#spontaneous-declaration

[variousqueerthings]

reading a book rn called "the other olympians" and lemme tell you, i knew that women's sport was segregated because of misogyny and i knew there was always a fear of women being "too masculine" by participating in sports and that this was wrapped up in intersexism and racism but. the extent. to which this was embedded from the olympics earliest days (that is, utterly and completely).

trust that the issue has never been and never will be a trans woman who's good at swimming, or shotput, or running, or anything else, she's a handy dandy scapegoat. it's always been about diminishing women's capabilities and access by denying women who are too good at sport the right to be a woman in the first place. because a woman who is too good at anything has lost the right to be a woman. and by that i mean she's lost the right to be a human being.

[wandraart]

all kitties should be petted, said arlecchino.

[typicalmicky]

greatly GREATLY appreciate that they held off on the OFMD promo until at least some of the gomens fervour had died down I think I would have had a collapse if I had to go through both simultaneously

[bookshopsbizarreblog]

@the-pineapple-stole-my-husband me @ you constantly

just pass him the fucking hammer stone

[mahgyu]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 ──── 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Nanami is meticulous, and that extends to post-sex care. He always makes sure you're comfortable, clean, and relaxed before anything else. If it was an intense night, he prepares a warm bath for both of you, cleaning you with patience and dedication. If it was something more spontaneous, he keeps you nestled against his chest, stroking your skin until your breathing steadies. His touch is firm but full of care.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

On his own body, he appreciates his hands. Firm, large, experienced—capable of gripping your waist with ease, pressing against your throat just right, and tracing safe paths over your skin. On you, he has a fixation on your neck and the curve of your hips. He loves holding, biting, and marking those spots, watching how your skin reacts to his touch.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Nanami is organized and rational, but when it comes to coming on you, he transforms. His desire to see your skin smeared with his cum is almost possessive. If it’s inside, he makes sure to keep you filled for a while, pressing his fingers against your entrance just to ensure nothing spills. If it’s outside, he loves seeing your face messy, your breasts covered—he doesn’t talk much about it, but his intense gaze says it all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has touched himself countless times in his office thinking about you. On the most stressful days, when the routine wears him down and his mind drifts to the last moment you had together, he locks himself in the bathroom or leans back in his chair, loosening his tie as he gets off remembering how you moaned his name.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

Before you, Nanami didn’t have many relationships to build his own experience, but there was nothing he couldn’t learn from you. And so, he memorized every weak spot of yours, every response your body gives to the slightest stimulus. He likes to learn in the process, absorbing your responses and adjusting his approach to maximize pleasure. When he fucks, he fucks with precision.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary is a classic for him—because it allows control, eye contact, and depth. But he also loves having you on your stomach, his hand on the back of your neck, keeping you exactly where he wants. He enjoys when you ride him, but only if he can guide your movements with his firm hands on your waist.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nanami doesn’t laugh much during sex. He takes the moment seriously, focused on every sensation and response. But sometimes, when you tease him or when something unexpected happens, he lets out a low, murmured chuckle against your skin. The most fun he allows is dry sarcasm when you try to challenge him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Nanami exudes intimacy without needing excessive declarations. The way he holds your face as he moves inside you, the way he whispers your name against your mouth between deep kisses—everything about him screams connection. He doesn’t just fuck for the sake of fucking; he owns you in every thrust.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He prefers to hold back for you, but when he's away or extremely frustrated, he jerks off in the most methodical way possible. He leans against a wall, eyes closed, his hand slow and firm around his cock, imagining how it would feel to have your mouth on him at that moment.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Control. Nanami likes being in charge, dictating the pace and making you submit to him. Subtle restraints, silent dominance, and dirty praise are part of his repertoire. He also has a slight fetish for lace and sheer lingerie.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed is the basic choice, but Nanami isn’t limited to that. His office has been the scene of a few transgressions, as well as the shower, where he can fuck you against the tiles with water running down your bodies.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You, pure and simple. Your scent, your voice, the way your gaze gets heavy when you desire him. If you ask, if you tease, if you surrender—he can’t resist.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He would never do anything that could truly hurt you. Severe humiliation, harsh words, or extreme violence are not part of the game. He dominates you with precision.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Nanami prefers giving rather than receiving. He treats oral sex like an art—precise, dedicated, endless. He sucks your clit with expertise, pushes his tongue deep inside you until your legs tremble.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Firm and calculated. He likes to maintain control, keeping a rhythm that builds tension to the limit. But if he’s particularly desperate, he can be brutal.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn’t a fan of rushing, but when necessary, he makes every second count. A hurried encounter in the car, in a bathroom at an event, in the middle of the night when he needs you now.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s discreet but loves subtle danger. Doing something where you might get caught, but in a calculated way. A bold touch under the restaurant table, a hand sliding between your thighs at the movies.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can last through long rounds without losing breath. Nanami isn’t the type to be satisfied quickly—he wants to make sure you’re wrecked with pleasure before he is.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t use them on himself, but he has no problem using them on you. Vibrators are his favorite, especially when he holds them while fucking you, just to see you lose your mind.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be cruel with teasing. He loves keeping you on the edge, denying orgasms just to hear you beg. Pleasure only comes when he decides.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t overly loud, but he groans low and rough in your ear. Every ragged breath of his is pure gold.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves morning sex, in the laziest and most delicious way possible. No rush, just you riding him while he savors every inch of you, his hands sliding over your body as if he’s discovering you for the first time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He pretends to have control, but his need for you is raw. He desires you all the time and knows exactly how to hide it until the right moment.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He takes a while to sleep. He spends time watching you, feeling your scent on his skin, the weight of your body against his. And only then, with one last kiss on your forehead, does he close his eyes.

After a long time of leaving this blog inactive, I decided to come back.

I'm a bit rusty in writing, so please ignore any possible mistakes. Kisses babes <3

©mahgyu | I do not allow adaptations, translations, or copies of my work.

[sentryisbbygirl]

JAMES NORRINGTON DESERVES THE WORLD

[invincibledc]

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐒!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★synopsis: a simple discussion with the batfamily ends with memories spurring in your head.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★genre: fluff

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★info: this OC is an OC I’m written for my own amusement. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. I got bored. Reader is the twin sister of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome.

⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ word count: 1,342

“We have to talk about your certain relationship with.. the son of joker.” Bruce says while he faces you. You felt nervous as you had your faces clamped together. But you pulled a poker face, simply nodding.

“What’s your relationship with him.”

“Well, I would say that we’re—”

MEMORY 1.

Jack was balanced precariously in a handstand, his lithe form showcasing a hint of the muscle definition he had been developing. His face, painted with wild colors, radiated mischief and playfulness as he grinned upside down. “So, puddin’, think we could sneak away from your little colony and grab some grub? I’m starving,” he whined dramatically, a playful pout forming on his lips.

You sighed, knowing he was spot on about the hunger gnawing at your own stomach, but the thought of abandoning your duty to patrol Gotham sent a pang of unease through you. The weight of your responsibilities pressed heavy on your shoulders.

“I can’t. I’m on patrol. And shouldn’t you be with your crazed father?” you replied tersely, lowering the binoculars from your eyes to meet his gaze. Jack, ever the bundle of energy, flipped out of his handstand and landed deftly on his feet. He stretched his arms behind his back, feigning innocence.

“Nahhh... My old man’s out cold like a baby. And my ma’s off having a girl’s night with Aunt Ivy. So here I am,” he declared, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling against your neck with surprising tenderness. “Just me and my darling, my cute little bird.”

His words, though playful, carried a warmth that made it hard to resist his charm. In that moment, the chaotic world of Gotham faded slightly, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of mischief and youthful affection.

MEMORY 2.

Out of everything—heroes, villains, and the chaos that comes with them—Jack lay sprawled in your room. His tousled blonde hair framed his face, and his simple blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Clad only in gray sweatpants, he was the picture of relaxed spontaneity. His slightly tanned skin contrasted with your [color] complexion, creating a juxtaposition of warmth and coolness as you both lounged on the bed. You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful that you and Damian no longer had to share a room like you did when you were young.

Jack propped himself up on one elbow, revealing that goofy grin you couldn't help but find charming. “I can’t believe my girl—who isn’t mine—is letting me crash here,” he said with a boyish spark in his eyes. Despite the obsession he harbored for you, the night felt blissfully laid-back, a rare moment of peace in a world filled with so much tension.

As you continued to weave your fingers through his messy locks, you remarked, “You know, you could try being your civilized self and meet my family instead of sneaking into my room with a bag of clothes for what seems like a sleepover. And by the way, I’m getting pretty squished here.” You inhaled deeply, your words tumbling out in one breath. Jack feigned annoyance, his pout playful. “Oh, come on, puddin’, that’s boring! Where’s the thrill in sneaking into my future wife’s house to just chill with her?”

Your heart raced at the unexpected title he casually tossed your way. “Jack, what??!!” you stammered, caught off guard by his bold claim.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” He looked genuinely perplexed, scratching his head in a manner that showed his typical carefree nature. You struggled to respond, your shock momentarily robbing you of your voice.

“Eh, whatever,” he shrugged, a grin spreading across his face as he declared, “I’m gonna grab some water.” He hopped off the bed and, as he exited your room, he caught sight of Jason strolling through the hall, engrossed in the pages of a book. Time slowed as Jack froze, and then, thinking quickly, he launched himself over the stair railing, expertly grabbing onto a chandelier for balance. His heart raced as he spun mid-air, landing seamlessly on the couch below with a triumphant flair before dashing to the kitchen like a ninja on a mission.

Jason’s sharp eyes narrowed, instantly suspicious of the antics unfolding in the house. He knew something was amiss.

In the kitchen, Jack filled a glass with water and chugged it rapidly, desperately hoping to evade any unwanted company. But, in a cruel twist of fate, as he drained the last drop, the overhead lights flicked on, illuminating the space. There, framed in the doorway, stood Jason Todd—also known as the second Robin, and now, the formidable Red Hood.

“You!” Jason bellowed, his finger jabbing menacingly at Jack.

“Me!” Jack replied with an impish grin, pointing to himself as his instincts kicked in. Without a moment of hesitation, he bolted past Jason, laughter spilling from his lips like the joy of a child who had just escaped capture.

The chase began, and Jason pursued Jack with an intensity akin to an enraged bear, all the while Jack couldn’t help but cackle in delight. He darted back into your room, where your eyes widened in surprise. Without missing a beat, Jack gathered his belongings in a flurry, leaning down to plant a quick kiss on your cheek, leaving you breathless.

“Don’t wait up!” he shouted cheerfully, diving out the window with the agility of a circus performer. He executed a graceful barrel roll before calling out, “Bye, babe!”

In the wake of his departure, you could only raise a bemused eyebrow. But before you could fully process what had just transpired, Jason leaped after him, both boys sailing out into the night in a chaotic blend of laughter and shouts, leaving you in stunned silence.

MEMORY 3.

“Honestly, why can’t you just be called Batgirl or something straightforward? I mean, it feels a bit off being just another ‘Robin,’ especially when your twin brother is Robin too. What’s the point of that?” the clown boy remarks, tying up some goons who tried to mess with some women

You weren't even with him; you were at home, focused on your homework and not even thinking about patrolling. You kept humming, grateful for him handling your dirty work.

“So what do I get in return for this?” Jack asks, fiddling with his green and purple phone case while the tied-up goons try to protest through clown noses. “How about we hang out on the weekend when everyone’s busy?” you suggest, tapping your pencil against your notebook filled with history notes. Jack’s enthusiasm is heard on the other end of the line.

“That sounds amazing, sugar. Can we grab some batburgers too?” He says, smiling as you reach for your phone. You chuckled. “Absolutely,” you respond confidently. Jack practically bounces with excitement, despite the bemused expressions from the goons. “Awesome!”

You and Jack stay on the phone, and while he serves as your backup during patrols, he’s more than up for the task. You might not want to feel like you’re using him, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest. The dynamic between you two is unconventional, but at least you’ve got each other’s backs.

