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#blossom end rot
roberts-island · 2 years
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Got back from 10 days away from my garden- was nervous I missed raspberry season but it seems like I’m catching the end. My peas were a little past their prime too. It’s been really dry here and everything does need some TLC but it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. My Amish paste tomatoes do have blossom end rot unfortunately so I’m going to need to water them consistently if I want to get rid of that. I’m hoping that some consistent care will mean I can still have a good harvest later
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punkgardener · 8 months
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🧿 WHO GAVE ME THE FUCKING EVIL EYE ON MY TOMATOES 🧿
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BLOSSOM END ROT AND TOMATO HORN WORM ATTACK ON THE SAME DAY??? WHAT THE FUCK
AND JUST AFTER I POSTED A HAPPY LITTLE PICTURE OF ALL MY TOMATOES GROWING
IM ON TO YOU 🧿
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ligayagardener · 1 year
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Tomato troubles #1: zippering, catfacing, splitting,  blossom end rot
I think that I’m safe in saying that tomatoes are nearly everyone’s favourite fruits. Unfortunately, that statement doesn’t just apply to human creatures but to a whole range of bugs and microbes. This post will be about the physical and growth problems that your tomatoes might encounter and what to do about them. There’ll be another one about fungal and viral diseases and another about pest…
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closetgardener · 2 years
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Sigh. I was really looking forward to harvesting my first black krim, so having to turn it into compost is awfully disappointing. But on the bright side, look what the same plant has for me…
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There may be hope yet!
(Special thanks to @inthecityofgoodabode for telling me about blossom-end rot)
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milkweedman · 7 months
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Unexpectedly big harvest from the garden today. That pink tomato is from the 'black tomato' plant. They never turn black--I did let the first ones stay on the vine in the hopes that they'd eventually turn black, but they rotted instead. So I guess it was mislabeled. Pink is pretty too though.
Also, 99% sure my zucchini look that way because of their proximity to the lemon cucumbers. I believe zucchini are typically just green. They taste good though.
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tomatoluvr69 · 7 months
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You wish you were me so fucking bad right now…
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rustbeltjessie · 11 months
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BLOSSOM          ROT
Why are you       rotting                  ? Unfortunate                           common problem             caused by a low                              fruit.                                   Blossom        rot       occurs when                       moisture                                      movement                                                             exceeds the                        break down.            deficiency                       formation can also be                  salt                                        damage                                               Be ware                  when caring for
                                  more                                      under stress                              .                                                                                          Hope         will ease,             after        no one wants
—Jessie Lynn McMains (2017)
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ryeonah · 10 months
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tag dump
#✖plotted starter║with a candle through time i could still see your ghost but i can't close my eyes for it is there where you haunt me most#✖mobile post║& i sat in regret of all the things i've done for all that i've blessed & all that i've wronged#✖psa║a reaper's guarantee of responsibility#✖music║again this evening ancient rain is singing the same ancient song#✖saved║those painful memories are what help us make it to tomorrow & become stronger#✖wishlist║you don't have to be a ghost here amongst the living#✖open starter║how can i blame the cherry blossoms for rejecting this floating world & drifting away as the wind calls them?#✖dash games║i liked the bittersweet taste of danger touching my lips#✖dash commentary║so how do i apologize & put the tears back in your eyes?#✖meta║the glass of my intentions turns to sand & shatters in my hand#✖character study║the last person I have to save is me & in the end we are the only ones who can save ourselves#✖headcanon║death & i have been scandalously intimate for some time now#✖hae dae-soo║there’s a black bird perched outside my window he burns me with his eyes of gold to embers he sees all my sins he reads my sou#✖gop-dan║others may forget you but i am haunted by your beautiful ghost#✖the jade emperor║there was something beautiful & tragic in the way that she waged war#✖lim ryung-gu║i know the pain that you hide behind the smile on your face#✖park joong-gil║solace lies in the ritual of remembering the dead & yet he cannot find solace in his rotted ribcage made of anger & grief#✖choi joon-woong║does it make me unique to hold hands with the grim reaper rather than go to the angel?#✖koo ryeon║how many nights does it take to count the stars? that's the time it would take to fix my heart
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Lucid gem tomatoes and cherry tomatoes
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i dream, now, of a normal life with you ; suguru geto
synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.
word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)
contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33
a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33
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the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.
it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.
which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.
humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content. 
you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.
he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways. 
so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.
but everything worked out in the end.
a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.
but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.
peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.
eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.
messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.
sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk 
you: …… um.  you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???
sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol
unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug. 
like a sleepy puppy.
a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes. 
he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?
suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.
so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.
