is a believer of doing things the right way. 

He repeats this to himself like a mantra as he hangs out alone in your bedroom. He closes his eyes, elbows resting on the little table, face buried in his palms. Maybe it’s closer to a form of manifestation - like if he says it with enough hooplah it will mean something more than a jumble of words and syllables. 

He must clarify that he is trying to do the right thing right now. He is trying so very hard to do the right thing because Yuta Okkotsu wants to remain righteous where possible. 

It’s part of his job as a sorcerer, now well into his 20’s and more conscious of the world around him. He’s strong enough to put his money where his mouth is and experienced enough to know that trying to maintain some ethical code is part of staying alive in this business. 

And it’s not that Yuta considers himself particularly upright. His friends and colleagues often tell him that he’s a bit unhinged and hard to get a read on. His morals might not always align with greater society, but he never does something that goes against his own beliefs. A lot of which can be summarized quite easily ; anything to defend his comrades.

It really is so important for Yuta to try and be civil in these aspects. Lest he fall into something truly dark. Even he knows what he’s capable of, at least a little. 

That’s why he’s left with no choice than burying all of his thoughts of you and using every ounce of energy he has to suppress it as deep as it can go 

You know, with all the love that’s influenced his life and all of the years he’s spent  learning to be less timid - none of it seems to matter when it comes down to you and him. The logistics of a relationship and the idea of one are two very different things. When it comes to your relationship, he’s been keen in adhering to his strict timeline of milestones. First date, first hand-holding, first deep kiss. It’s a matter of honoring you - because before being boyfriend and girlfriend, you were Yuta’s comrade and companion. Before your relationship status, you're his cherished and valued person. 

So because he’s chivalrous. Because he’s romantic. Because he cares about you. 

And also because the sheer  magnitude of his desires for you perpetually leaves him in a state of distress and disarray. It’s all of the above, all at the same time. And sometimes it leaves him a little overwhelmed. 

He barely manages in his daily life but this? This is torturous. 

Being in your bedroom unprompted is destroying every ounce of self-restraint he’s built through these last three months. He’s made it through your relentless bullying without giving into his Earthly desires.

It’s just too ideal in a way, being in here. Everything feels like you. There’s pictures of your friends and family around the room. Everything has your scent. Your clothes are littered on the floor and hung over the back of your desk-chair. It’s so you and Yuta loves you and he’s not going to survive being in here despite it all.

It’s embarrassing. Yuta is not the timid teenager he once was. But for all the ways he’s good at standing his ground, his demeanor is all but worthless when it comes down to you.

You’re a few years his senior and you’ve always been a slippery character. He’s enriched by your curiosity of the world. You’re a researcher and archivist of cursed information, coming out of the Kyoto branch. You have plenty of accolades and always manage to teach him something new and come out of difficult things on top. 

Mostly, Yuta recognizes all of the good in your heart. He really thinks very highly of you.

There was an obvious passion for your work that Yuta was endeared by in the initial stages of your relationship. Plus you were easy to talk to. You’ve been a good friend to Yuta for years now, ever since you called on him to do some research on him and Rika. And, as the years passed you became closer until one night it hit him that his feelings of admiration were a little closer to something like love. 

And with big, wet tears in his eyes (and a fair bit of liquor in his system) he blubbered about his feelings for you. He isn’t sure what reaction he was expecting at the time. You were happy which was great, but there was also something so lax about it all. Yuta remembers it so vividly. The way you waltzed up to him, tucked some hair behind his ears and kissed him gingerly with all the confidence in the world. Like it mattered but it didn’t. Like nothing could be more obvious than your feelings for each other. 

“I’m pretty crazy about you too, Okkotsu-san.” 

After asking if that meant you were dating like the bumbling, lovesick fool he is - you officially began going out as a couple. And at first, it was smooth sailing. It wasn’t too different from your usual hangouts.

Eventually though, you had pointed out that it doesn’t really feel like you were dating. Suggested that maybe sleeping together would help break the ice a little. That was what started this moral dilemma. 

Being honest, it wasn’t like Yuta hadn’t considered it. What thoughts he cooked up while alone in the sanctity of his bedroom is between him and the heavens only. It was just the way you suggested it. You saying it made it all feel so real. And Yuta wasn’t sure how to deal with that. He wants to cherish you so much that he felt like he couldn’t consider your offer too lightly. 

And he told you as much, hand in yours and red-faced to which you only blew some hair out of his eyes and laughed. A simple okay, a nod, and a kiss.

Of course, if everything had been smooth sailing this would be a different thing altogether. While Yuta had declined sleeping with you too soon, you had absolutely no plans to make his life easy. He’s not sure how much of it is on purpose. Knowing you, probably a lot. You’re a smart girl, after all.

So all of your bending over and tongue kissing before going home and selfies that just border on boudoir are probably very purposeful. But he’s endured it all. He should cherish you more. He’s been determined to not give in. 

The fact he’s all but ready to blow his load over just being in your room makes him feel pathetic. And maybe he is, a little. But only for you. 

Yuta likes to think of himself as a collected individual. Really.  He knows being this worked up over something as innocuous as his girlfriends room is ridiculous. He knows he’s being ridiculous.

But he really, really wants to uphold his beliefs here. So he’s stiff, sitting with his hands clasped and holding it together just barely. 

He practically jumps out of his skin when you return to your room with a tray of refreshments. 

“Woah, Yuta. You okay?”

He turns around to look at you. A mistake, apparently. His eyes land on the sight of your bare legs before he forces himself to meet your eyes. You’re so pretty to him. Always so beautiful without any effort. 

“Huh? Yeah. Sorry, just got lost in thought.”

You put the tray down on the table in front of him before sitting on the edge of your bed - facing him. The distance between you is minimal. You reach out to pet the top of his head with the palm of your hand, scratching his jaw tenderly. Yuta feels loved by the touch. 

“You sure? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

Your genuine worry makes his spine feel like it’ll melt. He puts his hands over yours, rubbing his cheek against your palm.

“Promise I’m okay. Just—it's nothing serious.” 

“Mm. Even if it’s nothing serious, I wanna know what stuff you’re worried about, ‘kay? So tell me if you want.”

He feels unsteady but so happy. 

“Thank you, my love.”

“Yeah, of course. You wanna keep sitting on the floor or…?”

The minute you ask him, he feels the hair stand up on his neck. 

“The bed…?”

You give him a look of confusion before you break out into a knowing grin.

“Oh, I forgot. I mean to remain chaste, my liege. Just wanna cuddle a bit.”

“Are you making fun of me?” He asks, not masking the pout in his voice. 

You tilt your head to one side, leaning  back on your palms. 

“A little,” You say mischievously, shrugging “I’m used to your lifestyle of celibacy.” 

He frowns at you. “It’s not like that, I just want to—“

“I just want to cherish you because I love you and want you for more than sex yadda yadda yadda. I know. And I respect your wishes even if I think it’s silly.” You say, taking the words right out of his mouth. His frown deepens.

“It’s not silly to me.” He says, almost petulantly. At this, you grab his face in your hands which catches him off-guard. You knock your forehead against his, bent over to do it. 

“I know that too, you dummy. The point is that I’m not trying to get in your pants right now.”

He can’t help but smile, pulling away to kiss at your wrist. You giggle. 

“Well, what do you want?”

“To be wrapped up in each other like otters.”

“So romantic.”

“Right? So get up here.” 

He gives in sooner rather than later. You scoot till your back is along the wall next to your bed and Yuta wastes no more time in joining you. Your bed is crazy comfortable. Just laying it in makes him want to fall asleep almost immediately. He gets cozy  before directing his gaze to you in front of him. He feels like he’s gonna throw up and the only thing that’ll come out is his heart. You give him a look of amusement. 

“Enjoying the view?” You tease. He laughs, leaning forward to tuck his face into your neck.

“Yeah. Smells like you,” 

“So cute.” 

“Don’t know how to feel about being called cute.” He says honestly. He peers up at you and you’re giggling and he can feel his heart rate sky-rocket. You twirl a piece of his hair around your index finger. 

“You’re cute and cool and handsome. Better?” 

“Yeah. Yes.” 

“Mm,” You respond. He looks at you as your expression drifts off somewhere. He can’t take his eyes away from your face “Sorry you had to stay over.” 

“It’s fine. It’d be a shame if you didn’t get anything to look over while we were there. If you make any breakthroughs, it’d be good for Gojo-sensei.” 

“You still call him that even though you graduated so many years ago?”

He flushes slightly. 

“Force of habit. My point stands.” 

“Mhm. Thanks for being so supportive. I didn’t think it was that late, y’know? I would’ve tried to hurry if I knew,” You say thoughtfully “But I like having you over.” 

He gives you a once over as he pulls away, eyes flitting to your lips. You give him a small grin. 

“Kiss me.” 

He looks at you apologetically. 

“That’s not fair. We can’t kiss? Making out doesn’t count as intimate relations, Yuta.” 

“Okay, but it can lead to them.” 

“If it’s that serious, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“Wait, no.” 

“Then kiss me.” 

He sighs. 

“Just kissing, okay?” 

“Okay, you monk.” 

He laughs at the comment before pressing his lips to yours tenderly. You have no such intent of leaving it that way - your hand on immediately on the nape of his neck. The softness of your tongue makes Yuta feel like there’s fizz in his head - like the water inside of him is seltzer. He thought you would at least try to give him some mercy. 

He probably shouldn’t expect that from his favorite girl. He pulls away, out of breath. A little line of saliva breaks off between you. Your grin is eye-catching, like glass in the sun. Yuta wouldn’t mind burning in the magnitude of your light. 

“Just kissing,” He emphasizes, trying to be firm. You hum, hand on his cheek. You rub your thumb on his lip tenderly, looking at him square in the eyes. He’s stronger than this, he swears. 

“We are just kissing though?” 

“Baby.” He frowns. A laugh bubbles up from your stomach and he’s so entranced by it he nearly forgets what he’s trying to convince you of. 

“Since when is making out too naughty? Teenagers do stuff like that, Yuta. We’re grown-ups.” 

“That’s the whole problem.” He says back in faux exasperation. You look like you’re going to kiss him again, but you lean into his ear instead. Your breath is warm and ticklish against his skin. 

“Yuta,” You murmur with such clear intent he feels himself break down under the weight “Can’t we have sex, hm?” 

Blood rushes down to his dick so fast he’s embarrassed. He stares at you as you pull away, a look  in your eyes that makes him want to collapse. Of course he does. He wants to have so much sex with you so often it’s starting to drive him up a wall. Is there anyone in the world other than him masochistic enough to turn down the offer? He’s doubtful to say the least. 

“I want to,” He admits. You beam and nod. Your hand slides down to squeeze his waist. He swallows thickly. 

“Yeah? Then why can’t we?” 

“I just..don’t want to rush things,” He replies with as much conviction as he possibly can. The sincerity must reach you because you soften a little “We’ve known each other for a long time. And it was already hard to get here. I just want to make sure it’s right.” 

“You’re so thoughtful,” You murmur to him, running over his hip bone with your thumb “And that makes you really sexy, you know?” 

“What if it gets all messed up?” 

“Our relationship is stronger than that, yeah. It can withstand a handjob.” 

He groans at your vulgarity before laughing. 

“I’m being serious!” 

“I know and that’s so sweet of you. But I really, really don’t think it’ll be that bad if we have sex. We might fuck like rabbits for a few days but that’s not really the end of the world.” 

He feels heat creep up his next as you nuzzle your nose against his, whispering softly. 

“And doesn’t that sound nice? Cooped up in this little room, fucking each others brains out. Just you and me.” 

He feels his dick steel against his will. He looks at you seriously, a fire in his expression. 

“You’re being unfair.”  

“Who, me? Never. I’m just telling you what I think.” 

He groans in complaint. Is this the right thing to do? He doesn’t think so. But it’s not like he doesn’t want to. He really, really wants to have sex and there’s never been such a perfect opportunity. You’re a little too good at turning him on and he’s a little too pent up to think about it more clearly. It feels like the only thing he can think about, a side-effect of this whole conundrum. There is a right way to go about this and he can’t say for certain yours isn’t the one. 

Plus the vivid picture you’ve painted of the two of you fucking in a room for hours is making his whole body burn up with lust. Fuck, the things he could do to you in all that time without it ever being enough. 

Yuta didn’t know he was aching for you so badly until he was this close to having you. 

“Baby,” He can feel how deep his voice is getting. It’s taking all of his strength to keep it in. 

“How do you want me? Tell me. You’ve been thinking about me right?”

“Always,” He confesses, staring at you without any restraint “Always thinking of you.”  

“Doing what?”

Oh. This is… 

Oh.

“I’ve never seen you naked.”

“Then you daydream about seeing me naked? How tame.” 

