#last one has a touch of nsft

[ikemenomegas]

anon: do you think any of the omegas could be pregnant without knowing they're pregnant?

a/n: I had to look up whether this was a thing, turns out there's something called "cryptic pregnancy" where you don't know you're pregnant for at least half of the pregnancy. And certainly anyone can be pregnant for shorter periods of time without knowing about it, but this is the route I went.

Which Omegas who are most likely to have a cryptic pregnancy:

The ones most likely are those who are least attentive to their bodies, and those who often ignore symptoms

Suguru Muriel Erwin

Also:

Asra Yuta Haku Alucard

c/w: mpreg, pregnancy talk, varying levels of anxiety from the parties involved, mentions of oral sex and painful sex

Suguru

Even Monkeys Fall From Trees

Click

Clack

Clack

Suguru was standing in front of you with a turbulent expression in his eyes.

The pen in your hand was a baton you waved around, looking into your mate's eyes. "Yes?"

Clack

Normally you might tease him a little about the stubborn, pinched look about him, but you looked down at the things he was throwing on your desk.

Click clatter

Two more long sticks of plastic with a distinctive shape were tossed before your eyes. They hit one of the ones on the table already and flipped it over like a menko piece.

You looked back up at him, eyes wide. Two more sticks were clenched in his fist.

"How many of these did you take?"

Your chair scraped against the ground. With trembling fingers, you picked up one of the tests and then put it back down. You picked up another and then another.

How was this possible?

You came around the desk to Suguru's side and took the last two tests from his hand.

"This one isn't--"

"It's seven out of eight," Suguru said. "I've been doing them for a week. The evidence is pretty strong that it is."

"We've been so careful," you whispered, half to yourself.

Suguru's hand flexed as though he wanted to place it over his belly but couldn't bring himself to do so.

"What made you test it? You've been more tired lately, but you don't look very different."

He hesitated and then plucked one of the tests from the table. Two violet lines filled the result window.

"I felt something move."

You felt lightheaded. "Suguru, that's--"

He just looked at you from underneath his long dark lashes, golden gaze molten.

He'd missed his last heat, but they had become less regular as stress and curses piled up so neither of you had thought anything particular about it. There had been that brief bout of what you both had thought was stomach flu after he went to Kanagawa about four months ago.

"How far along are you?"

"I don't know."

Muriel

Animal Instinct

It was only exhaustion that kept you from running down the forest paths to Muriel's hut. Five months had been long enough, no need to start off your reunion with your omega by face-planting in the the dirt or breaking your ankle.

He had sent Inanna with you and she also panted at your side. She would trot ahead and wait for you, or disappear only to slink back to your side and press her wet nose to your palm.

"I know, we're almost home."

Inanna gave an answering growl, low and friendly, and pressed against your leg before pulling away again.

The hut came into view all at once through a gap in the trees and your heart leapt at the thought of Muriel, of home.

Inanna gave a high pitched yelping back and the door was open, Muriel ducking through it, before you even made it past the protective charms.

Your omega caught you up in his arms, lifted you like you weighed nothing, drew you to him and buried his face in your neck. He kissed you and when he looked at you, his eyes were unguarded.

Despite your long absence, it did not take long to get settled back in. The shop was kept in its usual organized chaos, the hut in its close warmth. A few more trinkets went up on the carved shelves, and Muriel was shoving an awful lot of blankets to your side of the bed whenever you laid down to read or take a nap, but things were gradually descending into the ordered chaos of being back where you belonged.

Except Inanna wouldn't sit still.

Usually she sat by the fire or crept about in the brush, ears always angled towards Muriel or you. Content to be close, but comfortable to be far. Even though she was a familiar, she was still an animal, and you'd expected it to take a few days for her to be comfortable being much distance from Muriel.

It was much longer than days, and she's not comfortable with any distance at all.

She wines and paws at Muriel and she's giving you reproachful almost like she did when you first arrived at the clearing. She keeps bringing carefully killed game to the hut and won't leave you alone until you cook it up, and unless Muriel eats some, she won't touch it. When you trace the line of hair leading down Muriel's belly, she barks, high and sharp, and then sulks something terrible when you both start to fuss over her.

You're at the shop for tea and mention it to Asra when you're coaxing the fire salamander awake.

"It's very odd behavior for her, although Muriel's being a good sport about it. He never minds it, but it's making me worry if there's going to be an earthquake or something. Have Malak or Faust been acting oddly?"

Asra shook his head. "Nothing here. Although, Malak's not really the best indicator of danger."

That made you laugh, remembering the catastrophic squawking you'd briefly heard from him during Lucio's coup.

"It's not the hut. We checked for termites and patrolled the forest, and everything's as safe as it gets out there."

"Are either of you feeling under the weather?" Asra gathered the mugs onto a tray and shooed you up the stairs to the rooftop with the kettle in your hand.

"I don't think so? At least I feel fine and she wasn't like this when we were traveling. Maybe we should check Muriel though."

"Check what?" he asked, handing you and then Asra out of the steep staircase and into the garden. From this high across a good portion of the neighborhood was visible before buildings started to get tall again.

"Are you feeling okay? You hardly ever tell me if you're sick. Asra thought maybe Inanna could tell something we couldn't."

Muriel looked at where the familiar in question was laying her head on her paws, watching him closely.

"I'm feeling fine, I think," he said.

Muriel and Asra exchanged one of their silent looks over your head when you started to arrange the tea tray. Asra began tracing a sigil in the air, purple and white sparks falling into place and casting their light over your mate.

It was several long moments before the diagnostic spell was complete and several more as Asra's magic gently inquired into the state of Muriel's body.

You saw it, the moment Asra's eyes went wide.

"What is it?"

"Are you sure that you've been feeling alright? No nausea, dizziness? Heaviness, maybe?"

"Asra, what's going on?" The fading but ever present fear of the plague or something like it propelled you from your chair, a hand going to your mate's shoulder.

Muriel looked up at his old friend warily and reached up to place his warm hand on yours. "Nothing that seemed out of place. Is there something that worries you?"

Asra laughed, light and joyful. "No, Muriel. We're going to be very busy in the next few months, but I'm not worried. How could I be when I'm going to be a godfather?"

You and Muriel looked at one another with matching shock.

Erwin

Whippoorwill (includes nsft)

*the world map of snk is apparently our world map turned upside down and backwards, which... makes Paradis island into Madacascar -_- but almost like England weather wise. I think it's a coward's move to assume Paradis is northern hemisphere, so I hc that just as things are "reversed" in the Arcana setting, the same is true here

Spending a sabbatical in a 1500 year old villa was not what you had expected when you had sealed your bond with Erwin. It was, however, a very nice perk.

With a cup of something warm on the table, a stack of papers to read, a fragrant breeze, and your mate, shirtless and lightly glistening with the evidence of his morning exertions jogging in the direction of your balcony, it was perfect.

You put down your papers and leaned your head on the railing, shamelessly ogling. He'd left before you were properly awake when the morning was still dim so you hadn't seen him leave, which seemed a great oversight. Your mate was shirtless and wearing a pair of those fancy exercise pants he liked, which were thin enough to cling to every muscular contour of his shapely thighs.

He'd been somewhat sensitive to the warmer northern summers and taken to wearing linens or simply less whenever he could. Not that you were complaining.

Being at the villa also seemed to be doing something to his libido. You decided to worship your mate's strong shoulders and delectable behind the next time, which you did not expect to be long in coming.

"You're drooling," a voice said.

Erwin's friend dropped onto one of the deck chairs, rubbing the dome of his stomach. Levi and his Alpha had joined you two for a much needed break a few days ago, and you were a little concerned that they were going have the baby while on holiday.

You looked at him, amused. "Isn't that my right?"

Erwin was coming up the stairs, pulling the towel you'd set on the railing over his shoulders.

"Beautiful omega," you crooned in his direction, smirking at Levi's disgusted scoff.

Erwin bent to press his lips to yours, his hand on the back of your neck.

You hummed into it, smiling. His scent was thick around you, his skin radiating warmth. Forget waiting for him to initiate. You must just ask yourself if you could take him for a little tumble before he showered.

Levi's alpha emerged on the terrace with a pair of porcelain cups and just smirked knowingly as you tugged Erwin through the door with you. The sound of their conversation with Levi faded quickly into the background.

"Should we try for one?" you murmured, padding with your mate across the cool tile towards your room. You'd talked about it before, but the interaction with Levi had put the image of Erwin with his toned stomach rounding out with your child in your mind. You knew pregnancy came with hardships, but the image had you suddenly looking forward to it.

Erwin's hand radiated warmth in yours, keeping the chill away, and you were already imagining that shared heat in bed.

"Why not?" Erwin's ice blue eyes were entirely focused on you. It pulled shivers up and down your spine.

You pulled your fingers through his hair. Strands were already falling onto his forehead after his run. It never failed to entice you, seeing him undone.

He pulled you towards the bed falling back onto it when his knees hit the edge. You could smell his arousal as he spread his legs and leaned back, smiling at the ceiling. You tugged on the cuffs of his pants as he refused to help, dragging them down until you could pull them off entirely and throw them onto a nearby chair.

Erwin propped one leg up, exposing his hole, already glistening with slick, but you took your time, pressing your lips to his knee and the inside of his thigh until his burning gaze threatened to consume you.

Still you skipped over where he clearly wanted you, pinning his body below yours and making no effort to direct the prod of your cock.

"Ask me," you said the words low in your chest voice, rumbling and teasing, catching his lips in a kiss.

You leaned over him, pressing your palms on either side of him. His hands came up to your sides, fingers rubbing circles into your hips as you began sucking marks down his chest. He groaned as you hit a particularly sensitive spot below his left nipple and you sucked harder, intending for the mark to bruise, and feeling rewarded by the new wave of arousal that wafted up.

You slid back down until your knees were on the floor, fingers digging into Erwin's hips. He shivered beautifully when you licked from the lowest edge of his hole to the tip of his flushed cock. You teased the edges of him with your fingers, while you sucked the tip of him, pulling him ever so slowly into your mouth, eyes flickering up to see his head fall back against the mattress.

You fingers went in easily, two at once, sliding into him and stroking gently at his walls. You hollowed your cheeks and swallowed him in deeper and moved your fingers until you were pressing upwards in time with the movements of your mouth.

A long drawn-out moan was your reward, as well as your omega reaching for your hand, which you happily provided, twining your fingers together and groaning your name.

"Do it. Let's do it. Let's have a baby."

You'd been together for years now and you knew what he liked, what could make him pant with pleasure, as when you flexed your wrist and pressed your fingers more fully inside of him, or when you growled around his cock, the vibrations moving through him.

You also knew when the sound he made was not a gasp of pleasure but of pain. Immediately you eased off of his cock and stopped moving your fingers. He was clenching tight around you, but his teeth were gritted and your mate was breathing carefully through his nose.

"Sorry," you murmured, rubbing circles on his abdomen to try and ease the cramps. "You're okay."

He made another pained sound when you tried to pull out, "Wait."

"Of course." You made soothing noises low in your chest, crooning meant to calm an omega and massaged Erwin's lower belly.

The flush was quickly leaving his cheeks and soon you were able to pull your hand free of him.

Erwin gave a murmured assent when you asked if he was alright if you helped clean him up. You rinsed off your own hand and quickly brought a soft warm cloth to your mate. The cramping seemed to have passed as you carefully swiped the cloth over his hole and then his cock, but you still placed another warmed towel over his stomach while you finished cleaning up.

He was sitting at the headboard, propped up on the pillows there when you returned. He turned and pressed his forehead to your breastbone when you settled in beside him, fingers carding through his sweat-dampened hair.

"Sorry."

"It's nothing for you to apologize for," you assured him.

"Let's try again some other time," he said quietly. "Maybe during my heat it won't be so bad."

"It shouldn't hurt at all," you reminded him.

"Hmm." He turned his body and drew his knees up so he was curled next to your body.

"When is your next heat? We should see someone before then."

There was a heavy pause. The cramps had been happening sporadically for a little more than a month now, and you'd been pushing Erwin to see a doctor. He'd wanted to wait until after the move to the villa, and then until things became less busy, and then until after his friends had visited, but it had been something you'd kept a worried eye on.

"I'm late," he finally admitted. "It was supposed to happen last week, before we had visitors."

"Darling, why didn't you say anything?"

"It happens somtimes, with omegas" he said patiently. "It's not a big deal."

You nuzzled into the top of his head. All you could do was trust him.

"Do you think you could eat something?" you asked, after a moment. "I know not everything has entirely agreed with you, but you did go for a run this morning."

"In a bit," he said, pulling you closer.

You scented him gently, running your hands up and down over his shoulders and his side. He made an irritated sound and you felt the sudden tightness in his back as another cramp rippled through your mate.

You massaged it out the best you could, pressing the heel of your palm into his lower back and rubbing more gently over the hard planes of his stomach.

You didn't know what was going on, but it worried you.

*unfortunately, like a lot of people i find reference photos on pinterest. disclaimer, i do not own these pictures, i also do not know who does or where they come from (with exception for Muriel's being an in-game postcard). If you need me to take down the photos because you own them or the style inconsistency is driving you as nuts as its driving me, please message me and I will do so.

#alpha!reader #omega!character #omegaverse #io.omegas #mpreg #Omega!Getou Suguru x Alpha!Reader #getou suguru x reader #omega!suguru #omega!muriel #muriel x reader #omega!muriel x alpha!reader #omega!erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #omega!erwin #jjk #the arcana #snk #last one has a touch of nsft #headcanon prompt #super not happy with the photos i found #of course you can't expect art consistency over three fandoms #and i can't draw that well so this is what it is #again i'm sorry the suguru one is so short #he's sometimes very easy for me to write for #as in i don't feel he needs a lot of explaining or other context to understand him #he's pretty transparent around the people he cares about #even when his thoughts are layered they usually revolve around one or two problems he's having

[shibaraki]

AN OBSERVER OF LONGING ┊ IWAIZUMI HAJIME

synopsis: with a few days remaining, the five of you run from Tooru and Hajime's impending departure for a little longer—and tackle some unearthed feelings along the way.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader, childhood best friends to lovers, romantic + sexual tension, mutual pining, a lot of casual physical affection, sharing a bed, angst + fluff, masturbation, festivals, alcohol consumption (everyone) + smoking (makki), yay love confessions, emotional hurt/comfort, eventual smut, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (reader rec.)

wc: 18K

↳ written in three days while in my feels and on new medication: for the komorebi collab hosted by yours truly lmao ↰

Like most impulsive plans it stemmed from a tipsy throwaway comment. Ruddy cheeks, the warm, honey tinge of whiskey on his breath, Hajime’s lips came loose. 

“We should go somewhere together,” he’d said, ensconced by the booth cushions. Your gaze met meaningfully across the table, half lidded and dopey. Even as Issei’s arm wrestled its way around his neck and jostled him, wrangled him closer with the promise of teasing, Hajime had not looked away from you. 

“Oh! Let’s rent a little bus, like in the movies. That’s a cute idea,” Tooru enthused, inflection slurred by the warmth of his liquor. “Hajime, who knew you could be so cute?”

“Hajime has always been cute,” Issei drawled, eyes gleaming as his knuckles successfully rub back and forth over Hajime’s skull, even as the man squirms against it. “But you’re both leaving again soon. We can’t go far, or for long”.

It had been pure luck that Tooru and Hajime managed to synchronise their brief visit home in the first place. You think that they might’ve even conspired to match their flight times as close as humanly possible, just so they could find one another in the airport upon arrival. 

“Now look. Poor ‘kawa,” Takahiro strummed his finger over Tooru’s puckered bottom lip, pink and plush as it bounces back. “Quick. Tell him he’s cuter before he starts crying”. 

And the drink-addled idea passed. You, however, let the thought marinate in the morning that followed. Knowing that it was Hajime who suggested it felt significant. He’s the quiet sentimental type. With both his and Tooru’s upcoming departures you had fully expected to be inundated with their company—savouring the remaining time you had left, never quite touching on the topic, still too tender for the three of you. It surprised you. A trip felt final. Another last hurrah. The tying of loose ends, to separate on a good note. 

Ultimately you decided to forward a link to an article detailing different overnight itineraries and festivals to the group chat with hopes of bringing it to fruition. Now you found yourself standing beside Hajime’s car under an early eventide in a pair of old sweatpants too long at the ankle and listening to them bicker, wondering why you ever got the ball rolling. 

Phone, check. Keys, check. ID, check. Wallet, check. Overnight bag—

You glare down at the offending object propped on the ground beside your feet. A good twenty minutes of your frantic afternoon had been spent trying to zip the thing shut. Check.

“But Hajime, the otter cafe!”

Tooru yelps, and you glance up in time to watch as Iwaizumi jostles and loosens his grip, “No. We don’t have time. We’re sticking to the plan".

“Are those even ethical?” Issei wonders under his breath, bending at your side to lift the case and ignoring your weak protests. It’s handed off to Hajime with ease, and you allow yourself a brief appreciative glimpse of the muscle flexing under his fitted shirt. 

You shake your head, full of mirth as you call to him, “Tooru”.

The sinking sun is crowning his head in a dewy flare. Tooru looks up from Hajime’s back and the halo slips, highlighting the hidden wispy strands of ginger by his temples. Balmed lips pouted, his brow arched in question.

“Stop fussing and sit with me”. 

The curiosity smooths out and he looks increasingly pleased at the request. It lasts a few sweet moments, broken by the smug uptick of his mouth. Tooru grins, “Of course you want to sit next to me. I’m your favourite after all”. 

Years of repetitive back and forth taught you that arguing that point was futile. With a fond eye roll, you reach across in his approach to pinch at his bicep. “Just get in the car before I change my mind,” you say. 

You duck in to sit beside Tooru as he scrambles for the window seat. Hajime is angled toward you while he fiddles with the centre console, a muscled arm wrapped around the headrest, deliberately waiting for you to meet his gaze. When you do, he mouths the words, “Thank you”. 

From the minute you met there’d always been something there. Maybe it was pheromonic, the way you know something is right the instant you find it; or maybe it was the chubby, six year old hands that plucked the cicada shell from your hair one summer morning. Presque vu, years spent waiting on the tip of your tongue. It doesn’t escape you that this might be the last chance to do anything about it. 

You’re shaken from your reverie when the car rocks on its axles. Issei throws himself into the far right passenger seat beside you with a heavy sigh. Broad shoulders push you closer into Tooru, thighs pressed together and feet parted awkwardly on either side of the rear suspension. 

Takahiro excitedly clambers in the front with an energy drink in hand, uncapped, earning an indignant shout from Hajime when he slams the door with too much force. 

“Oi—!” 

You grin as he struggles to dodge Hajime’s successive smacks. “Alright, alright! I’m sorry, be nice!” 

“I told you already, it's my dad’s car. That means no tracking dirt, no spilling anything, and no smoking inside. Capiche?”

“Aye-aye,” Issei drones, knuckles grazing your hip where he fastens his seatbelt. There is little space, yet it is oddly comforting. Tooru snorts, slumping until a head of unkempt brown hair rests heavily against your shoulder, tilting briefly to nuzzle your jaw. 

The radio switches on automatically as the engine starts, an initial splutter tapering off into a gentle hum. You reciprocate Tooru’s affection and rub your cheek over his crown, inhaling the familiar scent of coconut milk shampoo. He takes your weight without complaint, and when Issei leans forward to receive a sip of Takahiro’s energy drink, your knees knock together. 

Hakone was the chosen destination, thanks to a local festival taking place tomorrow. Of the five of you, Hajime is the best driver in terms of navigation and road knowledge. Issei is a close second. Both Tooru and Takahiro got their licences for the sake of convenience, but you doubt they could make their way around a clockwise roundabout without crying. 

Takahiro whoops, his hand thudding in line with the beat on the car roof, “Road trip, baby!” 

The scenery becomes less and less familiar, turning onto streets you do not recognise. Heading west out of Tokyo toward the Chuo Expressway, it isn’t until a passenger window is opened and a gust billows into the car that you shake the final dregs of sleep. Tooru’s hair is whipping in the wind as Hajime reaches for the radio and switches channels, bass vibrating through the speakers. 

Reality sets in like a slow simmer and excitement buzzes under your skin as the giddiness swells. You lean forward, cheek squashed unflatteringly to the back of the driver's seat, and paw at Hajime’s arm. 

“Turn it up, Haji”. 

Above the road ahead is a large blue sign detailing directions to Lake Kawaguchi—a purposeful detour, for the sake of acting like tourists. There’s a spot with a perfect view of Mount Fuji. Despite having lived only a forty minute ride from Tokyo, you can’t say you’d ever thought to look at it outside of a postcard. 

It’s nice to step into the shoes of another. View the country through a less acclimated lense. You’re taken through winding roads that thread between verdant mountains; entrenched by nature, only to be thrown out into the open as the foliage breaks. 

Lake Kawaguchi greets you brightly, the sunset surface glittering across a vast horizon. You are yelling harmoniously with Takahiro as it comes into view. Issei’s phone is already pressed against the window, scenery rolling across the camera screen as he repeatedly taps his thumb to recalibrate the focus. 

“I can hear you laughing at me,” he casts a suspicious look over his shoulder. 

You grin, “You’re such an old man”. 

“We’ll park just up here. There’s a good spot for pictures down by the bank,” Hajime says, the heel of his hand flat to the wheel as it turns left. “Not too far to walk. Pretty sure there’s a cafe just nearby, too”. 

You watch his reflection in the rear view mirror, admiring the soft crinkles by his eyes. His mouth isn’t visible but you know he’s smiling. Issei bumps his knee into yours—again. Simultaneously, Tooru bends make quiet kissing noises against your ear. Swatting them isn’t justice enough, and threatening to throw them out of the moving vehicle only makes them snicker. 

The car park is entirely deserted and unmonitored, surrounded by brush. No line markings or need for payment, just a part of the ground carved out and filled with gravel that crunches beneath the tires as it displaces. Cruising toward the far end of the lot, Hajime chooses the spot right by an old staircase that appears to lead down the bank. 

He pulls the handbrake with a resounding click and shuts off the engine. Comfortable silence befalls you as the radio cuts out. Soft, muted chirps rippled throughout the treeline, and as Issei popped open his car door, those first few notes bloomed into many more.

You climb out and step onto the uneven ground, the crisp air pinching the tips of your ears. You reach up and rub at them, running your palms over your cheeks in hopes of warmth. It isn’t cold—just refreshing. Cool enough to feel it in your sinuses when you breathe. 

“Come on,” Tooru whines. He’s already stood by the railing, weight shifting restlessly between his feet. You smile at the bounce of his hair, frame outlined in darkening sunlight, breaking through the curls like a canopy. 