(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)
you: NOOOO  you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???
sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful
you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible
sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.
you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????
sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up
you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??
sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐
an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.
slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.
no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.
you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics. 
so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds. 
and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.
satoru notices you first.
a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.
”hey, guys.”
”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here! 
and there he is. 
the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor. 
he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence. 
and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.
it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky. 
a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it. 
(gosh, he’s cute.)
with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.
it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder. 
”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”
a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. 
he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now. 
you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”
suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.
”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”
a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”
”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.
instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”
at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.
”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes. 
a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.
”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”
”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.
finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”
a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely. 
with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.
”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…” 
he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.
”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss. 
(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)
”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”
just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm. 
cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”
suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.
you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.
”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”
”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”
a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.
”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”
a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”
and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.
satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental. 
his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.
”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”
a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.
satoru blinks.
then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers. 
”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”
a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.
satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.
before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.
”take care of him, alright?”
”i will. you guys have fun!”
and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.
”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”
”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.
(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)
with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”
he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.
suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.
a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”
his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours. 
he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat. 
”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.
suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.
you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”
suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.
a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”
a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.
”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.
a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”
(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)
suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”
absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.
”— and i have you.”
a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real. 
he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat. 
a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.
”my angel.” 
as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”
and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears. 
suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough. 
”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”
suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.
(you’re so, so pretty.)
a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.
— he boops your nose.
you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”
silence. you look up at him. 
then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.
you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”
when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.
after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend. 
with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.
what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.
but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.
— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.
a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.
all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day. 
”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”
and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.
suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.
”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”
a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.
so you settle for the second best option.
”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.
the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?” 
and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.
it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.
the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever. 
but you have other plans.
and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace. 
but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more. 
”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”  
”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”
suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more. 
your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you. 
in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.
but it’s so overwhelming. 
you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved. 
suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.
with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.
all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.
suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about. 
but you say his name with such warmth.
he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him. 
at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.
with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are. 
and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.
his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever. 
he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.
he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him. 
”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”
suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.
all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.
”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”
an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue. 
and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:
”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”
and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.
all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”
with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling. 
”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”
with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.
everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.
the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat. 
”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”
a moment passes.
for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.
swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.
marry.
the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take. 
(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)
”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”
there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind. 
a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.
”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”
an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.
(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.
i love you, too.)
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the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.
with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.
honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead. 
a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable. 
hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover. 
which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done. 
in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.
two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.
suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise. 
a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.
”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.
suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.
he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.
a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.
”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”
a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”
suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”
the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.
”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”
then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.
a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”
suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face. 
”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”
hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”
all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.
still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”
your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”
a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.
it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.
he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement. 
(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)
slacker.
(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)
asshole.
(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?
so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)
idiots.
(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)
suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”
a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”
another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”
”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”
a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”
suguru blinks. 
then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.
you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.
”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”
in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.
”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.
”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”
”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”
suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.
a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you. 
in your throat, your breath hitches.
— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.
a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”
you pause. 
”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.
but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”
a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.
”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.
suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork. 
he’s your dork, though.
suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.
when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking. 
before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.
everything finally feels just right.
the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.
domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.
and wow, is that a heavy word. forever. 
(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)
forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently. 
just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend. 
suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.
you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know. 
it means forever.
(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)
marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.
and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.
maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.
(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.
all he can think of is forever.)
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pleasinghomes · 1 year
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kalasharkss · 1 year
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pseudowho · 4 months
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Stealing Nanami Kento's Shirts...
...one too many times.
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18+, don't pretend you're here for anything else.
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Coming home after a bad day, and he is not in the mood to do laundry, but thankfully he has one shirt left in the wardrobe before work tomorrow. You're on the sofa in his shirt and precious little else, and Nanami feels a ping of irritation blossom alongside his arousal.
"Did you get that shirt from the laundry basket?"
"No, it was hung up. Is that okay?"
Nanami's jaw clenches, irritated. Heavy footsteps approach you, and you look up at him, eyes tracing the outline of his hardening cock in his suit, before reaching his face. You bite your lip as he glowers down at you.
"Up."
You are nothing if not dutiful, and you stand in front of him, legs clamped together to ease the growing throbbing between them. Nanami pinches the ends of the shirtsleeves over your hands, pulling gently, and your arms slip inside the body of the shirt; you give him a questioning look as he lowers the neckline to your breasts, hardened nipples peeking out of the top as Nanami's mouth waters at the sight of you.