“We’re nothing but enemies, honestly why wouldn’t we.”

Your brothers gave a clear expression that they weren’t falling for it.

“Okay then tell us why in the world is that goblin out there with a sign saying in quote, ‘let’s go out later’.” Jason says with knitted brows.

“Wait for real?!” You got up quickly to look outside, and there was no one. Turning back to glare at Jason, Jason held a smug grin on his face.

“Gotcha.”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle before remaining stoic. “I would like to say as well that you’re grounded for sneaking out.”

“What?! How did you find out.” Pouting, you sat back at the table.

“Damian told me.”

“DAMIAN!?”

Damian drank his tea elegantly despite his messy self. “I can’t have my little sister dating some sociopath.”

“Oh shut up, I’m not buying you anymore cool and smooth paper to draw on.” Damian almost spits his tea out, scrambling to follow you as you walked upstairs.

“Wait! Sister, maybe we can rearrange some things!”

[ckret2]

The venn diagram overlap between the conversation Ford's having and the conversation Bill's having is nearly nonexistent.

drink responsibly

[frownyalfred]

"I'm gonna fuck your mom" "I'm going to get my adoptive billionaire dad to sleep with both of your parents and they're both going to fall in love with him and write you out of their will, fuckhead."

(Schoolyard threat from an unknown Wayne child, provided to the Gazette in March 2013. Bruce Wayne, responding via email, denied all allegations of an improper relationship and declared it "entirely spontaneous and consensual."

Mr. and Mrs. [redacted] could not be reached for comment, but court records indicate that Mr. [redacted] began divorce proceedings in April of 2013.)

[sillyswriting]

: ̗̀➛ husband john price - 03

cw : angst, miscarriage, reader is on the chubby side

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤcollection - prev ⋆ next

as john sat in the middle of his living room, his head in his hands, he thought about everything that had turned to shit in the last few weeks. he was tired, his body exhausted from the deployment, the stress… the heartache. he couldn't go to bed—not when you wouldn’t let him comfort you as you cried. it was too much.

when he arrived on base, he went straight to his superior's office and told them he wanted to accept the desk job. no more deployments for him. he explained that, subconsciously, he had been training simon to take his place—he knew his lieutenant was ready. after hours of negotiations, they had finally accepted. now, he had to tell his team.

over the years together, task force 141 had developed a deep bond. john loved his boys, but he had other little boys waiting for him at home. he knew they wouldn’t be thrilled with his decision, but they’d understand.

to say they had been shocked would be an understatement. they knew john was getting old, but this was sudden. he had never really expressed any desire to leave the field. simon even went as far as asking if his wife had put him up to this, to which john just laughed, telling them you didn’t even know. it was going to be his little surprise when he came home. he also told them about the new baby. they had been excited about the news.

"tryin’ tae build a whole fitba team there, captain? poor missus cannae catch a break wi’ a bear like you," johnny had said, hugging his captain over the good news. john had received a pat on the back from simon and another embrace from kyle. he was going to miss them.

"let's go out with a bang then, captain, yeah?" kyle had said. one last assignment, then he’d be home for good, right?

how could he have thought it would be this easy?

their intel had been a setup, leading them straight into a trap. chaos ensued—the team was split up, communications were cut, and they were deep in enemy territory. they were being hunted. what should've been a quick extraction turned into three weeks of survival. john had been on his own. he'd seen simon dragging an injured kyle, and that gave him hope they were still alive. he'd prayed johnny had made it out too.

what john hadn’t known was that the rest of his team had made it back within days. no word from their captain for weeks, and the higher-ups had been forced to declare him missing in action. mia. three words that sent a chill through every soldier's spine. sometimes, being dead was easier. after the shitshow that went down, command had strictly prohibited any attempts to mount a rescue.

that was why you had opened the door to three men one morning. you had never met them, but you knew. they didn’t need to say a word. if it hadn’t been for simon’s reflexes, you would’ve dropped to the floor, hard. small pattering feet made their way to the front door, drawn by their mom’s sobs. johnny had rushed to them, telling them he was a friend of their father. pulling them outside to play, he reassured them everything was okay. they were too small to notice the tears in his eyes as he gently guided them out.

simon had dropped to the floor, you still in his arms. he wasn’t one for physical touch, but after john’s disappearance, he had needed comfort too. he had never been more grateful for his balaclava than that day. kyle stood in the entryway, quietly letting the tears fall down his cheeks. he had been the one to notice.

blood, running down your thighs.

everything had been a blur to you. one moment, you were happy at home with your children, and the next, your life had completely fallen apart. alone in the room, you had barely listened when the doctor explained that your baby was gone. you had had a "spontaneous abortion, induced by a significant physiological or emotional stress event."

at least your baby was with their father.

at the same time, your husband had returned from the dead. after long weeks of running and hiding, he had found an old radio and fixed it up. he had cried upon hearing laura's voice from communications. a few hours later, he was back on base.

he had been rushed to the med bay—tired, malnourished, with some wounds still healing—but he was home. he asked about his team.

"yeah, they made it home, captain. we were all waiting for you," the sweet nurse had told him before he closed his eyes.

when he opened his eyes again, he was still in the med bay, but kyle was there. the sergeant had a small smile on his face, and john could see tears filling his eyes—just as there were surely tears in his own. he asked about the others, and kyle reassured him that they were all okay. after years together, john knew there was something else. kyle took a deep breath, and then he spoke.

"it's your wife, captain."

that's how he ended up here. on his couch, in the middle of the night. aside from your heartbreaking sobs, the house was quiet. your children were with their grandparents; john hadn’t seen them yet. he had been told that they didn’t know their dad was missing—they just thought their mum was sick and needed to be left alone.

sighing, john made his way toward his bedroom when he could no longer hear your crying. maybe you had fallen asleep. you both had come home today. you’d been told john was alive and well while you stayed in the hospital for a few days. you knew your anger was unjustified, but you just couldn’t move past it. your mind was playing tricks on you: if john hadn’t been away, your baby would still be safe and warm in your belly. deep down, you knew it was wrong to think like that, but you were heartbroken and didn’t know any better.

you stilled when you heard the bedroom door open. the last time he tried to comfort you, you had screamed terrible things at him—things you regretted, but it was too late. as he got closer to the bed, you realized you were longing for his embrace. just to feel him close, his arms around you. so when he got into bed and reached for you, you let him.

you let him pull you toward his body, even though it wasn’t your husband’s body. not the one you knew. he had lost so much weight; it had been years since he’d been this skinny. you hated it. it reminded you of all the things that had happened, all the things he had been through to come back home. you started crying again. the feeling of his arms tightening around you only fueled your sadness. you had been so cruel to him, but yet, here he was.

"shh, my love," john whispered softly, tears of his own running silently down his cheeks. "i promise everything is gonna be alright." if you hadn't been with him for so long, you would have missed the hurt in his voice. more tears streamed down your face.

you had both lost so much, but you trusted him with your entire body and soul. he promised everything was going to be alright, and you believed him.

[orangesaek]

'choose me, PLEASE' | simp Haechan

summary: Haechan’s entire brain rewired after that single sentence sweet, shy, innocent Jisung oh-so nonchalantly said while eating a burger, and now? He’s on a mission.

this story is the sequel of:

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ ‘choose me’ (wc: 0.8k) ʕ •ᴥ• ʔ ♡

pairings: haechan x afab!reader┊genre: fluff (with a sprinkle of comedy), hc is a hard simp who values consent & is patient┊wc: 2.8k┊cw: minimal cursing/swearing

a/n: thank u to the anon who motivated me to write this sequel 🫶

Lee Donghyuck, also known to the general public as Haechan, menace, chaotic but charming pos, vocal king, and professional yapper, was many things.

But above all?

He was head-over-heels, irrevocably, unapologetically, pathetically in love with you.

And damn, did everyone know it.

“You’ve literally been smiling at your phone for the past ten minutes,” Mark muttered, balancing a chopstick between his upper lip and nose for some unknown reason.

Haechan didn’t even look up.

“Can you blame me? She asked me out. ME! I was the chosen one.”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “You act like you didn’t spend months soft-launching her in every Instagram story and thirsting in her DMs.”

“Exactly! And all that hard work paid off,” Haechan declared, holding his heart like a Disney Princess who just found true love.

“This isn’t just a win for me. This is a win for all persistent, chaotic men out there.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Chenle snorted.

“Let him be,” Jaemin grinned. “He’s fucking in love.”

And yeah, he really fucking was.

After months of him yapping at you in hallways, showing up with your favorite drinks unannounced, and turning every conversation into a chance to make you laugh, you had reached out first for a date.

Haechan had been spinning since.

But he wasn’t blind. He knew your reputation very well.

People liked to talk. “Tinder girl” or “serial swiper”, as many people call you. And while it bugged him sometimes, he never said anything.

He liked you for you. Every unbothered, clever, sarcastic, onion-loving bit of you.

But then Jisung—sweet, shy, innocent Park Jisung who had zero idea what kind of bomb he was dropping—uttered a single sentence that rewired Haechan’s entire brain.

“Did you know she deleted Tinder.”

Haechan stared at Jisung like he had just grown a second head like the mythical creatures you two often talked about. 

“What?”

“She deleted Tinder,” Jisung repeated, mid-bite of his burger.

“Said she’s not interested in dating around anymore, just seeing where it goes now with you.” he added, nonchalantly.

A hush fell over the lunch table.

Mark choked on his rice.

Chenle gasped so loudly, an old lady at the next table turned to look.

Jaemin screamed into a napkin.

Renjun and Jeno stared at Haechan like he was about to spontaneously combust.

And he kind of did.

“She deleted Tinder…” Haechan repeated, eyes wide. “For me???”

Jisung shrugged as he took another bite of his burger.

“I guess so.”

It was at that moment that Haechan knew he needed to step up his game. Again.

Not to win you over, though. You were already on your way to being his.

But to show you that he noticed.

That he cared about every little thing.

Your likes, your dislikes. Your stress levels, your bad back, your caffeine dependency, your hatred of soggy onions.

ALL of it.

So when he heard you were skipping lunch to prep for the university festival?

He rallied the squad.

You were sweating, covered in paint, and very close to committing minor arson when you heard it.

“Y/N!”

You turned around mid-rant after some freshman had dropped a whole box of flyers and froze.

Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung were all standing in the middle of the hallway, looking way too clean and composed to be real.

“What the hell?”

“We’re here to help,” Mark said casually, already rolling up his sleeves.

“Are you serious? Why?”

“Because we like you,” Jaemin said with a wink.

“Because you clearly need it,” Renjun added, stepping over a paintbrush.

“Also because Haechan threatened us,” Jeno deadpanned.

“Where is Haechan?” you asked, suspicious.

“He’ll be here,” Chenle grinned. “Had to pick something up.”

You narrowed your eyes but didn’t argue. You were too tired, and honestly, you needed the help.

But of course, nothing was ever simple when the boys were around.

Because within five minutes, a group of university girls (probably from the next booth over) had started coming over where you were. Smiling, twirling their hair, leaning in to 'ask for help'.

“Hey, can you help me lift this? You look so strong,” one of them purred at Jeno.

“Uh… I have a girlfriend.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Chenle whispered. Jeno elbowed him in the ribs.

“Renjun, by any chance, are you single?” another girl asked, practically batting her eyelashes. Renjun didn’t even look up.

“Emotionally unavailable.”

“Hi, what’s your name?” someone tried with Jaemin.

“Sorry, I’m in love with someone else,” he said brightly, then muttered, “Who I haven’t even met yet, but I’m manifesting.”

But then the worst one turned to Haechan, who had just arrived—sweaty, breathless, arms holding a large paper bag.

“Hey, Haechan. I was wondering if we can go on a date after the festival?”

He didn’t miss a beat.

“No, I'm taken. Very taken. Stupidly, pathetically taken.”