An arm snakes loosely around your back and Hajime pulls you into his embrace. You fall in line with him, his pace purposefully slowed to remain at your side. He guides you forward, and once you’re close enough, the others begin to descend the staircase. 

You hear Issei whistle. Glancing up from the final step, you’re met with a watercolour come to life. Open skies, there lay smudges of orange, red and pink. No telling up from down. The surface of the lake is completely still, reflecting a perfect mirror view of Mount Fuji. 

“Wow,” you murmur, breathless. Hajime hums in agreement, awe bleeding into the sound. Tooru is crouched near the water, struck with wonder, idly swirling his fingertips over the surface as Takahiro and Issei station either side of him, the pair deep in thought. 

Dragging your eyes from the picturesque view, you take in the emotion on Hajime’s face. People always claimed him to be intimidating—he could be, without question. But to you, Hajime was made up entirely of soft lines, deliberate kindness and telegraphed movements, as though he were a gentle giant, despite being the shortest of the four players. 

He still carries some chub in his cheeks. You know, because you’re often inundated with the urge to pinch at it. This is your Hajime, the one you’ve always known; only now there’s stubble lining his jaw. 

“It’s grown back again already,” you comment sotto voce, careful not to disturb the pensive atmosphere that has settled by the lakes edge. “You really are a big boy now”.  

“It’s annoying”. 

“Looks good though,” you muse. “Kinda rugged. I like it”. 

His throat flexes as he swallows, hand coming up to itch his jawline, and you try not to stare. It’s always so easy to turn him pink. “You do?” 

Too much, you think, poking the swell of his cheek in lieu of a response. It yields under the pressure, and as he smiles it takes on the appearance of a dimple. 

Casual affection was second nature, now. You found yourself thankful for the excuse to touch, and knowing that he’ll be leaving soon has emboldened you somewhat. All those years ago you’d preemptively decided that crossing the threshold would lead to rejection, but the initial borders defining your relationship have long since blurred, and it’s hard not to wonder where you truly stand. If you got it right.

“Guys,” Takahiro demands your attention, hand cupped by his mouth with a lit cigarette held precariously between his fingers. The other is in the air waving his phone back and forth. “We’re here to marvel at the miracles of mother nature, not each other!”

You step out of Hajime’s embrace, disguising your reluctance. 

Joining their lanky huddle rewards you with a chorus of cheers as Tooru latches on to your back and props his chin atop your shoulder. He flashes an effortless peace sign. The others attempt to fit themselves into the frame mirrored on Hanamaki’s phone screen, an iridescent crack running from one corner to the other, Mount Fuji’s blushing snowy peaks crowning your heads. 

“You really gotta get that fixed,” you hear someone say. Their voice is muffled, as if they’d been talking with their lips closed, and one glimpse finds Issei trying resolutely to keep his posed smirk in place. Your own mouth flattens into a thin line to keep yourself from laughing. 

The camera shutters.

You groan, “I wasn’t ready for that one”. 

A few more are taken and sent to the group chat, eyes on you while you set a particularly sweet one as your wallpaper. Crowing with delight, you find yourself surrounded by bodies and squeezed in a firm group hug. 

“Alright, alright,” you huff. The discomfort stems more from the insistent, cramping sensation in your stomach. Your smaller hands meet a hard, muscled abdomen, pushing fruitlessly. Neither man budges. If anything, your resistance only encourages them to coil tighter. “You’re all too heavy. Get off!” 

They relent, but only at the sound of your gut rumbling. “Hungry?” Hajime asks. The sheathing sun reflects in his irises, burning bright, verdant green, as though he were part of spring itself; soft in apology.

“Food is that way,” Issei points out. “Looks like it’s open. Maybe”. 

There’s a stout, cosy structure further along, tucked atop the edge of a hill and half hidden by a cradle of Japanese maple. If you squint you could make out the moving silhouettes inside. 

Tooru cranes his neck, lips comically pursed as he looks toward the cafe. “It’s pretty romantic. If we have Hajime get on one knee out here for a picture, think they’ll give us a free meal?” 

Hajime shoves him half heartedly and clicks his tongue, “Why me? Do it yourself”. 

You watch as they share a long, unspoken moment, conversing without words. Tooru offers him a scathing look, one of total incredulity and that alone is enough to break the suspension. Hajime juts his chin in the opposite direction and turns his back, beginning a stiff march toward the cafe. 

“What was that all about?” 

“He’s so bullheaded,” Tooru muses, knuckles rapping gently to your skull as he passes. When you are offered nothing but a fond laugh in the face of your confusion, you stalk off after them. 

Petulance has you speeding ahead of the group, further picking up the pace at the sound of hurried feet. The natural instinct to run nips at your heels. As the earth begins to incline upward and your strides broaden, there’s a burn in the back of your thighs that Takahiro seems to have no issue with, if his sudden sprint ahead has anything to say about it. 

“Last one there has to pay!” 

“Bastard,” Issei hollers from the back, refusing to run and carried by his heavy gait. “Just because you’re unemployed!” 

Your lungs are burning with the exertion, laughter coming in short bursts. Issei remains in last, Tooru second, Hajime fourth. From the terrace, Takahiro pieces his thumb and forefinger together into the shape of a heart, nowhere close to apologetic. “Buy me something and I’ll give you a big wet kiss,” he returned in a singsong voice.

Issei lumbers through the gate, movements broad and slow. His brow arches, Takahiro immediately losing bravado. “You’d do that for free”. 

“Get me out of here,” Hajime mutters. “Kill me”.

You take pity on him and herd them all through the doors, “Less flirting and more pastries, please”. 

Inside is painted in rich deep browns. The fresh air weaves well with the aroma of freshly baked goods. You breathe it in, your hands dancing over shelves sparsely stocked with baskets of flatbread, loaves and cakes. While quaint, the ceilings are high, held up by large beams on which decorative lights and plants are carefully draped. 

You feel slightly awkward and out of place in your shabby old sweatpants. A calming melody is playing overhead. Soft spoken voices belonging to the few employees and fewer patrons encourage you to lower your own into a whisper. 

Hajime subtly leans down to listen as you say, “I think we should get our food to go”. 

He hides his amusement against your shoulder and you accept the brief weight with a grin. Then you feel him nod in agreement. 

Issei holds his hand out when you reach the counter. There are already multiple paper bags tucked under his arm. “Give me the goods before I change my mind,” he says, exasperation set plain on his face. 

“Thank you Issei,” you recite like a child, pressing two sweet rolls shaped like a cornet into his palm. Hajime chooses comfort—curry bread. Shared on countless late night walks home; the memories stir something melancholic deep within your chest that you’d rather not examine right now. 

Your initial concern about being out of place were not entirely unfounded. The employee behind the register greets your group kindly enough, and her smile is genuine, but you cannot ignore how her eyes seem to flicker back and forth to the disgruntled customers seated by the terrace. 

If you had to guess, they were regulars. Retired elders that lived nearby and had the privilege to spend their evenings here. Though irritating, you are honest enough to admit that your gaggle of idiots would certainly fracture this place’s peaceful ambiance. So Issei pays, feigning nonchalance at the long, wet kiss Takahiro leaves on his cheek, and you trudge back to the car with food in hand.

Tooru ambles around to the front passenger seat, hip checking Takahiro toward the back where he previously sat. You knew he might do this at some point during the trip. Eating before a car ride made him prone to nausea, and since he was young he’d claimed sitting in the front helped. Anpan held between his teeth, Tooru peers at you through the headrests and smiles with his eyes, entirely too pleased. 

Takahiro nudges your side as he clambers in. Lifting your hips, he buckles the seatbelt, and soon after you are half-draped over his lap to allow Issei to do the same. You glare at him as he wiggles his eyebrows, stopping short when he flashes you his phone. There’s a picture, this time of you and Hajime at the lake curled into each other; you’re cradled by his arms, and he by the mountainside, entirely in your own world. 

You relent, “Send me it”. 

“As I thought,” he mutters smugly. 

The lake is rarely out of view. Heading south to Hakone, the road hugs the water for most of the journey. Tooru connects his carefully curated road trip playlist to the speakers and the car swells with an old city jpop song. You pick at your sweet rolls, barely humming along; choking on feelings left to fester in your throat, unacknowledged and unspoken. 

You remember the day they told you their goals for the future. Plans to leave. Together, across from you, hands wrung in their laps. Grief filled your body like lead, and you recall thinking to yourself, half-hysterically, ‘How can I do this alone?’

That was a time in your life you couldn’t imagine a world without Tooru or Hajime in it. Day in, day out, seasons passed side by side. Three small stars converging on the same path. It never needed to be clarified—all plans were made with the tacit promise of being together. The unwillingness to part pulled even your families along and you were hard pressed to recall a first New Year shrine visit without their relatives present. Until they decided to leave. 

It’s loneliness tinged with a smidgen of guilt. You’re not truly alone. Issei and Takahiro are some of your best friends, and they weren’t going anywhere far anytime soon. Still, you can’t help but brace for the ways your orbit will further unfurl in Hajime and Tooru’s absence when they return to their lives.

Hakone is a town tucked away in the shadow of Fuji-Hakone-Izu national park. Long, mountainous roads lead you toward an expanding vista. Faces sun drenched in varying hues of red maple, pink blossom and youthful green. The next hour and a half passes in the blink of an eye and the destination closes in. You angle your head, stretching across Takahiro’s lap and squinting up to make out the shape of ropeways cutting across the burgeoning sky. Tiny, far off carriers glide along the cables. 

Something about it compels everyone to stop and take a breath. You lapse into pleasant silence. The car slows to cruise through the busy streets, music lowered into a faint buzz. It is larger than life. 

While advertised as a quaint getaway from the chaotic, fast paced lifestyle of Tokyo, in actuality Hakone is made up of seven separate villages, each with its own distinct history. Lush hills crowned with cumulus clouds of smoke from the hot springs; young families standing beneath grand, crimson painted torii gates; vendors sheltered from the sun by conical straw hats tied beneath their chins with silk. 

To get to Gora, you must first cut through Yumoto—a lively, compact area lined with shops and restaurants that have attracted an uncomfortable amount of foot traffic. Hajime drives with his body strung tight, knuckles losing colour as yet another tourist almost walks out in front of his car. 

“Almost there, man,” Issei offers sympathetically.

Hajime grunts, “Don’t talk to me”. 

Tooru is too preoccupied with taking pictures to notice his best friend's struggles. The small noises of awe only seem to push Hajime’s shoulders higher. You have to duck away from the rear view mirror and bite your inner cheek so as not to laugh.   

Eventually, the place you’ll be staying at comes into view. You all release a collective sigh of relief. The modernised ryokan is much larger than most family run facilities. It sits conspicuously on the end of a private road, concealed by forest and threadbare canopy that casts shadows across the windshield as the car pulls in, sliding effortlessly into one of the empty spaces. 

Four staff members adorning pastel yukata’s greet you by the wide genkan with a deep bow. The woman standing behind the reception desk mirrors them when she meets your eye. You’re offered a pair of new grey slippers and gently ushered out into the lobby with your outdoor shoes in hand while Hajime heads to check in. 

When he rejoins the group his expression is distinctly uncomfortable and pinched in a way you recognise as embarrassment.

“There’s been a mix up with the room—suite, I guess,” Hajime admits. Hesitant, his gaze drags up from the floor to where you’re standing beside him. “I showed her the booking but no dice. We’re stuck with a tatami room and bathroom, but she promised there’d be enough futons to roll out”. 

While it was last minute they’d all designated tasks to each other, and his task had been booking accommodations. Having expressed that he would make the effort to get you your own room for the sake of privacy and comfortability, despite your protests, you understood his immediate reaction. Letting people down—at least, his own arbitrary idea of it—never sat right with Hajime. 

“Let me go talk to her, Iwa-chan. I might even charm her into giving us some extra amenities,” Tooru grins wolfishly, already fiddling with the cuffs of his sweater. Faint freckles scattered along his forearms, some newer from the summer months. Tendons flexing with determination, he takes the proffered print out and saunters toward the counter. 

“I can be charming,” Hajime mutters childishly, shucking the cross bag higher up his shoulder. He frowns you. “Am I charming?” 

You pat his cheek. His pride always rears over the most obscure things. “In your own way”.

Takahiro voices his amusement with a heavy clap to Hajime’s back. “Yeah, man. You appeal to people’s baser instincts. Makes me wanna get knocked up in a cave and nap while you’re out hunting for boar, or something”. 

“Shut up, idiot”. 

Tooru leaned his body against the counter, closed the distance and tilted his head, a coy sequence you’ve paid witness to a thousand times. You can imagine how he’s holding the receptionist's attention, speaking in low, dulcet tones that slide through her like warm butter. 

“What a bastard,” Issei sighs. Hajime grunts his agreement, and you realise that the four of you are lined up, watching them unashamedly as if it were a piece of theatre. 

“Alright, weirdos. Move it,” you prod insistently at Takahiro’s waist, snickering when he flinches away from your fingers. “Stop staring and get your bags together so we’re ready”. 

“You sure are confident in him,” Issei smirks, picking up his luggage nonetheless. There’s a loud click as you extend your suitcase handle, pulling with force when it jams halfway. 

“You’re not? It’s Tooru—” your voice abruptly halts at the heat of another, their hand encompassing your own. Hajime relinquishes your grip and readjusts the handle without fanfare. Flustered, you clear your throat, “He always pulls through for us. Though I still think this is all a bit unnecessary”. 

“I, for one, am glad he’s with us and not against us,” Takahiro snorts, eyes flitting between the two as Tooru tips his head and laughs. The sound is trim, practised and forced to your own ears, yet manages to make the employee blush. “Kinda scary, isn’t he?” 

Unfettered affection pulls at the corner of your mouth. You smile, turning away from them before they can see and tease you for it. Without a doubt, you had missed being with them more than you realised, and the giddiness was hard to temper. 

When Tooru returns, it is with a self satisfied grin, a new set of keys and a slip of paper. “That her number?”

“Yep,” his lips pop as he flips it over between his fingers, flashing the numerical digits scrawled on the back before flippantly sticking it in his jacket pocket. “We now have a modern double, a tatami room and a private onsen. Don’t all thank me too quickly, now”. 

Hajime accepts the keys with a begrudged sigh. “You should worry about texting and thanking her before we leave”.

“Stop trying to make me a better person,” Tooru sniffed, allowing himself to be herded toward the cramped lift. You trail closely behind, shaking your head. 

The room is bigger than expected. Family sized, you’d say. Traditional with a modernised touch; the main tatami room that flowers in the moonlight as it floods in through the sliding lattice doors. Behind it comes the promising sound of running water and after setting all your shoes in the modest genkan—pointed outwards—Takahiro rushes to discover the private onsen.  

Hung in a recessed alcove is a silk scroll inscribed with calligraphy. Staggered wall shelves frame a small flatscreen TV, neatly decorated with painted vases and incense. Tucked away in the corner is a closet full of freshly aired futons. The rice straw flooring yields softly under your feet as you explore. 

Two other rooms are cordoned off, a smaller tatami room for the futons and one largely taken up by a double bed featuring a western style ensuite bathroom. Tourists must love this place, you think. It offers a palatable amount of Japanese culture, while simultaneously providing them with the simplistic comforts of their own. 

Issei makes work of the futons, nudging the low table and cushions into a corner and dragging the blankets over to the other room. Lip worried between your teeth, you find yourself hovering uselessly with no task to attend to aside from unpacking, which you thought to be just as useless. 

A hand snakes around your arm. Tooru’s, you soon recognise; impressively soft given his choice of career, lithe, and slightly balmy from a fruity smelling moisturiser his sister gifted him from her travels in South Korea. “Come on,” he insists without explanation, a dramatic weariness about him.

You are guided into the modern room and handed a travel sized torch identical to his own. You flinch away from the bright light as it abruptly begins to blink, but catch on quickly. ”Look everywhere you can think of”. 

“What’re you guys doin’ in here?”

Ignoring Takahiro’s question, you bend to flash the torchlight into the plug sockets. As Tooru peeks into the vents—giving the theatrical whisper of “all clear” with every check—you circumvent around the bed, looking under the frame and the nearby closet. 

“Makki, stop hovering like a ghost and check the bathroom for cameras. Actually, I’ll do it,” Tooru waves him off dismissively, sleuthing precariously into the small bathroom. “Gotta check the shower head. Can’t have my darling friends showing up on some dark web auction…”

Once Tooru is mollified that there are no hidden cameras the group allow themselves to settle. You are set up in the double room. It is the only door with a lock and a private bathroom, and you suspect that is why it was foisted onto you. 

Still you are conscious about the proximity, or lack thereof. Listening to them bicker and scuffle through the walls, their footfalls and voices passing beneath the crack in the bathroom doorway. Your fingers lingered on the turning lock for too long and in the end, you’d left it horizontal. The intense anticipation in your belly culminated into what you recognised as yearning—longing. 

The shower can only be described as a transparent box. Aside from a few shallow shelves left to house the complementary body wash, you’re surrounded only by clear, frameless glass panels that do nothing to obscure the view of your naked body. Anyone could walk in at any time. Standing under the warm spray, pressure just right against your shoulders, even as the dense steam fogs up the glass your gaze still falls back to the door handle. 

You run a washcloth over your skin and ignore the muted arousal that flares between your thighs. Sounds can be heard over the white noise, muffled by hollow mortar yet still clear enough that the sounds are coalesced into words. 

“Get your shoes off my futon,” Hajime demands. Hand braced against wet tile as though to touch the baritone of his voice, the other passes innocently over your sex, and you shudder. Thoughts wander. 

Tentative, you slide your fingers through your folds. Massage wet, loose circles around your clit. Eyes fall closed and you dip into your imagination. There’s a firm body behind you, cock grinding tantalisingly slow against your ass. Shaped around your back as though you were an extension of him. Your rhythm stutters when Hajime nuzzles below your ear. Tender kisses forge a path to your shoulder while his hands smooth across a resting stomach toward your chest.

Curtained by hot water as it patters away at the tension in your muscles, droplets slip into the seam of your lips and they part for breath. You lean on the tiled wall, seeking cool relief where the steam starts to overwhelm you, and slip abruptly on the condensation. With an undignified yelp, you quickly find your footing—though not without first knocking over the travel sized bottles of body wash. 

Deafening silence follows. You inhale deeply, exhaling to steady your breathing. A hesitant knock to the door gives you pause. The handle remains mournfully upright. 

“…You alive in there?” 

Your face twists into a grimace as you attempt to recompose yourself. You clear your throat. “I’m fine, Hajime. Sorry. The only thing I’m dying of is embarrassment”. 

His short laughter is warm and uninhibited. It rings true in your ears long after he’s gone. Turning away from the spray, your head tips forwards until it thumps against the glass. Shame prickling behind your eyes, you groan, “What the fuck is wrong with me”. 

Surprisingly there are no teasing comments awaiting you when you leave the privacy of your room, dried and redressed. All the screen doors have been pulled open, connecting the main room to the spare tatami room where they’ve rolled out all the futons to create one large bed. Five, together. You smile but don’t mention it. Issei greets you with a lazy wave from his place amongst the blankets. 

“Makki’s just havin’ a smoke,” his thumb points to the door leading out toward the private onsen. Through the lattice you can make out a blurred silhouette standing on the small veranda. 

“The other two?”

“Headed downstairs to ask about the festival tomorrow, and dinner”. 

“Are you looking forward to it?” you perk up, kneeling to sit cross legged on one of the beds. 

Issei smirks at your enthusiasm and hums an affirmative. Your eyes are drawn to the subtle movements of his hands where they fiddle with the inseam of his jeans. “Yeah. Heard they’re lighting some bonfires”. 

Your mouth parts with a sound of recognition. “On the mountainside, right?” 

“That's the one,” he nods and bows forward to rest an elbow on his thigh. You straighten up as he pins you under an intense stare. “I can slip away with the guys, if you want. Tomorrow. It would be a good time for you to talk to him”. 

Heat prickles over your face. Your pinch your cheek between your teeth, eyes instinctively darting to the hallway. You’re not sure whether it’s his consideration of you or your own piteous transparency that makes you want to cry. It has been this way for years; a tentative dance that never seemed to end. They all know. You wished you could still be ignorant of that. 

“Do you…” you clear your throat as your voice cracks. Issei’s gaze softens and you feel naked. “Do you honestly think that’s a good idea?”

After a short, pensive silence, Issei exhales a long breath and lays his hands flat on the futon. He leans into the heel and pushes onto his knees to drop his body heavily beside yours. 

You struggle against his weight as he slumps, flinging both arms around your waist. “Issei—!” an aborted yelp falls from your mouth when he hooks his chin over your shoulder and locks his jaw, pressing it into your back. 

“Stop! That hurts, bastard!” you squawked, pushing down against the forearm cinched across your middle like a belt. They flex under your hands, not moving an inch. You can feel his cheeks lifting as he grins. 

“Sure. When you stop feeling sorry for yourself,” he offers slyly, tightening his grip. You fall slack as the fight bleeds from your body. There’s a familiar burn behind your eyes, closely followed by a swell in your throat that the words can’t quite seem to get around. “And for the record, I do think it’s a good idea”. 

“It’s a terrible idea,” you intone flatly, smile fraying at the edges. “He’s leaving again after this, Issei”.

Issei must hear the clear defeat in your voice because he gathers you against his chest to hug you properly. “I know,” he murmurs. You breathe in the light notes of amber lingering on his skin, his big hand splayed between your shoulders.

Then you feel the unmistakable press of a kiss to your crown. “You’re a coward,” your brows knit together as you glare up at him. It's just like Issei to make it sound like you’re fussing over nothing after you’ve spent years building it up in your head. His grin widens, crooked. “But you’re our coward, and we want to see you happy”. 

You feel your irritation melt away at his sincerity. A smile curls at the corner of your mouth. The sweet atmosphere is swiftly soured as he adds, “So hurry up and fuck already”. 

Takahiro’s return is poorly timed. Shutting the lattice door behind him, he strolls in with scent of tobacco following close behind, “Who’s fucking?”

A wave of embarrassment washes over you. It makes you go hot and cold in quick succession. Issei surrenders and rolls onto his back, cushioned by the futon as you push him away, loud cackles bouncing off the walls. 

“Nobody is. Be quiet, the pair of you”.

“Is it about Hajime?” he continues, crouched before you with eyebrows wiggling suggestively. Takahiro jumps backwards with a snicker when you angle your hips to kick at him. The bitter smoky smell is much stronger around his fingers. He grabs your ankle to keep you still but Takahiro’s smug air dissipates in an instant, mouth falling open as you drag him down. “Hey—!”