"This was my last shirt. I have work tomorrow."
"Oh no, I'm sorry! I didn't rea--"
"So let's see if we can get some use out of it, shall we?"
Nanami raises your forearms to your chest, breasts squeezed enticingly between them, before using the loose shirtsleeves to bind your arms tightly in place, crossed over your chest and knotted so snugly behind your back that you feel breathless.
"Ken--!" You are cut off as Nanami presses his rolled up tie into your mouth, silencing you, before bodily flinging you over the table, arse up and wiggling as he presses you down by the knot between your shoulder blades. You squeak as you hear the clink of his belt undoing, wetness starting to seep between your thighs.
"I'm sorry I stole your last shirt, Kento," he hums, pitch slightly raised, and you feel yourself blush at his brisk sarcasm, mewling now as he roughly thrusts two fingers into your pussy, sighing as he feels it clench around them, "Is that what you were going to say?"
You're wordless, panting around his tie, bound by his shirtsleeves, and trying to press your pussy back into his hand, as he continues to thrust his fingers into you, nudging your cervix with each penetration. Removing his fingers, and gently shushing your whimpers, he wipes them on the back of the shirt.
"So wet," he gasps, pretending to be appalled, "but why are you enjoying this so much when it's supposed to be a punishment, darling?"
Pussy feeling cold and empty, only momentarily, you feel him sink his cock deeply into you in one swift movement, crying out around his tie as he groans, cracking his neck sideways a few times, to keep himself from cumming immediately as he feels your plush walls flutter around him. He squeezes the base of his cock, controlling himself with a low moan.
"No? Then let's get it nice and messy, my love, so you can wear it all over again tomorrow."
As he begins to rut into you at a relentless pace, leaving you reeling and helpless against the table, Kento braces himself over you, caging you in with thick arms as he dabs the sweat from his forehead off on the back of the shirt. He intones into your ear, low and sultry;
"I wonder if these sleeves could tie you to the bedframe, too?"
When Nanami goes to work the next day, he's had to go in a shirt fished back out of the laundry basket.
On the bright side, as he adjusts his watch, he smirks to think of you at home, still wearing his other shirt, with crumpled sleeves and at least three loads of his dried cum on it.
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Definitely not me brain rotting about being tied up in Kento's shirtsleeves, nope, not one bit.
966 notes · View notes
zhongrin · 3 months
Text
𒆙 deus auri
part 4/8 of ⎡∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺⎦, a zhongli 2023 birthday event
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© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡
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𖧷 tags ┈ gn!reader, teeth-rotting fluff
𖧷 a/n ┈ merry christmas yall! i hope you're being surrounded by your loved ones today (be it physically or online). consider this a christmas gift from me to you <3
𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓊 ❬ masterlist ❭ 𐫱 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭
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𝓃early everyone in your neighborhood knew of your secret admirer, yet no one knew of their actual identity.
they had their speculations, of course. the elders just love to tell you all about their theories whenever they spot you with yet another fresh yellow hibiscus on your person. perhaps it was the young man three houses away, since mrs. feng saw him stealing glances at you? oh, or maybe it was the lady who moved into the neighborhood a few months ago, since the timing matched with when you started receiving the flowers? no, no, it must have been the blacksmith’s child who was just the perfect age for marriage, or the widowed greengrocer who kept giving you discounts, or—
entertaining the musings of the older folks who had nothing better to do than gossip was not your specialty, so a forced laugh and an excuse later, you continued on your merry way, shaking your head with a breath escaping your lips as your fingers brushed the soft petal.
you used to keep the flowers in a vase or press them between book pages to dry them out, hoping to prolong their life, but these days you prefer to have it on you as you go about your day. sometimes you’d wear it on your hair, tucked behind your ear, or weaved around your wrist, and other times you’d slip it on your clothes, going as far as planning your attire around the bright yellow petals. and when the day ended, the bloom would have wilted, but you already knew that the next day, another fresh flower would appear right in front of your doorstep.
truly, a mystery.
as many moons passed, you became curiouser and curiouser. such dedication, such resourcefulness. just who was this silhouette in the dark you could not seem to shine a light upon? as silly as it sounded, you were slowly toeing the lines of curiosity and perhaps even affection, as stupid as that sounded.
there was a florist you would always pass by whenever you returned home from a day of toiling at work. a selection of flowers, though none matched the flower you tucked onto your belt loop for the day, lined the forefront of the little stall, its owner giving you a friendly smile as you approached.
you started placing marigolds on your doorstep before going to bed.
what made you choose the specific flower? you weren’t too sure yourself. perhaps the colors and rounded shape of its floral head that day reminded you of mora, and it was an attempt at darkly humoring the stranger who had been spending their mora to buy all those hibiscus blooms. perhaps you just found them pretty and silently hoped your secret admirer would, too.
the marigold always disappeared the next morning, replaced with your faithful, bright yellow-petaled friend.
the ritual continued on, and just as tireless as your admirer was, you made sure to be just as persevering. not a day passed without the exchange of blossoms - not when it rained, nor when the holidays rolled by.