The girl scoffed. “Oh, you serious?”

“Yeah. Serious enough that I’d reject you in this life, the next one, and every damn lifetime I get after that,” Haechan said, not even sparing her a glance as he pushed past.

He made a beeline for you.

“Did you think I’d let you starve again?”

You turned, surprised, as he dropped a paper bag in front of you.

Inside was your favorite food—with extra onions, just the way you liked it. Your go-to dessert and coffee from that café a good thirty-minute walk away. Energy drinks, and pain relief patches.

“For your back,” he added, holding them up proudly.

“Because I know it acts up when you’re stressed.”

You stared at him, the noise around you fading in the background.

“What the fuck,” you whispered. “How do you remember all this?”

He just grinned, boyish and cocky and painfully attractive.

“I just do.”

Hours later, when the festival prep was done and the guys had retreated to their dorms, Haechan found himself on your couch, legs tucked up, phone discarded somewhere.

“You wanna eat dinner?” he asked casually.

“I’m too tired to chew,” you groaned from where you were face-down in a pillow.

He clicked his tongue. “You can’t sleep on an empty stomach.”

“You gonna force-feed me?”

“I’m gonna cook for you, actually.”

“You can cook???”

“I can cook ramen,” he said, rummaging through your empty fridge and pathetic excuse of a pantry. 

“You need to go grocery shopping.”

“No time.”

“We’ll go together this weekend.”

You didn’t argue.

Eventually, he found ramen and made it exactly the way you liked it. You took one bite and stared at him like he had just performed a miracle.

“What the—how the fuck did you make it perfect?”

With a smug smile, he slid his phone across the table.

“Notes app. Took notes during our FaceTime calls. Every time you made ramen, I watched, listened, and learned.”

You stared at him in disbelief. 

“You have a Notes app entry dedicated to my ramen?” you said as you read the very detailed notes he took.

1. Add only half of the seasoning packet after 2 minutes of boiling 2. Add sesame oil; 1 and a half teaspoons only 3. Boil noodles for EXACTLY 3 min & 30 seconds; no more, no less!!!!!! 4. Turn stove off, add egg immediately, cover and leave to cook for 1 minute using residual heat 5. MOST IMPORTANT❗❗❗ Serve my 🤞future wife 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨👰🏻🤵🏻🤞 with love 💖 affection 🥰 adoration 💕😍💘

“Don’t act surprised. You know I’m a hard simp for you.”

You laughed, loud and real. God, he loved that sound. 

The two of you talked for hours. About nonsense, about dreams, about nothing and everything. And as you spoke, Haechan couldn’t stop staring.

The way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved. All your hand gestures. The way you tilted your head when you were about to say something smart-ass-y.

He was so screwed. So fucking screwed.

When it was time for him to leave, you walked him to the door, your voice softer than usual.

“Thanks for today, seriously… you were amazing.”

He shrugged, trying to seem cool despite the way his heart was screaming. 

“Anything for you.”

You stepped in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

His brain shut down.

“That’s for being sweet,” you murmured, visibly blushing.

He opened his mouth to say something. Maybe a joke, maybe a plea for another kiss.

But before he could even get the words out, you leaned in again and kissed him on the lips.

It was so sweet, so soft, so warm that Haechan felt all fuzzy inside.

Then you pulled back with a shy smile.

“You deserved that. Good night, Lee Donghyuck.”

Haechan walked home that night giggling like a damn schoolgirl, skipping down the sidewalk.

He didn’t sleep that night. He just couldn’t.

Too busy replaying the kiss. Too busy falling in love all over again.

Haechan was dead serious about grocery shopping with you that weekend. He never forgot the image of your empty fridge and pantry.

From the moment the shopping cart hit the tile floor of the supermarket, however, he knew he had made a mistake.

Not about coming here with you. Never about that.

But bringing along the rest of NCT DREAM? That was asking for chaos. 

And they delivered.

Renjun and Chenle were three seconds away from a fistfight over which brand of dumplings “tasted like home".

Mark was trying to prevent Jisung from dumping eight family-size frozen pizzas into the cart.

Jaemin had disappeared somewhere near the meat section.

And Jeno… well, Jeno was quietly loading protein bars.

In the middle of it all was you, trying so hard not to lose your mind. Eyes sharp, sleeves rolled, your phone out with a list, and your tolerance hanging by a thread.

Haechan couldn’t stop staring at you in awe though.

You were tired, stressed, beautiful. His (even if you hadn’t officially said it yet; he just believed in manifestation). And he had never wanted to take care of someone more in his life.

He drifted toward you, grinning. “You good, baby?”

You let out a sigh.

“I just saw Jisung try to eat a dried squid like a snack.”

“Protein,” Haechan nodded seriously. 

“You all have one brain cell and it’s constantly overheating.”

“And yet,” he said, bumping your shoulder playfully, “you keep showing up.”

You shook your head, but your smile tugged at the corners. He caught it, always did.

And then, he started his little mission.

While the guys fought over snacks and Jisung questioned the difference between ‘plain yogurt' and ‘Greek yogurt’, Haechan was pulling things from your cart and swapping them.

He snuck in quality produce, whole grains, probiotic drinks. Things he knew you never bought for yourself because they were too expensive or felt unnecessary.

“You’re not sneaky,” you whispered, catching him replacing your soda with vitamin water.

“I’m caring,” he replied. “There’s a difference.”

“You’re annoying.”

“You’re unhealthy. Let me love you properly.”

He meant it.

At checkout, you tried to pay. And Haechan—full-time menace, part-time boyfriend hopeful—snatched your wallet with reflexes born from years of being nosy.

“I got it.”

“Haechan—”

“Nope, I’m paying. You deserve nice things. Like salmon and A5 Wagyu.”

“It’s a grocery run, not a honeymoon—”

“Too late. I’m already emotionally invested in your fridge, your health, and your life.”

He said it so confidently, so shamelessly, the cashier actually giggled.

Haechan didn’t care. He tapped his card like it was nothing and slung the bags over his shoulders like a knight delivering offerings to his queen.

Back at your apartment, you both unpacked in comfortable silence. The rest of the guys had gone back to their dorms, and now it was just you and him.

Haechan placed your drinks in the fridge in rainbow order while you arranged the dry goods.

He felt good here, like he always belonged.

He snuck glances at you as you folded and stacked, moving around the space he now knew better than his own dorm kitchen. You looked peaceful, your brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

God, he was down bad.

Once everything was away, he leaned on the counter and gave you a look.

That look.

“What?” you asked, cautious.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your shoulders relaxed just a little. 

“You’re asking?”

“I just want to make sure,” he said.

“Because this one’s not just for being cute... or for making Mark gag. This one’s because I’m into you. Deep. I want this to be meaningful.”

You smiled softly at him and nodded, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Haechan didn’t think the moment could get any better after you said yes to the kiss.

He had asked because, of course, he would. He should.

That was just who he was with you: careful, patient, a little hopeless. Always waiting for the green light. And when you gave it with that soft smile on your face, he swore the earth tilted under his feet.

The kiss had been slow, sweet, and tender. And now, you sat next to him on your couch, your fingers still tangled with his, your heart steady but loud in the quiet of the apartment.

Then you looked at him, and he saw something shift in your eyes. Something big.

“Haechan…” you called softly.

“Can I be your girlfriend?”

His heart slammed in his chest.

He froze, blinking as if he hadn’t heard you right. But before he could say anything, you kept going.

“I think you’re the one I’ve been looking for all along. And I don’t know if it’s too late, but I really regret not making the effort to get to know you better earlier... I wasted so much time dating shitty men who couldn’t even treat me like a person… or see me the way you've always seen me.”

His chest ached, but you weren’t done. 

“You were always there. Holding space for me... never asking for anything. And now, looking at you, I just—I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. You’re the best plot twist of my life.”

He swore time stood still.

“I’m sorry I made you wait this long. I’m sorry I was out there swiping left and right while you were just… quietly being everything I ever needed. Thank you for sticking with me, Lee Donghyuck.”

And then—

“I love you,” Haechan blurted.

The words slipped out so fast, so soft, he barely noticed he said them aloud until your eyes widened.

He didn’t even mean to blurt it—he was just overflowing with so much love for you. Shocked. Elated. Completely gone.

You finally chose him.

He took a shaky breath, calming his racing heart.

“I didn’t say it because I wanted anything back,” he murmured.

“I just… I’ve loved you for so long without needing you to love me too. But now you’re here saying all this… it feels like I finally got to wake up in the dream I’ve been stuck in for a long time.”

You stared at him, visibly flustered now, lips parted like you couldn’t figure out what to do with yourself. Your eyes flicked everywhere, anywhere but his, like his confession shut your brain off.

He chuckled softly. “You’re shy now? After all that?” he teased, leaning in just enough to nudge your nose with his. 

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear you say anything like that?”

You couldn’t hide the obvious blush creeping up your face anymore, and with a small noise, you grabbed him and hugged him tightly, arms around his waist like you needed to hide in him.

Haechan melted immediately, arms coming around you, a huge smile tugging at his lips it almost hurt.

“God, you’re so cute,” he whispered into your hair.

“You’re done for, you know that? I’m gonna spoil you so bad, you’ll forget Tinder ever existed.”

You let out a muffled laugh against his chest.

And that’s when it finally hit him, the absurdity of it all.

“Oh my god, the guys owe me so much money.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, confused.

“They all said I was delusional,” he said, dramatically rolling his eyes. 

“That I’d stay your unofficial simp until I died. Jeno even bet me an entire month’s allowance that I’d never get past friend zone.”

You burst out laughing, and he grinned, leaning in like he was letting you in on a secret.

“But look at me now,” he whispered.

“Right here, with the girl who chose me.”

He kissed your cheek once, then twice for good luck, then smiled into your skin. 

“I can’t wait to tell Jeno. I’m asking for payment in both hard cash and public humiliation.”

You giggled and leaned into him again, cheeks warm, heart full of happiness.

He was still Haechan. Dramatic, ridiculous, absolutely in love.

But now, he's officially yours.

accepting requests atm ₍ᐢ._.ᐢ₎♡

also—PRE-SIMP HAECHAN IS OUT!!!

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ ‘simping 101: get roasted & love will follow’

[snail-day]

Can My Friend Join?

Your boyfriend wants his murderer of a best friend to join your relationship. You'll do that for him, right?

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader

Part two

TW: Yandere Behaviors, dubcon/noncon?, Manipulation, SatoSugu, Potential grammatical/spelling errors, oral/fingering (f! receiving), Trapping/love bombing. MDNI

WC: 5.2k

You see, it wasn’t totally unlike your boyfriend to make crazy decisions.

Satoru was rash, impulsive, yet completely and utterly in love with you in a way that made it hard to say no to him. And he always knew how to work that to his advantage. You’d let him get away with just about anything—like buying a penthouse in Shibuya without even stepping foot in it, or whisking you off on spontaneous trips for “work” that had your boss threatening to fire you every time you gave him a last-minute call about your absence.

Crazy decisions were his specialty, after all. Including the craziest one of all: dating you, a non sorcerer, that was not a well-kept secret from his clan.

And now, his most recent decision was leaving you staring at him in stunned disbelief.

“Come on, baby, he’s going to therapy,” Satoru murmured into your ear, his arms snug around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. His voice was soft, almost coaxing, as he peppered gentle kisses along the curve of your neck. “You remember Sugu, right? You even mentioned you had a little crush on him before we started dating.”

Suguru Geto. The man who’d slaughtered a village, started a cult, and declared genocide on nonsorcerers like you.

But now, according to Satoru, he was “better.” Redeemed, even. Whatever that meant. He wasn’t a deranged cult leader anymore, apparently. Therapy had fixed him. Or at least, that’s what Satoru was claiming with his usual breezy confidence.

“My love,” you began softly, setting the tea you’d been preparing down to turn and face him. His cerulean eyes shone with that familiar affection, the corners crinkling slightly as he gazed down at you like you hung the moon. It made your chest ache. “I know you two… had a thing. But why does he need to be a part of our relationship?”