Issei stays quiet with his arms tucked behind his head, happy to no longer be the target of your ire. 

That is the scene Tooru and Hajime returned to only a minute later. Having rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, Makki had accidentally pushed you down into Issei, the three of you tumbling backwards in fits of laughter. 

Spurred by the need to be included, Tooru took it upon himself to flop unceremoniously into the pile. Your pained yelp had caused quite a stir, the image of Hajime’s face twisted in worry playing on a loop in your mind. 

You inhale deeply and grimace in discomfort. The air is humid here. You can feel it sticky in your lungs, right beneath the fresh bruise blooming across your rib. Tooru’s eyes flicker, caught in the movement as you rub at your sternum. The corners of his lips downturn. 

“Sorry again,” he mumbles over the sound of gentle, trickling water from the nearby spring, knocking your elbows together. You’ve strayed toward the back of the group alongside him, his stride slowed to keep pace as you wandered around the low lit gardens to kill time before dinner. Flowers are few, evergreens abundant, stone lanterns guide you forward. 

With a forgiving sigh you link your arms to keep him close. Tooru’s rigid posture relaxes as you nuzzle against his bicep. “Nobody died. It’s fine,” you laugh quietly. 

“If it were up to Iwa-chan I might’ve”.

You roll your eyes. “I can handle a bit of roughhousing. Grew up with you, didn’t I?” 

Tooru’s face is thrown into stark relief as moonlight filters through the canopy, and you watch his small smile scrunch up into a moue. “With my sister you mean,” he says, with a fondness betraying his expression. “What a beast”.

You have vague memories. Downy brunette hair fisted in a small hand. Eyes swollen with tears. A young boy sent to the corner to think about his actions. Tooru always started those fights, not that he would ever admit it. But you knew he was fighting for his older sister’s attention more than anything else at the time. 

“Liar. She spoiled you all the time,” you tell him. “And you were as bad as each other”.

Tooru hums, the way he often does when he doesn’t believe you. Your paths converge, misstepping as he sways and you throw his too-innocent act a look of suspicion. “So,” he starts a beat later. 

It’s apparent in his eyes. That gleam of curiosity, and hesitance. Bingo. Tooru barely moves as you return your weight to his side and almost veer him onto the grass in protest. “No,” you reply. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

“No? Well if it’s not about me confessing to Hajime then please, do carry on”. 

Tooru makes a petulant, frustrated noise. There’s an indent in his cheek where the inner flesh is pinched between his teeth. You roll your eyes, scuffing your shoe to the stone path. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to confess now,” you tell him quietly. 

“You’re just scared,” Tooru returns under his breath. His expression is solemn now, as is his tone.

“And what if I am?” Your voice raises a bit, rousing the attention of the men up ahead. When they look back you muster a smile and give a reassuring wave. Your attention momentarily drawn to the huddle behind them by the bamboo gate. A small family shuffled by, heads bobbing with gratitude as the boys made room, when their toddler took notice of Takahiro and became appropriately delighted by him. 

While the mother spilled panicked apologies and took her daughter's hand, the girl stood on the very tips of her purple jelly sandals and Takahiro bent to let her pat him on the head before departing. Tooru drops the topic with an offended hum as you abandon him to rejoin the group, examining the trim of his nails to feign disinterest, “She only liked you because your hair is pink”. 

“Actually it’s strawberry blond,” Takahiro snarks, equally affronted and amused. “Just heavier on the strawberry”.

Their movements coalesce, blindly shuffling after one another back into the hotel lobby. “Should probably head back soon,” Hajime mutters as an afterthought, his gaze trailing wall to wall before landing on the clock hung above the main desk. “Should we buy some drinks and stuff for tonight?” 

“I can get it,” you volunteer at the same time that Tooru interjects with, “We’ll go get it”. 

You glare at him.

Hajime disapproves. At the very least he’s worried. It’s in the flex of his fingers, the set of his jaw, the earthen eyes narrowed at the pair of you. “Will you be okay together?” 

“Yes, Iwa-chan. This isn’t an episode of ‘My First Errand’,” he reaffirms his grip on your arm, giving it a decisive squeeze. “It’s no problem, right? Right”. 

“Right,” you say, the decision clearly made for you. You turn your attention from Tooru’s pointed smile back to Hajime and the others. “We’re good. Text us what you want and we’ll bring it up to the room”.

Murmured acquiescence ripples through the group, and Tooru ambles you out through the main entrance as you part ways. Your entwined shadows elongate, the wall mounted sconces leading a path to the small sundry nestled in the east side of the hotel. 

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“No”.

“Not even if I say please?”

“No,” Tooru chimes again, tugging you through the automatic doors. The cashier acknowledges your arrival with a quick smile and continues to restock the empty shelf in front of them. 

The temperature drops as you turn onto the drinks aisle and Tooru opens the closest fridge while refusing to let go of you. “I just don’t understand why you’re not taking the chance,” he continues, frowning at the bottle labels. When he plucks the umeshu from the rack you know it’s for him. “I don’t want you to regret it”.

“They’re asking for beer and shochu,” you read tiredly from the phone in your free hand. The text chat bumps as another message comes through. “Uh… Issei wants dried calamari. We should get seaweed tempura, too”.

“Stop changing the subject”.

Annoyance sparks in your chest. “This is what we’re here to do,” you grumble, shoving your phone into your pocket and opening the adjacent fridge door with more force than necessary. You shiver at the gust of cool air. 

An indolent sigh seeps from him. “C’mon. You have to know,” Tooru murmurs, moving closer to hook his chin over your shoulder. He softly knocks your heads together. “The chances of you being rejected are less than zero”. 

“No, I don’t know that. And—even if that’s true, what then?” you shake your head, chewing your lip. “Like I told the others, it’s not a good idea”. 

“Okay,” Tooru replies, standing upright and turning to saunter away. He draws out the word as he does whenever he concedes an argument he still thinks he has won. You stare at his retreating back with a bereft sense of defeat, now cold where your arms had been linked. 

“Tooru,” you say. He makes an inquisitive noise, his nose wrinkled as he rummages through the deep fried snacks. “Being rejected and watching you two leave again—I can’t do both”. 

Your voice cracks. That strikes a chord square in his chest; the sudden crestfallen expression is evidence enough. Tooru abandons the tempura shelf and tucks the bottles of liquor under his armpit while tucking you under the other. You're a mess, a cacophony of emotion threatening to spill out through your tightly closed eyes. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to push you”.

“I mean. You did,” you laugh thickly, and Tooru has the decency to appear sheepish. He rubs his hand down your side. “But it’s okay. I know you mean well, you all do”.

It’s enough to see that it comes from a place of love. The extent of your yearning has affected him just as much as anyone. Tooru watched consistently over the years while you stood in place and dug, and dug, and dug, for somewhere to put your feelings. That along the line it became a crater you couldn’t climb out from. That while you were desperate to make it hospitable, desirable, to be a person Hajime could want, he had managed to blindly pivot around it his whole life. 

The electrical buzz emanating from the fridges is abnormally loud as Tooru, for a precious second, actually stalls to gather his next words. “Look. I’ve been thinking,” he says with a rather rehearsed air. 

“That’s not good”.

“Don’t be mean. Hear me out,” he grins. “It was weird for Hajime to suggest a trip so last minute, don’t you think?” 

You purse your lips thin with a contemplative hum, grabbing the snacks and shuffling along the aisle while he talks. You had thought it significant, that being the main reason you encouraged Hajime’s idea in the first place. “See, he’s a straightforward, honest guy. And he’s earnest. That’s why you think if he returned your feelings he would’ve said something, isn’t it?”

The cashier furtively looks you over as you wander closer to the counter and set them down. You offer a strained smile. “Hi, that’s everything. Tooru—what’s your point?”

Tooru pulls out his wallet and emphatically states, “My point is you’re wrong!” He hands over the money, “Oh, here. Keep the change. Thank you”. You take the carrier bag, wincing when the glass bottles clink together. “Anyway,” Tooru exhales a heavy breath, visible as he steps into the night air, “You’re underestimating his cowardice”. 

Coward was not a descriptor you’d ever ascribe to Hajime. Yourself, sure. You shoot Tooru a sidelong glance, and he smiles at your clear scepticism. “Iwa-chan is bad at being selfish. He feels a certain responsibility toward the people he cares about. Did on our old team, and with the guys, and especially with you,” Tooru continues, a warmth to his tone. “He’s probably not thinking about his own feelings. He’s mostly worried about you, and yours”.

Your pace lags until you’ve come to a stop. Tooru does so a few steps ahead. “So he brought us here for what? To let me down gently?”

“Did you listen to a word I just said?” Tooru cocks his head, the moon crowning his head, light threading through his hair as his expression is shadowed. “I think he was always aware of what could change if he outright confessed. He needed to be sure, and he needed a reason, because his gorilla brain thinks it’ll ruin your whole relationship. That’s why we’re here,” you blink at his lithe fingers, waving in your face and wriggling. “It's an excuse. Because he wants to try!”

Eyes wide, caught in the place between awed disbelief and crippling anxiety, your fingers almost slip from under the bag handle. The trip being symbolic of Hajime’s resolve—could that make sense? You swallow against the lump in your throat. Memories of every recent there-and-gone-again touch and gentle look hold new meaning as they resurface. “He said that?” 

“Well, no”.

And the lump in your throat, presumably your heart, drops straight into your stomach. You march past Tooru into the hotel lobby with a bitter laugh. 

“Wait, would you—! You’re both so frustrating”.

“Me?” you whirl around to glare at him. People linger at the edge of your vision. Those prim, soft looking women that greeted you mere hours ago are gathered at the reception desk and pretending not to stare. Lowered into a broken rasp, you tell him, “What happened to not pushing? You aren’t being fair, Tooru”. 

“This isn’t about fairness. You said you're scared,” Tooru says. Your eyes dipped low to avoid the surety in his gaze. “And that’s fine. I just want you to consider that maybe you’re not the only one who’s scared”.

His words register gradually, and they make you ache; similar to that of a bruise, as the implications become clearer, and your reply comes quietly—not whispered, with a voice that carries no strength. “Fine,” you lift your head, ball your fist tighter and the plastic handles dig into your palm. The tension smooths in Tooru’s brow. His eyes soften, squinting at the corners, and you realise you’ve begun to smile too. “I’ll keep it in mind. You’ve said your piece. What now?”

“Oh. Now we go back to the room before Hajime sends a search party, eat as much as we want and drink until we fall asleep,” Tooru says, casting a quick glance to your surroundings. He drapes arm around your shoulders haughtily, “Then at the festival tomorrow I’ll conveniently slip away with Makki and Mattsun to leave you and Hajime alone. Do with that what you will”. 

You snort, feeling an unrestrained fondness for your friends, and will yourself not to cry. “You three already had this planned, didn’t you? Issei told me the same thing”. 

“Confess, don’t confess. Either way, I think it’ll be good for you to talk alone,” he says resolutely. Tooru’s one armed embrace has the steadiness of home. You return it, hooking around his lower back, and walk together. His strides that much longer, and you feel a smidgen braver.

Returning to the room you’re greeted by the sight of three men crowded in the genkan pushing to get their shoes back on. As Tooru anticipated they were preparing to go out looking for you both. The smile on your face only grew at Hajime’s admonishments now you're considering the love behind them, Tooru’s words relaying through your memory. 

If Takahiro and Issei exchange a look at the bounce in your step, well. You happily ignore it. 

Yukatas had been laid out neatly for each of you to wear for dinner. Once you’ve changed you putter into the main room and settle on your knees, resting back on your calves. The tatami is comfortable underneath your shins. Set on the table is a lavish spread of food brought up to you by the ryokan staff. 

The heat of another body radiates to your left. Hajime smiles when you look at him and your heart thunders. He’s unbearably handsome in his complimentary robe, a darker blue than your own, and he has it loose at the neck. You feel a headache coming on with the effort it takes not to ogle his chest. 

To your right Takahiro’s navy coloured garb is worn equally loose, somehow managing to look dishevelled rather than natural. As though he had pulled it on haphazardly in his excitement to get to the food. 

Tooru saunters into the room alongside Issei. His robe matches your own. It is drawn tight at the waist and closed at the collar, closely outlining his upper half. You are always startled by how broad Tooru truly is, given how lithe his movements are. He huffs when he notices the spots rather side of you are taken. 

“Ready to eat?” Issei rumbles, sitting opposite at the low table looking nonplussed as ever. You can’t help noticing his belt is barely holding tension and could fall open at any time, both sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. It smells incredible,” you say. The dinner is beautiful, a healthy array of colour, covered in mouth watering glaze. Seasonal flowers and leaves and decoratively cut vegetables have been used as finishing touches on each dish, artistically expressing the end of the summer. Your stomach twists in hunger as both palms come together in synchrony, “Thank you for the food”. 

You take your chopsticks and reach for the dish closest. Limbs cross over the table top. A familiar, homely scent of saffron, garlic and onion fills your senses. The gloaming moon watches you eat in the relaxed atmosphere. Soft sounds of satisfaction, the clang of cutlery. “S’good,” Hajime says. He catches you staring and lifts his chopsticks toward you, free hand cupped beneath it. “Want to try?” 

It’s unnecessary in the best way. “Mmn,” you replied, leaning forward with an indulgent smile. You don’t trust yourself to speak, the spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to your body. 

Could Hajime really return your feelings? Tooru certainly thinks so. Issei and Takahiro. Seemingly everyone that has been within twenty feet of you. 

Tooru watches the interaction over his glass of umeshu, radiating a smugness that can only be interpreted as ‘I see you’. You don’t particularly enjoy being seen to the bottom of; it makes you want to shrink back. It’s the strange flicker of determination on Hajime’s face that keeps you from doing so. 

You’re not the only one afraid to say something, a voice insists in the back of your head. 

The food falls apart gently on your tongue. You give a pleasantly surprised hum, engrossed in the rich flavours, and you almost miss how Hajime preens. His mouth pulled into a small, boyish grin, unable to look you in the eye. 

“Hey man, give me some,” Takahiro bemoans, his amusement on the precipice of teasing. You recline to allow Hajime to pass the dish across and instinctively know what will come next. “I see how it is. Not gonna feed me too? Favouritism at its finest—” With a flat glare he scoops a large chunk of rice and shovels it into Takahiro’s mouth mid sentence, and you hide a laugh behind your hand. 

As the plates empty your imagination wanders. It’s a careful unravelling of doubt. You’ve navigated every one of your relationships with a certain level of trepidation, Hajime most of all. Taking a forward step only when certain it wouldn’t creak. Years of doing nothing, saying nothing, because it was the safe option. You had been prepared to spend your life in that unspoken purgatory if it meant keeping Hajime, and there had been comfort in that decision. 

But now you have permission to hope and you don’t know what to do with it. You’re quieter than usual, though nobody points it out. If anything they seem relieved. Three of the four, atleast. Hajime won’t stop sending you worried glances. You wonder if he’s overthinking his actions, and your reactions, the way you’ve always done. 

The main tatami room is fragrant with the remains of dinner. You’ve gathered some pillows, shared out the snacks and poured their drinks, five sups in and counting. The boys are bickering over which movie to watch. Sake heats you from the inside out, plucks you right from your entangled thoughts and back into the present with loose limbs and a looser tongue. 

You speak loudly over them, “How about a comedy?” It’s the first one you can think of. “Tampopo?”

Issei, Takahiro and Hajime pause to consider. Tooru groans, already knowing he has lost the majority vote. “I wanted to watch ‘Before we vanish’,” he whines. “Sci-fi is better than comedy!”

“We always watch sci-fi,” Hajime remarks as he works the remote, switching the movie category to comedy and searching for ‘Tampopo’. 

“There’s a drinking game for this one,” Takahiro adds. “I think you sip every time somebody says ‘ramen’”. 

“If you want to be put on a waitlist for a new liver go ahead,” Issei says. 

The room briefly fades to darkness, lighting up not a second layer as the studio logo spins onto the screen, emphasising the shadows of Hajime’s laughter lines. “We should drink every time there’s a weird food-porn montage instead,” he suggests, sinking back onto his elbows. Your traitorous mind immediately notes the few inches between your hands. 

“Well I’ll be drinking in protest,” Tooru turns his nose up though his eyes betray him, fixed on the screen with obvious interest. “And I’m not sure I want to hear the word ‘porn’ from your mouth ever again”. 

“Porn,” Hajime says. “Porn, porn, porn”. 

“Quiet,” you hiss, focus absorbed by the opening scene. An odd pair of lovers, one delicate woman and her white-suited gangster, enter a movie theatre. Their entourage scurries behind them with champagne and a wicker basket of food, setting up a small table as though in a restaurant. 

“Oh,” the dapper man’s voice bleeds through the speakers as he approaches the camera to break the fourth wall and harangue the viewer. “So you’re at a movie too. What are you eating?”

“Dried calamari,” Issei answers loftily. Takahiro snorts into his drink. 

Scene to scene, you drink when prompted and settle into uninhibited contentment. Feet tucked up under your thighs, propped on a plush pillow. The heat from Hajime’s hand grazes your skin. Closer and closer until the simple stretch of your fingers would see them entwined. 

The movie is funny. It is also unabashedly sensual and hedonistic, and heavy handed about its themes surrounding food. From oysters to noodles, including a scene involving the two lovers using their tongues to move an egg yolk between their mouths before it bursts, you're barraged with wet slurping sounds as the characters on screen eat, and eat, and eat. 

“Hot,” Takahiro slurred, while Tooru cried, “What the hell are we watching?”

You drank twice for that one. Too tipsy to parse whether the hot flashes through your body were embarrassment or arousal or an intermingling of both. You’re overly conscious of Hajime’s movements and his closeness, so much so that the plot passes through one ear and out the other. 

The dim lamplight from the ensuite room pools across the tatami, the door left ajar to luminate the spot where you’ve lined up the liquor bottles. You squint at the labels. Fuzzy. Laughter ripples through the group at the ongoing scene, an elderly woman being chased around a grocery store and hit with a fly swatter for seemingly—fingering the food? 

You smile at the sound as you lift Tooru’s umeshu bottle to the light to measure the remains before pouring some into your glass. A hand circles your ankle, shifting back and forth to fit the peak into the gaps between his knuckles. The soft evocation of your name. Hajime is holding out his own empty cup with a half lidded gaze, the left side of his face thrown into stark relief by the TV screen. 

Something hot flares through your chest, your perspective on his tactile habits shifted; the initial desire suffuses to the very tips of your fingers. Now you’re restless with it. He’s so handsome, you think. And he’s still looking at you. 

You fill his drink too, and hope the alcohol will not steal these warm moments come morning. 

Once the movie is over your sprawled out bodies eventually migrate toward the futons Issei prepared. You forgo the bed to crawl into the covers, to the surprise of no one, and let your eyes trail after Tooru. The flush across his nose has steadily deepened throughout the night. He flicks on the electric fan and kneels to roots through his luggage, pulling a compact from the front pocket with a triumphant noise. 

“Comfortable over there?” Tooru circles the pad of his pinky into the balm and brings it to his mouth. The faint strawberry scent is enticing, preferable over the heady, bitter smell of beer. His brow quirks when you don’t reply. 

“Want some?” he asks. Slowly, you nod, and he flashes a wry smile, setting down the pot before stretching to reach you. The motion draws you in, tipping your chin up. His fingers are soft on your cheek, splayed out and cradling your jaw. 

Tooru kisses you. Your heart maintains a steady rhythm. It’s a friendly, chaste press of lips; you rub your own together as he pulls away not a second later, finding them smoother. Sweeter. The hints of strawberry linger right beneath your nose. Caught in your own world you fail to notice the other two men staring.

“Oh no,” Issei drawls. Turns off the light as he saunters in. He drapes himself across a prone, drunk Takahiro, tilting his head in Tooru’s direction. “My lips are so dry”.  

The atmosphere sparks a little. Issei’s teasing, syrupy tone is like flint striking steel. A fond, syrupy sensation settles around your bones—or perhaps that was the alcohol easing the tension. Flirting came easily amongst the others because it was without expectation. The silly pet names and heavy handed affection; it’s all a playful toeing of the line. People found your group dynamic odd no matter how much you tried to articulate it to them. You think in the end, it boiled down to trust. To safety. They all loved you in their own, individual ways, as you loved them. Maybe that's how you'd managed to be so content with Hajime's friendship. It had been enough.

Tooru hums and sits cross legged on his futon. He settles back onto his hands, smiling hazily as Hajime kicks his foot in passing, “I’ve noticed”. 

You can’t help appreciating how genuinely coy it is. Patently different to the way he behaves with strangers—not so forced. With his friends flirting is more about working for Tooru’s permission; it’s more fun that way. 

Issei purses his lips expectantly. Tooru leans forward. 

“You okay?” 

You blink. Hajime lowers onto the futon beside yours. His yukata has fallen further open to display his firm chest. Not that you’re looking. You’ve been cordoned on the far end of the room together. Takahiro is too drunk to make any purposeful decision but it’s obvious—at least to you—that Tooru and Issei chose from the remaining futons to keep you and Hajime together. 

“Sleepy,” you say, the lull to your voice earning a gentle smirk in response. 

“Want any, Iwa-chan?” Hajime’s frowns at the interruption and looks over his shoulder, taking in the suggestive intermittent puckering of Tooru’s mouth. You think at this rate there’ll be no balm left. 

“No thanks,” he says. 

“Have it your way,” Tooru grumbles from his place beside Takahiro, right in the centre. Pale legs kick at his covers until they’re rumpled a certain way, apparently satisfying to him, and he wriggles down into the mattress. “Still think we should’ve watched ‘Before we vanish’. I’m going to have nightmares about oysters”.

Issei snorts. He turns on his side, laid at the furthest end from you. “But does ‘Before we vanish’ use an egg yolk to symbolise orgasm?” his hand makes a sweeping gesture in the shadows, “I don’t think so”.

“Tha’s cinema baby,” Takahiro slurs, mouth muffled against his pillow. A beat passes. You meet Hajime’s gaze. His lips are pressed thin, trembling. You hear a smothered wheezing sound coming from Tooru’s futon, and the stillness is abruptly broken by a unanimous fit of laughter. 

“Shit,” your cheeks ache, your stomach is in knots as you pull the covers up over your persistent grin. The collective glee tapers. “I’ve,” Hajime starts after a deep breath, rubbing at his eyelids, “missed you idiots”.

Tooru sniffles at that. “Don’t make me cry,” he says, clearing the emotion cloying in his throat. You feel a pang of sympathy, overcome with it yourself. “I’ll wake up with swollen eyes and I forgot to bring gel masks”.

“Use a cold damp cloth or something”. 