“mama, look! it’s the adepti!!” a little girl raced past you, dragging her laughing mother by the hand, jumping and trying to seek past the crowd of people flooding the main street at the end of your little neighborhood. the ginkgo leaves were falling, maidenhair petals matching the bright color of the hibiscus pinned onto your hair billowing past as you too, stepped towards the crowd.
they did this parade every single year, both to celebrate the end of a prosperous twelve-month period and to honor the very birthday of the geo archon, and every single time you thought you would ever get bored of it. a magnificent procession along the main streets, a week-long festival before and after, the various stalls opening along the streets, the hustle and bustle of the harbor amplified, joyfulness and the trees seemingly painting the air gold.
“ah, the demon conqueror isn’t joining us this year?”
“he’s the elusive sort, after all.”
”but the great illuminated beasts are almost all here!”
it was hard to make out the words of the people around you as the crowd bustled in excitement and the processional march reverberated so loudly in your ears, so you decided to step and slip around the gaps of enamored people when you spotted your chance.
eventually, your eyes finally fell upon the group as they made their way through the stone paved path. the proud magnificent beasts were always a sight to behold; otherworldly and also imposing. golden and red, intricately sewn flags bearing the symbol of geo along with the harbor itself waved in the air as the sounds of the drums seemed to make the ground shake. the smell of incense filled your lungs, your eyes squinting as the sunlight caught the cor lapis ornaments affixed onto nearly every object and clothing of the congregation. and yet it was said that the celebration march used to be much grander, with dancers and flower petals and scriptures detailing the founding of liyue and the tales of the archon war being read out loud - but your lord himself insisted for it to be downplayed after several hundred years.
and speaking of the devil…
“may rex lapis live and reign for ten thousand years!”
“ten thousand years, ten thousand of ten thousand years!”
this year too, the deity sat upon the resplendent sedan chair carried by four mortals. this year too, he looked as regal in his dark garment patterned with glowing golden threads and - in your opinion - as bored out of his mind. this year too, a stem of-
-wait.
he didn’t have those last year.
marigold eyes glanced toward your direction, and you thought you had induced yourself into having a fever dream when your gazes met. but no, the way his amber eyes slightly widened and the way he suddenly shifted, back straightening from its former slouch and the colors dusting his cheek were very much real. while your lips parted as you tried to process the information, his own lips stretched into a gentle smile; gloved fingers plucking the flower from its pinned place on his outer robe, before placing a fleeting kiss on the one-stemmed tagetes’ amber corolla.
and as the crowds moved, eager to follow your lord, you let yourself be carried away by the sea of eager citizens, your heart doing double flips inside your chest as you tried to fit the puzzle pieces together.
…….. you think your ‘secret admirer’ might be the very god of your nation.
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𖧷 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭ ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat
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everparanoid · 4 months
Text
Wholesome Delinquent Behaviour┃Wriothesley
pairing: f!reader x wriothesley
genre: fluff , smut, light Angst
rating: 18+
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !
tags: consent is hot, it's all good till the backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Reader is Not Traveler, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Squirting, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, biting kink, inappropriate use of cuffs, spoilers for wriothesley story quest, No use of y/n, Past Murder, Minor Original Character(s), Facials, PWP, Blowjobs, handjobs, everything between reader and wriothesley is consensual
wordcount: 9.5K
synopsis: The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well; if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.
You are a prisoner at Meropide who meets and falls in love with Wriothesley over the years of knowing him, and he falls harder.
Originally posted: 30.10.23 on AO3
a/n: I am now reposting my AO3 stuff onto tumblr. If you know me....no, you don't. ;) Also check out my AO3 for more wriothesley fics.
Song Inspiration: ''Safeword'' by TV Girl.
I don't own any of the artwork used.
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If everything could come to a stop, just for something she says,
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The first time you met Wriothesley was completely by accident. Not that you remembered it too well, and if you did, he wouldn’t confirm it without putting you through a gruelling test. No, the first time you remembered meeting Wriothesley was much later.