“It’s more than that, it’s—I want to make you feel good. You’re so good to me. And I wanna…”

You stare at him. You’re so cheeky. 

“You wanna?”

“Want you to feel good. But because of me. All because of me.”

A wave of heat passes through him. He looks at you and you look...different. You look turned on, fingers carding through his hair. Right now all Yuta can think about is how much he wants. A word with so much weight behind it he can hardly keep up. God doesn’t Yuta want you more than he’s ever wanted anything. 

The room feels like it’s hotter than it was a few seconds last. A thick tension spreads over everything like jam. Yuta is too dazed to do anything. He can only watch as you sit up. You guide him to lay on his back and climb on top of him with ease. Your thighs feel warm and soft as you straddled him, taking his hands to put them on your waist.

He slides them up underneath your shirt lightly, enough to feel the warmth of your skin on his calloused fingers. Your eyes lock as you lean forward the slightest bit, caging Yuta in with your hand next to his head. 

“So possessive,” You tease, seeing right through him like you usually do. He really is. He thought he was a little better at hiding it “Already all yours, Yuta.” 

That makes his dick twitch. You must feel it because you laugh at him about it and his hands grip even tighter. He’s gonna lose his mind, being swept up by you so easily. He’s gotten so used to forfeiting restraint. Always goes in head first because that’s how cowards have to learn to fight. But he’s forgotten how to hold back. How to suppress. 

Right now, he feels like an animal. He feels like a restless hound dog, straining against the spiked collar he’s tried to keep himself in place. What does that make you, he wonders? 

In an attempt at transparency, he looks at you and says “I want you so much.”

And your reply is about all the permission he needs. 

“Then take me,” 

Yuta heeds your words and takes. It’s easy to flip you both over from where you are. He mumbles an apology as you yelp in surprise - and he hopes you’ll forgive him for his impatience. He’s been picturing this for months now. He knows what he wants, and that’s you on your back with him on top of you - making you feel so fucking good you can’t stand it. He slots his legs between yours, hovering over you as your bodies press into each other. 

You wrap your arms around Yutas neck with ease and he leans in to kiss you passionately. Despite where you are, it’s clear you're helping set the pace. Yuta is eager to follow. It starts off slow enough but when you pull away once, you're opening your mouth enough to let him in deeper. You stick your tongue out and Yuta follows suit. Everything is so hot he feels like it’ll burn, and you taste like mint toothpaste. He likes swapping spit with you like this, the messy way the drool runs down his chin and yours like you can’t get enough for each other. 

He has no idea how long you stay like that. Just kissing is a dangerous game. The nip of your mouth and the press of your incisors in his lower lip leave him shuddering. His hard cock is pressed against your abdomen, and he can’t help himself but hump into the soft plush of your tummy. Even through the stiff material of his jeans he can feel you. 

He quivers and whimpers into your mouth but you swallow the noise with delight. Your fingers find themself at the nape of his hand reaching up, tugging at the root. You pull away to give him a chance to breathe. He sounds pathetic, he knows it, but fuck he can’t hold it in anymore. Your voice is cool and collected yet rich and heady. It feels like a salve to his raw nerves, calming to him. He closes his eyes and humps into you and everything feels like it’ll disappear. Yuta just wants to give into his base needs. He wants to be all yours as much as he wants you to be all his and everything is so tangled up in his mind. 

“That feel good, Yuta?” 

“Y-yeah. Yes. Oh, yes.” 

You giggle at him a little and Yuta looks up at you. Look at the swell of your lips and the flush and sheen on your skin. Too much, too much, too much. 

But not enough at the same time, he rubs his cock against you again, harder. 

“So pent up,” You comment smoothly and Yuta groans in agreement “Why don’t I help you a little?” 

Unsure of what you mean, he stares at you hazily. You push him off, making him stand to his knees and he watches you as your hands come to the ends of your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it somewhere. You have nothing on underneath. His mouth dries out almost completely. Bare skin of your shoulders and the curve of your neck and your chest so open. Your nipples are hard against the cool air, standing to attention.

Your b0dy is so much sexier than he could’ve conjured up in his head. The real thing doesn’t even compare, and the way you move as you take off the rest is so fucking mesmerizing. Yuta watches you take off your pants next -  you put your legs up to slide them off. 

There’s not a single part of you that Yuta doesn’t want to claim for himself. He traces the outline of your legs, the bend of your knee and the arch of your foot. He should worship you, after all - he was right for trying to restrain it before. If he had this in the beginning, he’s afraid of what kind of person he might become. He’s scared of it even now.

 Yuta is of course the type of man to get sick on his own devotion. He’s always been like that. That’s what the rings on his hands always mean. He wants to make himself sick on you. 

Nothing could be more intense than just watching you undress, he doesn't think. You toss your shorts somewhere, but leave your panties on. Yuta still has his clothes on. The only barrier between you now is a thin layer of cotton. There’s a damp spot on it. He can’t stop his hand from reaching out, pressing into it with his thumb as gently as he can. You gasp. His eyes go wide. 

“It’s okay,” You assure, a smile on your face “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

He hums, dumbstruck, and smooths his thumb over the seam. There’s something salacious about the boundary itself. The material that’s keeping him from just taking you. 

“C-can you leave them on..? For a bit?” He asks. You blink twice. Even if you’re confused, there’s not any judgment. Yuta really does love you. 

“Uh-huh. If you want me too,”  

You give him the floor this time, Yuta thinks. He takes his shirt off too. He doesn’t take his jeans off completely, though. Only unzips them, pushing them down past his boxers to give him some breathing room. And with that he’s back on top of you. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips but moves down towards your jaw. The little fluttery sigh that leaves you makes everything close in around him. Like it’s only you two in the entire world. He leaves them down your neck, down your collarbone and sternum. Warm open mouth kisses trying all over every inch of you. 

His hands shake as he reaches out for your chest. You chuckle and reach for him. Guide them to squeeze your tits firm, a cheeky look in your eye. He tries to take more confidence in it now. Gropes the fat between his fingers, palms over your nipples in appreciation. He’s entranced by it, pushing them together and teasing the hardened buds with the pads of his fingers.

“So pretty,” He mumbles, mostly to himself “You’re so pretty,” 

“You’re pretty too, Yuta.” 

He can feel a blush crawl up his skin. He ducks his head down to take your nipples into his mouth. You let out a soft moan of pleasure that encourages him to suck harder on one and use his fingers to tease you where his mouth can’t reach. Your sighs are shaky and you're gently losing your composure.

 He wants to shatter you completely. 

He grabs your thighs and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist. And you do with his guidance, a well of desire about to burst within him. He adjusts until his cock is snug against your clothed cunt. A broken oh, leaves your lips and Yuta humps into you, shifting until he hits the sweet spot. Your voice sounds again, pitchy and melodic like a wind chime and that’s when Yuta knows he has it. 

He has you right where he wants you now. Bodies pressed into each other and so involved, so together. Yuta can feel you everywhere. He’s always been in sync with you but every notch is turned to ten. The shallow rise and fall of your stomach, the slightest tenseness in your spine that melt away when he gives you a little attention. He has you in his grasp but he wants to hold onto you tighter. He feels like he’s been struck by lightning, the way his nerves are revved up.

He focuses on where your lower bodies meet, tongue poked between his lips and furrow in his brow. Drives his clothed, hard cock against your cunt, catching the crown into your clit until you’re shaking underneath him. There’s something so primal about it that Yuta can’t take it. He can’t think clearly anymore, lost in the feeling of dull pleasure. If it feels so good like this, being inside you might be too much. You’re both naked mostly except for where you both need each other. So close in proximity that Yuta can hear each of your short pants. Erratic and almost thoughtlessly driven by one single thing, pleasing you. Feeling each other, all wrapped up together. There’s something romantic about the mutual desperation. 

Drawing out those moans as he sucks at your tits, making you feel how hard he is. How pent up and needy and fucking horny he is all for you. 

Just humping your soft, sweet little cunt through your panties makes Yuta want to risk everything he’s got. The push and pull of too much and  not enough at the same time.  It’s so fucking euphoric. Your fabric keeps wetter and wetter, and Yuta doesn’t know if it’s you or him - his pre-cum dribbling through his boxers. Mixing together so that there’s less friction than there should be, material all soaked through and tacky. 

He can feel your pussy pulse and tremble. Your spine goes stiff and Yuta pulls away to look at you. You’re beautiful. You’re on edge, in complete bliss and so fucking beautiful. 

“Oh, oh, Yuta - shit, like that. G-gonna, gonna,” 

He doesn’t know what overtakes him, but he babbles on pulling away. 

“Cum for me, please—fuck, baby, p-please, need it,” 

You cum the first time just like that. For Yuta, humping each other like two lovesick teenagers. All for him you get all broken. He can’t help but burn the image of you underneath in his head forever. He needs to see it all again. 

“Oh, that felt so fucking good,” The praise feels like it’s being injected into his bloodstream“You make me feel sho good,” 

The slight slur in your words and praise all together makes him too happy. He kisses you, sloppy and lovedrunk, tongues touching and teeth chattering. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Yuta says with as much conviction as any one man could have. You laugh so loud it makes him smile. “I don’t wish well for anyone you dated before me.”  And you laugh again even louder. 

“You sound polite even when you’re threatening people.”  You say with nothing but affection. Yuta wants more. He wants you. Even with this quiet lull, he’s thinking about how he can get you to cum again. 

He nudges his nose to your cheek, kissing the corner of your mouth before he talks. 

“I want you to do it again,” He states, slow and steady, trying to feel out your willingness “And then I want to fuck you,”

“Wanna fuck me after you make me a mess?” You say, much more bluntly than he has. You’re not wrong “Are you a sadist after all, Yuta?”

“You look good when you’re messy. ‘s not my fault.” He replies, a little bite to his words. This delights you to the point he's proud. He does his best not to look uncool and this one time he’s succeeded. 

“Make a mess of me, Yuta,” You encourage, probably because you know he needs it. And he does “I want it.” 

“Yeah,” Comes his reply, as he pulls himself off of you “Me too,” 

The pace slows down now. The room smells of sex and Yuta can still feel the blood rushing in his ears but nothing so frantic. He lays you back, your legs undoing from behind him and resting. Yuta kisses your sternum first, a wave of emotion running through him. He puts his hands on your sides, sliding them down to meet your hips and squeezing tight. 

He kisses his down your body like it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He can feel you curl in above him - not completely. But you seem a little astonished, and he'd be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel like he accomplished something. He works his way lower slowly, rubbing small circles into your skin as often as he can. Caressing you and committing your body to memory. He wants you to feel him as much as he’s feeling you, to feel his touch. The tension in the air is strengthened by his silence. 

If he were saying anything it’d be something like this. Like can you feel it? how much i love you? or i want all of you. Things he can’t often muster up the strength to say. He’s good with his words but not good enough to communicate all of it so bluntly. Yuta is brave in areas other than love. Sometimes your adoration makes all the words clog in his throat. This is better for him, the physicality brings him peace of mind. 

He likes how you feel. Your skin is much softer when he compares it to his, feels so different and more plush and comfortable. Yuta likes taking you in his hands and kneading the skin gently enough to relax you. Lower and lower, a trail of wet marks until he’s close to your clothed cunt. He stares at the sticky material, kissing it feather light before redirecting his attention to your thighs. 

He starts again, at the bend of your knee - and works his way inward. He’s rougher now, taking time to mark up your inner thigh with precision. Yuta can’t help himself, placing kisses in the last places his teeth bit you. He does it again and again, up along one thigh and then moving to the other until you’re covered in them. 

You’re trembling with anticipation. A sense of contentment washes over Yuta as his breath fans over your cunt, so completely soaked the fabrics a different color. His tongue runs over the material, a shameless moan of pleasure leaving his mouth. You arch your back, hands reaching to take root in his hair. The sensation of tension on his scalp makes his cock twitch. It’s salty and a little bitter, the mix of his pre-cum and yours altogether. Yuta goes to do it again anyway. The mess of it gets him excited, unconsciously rubbing into the sheets underneath him. 

“O-oh, Yuta.” 

He shivers, hands planing over the tops of your thighs as he brings him down close to him. 

“Yeah, yeah baby. Just me and you,” 

A soft laugh leaves your mouth. Yuta can feel how worked up you are. You’re quiet and tense. Some part of him wants to leave you like that waiting, but the other part of him wants to give you everything you’ve ever asked for. He gives into the latter, because that’s what he wants more. Rolls the fabric off of your legs with a deep sigh, a pleased hum. He loves the way you smell, the scent of sex and arousal mixed with the fancy soaps you keep in your bathroom. Your pussy is as pretty as you are, a sheen of arousal all along your slit. Your clit peeks through, swelled from need. Yuta kisses it without thinking. 