“Mattsun, you're so primitive”.

Eventually the murmuring between the boys settles into silence; the kind that makes the shadows in your room a little darker, dense branches spreading across the ceilings and walls into a daunting canopy. The electric fan and the cicadas hum a cohesive song into the night. 

Through the thick of it, you hear a new whisper. Hajime calls your name and there’s barely any voice behind it—uncharacteristically timid. Blinking away the haze, your eyes adjust to the lack of light. You can see an inviting, wide open embrace. The corner of a blanket pulled back to expose his torso. 

Intention clear, you first glance at the sleeping figures over his shoulder. Tooru curled into a cocoon with his bedsheets tucked under his feet. Takahiro laid out on his belly, open mouthed and drooling. Issei on his side, arm bent beneath the pillow, breathing so shallow you’re tempted to pinch him awake. 

Hajime waits while you think. Your vision has sharpened enough to make out the trepid smile on his face. Emboldened, you crawl out of the futon and into his. 

“Looked cold over there,” he reasons. 

You hum in agreement. Compared to his body heat, you’d say it had been freezing. Despite all the hard earned muscle over the years, Hajime is pliable when he’s relaxed, doughy, and he yields when you begin to adjust your shared position. You guide his arm down to cinch around your waist and nestle against his chest, legs overlapped. Made up of yourselves but also each other. 

“Better?” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear. A final shiver dances the length of your spine as your nerves settle and anticipation thaws. You can feel his heart beating like a wing beneath your palm. 

It reminds you of when you were kids. The jagged shape of a tall, lego Godzilla had forced you to find home between him and Tooru more times than you could count. Everything had been so much bigger. Scarier. Still, those watercolour memories don’t quite hold a candle to this. 

Hajime’s hand glides down your back in repetitive, methodical strokes. It makes you feel delicate, like something in you might fracture. You try to ease your breathing as he pulls you closer. The proximity isn’t anything new, but this is something else. Different. It always is, with him, only this time you don’t need to convince yourself otherwise. 

Fingers twisting into the thin cotton of his yukata, you mumble, “Thanks, Haji”. 

You feel his lips on your temple like hot wax. Your eyes flutter closed, and all at once you feel brave enough to say it, but the moment passes as his head drops against the pillow. 

From the recesses of your memory rose the rehearsed speeches, the recipes for honmei chocolate, the imagined cliche scenarios that you left dog-eared in highschool. All the ways to say ‘I love you’. 

Hajime has always expressed love in smaller ways. You’ve observed, over the years, his little habits. Easing small burdens. He’d take the clothes off his own back if it could make your journey smoother but wouldn’t ever dream of asking you to stray from it. That’s where you differed, and what you feared. 

If he got cold feet you would need to be the brave one. 

For all that you had doubted about the nature of Hajime’s feelings towards you over the years, you could have some faith in it now. The thought of him leaving again without hearing it from you—without knowing you were an option—doesn’t bear thinking about. 

Vague and half-formed, you succumb to sleep on the end of a drowsy self imposed promise. Tomorrow, you’ll tell him. 

Wading through a cottony haze, your consciousness sharpens in increments. Every physiological response in your body is shouting that it is far too soon to rise. You groan, tilt your head and let it loll against your arm; the other is flung outside of the covers, fingertips skimming the futon edge. 

You’ve turned on your side in the night. Slowly, you realise a firm body has conformed to your back, knees nudged up behind your own, bending them toward your chest. The way you melt into their warmth and nudge against the cradle of their hips is instinctive. Then the shallow, steady breaths brushing the nape of your neck stutter on a sharp inhale and your eyes fly open, remembering where you are. 

Hajime. 

After a few seconds endured with bated breath you release the tension in your muscles. He’s asleep. 

There’s stark relief. The initial terror in your chest ebbs. Careful as you go, you slip out from Hajime’s grip. A crease forms in his nose, frowning at your absence, and you stay to see how he reaches for you even subconsciously. 

A long yawn forces your jaw open, tongue sitting like cotton as the last dregs of sleep fade. A quick look around the room tells you Takahiro is the only one up. The latticed door to the onsen is cracked open. You pull your yukata tighter to your chest to shield against the slight draft. Blood rushes down to your toes as you walk, prickling white noise filling both legs. 

Bordering the onsen is a quaint patio area mimicking a traditional veranda. There’s a mosaic garden table and two matching folding chairs, one of which is occupied by a visibly hungover Takahiro. 

“Anyone would think you had a night out,” you murmur, closing the door behind you. The air is cool again. Morning birdsong carries over from the trees.  Takahiro peeks at you through his lashes, a permanent frown etched into his brow. A headache, if you had to guess. He’s slumped in the chair with long legs stretched outward, a cigarette nestled in the ‘V’ between his fingers, held up by a loose wrist like it alone was too heavy.

The tip glows red as he takes another drag and turns his head away to exhale the smoke into the dew laden air. “Never let me mix drinks again,” he rasps.

“You say that every time,” you cross your arms over your middle and sit down. The metal is cold under your thighs, felt through the thin fabric. “Sleep well, atleast?”

“Like the dead,” he flashes a conspicuous smile as he brings the cigarette to his lips. “You?”

A voice nonchalant in a way that betrays his interest. Subtle in his teasing. Despite already knowing he would’ve seen you and Hajime on his way to the veranda, the confirmation leaves you feeling hot.

“It was comfortable,” you reply stiffly, braced to defend yourself ad nauseam. Takahiro’s eyes softened in the rousing grey-blue daylight. 

“Good,” he says. 

“That’s all?”

“What, you want me to force the subject? Figured you've had enough of that already”. 

“No,” you sigh, sinking into your chair. “…Thanks, Makki”. 

Takahiro shrugs lightheartedly and stubs his cigarette out. There’s movement from inside the room. At that moment the door slides open, and Hajime pops his head through the narrow gap. 

Your fingers twist hard around your obi. He looks sleep mussed where he’s sitting on the tatami, pushing the door further open to lean on the frame. There’s recognition and relief in his gaze as he glances from Takahiro to you. No indication he was awake before. 

“Hey,” Takahiro says. 

“Morning,” Hajime replies, sounding as though his throat is dry. A draft dances through and his face scrunches slightly at the nicotine smell. “I set an alarm for breakfast. They’ll be here in any minute”.

“The other two up?” you ask. 

“Mostly,” Hajime nods in their general direction. “Tooru’s getting in the shower and Issei’s on the phone to his little brother”.

Takahiro takes a deep inhale and pushes his centremost knuckle to his forehead. “I’ll go help put away the futons,” he states with a groan. Hajime tucks his legs in to allow him through and swats at the hand that scrubs over his hair in passing. 

He turns his attention to you. A crease from his pillow marks his cheek. “Have you been awake long?” 

“About ten minutes,” you reply, staring hard at the dense garden and dwindling into silence caught somewhere on the knife’s edge between awkward and companionable. Running water streams from the wooden spout into the onsen, making the surface ripple. You latch onto the sound. “Shame we didn’t use the onsen”.

“We’re still here another night,” Hajime says placatingly. “Use it when we’re back from the festival if you want”. 

You nod, adjusting your yukata without reason. The simple need for distraction. “Maybe,” your mind can’t help veering toward the worst case scenario. What would’ve changed by that time, tonight? What would you say, and how, if anything at all? The thought makes your stomach twist. You’re not sure you could recover if he reacted poorly. 

Blinking out of your reverie, you realise that Hajime had been talking. Heat prickles under your skin. “Sorry,” you grin awkwardly, and it feels brittle on your face. “Got lost in my thoughts”.

“About what?”

You wet your lips, like that could soften the blow. “I’m going to miss you,” you tell him. His expression falls. “Both of you,” you add hastily, which does little to reassure him. “When’s your flight again?” 

Hajime’s mouth thins, eyes dipping low. “Late tomorrow night. Or early I guess,” he answers. His shoulders shake and he laughs ruefully, “I’ll miss you too, y’know. Not sure you realise how much,” like it was a matter of fact. The earth would go around the sun and Hajime would miss you.

“Like a hole in my head,” you murmur, so quiet you’re not certain he heard you. Then, slightly louder, “Are you excited to get back to California?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m excited to leave. Got a lot of interesting stuff coming up this semester, though,” he perks up when you gesture, encouraging him to continue. Inwardly, selfishly, you only want to hear him speak a little longer. “One thing I’ve really wanted to do is biomechanical testing. We use it for detailed analysis of our players movement. So…”

The air stifles as the sun rises and drapes across the private veranda, warming the wood panels beneath your feed. Once breakfast has been laid out—and you’ve been bid an enthusiastic ‘good morning’ by the staff—you gravitate toward the same seating arrangement as the night prior. 

It’s nothing short of a buffet. A traditional Japanese-style breakfast, hot rice and miso soup, grilled fish, dried seaweed and shellfish boiled in soy sauce and sugar, all served across four hand-woven bamboo trays. There are western elements to the spread, including coffee and bread, which Tooru happily reaches for. 

“A person like you should really avoid stimulants,” Hajime muttered as he came to sit at the table. 

Tooru startled, hands poised over the steaming coffee pot. He pouted, “A person like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Paranoid, is what I mean”.

“If you're so concerned about my overactive limbic system maybe try being nicer to me!” 

The morning crawls onward with an atmosphere of trepidation. As if waiting for the other shoe to drop. You squirrel away in the ensuite bathroom again to get dressed, taking longer than necessary. Condensation from Tooru’s hot shower sticks to the tile and the mirror’s surface. The reflection is foggy, your figure like a smudge.  You regret not bringing a kimono for the festival—knowing you’ll be surrounded by all that beauty and colour and you worry you’ll look dull in comparison. 

Regardless, you smooth out any lingering creases in your outfit. Dull or otherwise it flatters your silhouette nicely. 

“Oh”.

You step out just as Takahiro angles his mouth to exhale. Smoke plumes out the open door in delicate wisps, swept away by a humid gust of wind. “Shit—sorry,” he mutters, a little flustered as he scrambles to shield you from the smoke, eyes roving over your form. 

“You okay?” you ask, unsure if you should be amused or insecure. 

He stubs his cigarette out into the ashtray balanced on the side and wipes his hands on his jeans with such speed you worried it might create static. Then, suddenly, he’s across the room with his thumb sinking into the swell of your left cheek, tobacco fingertips framing the right; he pushes them together until your mouth is puckered. There’s nothing sweet about it. Rather, it looks like he wants to squeeze you like a clementine. 

“You’re all glowy. And determined,” the crease in his brow deepens, and he adds pressure to his fingers until you’re squirming, flustered. “And you look cute”. Issei emerges from the garden at that moment. Hand up his dark turtleneck shirt, scratching idly at the hair on his belly. 

A deep groan rumbles in his throat. “What are you two doing?”

“I think it’s finally happening”. 

Drawn to Hanamaki’s incredulous outburst, Issei stares at your confused, squashed face as it is turned in his direction. His mouth parts and he squints, as though he were searching for the right words. 

What the fuck, you think. 

“What the fuck,” he says, as if plucking the thought from the air. 

“Right?”

They sidle either side of you. Tall and looming, their overbearing presence has anticipation swooping in your belly. Issei smells it like blood in the water and hooks two fingers to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Well look at that,” he teases, bending forward until your eyes cross. “Wonder who you’re getting all dressed up for. Us?”

“Fuck off,” you grumble, though it comes out muffled and terribly nasal. Takahiro laughs, and his thumb skips over your rabbit-footed pulse as his hand slides down the column of your throat and away. 

“Oi. In all seriousness you do look good,” Issei smiles. His kind eyes squint with it. They’ve made a clear effort themselves. That’s part of the fun. 

A voice floats in from the genkan, “Who are we talking about?” Tooru looks up from his phone and he beams. “Oh! You look cute,” he says, tone light and pleasant. “Hajime will like it”.

“Your reactions are worrying me a bit,” you reply dryly in favour of ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Anyone would think I usually look awful”. 

“No,” their three voices overlap as they protest. “You never look awful,” Tooru says, shaking you gently by the shoulders. Then he stops to consider his words. “Well. Maybe that time we thought you had strep throat”.

“What Oikawa wants to say is,” Takahiro cuts in with a flat glare in the other’s direction, “We’re here to support you today, and stuff. That’s all”. 

“And stuff,” you repeat, a fond smile coming unbidden to your lips. The surge of affection has you trying to stretch your arms around three big bodies. “You’re being overbearing. But thank you”. 

Their arms come up to wrap around your lower back and reciprocate. You are corralled into a long, strong hug, compressed from every direction. They release you when Hajime returns. He is visibly stupefied at the scene, brow knit as he fiddles with the collar of his dark denim jacket. 

Your spine straightens, taking an unnecessarily deep breath. “Hi Hajime,” you say. It feels so different now, now there's all that premeditated intent behind it. Like ‘IloveyouHajime’ bunched into a single word. 

“Hi. You look…” Hajime's throat bobs. “Good. You look good”.

You glance at the boys and chew the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress your grin, “So I’ve heard”.

The sun is at its highest point when you leave the ryokan together. You are swallowed up by gold beneath the gingko trees flanking the road, a mosaic of dappled light filtering through the partial canopy and intermixed with the softly shaded ground. 

Foot traffic grew dense on the main street, teeming with life. “Stick close,” Hajime murmured next to your ear. You suppressed a shudder and took his arm so as not to stray far. The crowd herds your group closer to the heart of the festival. Sound assailed you from every direction. Thousands of lanterns have been strung up, forming a blushing canopy over the yagura, a makeshift stage housing performers and musicians, handsome taiko drummers setting the pace for participants to gather around it and dance along in circles.

There’s a sense of harmony, pigments blended into one another. Families are swathed in beautiful kimonos and silks, jinbei and traditionally woven hats. Your group stood out for their height alone—Mattsun especially, the tallest of the four men. People part to let you through, and children look skyward with awed eyes, jumping in place to see how high they could get. 

The current pushes you towards the stalls, where an amalgamation of savoury scents pervade the air. Sweet, crisp okonomiyaki sauce, intense pickled ginger, charcoal smoked meats. Hunger knots in your stomach. Hajime looks over the heads of people and spots some vendors. 

“Guys,” he raises his voice and drops his arm around your back with firm reassurance. The others pause, colliding with the moving bodies around them. “Food first. Then we can go to the games”.

You’re suitably satiated after takoyaki. The folded boat-shape container they’d handed over to you is warm in the already throbbing heat. It burns at the nape of your neck; the sun and the many stares of those around you. Takahiro, Issei and Tooru, too, keep flicking their eyes over, as if waiting for something to happen, or some kind of sign. 

Music plays over the din. A quick-tempo showy melody, like one would hear at a circus. Takahiro points at the ring toss stall. “Hey, ‘kawa. Win me something,” he says. 

“Win it yourself!”

“Don’t be like that babe,” Takahiro laments dramatically, his movements becoming languid and sloppy as he drapes himself around Tooru’s shoulders with his mouth curled into a smarmy grin. “You’re so much better at tossing than me”.

At your back, Hajime shakes with restrained amusement. Issei catches your eye and shakes his head while Tooru sniffs primly, attempting to scrunch his own smirk into a displeased pout, and relents. “Fine,” he says. “But one of you needs to win me a mask at the rifle-shooting game”.  

“I don’t need to do anything,” Issei replies dryly as they start toward the ring toss game with startling synchrony. You glance at Hajime’s face, at another tentative, uncertain beginning of a smile, and feel the limitless joy of being together ballooning inside you.

“Did you want anything?” he asks as you walk. 

Giddy, you cling closer. Part of your brain is stuck on the thought that anyone on the outside looking in would probably assume you were a couple. “If you’re feeling generous,” you exaggerate the flutter of your eyelashes, making Hajime snort. 

Hours slip through your fingers like sand. In no time at all the sky began to darken. There’s a bubbling anticipation in your chest the later it gets. You lift your head to be met with the ochre of evening, azure blending into vivid orange at the horizon. 

Issei tips his head back to take in the sky. “Fireworks are starting soon,” he announces. Tooru’s eyes flicker to you. The tangible sense of finality that had permeated the afternoon comes to a long awaited fulcrum. You’re tempted to linger amongst the stalls, simply to vy for extra time. 

“You two should go and find somewhere to sit,” Tooru insists, shaking his finger from Hajime to you, “We’ll go grab some more food and join you later”.

Hajime levels him with a flat look. “All three of you are needed for that?”

“Yes,” Tooru smiles back, an intensity to his expression. You shift your weight from left foot to right, waiting with bated breath.

After a moment of anticipatory silence, Hajime exhales his acquiescence and turns to you. “Come on then. Let’s find a spot”.

You’re pulled along with him, casting a lasting glance toward your friends and their encouraging gestures as you go. He leads two steps ahead, shoulders drawn to his ears, which are now notably pink. The fingers around your forearm are clammy and loose enough that you could break free. Instead, you overturn your wrist and slide up into his palm, aligning your hands to properly hold him. You squeeze three times, and the rigidity in his posture lessens.

Hajime leads you away from the crowded centre toward the river bank as the display starts in an explosive burst. Couples and families have dispersed there to watch the fireworks. When he manoeuvres himself to his knees you bend to sit beside him, the soft blades of grass flattened under your weight. 

The fireworks go on for close to half an hour, great pulsing strobes, fiery dandelions and starbursts of light brightening both the sky and the water. You hear nothing over the noise, not even your own breathing. A streak of gold shoots up, few becoming many, fizzling into pinpricks of light mimicking fireflies.

You wonder after it ends, "Are the Californian displays better?"

Hajime binks at you, registering the question. He makes a contemplative sound. "Bigger, yeah. Especially on the fourth of July," he brings your joined hands over his lap and you stare as he absentmindedly strokes the back of your knuckles. "Wouldn't say that makes it better. Better depends on the company".

You mumble your agreement, "Think the others missed it?"

"Would be pretty hard to miss," he smirks softly, falling into a comfortable silence. Childlike laughter chimes around you, sparklers of every colour glowing etching names and shapes into the darkness. “They’ll be around here somewhere”.

You lift your gaze, staring at his profile. Your eyes traced the line of his jaw up to the delicate shell of his ear. “Hey,” you mumble, drawing his attention away from the surroundings. Speckles of light reflect in his irises as he turns to face you, cheekbones burnished with a soft red afterglow. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something”.

His brow arches in lieu of a response. Every movement he made you mirrored without meaning to. Quieter than before, you start, “I…” and as fast as it comes your resolve withers. Stretches and thins into weak, fibrous threads.

“What’s wrong? Is it that bad?” he tries for a grin. Hajime puts on a brave face for you, he always does. But you can hear the genuine concern in this voice, and it spurs you on.

"Just don't want you to think I'm being selfish".

“You can be selfish sometimes," Hajime argues.

“Even with you?”

“Especially with me”.

You scrunch your eyes shut.

Hajime frowns and rushes to wipe the stray tear with his thumb, swiping right through it like spider silk. "Take your time," he murmurs, hands an unsteady counterpoint to the surety in his voice. Your heart beats, a desperate rattling behind your ribs. Trembling hands, damp skin. The swoop in your stomach that makes you feel as though your body is precariously balanced on a cliff's edge. This could be everything you’ve ever wanted. This is it.

A slow burn has to catch fire eventually.

So you reach inside and twist the spigot of your heart. A trickle becomes a flood fit to burst. It’s all encompassing, like love and heartbreak at the same time. You look at him and blurt, tremulously, “I’m in love with you,” then wince for having said it, as if you hadn’t really meant to.

“I have been for as long as I can remember. You’re my best friend and I was scared to say it and…” you continued, voice all in a rush, with the pained expression of someone who hadn’t meant to say that either, “I still am. Scared, that is. I'm sorry it took this long. My feelings for you were always at odds with my fear of losing you. And I’m sorry if it’s selfish. I know we don’t have much time left until you leave, and this could make everything weird, but you deserve to know that you're loved. That I love you. And—really, Hajime, if you could just stop me whenever you feel like it that would be great,” you snapped your mouth shut, white hot with embarrassment.

Hajime remained motionless, jaw slack and muscles wire-tight with tension for a long, sickening moment. The sting has you backing off, away, trying to think of something to explain, some excuse—

—Hajime surged forward and kissed you.

It is not like you imagined. There's nothing slow about it, no hesitance nor gentility. Hajime kissed as if trying to press the full weight of his want upon you. As if gravity were a mere suggestion. You suck in a sharp, surprised breath. Relaxing into it your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders to pull him impossibly close, drinking in his soft shudder when you brush the nape of his neck, making all the little hairs there stand endwise.

Hajime's lips are smoother than they look. His hands roam over your hips, kneading the soft parts of your body, and you give way to indulgence. You tilt to kiss his shallow cupid's bow, down to the corner of his mouth. Teeth nibble at your lower lip, the tip of his tongue hatching hundreds of butterflies in your stomach as he traces the seam with promise.

Another loud bang startles you out of the kiss. Laughter and whispers. You sharpen to the surroundings, noting the distant acrid smell of smoke. Rather than release you, Hajime wrapped his arms around your waist and tucked his nose into the hollow where your jaw and neck met. Faint stubble tickles your throat. Your heartbeat clamours in your ears, the blood in your body blush rushing to your head.

"Sorry," you hear him say. His lips drift across your skin as he speaks. The apology fills you with immediate dread. "Should've asked before I did that," he continued quietly.

"Fuck. Is that all?" you slump in his grip with a quiet, wet laugh. "You scared me".

Hajime rears back to look at you, enough room to share a shallow exhale. His palm, large and rough, rose to cradle your cheek. He leans his forehead against yours. You feel like you’ve eaten the sun, brimming with inexpressible tenderness.

"Sorry," he repeats, understanding washing over his expression and a sheepish, fond smile playing on his lips. Pinker than before, not cold bitten, but kiss bitten. "Waited to do that for a long time," his eyes soften in the shadows, half lidded as they flit across your features.

"You have?"

"Used to think you would be my first kiss. First everything, really," Hajime's smiles broadens at your uncertainty, awed and dumbfounded, as he maps out the curve of your jaw with his thumb. Light over your fluttering pulse point. His hand drops and the heat lingers on your neck. He swallows, a sobering moment. "I love you too. Not sure if there was ever a time that I didn’t," he pauses then, looking out toward the orange glow flickering through the treeline, expression unguarded and open. “I kept trying to find opportunities to tell you. I didn't know how. Thought it wouldn't be...”

"Fair?" you finish for him. Of course.

The bonfire has been lit. Cheers can be heard across the river. Your thoughts splinter, stuck in the present while wondering if the others found their way, or if they were hidden somewhere, watching it all unfold. The mental image of them crouched in a random bush together makes you snort, and Hajime's brow pinches.