You wiped away the sweat coating your brow with the back of your dirtied hand, heaving a deep sigh. The production zone, despite being at the bottom of the ocean, was like what you imagined the hot springs of Inazuma to feel like. You wanted to go there one day—to Inazuma. Although the borders were closed to the outside, the stories you heard of the beautiful Sakura blossoms filled you with the determination to get there. One day, you would. You were sure of it. If you didn’t get struck down by their archon first.
“Inmate, stop slacking! Unless you don’t want to eat tonight,” the guard manning the floor yelled at you.
You rolled your eyes and continued hammering at the heated chunks of metal. Your arms were weak, and your palms were sweaty. It was times like this when you wished you had a cryo vision. You wished for many things. You wished you hadn’t been caught. You wished Fontaine were a better place. You wished that Monsieur Neuvillette felt even an ounce of sympathy for your case, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the court of Fontaine was as ‘fair’ as they came. The sky had down poured the night you were sent to Meropide. It was the worst Fontaine had seen in four hundred years. You hadn’t seen the sky properly since you probably never would. People rotted down here. So, all you could rely on was the glistening memory of bitter water, and your dreams.
It was better, you decided, to be punished here than in Sumeru, Inazuma, or even Monstadt. You’d been to Liyue once, but you weren’t there long enough to have a clear judgement of whether their form of justice would be any better. Then again you had been arrested before you got out of Liyue and they handed you straight back to Fontaine to be judged by your home region’s laws.
“Inmate!” The guard yelled snapping you from your thoughts. “You’re wanted at the administration area.”
You dropped your hammer, relieved for the break, and shoved past the guard on your way to the lift.
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I thought the whole point was you were living on the edge,
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“It’s your lucky day, kid,” another guard said as you meandered leisurely toward them.
This guard you liked.
Meropide inductions didn’t happen often. Most of the time the convict was thrown into their dorm and made to figure it out themselves. In the instances of special cases, you were brought out like a friendly face before the storm. You had no clue why it was you they chose, but you always got paid handsomely in credit coupons, so the particulars didn’t matter to you. You had long since abandoned the idea of fairness down here where the sun doesn’t shine.
“What have we got this time?” you asked cracking your knuckles.
“A kid, your age.”
You paused. It wasn’t often you met people around your age down here. Everyone was either one foot in the grave or an adult.
What could this kid have done to end up down here with the downs and outs? You looked out the large glass window, it stared out into the deep blue Fontainian waters. The sea was dark, so you guessed it must be night. Time was more of an idea, a concept if you will, down in the depths. So, you enjoyed rare moments like these to re-calibrate yourself. It was a shame. You had hoped to at least feel the sun’s rays through the water’s refraction, but it was like you said beggars couldn’t be choosers.
The lift lowered down behind you, and you turned to greet this so-called new inmate. You were greeted by a tall scrawny boy, probably not even a year older than yourself with dull icy eyes and jet-black hair. He was drenched in that same bitter water.
You put on your brightest smile and offered your hand.
“Welcome to hell,” you said.
Not your best work but it caused a small snicker from the boy, and your favourite guard who stayed close by. Strange. They never stayed around. Were they that concerned about your ability to induct a fellow teenage delinquent?
Wriothesley paused. When he was given his verdict by the Monsieur Neuvillette he didn’t expect such a warm welcome. Well, warm as far as being greeted at its entrance.
He didn’t take your hand, instead opting to stare at you with those haunted eyes. You were disheveled at beast and downright filthy at worst. Nothing to sing or dance about. Nothing to fall head over heels in love with either, but you didn’t care. Who wanted to find happiness in misery anyway?
“Hell?” Wriothesley echoed. His voice was steady and stern like he was aged beyond his years; by the lack of life in his eyes, he probably was. “Is it that bad down here?”
You shrugged one shoulder.
“Depends,” you said.
“On what?” he asked, calculating. You could feel his brain working from where you stood. 
Fascinating.
“Depends on how stupid you are,” you looked him up and down, chewing the inside of your cheek absentmindedly. Then, as if a rocket had been shot up your butt, you spun on your heels and gestured for him to follow with a lazy flick of your wrist.
He did so, catching up to you easily with his long legs and just as long stride.
“I didn’t catch your name,” you said as the lift doors closed behind you taking you down to the actual entrance of Meropide not the fancy entrance for visitors too afraid to see the truth. Fontaine was a giant opera, and you lot in Meropide were the hidden stage crew, slaving behind the scenes after losing your spot in the limelight.