You tried to keep your tone gentle, like you were trying to reason with him. Because, honestly, you were.

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening just enough to tell you he’d been prepared for this question. “Mmm, well,” he started, the teasing lilt of his voice softening. “You were there for me, weren’t you? You’ve kept me grounded—saved me, even.” He leaned in to nuzzle against your cheek. “I figured… maybe you could do the same for him. Help him down a better path, you know? Keep an eye on him.”

Your heart sank.

“And,” he added with a sheepish laugh, his blush deepening as his hand rubbed the back of his neck, “well, he was actually the one who suggested it.”

That had your stomach twisting uncomfortably. You searched his face for answers, for some sign that this wasn’t as serious as it sounded. But all you found was that lovesick smile of his.

And you knew.

Satoru still had feelings for Suguru. He’d never said it outright, but the signs were there. The way his voice softened when he spoke of him. The wistful, almost mournful glint in his eyes whenever Suguru’s name came up. And, of course, the times he’d accidentally murmured Suguru’s name in moments of intimacy with you.

Your throat felt tight.

“Satoru…” You struggled to find the words, to balance the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. Jealousy. Confusion. Heartbreak. And, strangely enough, pity.

“It won’t change anything between us,” he said quickly, like he could see your doubts forming. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing soothingly against your skin. “I promise. You’re my person—my love. I just… I can’t let him go again. Not like before.”

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “And what if I can’t do this? What if I can’t… share you?”

Satoru’s expression softened, his usual playful confidence replaced with something raw and pleading. “Please,” he murmured, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. It wasn’t like him to plead. To beg. “Just think about it, okay? You won’t be home alone as much anymore when I’m out on missions. With Suguru back, there’ll be two strongest sorcerers. That means I won’t have to work or be on call as much. I’m thinking about us, baby.”

His words were so earnest, so filled with affection, that they pressed against your chest like a weight. You should’ve voiced your opinions, should’ve argued, but the guilt crept in before you could. Satoru had done so much for you—letting you live with him rent-free, covering your schooling, and showering you with a kind of love that had felt impossible in a world where you were so much weaker than him.

How could you say no to him? Not after everything.

So, what if you were allowing some murderer into your relationship? Satoru said he was better now. Satoru loved you. He wouldn’t steer you wrong… right?

You bit your lip, glancing away before nodding hesitantly. “Can we… take things slow, Toru?” Your voice was soft, almost unsure, as you sheepishly met his gaze.

Satoru’s face lit up with relief, his cerulean eyes shining so brightly it was almost blinding. “Oh, of course, baby. As slow as you need to. I know I can be a bit… eager, heh,” he said with a nervous laugh, his hands cupping your cheeks tenderly. Then, with a playful grin, he squished them together, molding your lips into silly fishy shapes.

“There it is! Cute as ever,” he teased, leaning closer, his voice softer now. “But I still love you. You know that, right?”

You nodded automatically, leaning into his touch despite the unease swirling in your stomach. Perhaps, you were overthinking this. Relationships need a bit of spice, right?

“I know,” you murmured, forcing a small smile. “I love you too.”

The words almost came automatically, yet your anxiety continued to ring alarming bells.

He grinned, his usual teasing confidence returning as he kissed your forehead. “That’s my baby. I knew you’d understand.”

And so, within a week, Suguru Geto moved in.

It was awkward at first. You weren’t sure how to act around him—this man who carried a dark, complicated history yet exuded a calm, almost disarming aura. Offering shy smiles felt like the extent of your bravery, and more often than not, you retreated to the sanctuary of your bedroom.

At least Suguru had the decency to move into the guest room initially. That small gesture was a relief in itself. And thankfully, with Satoru and Suguru being sorcerers, you were rarely alone with him. At least not yet.

But Suguru was... considerate. You couldn’t deny that. He had a quiet, almost effortless charm, and while you had your issues—big issues—you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was a handsome, beautiful man.

“Ah, do you need help?” Suguru asked one day, his deep voice breaking the silence as he spotted you reaching for the Christmas decorations tucked away on the highest shelf of the closet.

You froze for a moment, clutching at the edge of the shelf. “No, I’ll be alright… thank you,” you murmured, your voice almost too shy.

Suguru tilted his head, his dark eyes softening as he took a step closer. “It’s no trouble. Here.” Without waiting for permission, he reached up effortlessly, his height making quick work of retrieving the box.

You thanked him quietly, clutching the box as you avoided his gaze. His lips quirked into a faint smile, but he said nothing, stepping back to give you space.

Then there were the times he helped without hesitation, like during grocery trips.

Satoru would inevitably dart off down the aisles, hunting for sweets or whatever caught his attention. Suguru, on the other hand, stuck to your side, the picture of calm efficiency. He’d scan the list you held, nodding thoughtfully before reaching for items on the shelves—always grabbing your favorite brands without you needing to say a word.

“You cook often, don’t you?” he remarked once, glancing at the cart as he placed a box of your preferred pasta into it.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied, startled by how observant he was. “It’s… kind of relaxing.”

He hummed in agreement, his expression neutral but not unkind. “I can see that. I’ll have to try some of your cooking sometime.”

The comment left you flustered, unsure how to respond. Satoru would’ve teased you mercilessly, but Suguru simply kept moving, scanning the shelves like he wasn’t even aware of the small storm brewing in your chest.

It was moments like these—small, thoughtful gestures and quiet interactions—that left you unsettled. Suguru wasn’t what you expected. You’d braced yourself for someone dangerous, cold, someone you couldn’t trust. But instead, he was... kind. Maybe too kind.

And that was what unnerved you the most.

Because every time you caught his lingering gaze or noticed the way he seemed to effortlessly fit into your routines, you couldn’t help but wonder: Was he doing this for Satoru? Or was he doing it for you?

It started off slow. Like a light sprinkle before the storm. 

Satoru was still the same as ever—the fun-loving boyfriend, full of laughter and mischief. He’d press kisses to your cheek, wrap you in his arms, and tease you in that playful way that made your heart flutter. But lately, his words carried a strange edge, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe start showing Sugu a bit of love,” he teased one evening, nuzzling against your neck as you brushed your teeth. “He’s trying, y’know. Don’t be difficult, baby.”

You froze for a moment, the brush stilling in your hand as you quickly spit out the toothpaste. That… hurt. His tone was light, but the implication stung. Was he disappointed in you?

Still, you managed a tight smile and nodded, swallowing your unease. “I’ll try.”

Satoru grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “That’s my baby.”

But then Suguru began to be more… involved.

It wasn’t anything overt at first. He’d sit quietly in the living room while you watched TV, occasionally commenting on the plot like a polite guest. Not as the boyfriend he was supposed to be, that you didn’t want him to be. He’d help with household chores without being asked, his quiet competence a stark contrast to Satoru’s chaotic energy.

But there was something about the way his presence lingered—like a shadow stretching further than it should.

“Tired?” he asked one evening, his voice like honey as you struggled to keep your eyes open on the couch. You felt him sit down beside you, close enough that his warmth seeped into your side.

You nodded, your words slurring slightly. “Yeah… long day.”

Suguru reached out, his fingers brushing against your temple as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was gentle, almost tender, but his dark eyes… they hid something.

“You should rest more,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Satoru worries about you.”

You blinked, struggling to process his words. “He does?”

Suguru smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course. We both do.”

The way he said it—we—sent a strange chill down your spine.

As the days passed, the small, unsettling moments began to pile up.

Suguru had a way of always being there, always watching. When you left a room, you’d turn to find his gaze following you. When you spoke, he listened so intently it felt like he was dissecting your every word.

And Satoru, who’d always been possessive in his teasing way, started pushing boundaries in ways he hadn’t before.

One evening, as you tried to excuse yourself to your bedroom after dinner, Satoru caught your wrist, pulling you back to the living room where Suguru sat quietly.

“Don’t run off so quick,” he said, his grin wide but his grip firm. “We’re a family now, aren’t we? Stay with us for a bit.”

Suguru looked up from his tea, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Satoru’s right,” he said softly, his lips curving into a small, almost inviting smile. “It’s nice when we’re all together.”

The way they looked at you—Satoru’s bright gaze brimming with love, Suguru’s dark eyes filled with something deeper, darker—made you feel trapped.

And then, Satoru had to leave.

He was off to Kenya for a mission with a student, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the apartment felt… quieter. You’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that Suguru would be sent off somewhere too, leaving you to breathe for a moment, to process.

But no.

Suguru stayed.

The first few nights felt strange, the absence of Satoru’s boundless energy a sharp contrast to Suguru’s quiet, deliberate presence. He wasn’t pushy—if anything, he gave you more space than usual, offering soft smiles and polite conversation. But there was always something in the air, something unspoken, something that made the silence between you feel heavier than it should.

And then, one night, as you lay in what felt like a bed too big without Satoru’s warmth beside you, you felt it—a hand wrapping around your waist, firm yet gentle, pulling you back against a solid chest.

Your breath hitched as a woodsy, earthy scent filled your nose, inky dark hair brushing against your shoulders.

Your heart sank once again, something it’s been doing a little too much as of late. 

“You’re awake,” Suguru murmured softly, his voice warm and low, like he’d been waiting for you to notice. His lips ghosted against your cheek in a feather-light kiss, making your skin prickle. “Satoru said I should join you. Keep you safe.”

Safe? The word felt foreign, almost cruel, as if it was meant to comfort you when it did the exact opposite.

“Suguru,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to pull away, but his arm around your waist tightened, holding you in place.

“Shh,” he soothed, his breath warm against your ear. “It’s okay. I know it feels strange, but Satoru trusts me to look after you. He said you get lonely when he’s away.”

Your stomach twisted. This wasn’t Satoru’s doing—at least, not entirely. This was Suguru, using Satoru’s words, his trust, to inch closer, to blur the lines you’d been desperately trying to hold onto.

“You don’t have to do this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His hand moved, sliding up to rest lightly against your ribs, his touch slow and deliberate. “I want to,” he murmured. “You deserve someone to care for you, even when Satoru can’t. That’s what we agreed on, isn’t it?”

You froze. Agreed on?

The realization hit you like a wave, cold and suffocating. This wasn’t just Satoru’s idea. This wasn’t just about keeping you “safe” or “happy.” This was part of something bigger, something the two of them had decided for you, without you.

“I don’t think—” you started, but Suguru cut you off, his voice still maddeningly calm.

“You don’t have to think,” he said softly, almost kindly, as his fingers brushed against your jaw, tilting your head slightly so he could press a kiss to your temple. “Just go to sleep, yeah?”

But the way his grip on you remained firm, the way his body pressed so closely against yours, made it abundantly clear that this wasn’t a request.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a frantic rhythm that you were sure he could feel where his arm wrapped around your waist. Go to sleep? How could you possibly sleep with this man lying so close, his breath steady against the back of your neck, his warmth invading every inch of your space?

Suguru shifted slightly, his arm pulling you tighter against him as though sensing your discomfort. “You’re tense,” he murmured, his tone carrying a strange gentleness. “It’s okay to relax. I’m here.”

His words sent shivers down your body and tendrils of anxiety in your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to calm down. But how could you relax when your instincts screamed that something was wrong? That something about him, about this situation, was profoundly off?

You tried to focus on your breathing, hoping it would drown out the sound of your racing thoughts. But every inhale carried the faint, woodsy scent of him—so different from Satoru’s familiar, comforting smell. It was calming, yet suffocating all at once.

A small voice crept in your mind, you shouldn’t feel calm. 

Suguru hummed softly, a low, melodic sound that sent another wave of unease through you. “You smell nice,” he said, almost absentmindedly. His nose brushed against your hair, and you froze as he inhaled deeply. “Like home.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, you thought. But they felt wrong, invasive, like he was claiming a piece of you that wasn’t his to take.

You wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat. And in that silence, Suguru’s hand shifted, moving from your ribs to rest lightly against your stomach, the weight of it grounding and possessive.

“You’re safe with me,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost tender. Almost loving. “I’ll keep you safe. Just sleep, okay?”

Your throat tightened, and your breathing came faster as you tried to steady yourself. Safe. He kept using that word, as though repeating it would make it true. As if he were tricking your mind into thinking it was true. 

But how could you feel safe when every instinct in your body screamed at you to run?

Suguru’s grip didn’t waver, and the steady rhythm of his breathing filled the silence, lulling you into a state of uneasy stillness. You didn’t know how long you lay there, rigid and wide-eyed, before exhaustion began to weigh on you.

Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. Slowly, reluctantly, your eyes fluttered shut, and your breathing evened out.

You stirred awake to a sensation so surreal, so tender, that in your dreamlike haze, you convinced yourself it was Satoru.

The soft brush of hair between your thighs, a large, calloused hand rested on the fat of your thighs, keeping your legs open, as your eyes were slowly opening from sleep. 

You felt his tongue drift up you sopping slit, moving to circle around your bundle of nerves, a whine escaping your lips as you shifted a little only for a warm hand to press against your abdomen to keep you from moving as he continued to dive deep into your cunt, his tongue switching from spelling a name on your sensitive clit to fucking your tight dripping heat. You couldn’t help but muffle your moans by biting the sheets. 

“Toru…” You whimpered out in pathetic small breaths. “Feels…s’good” it wasn’t like Satoru to be this in-depth with eating you out. It felt like he was mapping out your entire insides as he slowly inserted a finger into your dripping mess. 

You felt a nip on your inner thigh, causing a whine and for you to finally open your eyes. 

“Wrong boyfriend,” Suguru murmured, his voice a low, velvety hum that sent a shiver rippling down your spine. His dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he hovered just above your pussy that clenched around his fat finger that curled in just the right spot, your gummy walls clenching, no, greedily sucking in. His lips curled into a faint, knowing smirk. 

He tilted his head, his inky hair brushing against your trembling thighs as he leaned back down, his movements deliberate, controlled, as though savoring every moment of your reaction. His breath ghosted over your poor pussy, slowly licking up the mess you were leaking as he pushed his finger knuckle deep inside you, before slowly, teasingly adding another one of his thick fingers inside. Compared to Satoru’s thin long fingers, his was different, it was almost mind-numbing as your poor cunny tightened at the sudden intrusion of another finger.  

“Suguru” You panted out. “I-” and a gasp left your lips as you felt him curl both his fingers. Hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, no colors, all sorts of stars and colors, as he pried you open. Your mouth left agape as you tried to think of anything besides the pleasure and the sickening wet sounds that were filling the bedroom. 

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. You mind sang to you. But god, did it feel so good. 

“Mmmm, such a sweet pussy” he said softly before lightly sucking on your nub, earning sweet moans and whispers from your lips “Want me to stop, pretty?”  he said softly as he released your poor abused little clit with a loud pop. Offering a small kitten lick as you were trying to form a coherent sentence. 

“Come on, baby girl, use your words f’me.” His fingers slipping out of your slickened folds that caused you to look down at him with half-lidded eyes and a pout. You were so fucked.  

“You need me don’t you? Need me to help you?” He said softly as he pulled away, his big warm hand cupping your heat as you bucked your hips, his thumb lightly grazing your clit, toying with it softly. His chin glistened with your juices as he moved close to your face. 

It didn’t help that he was so devastatingly attractive—so effortlessly pretty, yet undeniably handsome. Every sharp line of his jaw, every curve of his lips, and the way his dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through you made it impossible to look away, even when you wanted to. Even when you knew you should.

“Give me a kiss, just one little kiss, and then I’ll let you cum. Okay, pretty?” Suguru hummed softly, his gaze lingering on your plump, red lips, his voice almost syrupy in its coaxing. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in the teary-eyed expression you offered him. “Can you do that for me?”

You wanted to fight him. Wanted to kick him off, shove him away, bite that insufferable smirk right off his face.

But he made you feel so good.

You were warm, fuzzy, and completely disconnected from yourself. Every logical thought dissolved into the haze of pleasure he’d wrapped you in. Your body betrayed you, nodding mindlessly like some desperate, needy thing you hardly recognized.

“One kiss?” you murmured meekly, your voice trembling.

Suguru’s grin widened, predatory and oh-so smug. “Just one,” he purred, watching as your eyes flickered away from him.

That’s when you saw it.

The camera.

Nestled discreetly in the corner of the room, its cold, unblinking lens stared back at you. Your stomach dropped, the haze clearing just enough for panic to creep in.

Suguru followed your gaze, and when he saw what had caught your attention, he chuckled—a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Oh,” he said smoothly, as though you’d stumbled upon a delightful surprise. “You found the camera.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours, his voice a whisper now. “Say hi to Toru.”

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours, the kiss fierce and consuming, stealing the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—it was possessive, demanding, a declaration that left no room for resistance. His hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue brushed against yours, coaxing a response you couldn’t deny.

Every fleeting thought of resistance melted under the heat of his touch, leaving you utterly at his mercy, the world narrowing to the overwhelming intensity of him.

That fuzzy, dreamlike feeling reeled in your mind, spinning you further into a haze. The high you were on didn’t feel natural—it was too consuming, too overwhelming. Even after you came for the nth time, your body still burned with need, craving more despite the exhaustion creeping into your limbs.

You glanced at Suguru through the haze, his expression soft, almost tender, as he leaned down to scoop you into his arms. His strength was effortless, and the gentle smile that tugged at his lips felt entirely out of place with the aching mess he’d left you in.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he hummed softly, cradling you as though you weighed nothing.

Your body refused to cooperate, too spent and trembling to do anything but lay limply in his embrace. Resigning yourself to your inability to fight, you rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek. It was almost comforting if not for the gnawing unease beneath the surface of your mind.

As he carried you to the bathroom, his voice broke the silence, low and soothing. “Satoru’s coming home today,” he said, his tone so calm, so casual, that it sent a chill down your spine. “He’s going to be so proud of the progress we made, yeah?”

The words hung in the air, their weight suffocating.

The day stretched on in a blur, and though Suguru remained by your side, tending to you with a gentleness that felt far too intimate, you couldn’t shake the words he’d spoken.

Satoru’s coming home today. He’s going to be so proud of the progress we made.

Each passing moment only tightened the knot in your stomach, the uneasy anticipation building to a crescendo by the time the front door opened with Satoru’s familiar sing-song call.

“My sweet sugar bears, I’m home!”

His voice echoed through the apartment, bright and teasing as always, but it carried a weight that hadn’t been there before. You stiffened, clutching the edges of the blanket Suguru had wrapped around you as you sat on the couch, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suguru, seated beside you with a calm, almost serene expression, stood and moved to greet him. “Welcome back,” he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Satoru appeared moments later, his bright cerulean eyes sweeping over the room before landing on you. His grin widened, mischievous and utterly unapologetic.

“There’s my girl,” he said, striding over and crouching in front of you. His hand reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. “Missed you.”

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say as his gaze lingered on you, almost too intently.

Then he turned his attention to Suguru, who was now leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the interaction unfold.

“And you,” Satoru said, his grin taking on a sharper edge. “You really outdid yourself this time, Sugu.”

Suguru inclined his head slightly, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m glad you think so. She was… responsive.”

Your stomach twisted at the way they spoke, as if you weren’t even there—or worse, as if you were some sort of project they’d been collaborating on.

Satoru’s attention flicked back to you, and his grin softened into something almost affectionate. “I loved the video,” he said, his voice low as he leaned closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “You looked so perfect for him, baby. It made me jealous.”

Your blood ran cold.

“The—video?” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling as your mind raced to catch up.

Satoru tilted his head, his grin widening again as he straightened. “Oh, come on, don’t play coy now,” he teased, reaching out to ruffle your hair like you were some pet he was fond of. “You knew about the camera, didn’t you? Suguru said you even looked right at it.”

Suguru’s chuckle was low, almost inaudible, but it caused your chest to tighten. Throat to clench up, you suddenly wanted to cry. 

“We’ll have to make more next time,” Satoru continued, his tone light, almost playful, like he was discussing something as mundane as dinner plans. His grin stretched wide, carefree, but his words carried a weight that left your chest tight. “But don’t worry—I’ll be in the next one. No way I’m missing out again.”

The floor beneath you might as well have disappeared. The weight of their words pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating, and your heart hammered as panic welled in your chest.

“No,” you said, your voice trembling. “No, this isn’t… This isn’t right. You can’t just—”

Suguru stepped forward, his movements unhurried, deliberate. His dark eyes locked onto yours, unreadable yet brimming with a quiet intensity that made your skin prickle. He stopped just behind Satoru, his presence looming, steady.

“We’re a team, after all,” he said softly, his voice smooth and calm, like he was explaining something obvious. “It’s only fair we share.”

“No,” you said again, louder this time. The word came out sharp, cutting through the air like a blade, though your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t normal, Satoru, Suguru—this isn’t love.”

For a moment, the room seemed to freeze, the weight of your words hanging in the tense silence.

Suguru’s lips curled into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Is that what you think?” he asked, his tone soft, almost disappointed. He tilted his head slightly, his dark hair spilling over his shoulder as he regarded you with something akin to pity. “You think this isn’t love?”

“Yes,” you said, though the tremor in your voice betrayed your confidence. “This isn’t right. You’re asking too much—this isn’t something I can give.”

Suguru took another step closer, his gaze unwavering. “And what do you think love is, then?” he asked, his voice low, coaxing. “Is it not trust? Devotion? Sacrifice?” He leaned in slightly, his presence suffocating as his words wrapped around you like a vice. “After everything Satoru and I have done for you, everything we’ve given you as of late—are you really saying we don’t deserve your love in return?”

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking into your chest like stones. You had to swallow back your tears. “That’s not what I—”

“But it is,” Suguru interrupted, his voice never rising, never breaking its calm, steady cadence. “You’re saying no to us. To him. To me. After everything we’ve done to keep you safe, to give you the life you have now.”

You’d be nothing without them. You almost owe your life to Satoru alone. 

His words twisted in your mind, sharp and cutting, making you question the thoughts you’d clung to just moments before. He stepped even closer, his dark eyes softening, his tone shifting to something almost tender. “Do you really think it’s fair to push us away when all we want is to love you? To care for you? To protect you?”

Your lips parted, but the words died in your throat.

Satoru crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his cerulean eyes wide and impossibly soft. “Don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice heartbreakingly gentle. “Because if you do, baby, then you can love us.”

Suguru nodded, his smile warming into something deceptively kind. “We’re not asking for much,” he murmured. “Just for you to trust us. To let us take care of you. Isn’t that what love is about?”

The room spun, their words swirling in your mind, drowning out the panic that had gripped you moments before. Their voices, so soothing, so insistent, chipped away at your resolve, making you question everything you thought you knew.

“Shh, you’re cryin’,” Satoru said softly, brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch gentle as he wiped your hot frustrated tears. “Don’t overthink it, baby. Just let us love you. That’s all we want.”

Suguru’s hand came to rest lightly on your shoulder, his grip firm but not forceful, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You don’t want to disappoint us, do you? Satoru has given you everything. Don’t you think you owe us this much?”

The words struck deep, guilt twisting in your chest as you struggled to breathe.

They loved you. This is love, right?

[today-in-the-bunker]

Today, thunder crackles loudly around the bunker as Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack all ride out the storm safely indoors. Dean recalls a day from their childhood where he and Sam, weathering a storm cooped up at Bobby's, played board games for the first time by lantern light when the power had gone out. As Cas begins to express relief in their gardens being watered and Jack is asking Sam how far away the storm is, Dean wordlessly makes his way to the library to retrieve a stack of their favorite games, which he plops down on the table in front of everyone, declaring a spontaneous game day.