"Just," you rush to explain, grasping his forearm. You're halfway into his lap. When had that happened? "I imagined the guys hiding somewhere trying to spy on us. S'stupid".

An impish grin graced Hajime's face, ducking his chin as though to hide it. "I wouldn't put it past them," he says. And it hits you that—Hajime has always looked at you like this. Has been saying he loved you, for a long time.

You dither, your skin suddenly cool, and your palms clammy. "Hajime," you say at the same time as he begins to speak.

"Oh—you can—"

"No, you".

"I was going to say we should head back," his voice is infused with fond exasperation, gaze dipping to your union. He clears his throat, "For some privacy. I can't touch you the way I want to, out here".

“Right, right,” you nod slowly through the rush of adrenaline. It prickles in your fingers, the skin on your arms pebbling as Hajime eases you to your feet and a strong arm snakes around your waist. His lips brush your cheek.

“This okay?” 

Melting into the crook of his elbow like it was a space carved just for you, you return a kiss to his jaw and tell him, “You don’t need to ask”. 

“Noted,” he says roughly. 

The walk to the ryokan is a blur. You hardly remember the faces of those you passed. The dancers had been bright in your periphery, their movements reduced to streaks of colour, and every beat of the taiko drum thundered in your chest. 

The quick text you sent to the group chat receives an overwhelming litany of winking emoticons and exclamation marks. Inwardly you hope Hajime doesn’t read them until after—whatever it is you’re heading back to do. Hajime notices. “What’re they saying?” 

“That, uh,” the phone screen dims as you lock it and shove it deep into your pocket. Your legs keep moving. “They promised not to be back for a while,” you shared a meaningful look and wet your lips at the ideas flitting through your mind. The taste of him lingers. Takoyaki, toothpaste and lip balm. 

Together you stumble through the lobby to your room. Hajime remains close at your heel; not once do his hands leave your waist, steadying your movements. You feel drunk. Exhilarated and swept up in the newness of it, as if in a free fall. The keycard almost slips from your trembling fingers as the door beeps open. You step into the shadowed genkan and swivel to take his face into your hands. Another beep as the door closes. You press yourself to Hajime’s front and kiss him. Natural as anything. 

Hajime leads you deeper into the room. The tatami yields under your feet. He sighs blissfully as your tongue swipes along the seam of his mouth, opening up for you and coaxing you in. It’s languid and without demand. The soft, wet sound makes your skin hot. You shudder as he sucks on your tongue, letting go to take the flesh of your bottom lip between his teeth.  

“Need you. On the bed,” you murmur, threading your fingers into his cropped hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. Starting at the crown, you make your way down the back of his head to the nape of his neck where you found him to be sensitive. He shudders, goosebumps spreading over his skin, and arousal seeps through your core. 

“Anything you want,” he breathes. A frisson of anticipation zips up your spine when he steps forward to crowd you against the bedroom door, fumbling at the handle. It swings open and your stomach tightens at the abrupt inertia, stumbling onto the bed together with an oomph. 

Hajime rises onto his forearms, flicks on the lamplight before bracing either side of your head. His nose bumps yours, a warm puff of air against your mouth as he bends his knees, slotting your hips together. You kiss him again. It’s more of a press of mouths, because you can’t stop smiling, and neither can he. 

The outline of his cock is pressed hot against you. You hook your heels into his lower back and breathe his name into his mouth. Flint sparks in your belly as he instinctively ruts forward, rising frantically to meet him. Lips part above your own in a shaky groan, quivering as he deepens the kiss. 

There’s tension buzzing under your skin, the restless, pleasant kind that diffuses into every fibre of muscle and leaves you shaking. A soft hitch of breath. You rock your hips in search of relief, feeling his cock hard in the tight confines of his jeans. “More,” your voice dwindles into a weak moan.

“Slow down,” he calls to you, gentle and placating in a way that makes your eyes sting. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” and you wish that were true.

The rustle of fabric as you undress is inordinately loud in the intimate atmosphere he draws you into. Hajime’s eyes deign to stray from you as he shucks his jacket off and pulls his shirt over his head. The blush on his chest looks like the aftershock of a shot of sake; colour that seeps through his body and stains his skin. He’s gorgeous in the warm dim light, emphasising the shadows of his pecs and the downy hair on his navel. You trace a finger through it and preen at how his abdomen clenches. 

A rough hand slips behind your knee, not quite prying them apart. Hajime thumb strokes the skin there. “Can I taste you?”

Desire tugs at the base of your spine, heart racing. You’re wet. You can feel the cool kiss of air between your thighs. With a surge of want they fall open to him. The quiet hitched breath doesn’t escape you as he looks at you. 

Palms smooth down the backs of your thighs. They ache and stretch to accommodate him. Hajime descends, forging a languorous path of wet kisses on his way. Your stomach twists in anticipation when he blows lightly over your pussy, bringing your legs up to straddle his head, kneading the soft flesh there. 

Hajime’s eyes can’t find a place to call home. Flitting from your sex to your chest to your face, mouth hovering just above where you want him. Even so you find yourself wanting to kiss him again. Wanting for more hands, more mouths, more time to learn him with. 

“You’re beautiful,” he rasps, pressing praise into the delicate skin there. It’s the expression on his face that makes you throb. The intense, unabashed want. You’ve never seen him look like that. “You’ll tell me what you like, yeah?”

You concede with a barely audible mumble, unable to trust your voice. The corner of Hajime’s mouth quirks into a smirk. Then his thumbs are tucking into the innermost creases of your thighs, gently spreading your folds. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit before licking a broad stroke through your folds. 

Forcing his eyes open, Hajime clutches at the fat around your hips. He laps at your pussy, alternating between slow and fast, firm and languid, finding a rhythm that plays your body until your hips are rolling against his face. You cling to the bedsheets, head dropping back into the pillows. “Like that. Hajime,” you gasp as flickers back and forth over your clit, breathlessness abated by the sudden rush of air to your lungs. “Fuck. Don’t stop—!”

You hear his deep inhale, and his eyes scrunch shut with a long groan as he keeps pace. It sends an echo of pleasure through you—makes you clench around nothing, an innate plea from your body. He kisses your pussy, open mouthed, sweet and precise. Heat gathers in your belly like a solar flare. The pressure has you bursting at the seams. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you say, voice caught in your throat. Your thighs wrap around his head, toes curling. He doesn’t push, or adjust his pace, or let his enthusiasm get the better of him. A broken moan spills from your lips, pelvis undulating with each wave. Hajime maintains the rhythm—exactly as you need it, right as your spine arches into the sheets, and your orgasm ripples through you. 

Your breathing begins to steady. Your legs fall slack, hung limp over Hajime’s shoulders. He hums, a satisfied little noise, and rests his cheek against your inner thigh as his tongue slides lazily through your folds. You take in the arousal and spit coating his cheeks, half lidded stare, the sheen of sweat on his brow, and feel a surge of affection. 

Your fingertips graze his temple. His eyes flutter at the tender touch, and Hajime tips into it, pressing a kiss to your palm. “Good?” he asks, smiling. 

“Good?” you repeat with disbelief. You grab at his shoulders to coax him back up, pleased when he goes willingly. You readjust as he buries his arms under you and gathers you close to his chest, kissing the corner of your lips. You turn and murmur into his mouth, “You’re a little too good at that”.

Hajime laughs, lolling his forehead to yours. “Just good at following instructions,” his voice goes tight at the pressure against his cock, your hips raised to feel him through his briefs. “Fuck”.

“If you want to,” you tease dazedly. He nips at your lip in retaliation. 

“Don’t feel like we have to,” Hajime reassures after a beat, hand coming to rest on your waist. He strokes up and down your flank. “I don’t have any condoms. And I know this has been pretty fast”. 

You consider him closely, love suffusing through you like a warm, pleasant fog. It spurs you to admit things you wouldn’t have otherwise. “I’m clean. We can stop if you want to,” you kiss his cheek, “But I’ve waited enough. I want you,” you kiss the bridge of his nose, “Wanna know what you feel like inside me,” you kiss his slack mouth, tasting yourself. “Want you to know what I feel like when I cum, so you can think about it when we’re apart—”

Hajime pins you to the bed like a butterfly, his jaw set tight. His eyes are dark, gone is the colour of nascent spring. You feel swallowed up by him. “Keep talking and you’re going to make me cum,” he rumbles, reaching to push down his briefs. 

“I don’t care if you cum as soon as you put it in,” you squirm, tucking your chin to watch the moment his cock slips free. He sits in his palm and wraps his fingers firmly around the base, leaning deeper into the cradle of your hips, legs splayed overtop his firm thighs.  

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Hajime replies dryly, dipping to kiss you again. You’ve lost count of how many. He positions his arm above you by the headboard and the hot weight of his cock settles on your sex. You share a soft sigh as he guides the tip through your folds, the underside nudging against your clit. 

“You know what I mean,” your focus is torn between talking and angling your hips to take more of him. “Doesn’t have to be mind blowing I just—want to be with you,” you mumble, quiet like an admission, and Hajime’s concentration comes apart at the seams. 

The air is stolen from your lungs as the tip slips in. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, seeking—something. Leverage. A tether. Chest to chest, Hajime presses you deeper into the mattress as his cock sinks into you. Slow, attentive to your shifting expression while you adjust to the stretch. 

And when he bottoms out you feel full. He’s thick. it has a sense of contentment spreading throughout your body. Eventually, “You can move, big guy”. 

Hajime gives a gasping breath, groaning your name on the next. The rough timbre of his voice makes you pulse around him. The corded muscles in his arms flex as he shifts. There’s a dull sting while he pulls out, and a startling emptiness, immediately sated as he rocks his hips forward. You arch upward, angling your hips to take him deeper, and his eyes screw shut, lips parted in a silent moan.

Hajime fucks you with slow, deliberate thrusts, gradually building a rhythm, finding a pace that you respond to. You can hardly bear to look away from him. Flushed pink with exertion, the light lovingly kissing the left side of his face, mouth swollen and red. He’s murmuring little incantations of praise that you strain to hear over the sharp slap of skin, every thrust plucking another breathless sound from your throat. 

And he’s looking right back, almost reverential. A desperate pinch to his brow. You dig your heels in, nails biting at his back. It’s all you can do to hold on. His kisses grow clumsy as his attention wanes, reaching a spit-wet hand down to play with your clit as he pistons his hips. 

“M’close,” he grunts like it pains him to admit. 

Your ears are ringing. The sticky, wet echo reverberates around the room as Hajime fucks you. His strokes press impossibly deeper and you choke on a moan, feeling him in your throat. His fingers rub faster over your swollen clit. Pleasure spreads through your belly, blood rushing between your thighs. 

“Please,” you cradle his cheek, hot against your palm. He takes it in his free hand, interlocking your fingers against the bedsheets. The intimacy has your mind going numb. You’ve become a knot of a person. That new vulnerability, the love he’s immolating you with, is what knocks you toward the edge. “Hajime,” you cling to him desperately. “Hajime”.

“Fuck. I’m cumming, I’m—” Hajime buries his face into the crook of your neck, intermittently squeezing your hand. His thrusts are harder, sloppy. He shudders to a stop, his orgasm carving him straight down the middle with a drawn out moan. 

The tension seeps from him all at once. You laugh breathlessly at his collapse, the weight both comfortable and bruising. His pelvis is nestled perfectly against your clit, and every twitch creates another wave of pleasure. You undulate your hips to chase the friction. 

The only indication that Hajime notices is the smile curling against your throat. He lets his lips drift across your pulse, folding his arms around yours until the world and it’s axis are just that—Hajime. Without needing to ask, he stays close and circles his hips even as his cock softens inside you, tipping you over the precipice. 

Time is difficult to measure while swaddled in your intimate little bubble. You’re not sure how long you spend simply holding one another, commiting how the other feels to memory. Hajime kisses your forehead. “Love you,” he says.

“Love you,” you croak back unattractively. He flinches at the sound, and props himself up to search your face. 

Eyes wide and earnest he asks, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m alright. Just processing everything,” you reply, blinking away the sting behind your eyes. Hajime doesn’t look convinced. 

“Tell me,” he gently encourages. There’s an anxious edge to his tone that you want rid of. 

“Besides the fact that I had sex with the guy I’ve been in love with since middle school and everyone is going to know when they get back?” you laugh, making Hajime’s mouth curl as he carefully manoeuvres you both onto your sides. Better. “I’m just scared about what this means for us, I guess. Are we—you know, together now? Doing the long distance thing?” 

Giving a thoughtful hum, he hooks your knee over his hip. Whether it’s to put off the mess a little longer or keep you close, you’re not going to complain. “I want to be with you,” he says. 

“Even though we’ll be…” you squint as you think and reach inward for the specific number “…five thousand three hundred and fourteen miles apart?” 

“You looked that up?” Hajime’s smile widens, dopey and fond in a way that makes your heart ache. “But yeah. We’ll take it one step at a time”. 

“Then what’s the next step?” 

“Next?” he says. Another tender kiss to your temple, a deep, pensive inhale. “Next, we use the onsen”.

You can’t be sure how long you stand there, sluggish and unblinking, fixated on the distant threads of grey cutting across an otherwise dark sky. It felt dissonant to the torrential downpour in your chest.

A warm body comes up behind you. Issei rests his chin on your crown, rubbing it back and forth as Takahiro knocks your elbows together, “Ready to go?”

No, you think. After a few beats of silence you phone buzzes in your hand and you scramble to check it. The background is the picture Takahiro took of you and Hajime by the lake, in a world of your own. A notification bar cuts across the screen. 

Hajime (03:34): I love you. I’ll call when I land. 

You swallow that thought and uproot yourself, “Yeah. Yeah I think so”.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #seijoh 4 x reader #haikyu x reader

[l0v3tast3]

spring fever! — tf141 men

mw2 men helping catgirl!reader through her heat! (simon riley, john mactavish, kyle garrick, john price)

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, catgirl!reader, breeding kink, edging, overstimulation, oral, thigh-riding, praise kink, degradation, abuse of pet names, cockwarming, size kink, size difference, fluff mixed in <3

✎ word count: 2.3k words (not proofread)

✎ author's note: this is purely 100% self-indulgent because i can write whatever i want teehee :] ever since i realized i can just write the smut i want to read myself my life has improved significantly, also i am working on another one of these with phillip, alejandro and könig is anyone would wanna read that (o･ω･o)

masterlist | requests are open!

♡ simon riley — "don't act all shy now, love. weren't y'just begging me for this?" — simon isn't sure if you know what you're getting yourself into while you grind yourself down against his thigh, your juices already soaking through your underwear and quickly making a dark spot on his jeans. his resolve only lasts until you cum just from humping his leg. he has you folded into a mating press before long, your legs hooked over his elbows. — outside of your shared home, simon isn't much of a talker, but the sight of you absolutely brainless under him draws out the filthiest words from his mouth. "makin' such a fuckin' mess on my cock, y'gonna clean it up for me sweetheart? i know how much y'love when i fuck your mouth. or do you only want my cum stuffed into this little cunt? want me to put a baby in y'love? yeah? that's all you can think about right now, isn't it? all y'need is my cock inside you, such a good little whore f'me." — you should have known before you asked for his help that he would abuse the living hell out of your tail; how could he not when it's makes you cum nearly instantly? it doesn't take you long to learn that once he flips you over, you'll soon be an overstimulated mess. simon can't get enough of how you react when he pushes you to that point, clawing at the sheets to try to leverage yourself away from his onslaught and pushing your hips back against him to take more of his thick cock at the same time. your words get jumbled up and incoherent, broken little pleas choked out between moans and cries. eventually he'll slow down to shallow, drawn out rolls of his hips, laying his titan-sized body over yours and asking you what you want. when you keen and press up against him, whimpering his name and trying to push your hips into him again, he'll tell you that you're such a good girl for him and pick up the pace. — he won't edge you as much as he overstimulates you. simon edges you more as a "break", both for himself and for you. even with your heat making you able to take a lot more than what you usually can, he still knows not to push the limits of your body too far. so he'll make sure to tie your hands to the headboard and bury his fingers in your sopping wet pussy in a slow, languid rhythm and lave circles over your clit with his tongue, drawing away each time he feels you tightening up until you're sobbing. you beg him to fuck you and let you cum, trying as much as you can to move against the weight of his hand pressed against your stomach. once he's sure that just touching your clit would probably make you cum, simon finally relents. he'll graze his hands over your thighs, watching as your body twitches just from that. "'s alright love, i'll make you cum. so fuckin' sensitive, wish i could keep ya like this, all needy and sweet f'me," he says quietly, lining the head of his cock up with your dripping hole and bullying his cock in slow. he'll grip your waist tight enough to leave yet another set of bruises when you cum around him, fighting to not cum himself as he fucks you through your mind-shattering orgasm. — despite his roughness, simon will take care of you through all of it without a single (wholehearted) complaint. he'll grumble here and there, chastising you when you'd rather ride him than eat the food he's holding in front of you, but there's a hint of concern to it; simon loves you too much to hurt you or to see you get hurt, so he makes overly sure that all your needs (besides being fucked) are constantly met.

♡ john mactavish — "c'mon bonnie, if ya want my help then y'gotta ask nicely." — johnny loves you, every part of you, but one of the things that he especially loves is your heats. he relishes in the few days it lasts (rejoices on the rare occasion it lasts almost a week). your neediness, your dependency on him, the adoration and near-worship that you finally weren't too shy to show. he loved taking care of you, from bending you over every surface in your home and tugging on your overly-sensitive tail to make you cum fast to spoon-feeding you while you were semi-lucid. — he shows you the same love and worship as always, of course, but he can't help being a near-sadist most of the time. you're just so adorable like this, so pliant and always wanting more from him, anything and everything he would give you. it pulled out a different side of him. john was always a tease, almost always in control, but it was like your greed and lust became his too. "oh, i know bonnie, i know, i'll make ya cum, i promise." he, of course, breaks this promise until you're crying, choking out jumbled pleas for him to make you cum. every few times he pulls away just before you fall over the edge (which doesn't take long at all) he comes back up to be face-to-face with you and scratch and pet the ears sticking out from the top of your head. it just melts you, makes you so cooperative, so brainless and compliant. — when you're nearing your limit, about to pass out, johnny finally gets sweet. he'll give you whatever you ask for, smooth his hands over your overstimulated skin and fuck you slow. he sings you praises for how well you did and talks you through it before you slip into unconsciousness for a few hours, until your body wakes you up again (or his). "sweet lass, just one more for me- fuck, know you can do it. hah- doin' so good. you can, just a little more, i'll make it feel so- so good, bonnie. love y'so much like this, so cute, all f'me. ya gonna cum, sweetheart? fuck! ah, so tight around me, y'want my cum? yeah, good lass." — johnny doesn't leave your side until you're well past recovered; he'll take such good care of you, makes sure you drink excessive amounts of water, makes sure you eat plenty and washes your hair for you in the shower (he fucks you before he cleans you off). when you start waking up more sore than horny, he massages just about every muscle in your body, drags you into a hot bath, and swaddles you in a nest of his clothes and blankets and pillows to rest some more.

♡ kyle garrick — "fuck, slow down, pretty. gonna help you, swear it." — kyle is so sweet with you, kissing you softly and guiding you up and down on his cock after he makes you cum several times with his mouth and fingers. he's so gentle; he'll do his best to calm your frayed nerves, kissing you all over and rubbing his hands over every inch of your skin, whispering choked praises to you as he lets you use him. kyle indulges in your every desire, happily doing whatever you ask him for; he just can't say no to you when you're looking at him with teary, pleading eyes. — once he really gets going, kyle gets more rough with you, manhandling you into different positions so he can fuck his thick cock even deeper into your sopping pussy. he's still sweet with you, groaning out how good you are for him and how much he loves you like this, so needy for him while you're cumming for the umpteenth time that night. once he finally placates you for the time being, he hugs you tight against him as you're both passing out. — he doesn't have much need to make you more content by scratching at your fuzzy ears, but he still loves doing it just to see you melt, just to see your pretty lips spread into a dopey smile and feel you nudge into his hand. kyle doesn't abuse your tail much either; he'll only tug on it when you're being bratty, trying to sink your little fangs in too deep or trying to claw yourself away from the overstimulation before he's done with you. "c'mon baby, just one more for me, you're doin' so- fuck, so good- ahh, that's it pretty, you can take it, know y'can. i know, i- i know, 's okay baby, fuck- y'gonna cum? cum for me, c'mon-" you're both coming together, bodies locking up against each other as he fucks into you a few more times before he collapses next to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you all over. — kyle's so good at taking care of you, he loves that you trust him enough to let him be with you for your heat, and he doesn't take that for granted. he'll basically treat you like a goddess the entire time (as if he already didn't the rest of the time). he'll carry you everywhere, chuckling when you cling onto him and nuzzle your face into his neck. he cooks or orders whatever you want, puts your favorite salts and scents in the baths he eases you into (despite your many protests), gives you however much of his wardrobe you need for your makeshift nest. kyle is just so whipped for you, his smile always stretching wide every time he sees your tail curl up in joy because of something he does or says.

♡ john price — "it hurts, sweetheart? can't have that now, can we?" — john swears up and down that he tries his damndest to be gentle and slow and sweet with you. and he is... at first. when you clamber into his lap, pleading for his help while you kiss and nip at his neck, he'll pick you up effortlessly and take you to your shared bed within seconds. after that, it's only moments before he's stripped you down and is worshipping your body- partially because he loves every inch of you and never goes a day without showing you that affection, and partially because of how much more sensitive your entire body becomes during your heat. — it's something he becomes obsessed with pretty rapidly; john will practically study the effects your heat has on you. he won't admit it, but it's obvious how much he gets off on it. how you're so desperate for him, his touch and voice and anything and everything he'll give you. how upset you get when he tries to get you to stay in bed while he goes to a different room of the house. how you need him. it's what slowly drives him to his breaking point where he just can't hold back with you any longer. — you can feel his touch getting heavier, fingers digging into your hips deeper and tongue pressing harder against your clit. when you're coming down from your second high and already being pushed towards your third of the night, your grip on his cropped hair gets tighter and the only sentences you can form are various versions of "mmnh- ple-ease! john- ah, please, need you!". that's when he can feel the last of his self-control slipping from his hands. in record time he'll be throwing your legs over his shoulders, smashing his lips into yours and easily pushing into your drenched cunt. — john always finds it incredibly difficult to say "no" to you, but it won't stop him from being a horrendous tease. he'll tie your hands together behind your back or to the headboard or to your ankles and edges you until fat tears roll down your cheeks (which doesn't take very long). when he gets you to that point he'll wipe away your tears and kiss you sweetly. "shh, i know sweetheart, i'm sorry- just love hearin' you beg. y'did so well for me. think you deserve a reward, yeah?" john will always act sorry after he edges you or doesn't let you touch him or ignores your pussy for more than ten seconds, but with each broken whine and sobbed plea his cock grows impossibly harder. — it's a given that john will exploit the hell out of the effects of playing with your ears and tail. each time he edges you, the number of times he takes a minute to scratch at your ears and coo honeyed words down at you increases. it becomes a routine that after those sessions, when he's fucked you slow enough that you've calmed down a bit, he'll start up with your tail. and when he's gotten his fill of your begging for him to give it a break, he'll act sorry about that too. — as each stretch of your sex marathon comes to an end before you both pass out, he'll wind you both down by sitting you on his lap and having you cockwarming him while he smokes a cigar. you'll bury your face in his chest and start dozing off, worn out for the time being. john will use his free hand to trace his fingers up and down the curves and lines of your back, grinning to himself when you let you little whimpers whenever you move. "finally getting tired, hm? gonna wake us both back up if you keep moving like that, sweetheart."