He starts slow. Lays his tongue flat against the seam of your cunt before dragging it up. The taste of you covers his mouth, tangy and slightly sweet - Yuta can’t get enough of you. He moans in appreciation, repeating the gesture as he pulls your pussy close. His nose bumps into your sex. He peers up at you with his lashes. You’re so pretty it makes him want to please. He repeats this over and over - licking at your clit with enthusiasm. Your clit is hard and needy, throbbing against the soft, smooth muscle of his tongue as he gains a sort of rhythm. He gauges your reaction when he tries something new, adding pressure until you’re squirming underneath him. When you start growing noisier, Yuta knows he’s hit the right pace. 

And he stays like that, your pussy soaking his mouth and chin. He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing his fingers between your folds. You let out a soft oh above him, making him want to laugh. He keeps at it, his fingers sliding far enough to tease your entrance. Your hole is twitching without him having done much at all, his middle finger teasing and prodding. 

“Don’t t-tease so much,”  You pant. 

Yuta nearly blows his load listening to you talk like that. He didn’t think you could be so cute. He listens though, pushing his middle finger into you with ease. It doesn’t take too much effort. Your insides are so incredibly wet for him. Your walls are so soft and inviting, syrupy to the touch. Yuta loves feeling them. He gives you time to adjust to the new sensation, fucking in and out slow enough that the tension melts. He gets knuckle deep with his middle finger and when it doesn’t seem like you’re tense anymore - he goes and adds another. 

He does both in tandem - and there’s a period where it’s all a bunch of sensation for you. Eventually it stops being just a feeling, turns into pleasure. He curls his fingers up against you hard, rubbing the soft and spongy area and he can feel you practically lurch forward. Your spine arches, mouth dropped open in a soft ‘o’. Another feeling of pride spreads through his chest, his whole body. He wants you to let go again just like this. While he fingers your weepy cunt and with your clit in his mouth - he wants to see how far he can push. How wet you can get before he ever gets inside. 

Yuta isn’t one for competition or ego. He’s always been easy-going. But something about you being underneath him like this, moaning for him like this - makes him feel like he should put in a little more effort to prove himself. He wants to make you feel so good, wants to see your composure break down steadily. He wants you praise him for it, to fuck each other like animals in the thereafter of your second orgasm. He pushes towards that goal steadfastly, and soon enough your body catches up with him. 

Yuta can practically feel your stomach tighten. You let out a noise, a string of mismatched syllables like a warning. Yuta only hums in encouragement, keeping his pace exactly the same. Feeling it is incredible. His fingers can feel the way your walls tighten up so hard and the tremors of the aftermath. 

Your back curves in a C as you cum, hard for him and he can feel it. He can feel you cum. He can see you, see the pleasure crash into you like a tidal wave. A second. Yuta made you cum twice in a row and he’s already itching to do it a third. 

You practically pry him off as you ride the wave of your high. You sigh deeply, and Yuta licks his fingers. He waits for your adoration, pleased to receive as you pull him up for a kiss. 

“You’re so fucking good, Yuta,” You say and Yuta feels his resolve crumble. He needs to fuck you immediately “So, so good to me baby.” 

He whimpers into your mouth. “I need you.”

You laugh breathlessly, your hand reaching between your bodies to squeeze his cock. Yuta shudders and you giggle to yourself. 

“Yeah. Bet you’re feeling pent up, Yuta. How about I treat you this time? That okay?” 

“Treat me?” 

“By riding you,” You say, smiling at him. He gets chills from the offer “You want that?” 

“Oh. Oh, fuck - please. Please?” 

You smile at him. 

“Lay on your back, sweet boy.” 

Sweet boy. He swallows thickly but does as you say. Lays back and watches you climb over him a second time tonight - this time with a much more obvious intent. He can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous he finds you - no matter how many times he sees you, it’s not easy to get used to. 

You sit up on his lap, naked and beautiful, your hangs tugging down his boxers just enough to free his cock. He hisses at the sensation of air, then moans because your hand squeezed around the shaft. Yuta watches, bewitched, by how you spit into the palm of your hands and let it drip down onto his cock. You stroke until he’s covered in it, saliva making a mess of him. When he’s all wet, you scoot forward just slightly. A hand ends up on his chest as you pull your hips up. 

Guiding the tip to your hole, you sink down on Yuta finally. He can only recognize loosely that there’s no condoms to be seen but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. There’s a slight sensation of tension that quickly gives away to nothing but slick, white-hot pleasure. You feel amazing. It’s not like anything he’s ever felt in his entire life and each time you drop down another inch - he’s biting his cheek trying not to cum immediately. That’d be such a waste, even if you’ve promised to fuck like rabbits - Yuta wants to make this last long. 

You lower yourself steadily until all of him is inside. Your expression is slightly pinched, and your whole body trembles before you finally seem comfortable. You lean forward, your hand next to Yuta’s head as you look at him. 

“Cum when you feel like you need to, ‘kay?” 

Yuta just swallows. 

Before he gets a chance to adjust to the feeling, you pick your hips and slam them back down on his cock without breaking a sweat. Yuta nearly screams, his hands immediately shooting to your hips to try and slow you down. You give him a wry grin, He almost wants to plead for your mercy. 

“Want me to go slower?” 

“Please be nice.” 

You giggle but heed his request. Repeating the motion but slower as promised, you rock yourself steadily onto Yuta’s cock. The pace is controlled and smooth, a rhythmic pass of your hips over and over. Your insides feel like they’ll melt him completely, make him liquid from the inside out. You’re picturesque riding him, tits bouncing and leaned forward enough that Yuta can see the concentration on your face. He watches you find your own pleasure in it too - somewhere half-way between grinding and bouncing that makes you look so good. He feels so incredible like this. 

He moves his hands so they’re grabbing your ass and only moves with you slightly. Not enough to change the pace, but to meet you. The room is filled with the sound of skin hitting skin - a tacky smack as your bounces hard enough to hit Yutas thighs. Something about is so vulgar, but something about is so sensual. He can feel every nerve in his body standing on edge. Your hand moves gently between your bodies to tease your clit as you ride and Yuta can’t help but be impressed by your stamina. He feels so spoiled. Feels so mind-numbingly good he wants to go brain dead while you drain for everything he’s got. 

Your expression is blissed out as you hit your stride, absolutely debauched. He can feel you again, another rush of arousal. He’s getting better at telling when you’re close. Your pussy is so sloppy all for him, because of him. So messy that it’s dripping down his cock onto his balls, all over the sheets underneath you. He can feel you clench in anticipation - the sudden spasming in the build up. 

“Gonna cum again and I want you cum right after me, yeah baby? Can you do that?” 

Yuta groans. 

“Pleasepleaseplease.” Is all he can make out. You laugh, breathy. Your pace is still the same as you rub your clit. The third time you cum is less intense. It’s a shorter wave, a softer sort of orgasm that seems to ease you more than it does anything else. Even still, you clench around his cock hard - getting so much wetter than you were a minute ago. 

It’s in the tremors that Yuta finally feels in touch with himself again. He loses himself completely. Finally giving into the sensation that’s been drowning him, He feels it in his entire lower body. Every atom of him finally catching up to the high of the release. It’s so intense when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. His eyes shoot open then go back closed. The coil in his stomach loosens more slowly at first than all at once, like a car crash. When Yuta finally cums he sees nothing but white stars in his vision. He can’t scream, can’t speak - so he holds onto you tight and finishes to the sound of your gentle coaxing. Your voice is shot hoarse as you coo to him.

“That’s it baby, cum for me. That’s it, there you go.” Echoes around in his head. Cum spurts out of him, thick and hot in your walls and he doesn’t even try to pull out as he goes completely limp underneath you. 

When he opens his eyes back up again, you're both just as ragged as each other. Yuta can’t stop himself from laughing. He hugs you tight to his chest as you lay on top of him - naked bodies and tangled limbs. 

“I love you,” Yuta says blearily. You laugh. 

“I love you too, Yuta.” 

__ 

After you and Yuta manage the energy to shower, you find yourselves back in bed. It’s late when you’re finally ready to sleep, being in the same positions you were before. Only this time with new sheets. 

Yuta lets you into his arms, wrapping them around you as you nuzzle into his chest. 

“So. Was it worth breaking your rules?” 

Yuta can’t help but break out into laughter at your question. He nods his head, a flush on his expression. 

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” 

[lydiimae]

Strains and Stresses

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x !fem reader

Warnings: Light hints at sex, mentions of drinking, the ton being cruel to the reader, Anthony fighting with the reader, old concepts about class and womanhood, a very icky insult thrown at the reader by Anthony, fluffy fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

A.N: Hello my sweet loves <3 I am so sorry I have not updated in a while, I just finished finals so life has been hectic. Also- I got a job FINALLY T-T and, more importantly, the class that I was going to take during the summer fell through so I will have much more time to write! BTW THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLOWERS HOLY \^-^/. You are all so kind to me. Anyway, this is a fic based on a request that you can find here and here. I decided to mix the two, as it is a semi-angsty Ant fic that ends in fluff. I hope you enjoy my darling Anons. For those who have requested a fic, I promise they are coming! I am planning on knocking another one or two out next week, but I wanted to write a Ben fic before as he is a big comfort character for me and I need some of that energy lol. P.S. I listened to the slowed version of Futile Devices while I wrote this, because it is just what I imagine falling in love and loving would feel like. Enjoy <3

You adored working for Lady Danbury, who wouldn't? She is an incredible woman, and so very strong. You admired her, for being so independent. You thought that that would be the life you lead, alone and working out your days as a maid. Then, you met him.

Met would be the wrong word, it was more of... stumbling into him after a young debutante 'accidentally' ran into you. You knew who Anthony Bridgerton was, of course. His reputation preceded him. Many of your friends and fellow maids had spoken of how harsh, how blunt, how much of a rake, the Viscount was.

For you, however, he had never been brash nor cruel, nor had he ever lived up to his reputation. For you, he was kind, gentle, and even sweet. He had placed a steadying hand on your back and met your eyes and you knew it was over.

From then on at every ball Lady Danbury held, you would always follow him to the gardens, stealing kisses in her in-home library, and sharing stolen glances from across the ballroom. After the balls, he would take you to his townhouse and you would both spend hours speaking of your lives, your dreams, your troubles. He was nothing but a gentleman.

You tried your best to ignore the strange warmth that bloomed in your chest when you were with him. In a way, you always knew that you would end up with him. You believed that your lives were intertwined, like a string wrapped around your soul that only stopped tugging when you were near him. It was comforting.

He had expressed his love to you about seven months in, on a Sunday morning in bed. The yellow hue of the morning sunrise made it feel like you were in heaven, his hands running against your sides like you were made from the finest porcelain. He said it easily as if it was the most simple thing he had ever had to do. A simple "I love you." was murmured into your ear before his lips pressed against your forehead. Just as easily came the proposal, more of a promise, right there in the same bed.

It was simple, perhaps even plain, but not to you. To you, it showed he was comfortable enough to express his feelings, and his deepest wants, just to you. It was intimate, the light cascading down upon his skin as if he were a god, bringing out every contour and mark on his body.

After the announcement of your engagement, rumors spread like wildfire. Every house in Mayfair was a spark that made the fire grow, little trails of flame splitting off along the way until the fire was all-consuming. He had warned you that the rumors would be bad, that not many would express their support for the union of a maid and a Viscount. You just did not expect it to be so suffocating.

You found solace in his embrace, as you always did, spending countless nights wrapped in the silk sheets at his townhouse, listening to his whispers of affection and praise until they eased the tears that had spilled down your cheeks.

It went on like this for the three long months leading up to the wedding. You were married in the spring, surrounded by his loved ones as yours had passed long ago. It was small enough to feel the heavy weight of the ton lifted off of your shoulders, if only for a moment.

You honeymooned in Bath, spending time in the hillsides on worn blankets for hours, allowing your skin to be tanned by the sun. When you would go back to the villa you were staying at, you would spend the night wrapped in his bare embrace, relishing in the feeling of his skin upon yours. It was the most calming, loving, and divine three months of your life.

It has been almost eight months since the honeymoon ended. Six months of putting up with the cruel words spoken by members of the ton, of sticking to his side at balls just so you could try and shake the feeling of the many glares sent your way. Six months of learning not only what it is to be a Viscountess, but what it is like to be a noblewoman.

Anthony had spent a month teaching you the proper etiquette that came with being a noblewoman, a lot of it being common sense thanks to Lady Danbury's way of ruling around her home. However, there were some things you found to be too niche to remember. One thing was that a lady could not go out on a walk by herself.

As a maid, walks alone in the gardens of Lady Danbury's estate had become a part of your daily routine. You would often spend countless hours sitting beneath a willow tree flipping pages of a new book or you would walk around the grounds, seeking solace in the fresh air to clear your mind after a particularly hard day. You never snuck out alone, except to see Anthony, and even then you did nothing untoward, which is why it was so hard for you to remember this silly rule. It was one you forgot today, too.