“You didn’t ask,” he responded flatly from beside you.
“Clearly that was the hint for you to tell me.”
“It’s Wriothesley,” he said.
It didn’t sound like it was his actual name. Hell, it didn’t sound like a name at all, but who were you to judge? Meropide was a place to start a new; to redeem yourself from your sins, and nearly burn to death in the production zones breaking your back for an administrator who was a tyrant. What was a kid reclaiming their identity going to do to you?
“Nice to meet you, Ricecake.”
“Ricecake?”
“Hey, you give me a name I can’t pronounce you live with the consequences, Ricecake.”
The doors opened and the lift groaned as steam poured out of its pipes and vents. Some unfortunate soul was going to have to clean those later, and you prayed it wasn’t going to be you. You had a burn on the inside of your arm from the last time you cleaned those steaming pipes, it was a jagged ugly thing to look at, so you kept it hidden. Out of sight out of mind, right?
The receptionist sat behind the desk looking as melancholy as everyone else in this place. Wriothesley was going to fit in just fine, you thought, as you remembered that same almost dead look in his eyes.
“You coming?” you asked the boy who stood gawking at you from the lift. “It won’t take you back up you know. I mean you can try. It’s your sentence you’re lengthening.”
“You don’t recognise me?”
“No?” you said. “Should I?”
You tried to recall when you would have seen him before but only drew blanks. You’d seen so many of the same faces and watched so many of them die that telling anyone apart was a pipe dream for you. However, for some reason, you knew that Wriothesley would stick in your head. Not just because the name was so peculiar but because something about him intrigued you. He didn’t seem upset down here yet. No, he looked curious. Curiosity was dangerous. Curiosity got the smartest people in here killed or beaten half to death. No, Wriothesley stuck in your head because he reminded you of hope.
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So, when those sounds start to drift down the hall, and stat to freak out the neighbours,
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“No coupons, no meal,” the chef said, his voice booming through the place. You wondered over questioning who would be stupid enough to get into conflict with the head chef. He was a burly man, tall with a glassy eye and a wooden spatula the size of a person. The rumour was that he had been a Fatui skirmisher in the overworld. The truth was he was like every other soul in here, beaten and trapped. Upon seeing the familiar woolfy black hair, spiked in random places you inserted yourself into the conversation.
“Sorry about that boss. He’s new,” you said to the chef.
He waved his beefy, greasy hand at you to leave.
“Don’t let your friend come back unless he has coupons. This isn’t charity,” he said with a thick Snezhnayan accent.
“Gotcha,” you said and gave the chef a salute. Hooking your arm under Wriothesleys, you pulled him out of the cue. He nearly tripped over his foot. You dragged him to a secluded table a little away from everyone else, where your singular special box of bread and curry waited for you.
You let him go.
You pointed to the wall where it read, ‘If a man will not work, he shall not eat.’
“Sit,” you commanded pointing to the chair opposite yours.
Wriothesley stared at you like you had grown four heads.
“I have no food,” he said.
“I can see that,” you responded, opening your box and letting the steam waft out. Both of your stomachs groaned at the same time. It had been a while since you had had decent food from the chef, it would be even longer till you had another one; credit coupons weren’t easy to come by and they were better spent on other things like making sure you didn’t get smothered in your sleep.
“How much did that cost?”
“More than you’ll make in your first year,” you said breaking up the bread in your hands.
He gulped dryly.
“How do you know that?”
“You’re a fresher. You’re basically free labour until you have some experience behind you, and some meat on your bones. You’ll be lucky if they pay you a tenth of what you should be getting in your first year. Unless you can fight.”
You let your words settle in the silence between you.
“What did you do?” you ask.
“What?”
“Your crime? What did you do? The guards treat you like a danger to humanity,” you said glancing at the guard who watched you both intently. You could understand them glaring at you but why him?
Wriothesley shifted in his seat, straightening up as if preparing for something.
“I killed my parents,” he said.
He didn’t say anything more than that, he didn’t need to.
You blinked.
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
You let it sink in for a minute and then nodded.
“I will not be offended if you run, after all this is the entire truth,” he said bluntly. His stomach growled again, and he clutched it willing it to silence itself.
“We’re all crooks and criminals down here,” you said. “But that doesn’t mean we are all bad.”
He lifted an eyebrow at you. You supposed it was because he was expecting you to run. Which meant he obviously didn’t know you. 
“What if I am just a bad guy?”
You shrugged. It was not like you were the dog’s bollocks yourself.