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon riley #ghost #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john mactavish #soap #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle garrick #gaz #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #female reader #reader insert #— lilly writes! ♡

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Hello! I really love your works sm, can i request a sfw or nsfw head cannons of the angels from WHB? Thank you!!

I’m so glad you liked them!! So I’m tryna write the angels as best I can Gabriel is the only one I’ve met outside of a event, I’ve seen the other two in the Halloween event! I like em but ngl they have…unique kinks I needed to google hifth

I hope you enjoy!!

Over all cw: blaspheme (I think?? ((Angels worshiping you)), death (not main characters), abuse of power

Sfw/nsft hcs on Angels!

-

Gabriel

Cw: inappropriate boners,

He basically a guard dog standing over your shoulder 24/7 to keep you safe, he calls you his ‘Lord/Lady/Highness’ and has an army of angels who think the same of you

He’s not very affectionate but if you just say ‘hold me/my hand’ or ‘kiss me’ he’d do it in a heart beat. As his God he only wants you pleased

He’s a terrible cook and somehow steals food and is terrifying good at getting away with it (it must be an angel thing??) he dosent even lie saying he made it, he’s just vague where it came from (only once have you caught him in the act and you made him apologize, but the person gave him the food regardless)

He dust a lot in your home and you cant help but notice the ‘home made’ duster he ‘found’ has feathers matching his wings…

Nsft

Canon Kink: Hierophilia; deriving sexual pleasure from religion, religious places and objects as well as find the act itself religious

He enjoys watching you participate in religious activities…maybe too much. He also finds pleasure in treating you as his god.

You jokingly thought of making him go to church, only for him to jump at the chance. He lowkey regretted it when you didn’t touch him, and made him stay squirming in his seat instead of helping him get off. He for whatever reason thought you’d let him jerk off or would touch him yourself as you were holy, nothing you did was wrong but…touching himself in this place is

You’ve actually caught him touching himself to you praying before, he got bashful upon getting caught but you swear you’ve heard him doing it after that, you just don’t catch him in the act (though you’ve caught him awkwardly standing by and adjusting himself)

He’s got a adorablely small and sensitive cock and he genuinely doesn’t need it touched to cum, roll it between your fingers for a few minutes and he’s trembling as he spills out all his cum

Michael

Cw: murder, inappropriate boners

He’s strict with everyone around you, but not you, in his eyes you are the law since he serves only you, you cant do wrong

He’s terrible if you have guest, he demands they now to you and though he’ll settle if you tell him to, he watches them like a hawk and makes sure nothing gets out of hand

You see that leash? If you get mad and pull on it, he will calm down and you have his full attention, give it another tug downwards, and he’ll drop to his knees in front of you, and anyone else in the room

He likes brushing and styling your hair, he’ll try to help you bathe, insisting you don’t need to lift a finger, he will take care of everything, just relax

Nsft

Canon Kink: Erotophonophilia; ‘Muder kink’, deriving sexual gratification from killing or watching someone get killed (BOY IS THIS A HARD KINK TO CASUALLY WORK WOTH)

If push comes to shove he has a habit of killing people who harass you too much/threaten you, but he gets…really excited afterwards and is pressing his thighs together to hide his erection, especially if you’re clearly not in the mood

You’ve seen him get in fights while still aroused from the last kill an honestly, when in public you sometimes just force a chastity cage on him to discourage him acting out

Though he believes self pleasure, or just the act in general is…sinful, he will do anything for you with no qualms, he only feels good when you touch him anyway

He suffered from wet dreams whenever you’re around him or he has objects with your scent

When he want to fool around desperately he will walk right up to you, kneel and beg you to touch his neither regions, stroking, slapping, pinching, doesn’t matter as long as you touch him

Raphael

Cw: messy kitchens, messy person, furniture abuse,

He’s messy and kinda gets annoying at times since he discovered how much fun it is to smash condiment packages

He’s good about cleaning, and he even cooks to make up for the mess…but he’s a sloppy cook too but at least it’s not intentional this time

He doesn’t understand that the furniture isn’t trying to hurt you and doesn’t need to be punished. He’s broken threee tables, one bed post and five chairs since he’s moved to being your ‘Guardian Angel’, all for tripping you or you stubbed your toe on them

He’s not affectionate but he’s not distant, he just follows your lead, he stands close by and if you ask him to come over he flops in your lap and looks up at you like a puppy. He likes when you watch tv and let him lay across your lap, he falls asleep easily that way

Nsft

Canon Kink: Automysophilia; getting sexual gratification from defiling oneself, being dirty or defiled

He enjoys getting messy with cum, blood, dirt, just about anything. He will be blissed if you strip him and cover him in…well it’s up to you ;)

He has no qualms with jerking off in front of you if you don’t want to touch him while he’s too messy, but he wants you to be fully clothed while he’s sprawled out naked in front of you

He’s fucked slime before since it feels…weirdly good around his shaft, to the point he gets excited when he sees it around the house. You had to punish him for thinking he could ‘fool around’ with it then hide it away again

He’s got a very sensitive halo, while other angels get off to them being touched like a devils horns, he avoids it since it brings him to his knees in seconds

#what in hell is bad #whb #Gabriel #Raphael #sub Gabriel #Michael #sub michael #sub raphael #dom reader #Gabriel x reader #raphael x reader #michael x reader #headcannons #nsft #sub whb Gabriel #sub whb Michael #sub whb Raphael

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃

꧁ 𝙊𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Teaser ➤ getting used as a toy <3

Word count › 1.9k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › none

Kinks › dumbification, light degradation/feminization, praise

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

“You really came.”

(Name) bit his lip. He himself wasn’t sure why he came but he did. Here he was sitting on Yubin’s bed in his bedroom. It wasn’t really decorated with much. A few posters here and there but really that was it.

But it still felt like someone lived here.

“You know what it means to be here, right?” Yubin asked, a small grin on his lips. His lips were more plump than (Name) remembered.

(Name) hummed. “I’m not stupid. I know you want to have sex.”

A chuckle left his throat as (Name) raised an eyebrow at the boy in front of him. Yubin was standing in front of him, a smirk on his lips.

Somehow, despite being physically weaker, (Name) felt as if Yubin was fully in control at the moment.

“Sex…? No, (Name). I want not just your body but your heart. Your everything,” Yubin muttered, reaching a hand to caress his chest. (Name) bit his lip, watching as his chest was fondled with.

Like they were boobs. Yubin had a childlike grin on his face at being able to touch his crush so closely. (Name) was honestly just shocked at himself for being so decile to his advances.

Did he actually want this?

Was he into boys? He wasn’t sure. A whimper left his lips as Yubin began to use two hands to fondle his chest area, brushing against his nipples through his shirt.

He wanted more. (Name) wanted to feel it on his actual skin. He opened his mouth to ask for it only to pause when Yubin pulled away.

“Okay, I’m good for today. Let’s watch a movie!”

The fuck?

“Good for the day???” (Name) asked, watching as Yubin turned on his tv to pull up some random movie.

Yubin looked back at him as if he was stupid. “Yes. I’m good for the day. What movie do you wanna watch?”

(Name) wanted to kill himself. He came over here despite believing he was straight for a thirty second fondle?!

A random zombie movie was put on as Yubin got comfortable on his bed. (Name) was silently wondering if he should go home.

Did he come here for sex? No way, was he actually sad about not getting dick?!

Wow, he changed in only one day. He pursed his lips, imagining the time he had a brief taste of Yubin’s cock. It was so quick that he never felt that he truly tasted it.

Did he like Yubin? From afar, the times he watched him, he thought he was adorable. But he hated how he could see himself dating Yubin.

God, he must really be so touched starved from his last girlfriend.

“(Name).”

(Name) looked back to see Yubin laying down, a blank stare on his face. But before he knew it, a cute grin was on his lips as he patted his chest.

“Lay.”

He didn’t have to. He really, really, didn’t have to. But he did. Yim (Name) allowed this twink of a boy to command him. He laid down and rest his head on Yubin’s chest, a bit cautious about putting too much weight on him.

(Name) blushed as he felt Yubin play with his hair while absentmindedly watching the movie. He had never experienced something so domestic.

He cuddled closer to Yubin, not noticing that his cock was hard. Why was he hard? (Name) just got hard easily from any sort of horny imagination he has.

The only sound in the room at the moment was of the zombie movie. People screaming about getting murdered or something, (Name) didn’t care. He was honestly scared of horror movies but he never told anyone.

He was just about to force himself asleep when he felt Yubin shift around.

“You’re excited.”

(Name) blanked, glancing down at his tight shorts to see a small tent from his cock sticking up. He blushed in embarrassment and was ready to pull away until Yubin stopped him.

With some hidden strength, Yubin forced (Name) to stay in his spot and get on top of him. He sat down on his stomach and grinned at the boy beneath him.

“I didn’t want to go to fast for yourself but it seems you want it.” Yubin muttered, pulling at (Name)’s shirt.

(Name) bit his lip. Did he want it?

“Tell me to stop. Because if I continue, you’ll never get rid of me.” Yubin said, staring down at him.

(Name) shook his head. He wanted it. Whatever this was, he’ll figure it out but right now—he wanted Yubin.

Yubin smiled. “I own you now then like you own me.” With whatever strength he had, he easily tore open (Name)’s shirt. His chest bounced out in it’s new freedom, nipples twitching at the sudden gush of cold air.

“Yubin! I didn’t carry another shirt!!”

“Calm down. Just borrow mines.”

(Name) was an idiot sometimes but even he knew his stockier build wouldn’t fit Yubin’s skinny clothing. But he didn’t comment on it due to Yubin quickly fondling the chest in front of him.

It felt different than from the shower mess yesterday. He could feel everything without the harsh water running down his skin. Now there was nothing to catch his attention.

And now, he could see the glee on Yubin’s face from every touch and pull at his chest. A whimper left his throat at a sudden pull at his left nipple, causing him to look away.

(Name) never imagined he would ever like something like this. But he guess things changed as you grew older.

“(Name).”

“Hmm?”

“Can I get a boob job?”

“They’re not boobs…” (Name) rebutted pathetically but did not stop Yubin as he pulled out his cock. It twitched in (Name)’s gaze as he watched in awe.

Seeing it now, he wanted it in his mouth again. His throat felt dry, as if it was missing something.

“I’m going to use your boobs to get off, okay?”

“Not boobs…”

“They aren’t? But why are they shaped like boobs? Feel like boobs.” Yubin twisted one nipple painfully, earning a scream from (Name). “And you act just like a woman getting her nipples played with.”

“I think these are boobs. You’re just too scared to say it.”

(Name) shook his head as he could feel tears build up. He was always a crier at the slight hint of criticism or bullying but he didn’t feel sad this time. Deep down, his cock was twitching at the words Yubin used for him.

He hated it but having his chest be called boobs did something to him.

“My cute dumb puppy.” Yubin laughed, grasping both boobs to encase his cock. It didn’t really work, obviously. (Name) had a larger chest but not enough for a full on boob job.

But Yubin was fine with that. The look of lustful embarrassment was something he wanted to see everyday from (Name). Yubin began his slowly thrusting forward.

The light tightness (Name)’s boobs provided did help give some type of friction for Yubin’s cock.

But most of his real pleasure came from the fact that this was real. That his crush was really his.

“Yubin…”

“Hm?”

“My mouth….”

Yubin stilled. “Your mouth?”

(Name) blushed. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” Yubin smirked. “I want you to say it.”

“I want it in my mouth.”

“No, no. Say: ‘Hyung, I want your cock to fuck my mouth.’ A dummy like you can do that, no?”

(Name) hated how his cock twitched at being told to say Hyung. He was sure he was older than Yubin so saying it to him felt forbidden… But all too good at the same time.

“C’mon, Noona.”

“Noona?” (Name) wasn’t sure if he liked being called a girl but he’d deal with that another time.

He pushed aside any shred of dignity left and turned to stare at Yubin. (Name) tried to use his puppy eyes to his advantage. If he was going to do something like this, he might as well go all out.

With his puppy eyes and plumped lips jutted out in a pout, he whined out: “Hyung, fuck my mouth, please?”

(Name) grunted in shock at the cock that just shoved it’s way into his mouth. He whimpered at taste and gripped Yubin’s thighs as his large and thick cock used his mouth as a way of release.

Yubin’s hands found it’s way into his hair and gripped at it tightly, using it as a way to hold (Name) steady for his brutal thrusts.

Whimpering and whining filled the room, drowning out the movie on the tv. It wasn’t even a priority anymore for the two boys chasing their orgasms.

(Name) reached down to pulled at his own shorts, fishing out his cock. He gripped it tightly and began to masturbate, trying to match the uneven thrusts of Yubin’s hips.

“(Name), your mouth was made for this, huh?”

A whimper was his only answer.

“You were made for me, hm? Such a beautiful boy—just for me.”

Yubin pulled out, enjoying the dazed look (Name) had. His cloudy eyes while his pink lips were wet with salvia. It dripped on his chin as well as he breathed heavily from his mouth.

“Is your throat sore?”

(Name) numbly nodded, a light sigh leaving his lips. He couldn’t say much right now. His horny thoughts were to have his cock back in his mouth.

“It only took one try and you’re already going dumb… You were waiting for me.” Yubin grinned.

Yubin glanced wrapped a hand around his cock and began to rub it as he aimed it at (Name)’s open mouth. “For your sore throat, darling.”

In a second, cum shoot out into his mouth, causing (Name) to quickly shut it from almost choking. The rest of the semen fell on his face.

Some on his lips, cheeks, or even a bit close to his nose. He swallowed the little that made it into his mouth and groaned. It wasn’t really pleasant but he’d get used to it.

Yubin slipped off of him, pulling up his shorts. He glanced down at the twitching cock between (Name)’s legs, his hand still holding it but not moving.

“Poor baby. You tried to cum but you got caught up in pleasuring me.” Yubin said, removing (Name)’s hands to take over. “Is this why you didn’t want me to see? Because you’re so small?”

(Name) moaned in embarrassment. He always hated how small he was down there. It was only a mere three inches. Him being so buff also didn’t help with its size. It really only made it smaller than it actually was.

“Don’t worry, honey. I like it small,” Yubin muttered before engulfing it into his mouth. (Name) screamed out, having never been given a blowjob before.

He arched his back as he reached one hand down to grip at Yubin’s hair. It didn’t take long for him to cum, he was already so close. With a scream and a light thrust into the wet mouth he’s never felt before, he came.

Yubin pulled away, his mouth still full of cum and pulled (Name) into a kiss. (Name) grunted at the taste of his own cum but swallowed it, enjoying the feeling of Yubin’s lips on his.

A sudden pain on his lips made him pull away in shock. Yubin had a grin on his face. He did not just bite his lip!!

“Don’t cum without telling me, alright?”

(Name) nodded, a blush on his face. Yubin simply kissed him on the cheek and walked over to his connected bathroom to start a bath.

Did he now have a boyfriend…?

What they did was for couples, right?

“(Name), c’mon here.”

One thing he did know, was that he loved his throat being fucked.

He certainly needed to try his ass next.

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Hyung: title for older male friends or brothers from younger boys

Noona: title for older female friends or sisters from younger boys

How was Yubin? I turned his pervertedness up as well as readers. Poor himbo doesn’t know what he wants. :(

Yubin will be getting a short break though for Mr. Riki, the alpha bad boy! Stay tuned for his first fic

[which-item-poll]

Heya! I post daily polls featuring items from various websites and ask "which item would you rather own?" Pretty simple!

MY OFFICIAL TIKTOK (WIP)

I got inspiration from other gimmick blogs such as @apolladay @haveyoueatenthisfood @haveyouwatchedthiscartoon @haveyoureadthiscomic-poll @haveyoudrankthis @haveyouplayedthisirlgame-poll @haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll @haveyouheardthispodcast @haveyouheardthisband @haveyoureadthismanga-poll @myheroacademia-polls @spicypolls @thisthat-ortheother @doyoulikethisfont @doyoulikethissong-poll @haveyouplayedthisirlgame-poll @haveyouplayedthisgame @haveyoueatenthisfood @haveyoueatenthis @haveyouheardthisband @incognitopolls @pokesmashorpokepass @oc-smashorpass

(reblogs are appreciated!!)

Important information:

- I just post whatever I find on the internet. You might notice a lot of Sanrio/kawaii stuff and that’s just because I’m obsessed. Sorry lmao.

- There won't ever be a "neither" option, if the poll doesn't apply to you, vote randomly or just scroll!

- My queue is set to 5-10 posts a day & it's running from 5pm until 12am! (EST)

- If an item/design that I've posted is stolen or has been proven to be a scam, PLEASE LET ME KNOW AND I'LL EITHER CREDIT THE ARTIST OR DELETE IT! (I will need proof though)

- Please do not come here to create drama...i literally just want to make polls🤠👍

- Anon hate or ""criticism"" won't be responded to. I've seen the hate that other poll blogs get for nitpicky reasons and I won't be responding to any. Touch grass.

- NO POLITICS

- All the items are the EXACT ones you'd be owning, so try to take their color/style/utility and other factors into your decision!

- I do not accept links if you're on anon!

- I delete asks a lot (like an hour-ish after answering) because I dont like to flood my blog with non-polls, but i still wanna answer as many questions as I can! So if you send an ask, just be aware that it might not be up for too long.

- The websites will be in the tags & I will always credit Etsy/Redbubble/indie sellers! If you want to promote your store DON'T HESITATE TO ASK, I WILL POST A POLL WITH YOUR DESIRED ITEMS!

(Alternatively if you're an Etsy/redbubble/Indie seller that I've posted and you don't want your items up on here do not hesitate to contact me & I will remove it ASAP!)

Disclaimer: The reason why I don't ask indie stores directly if I can post their items beforehand is simply because I don't have the time. Imo I don't think it's necessary either, no store has asked me to take a poll down so far.

Tagging for NSFW polls:

- "Tw nsfw", and "nsft" (these will always be on NSFW polls)

- "Sex toys" (this will be tagged when I post sex toy polls. For example: Dildos, fleshlights, buttplugs etc)

- "Tw slight nsfw" (for very light nsfw content such as: chokers and anything with tiny implications of nsfw)

- "Tw nsfw language" (basically anything non-visual that's nsfw. for example, if I answer an ask about something sex related. this tag does NOT mean swearing, only sexual language.)

- "Tw bdsm" and "tw bondage" (these tags will always be on bdsm content such as ropes, handcuffs, gags, etc.)

HOW TO SUBMIT ITEMS:

[OPEN]

Use the submission tool on my blog to submit stuff!

- Use the EXACT same format that I use

- Copy & paste the item titles directly from the website

- Make sure that the prices aren't in frame

- The pictures must be as high quality as possible, or I will skip them

- If you're submitting Etsy or Redbubble items, make sure the 2 items are from the same seller!!

- Put the website in the tags or in the description

- Submit on mobile only, desktop doesn't work

Need more help? Use this post as reference!

RECOMMEND ME WEBSITES:

Suggest me websites here!

Sites that have already been suggested

Main blog: @moonlightaugust

^Last divider done by @prettypixels-love ^

#pinned #info #polls #please reblog if you can! #poll blog #updated as of 4/27/2024

[thehandsresisthim]

“pleasant surprise”

content: nsft, link (totk) x reader, d/s dynamics, fem!reader, miss/ma’am, pegging, soft dom!reader, no desc. of readers body

word count: ~700

You feel him nuzzle against your chest - check pressed across your tight fitting shirt.

“Warm…” he mumbles in a soft voice.

As you reach over to grab something from your desk, he suddenly seems a lot less calm, hands that were softly grabbing onto your hips suddenly digging into your skin.

“H-hah… ma’am…” he whimpers out as he throws his head back . “P-please…”

“No.” you say in a firm voice. “You’re not getting anything until I’m done with this essay.”

“Mmh-mmh…” he nods in agreement.

He’s been like that for 20 minutes now, you buried inside him whilst you work on an essay - and he gets nothing. No touching, no grinding, no asking for more.

His hands rest on your hips, occasionally grabbing your chair, but he doesn’t dare put them even near his dick. It’s throbbing, but all it’s getting is the occasional rub of the fabric of your shirt.

He has been begging for your touch for the entire day - but long classes at your uni, and you working on an important essay afterwards had made it difficult.

But you had come up with a solution to keep him entertained. Your strap. He’s sitting on your lap, whilst you sit on your chair at your desk, working on your essay. It’s a different one than the one you usually use, a few more ridges, but there’s no notable difference in size.

You had smiled mischievously at him as you helped prepare him to take it. “It’s different from what we usually use. I hope that it'll make you feel even better.”

So far, he hasn’t noticed any difference. Maybe you were wrong? But still, the pressure against that spot and how close he is to you, mixed with the burning humiliation of you being completely dressed, and him being nude - it’s enough to keep him excited.

You move again, and he whimpers. A “Please, ma’am…” escapes him before he can stop it.

You put your pencil down. “Mmh, I just need to write a few more words.” You gently wrap your arms around his waist and lean down to kiss his forehead. He’s once more made aware of your size difference - how much smaller he is in comparison to you.

“We’re going to try something new now, sweetheart, and if you don’t like it, please tell me immediately, okay? Then we’ll stop.” you say in a kind voice. His heartbeat quickens, both with excitement at what you’ve got planned for him, and with appreciation for how gentle you are with him.

“O-okay, ma’am.” he replies shyly.

Although he knew that he liked having a partner in the lead since he started dating, there always came some insecurities with it - it makes him vulnerable in a way he’s not used to. But you have always respected and cared for him, always made sure that everything was enjoyable for him…

You reach down to the strap and press a small button at the very base that he hasn’t noticed before. The toy inside of him starts vibrating.