"Thank you, Rose." You hum to your lady's maid as she finishes your hair. She smiles and curtsies in return. "Of course, my lady. You need only ask if you need anything else." She says before she walks out of the room. You sigh, the title the servants address you with will never not feel strange. You adjust your jewels before standing up and walking to the window.

You had been told as you woke that your husband would be in his study today, claiming he must work on the financial affairs, meaning you have the day to yourself. The view from the master bedroom was a gorgeous one, the windows overlooking the entirety of the lands that Aubery Hall encompassed. You smile to yourself, deciding to take a stroll, perhaps even find a spot to enjoy your new book of sonnets Anthony's brother gifted you.

You pluck the book in question off of your bedside table before walking down the grand staircase. The house, other than the footsteps of the servants, is quiet. No one around to stop you from enjoying some time outside, alone. You grab your parasol and open the door, stepping out into the summer air before making your way around the lands of the estate.

Anthony leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his limbs after finishing the last piece of paperwork he has on his desk. He takes a large swig of bourbon before standing up and moving to the window, pulling the curtains open.

He glances out over the sprawling hills of the estates, swirling the copper liquid in his glass as he takes in the view. As his eyes roam, he spots a small figure making their way up one of the hills. At first, he thinks it a servant, probably out to collect fresh flowers for his bedroom upon his wife's request, but when he glances again he sees your parasol. The one he brought back from one of his ventures to France.

He can feel himself getting angry. He had drilled this into your head one too many times, never be anywhere alone, not in public and not on private lands. The servants whisper, and their gossip spreads even faster than the gossip of the bloodthirsty Mamas of the ton. He downs the rest of his bourbon before slamming the glass on his desk. He rounds it and grabs his velvet jacket from its place on the back of his chair, slinging it around his shoulders before stomping out of the room.

You are just about to sit down when you hear the calling of your name from towards the estate. You look over your shoulder, leaning on your closed parasol, to find your husband hurriedly making his way over to where you stand.

At first, you think that something bad might've happened, perhaps he found something in the many documents that was awry, but you know that is not the case from the way he is walking. Stomping, rather. He is angry, furious even, so you try and wrack your mind to find what you have done to make him this angry.

Before you can he is upon you, one of his large hands encircling your wrists and dragging you away from the hill. "Anthony, do not grab me like some sort of brute!" You yelp, trying to tug away from his bruising grip, which he only tightens upon your plea. "I shall grab you however I wish." He snarls, making your eyes widen. "Be quiet until we are inside."

He tugs you along until you are both inside of his study, where he slams the door and locks it. You begin to speak but he quickly interrupts. "Have you any idea of what you could have just done by being out there, Y/N?!" He shouts, making you take several steps back in surprise. "I was only going for a walk." You whisper and he scoffs. "A walk alone, you foolish woman!" He continues, his voice only getting louder.

The insult sends anger through your veins. "You shall not insult your own wife for merely going outside!" You shout back and he narrows his eyes almost dangerously. "I have told you hundreds of times that you are not permitted outside without a proper companion, Y/N! Going against that is indeed foolish as I have hammered it into your head countless times!" He shouts. "I am not foolish! This is all new for me! I-" You start but he is quick to respond.

"New? That is rich! Utterly rich, because to me it has been eleven months! Eight of which you have been here, doing your duties as my Viscountess!" He shouts louder, on the verge of screaming. You press yourself against the wall opposite to him. "Did they not teach you anything in your time as a maid?! You still act like a common whore even though we have fought about this too many times to count! I am tired of it!" He shouts.

Common whore. The title cuts straight through you like a hot knife, the burns making your eyes well up with tears. The title has been used to spite you at every ball, in every gossip letter, and in every whisper you have heard in the last year. It does not hurt coming from them any longer, but from him? From your husband? It feels like he has damaged your very being.

You stand there stunned, watching his mouth move but hearing no words. "You think I am a common whore?" You whisper and he stops, looking at you. You are pressed against the wall, your arms hugging your frame, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. His body language visibly changes from that of an angered husband to a guilty one.

"Y/N I did not mean-" He begins but you shake your head. "You most certainly did mean it, it came out of your mouth!" You sob. "I was angry! I am angry!" He shouts, more in a desperate act now, wishing he could reverse time. "So?!" You shout, your gloved hands pressing into your bare arms. "I have never once insulted you like that! Never once used what has been said about you as a weapon for merely-" You laugh bitterly, shaking your head and looking away. "For merely going outside." You scoff.

He falters and visibly slumps in defeat. "It is foolish, but they will talk, Y/N. You know-" He begins quietly, but again you do not let him finish. "Yes, Anthony. They will talk, they will say the words you have just spoken to me." You say, wiping your eyes. "I forgot, and I know you have drilled every rule into my head but this is not the norm for me." You whisper

"When I was a maid, no, even when I was a little girl, I would go wherever I wished alone. I would pick up food at the market for my family, and take my brother to his job at the factory, and now I cannot even go outside alone? Upon my husband's private lands, no less?" You whisper. "So forgive me, Anthony, for forgetting rules that you and your siblings have grown up abiding by. I am trying to learn and remember them now, after living a very different life." You say, looking at your feet in an attempt to stop the tears. As if not looking at him will somehow ease the sting of his words.

He scoops you into his arms without thinking about it, pressing his forehead to yours. "Y/N, you know I did not mean it." He whispers and you frown, trying to tug away. "No, no. I might've meant it in the moment, and I know I cannot take it back." He amends, his hold on you tightening. Still, you refuse to meet his eyes. "Darling, please look at me. I swear I shall never say anything as cruel as what I did ever again." He whispers, his fingers curling around your chin so he can bring your gaze back to him.

When your eyes meet his he offers a sad smile, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "It was cruel. No, no. Cruel is too kind of a word, it was vile, for me to utter such a word when speaking of my own wife." He whispers, his hand coming down to your cheek. "I swear to you that I mean it when I say I am sorry, you shall never know how sorry I am for saying something so disgusting to you."

He continues, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have now begun to flow again. "You are the most important thing to me. I have done a terrible job of showing you that today. I shall spend every day trying to ease the pain of my foolish words." He vows, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know this is hard for you, the rules of society are so... foolishly strict for women and even I cannot imagine how much stress they are adding upon everything else" He murmurs, and you tug at his sleeve, willing him into an embrace.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and allow yourself to cry. "Shhh, Y/N. You are perfect, no matter your status." He whispers in your ear, running one of his hands up and down your back as the other rests on your hip. "I am not a good Viscountess, Anthony." You whisper and his grip on you tightens. "Hush. You are the perfect Viscountess, Y/N. The perfect Bridgerton." He promises.

"You have been learning so quick, one slip-up of an utterly foolish rule does not discount the many months where you have been perfect." He whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. "Neither do the words of your brutish husband." He teases quietly and your lips turn up a bit. "The gossiping Mamas will find another topic in time, my love. They are merely jealous that their daughters are still stuck without a husband while you are here." He murmurs and you nod.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, watching your eyes flutter shut. "Better?" He whispers, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. You nod and he sighs in relief, bringing you closer to his chest. "I will never be able to express how sorry I am for saying that to you." He whispers. You smile, leaning into his touch and nodding.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and wipes the remainder of your tears away before pulling back a bit. "We shall have a picnic." He whispers and you open your eyes, laughing. "We do not have to" You giggle and he grins, shaking his head. "Nonsense, we must. I have been cooped up inside all day and I wish to spend time with you, in the sunshine." He hums, pressing his lips to your nose.

An hour later you are both lying down on a lacy blanket, a picnic basket full of sweet treats. Two glasses of wine stand abandoned on the grass, being forgotten in a mess of kisses. Your head is resting on his chest, your hands clasped together over one of his legs. "I love you." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your brow. Your eyes are shut but you smile. "And I love you." You whisper back, falling asleep while bathed in sunlight.

How divine it feels to be loved by Anthony Bridgerton.

[sceletaflores]

A Small Favor.

part one!

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: the stress of his new job is taking a toll on mike. he did such a good job helping you out, so you decide to repay the favor.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: 18+! MDNI! oral sex (m!receiving), vaginal fingering, handjobs, heavy on the praise, munch!mike always.

authors note: the heavily heavily HEAVILY requested part two is finally done. (quite literally wrote this instead of listening to my bio lecture) i still can't believe that fic has gotten so much traction, i hope this one measures up! it got waaaay more angsty near the end than i thought it would hehe also i decided to include everyone commenting under part one requesting part two in the taglist of this fic so you're welcome lol mwah <3

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧

It had been one week and three days since the couch incident, which is what you’ve lovingly taken to calling whatever happened between you and Mike. One week and three whole days of Mike dancing around you and the elephant in the room.

The morning after the couch incident he practically ran out the door taking Abby to school when you tried to bring it up. The next time you attempted to have “the talk” he stuttered out an excuse before retreating to the safety of his bedroom, so you gave up.

You know that there’s something between Mike and you that crosses the line of just friends, you both felt something change that night, but getting him to face his feelings and actually admit that will take work.

It's another night of sitting on Mike's couch mulling over what to do about the whole situation when you hear the front door open. You're shocked at first, usually you're asleep by the time Mike gets home. Sure enough when you check the clock it reads 6:33 in bulky red characters. Apparently, time flies when you're obsessing over how to get your friend turned complicated-accidental-one-night-stand to admit they have feelings for you.

You try (and fail) not to listen in on every move Mike makes in the kitchen, fighting to keeping your gaze trained on the TV as he makes his way to the living room.

In your eyes peripheral vision you see him begin to make his way to the couch, but he hesitates when his eyes fall on you. He awkwardly hovers between the two rooms for a few seconds until he takes a breath and walks over to the couch.

Mike sits next to you on the couch with a soft grunt. You wrestle with the need to look at him fully, but you can see out of the corner of your eye he's taken off his work boots and vest. His hair is sticking out at weird angles, curls frizzy and unruly. Your hand twitches against your thigh with the want to run your fingers through them.

You can feel your heart beat faster, struggling to sit still in the thick tension surrounding the two of you. You flick your eyes back to the TV in a vain attempt to focus on anything other than Mike.

Eventually, you lose the fight with your screaming inner monologue and chance a sideways glace in his direction. You're beyond surprised to find him already looking at you.

You stare back, a deer caught in headlights. The dim light coming from the TV highlights his eyes. Mike opens his mouth to seemingly break the silence but he stops himself short of actually speaking. You can see him fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

It’s silent for a beat before you decide to speak up.

“Hi.” You say, it's a whisper but you might have well just yelled with how it cuts into the air between the two of you. Mike lets out what might be laugh, it sounds forced. "Hi." He replies stiffly.

"Home later than usual." You point out, fidgeting with your nail. Mike's home a little after 6: everyday, him being home 30 minutes late is odd.

Mike nods, he lets his head fall onto the back of the couch allowing his eyes to slip closed as he does. "Yeah," He replies, the position of his head allows you to get your greedy fill of his sharp jawline. "Jobs been hell."

You don't respond, but you know. Mike's been haggard recently, and not just because of the couch incident. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse, he's been forgetful, not to mention how much more neurotic and paranoid he's been.

Mike has been a wreck these past couple of days, and you want nothing more than to help him feel good. If not for just a few minutes.

You take a chance, and move to let your hand rest over his jean clad thigh. Mike tenses up immediately but doesn’t move to run or push your hand off.

"I could help you,” You say quietly, forcing yourself to keep eye contact. Mike's wide eyes flit rapidly between your eyes and lips. “Help you relax…” You trail off, voice barely above a whisper.

Your offer hangs heavy in the silence that settles. Mike just stares at you, after a while you start to regret making such a bold move. There’s an apology’s on the tip of your tongue, but when you start taking your hand off Mikes thigh he quickly grabs your wrist.

Your eyes snap back up to meet Mikes. His pupils are blown out, black encompassing warm brown. His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip.

“You can...” Mike says simply, guiding your hand back to his thigh. Only he places it much higher up, high enough that you can feel the rough metal of his zipper brushing against the tip of your pinkie. "I need it." He breathes out desperately, eyes big and pleading. You allow yourself a second to just watch Mikes face before you start to move with a purpose.

You snake your hand lower, finding the already hard length of his cock through the rough material of his jeans. Mirroring what he did to you those ten days ago, you start to grind the heel of your hand against him.

Mike shudders, eyes fluttering shut at your touch. You can physically see tension slowly exit his body, leaving him slack and relaxed enough to sink deeper into the couch cushions.

The sight of him at ease and comfortable lights a fire in you. You feel a deep primal need to care for him, to make him feel good.