[lvl109]

sylus is a physical presence of his unwavering support. words of encouragement disguised within layers of toying and sharp wit. unwavering eye contact and his undivided attention. a hand at your lower back in public. preference of voice notes and long calls instead of text because he likes hearing your tone lilt and change when you talk–and it's not the same over text, thank you very much.

zayne is calls during his break—or at least, the ones he takes when your designated ringtone wafts from his pocket while doing paperwork. wiping lingering traces of sugar from your lips. quiet walks at night with little to no disturbances. knowing when you need things before you say you do. staying up late sharing soft conversations about your day but sitting in content silence if needed. will switch plates with you if your order isn't up to standard without a second thought.

caleb is boyish charm and steadfast in his declarations of content. routine that feels like warm memories. tightening jars so that you'll call for his help and preening when you thank him with a kiss to his cheek. matching bracelets, outfits, even shoes, down to the laces and custom ordered detailing of your names on the sides. blatant domesticity in the form of cheesy callings of honey, i'm home! that you can only shake your head at with barely hidden fondness.

xavier is random pictures sent to your messages, like this reminded me of u attached to a picture of a heart shaped rock he saw on patrol. lazy days off spent cuddling in front of a long forgotten movie on mute. constantly touching while doing mundane tasks like holding hands while grocery shopping or playing footsie while eating dinner. stargazing and naming stars after random things you ate for dinner, knowing the only star he'd ever want close and in present with him is the one next to him.

rafayel keeps a photo of you in his wallet and looks at it for muse when you're not around the way a wife would of her lover off at war. his album is full of candids titled under silly album names like 2cute2handle or the reason i breathe <3. sends a good morning text even if he sleeps in late and expects one back even if it's four in the afternoon. midday strolls around the city turn into spontaneous dates if there's an attraction or new exhibit that just opened. would you love me if i turned into a blobfish and had to live on the surface just to be with you? and other silly questions are common with him. you think it's a bit dramatic but you love him all the same. (and yes, you would.)

join my taglist here.

[yzzart]

I KNOW, MY EYES ALREADY LOVE YOU ── KENJI SATO

── summary: What could be Kenji Sato's certainty and weakness?

── content warnings: F!reader, 18+, nsfw, morning sex, unprotected, riding, playing w/ nipples, dirty talk, praise, petnames, kenji being a fucking tease, explicit words, explicit content.

── word count: 1.798!

Kenji did not know, or did he understand, some certainties about his life, and, perhaps, it could sound like imprudence, the purest act of negligence he had the opportunity to tolerate; in fact, it was obvious. — He believed in this line of consciousness, attempted reasoning.

He declared that he made mistakes, countless mistakes, and, currently, he still thinks about the hypothesis that he could make them to this day; even though he wanted to, and tried, as much as possible, not to reveal what he believed to the cameras, journalists and specific people around him. — Sato wouldn't stand it, he knew that.

However, resonating with a merciless and sweet irony, seeming such a surprising incongruity, Kenji was, he knew, certain about one thing in his existence, something that he would not dare lie, deceive himself or dissemble; he imagined he might die if he did that. — His chest burned, sharply, just thinking about it.

You were one of Sato's weaknesses; in his view, the only one. — At the same time, it was his strength; knowing that, you can destabilize him, with ease and incomplexity, conceiving a change in his concentration and everything around, just by directing your eyes against his would be able to be seen as ridiculous and playing a vulnerable side and stealing his attention was peculiar. — Something incredibly curious.

But in Sato's eyes, it was a form, way of how to worship you; being able to feel a passion, intensely, disoriented and burning in his heart. — Admitting something so angelic and serene. — Not hiding the fact that you were his refuge, a place where he felt safe and loved and knew that it would protect him at all costs in his life; experiencing being worthy of you.

And every morning, every second and minute of it, at dawn next to you, with his body entwined with yours, Kenji thought about it.

"A kiss for your thoughts?" — A sleepy, so sweet voice exclaims in the boy's ears, spontaneously bringing a cunning smile to his lips; Kenji loved your humor, even during the early morning. — "What do you think?" — Even with the huge cuts in the windows, showing weak and soft bands of light, you refused to open your eyes at that moment, yawning.

"That's a very good proposal, should i accept it?" — He asked, looking down at your leg, which was in the region of his hips, and felt, deliciously, you pressing yourself against him; Sato's smile grew even wider due to the fact that you only had the blanket stuck to your bodies. — "Good morning to you too, kitten."

He considered some sleepy, boring mumbles and grunts that came out of your mouth as a response, and found it adorable; bringing his lips to your forehead, kissing it, while stroking your hair. — Taking care of his girl with delicacy and gentleness. — And more melodic hums were made by you.

You couldn't stop that familiar and delightful tingling between your legs, and soon you was clumsily rubbing yourself against Kenji's hips, — who didn't fail to find your morning boner fascinating and hungry — without a hint of shame.

"I see someone…" — A sensual laugh vibrated in your temple. — "…woke up very well." — He added, feeling a lump in his throat, unable to contain his shaky breath. — "No?" — Your hand snaked over Kenji's athletic chest, a line of coldness crossed his skin, caused by the ring you had on your finger; your engagement ring.

Not knowing how to resist, and never could, your movements, the painful, throbbing sensation began to burn, sharply, Kenji's dick, showing the large bulge developed in the blanket; he was already starting to feel needier than usual, wanting to fit his face into your neck and dive into your pussy.

Just thinking about being inside you makes Sato's breathing become a panting mess, not wanting or admitting to waste another second.

"I always wake up right next to you, Kenji." — You replied, lifting your head, directing your lips to the eldest's shoulder, trailing kisses across his skin; showing affection. — "Always." — The little kisses went up to his collarbone, your warm hands remained on his chest.

During the small movement between the sheets, caused by you, part of your boobs were exposed and shivering as they hit Kenji's skin; he didn't wait and anxiously felt the beak of one of them, squeezing it with a certain and frank force. — Drawing a sigh from you and making the player bite his lip, like prey. — The damn man liked doing that.

Sato was, indisputably, diabolical, the most arrogant and delighting provocation to ever stand before you.

“Come here, come.” — He asked in a whisper, cunning and with eyes clouded with desire, looking at every point of your face and eyes, running his tongue over his lips, leaving them wet and, faintly, shiny; waiting to be responded to, which didn't take long. — "Pretty girl."

Yours lips, eagerly, came together in a sinful, appetizing and wet kiss; Kenji's sharp tongue rubbed and caressed your, wanting to taste your mouth, as if it were the first time. — Sometimes causing a shock of contact between your teeth and his, nothing could stop you. — Moans, coming from you, delighting in his mouth, were muffled and made Sato smile bewildered.

Kenji felt, even so apprehensive and focused on your mouth, his body being touched, covered by your hands, and, lightly, your nails scraped his skin, desperate to touch him. — He couldn't help but find it cute and naive the way your hand moved to the back of his neck, shocking your bodies even more. — Feeling himself throbbing more and more.

You would be the death of Kenji Sato. — That was another certainty that covered his mind.

Moaning during the mediocre fraction of a second in which your lips disconnected, feeling an emptiness, you came across thin and fragile strands of spit slowly breaking and you vibrated when you heard Sato's smug laugh; his eyes surrounded your mouth, wanting it again. — He smiled, forming a pretentious and ambitious expression as he brought his thumb to your chin, holding it.

"Ride me like a good girl," — Sato clicks his tongue, incoherent. — "my good girl." — Aa words, referring with a hint of possessiveness and premise, made your pussy throb with exultation. — "Please, huh?" — Your lover pouted, almost sounding mocking but not hiding the need he burned for you.

He didn't need to say it twice, he knew there would be no need, even though he saw some clouds of pleasure, leaving you completely at the mercy of the excitement, leaving you beautiful head. — And, also, it wasn't long before your legs were around Kenji's hips, grabbing them with the limited strength you had; abandoning the silky, white sheet somewhere on the mattress.

Settling down, adjusting his posture on the soft, padded pillow, hoping for a good view, Kenji couldn't help but adore the image before his eyes; you were deliciously mounted on him and comfortable on his lap, in your honored place and feeling deified. — It seemed like an inexplicable, surreal and reprehensible scene, it could be the taste of the paradise they prophesied. — No, you were Sato's own, true and only paradise.

Your body surrendered to him, precise movements, with a moderate, almost weak strength and still clouded with sleep, against the young prodigy's hips, feeling his entire length sink, preciously, into your sticky and hot walls; never getting used to the way you was filled by Kenji, — and, wanting, dirty, at no point to get used to it. — leaving you more stimulated. — When you felt him completely, your lips opened, moaning harmoniously and delightfully, attracting panting sighs in the name of your lover.

And, with your boobs, delicious and juicy boobs, exposed, wide open, which, according to your movements, swayed and shivered in front of Kenji, wanting to devour them with desire and modesty. — And not tolerating losing the delicious vision, he preferred to remain where he was; but, he didn't hesitate in sliding his hand towards one of them and squeezing it, now, tightly.

"Ken..ji." — You moaned, whimpered, moving your hand towards his, which held your nipple, unbearably, sensitive with his calloused fingers. — "Fuck-k!" — You sobbed, threatening to release tears from feeling all that pleasurable pressure in your system; and, feeling the lack of sustenance, with the other hand, you moved across Kenji's chest. — "Ken, Kenji..."

"Is it good, my love?" — He says, removing his hand from your boob and repositioning it on your waist, guiding your movements, noticing your almost exhausted rhythm, poor thing. — "Fucking good, huh?" — He growled when he noticed a sudden tightness in his cock; your pussy choked and sucked him, divinely, well. — "O-oh, look what we have here." — He laughed, digging his short nails into your flesh.

The sharp, thin lamentations and melodic moans vociferated in Sato's ears sounded like masterful music, stirring him with every descent and ascent that you made in his lap; also mentioning the wet, filthy melody that your pussy made while swallowing his cock. — Such a greedy, hungry, desperate little thing for every inch of him.

"Keep it up, kitten." — He swore, quickly guiding your hips and showed a satisfied and happy smile when he saw that you responded to his orders, winking shamelessly in your direction. — "I love filling this pussy, fuck…" — He breathed deeply, shaking with another grip on his dick. — "with my cum in the morning." — Listening to Kenji's filthy words was a sin.

It was blasphemous, unacceptable to be able to tolerate, endure, for so long, all that excitement, — all that infernal provocation coming from your man — and adequately endure the stings that reached, perfectly, your sensitive and delicate spot, which only Kenji knew how to reach. — And he took advantage of that.

With incandescent, burning pleasure replacing all sensations, reactions of your body, finally, that nervous, tingling thread, trapped in your stomach, breaks free; accompanied by a tearful and disoriented scream, crying out for Sato, coming out of your mouth. — Cumming on his cock, having some spasms around it, you feel weak, about to become weak. — Like a pathetic little doll.

"Baby." — Hot, delicious jets of sperm painted your inner walls, taking him to the limit, as always; cumming inside you, Kenji filled you, leaving you satisfied, sated and fulfilled. — Having the impression that, still sitting on his lap, you was leaking yours mixed releases, causing an appetizing mess. — "Holy shit." — Ken moaned softly, smiling bewildered and drunk for you.

Tilting your head to the side, merely acting in a naive and harmless way, still with a look of tiredness and exhaustion, a thin and innocent smile tugged at the corner of your lips; making you even more adorable, captivating.

"Good morning to you too, Ken."

Yeah, in fact, you were Kenji Sato's main weakness.

[solxamber]

1800-Curse-Control || Lilia Vanrouge

You decide to open a hotline for curing curses with Lilia. It goes exactly how you imagined it would—maybe even a little better.

“Lilia,” you said, rubbing your temples as you leaned against the counter in Ramshackle’s disaster of a kitchen. “Grim’s eating me out of house and home, literally. If I can’t afford the repairs soon, the roof will cave in. But all he cares about is premium tuna! Do you know how much that stuff costs?”