He’s never felt something like this before.

Sure, you thrusting in and out of him felt good, but this is different.

He moans, loudly, and can’t find it in himself to stop.

“Ah - hah - w-what is? G… good…” is all Link manages to say. He squirms around and a fucked-out giggle escapes against his permission. “Th…tha… thank you… feel… good!”

You smile at him and gently kiss his forehead as you continue writing your essay.

“Sweetheart?” you ask in a kind voice.

“Y…yes…” he looks at you with a blissful expression as the strap whirs away inside of him.

“You can touch yourself, feel free to move all you want.” you instruct, “but… no cumming, okay?”

He pouts, but nods.

After a few minutes of the strap vibrating against him, he lazily starts humping his own hand. There’s no more structure to it, he’s too dumbed down to think properly. Link is still murmuring phrases, and occasionally drools on your shirt - as you write the last word, he starts frantically begging to cum.

“Ple-ase… miss… feels- can’t hold it-“

“H-hurts…”

You put your pen down and your hands join his on his dick, gentle, planned out strokes and teases.

“Shh… you’re doing so well… I’m so proud of you, my knight…”

“You have my permission, sweetheart.”

This seems to really do it for him. “T-thanks…” he drools on your shirt. With a loud moan, he feels himself get pushed over the edge.

“Th..ank you, thank you, thank you- I love you!”

“I love you too, Link.”

thank you for reading ♥️

#totk link #link x reader #dom reader #sub character #sub link #dom!fem!reader #fem!reader #totk smut #sub!link #link x y/n #link x you

[vermilionpearls]

❤️‍🔥 PAC: Dirty (+18) and sexual letter from your future spouse❤️‍🔥

This PAC includes their explicit letter, a song, and a quote.

I swear to God that if you are not of age and you read this, your guides will bother you and give such headache that you will have to take a nap that lasts, at least, 4 hours.

@vermilionpearls is @pearl-tarotist NSFT (+18) blog!

“Lean in to kiss me in all the places where the ache is the most special.” ( Sanober Khan)

PILE 1

(5oC -10oP – Page of Cups – Page of Swords – 4oC – 5oW – The Lovers)

“I hate to see you with someone else. It pains me to see you with others and I hate even more that you are willing to put your attention on them. You make me so jealous and mad; I hate your indifference and I just want to make you mine. I want to mark you and make you realize you are mine.

I hate the fact that we are away from each other and that I must conform myself just to the thought of you. And when I think about you, my future partner, my wife… I am just able to picture you with others at your feet, trying to worship you when it should be MY position.  I am willing to fight anybody to make you mine and I want to be the only one loving you. I want to touch, caress, and lick the soft meat of your legs. I want to walk my fingers over your skin and see the goosebumps forming on your body. I want your legs to shake and to be unable to move. I want them around my body, and I want your weight on top of me, tired, restless and at my mercy. I want to take care of you.

I touch myself at the thought of you, even if I don’t know you yet, I can imagine all the things I want to do to you. I can imagine your moans and raspy breaths, the warmness of your tongue on my tip and the strength of my hands in between your hair. I want to be the only one to see you like that. And I want to grab your ass and spank it once for every time you let any other man touch you. The image of it just makes my movements faster, I want to orgasm at the thought of you. When you will be mine, you won’t be able to return to anybody else. Your pleasure will become mine too.

And I swear that I will be so good to you, I will get down on my knees and I will make your mind go blind and void, and I will make your eyes roll until you faint while I am tasting and enjoying your wetness. All your attention will be on me.

Think of me when you touch yourself too. Do not let other see you in the way I will see you. Hide your face from them, cause if I know they can see you in that way: eyes closed, cheeks red and mouth open I will go crazy. They are not worthy of you. It just makes me so mad that I have to bite my lips not to scream and moan. I have to be the only one to see that expression of your face. I am the only one that can cum at the thought of you and to the thought of your face.

I want the cum that falls in my hands to fall in your face and lips, that's the only thought I can cum to.

God, why did you have to be so pretty?".

"Hate to sound sleazy,but tease me,I don't want it if it's that easy" (Tupac Shakur).

PILE 2

(8oP – Page of Cups – The Empress – 8oC – 4oS – The Lovers – 9oP – 6oC )

“My love,

The mere thought of you dominates me, but it seems that I am a no one to you. No matter where I go or what I am doing your energy and aura cannot leave me alone. You are always on my mind, in the most dark and hidden corner. You burn me to frustration. I have so many fantasies of you and of what I want to do to you that I am unable to express them …  You do not give me the chance to do so, and your indifference just makes me want to chase you even more. Stop blocking our relationship or the messages that I am sending you. You dominate me, my thoughts, and actions. But it’s not the same for you. Stop paying attention to others.

(It is possible that he has tried to reach you, but you are blocking him, I don’t know if mentally or physically…).

Every time I see you or think about you, I must fix up my pants because my dick starts throbbing and twisting without control. It makes things so complicated, having to hide the effect you have on me to others. Do you enjoy the power you have over me? I cannot tell as you do not dare to look at me.

But I look at you… And you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.  You are independent, abundant, beautiful, clever and Jesus!... You have such a beautiful body. Your curves drive me crazy, and I just cannot stop looking at you and that chest of yours…round and heavy in my hands. I want to bite and suck your nipples while you close your eyes and enjoy the sensation. Your own body is an invitation to enjoyment.

But you always hold that expression of your face as if you were better than me, you make me feel so dangerous, as if I was the one causing all our feelings, as if I was a wolf chasing you… Why do you feel so much shyness? Why are you acting so innocent, little angel? I know you want me to make you surrender. We both know that this is a fake act. You want me to beg because it feels good to you, you want me to cry for your consent. You feel powerful when you make me go dumb and irrational.

              You love it when I tell you I want you to touch me and that I want to touch you, you act all shy but the wetness between your legs cannot lie. No matter how much you want to hide it, you always end up with the taste of my fingers in your mouth… You like it when I push your limits. And those eyes of yours are so angelic and at the same time so dirty that they make me want to push you even more. I cannot wait to fuck you and see how your boobs move when I thrust into you. I swear to God that your body is so hypnotic that when I focus on it I feel like dying, I could cum in seconds, you make me so horny and needy it’s embarrassing. You feel so good and warm… There’s no better place in this Earth than inside of you.

I can not wait to treat you as you deserve, as a queen. Please let me show you how good I am, I have been working hard to become the emperor and the man that you need and deserve. I can not wait to fight with you for the throne that we both want, that would make you put your attention on me, right?

Always yours, (their name)”.

+ Stuff: they really love your bobs! (No matter if they are small, big... They do not care). – They felt really offended at first when you did not care about their first approaches to you. – They really think you are the most beautiful and powerful woman ever.

"Anyone who is observant, who discovers the person they have always dreamed of, knows that sexual energy comes into play before sex even takes place. The greatest pleasure isn't sex, but the passion with which it is practiced. When the passion is intense, then sex joins in to complete the dance, but it is never the principal aim." (Paulo Coelho).

PILE 3

(Page of Cups – Knight of Wands – The High Priestess – the Hanged man – 10 of Cups – Ace of Swords)

“Finally! It made a lot of time that I wanted to communicate with you, I was getting so stressed and worried, darling! Thanks for coming to me. The first thing I want to do when I meet you is embracing you and finally feeling your whole body, your complete self. I know you are going to be perfect in my embrace.

At first, I will want to take you far away from everybody, I would like it to be just you and me. And I want it to be such a pleasuring trip, I want the best for you, honestly. You make me feel so soft and safe that I just want the same for you and the only way I know how to do it is by kissing you shoulders and back lovingly and slowly. I want things to be slow and deep, I want you to realize how much I love you and how much I desire you and respect you. You are like an ancient masterpiece that I have to take care of with and endless amount of patience and dedication.

              I will make love to you. I will focus only on you and I will lick and press all the right places and zones. I want to hug you while I am fucking you, kissing you and twisting your nipples. I want to press and push your clit so softly and delicately that you will feel overwhelmed with my love.

              I swear I will make that trip so pleasuring to you. I won’t stop touching you, no matter if others can see… I will fuck you and caress you until you are tired, sleepy, and satisfied between my arms. I will even stop on the side of the road if that’s what your body is asking of me.

Ultimately, I will focus so much on you and in your beauty; on how much you seem to understand and balance me that I will just find myself upside down. As if my whole world had just changed due to your presence. I will always look at you and those pretty legs of yours. I will make myself upside down so I can just get a better look at you, at your whole figure and at your most sensitive spot. I don’t care if it will change my attitude as it is possible that it is for the best. You will make so malleable that it is shameful; it’s shameful how little I will care.

You could tie me up to the bed, use me, play with me and I would still love it because it is you. I love to hear all your dirty ideas and words, it made me feel like a young boy again, your love makes me feel rejuvenate. The love and the emotional fulfillment when we are one is the beginning of a new era for me and there’s no words to describe how that makes me feel.

Thank you for appearing in my life, I love you a lot”.

+Stuff: there was a nickname that appeared so quick! But I don’t think it was for everyone, so I did not include it in the letter and it was: “my little wild flower”. – Not just that but this group is fond of nicknames…darling, babe, honey… - The majority of girls is going to have black or brunette hair… that’s something that is going to be really attractive to your fs. – This letter is not as explicit as others because your fs wanted to focus on the emotional side and how much they love you and want to make you feel good.

"What's a fuck when what I want is love?" (Henry Miller).

#tarot pac #tarotblr #pac #nsft tarot #free tarot #future spouse tarot #love tarot #pap #pick a pile #pick a picture #spotify #Spotify

[astarion-approves]

Astarion x GN! Reader drabble 700 words

NSFT - A show of ownership

Public sex / penetration / biting / bareback

"You know, we could try something a little more… interesting tonight. If you would be so kind as to indulge me."

Astarion's eyes study you, unfraid, excited even.

His smile mischievous, stricking you in the heart and making it flutter. What kind of thoughts run through his mind when you're not there to listen?

He steps closer to you, lowering those sinful lips to your ears, whispering so only you can hear his voice…

"I want to show everyone just how much I love you… Consider it a rather exposing show of affection."

His smile grows, only Astarion knows what plans he has in store for you.

And it was like nothing you could have imagined.

You're bent over his velvet stool, your hands bound behind you back with a flimsy leather belt. The stool is soft against your exposed skin, the deep red only reminding you of the color of your blood… however the texture and color only aids you in your blush as you entire body flushes in embarrassment and–

Desire.

"Such a pretty little thing you are… like a work of art just waiting to be devoured."

Astarion stands behind you, shirtless, his skin glowing from the moon that watches the two of you. It feels like it's stare is mocking you, a punishment for falling for such a dangerous blood sucking creature.

"I feel it's only fair to let the others watch for a change, don't you?"

And finally it all comes together. You glance behind yourself, hungy eyes watching as your lover removes the rest of his clothing, and you spot the faint shine of your teams eyes as they join in for the show.

They hide in the darkness, but even as you force yourself to look away you can still feel the gaze of others as Astarion settles behind you.

His hands caress your backside, his thumbs tracing over your cheeks and carefully exposing you. He laughs as he places the pad of his thumb over your entrance, applying only a touch of pressure as he slips it inside of you.

"Mh."

Each time Astarion has you is even better than the last. Your minds come together, flashes of your love fill your mind. Always under the moonlight, away from the others, kissing softly, each press of his lips against yours filled with whispers of love and eagerness.

But now, Astarion laughs. His thumb slides in and out of you, teasing you, torturing you in a way that only Astarion could manage.

"I'm sliding in now. Be a darling and don't hold back a single moan."

As if you ever could.

Your jaw drops as he enters you, his length longer than your previous lovers, but it slides deep enough to have the others gasping as you moan.

The vampire is merciless as he fucks you, his fingernails digging into your hips as he claims you in the middle of the camp.

You know that he's doing this as a display of ownership, of his new found power and his own freedom. That he dares any one of the others members to approach you for anything outside of gossip or advice.

Although he may not admit it, Astarion cares for you. More than you'll ever know.

And this is his way of showing it.

You feel his teeth scrape over the side of your neck, a silent request for permission as he continues to thrust into you.

You grant it, nodding as hold onto the stool, willing the poor thing to survive as you're pressing into it over, and over, and over again.

Astarion bites down, the vampire moaning as your blood rushes into his mouth, his tongue lapping over the wound as he carefully sucks on your soft fragile skin.

His hips begin to sputter, his thrusts into you coming more wildly, almost out of control as he aims for his climax.

He bites down harder, a scream ripping from your throat as the pain mixed with pleasure makes you cum first. A feat Astarion is proud of.

Soon he's finishing after you, his hips pounding into your back side as he empties himself inside of you. His seed filling your entance and slowly dripping out as he pulls away from you, now completely spent.

For now, the show is over, the others retreating back to their tents as Astarion pulls you into his arms for a much needed cuddle.