Patience wearing thin, you reach for the button of his jeans. Even in your arousal induced haste, you take a beat to appreciate the swell of Mike's cock pressing up against the denim. If this was any other time, you'd want to draw it out. To tease Mike until he can't take it anymore, but now is not any other time.

You pop the button to Mike's jeans, dragging the zipper down swiftly and pulling the flaps of his jeans open to frame his lewdly tented boxers. You can hear Mikes breath hitch, unable to keep from squirming under your intense gaze. The thin material leaves nothing to the imagination, the length and girth of him on display. There's a growing wet patch near the tip that's turned the light blue fabric dark and slick. An ache starts deep in your core, anticipation making you feel warm all over.

Slowly, you tug his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free and smack up against his stomach. "Ah! Shit," He hisses, hands balling up into fists by his sides.

Mike's dick is perfect. A nice length and girth you know will have your jaw aching in the best way later. The tip a soft pink color, and steadily leaking a stream of pre-come.

"I want to blow you," You say softly, getting close to Mike so your lips brush over his ear with every word. He shivers, mouth dropping open in a quiet moan. "Will you let me?"

Mike nods his head frantically. "Please," He pants, chest rising and falling quickly. "Please, I want it."

His begging is music to your ears.

You slide off the couch, kneeling between Mike's spread thighs. His straining cock makes your mouth water in anticipation. Holding the base in your hand, you lean forward to lick a board stripe from root to tip. Moaning at the heady taste and velvety feel of him on your tongue.

"God." Mike groans at the feel of your tongue.

You pull off with a slick pop, breaking a small thread of saliva trailing from the head of Mike's dick to your lips with your tongue. You lave over the tip, looking up to find Mike staring at you flushed and dark-eyed. You keep the eye contact as you sink back down, beginning to build up a rhythm.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mike raise his hands before hesitating, and dropping them back down to the couch cushion. You can tell he wants to touch you, but he’s unsure of himself. You take his hands in yours, and place them on the top of your head.

At first he just sort of holds your head, overthinking what to do even with your permission. You’d laugh if you weren’t so busy preening over the feel of his unfairly big hands holding your head delicately, like he might break you.

“Fuck, your mouth…” Mike whispers, his words trailing off as he watches your lips work over his throbbing cock. His confidence grows, finally allowing himself to run his fingers through your hair and gather it in a loose fistful. Your moan of encouragement has him tightening his grip just a touch.

“Jesus,” Mike breathes quietly, you give him a lick underneath the head of his cock in response. "Fuck. Feels so good.”

You hum in response, working Mike's cock faster to draw out more of those whimpers that he can't hold in. Hollowing your cheeks and sinking down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slick slurping sounds.

Mike's noises have gotten progressively louder by the second, you can feel his pulse beating wildly against your tongue through the vein running up his cock. You know he's close, and you're desperate to make him come.

You give him one long languid suck, swirling your tongue over the head as you pull off. His cock is slick with your spit, pulsing warningly. You use the wetness of your saliva as a makeshift lube to start stroking over him slowly.

"How's it feel, Mike?" You purr sensually,

When you sink back down, you don't break eye contact. Mike's eyes roll back into his head, the way his lips part on a sharp gasp, how his back arches off the couch, how his fist tightens even more around your hair.

Above you, Mike grunts, "Oh fuck, baby," His back arches, a rough gasp torn from his throat. The hand in your hair tugs sharply as he chokes out, "Gonna come, shit, gonna fucking come."

Mike shouts hoarsely, hips stuttering as he starts to come. His cock gives one final twitch in your mouth before he pumps load after load of warm come into your mouth. You moan loudly at the taste of his release coating your taste buds, swallowing what pools on your tongue routinely.

You continue to work your mouth over his cock, bringing Mike through the aftershocks of his orgasm, reveling in the broken sounds he keeps making. You lave your tongue over him savoring the taste of him, until he's tugging at your hair to pull you off his sensitive cock.

"C'mere, c'mere." He whines desperately. You’ve barely come up for air before Mike is bodily dragging you into his lap and kissing you like he needs it more than air.

His hand darts down your body and into your sweats. Mike moans in your mouth at the feel of your lacy panties absolutely soaked with your arousal. He wastes no time in finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over it with his thumb drawing a loud moan from your lips.

"Shit," You exclaim, nails digging into Mike's forearm. Your hips buck up into his touch, chasing his touch. "Mike..." You whine, needing him to do more.

"You drive me fucking crazy," He whispers roughly against the side of your face, sliding his pointer finger through the slick wetness of your folds. "I can't stop thinking about you."

“Oh god, Mike.” His fingers feel amazing, rubbing you in all the right places, his words lighting a fire in your stomach.

Mike gathers your wetness before pushing his thick middle finger in your tight heat. Your own moan gets drowned out by his guttural groan at the feeling of you clenching down on his finger.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He moans, thrusting his finger in and out of your aching pussy slowly. "You're so perfect, so perfect for me." Mikes lips trail kisses down your jaw as he adds a second finger into your dripping pussy, brushing against the spot inside you that sends white hot sparks of pleasure zinging up your spine.

"How's that feel?" He asks roughly, throwing your earlier teasing back in your face. You moan wantonly, hips moving grinding down as you ride his fingers in earnest.

Mike angles his hand in a way that lets his fingers thrust into you, hitting your g-spot all while the palm of his hand grinds into your clit

“I’m gonna come, Mike,” You whine desperately, hips stuttering as you tip over the edge. “I’m coming.”

"Yes, come for me." Mike whispers, lips brushing over your cheek.

Your chest heaves as you come down from your orgasm, collapsing against Mikes chest. You're an absolute mess, thighs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. A hiss escapes your mouth as Mike eases his fingers out of your twitching pussy. "Sorry." He whispers softly, kissing the top of your head tenderly.

You allow yourself to lay on his chest with his strong arms around your waist, keeping you close. So close you can feel his warm breath puffing out against your neck.

You don't want to let it, but reality sets in. "Are you gonna run away in the morning?" Your voice is so quiet you don't know if Mike even heard, and you can't force yourself to look up at him.

It takes him a second to register your words, you don't have to look at him to know he's wincing. "I," Mike starts, trying to find the right words. "I don't know." He admits, lips brushing against your hair.

The anger mixed with shame and embarrassment is quick to come, you scoff pushing off Mike's chest so you can go home. "Of course." You spit bitterly.

"Wait!" He rushes out, arms tightening on your waist to stop you leaving.

"What?" You bite out bitterly, whipping your head around to stare daggers at Mike. It backfires on you almost immediately, forcing you to stare into his big sad dumb eyes. He falters, mouth opening and closing as he fumbles to say anything.

You can't help that the look in his eyes tames your anger ever so slightly. The way he's silently pleading with you to stay, his brows drawn in concern and lips pulled down in a frown. Your steely resolve crumbles pathetically.

"What?" You repeat quietly. Mike flounders for a second more, before he finally gives in. "Please stay." He exhales softly, hands planting themselves on your hips, giving them a light squeeze..

Maybe it's your shitty resolve, maybe it's the post orgasm afterglow clouding your judgement, maybe it's the earnest look in Mike's eyes that keeps you from pushing out of his grip and out the door, but you just can't bring yourself to leave.

You stare back at him wrestling with your thoughts, but it's a losing game and you know that.

"Okay," You whisper slowly, settling yourself back down into his lap. "I'll stay."

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧

i could NOT figure out how to end this, but maybe i could do a part three? would literally anyone want that?

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @mfdxz @mikeschmidtgf @lee-inthebox @sunny-deary @ncqari

extra taglist!

@ballorawan740 @slasherluvrrr @importantgalaxyrunaway @iwantsleepplz @theaterhoefornewsies

[lovelyhan]

— divorce child ⟢

you like to think that your most recent breakup with vernon ended on relatively good terms. there’s only one issue left to sort out: who’s getting custody of the cat you got together?

★ FEATURING; vernon x producer!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 9.2k words

★ TAGS; exes to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; 3/4 stories in the series are now up <3 i hope you like this bc i really just wanted an excuse to write something fluffy and adorable with vernon.... he's got me in my feels these past few days fr. small heads up that this fic also features a bunch of characters from again and again, the mingyu installment of the series. this story takes place a couple years after that fic, but you don't necessarily have to read that part to get the events in this one :3c

★ P.S.; this was not proofread as usual lol if you spot any mistakes, do me a favor and pretend they don't exist !

this is part of the doting on you! series.

★ SMUT TAGS; vanilla, clothed sex, wearing ur bf's clothes kink(?), unprotected sex, body worship, praise kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is just so sweet okay

★ SVT TAGLIST; @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @cheolhub - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jinniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @jkbabiey - @featmia ★ SERIES TAGLIST; @exactlygreatcoffee - @gyusbabydoll - @jeonwonhi - @ti--red

“You sure you don’t need me to pitch in for this month’s check-up? I can always wire you some cash, you know.”

As you zip the pet carrier shut, you roll your eyes despite the fact that Vernon can’t exactly see your expression. Your phone’s sitting all the way on the coffee table but you were so preoccupied with wrestling your cat, Milana into the bag that you couldn’t exactly hold it like a normal person would.

“I’m good. You already covered for me last time, remember?” You remind him before taking the call off loudspeaker before pressing your phone to your ear. “I just got her inside the carrier. Might have to patch up a few scratches before we leave though.”

Vernon laughs. “She always hates going to the vet. It’s nothing too bad, right?”

“I’ve handled worse,” you snort before grabbing a couple of band-aids you keep around various corners of the house for this scenario specifically. “How about you? I thought I remembered Jihoon mentioning that today’s gonna be shut-in day. You know, that time of the month when you guys lock yourselves inside the studio to brainstorm lyrics together. Didn’t think you’d have the time for a phone call.”

“I always have time for a phone call when Milana’s going to the vet,” he says a-matter-of-factly and you can almost picture the warm smile on his face. The thought is enough to make your chest flutter, but you push the feeling down before it can completely come to the surface. “But you are right about shut-in day though. I might have to go in a few, so if there’s anything you need, you better tell me right now or forever hold your peace.”

“Nah. I told you, we’re good,” you insist with an eyeroll before placing band-aids on the scratches that your cat affectionately left all over your arms. “I’ll drop by the company later to drop off a mix that Jihoon asked me to mess around with. But if it’s shut-in day, I doubt we’ll get to see you.”

“Hmm. I can hide his Coke Zero stash outside so he’ll be forced to go out and get it?”

“Now that’s just downright evil.”

“It is. Anyway, aren’t you going to be late?”

“I already am, but Milana’s vet adores her, remember?”

“Nari adores everyone’s pets. Mingyu-hyung told me so.”

“Shush. You talk like our baby isn’t special,” you huff as you sling the strap of the pet carrier across your shoulder. “We’ll head out now. Thanks for checking in, Vernon.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, take care on the way.”

You end the call with your heart racing inside your chest. It’s not the phone call with your ex-boyfriend that flusters you, per-se. You work in the same agency, for god’s sake. Meaning, you’d be in deep shit if talking to him throws you off just because your relationship has already come to an end. 

But whenever you jokingly refer to Milana as ‘our’ baby whenever you talk to him, it feels like you’re encroaching on something you’ve already lost a long time ago. 

Your listlessness lasts until you pull up by the parking lot. Whether Milana’s staying at yours or at Vernon’s, this pet clinic at the heart of Seoul has always been your go-to. The fact that the attending veterinarian is Mingyu’s girlfriend does wonders to your final bills—she loves giving discounts to regulars and acquaintances—and you like to think you’ve found a friend in her ever since. 

The automatic doors slide open when you walk in—Milana’s bag still slung over your shoulder. Chae, the receptionist, flashes you a bright smile before you notice the familiar golden retriever lying in front of the front desk. Old eyes flicker up to you for a moment before his tail twitches once or twice to signal his excitement. 

“Good morning, Chae. Good morning, Namja,” you coo before crouching down to pet his head. “Is Nari waiting for me? Sorry for the hold up. It was a bit tough getting this one inside her bag.” 

Chae lets out a soft laugh as she types away behind her computer. “Really? Vernon always gushes about how much of a sweetheart she is whenever it’s his turn to bring her in.”

You don’t know whether you should be surprised or embarrassed that Chae knows—or at least has an inkling—of your little arrangement with Vernon. When the two of you were still together, you always brought Milana in at the same time, but now you’re taking turns in bringing your little divorce child to the vet. 

But hey, at least you’re still upholding your parental responsibilities, right?

“Of course he does,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “He knows better than anyone that getting Lana inside the bag is a nightmare. This one’s already her third this year. I was thinking of investing in a cage-type carrier instead but Vernon said it was like we’re sending her to prison.”

Chae sighs. “Men. Always so dramatic. Oh, but Doctor Nari’s waiting for you inside.” The receptionist glances at you curiously before you start taking Milana out of the bag so Chae could measure her weight.