Lilia, who was casually floating upside down for no apparent reason, looked entirely too entertained. “Ah, the plight of a homeowner,” he said, grinning. “Why not turn your misfortune into opportunity? I’ve been told I have exceptional customer service skills, and I’ve been dreadfully bored. Let’s open a hotline for removing curses!”

You blinked at him. “A hotline. For curing curses.”

“Yes, my dear beastie,” he said, flipping upright midair and landing gracefully. “Think about it! This school is crawling with fools who drink unlabeled potions, poke magical artifacts, and anger vengeful spirits just for sport. You’d be rich in a week!”

“…I hate how much sense that actually makes.”

“It’s a foolproof plan,” Lilia continued, already pulling a notepad from somewhere to scribble down ideas. “I’ll handle the exorcisms and the cackling, naturally. You, my dear entrepreneur, can be the charming face of the operation. We’ll call it—hmm—‘Curse-B-Gone.’”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, ‘Hex Hotline.’”

You considered it. On one hand, it sounded completely ridiculous. On the other hand, there was that third-year who accidentally swapped his voice with a frog’s last week and the freshmen who kept mysteriously sprouting feathers.

“…How much are we charging?”

“Ah-ha! I knew you’d come around!” Lilia said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s see, we’ll need tiers. Minor hex removal? Hundred thaumarks. Major curses—hair-growing hexes, spontaneous transformation curses—those will start at Five Hundred.”

“And what about something, like, really bad? What if someone’s whole body turns into a pumpkin or something?”

“That’s a premium package. One thousand thaumarks.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay, I’m in. But if this flops, you’re buying Grim’s tuna for the next month.”

Lilia smirked, his fangs glinting mischievously. “Deal.”

By the end of the day, you’d set up a magical hotline using some weird orb Lilia “borrowed” from the library, a vaguely threatening poster campaign across the campus (“Cursed? Hexed? A jackal-headed god show up at your dorm? Call us!”), and a suspiciously well-stocked supply of anti-curse materials Lilia claimed were “leftovers” from his youth.

You weren’t sure whether to feel excited or like you’d just signed up for the most bizarre mistake of your life. Either way, you couldn’t wait to see how this would go down.

The orb hotline rang for the first time, glowing ominously on the rickety desk in Ramshackle. You and Lilia exchanged glances.

“Answer it!” he whispered, like this was some spy mission and not a cursed customer service line.

With a deep breath, you picked it up. “Uh… Hello, this is the Cursed and Confused Hotline. How can we—”

“YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Ace’s voice screamed on the other end. “HE’S GOING TO KILL ME THIS TIME!”

You winced, holding the orb away from your ear. “Ace? What happened?”

“I DON’T KNOW! I WAS JUST TRYING TO MAKE TEA!”

“Okay, and?”

“And I might’ve…accidentally used that weird sugar in the Heartslabyul pantry, the one that glows in the dark? And now Riddle’s head is covered in, like…peonies. Big, pink peonies. They keep growing whenever he gets mad, which, uh, is always.”

You slapped your forehead. “You cursed your housewarden?!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO!” Ace wailed. “I thought it was sugar, not cursed fertilizer! Look, can you just fix this before he declares ‘off with my head’ for real?”

“Ugh, fine. Where are you now?”

“Hiding in the rose bushes. He hasn’t found me yet, but I think I heard him sharpening a guillotine.”

“Classic Heartslabyul,” Lilia said cheerfully, already packing his so-called emergency kit.

When you and Lilia arrived at Heartslabyul, it was pure chaos. Riddle stood in the center of the garden, his face as red as his hair—and also half-obscured by an explosion of giant pink peonies blooming out of his head like some cursed bouquet.

“TREY!” Riddle bellowed. “GET THE GARDEN SHEARS!”

Ace was crouched in a rose bush nearby, whispering frantically. “Please tell me you brought an anti-cursed-flower spray or something!”

You ignored him and approached Riddle cautiously. “Uh, Riddle? You’ve got—”

“I KNOW WHAT I HAVE!” Riddle shrieked, a few more flowers blooming on his head. “I demand immediate remedy! Or else—”

“We’ll fix it,” Lilia cut in, grinning like this was the most fun he’d had in centuries. “Now, let’s see…” He pulled a vial of glowing liquid from his kit. “This should do the trick.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, eyeing the suspiciously fizzing vial.

“Of course not,” Lilia said, popping it open.

He dumped the liquid over Riddle’s head without warning. The flowers immediately shriveled up and disappeared.

Riddle blinked, touching his head in astonishment. “…It’s gone?”

“You’re welcome,” Lilia said with a dramatic bow.

Ace peeked out from the bushes. “So…he’s not mad anymore, right?”

Riddle’s death glare answered that question.

“RUN!” you yelled, dragging Ace out of the garden as Riddle shouted about punishment for “sugar crimes.”

Back at Ramshackle, you slumped against the desk. “We’re never doing house calls again.”

Lilia just laughed. “Oh, but the drama! I live for it!”

The hotline orb began glowing again, pulsing with a foreboding, bluish light.

You groaned. “If this is Ace again, I swear—”

Lilia waved his hand. “Come now, it’s probably another entertaining disaster! Answer it!”

You reluctantly picked up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What’s your—”

“FIX. THIS. NOW!” came Azul’s shrill, panicked voice.

You blinked. “Azul? What’s—”

“I CAN’T EVEN DESCRIBE WHAT HE’S DONE THIS TIME!”

“Oh, come on, Azul!” Floyd’s voice cut in, cackling in the background. “It’s a masterpiece!”

“Masterpiece?” Azul screeched. “You flooded the dining room and filled it with—WHY ARE THERE EELS IN THE SOUP POTS?”

“Because it’s hilarious!” Floyd howled, clearly having the time of his life.

Jade’s calm voice joined in, oozing politeness as always. “To be fair, Floyd has a point. The eels are thriving in there.”

Azul sputtered like a broken faucet. “THRIVING?! THEY’RE STEALING PEOPLE’S FOOD!”

“Sounds efficient to me,” Floyd said. You could practically hear him smirking. “Dinner and a show!”

Lilia perked up. “Eels in soup pots? How creative!”

“Don’t encourage him!” Azul barked. “Do you know how much it costs to repair the water damage he’s caused? The walls are dripping! The chandelier is dripping! I AM DRIPPING!”

“That’s not cursed,” you said, trying to hide your amusement. “That’s just Floyd being—well, Floyd.”

“Oh, no, it’s cursed,” Azul hissed. “Every time I try to remove the eels, the water level rises. They’re like aquatic squatters! Fix it or I swear I’ll—”

The sound of something massive splashing cut him off, followed by Floyd’s uncontrollable laughter.

“HAHAHA! He slipped into the soup pot! Jade, did you see that?”

“I did,” Jade replied, his voice as smooth as ever. “It was quite elegant.”

“AZUL’S AN EEL NOW!” Floyd cried. “Eel bros for life, baby!”

The orb started vibrating violently.

“Get. Over. Here. Now.” Azul’s voice was barely a whisper, the tone of someone seconds away from an aneurysm.

You sighed and grabbed your bag. “Let’s go before he implodes.”

When you arrived at Mostro Lounge, it was exactly what you expected—and somehow worse. The entire dining area was flooded, eels swam lazily in the soup pots, and Azul was perched on a chair, drenched from head to toe and glaring murderously at Floyd, who was happily paddling through the water like it was his personal playground.

“Finally!” Azul barked, waving his wet hand. “Do something! Anything!”

Floyd, half-submerged in a soup pot, waved at you. “Hey! You wanna join the eel party? First rule—no rules!”

Lilia clapped his hands. “This is magnificent chaos!”

Azul groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’ll double your pay if you fix this immediately.”

You glanced at Lilia, who was already pouring a suspiciously glowing liquid into the water.

“This should work,” he said cheerfully.

The water started to drain, the eels vanished in puffs of smoke, and the room returned to normal—except for Floyd, who now floated upside down in midair, spinning like a cursed top.

“Whoa, this is AWESOME!” Floyd laughed, twirling like a maniac. “I’m a flying eel!”

Azul sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as you said “I’m charging you extra for emotional damages.”

The hotline orb flared up again, casting a frantic purple glow. You groaned, mid-sip of tea.

“I don’t know if I can handle more insanity.”

Lilia, perched upside down on the couch, grinned. “Nonsense! Chaos keeps the heart young. Answer it!”

Reluctantly, you picked it up. “Cursed and Confused Hotline. What did you do, and how bad is it?”

“It’s me! It’s Epel!” came the desperate, whisper-shouted voice of the Pomefiore freshman. “I need your help—immediately! I’ve got the worst curse of all on me.”

“Worst curse?” you asked, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Vil,” Epel said, voice shaking. “And Rook.”

“...Epel, those are people, not curses.”

“They are when Vil finds out I repurposed his limited-edition face mask jars as apple cider mugs for the guys in Savanaclaw!”

Lilia burst into a delighted cackle. “Oh, that’s fantastic!”

“Not fantastic! Vil’s gonna flay me alive!” Epel hissed. “And Rook’s hunting me down like a rabbit in the woods. Please, ya gotta help!”

You tried not to laugh. “How exactly do you want me to help? I can’t exactly—”

A loud thud echoed through the call, followed by Epel screaming, “He found me! NO! PUT THAT BOW DOWN!”

“Bonjour, my friend~!” Rook’s voice came through, as smooth as velvet and disturbingly cheerful. “Ah, how beautiful the chase! Like a fox cornered by the hounds, our petit pomme has finally been found!”

“ROOK, NO! DON’T HAND ME OVER!”

“Oh, petit lapin,” Rook said, unbothered, “the punishment will only make you stronger. Think of it as a trial by fire!”

“I DON’T WANT TO BE STRONGER, I WANNA BE ALIVE!” Epel shrieked.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Rook, what exactly are you planning to do with him?”

“Ah, worry not,” Rook replied. “I am but a humble messenger delivering him to justice. Vil has been most patient.”

“HE CALLED ME A PEASANT AND THREW A HEEL AT ME, THAT’S PATIENT?” Epel howled.

Lilia leaned forward, thoroughly entertained. “Rook, at least let us have a word with Epel before he meets his doom.”

“But of course!”

“HELP ME!” Epel screamed the moment Rook handed him the phone. “Distract them, hex me, I dunno, CURSE ME INTO A TREE OR SOMETHING—”

“Epel,” you said firmly, trying not to laugh, “you’re going to have to face Vil eventually. What’s the worst he could do?”

“THE WORST? Oh, I dunno, exile me to a skincare bootcamp for the rest of my natural life?”

Rook’s voice floated in. “Imagine it, petit pomme: cleansing facials, detoxifying baths, and no more cider mugs. A new you!”

“YOU STAY OUTTA THIS!”

You sighed. “I can offer one thing.”

“Anything!”

“An apology. I suggest you start practicing now.”

“An apology?! I called Vil’s collection overhyped snake oil. I’m DOOMED!”

“Not if you run fast enough,” Rook chimed in cheerfully. “Shall we test your stamina?”

The call ended with Epel’s scream, followed by the distinct sound of someone bolting at full speed.

“Well,” Lilia said, smiling. “That was worth every second.”

Jamil’s voice crackled through the orb strained and absolutely done.

"Hi, yeah, it’s me again."

You rolled your eyes. "Let me guess. Kalim tried to throw a party?"

"And Cater," Jamil growled, the sound of something crashing in the background. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to manage one chaos gremlin? Now imagine two. They’ve cursed half the dorm—random objects are coming to life, and singing. And I don’t mean pleasant singing. I mean like if a banshee and a kazoo had a love child."

Lilia leaned in beside you, eyes glittering with delight. "Oho, this sounds entertaining! What did they do this time?"

Jamil sighed deeply, as if he’d just aged ten years in the past ten minutes. "Kalim thought it would be fun to 'spice up' a party by enchanting the decorations. Cater encouraged him, saying it would make a great Magicam post. The result? The curtains are now tap-dancing, the chandelier won’t stop singing old sea shanties, and the punch bowl tried to bite me."