“I have a good enough instinct to know that you aren’t, Ricecake,” you said and pushed your now broken-up bread and curry meal toward him. You were going to regret it. You hadn’t eaten a full-fledged meal in three months, but still, you gave it anyway. “Eat.”
You would have wanted someone to do the same for you when you got here. Friends weren’t made under the sea. His eyes widened and his pale face brightened for the first time since you had met him.
“This is yours,” he said, sounding flabbergasted.
“Now it’s yours,” you said. “Eat up and get some rest. You need to be strong if you want to survive around here.”
You noticed something in his eyes then, a spark. It was dull but it flickered. Your stomach flipped again.
You took a sip of your water before pushing it over to him. He was going to need it more than you.
“Thank you,” he said.
You shook your head.
“There is no need for thanks between us. See it as me looking out for a fellow delinquent.”
“Delinquent?” he said taking his first bite of the bread drowned in curry sauce and rolling his eyes in bliss at the flavours. He began to hoover up the box like it was running away from him.
You remembered when you were like that with every small crumb of bread you got when you first got here. Your stomach flipped. What kind of hell had Wriothesley come from?
“Slow down buddy meals like this don’t come around every day,” you said. “Take it slow, no one can kick you out of here to work anyway. Seems they’re too afraid of us.”
He did as you said. Licking off his fingers, he looked around the floor at the glaring stationed guards and occasional inmates. He faced you his eyes glimmered with light like a shooting golden star flying across an icy sky.
“So, how do I get them to trust me?” he said leaning in.
 You leaned back in your seat, your arms crossed and a smile on your face. You were sure now, that feeling in your stomach was hope.
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remember that it's good, clean fun,
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“Happy Birthday!” you grinned, setting down a box you had smuggled up from the cafeteria into his room. He raised a brow up at you. It was the 23rd of November, the day he’d decided was his birthday; the same day he was sentenced to Meropide.
“Ah, thank you,” he said politely. His stomach growled at the delicious aroma coming off the box revealing, despite his calm thanks, his eager anticipation for your yearly gift.
Guilt riddled him, as he dropped the gauntlet he had been upgrading, next to the cashflow machine he had found and tinkered back to use. He had wanted to pay you back. Every year, on the day he arrived you came with a box and another ten pieces of meshing gear for his tinkering, and as much as he secretly loved it, he felt like he wasn’t doing enough to pay you back.
It had been six years and yet he hadn’t gotten you a single thing he considered worth the amount of your kindness. Aside from a necklace with a piece of meshing gear that he had forged into a Cerberus insignia. You wore it everywhere. You wore it then, the rustic insignia rested on your chest. He had already put aside the pieces for a matching bracelet, a little trinket from him to you. A subtle hint to show that you were his, even if he hadn’t said it yet.
He unravelled the box and two tea bags fell out of the wrapping.
You picked them up and shook them before him.
“Tea for the occasion,” you said.
He smiled and closed his eyes.
“I fear, you know me too well.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know your favourite colour,” you said, brewing the tea in the teapot he kept on the wonky table.
“I don’t have one.”
Meaning he couldn’t choose one without them all tying to you. Maybe it was the colour of your hair, or eyes, or even the colour of your lips, he’d stare at those often. Too often lately. He was staring now. He looked away.
“Well, I guess I do know everything about you,” you chirped.
He thanked you as you handed him a cup of tea with two sugars just as he liked it. You knew these things. It wasn’t like you had spoken about them.  No, you had been around him so much in the last few years that these things came naturally to you. It was like breathing. You sat beside him on the ground. Your tea warmed your hands.
“What else does the birthday boy want on his birthday?”
He fought back the blush though he was sure the colour still painted his skin.
“Nothing.”
“Come on! There has got to be something?”
Wriothesley shook his head and opened the box.
“Okay then if you insist. Share this box with me?”
“But it’s yours.”
“And I want to share it with you. Are you really going to deny me on my birthday? Remember, you are the one who asked what I want.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Fine.”
He broke up the bread inside one of the compartments in the box, the same way he'd watched you do it countless times. You reached in and dipped a large unbroken piece of bread into the soup before bringing it up to his lips. He stared at your hand.
“Open up. Come on, birthday boy, if we are sharing then you’ve got to have the first bite,” you said.
When it became apparent that you weren’t going to give up any time soon, he opened his mouth enough for you to slip the bread between his teeth. Both of you without the other's knowledge held your breath when he bit down, and his lips brushed the tips of your fingers.