It’s a bit of a challenge, handing your full-grown Maine Coon over to Chae, but despite the fact that she thrashes all around before vet visits, Milana has always been tame whenever she’s at the clinic. You manage to settle inside Nari’s office once your cat’s vitals have been measured and her vet is more than happy to see a familiar face.

“Well, if it isn’t Milana and her single mother,” she chuckles. “You here for routine check-ups? Where’s the father, though?”

You roll your eyes—fully aware that she’s only teasing. “Do you ask Vernon where’s the mother when he’s the one who brings her here?”

“Maybe.” Nari smiles before getting up from her desk and receiving your big cat into her arms. “Oh. She’s gotten heavier since the last time she came in.”

“Yeah, her father has been spoiling her with too much catnip. I only found out last week,” you sigh as you settle into one of the seats adjacent to the one across Nari’s desk. “But she’s been hairballing a lot recently. She doesn’t usually groom as much as she does now. Should I be concerned?”

She hums for a moment as she puts on her stethoscope—checking Milana’s heartbeat while her free hand examines your cat’s light brown coat. “Doesn’t look like she has any fleas or mites hanging around, but I can always do a scrape for you if you want the definitive results on paper. Though the excessive grooming could also be caused by stress.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Stress?”

Nari nods before hanging her steth around her neck once more, stroking Milana’s fur with calm affection. “Cats are more easily agitated than dogs. Lots of things can stress them out. Loud music, vacuum cleaners, thunderstorms… Actually, even a switch-up in their pet parent’s schedules is grounds for stress.” 

You can only watch in silence as Nari scratches behind Milana’s ears, making your cat purr like a kitten despite the fact that her long limbs are spilling out of her vet’s arms. But regardless of how adorable she looks, Nari’s words got you thinking.

In the tail-end of the breakup, it was a topic that was brought up over and over: who gets to keep Milana? You both split half and half with expenses after the two of you adopted her at a nearby shelter. Not to mention, you both loved her in equal measure, so it was difficult to come to a decision that the two of you could soundlessly agree on. In the end, you settled with the compromise of taking turns watching over Milana because neither of you could stand not being able to see her for too long.

It’s been about three months since you and Vernon call it quits and three months since you’ve agreed on ‘splitting custody’. She stays with you on weekdays and with him on weekends—along with some exceptions for when one party isn’t available. It was also agreed that you’ll take turns bringing her to the vet every month to make sure nothing is amiss with her health.

But when you planned on paying Nari a visit today, you didn’t expect to find out that the fluctuating schedule you and Vernon made a deal out of could be a possible stressor for your cat.

“I think you should just keep her.” Nari suggests, a hint of concern creeping on her face. “You could always tell Vernon to visit Milana whenever he wants to, right? The back-and-forth travel is definitely going to take a toll on this one. Also, cats are smarter than you think. I’m sure she’s already sensed something’s off with her parents a long time ago.”

Milana heaves a deep sigh as if she understood every single word her vet just said and you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at your gut. You thought that this was the best decision you could make for both yours and Vernon’s sanity, but you completely forgot to take Milana’s well-being into account. You can almost hear Nari silently judging you, but you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

“We’ll… We’ll talk about it,” you reassure, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But…she’s okay, right? No serious health complications or anything?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sweetie, you’re literally the most responsible cat owner I’ve ever met. No one ever bothers to bring their pets in unless the situation’s already too severe to handle. So you’re good. Milana’s perfectly healthy. Just a little…sad, maybe.”

“Why would she be sad?”

Nari stares at you like you just asked something ridiculous, but thankfully she doesn’t dish out any half-assed remarks about it—opting to settle Milana back onto a nearby examination table to do a couple more physical exams. 

“Have I ever told you that me and Gyu used to be in a similar situation in the past?” 

You stare at Nari with a bewildered look while her gaze never strays too far from her patient. She even coos out little remarks of praise whenever Milana behaves. How can someone who’s this focused drop such a question in the middle of work? 

“Vernon told me you guys split up and got back together after almost a year,” you tell her dryly, not liking the fact that you admitted your ex-boyfriend is a big gossip, but you don’t see any point in hiding the fact that you knew. “What brought it up?” 

Nari’s lips twitch into a firm smile before she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “I just think that…you and Vernon? You’re kind of on the same boat we were in before we reconciled. It’s either the two of you are too stubborn or too afraid to see it for what it is.”

Too afraid to…? 

“What do you mean?” you ask. “It’s best that we split up, you know? Relationships between co-workers can get ugly really quickly if we forget to be professional. I don’t want us to stop doing the things we love just because of some work-related spat.” 

“Then the two of you should just learn how to segregate work from play,” Nari insists before smoothing her gloved hands across Milana’s long torso. “I’m not trying to meddle or anything, okay? It’s just that there’s virtually no reason for you to not get back together. You’re still taking care of Milana together, still checking up on each other, still working together—”

“There it is. That’s the reason why we can’t be together, Nari,” you groan at her stubbornness. “We’re still working together.” 

She huffs. “Is there a clause in your company’s contract that prohibits romantic relationships among talents and staff?” 

“I’ve never read the fine print, but I’m pretty sure there’s something along those lines somewhere in there.”

“Oh. Well, who cares? Milana needs a loving home where her parents can take care of her at the same time.” Nari then leans down to cup her face in her hands. “Isn’t that right? You need both of them to look after you, hm?”

“So you’re suggesting that Vernon and I should just get back together for Milana’s sake?” you ask half-jokingly and to your surprise, Nari nods like it’s the easiest question in the world.

“Well, I won’t make any assumptions by saying that you’re still in love with him, since you’re the only one who can say that for sure. But come on, do it for the not-so-little baby. You can just learn to love each other again in the process!” 

You can hardly believe your ears. In the quick stories that Vernon shared about Mingyu’s girlfriend, you never expected her to be this carefree about the matters of the heart. It must’ve been her six-foot boyfriend’s bubbly personality rubbing off on her. 

“Right,” you say with a shallow sigh. “Pray tell, why’d you and Mingyu split up in the first place?”

Nari’s eyes dart to the ceiling as if deep in thought as Milana nibbles playfully at one of her latex-covered fingers. The silence presses on for a few more seconds before she turns to you with a mellowed out expression.

“I thought we weren’t going to work because of how different our jobs are,” she admonishes quietly, lips spread into a thin smile. “But after being an idiot for almost six months, I realized that our jobs don’t matter. I love him. I don’t think I really stopped. Don’t think I’ll ever stop, actually.

“That’s why I was so surprised when I found out you and Vernon broke up three months ago!” Nari continues with a disgruntled look on her face. “The two of you spend so much time in the studio and at your apartment. You even have a child together!” She then gestures dramatically over to Milana. “So forgive me if it doesn’t make sense to me, why the two of you broke up. But won’t you reconsider it? For Milana?”

You shake your head. “Nari, some relationships just aren’t meant to work out. Just because you and Mingyu managed to make good on that second chance, doesn’t mean it’ll be the same with us. We’ve already…settled with what we have right now.”

“What, the endless pining and using the poor cat as an excuse to see each other?” She huffs again and, god, she reminds you so much of Mingyu now it’s actually funny. “Come on, sweetie. I’ve been in your place before, so I know perfectly well. Gosh, this must be how Seungkwan felt when I was still getting my shit together.”

Unsolicited mention of Seungkwan aside, you just don’t see any reason to pursue what Nari is convincing you to do. Nothing really changed after you and Vernon broke up. That’s one of the things you like about him—how easy it is to fall back into a comfortable friendship despite the history you shared. 

But you aren’t going to deny the fact that it kind of sucks that you can’t kiss him anymore. Can’t lean into his chair in the studio to pull him into a hug. Can’t tell him you still love him even if…

Oh. 

Oh. 

Fuck. You still love him?!

“Fine, fine. Since I have a couple more patients on the waitlist, I’m gonna let you off the hook. For now,” Nari grumbles before handing Milana back to you and taking a seat behind her desk. “Just stick to her usual vitamins and diet and she should be fine until the next visit. But if you want the stress problem to go away…”

“Nari,” you groan. “I’m not getting back together with him.”

“Hey, that is not what I was saying,” Nari rebuts with her hands up in surrender. “I was gonna suggest that you just lessen her traveling! Maine Coons are usually really active, but Milana’s a bit of a…homebody, isn’t she? Might not like all that moving around between yours and Vernon’s apartments.”

“But she’s literally with me five days a week. Won’t she have plenty of rest time then?”

“Oh, who am I kidding? Just get back together soon, pretty please?”

Yep. Mingyu’s definitely rubbed off on her.

When you get home later in the afternoon, Milana is quick to slink off to her usual spot behind the sofa to take a nap while you make a beeline for the kitchen. 

It’s always been a post vet visit ritual to get take out to eat at home—even when you and Vernon were still together. However, you opted against the practice for now because not only does it remind you of your ex, but eating all alone in your apartment will only give you more leeway to think about the things Nari told you earlier today.

If you make your own food like you are now, your mind is at least preoccupied enough that you don’t have enough thinking room to even wonder if Vernon even wants you back. 

By the time the sun sets, Milana is still dozing behind the couch and you have a potful of pasta noodles and enough red sauce to last you five days. Another thing that you overlooked whenever you cook inside the house is that you almost always cook enough servings to feed two people. Whether subconsciously or not, you can’t bring yourself to hate how your habits are still attuned to the lifestyle you had three months ago.

Before you and Vernon broke up.

“Work,” you mutter to yourself as you dump some pasta and sauce into a bowl. “If I work, I won’t think about him anymore.”

Not-so wise words from a not-so wise person because newsflash: the time that you and your ex spent in your studio is leagues more than the time you spent together in the bedroom. Vernon has already cleared out his leftover gear from your home office, but memories aren’t something he can pack up and leave with so easily.

You recall quiet afternoons where you’d bounce ideas about their group’s next song off each other—sometimes with Jihoon and Seungcheol connected to a Discord call, but more often in the privacy of each other’s company. 

There were also gloomy days where it rained all day long. Milana would curl up on Vernon’s lap while he played around with the software on your computer—sometimes using the weird sounds she makes as samples to add into the mix along with the soft drizzle pattering against the windowpane.

But it’s even harder to just forget about all the times the two of you came together intimately within the soundproof walls. You can’t even count how many times Vernon has eaten you out while you’re perched on top of your work desk—one hand muffling your moans despite the fact that no one outside the studio can ever hope to hear you. The world is none the wiser when Vernon pulls you onto his lap, bouncing you on his length until he’s spilling into you with gratuitous release.

In the present, there you are in the ear-splitting silence of your studio—the music software your ex bought for you ages ago seemingly glaring at you for spacing out again. You know you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself since it’s easier to come up with the perfect beats when you’ve got a rough draft of the lyrics in front of you—something that Jihoon and Vernon are busy getting done today. 

But still. You can’t help the frustration because you’ve been functioning normally since the breakup. Sitting in the studio didn’t usually lead to you reminiscing about the countless hours you and Vernon spent here together. Making dinner never made you miss having someone to eat across from you at the dining table. 

If only Nari didn’t breathe a word about your ex-boyfriend and all the reasons why you should just get back together. Maybe you would’ve remained rational. Maybe you wouldn’t have started considering things that are beyond your control. 

Maybe you wouldn’t be hoping so badly for something to happen.

You try to distract yourself by listening to and reviewing the mix you’re supposed to hand over to Jihoon today. The visit you planned on making to the company was canceled since neither he nor Vernon were answering their phones, which usually means they’re taking shut-in day seriously for once.

The track continues to stream through the speakers as you munch on your dinner, filling the room with a quiet melody that would make a great ballad once the lyrics are in place. But no matter how good Jihoon’s music is, no matter how delicious your cooking can be, it isn’t enough to quell the thoughts that have been suffocating you all day.

You still…love Vernon. 

If you didn’t, your apartment wouldn’t feel as lonely as it does. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have to feel so awkward whenever you bring Milana to the vet all alone. 

But part of you insists that you’re just being carried away by the ideas that Nari planted in your head. You’ve been doing fine on your own for the past three months. How is today any different?

Your senseless overthinking gets worse before it gets better. 

The next thing you know, you’re scrolling through your gallery, unearthing pictures whose existence you’ve long forgotten about. You’ve spent almost three years with Vernon—two years officially before getting Milana on your second anniversary. Tons of photos were snapped, countless memories created. 

You could’ve snapped more photos, could’ve made more memories if only you hadn’t split up. The fact that (what should’ve been) your third anniversary passed a few weeks ago, stings more than it’s supposed to. That day, Vernon jokingly asked if you wanted to celebrate by your usual spot in the park a few neighborhoods away and you jokingly rejected his offer by saying you had a sitcom to catch up on.