Lilia clapped his hands. "This sounds like an excellent way to spend the afternoon! Let’s go!"

You groaned. "Why do I have to go?"

"Because you’re the only one who can keep Lilia from making things worse," Jamil deadpanned.

Arriving at Scarabia was like stepping into a fever dream. The furniture was waltzing around the room, the ceiling fan was chanting, "Spin me right round, baby, right round," and the aforementioned punch bowl snarled at you as you walked in.

Kalim, of course, was having the time of his life, clapping to the rhythm of the furniture parade. Cater was filming everything, laughing as he tried to get the chandelier to do a TikTok dance.

"Do you see what I have to deal with?" Jamil hissed, his hair practically frazzled.

"Let’s fix this before someone dies," you muttered, pulling out the anti-curse toolkit Lilia had handed you on the way.

"Or before someone posts this to Magicam and the entire world sees it," Jamil added grimly, glaring at Cater.

It started smoothly enough—well, as smoothly as any curse-breaking session with Lilia could go. The two of you worked to unravel the enchantments while dodging flying pillows and shrieking party streamers.

Then, of course, you made the mistake of touching an enchanted lamp.

It burst into song—loud, off-key, and somehow extremely personal. The lyrics were all about your lack of a love life and questionable fashion choices. Before you could fight back, it tangled itself around your arms and legs, dragging you upward toward the chandelier.

"Hey, uh, Lilia? Little help!"

Lilia, ever the dramatic savior, leaped into action. With a mischievous grin, he sliced through the magical binds with a well-aimed spell and caught you mid-fall.

You blinked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, his fangs showing in a victorious smirk. He cradled you with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible given his stature.

"You alright there, my dear?" he asked, voice low and teasing.

"Yeah, I’m fine," you muttered, face heating up. "Just…you know…trying not to die."

But your brain wasn’t focusing on that. It was too busy processing the fact that Lilia was holding you like you weighed nothing, and you could feel your pulse quickening. Damn it, why is my heart beating so fast?

He tilted his head, studying you with an unreadable expression. "Are you sure? Your face is a bit flushed."

"Nope! Totally fine!" you squeaked, scrambling out of his arms as soon as your feet touched the ground.

Jamil, watching the whole thing from across the room, rolled his eyes. "Great. Now you’re cursed too."

"Shut up, Jamil."

It took another hour, but the dorm was finally back to normal—or as normal as Scarabia could be. Kalim apologized profusely, Cater promised to delete the footage (he didn’t), and Jamil looked like he might snap at any moment.

As you and Lilia walked out, you tried to calm your racing heart, but he leaned in with a knowing grin.

"Quite the adventure today, wasn’t it?"

"Sure," you replied quickly, hoping your face wasn’t still red.

He hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder what’s got your heart racing so much. You’re not catching feelings for your favorite partner-in-chaos, are you?"

"Not a chance," you lied, your heart betraying you with another treacherous thump.

Lilia just chuckled, and you couldn’t tell if he believed you—or if he was just letting you stew in your own embarrassment for fun.

The enchanted orb buzzed frantically, and you groaned as you reached for it. The second you accepted the call, you heard Deuce.

“HELP! WE MESSED UP BAD!”

“Deuce?” you asked, already dreading the answer. “What did you do this time?”

Jack’s voice came through, exasperated and growly. “It wasn’t just him. I was there too.”

“Great,” you deadpanned. “So, what kind of mess am I cleaning up now?”

Deuce gulped. “We, uh… were practicing some spellwork for exams—”

“Right by the Spelldrive practice field,” Jack added grimly.

Your eyes widened. “Please don’t tell me you—”

“Destroyed the field? Yeah,” Deuce admitted miserably. “But we didn’t mean to! The explosion was an accident!”

You heard a sharp, angry voice in the background: “AN ACCIDENT?! YOU DESTROYED HALF THE FIELD, YOU LITTLE—”

“Leona’s there?” you asked, already standing up.

Deuce nodded frantically. “He’s so mad. Please come before he kills us!”

“Stay put,” you said, grabbing your things. “And pray he doesn’t finish you off before we get there.”

The Spelldrive practice field was a warzone. One goalpost was completely obliterated, sand smoldered in random patches across the ground, and an entire section of the bleachers looked like it had been hit by a tornado.

Leona was standing in the middle of the chaos, arms crossed, glaring daggers at Deuce and Jack, who were huddled behind a tipped-over bench like it could save them. His team stood a safe distance away, clearly too smart to get involved.

You arrived with Lilia in tow, who was already grinning like he’d just stumbled upon the most entertaining show of the year.

“Oh, this is delightful,” Lilia mused, surveying the carnage. “It’s like an abstract painting of destruction.”

“Not helping,” you muttered, jogging toward the scene.

Leona’s sharp green eyes locked onto you. “Finally. You gonna fix this mess, or do I get to turn these two into sandbags?”

“Leona,” you said, stepping between him and the disaster twins, “We’ll handle it. Just… don’t murder them. Yet.”

Leona snorted. “You’ve got five minutes.”

Lilia hummed a jaunty tune as he began waving his hands over the destroyed sections of the field. Slowly, the sand settled, the goalpost reformed, and the bleachers stopped looking like they’d gone through a blender.

Meanwhile, you kept Leona from pouncing on Deuce and Jack, who were watching Lilia work with wide eyes.

“You two better hope I don’t find out about another ‘accident,’” Leona growled, looming over you.

“Relax,” you said, holding up a hand. “They’re idiots, not criminals. Save your energy for your team.”

Leona rolled his eyes but stepped back, muttering something about “babysitters.”

When everything was finally back in order, Lilia dusted off his hands with a satisfied smile. “That was quite fun. We should let those two cause chaos more often.”

You shot him a look. “Please don’t encourage them.”

Leona, arms crossed and clearly annoyed, stepped closer. “You’re done? Good. I’ll send Ruggie with something to pay you later.” Then he smirked, eyes flicking between you and Lilia. “Now keep your lovesick asses away from my practice field.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Wha—?! Lovesick?”

Leona just walked off with a lazy wave, leaving you standing there, half-mortified.

Lilia leaned in, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Oh my. He really has a way with words, doesn’t he?”

“Don’t you start,” you muttered, your face burning.

But when you turned to walk away, Lilia was by your side, chuckling softly. He caught your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop for just a moment. “For what it’s worth,” he said, voice quieter and more serious, “you were quite impressive back there, keeping Leona from turning them into mincemeat.”

Your heart did a flip. “Uh… thanks?”

He let go with a grin, stepping back and returning to his usual playful tone. “Now, let’s see if we can avoid the next disaster, hmm?”

You weren’t sure if your face would ever cool down.

Potions class with the first-year gang was never uneventful. Today was no exception. The room smelled faintly of burnt caramel as Grim waved his tiny paws at Ace, who was leaning smugly on the table.

“I told you not to put that in!” Grim yelped.

“I barely touched it!” Ace shot back.

“It doesn’t matter who did it!” Sebek barked, slamming his hands on the table. “What matters is that our potion is—”

“About to blow,” Jack growled, pointing to the cauldron bubbling ominously.

“Wait—WHAT?!” you yelped, but it was too late.

The cauldron erupted, spraying a shimmering pink mist over everyone. The class erupted into chaos as Sebek shouted about “inferior techniques,” Epel coughed dramatically like he was dying, and Deuce tried (and failed) to douse the sparks with his coat.

You, unfortunately, caught the brunt of the potion to the face.

You thought the effects were mild at first—just a faint warmth in your chest and the echo of the sugary-sweet scent in your nose. But when you sat down at lunch with Lilia and Malleus, the symptoms became impossible to ignore.

Lilia was chatting animatedly, laughing at his own jokes and waving his fork in the air, while Malleus nodded thoughtfully. But you weren’t hearing a word.

Your brain had decided that the only thing worth focusing on was how kissable Lilia’s lips looked.

Wait, what?

You shook your head, trying to clear it, but it only got worse. Now you were noticing how nice his voice was. And his smile. And the way his hand brushed yours when he passed the salt—

Oh, no.

“Child of man,” Malleus said, pulling you from your internal meltdown, “you seem… distracted.”

You blinked rapidly. “Uh. Yeah. Distracted. Totally fine. Definitely not—uh—totally infatuated with Lilia or anything.”

Lilia looked up, smirking. “Oh? How flattering.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “IT’S THE POTION!”

Malleus watched you pace back and forth in the hallway, his expression somewhere between amused and curious.

“You have to fix me,” you begged, grabbing his shoulders. “This has to be the potion talking. There’s no way I just—randomly—started thinking about Lilia like that!”

Malleus tilted his head, his eyes studying you intently. “You truly believe you are under an enchantment?”

“Yes! Of course!” You gestured wildly. “I mean, it’s Lilia! He’s my partner in crime! He’s—he’s—”

“Kissable?” Malleus offered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Your hands dropped to your sides. “You are so not helping.”

He stepped closer, his presence calm but commanding, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Very well, child of man. Allow me to assess your condition.”

Malleus leaned forward, his magic swirling faintly around him as he studied you with eerie precision.

After a moment, he straightened, folding his arms. “The potion you were exposed to was a failure. Its intended effects are nonexistent.”

You froze. “What are you saying?”

Malleus raised an eyebrow. “I am saying that you are not under a spell. Your feelings are entirely your own.”

You stared at Malleus in horror.

“So… you’re telling me… I’m not cursed?”

“Precisely.”

“And this… this whole… wanting to kiss Lilia thing…” You paused, voice dropping to a mortified whisper. “That’s just me?”

Malleus nodded sagely. “Indeed.”

You covered your face with your hands. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

Lilia’s voice drifted from the next room. “Are you done conspiring with Malleus, beastie? Lunch is getting cold!”

You peeked through your fingers at Malleus, who looked like he was thoroughly enjoying your suffering.

“Good luck, child of man,” he said, patting your shoulder.

You groaned. “I’m going to die.”

And yet, as you returned to the table and sat down next to Lilia, who greeted you with his usual teasing grin, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

You didn’t think it could get any worse than being late for class, but that was before Grim decided to experiment with potions unsupervised. Now, you and Lilia were sprinting through the halls of NRC, dodging a cursed army of flying spoons.

“I told Grim not to use the potions lab as a snack bar!” you gasped, barely ducking as a spoon zoomed past your head with terrifying precision.

Lilia, running beside you, was grinning like this was the most fun he’d had all week. “I must admit, this is an impressive level of chaos. Even I wouldn’t have thought to curse cutlery!”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” you panted, grabbing his arm as another wave of spoons turned the corner. “Hide!”

The two of you dove behind a nearby tapestry, pressing against the wall as the spoons zipped past, their metallic clinking fading into the distance.

For a moment, it was quiet—except for the pounding of your heart.

Your breathing slowly steadied, but your heart didn’t. Not when Lilia was so close, his eyes gleaming with excitement and his cheeks flushed from the chase.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lilia,” you blurted, voice trembling but determined, “I’m in love with you.”

Lilia blinked, his surprise evident for a split second before a soft smile curved his lips. “Ah, I see. Was it the spoons that gave me away, or my undeniable charm?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m serious!”

He chuckled, gently pulling your hands away to meet your eyes. “So am I. I’ve felt the same for quite some time.”

Your breath hitched. “Really?”

“Really,” he murmured, leaning closer. His lips brushed yours, soft and fleeting, but it sent your heart racing like you were being chased by a thousand cursed spoons.

He pulled back, his grin mischievous. “Now, let’s survive this first date, shall we?”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you from your hiding spot just as the spoons began circling back like a swarm of metallic bees.

“Run!”

You laughed despite yourself, sprinting hand-in-hand with Lilia as the chaos erupted around you once more.

And yet, as you glanced at him—his hair wild, his smile unshakable, his fingers warm around yours—you couldn’t help but think:

I want this forever.

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