"And now they'll know just who you belong to."

~~~~~~~~

End note: Yes a little fucked with his storyline but it is what it is. Hope you enjoyed this little drabble.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x you #nsft #gn! reader #Astarion x gn reader #spoilers #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #baldur's gate spoilers #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #no beta #no proof reading lol #velvet writing

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

NSFT Alphabet: Infernal Sin!Fool's Gold

-you have a big storm coming for you meme here-

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

He is not a gentle nor kind lover. He is the Lord of the Seven Hells, King of the 72 demons of Goetia, the Lord of Infernal Sin; and if you want a gentle lover then look to Orphan of Goetia, NOT HIM. Aftercare is handled by the Beholder of His Heart (Norton), the love is for the human to give to you and to express when he takes care of you. Loving you, checking on you, giving you the post-sex intimacy you need.

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

Everything, he is obsessed with you. Obsessed with all that he has claimed on many days and nights

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

Hot and glowing cum, he likes to be dirty with it when with you. Making you open your mouth and keep it there before drinking it, making you wear your clothes with his cum still in or on you, cumming on your hair or clothes-- He a nasty mf

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

There are times he possesses the Orphan of Goetia to fuck you in a mortal shell, to feel the difference between skin on skin versus skin on rock. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He has fucked a 1000 upon a 1000 of mortals, and few can claim to be his favorite. You are one of them <3

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Again, full nelson

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

Serious, very mean playful

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Literal rocks so no hair

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

There is nothing romantic about this, he fucks to indulge and to mark you as his. This is for him, he just so happens to like you enjoying it too

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Why? He has you, he has his counterpart, he has that worshiper, and he could have another mortal or demon. So he doesn’t need to masturbate when he can grab someone to play with

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dacryphilia, Bukkake, Forniphilia, Humiliation, Impact Play, Degradation, basically get ready for kink town with him

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He will do it anywhere he damn pleases, sorry you do not get much say in that

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

Literally the king of sin, he can be read to go at random moments or because he is bored

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

Gentle and do not ask him to be submissive

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

He likes doing both giving and receiving but he likes making you cock warm his cock with your mouth

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

Fast and rough, slow but deep when he is teasing and edging you

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

Quickies are fun to keep you ready for him later

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

A lot of risks with him

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

A lot. Pray, seriously 

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

No, only he can touch you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Painfully unfair

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

He can be vocal, will growl, talkative as he reminds you who is fucking you and how you feel amazing

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

He sometimes invites that mystic dancer to peg you so he can watch you both

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

12in uwu

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

High sex drive, pray you can handle him

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He does not sleep because he does not need to sleep lol

#idv #identity v x reader #idv x reader #reader insert #identity v #identity v x you #idv fool's gold #fool's gold x reader #fool's gold #fool's gold x you #norton campbell x reader #norton campbell #norton campbell x you #identity v fool's gold #idv x you

[sashi-ya]

五 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗦 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡𝗧: 𝐒𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐀 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐦𝐞[+18] 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚡 𝙵! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

✦ request: anonymous asked: hello!!! can i please request for “A different perfume” with daddy Shanks x fem’reader? 👀👀👀 ➜ of course! it's been quite some time since I last wrote for Shanks, so I kinda enjoyed it a lot! Have fun with this fine sir :3 ✦ tw: NSFT. cheating? rough sex. nipple play. vag. creampie. ✦ masterlist

A loud thump, and the doors of your hotel room opening with a slam. The light filtering through it hit your eyes and it blinds you for at least some seconds, though, you know Shanks has come back home.

Your eyes are still swollen from how much you’ve cried until falling asleep; why he has to do this every damn time? Getting drunk with his friends at Party’s bar? That woman, she is always so sweet to him, and both have quite a past story together… but now, he is with you… so then, why, he goes away from you to spend the nights there while you stay at Foosha village.

“Sh-shanks?” you ask, trying to hide your face into the surrounding dark of your room.

“Baaaaby, I’m back!! Give me some kisses!!” he stumbles upon his own feet, screaming. He hits something against the little table of the hotel room with full clumsiness. Shanks is, for yet another night, drunk.

He drags himself, while he manages to take his white shirt off, to your bed. Shanks flops into your mattress making you jump, but you are used to it so you just turn around facing the wall.

“C’mon… don’t be mad, it’s our last night heeere” he says, hiccupping and sliding towards you with difficulty.

His warm hands round your waist, with that ever-soft touch he manages to still have even while drunk. And as delicate he can be, you know he is nothing like that when lust overcomes his mind.

“Leave me alone, Shanks. You are completely wasted; if you cared about our last night in here you could have stayed with me!” you scream, nuzzling into your pillow. You don’t want him to see your face, nor see his. Deep inside, you are scared of seeing lipstick marks on his neck.

Shanks huffs. “You said you wanted to stay in bed! Why didn’t you tell me that? Or why couldn’t you come with us? I missed you! C’mere, come closer to your daddy” he sloppily says, while pulling your body towards him.

Your back hits his wide chest, his big hands are now pressing onto your lower belly so that your ass can feel the instant grow of his erection.

“No. No sex for you tonight. You smell like alcoh… like alcohol and…” you become silent. There is more than the scent of sake and his usual skin odor; He smells like a different woman’s perfume.

The red haired man, confused and yet so nonchalant doesn’t understand what you are about to say, but he keeps acting -or trying to- cute towards you.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Bed. NOW” you order. Turning around violently and pushing him away.

Shanks gasps. He still doesn’t get it. And probably won’t until you tell him. “But why? Is not the first time I got drunk with the guys, (Name)! calm down!” he says, shaking his drunk state away in some seconds.

“You… you smell like another’s woman perfume. You… you dared to cheat on me…” you painfully tell him, with tears again sprouting from your eyes, blurred vision with rage and grief.

Shanks tilts his head to side. A subtle curl forming on the corner of his lips. “Did I, (Name)?” he asks, coming at you who have already jumped off bed.

You blink twice. Why… the hell… is he acting that way?

He instantly pushes you against the wall, turning you around with your cheek pressed on that cheap hotel wallpaper. Your wrists, pinned against your back, him holding you with just one hand.

“So, you think I cheated on you? Hmm? Aren’t you a sweet jealous girl?” he grunts in your ear, making your legs to quiver and your world spin around.

“You… Shanks… don’t do this to me…” you whine, as his leg spreads yours. His body is your weakness, his sex your doom.

He scoffs, biting your shoulder so sexily. “I am not doing anything you don’t want; you want me to stop? Tell me so” he challenges you, and you know he will absolutely let you go if you asked for it. But you don’t want it; your body says it wants more… even if you are mad, so mad at him.

“Ngh… no… don’t…stop” your lips move on their own; you grimace at yourself… how can he have this strong power over you, that even yourself can’t go against.

Shanks scoffs, the yonkou knows your body like nobody else in this world. Every inch, every part and that little mole on your lower back.

He plants a sweet kiss on your shoulder, and then uses his teeth to let the fine strap of your night gown slide off. It slowly falls down, getting stuck on your breasts against the wall, so, Shanks barely moves you back to separate you from it.

When the dress finally falls to your feet, he turns you around violently enough to hit your back against the wall. Shanks take the time to adore your erected nipples, the way your breasts were presented to him like if they were nothing but his treasure.

“So many women, but none like you…” he moans, getting closer to cup one of your boobs into his hand while kneeling for his mouth to reach it out. As his lips get any closer, he takes just the tip of his tongue to lick your nipple. Then, he softly blows on it. Thus, it gets harder and your sweet moaning reaches his ears.

You stay there, debating whether you should now run your fingers through his crimson hair or simply allow him to suck and devour you. But ultimately, and as he nibbles on you so deathly, you finally grab a fistful of his hair.

Pulling his head back and forth, you encourage for him to keep doing just exactly that. It makes you whine, and moan and your legs tremble and your panties dampen.

And that wet spot, that Shanks adore to find, meet his crimson eyes finally. A smirk on his sexy façade, and his hand reaching for it with no shame. Index playing over your lingerie, spreading such wetness around, playing with your labia and your sanity.

“So wet for me, aren’t you? That’s why you are so jealous… you desire me, you want me just for you, don’t you?” he asks, licking his fingertip.

Your cheeks burn, you can’t look at him. After all, he is right. You can’t say no to him, you just want him for your own… only yours, every single night just for you.

“Did the cat got your tongue, baby?” he asks, laughing and then nuzzling right on your core. He inhales deeply, getting a reach taste of your arousal. Thing he clearly enjoys. “I’m so glad your fragrance is one in a million… you smell so good, so delicious… you are so unique, doll. Your perfume can’t be found anywhere”  

Sweet nothings that make you shiver. He dares to comment on your perfume when he actually smells like another women’s perfume… what an asshole… what a sexy asshole… that knows exactly, so precisely, what to do with your needy body.

Shanks lips are now placed over your absolutely dripping wet panties. A fabric that’s almost transparent, that Shanks will make even wetter with his tongue. He sucks, playing with that sensation of fine humid cloth over overheated sex.

You squirm, once again reaching for his hair. “Just… do it…” you beg, asking so desperately for him to pull your underwear finally down. But the more you plead, the more he will make you wait.

“So desperate… what else are you desperate for, (Name)? You want my dick deep inside of you? You want me to fill you with my cum and leave your cunt dripping with it? You want me to make you scream my name and beg for more?” he asks, his ego is as big as his erection.

You bite your lower lip. The warmth of his breathe over your wetness is making you insanely needy; and even if you wish to disagree you can’t… “Yes, all of those things and more. Fuck me please, I want more”

“Heh…” he smirks, pulling your panties off in a violent swift motion. You almost fall, but his nose and mouth stop you from it. It’s like you are about to face sit him, and that’s exactly what he wants.

With just one hand, Shanks is able to move you around as he pleases and so, by pushing your ass against his mouth your sex covers half his face. You can feel him scoffing on your sex, using his tongue to penetrate you, drinking your lustful elixir, sucking your clit from time to time.

Your eyes become white; you can’t take it any longer… orgasm is on its way.

Shanks sometimes needs to stop to take some air, even if you are the one that can’t breath properly. Your chest goes up and down, hastily trying to infuse some oxygen into your blood, in your concupiscence fogged brain.

And as climax is about to hit, and Shanks is willing to drink it all, he uses his thumb to rub up and down your pleasure button… he knows how to make you explode. And he has just achieved it.

You tremble against his mouth, while he keeps sucking and licking and when it’s almost over you are thrown to the bed still in heaven.

“Ask me to fuck you” he orders, letting his brownish capri fall to the ground. “Fuck me, please…” you whine, with dishevelled hair and still panting.

Hard as a rock he climbs to the bed, lifting your legs up his shoulders. He loves that position, because he can go deeper that way and the way gravity works makes his cum to slide even deeper inside you.

You curl your back; with your head thrown back and your chest up, you take the first thrust. No soft slide in but impaling you with no mercy he begins to fuck you. You try to grasp the sheets, but you can’t even do it as he goes in and out so hard.

“Do you… really… thought… I fucked another… woman??” he asks, each word making his thrusts more violent.

“You- you …” you whine, trying to argue back, grimacing as yet again climax approaches.

Shanks bends forward to you, making you fold as if you were made of gum, feeling as the tip of his sex has stretched you to the point you can feel it in your lungs.

He grabs your cheeks in between his fingertips, squeezing and moving your head to the side. “Look at that…ngh…” he says, in between orgasmic waves hitting his core.

You blink, noticing a little packaging standing right on the bedside table. “Foosha Perfumerie” it says, engraved in it with golden letters.

“You idiot!... ah… fuck… fuck~” “An idiot, yes. But only for you… your perfume is hella difficult to find, so I asked them for a new one! now… keep it all inside, alright?”

#shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x you #one piece x reader #shanks smut #shanks one piece #shanks hc #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece shanks #shanks headcanons #shanks x y/n #oh royal lust event #red haired shanks #shanks imagine #sashi ya #one piece x you #sashi-ya

[rabbit-or-rib]

Rubbing my hands together like a evil fly

What's up pookie how are you, I have another request of it's okay :3

Some sfw and NSFW headcanons for Tim and Evan?

(the volleyball ones were so good I was giggling and kicking my legs ngl)

-🐟

HIII FISHY !! i'm soso happy you liked them :33 lmk if any of this should change !!

[NSFT] 🚬☠️ Tim Wright / Evan Myers x gn!reader sft and nsft headcanons :)

· · ·

Tim :

[SFT]

sappy guy honestly

he's got a lot of walls for you to get through, but as soon as you do he's the SWEETEST

he's a family man i can tell you that

whether that's y'all and some kids or y'all and some pets is up to you

he's the kinda guy to slow dance in the kitchen with you, quietly humming and tracing small circles into your back

he feels so guilty for it, but he does have a lot of reoccurring nightmares given what he's been through

he made need space, he may need comfort, but he just doesn't want you to be scared

that's honestly a major fear of his, making you scared of him in any way

it's a lot of his job and day to day, but he doesn't wanna do that to you. he knows you, he's let you into his life, he wants to keep you there

he honestly and truly does his best to keep you happy

he knows he can't get you everything he wishes he could, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try to make it up to you in other ways

[NSFT]

SPEAKING OF OTHER WAYYSSS

lord have mercy does this man love to praise you

every little thing you do, every little noise you make, he thinks it's the sweetest thing

not to say he won't be absolutely demolishing you, but he's definitely gonna be whispering deep, gravely praises into your ear while he does it

you have an almost constant hum of a low, "yeahh, that feel good, pretty? doin' so good for me, just a little more, i know you've got it in ya"

LOOOVES FUCKING YOU FROM THE BACK 🗣️

the control he has to use you however he wants reaaally gets him going

and he likes that you get to be as loud as you want, since most of the time he lasts long enough for your arms give out holding your body up that you're just a moaning mess against the pillows

he has

a secret

that he is EMBARRASSEDDDDDD about

it makes his head spin when you mark up his neck

he's so sensitive, poor thing has to grab onto your hips with a vice grip to keep himself grounded

if you catch him in the right moment while you're riding him and go for his neck, it's one of the few times you can hear him whimper

Evan :

[SFT]

HE IS SUCH A GOOF

complete dork and we love him for it

he's so obviously head over heels for you and it's the sweetest

if you like to talk about drama from work, school, etc he is PERFECT for over the top reactions

i feel like you guys have a lot of those moments where if there's a beat of silence in a conversation or just in general as soon as you guys make eye contact you burst out laughing at literally nothing

likes to play his music LOUDD

especially in the shower or while he's cleaning he is jamming way tf out and he absolutely wants you to join him

i think physical touch, words of affirmation and quality time are big things for him, so even if you're just there sitting on the couch while he's blasting music and smiling at him, he's over the moon

he's so silly and such a sap he'd do anything for you ☹️

[NSFT]

i can't imagine a world where Evan isn't loud

loves having you on top, you having any kind of control over him makes him melt

he is such a mess when he gets head

he's grabbing at anything he can, throwing his head back to let out whimpers and moans of your name

"o-ohh my god- babe please, please please it's s'much-"

HE CAN BE A SWEETHEART SOFT DOM THO

pressing your legs against your chest, panting and whimpering while trying his best to stay focused and keep an actual rhythm but you just feel so good around him his hips stutter and jolt against the back of your thighs

he always loves getting to see your face during anything

he wants to know he's doing good, and if he gets to watch your eyes roll back and hear you gasp out his name it's all he needs

he likes to talk you through it 😛

you could be on top riding him and as soon as he knows you're close he'd have a hand gripping your thigh or holding your hand, his voice low and adoring at he tells you "come on, baby, i got you, cum for me. i'm right here, i knoww, it feels so good, huh?"

#🐟 #evan myers x reader #evan myers smut #tim wright x reader #tim wright smut #everymanhybrid x reader #marble hornets x reader #rabbit writings

[strangerxperv]

Christmas Headcanons with Eddie Munson

Warnings: SMUT, Minors Go Mine Coal, Teens Don't Interact, NSFT/NSFW, Christmas puns, fluffy smut, creaming pies/ unprotected sex (be safe), breeding, unsafe use of whipped cream, curvy reader, reader is described as warm/ hot, large titties, thickie thighs, Eddie eats you for his own enjoyment, Eddie has a large peepee and he knows how to use it, hinted spiting into face/mouth, deep throating, you end up tied up, a song is made, and sexual presents under the Christmas tree.

Eddie Munson X Curvy Reader

This is a personal Secret Santa Gift for a special someone in the Discord server I'm in. I was really lucky to get you as my person for this event. I always get a sly grin whenever I interact with you and it makes my day. You're the best Lea!

Eddie likes sex. Loves it actually. But sex during December is his favorite because it's the month of giving.

Sex with Eddie has a tendency to be more playful during this month.

Decorating with Eddie is nearly impossible and takes a significant amount of time to complete. It takes days because he can't keep his hand from you.

He's always touching you in some way.

Wrapping some garland around you as a scarf, innocent. But it brings to mind an unavoidable sexual conclusion for you both.

He can't stop himself from tying you up with the festive garland. It's wrapped around your wrists and waist so he can grip it. Fucking you deeply the harsh material bites and rubs onto your skin.

Afterwards he has to lather lotion on the lasting marks. Guess garland isn't a safe restraint after all but it was a fun one time thing.

That doesn't stop him from tying you up with Christmas lights.

The lights are definitely turned on and the room is softly illuminated with them.

The sight of you entangled with the pretty multi colored lights has him hypnotized. Your tits are framed by your trapped wrists and bounce with each forceful thrust.

It's also important to note that he found your slay bells. Those get tied around your ankles which are thrown over his shoulder. "Wanna make music with you baby."

That leads to him recording your moans and the sounds of the bells ringing with each jump of your legs. Then he writes up a Christmas song with the band, it's called "When the Slay is Rocking don't Come (Cum?) Knocking."

The lights eventually get set up and the next day the tree gets set up. The tree is set up suspiciously fast when nothing causes Eddie to distract you.

Tension builds as he sweetly helps you place the lights, bobbles, candy canes, garland, tinsal, and star topper.

His hands clap loudly cutting into silence causing you to jump, surprised. Eddie's lips are spit wide in a cat that got the cream grin, "Now that we're done...wanna christen the tree?"

Eddie lays you under the tree while it glows in the dark room. So you can watch the dazzling lights glimmer off the various bobbles. But you can't take your eyes off him.

His face is lit up softly while the darkness of the room wraps around him, contrasting. Framing him and taking your breath away.

Like the soft slow thrusts that tell you he loves you. It's not often that Eddie makes love to you. He prefers to fuck you till you're both overstimulated and twitching.

But sometimes he needs you to feel how you make him feel. How deeply he truly loves you. His thrust though slow are deeply kissing your depths. Gently tapping your cervix to pull back and nudge your spot.

He takes you apart and afterwards he collects you to nap under the twinkling tree.

It's then, when you're wrapped in a soft Christmas themed blanket cuddled up to him. It's your warmth that causes Eddie to decide he never wants another hot bodied person. He never wants anyone other than you.

Eddie stuff your stocking and you stuff his. He puts various things in that you'll like. Treats, small sex toys, gift cards, trinkets, and at the toes there's a small black box.

Hidden amongst the decorations Eddie has mistletoe hung in every room. Some are easy to spot and some are a happy accident when you find them.

The first night you get stuck under one is in bed. The bastard hung it over your side of the bed and he's so smug.

He tells you that if you cheat and leave without a kiss you'll no doubt be punished. He's begging you to fuck this up.

Which leads to you begging him to kiss you so you can brush your teeth. It's a shame you forgot to do that before sliding into bed. Guess you'll have to make it worth his while.

Eddie was just complaining about being hungry and your cunt would really solve that.

Eddie spends hours making out with your soppy pussy. French kissing your clenching hole and sucking your stiff clit. Deep bite marks, that will bruise for days, on your thick thighs every time you close your legs (around his head).

He has to hold them open with a tight grip pushing onto your inner upper thighs. Dimpling the giving flesh with more bruises.

He makes you cum many times before he lets you up. Your shaking legged walk makes him giggle when you shamble into the adjacent bathroom.

At Christmas movie night you both decide to make hot chocolate. Somehow the whipped cream ends up in Eddie's hands. He's looking at it and looking at you. And he needs you to lick it off his cock.

It's not a want. No, it's a desperate carnal need thats got his balls in a crushing grip.

It's a good thing you like whipped cream and love his cock.

Your knees hurt where you kneel on the wooden floor. Your mouth is split wide and your jaw is unhinged while his cock is lodged.

It started with you licking the sweet treat from his leaking tip. But quickly devolved into Eddie fucking your throat. Nose pressed into his fluff almost as hard as his cock is pressing inside your throat.

His own mouth is gaping with groans seeping out from between plush lips. Long tongue licks his lower lip when you splutter out a gagged cough.

Drool froths and slips onto your bare tits where it pools between them. One of his hands is wrapped around your throat to feel his cock bulging in your straining esophagus. It's taking more of your breath away causing you to silently gasp.

Triggering his orgasm to spill down your throat but you can't swallow it all. It fills your mouth then slips between your vacuum sealed lips. Eddie's grip loosens finally to gently pull out of your filled cavern.

His fat leaky tip is wiped onto your swollen lips, "Swallow it all or I'll drink your cocoa." His threat is hollow after such a well given sloppy toppy. But you've never wasted his cum and won't start now. Licking the cum from your lips and his cock only furthers to make him obsessed.

It's Christmas Day that you ask him to give you the ultimate gift. A thorough breeding. Up until this point he's always worn a condom or pulled out. But tonight you want him bare and deeply cumming into you.

Whose he to spit into your face after such a perfect gift...maybe he should spit in your mouth instead.

Surrounded by gifts and wrapping paper and once again under the tree, he fucks you. Hands gripped under your knees and pressed onto your heaving fat tits. Your own smaller hands are holding onto his hands.

He cums into you but doesn't stop. He keeps going until he cums again and again. Your mingled cum cakes onto the carpet slicking your skin.

Once you're filled and a pillow is tilting your ass in the air he gives you your stocking.

"What'd ya say? Wanna be mine?"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #stranger things smut #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson x reader fanfiction #eddie munson x curvy reader #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff

[dlscenarios]

NSFT Headcanons - Asmodeus

The last of the Obey Me hcs series 😭

MDNI

-> Surprisingly, he has a fairly normal sex drive. He won’t want to have sex 24/7, despite popular belief since he’s the avatar of lust.

-> His first few romps were just one night stands in the Devildom. The first time he made love was with a certain human exchange student, if you catch my drift.

-> He went ALL OUT on his first time with you. Like Dia, Asmo covered the room with candlelight and spread out rose petals.

-> Another one that LOVES when you touch his horns. He swears he could cum just from that.

-> LOUD in bed and he knows it. He’s even suggested using a gag on him. Two birds, one stone I guess.

-> LOVES shibari, actually. He likes the pretty designs.

-> MAJOR SWITCH.

-> Technically no favorite position, but is quite fond of having sex in front of a mirror.

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me shall we date #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me asmo x reader #obey me asmo smut

[thelaughtercafe]

Heat*

Tea Type: Milk Tea

Potential Triggers: Full nsft in this one! This is honestly just nsft with the barest bit of plot

Pairing: Edward Elric/F!Reader

Length: 1.3k+

Summary: After a heated argument, and an emotional confession, things get passionate in a much more fun way.

“I cannot believe how reckless you are! You could’ve been killed!”

You straightened at the yell, glaring right back at Ed as you crossed your arms, lips pressed in a thin line as he continued scolding you unabated.

“You’ve no place on the battlefield! You have no way to protect yourself; if I hadn’t shown up when I did-”

“Oh but it’s okay when you put yourself at risk every day?”

You angrily rubbed at the tears forming, trying to stay strong.

“I’m sorry I did something stupid and that I scared you but goddamnit at least you know how I feel every time you go charging into battle after battle! I know you’re grateful to Roy for all he did for you and Al but there are other ways to repay him! Every time you sneak out in the morning without saying goodbye and think I don’t hear you when for all I know; it might be the last time I see your stupid face!”

You were openly sniffling now and looked away in embarrassment and annoyance.

Ed was uncharacteristically silent and you suddenly stiffened as his gloved fingers brushed away the last of your tears and he cradled your face, making you look at him. His eyes were still frustrated, but there was something warm just behind them too. Still, his next words made you scowl, however soft they were.

“Promise me you’ll never do something that reckless again.”

“Can you honestly promise me the same?”

He looked down in shame a brief moment before he smiled sadly and shook his head, meeting your gaze again.

“…You know I can’t.”

Your anger was back full force and his hands on you were admittedly making you woozy so you stepped back, out of his intoxicating grip, hating how even that simple touch left you breathless.

Despite the pain that twisted your heart, you knew he was right. You smirked weakly and gave a sarcastic huff of laughter under your breath as you made your way to the door, half mumbling to yourself more than him in your anguish.

“Ha. Leave it to me to fall in love with the most self destructive brat I’ve ever met who doesn’t even drink his stupid milk-”

You flinched as just as you turned the doorknob and went to open it further a hand jerked forward and closed it again, grabbing your wrist with the other hand and flipping you to glare passionately into your gaze.

Your eyes still were teary and his own burned with the weight of his grief and all he had to do but your lips met and abruptly it was as if an inferno was birthed where an unlit match soaked in gasoline had once been.

And oh, did that inferno rage.

Once you began you couldn’t stop.

The kiss you’d craved for so long was insatiable. You couldn’t get enough. The momentary breaks for air felt inconsequential. You didn’t need air, didn’t need anything but the intoxicating, bruising kisses he delivered again and again before his lips abruptly moved to your neck and you moaned, tangling your fingers in his dirty blond locks.

It didn’t take you both long to stumble towards the bed, losing clothes along the way with grumbles and curses and giddy laughter.

It was like your relationship; rough at a first glance but sweet at its core.

A smirk adorned his lips , something primal awakening in him that took you by surprise as he pinned you down with your hand on either side of your face.

“Sure you can handle me sweetheart?”

At your dazed nod he chuckled huskily, head already ducking to heatedly meet your lips again.

“Heh. Who knew all I had to do to shut you up was make you stupid from pleasure.”

Your eyes lit at that and you playfully bit his lip, making him pull back with a hiss.

“Fucking brat.”

Ed didn’t curse often, but suddenly you were glad for it. It had way too much of an effect on you for it to be permitted anywhere but the bedroom. Just for your own sanity.

Despite his rough words and demeanor his hands were feather light as they trailed along your nude body, and you his.

“Maybe later I’ll put that eager mouth of yours to good use, but for now I think I want to make you cum for me.”

His eyes softened a tad and searched yours for any hesitancy.

“…You’re positive you’re ready?”

You softened in reaction and nodded.

“I…I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone but you. It’s always been you, all these years.”

The sweet confession that fell from your lips like honey was enough to make Ed hiss again, rushing to discard his gloves and reveal the warm skin underneath. There was a vulnerability to him showing his bare hands given all he’d done to get them. It was a sign of trust and though you’d seen them before it felt all the more intimate now.

His fingers found your clit quickly once he slid down the bed to make himself comfortable between your spread legs and you found yourself too embarrassed to look. Luckily you didn’t have to for long as you threw your head back in pleasure and moaned.

He was entirely focused on your pleasure, one hand rubbing at your clit and building you up and the other entering you one finger at a time and working to loosen your entrance.

“You have…no right to be so good at this.”

You whimpered out between pants as your fingers clenched the sheets and you arched.

Edward smirked at that and cooed, sweetly.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’re close already?”

“What can I say? I’ve f-fantasized about you taking me more times than I can count and it’s even better.”

Your words fed his ego and only encouraged him to hasten his pace, finally making you come undone as you moaned and shook as you released all over his fingers.

“That’s a good girl.”

His sweet praise made you melt as you came down and you finally looked to where he was slipping a condom over his cock. He was a bit bigger than what you assumed was the average, nothing crazy but now that you were prepared you couldn’t help clenching at the thought of how good he’d feel inside you.

Ed couldn’t help himself and moaned at the sight.

“Eager aren’t you?”

You laughed breathlessly as he lined himself up, a playful spark in your eyes.

“Says the man hard as diamonds before even being inside~”

He chuckled and then slowly pushed in, going slow and watching you observantly for any signs of pain. When you showed none and he was in to the hilt he quirked an eyebrow.

“Got another one in you, do you think?”

You nodded, head admittedly feeling hazy from pleasure.

“As many as you can wring from me.”

He inhaled sharply at that and began thrusting, holding your hips steady as he did so and pressing hot, wet kisses wherever his lips could reach.

“Don’t give me any ideas, princess.”

It wasn’t long until you both were close- he just felt so damn snug in the best way possible and your constant clenching and sexy moans had his eyes fluttering. He hugged you close as you both came one after the other. You laid still a moment, both recovering and then he gently pulled out.

You both cleaned up and at the end of it all you were content in his arms as he held you to his chest.

“I know…you get scared when I fight. But if I don’t use my strength for the little guy who will? All I can promise is that I will always return home to you at night.”

You turned in his grip to look up at him.

“You promise?”

He nodded, serious as you’d ever seen him.

“I do.”

“Fine. I love you.”

You sealed it with a kiss and dozed off in one another’s arms.

#tlc: nsft #tlc: milk tea #edward elric x reader #edward elric x you #female reader #fullmetal alchemist x reader #fullmetal alchemist x you #tlc: fic #fullmetal alchemist #fmab #fma brotherhood #tw nsft

[junibunny]

18+, nsft, minors dni, total perv!seven, voyeurism (it was kinda definitely intentional, but seven doesn't know and its never stated), seven is implied to be a sub!leaning!switch, not canon compliant

seven had started to grow a resentment towards you. he couldn't hate you, or anything that you did to him, but what he hated was how he was so pathetic that he couldn't do anything if he wasn't able to just turn his head to "check-up" on you. and by "check-up," of course, i mean palm himself through his jeans for 20 minutes while you did whatever mundane task you had to complete. today, he's been watching you cook... something for lunch. he has not taken his eyes off of your ass, not something he was proud of, but he really really couldn't tell if what you were wearing would classify as shorts or underwear. which also makes him wonder if there was anything underneath them. that thought makes seven get up out of his chair and take a few laps around his room. he really never thought he'd be this guy, the kind of guy who literally needs a glass of water and a walk to calm down after just thinking of pussy he's never tasted. after downing the rest of a half empty soda can he found on a shelf in his room, he hesitantly returns to his workspace. he couldn't focus with you around, and he couldn't focus when he couldn't see you. he much prefers seeing you, so that's the one he's going with. when he sits back down, he realizes that he made the right decision. in the time between him losing it over thinking about your ass and him coming back down to earth, you somehow forgot that there was a camera pointed towards the stove and that whole counter. or maybe you were just too desperate that you didn't care if seven was watching you use the corner of a counter for a bit of relief. god. how long has it been since you've touched yourself or even been touched? because it couldn't have been that long since you started, and you're already whining and the way you're grinding onto the counter... seven gives up completely on shame, unzips his jeans, and throws them down to his ankles. he doesn't know how long he's gonna last, especially when you're now dropping your... underwear to the floor, or maybe they were shorts. all he knows is that there's nothing under them. how did you forget he was watching you?? he tries to remind you so you DONT forget. he's sure you wouldn't want him to watch this, at least maybe not until you two were closer... fuck he can't help it though, right? he's not sure if you're close or not, but seven is gone when you shove your fingers into your pussy and he can hear the squelch, it's faint because of the distance, but now that's all he wants to hear. he keeps watching and lightly stroking himself, he can't miss the end, and fuck is he happy that he didn't. you're still bent over the counter, one hand inside of you, the other rubbing your clit like a desperate whore. he knows it's aggressive, he wants to treat like the angel you are, but sometimes, especially right now, he wants to choke you and bite you and make you say that you're his personal little toy. but considering that all it takes is watching you cum and hearing you moan loud enough that the neighbors definitely heard it for him to cum for a second time, he's got a small feeling you'll be calling the shots more than him.

A/N: this was in one go, i just had to get out some of my seven thoughts. my hormones are so outta control rn lmao, also thinking about it. it's hilarious to imagine mc jerking off on the kitchen of this random dead woman while there's supposed to be someone dangerous after them 😭

#junibunny #nsft #mysme 707 #mystic messenger smut #707 x reader smut #mystic messenger #mysme saeyoung