Part of you wishes you accepted the invitation. Maybe the joke could’ve been subverted into something real, and maybe you could’ve been back in his arms by now.

That night, you go to bed with a mild headache and a million thoughts racing through your mind. It isn’t Jihoon’s sad, mellow mix that drones on and on in your head, but a single question that you aren’t sure if you’ll ever get a proper answer to.

How can you still love someone you were so sure that you didn’t anymore?

Come morning, you wake up with a heart that’s heavier than last night and the glaring realization that Milana is missing.

Panicking isn’t usually your first instinct when it comes to your cat. Milana is fairly easy to spot because she’s built more massive than your regular neighborhood felines. But when you’ve already scoured the vicinity for your beloved Maine Coon, it becomes clearer and clearer that she’s nowhere to be found.

You ask around with your neighbors—fairly certain that they know what Milana looks like since she slinks out of the house every now and again. What makes this particular situation worrisome is that she hasn’t come bolting back inside your apartment when you brought out the goddamn catnip. So, when your neighbors begrudgingly tell you that, no, they haven’t seen an oversized house cat prancing around the area, you don’t know what to do.

“Wait, come again?”

“She’s missing, Nari,” you whine into your cell as you nervously bite down on your nails. “I… I was so sure that I locked everything last night, but when I woke up, the front door was wide open and Milana’s just gone.” 

Your friend curses at the other end of the line and from the concerned voices in the background, you figure that you must’ve called at a busy time in the clinic. 

“Sorry for bothering you,” you tell her while choking down a sob. “Just…give me a ring if ever you or Chae see her around the clinic.”

“It’s not a bother at all! I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Nari sighs. “I’ll keep in touch. Oh, but it’s also worth considering that cats like familiar places. If you’re going to look for her, you can start with that.”

“Alright, thank you, Nari.”

After hanging up on her, you bury your face in the palms of your hands—sticky tears matting your skin as you breathe in sharply. You’ve never had to deal with a lost pet before. How the hell are you supposed to find Milana in a city that’s as big as Seoul?

You consider calling the police to file a report, but you’re not sure if pet cats even count for a missing person’s case. They wouldn’t be of any help if it didn’t. The only thing you can do right now is go outside and look for her yourself.

You’re quick to pull on an old sweatshirt you once nabbed from Jihoon before heading out—simultaneously texting every one of your friends about the situation as you scout further out of your neighborhood. Hell, you even contacted the animal shelter you and Vernon adopted Milana from out of sheer desperation.

Thankfully, a handful of them responded right away with a promise that they’ll keep a close eye out for any Maine Coons that surely don’t belong in their areas.

But no matter where you look, you always end up back to square one. It doesn’t help that Milana doesn’t usually wander too far from your apartment, which means that you have no clue where she could’ve possibly gone.

Nari mentioned that cats like familiar places, but the only places that are remotely familiar to Milana are yours and Vernon’s apartments. 

Yours and Vernon’s…

You quickly bolt back to your place—scrambling to your car before fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. A few failed attempts and very loud cursing later, you manage to rev the engine to life. The next thing you know, you’re pulling into the street with an urgency that’s barely beating the speed limit. 

Given that it’s still a weekend, you don’t have to come into work, which means that you have no idea what the boys’ schedule looks like right now. You’re not even sure if Vernon is in the same city, but you’d rather risk the off-chance that he isn’t in Seoul than do nothing. 

You try your best to keep an eye on the road all while dialing up your ex-boyfriend as well as doing your best to obey every Korean traffic law there is. The first call goes straight to voicemail and you would’ve crashed into an SUV that’s idling by a red light if you hadn’t angrily brought down your foot on the brakes. Why the hell isn’t he answering?!

By the time you’ve made it to the street that led to his apartment complex, you’re already shaking with anxiousness. Dozens of uncertainties flit into your mind a million miles per minute. What if he doesn’t know where she is? What if he gets mad at you for losing Milana? Hell, what if he isn’t even here? 

Shoving down all these biting questions, you park haphazardly across the street, locking your car behind you as you jog up to the steps that lead to the entrance. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that the receptionist at the counter still recognizes you—even going as far as flashing you a kind smile and informing you that Vernon is just upstairs. You wordlessly thank her for the tip before jamming a thumb on the elevator buttons. 

You tap your foot impatiently across the marble tiles. Why the hell did Vernon choose to live in a place where you have to use elevators just to get home? Your apartment’s much more accessible especially in times like this when you feel like you’re going to explode with how fucking nervous you are—

The elevator dings when it arrives at the ground floor, making your nerves jump back into focus. You’re completely ready to brush past whoever’s getting out so you can come up to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment faster, but when you meet said ex-boyfriend’s surprised gaze at the mouth of the elevator, your prior urgency comes into a screeching halt.

He’s dressed like he usually is on lazy days—ugly checkered pajama pants, a tour shirt from some Western band that he probably hasn’t listened to a day in his life, and that perpetual bedhead he always sports whenever he just rolled out of bed.  

God, he looks so good. It’s so fucking unfair.

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I was just about to head out and grab breakfast… Uh, make that brunch. Did you need something?”

You don’t even dare to dawdle. “Is Milana with you?”

Vernon cranes his head in confusion and the look makes your heart sink like a stone. “Last I recall, you’re the one who brought her to and from the vet yesterday. Aren’t we missing a couple of chapters here or…?”

You meant to explain the situation as concisely as you possibly can to him. Vernon’s always been an easy going guy. You’re sure that he won’t resent you for it when he finds out that you lost the daughter you’ve been sharing custody over. Even if some irrational part of your brain insists that he will. 

But instead of coherent words, all that comes out of your mouth is a choked up sob.

The curve between Vernon’s neck and shoulder is as comfortable as you recall as you press your face against the crook of it—letting the tears run from your eyes and across his pale skin. You vaguely feel him wrap a protective arm around your frame while his free hand smooths down your hair and it makes you wonder why he’s patient enough to let you cry in his arms despite not having explained what the hell even happened yet.

He’s thoughtful enough to bring you to a more secluded corner of the lobby, calming you down by rubbing soothing shapes on your back with his hand and never letting you stray too far from his embrace. It helps that his low voice is there to keep you grounded—telling you that everything’s going to be fine and you just have to breathe, love. 

It works after a few minutes and Vernon only lets you let go when he’s sure you’re not in danger of suffocating on your own tears anymore.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he murmurs, taking your hand in his. A small gesture that you’re too selfish to resist. “Is it about Lana?”

You nod weakly. “She’s…gone, Vernon. I have no idea where she went, but she’s gone.”

He hums in understanding and surprisingly enough, the understanding glint in his eyes never wavers. It’s a bit off-putting since you expected him to at least be shocked by the news, but it’s almost like he’s used to hearing that your pet cat just ran away. 

“Right. I forgot to tell you about this new habit of hers.” He chuckles with an apologetic smile before one of his hands reaches up to wipe the tears off your cheeks. The close proximity has heat rising to your face, but you’re too stunned to react.

“I read somewhere that it’s good for Maine Coons to wander around to stretch out their limbs. Nari also told me last month that Lana could use the exercise, so whenever she comes over to mine, I let her out without supervision. She eventually finds her way to the lobby and just waits for me to come back if I’m ever running a little late.”

You listen to every word of Vernon’s explanation with a look of disbelief. All this time, you were worried sick about how he’ll react to the news that you lost your cat, but he’s been letting her go out and about when it’s his turn to look after her?

“Then where is she now?” you ask—not bothering to pick a fight with him now of all times.

Vernon hums for a moment as if considering the options and you don’t miss how his fingers tighten around yours when he gives you an answer.

“I might have a good idea.”

When Vernon suggested for you to head to the park just a few minutes away from your apartment as he climbed into the passenger seat, you merely scowled at him. “Milana is afraid of all the dogs that go for walks there. The only dog she isn’t scared of is Namja.” 

“Just trust me,” he insists as you start the car. “Better we look there and find nothing than not look when there turns out to be something.”

His logic isn’t so flawed after all when he briskly leads you down a familiar walkway to an even more familiar location. It’s a small hill that’s got a perfect view of the river nearby. The upslope is lined with plum blossom trees that bloom even more vibrantly in spring and it just so happens that one of those trees is dubbed as yours and Vernon’s usual spot. 

It’s where you and him usually hang out when the air in the studio has gotten a bit too stale to bring forth any sort of output. The outdoors can offer all sorts of inspiration when it comes to writing and producing songs and it’s common practice to make the trip to the usual spot when either of you are suffering from a nasty bout of creativity block. 

And under the shade of the tree in the said usual spot is none other than Milana—curled up in deep slumber as plum blossom petals drift onto her pale brown fur. 

You don’t even feel bad for rudely disturbing her from her comfortable nap, immediately pulling her into an abrupt embrace as you feel the tears welling in your eyes again. Milana lets out a strangled meow—claws straining against your skin with a threat of attack if you don’t knock it off. But you can’t bring yourself to care. You’d gladly use up all the band-aids in the world after she scratches you up if it means you can get to hug her for a few seconds more.

“There she is. All cozy at that.”

Vernon’s smooth voice startles you out of your relief—so overwhelmed to see your cat again that you almost forgot that you had company.

“I told you she’d be here,” he laughs before reaching out to pet her head. “You got us worried though. Don’t go wandering too far, okay, Lana? You scared your mom shitless, you know?” 

Milana responds with a disgruntled noise but you can feel her claws retract nonetheless. Damn Vernon and the fact that he’s obviously the favorite parent…

She seems considerably happier when you deposit her into her father’s arms—nuzzling his chest with a satisfied purr as you and Vernon start to descend the hill. 

But as he showers her with affection, you can’t help but sneak brief glances in your ex-boyfriend’s direction. Vernon has always been easy on the eyes. That’s one of the reasons you were drawn to him in the first place. But whenever you see him like this—laughing goofily as he teases Milana, the high of his cheekbones dusted red with a shower of plum blossoms gliding all over…

The gods are cruel to think you could ever put up a fight.

When Vernon comes over to bring Milana back to your apartment, you don’t expect him to stay for too long. He mentioned on the way that yesterday’s shut-in session was a complete success and that they’ve got all their work cut out for them. All they need is a green light from the higher-ups before Jihoon can start handing the song samples to the company’s usual team of producers—a team that just happens to include you.

So yeah, you don’t expect Vernon to linger because he’s obviously got a lot on his plate. The man hasn’t even had breakfast or brunch or whatever. So when he surprisingly decides to stay and rummages through your fridge for the pasta noodles and red sauce you’ve been saving for tonight, it’s like you never broke up with him at all.

The sight is almost too familiar for you to bear. 

Vernon sitting on the kitchen counter, helping himself to some day-old pasta as his long legs dangled over the edge. Milana watching his feet sway around with keen eyes as she attempts to swipe at them with her claws. Not to mention you, who’s staring at the two of them like they’re the most precious things in the world.

“Hey, this is really good,” Vernon compliments with half his mouth stuffed with noodles. “You’re using that one Italian tomato sauce that I like, right? Man, I missed this a lot.” 

You will yourself to snap out of whatever trance his presence has got you in before walking closer to him with a soft laugh. You lean across the counter, grabbing a fork from the drawer where you keep your silverware to help yourself to some of the pasta that he haphazardly tossed into the microwave. 

“It could’ve been better if you heated the noodles properly in boiling water.” You shake your head. “Then again, you’ve always been impatient when it comes to food.”

“Not as impatient as Seokmin-hyung,” he snickers. “One time when we were still staying back in the dorms, Mingyu-hyung just put the lasagna in the oven but Seokmin-hyung was already yelling about when it’ll be ready to eat. Actually, he always does that even if one of us just pops something in the microwave.”

You shake your head, recalling the words of Nari’s receptionist, Chae. “Men. Always so dramatic.”

Vernon snickers in agreement. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

You fall into conversation with him so easily, it’s almost unreal. When Vernon finishes his food, the two of you eventually migrate to the living room—catching up with each other in a way that you don’t really have the time to whenever he comes over to pick up Milana from your apartment in the past. 

Speaking of Milana, your cat acts as a barrier of sorts between you and Vernon, lying comfortably in the space that the two of you left unfilled. Cuddling up to him on the couch used to be so easy, it’s almost second nature, but now that you’re nothing but co-workers that are friends at best, you’ve got a lot more reservations than you used to have.

“By the way, I’ve been looking everywhere for that sweatshirt,” he muses before pointing at the graphic crewneck you’re wearing. “I thought I lost it in the laundry or that Seungkwan might’ve nabbed it when he came over to my place.” 

“Why is he your first suspect?” you snort. “Also, what are you talking about? This is Jihoon’s.”

Vernon blinks at you, a little confused. “No, that’s mine. Jihoon-hyung must’ve borrowed it from me and let you borrow it after. When did you even get it from him?”

“Um. About a month ago?”

“That explains it then.” 

You roll your eyes. “Look, if you want your sweatshirt back, I can just give it to you.”

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” he insists, one hand drifting onto Milana’s head so he can scratch her ears. “You’ve always looked good in my clothes anyway.”

Silence fills the room almost uncomfortably at how easy it is for him to admit that. The sudden shift in the atmosphere occurs to Vernon a little late and the smile on his face falls when he realizes what he just said.

“Oh, I didn’t… I mean—”

“It’s— It’s okay,” you interject meekly, managing a shy smile as you tug on the sleeves of your—his—sweatshirt. “I always liked wearing your clothes too.”

You’re perfectly aware that you should know how to hold yourself accountable for the things you say. That goes the same for Vernon. So when the two of you willingly let the other hear such controversial things that co-workers-slash-friends probably shouldn’t be saying to each other, you’re not sure what to make of the situation. 

Are you reading him wrong? Or is he actually reciprocating your misplaced longing, no matter how subtle? It’s always been hard to tell with Vernon, who’s never straightforward with what he wants to communicate. Always trusting that you would understand the nuance of his every action, his every word, when all they do is make your head spin.

The sight is perfectly domestic—lounging comfortably on the sofa after a good meal, both of your feet kicked up on the coffee table, and your big baby daughter purring quietly from where she lies between the two of you. 

But even if three months doesn’t seem like a whole lot, it’s enough time for some…due changes to eventually set. 

“You know…” Vernon starts, sucking in a deep breath almost like he’s nervous.

“Do I know what?” 

His eyes flicker over to the ceiling as if praying for some sort of deliverance before forcing himself to meet your gaze again. There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t parse right away, and you wonder if you can ever understand what it is. 

“I… I still listen to that old mixtape you gave me. Do you remember? The one you gave to me when we first met?” he murmurs quietly, bringing his hands onto his lap so he can twiddle with his thumbs. “Before we have to come up on stage and I start feeling nervous, I just listen to a softcopy of that mixtape on my phone. I still do now.”

That mixtape… He still has that? Moreover, he managed to save a softcopy and downloaded it onto his phone? You would’ve asked him how on earth he managed to do that, if you weren’t so startled about his sudden revelation.

“Your voice always gives me strength. Even when we weren’t together yet—even if we’re not together anymore.” Vernon purses his lips, a sad look eclipsing the sincerity in his eyes as he strokes Milana’s fur thoughtfully. “So I’m really sorry if you think I’m overstaying my welcome today. I definitely am. But I just— I just wanted to be selfish for once.I wanted to spend a little more time with you because I know you’ll go back to distancing yourself from me once I leave.”

When he turns to face you, you know it’s the real deal. There’s a spark of determination in his eyes that scares you a little—like he’s about to say something you’re not ready to hear yet regardless of how badly you want to. 

But before he can get a chance to utter the words, your phone starts ringing on the coffee table. You’ve never swooped in to answer a call so quickly in your life.

“Hello, what’s up?” You nearly cringe at how bubbly your voice sounds as you get up from the couch.

“Hey, have you found Milana?” Nari’s voice flows into your ear, genuine concern lacing each word. “I asked Mingyu to look around with Namja, but no dice. I could contact some other friends if you—”

“It’s okay, Nari,” you interject, fingers drumming across your thigh. “We already found her.”

Your friend makes a curious noise. “Who’s we?” 

You nearly balk when Vernon plucks the phone out of your hands, pressing it to his ear with a smug grin that you don’t usually see him wear.

“Who else?” he says. “Thanks for checking in, Nari. But we’re kind of…busy.” 

The call isn’t even on loudspeaker but you can obviously hear the way Nari gasps like Vernon just unveiled some scandalous secret. “Oh my god. Are you—”

Vernon ends the call before tossing your phone back onto the couch, startling Milana out of her nap. Your cat flashes Vernon something similar to a dirty look before hopping off the cushions and sauntering off elsewhere. You just hope she doesn’t retaliate by wandering outside again.

But your cat’s newest penchant for wandering around is the last thing on your mind because even if you’re not facing him, you can sense Vernon’s towering presence directly behind you.

You don’t resist when he hugs you from behind—resting his forehead against your shoulder as he breathes out a shuddering sigh. His arms still feel like home despite being months into the breakup and you don’t know how to fucking deal with it.

“I still love you. Never stopped,” he whispers. “It was…completely stupid of me to think we’re better off as friends just because we’re coworkers. You’re too important to me. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to—”

You don’t even give him leeway to finish that sentence, whirling around in his embrace as you meet his lips in a quiet kiss.

In a split second, several things happen at once. Dying stars collide. Black holes collapse. Eternities unspool. 

And you start to realize that you can’t live without Vernon Chwe.

“Shit, Hansol, please.”

Vernon loves how his other name falls so gracefully from your lips—loves how you frame the words in such an…interesting way. You only ever call him that when you’re feeling particularly strong emotions—happiness, anger, disappointment…

Pleasure.

He heaves a long sigh as he peels himself away from the home he’s made between your thighs. You’re not sure how long Vernon has been eating you out, but your brain is close to melting and you can’t process any other coherent thoughts aside from how your cunt still tingles from the orgasm he just gave you. 

Your panties have long been discarded on the bedroom floor. All you’re donned with now is the old sweatshirt that you thought belonged to Jihoon but turns out was Vernon’s property all along. He insisted that you keep it on—emphasizing just how much he likes seeing you in his clothes before promptly robbing you of your capacity to think by eating pussy like it was his life’s purpose.

It doesn’t help that he looks so fucking delectable between your legs—big hands splayed across the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he looks up at you with a dazed expression. His lips are parted, still glossy from the aftermath of your release and the look in his eyes almost makes it seem like he’s the one who’s just been eaten out to completion.

“Fuck, ‘Sol,” you whimper, head falling back onto the pillows as you shield your eyes with your arm. You can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re about to combust. “Stop staring at me like that…”

Vernon leans down to pry your arm off your face—forcing you to meet his loving gaze before pressing your arm down onto the mattress.

“Like what?” he whispers, the blunt of his nail scraping against your bottom lip. 

“Like you want to swallow me whole.”

His eyes almost crinkle with how wide he smiles at you and you nearly writhe with anticipation when you feel his drenched fingers prodding your slicked entrance again. 

“What if I tell you that’s exactly what I want?”

Vernon’s mouth is on yours before you can even breathe, tongue bullying its way past your lips as he licks into your mouth. He slips the digits he used to tease you back into your wet channel and you delight in how he swallows your moans as he pumps them inside at a languid pace. Vernon has always been good at building your release from the ground up—never one to rush any orgasms he’s willing to give. As long as you feel good, he’ll exercise as much patience as he can.

“V-Vernon,” you gasp when he curls his fingers and thumbs at your clit at the same time, flicking your sensitive bud with just the right amount of pleasure that has your toes curling with pleasure. “Fuck, please, please—”

“Sounds so good for me,” he sighs, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before giving a delicious tug. “Wanna record all your pretty noises and use it in a song. D’you want that too, love? Want everyone to hear how nice you sound?”

The idea of him using your voice in the throes of pleasure for such a mundane thing sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You moan in reply, rubbing your needy cunt against his hand in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. Vernon chuckles against your lips and his teasing almost makes you pout, if only he isn’t so fucking good at finding your g-spot.

The first time he makes you come, it’s with his mouth and the second is after he expertly picks you apart with his fingers. But no matter how well Vernon knows your body, you still think it’s fucking unfair for him to coax orgasm after orgasm from you like it’s as easy as breathing.

“Hansol,” you whisper—brain too fucked out to segreget his two names properly. “Want you inside me. Want all of you.”

He shakes his head with an audible tut, slipping his fingers out of your pulsing hole. The action makes you mewl in protest, but Vernon brings those same fingers to your lips to silence you. 

“You have to work on your patience, love,” he murmurs, angling his face a little before his lips descend onto your neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve had you like this… I want to savor you. You’ll let me do that, right?”

All you can do is answer him with a helpless nod.

His sweatshirt is off in a split second, revealing your body to him in a way that makes you want to hide underneath the covers. He gazes at you so intensely, it makes you wonder how someone you broke up with three months ago still looks at you like it's the first time.

Vernon writes poetry onto your skin with each caress of his lips, making sure you feel everything he’s doing to you as he leaves no inch of your body untouched. Sex with him has always been intense, not because he likes to fuck hard and fast but because he likes to take his time—to sink himself into your skin deep enough that you can’t ever hope to flush him out of your system. 

That’s probably one of the reasons why you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop loving him. He’s become such a fundamental part of your life that living without him is the same as breathing without oxygen. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips latch onto your breasts. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Vernon isn’t a man of many words. You’ve come to know this for a fact, so whenever he spills all these compliments for you to hear, it makes your heart swell inside your chest. A handful of other people have called you that in the past, but when the words come from Vernon’s mouth, it feels like the gospel truth.

Fortunately, your lover was never too cruel to you. Sure, he likes to instill the value of patience, but Vernon never found the appeal of bringing your partner to tears because of their unquenchable need for release.

He doesn’t even make you beg for his cock. Vernon simply lines up the tip with your swollen entrance before slowly pushing inside—dark eyes cognizant of every shift in your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. When all he sees is you whimpering from how good it feels to be split open by his cock, he knows he’s doing it right.

“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly—hoping the words won’t be lost in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure. “I’m so in love with you.”

He ploughs you into the mattress slowly, deeply, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock as he fucks into you. Vernon is rarely vocal with his words when it comes to sex, but he makes up for it with the pleasurable sounds that escape his lips. And with how long it’s been since the two of you lied together like this, you wouldn’t blame him for feeling more unhinged than usual.

“I love you, too, ‘Sol,” you sigh but the words are eclipsed with a high-pitched keen when he amps up the pace of his thrusts. 

“I love hearing you say that,” Vernon groans, biting his lip until he can taste iron on his tongue. 

“Then I’ll keep saying it.” It’s a miracle how you manage to get the words out when he’s quite literally punching the breath out of your lungs with each stroke. “I’ll say I love you while you’re fucking me. I’ll say I love you even when you’re not.”

“I’ll say it all the time if it means you’ll come back to me.”

For a moment, the intense pace he’s set falters—eyes wide and mouth agape. You worry that you must’ve said something out of turn, but Vernon proves you wrong by pulling you forward into a tight embrace, fucking up into your tight cunt with a kind of vigor that you never would’ve associated with someone as easy going as he is.

“I’m yours, love.” he rasps against your neck, teeth grazing the skin just above the thrum of your pulse. “I’ll always be yours.”

The sudden switch in positions and the sincerity of his words is what pushes you over the edge a third time—making you cling onto Vernon like a lifeline as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. You can tell that he’s close. His strokes are more erratic, more frantic. Now that he’s brought you to the pinnacle, he doesn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t make it to that same paradise too.

When he comes, it’s a burst of white hot pleasure that singes through every single nerve ending in Vernon’s brain. You let out such an adorable little whimper as his cum coats your insides in generous spurts, filling you to the brim with his emission with the full intention of keeping it inside you for days.

But as much as he loves entertaining the idea of defiling you until everyone in the world knows you belong to him… 

He’s always put great importance in the art of aftercare.

Both of you try very hard to ignore Milana’s judgemental stare as Vernon carries you to the bathroom—propping you up on the toilet cover first as he draws a warm bath. But from the way she dismissively leaves the two of you to your own devices after a few minutes, you like to think that you’ve gotten her seal of approval.

Your no-longer-ex-boyfriend gently lays you into the tub with him, reaching out for the soap on one of your toiletry holders as he massages you everywhere you’re sore. You let out a satisfied sigh before resting the back of your head against his firm shoulder.

“How’re you going to explain to the higher-ups that you’re dating one of their producers again?” you chuckle, placing your hand on top of his as he continues to clean you up. “Maybe I should just find a job somewhere else. A place where it isn’t illegal to have an idol as a boyfriend.”

“Maybe,” he muses before placing a firm kiss on your temple. “But whatever happens, I know I’ll always stick by you no matter what.”

You turn around, arching an eyebrow at him. “Even if it’ll cost you your job?” 

You completely expect him to backtrack a little. Vernon is obsessed with you—you get that. But probably not to a point where he’s willing to breach the company’s contract just to keep being with you, right? 

But for some reason, it sounds so fucking easy for him to say it when he whispers:

“Even if it’ll cost me my job.”

⟢ end notes: this is probably the sweetest thing i've ever written bc i personally headcanon vernon as someone who loves his s/o so deeply, it consumes him (like in a good way yk). i had so much fun writing this (esp since i got to sneak in vet!reader from again and again under the name nari hehe) so i rly hope you enjoyed it! do look forward to the last part of this series, which will feature resident catboy jeon wonwoo <3

this is part of the doting on you! series.