A shiver ran through your body, one you knew would follow you to bed and into your filthiest dreams.
He pulled back and quickly cleared his throat, as he chewed without tasting.
“It’s delicious,” he said.
“It is,” you choked out, though you hadn’t tried it yet.
He didn’t bother to correct you, too lost trying to calm the riot in his chest. When he felt like he had better control of the battle in his chest he picked up a piece of bread, dipped it into the curry sauce and held it toward you. You blinked.
“You should try some too. You know since we are sharing and all.”
You took a bite from the bread letting the flavours wash over you. They too were lost to the way you noticed his eyes watching your lips enclose around the bread. You nodded and covered your mouth as you chewed.
“It is good,” you agreed, with a mouth full of mush.
He nodded and looked away from you, scooping up another piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. You would have thought he was unaffected until you saw his ears were deep shade of crimson.
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Just wholesome delinquent behaviour,
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“What’s this about?” You asked as he guided you with his large cold, calloused hands over your eyes. You envied his cryo vision, and his ability to stay cool down in that heat pit. He hid it well, but you knew he had one. You’d seen it one day by accident and not breathed a word about it since. Vision holders were targets down here and the last thing you wanted was to put him in any more danger.
“Patience. Don’t you know all good things come to those who know how to wait,” he said.
 He had dragged you out of the production zone after finishing his work and disappeared off like he usually did only to reappear an hour later with that confident stride he had. You barely ever saw him these days, but when you did it would be like he was still the fresh-faced delinquent but older. You were both older. He guided you into a seat and then removed his hands. You missed the cool touch on your skin. It took a second for your eyes to adjust to the poor lighting.
“What is this?” you asked, staring at the giant box in front of you.
You looked up at Wriothesley. It had been twelve years since he came to the fortress and the once soft baby face was gone, lost to the grit of Meropide. Wriothesley commanded the trust and respect of everyone around him much to the administrator’s dismay. When you were working away in the production zone, to he would be off swaying the inmates and the guards, working his natural charisma on those around him.
“What happened?” You asked reaching up and grazing his split lip with your finger. He caught your wrist and dipped his head out of the way flashing you a half smile. He had grown even taller over the years and now you had to reach up to touch him. He glanced at the ring on your finger, and you snatched your hand away, your face flushed with embarrassment.
“I won some more coupons,” he said.
In reality, he had scrapped up the coupons that he’d hidden away in the case of a rainy day and used them to buy you the meal. A week earlier he had lost all his accumulated credit coupons in a single night to the Fortress’s administrator.
“You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Is that so?” he sassed. “I suppose I should write a will.”
Your expression darkened.
“Kidding, of course,” he said.
“Of course.”
“I went to Sigewinne,” he assured you. “She said I would be fine as long I rested.”
“Good,” you said.
You turned back to the box.
Metal screeched on the floor as Wriothesley pulled his chair closer directly across from you. The place was unusually empty—only a few guards manned the area, but no other inmates could be spotted on the floor.
“So, what is this?” You could smell the faint fragrance of something familiar. Something you hadn’t smelt in years.
“Open it,” he said and gestured with his chin to the box.
You gave him a cautious look and lifted the lid. Inside sat four rolls of bread and two bowls worth of curry. Your heart fluttered. When you looked up at him, he was already watching you; his icy eyes shining like stars. You didn’t want to think anything of it… to hope. Hope was stolen from you. Hope led to you becoming trapped in a loveless engagement with one of the crooked guards.
“You really did it?” you said and ached a little inside.
This was supposed to be a happy moment but all you wanted to do was weep bitter water.
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his toned scarred arms over his chest. He looked so broad and solid; all that boxing had morphed his physique into something godly.  “I told you I would pay you back.”
“That was twelve years ago, and this is more than triple what I gave you.”
“I added the interest,” he said.
“Why now?”
He looked down at your ringed finger again and frowned. His brows drew together in the way they did when he was annoyed or thinking more than he was going to let you in on.
“I’m going to fight the administrator,” he said bluntly.
You paused mid-snap of your bread.
“You’re going to fight the administrator?” you repeated, unsure of whether you heard him correctly. “Your sentence is up. Why would you do that? You’re going to die.”
He shrugged.
“I refuse to watch people suffer under the crooked ruling of a tyrant,” he said and eyed your ring again. Your finger felt like it was on fire; you dipped a bit of bread in the curry and handed it to him. He waved it away.
“Why are you like this?” you said, and dropping the piece of bread into the curry, you watched it drown and disappear into the thick liquid. “Is it not enough that you’ll be free?”
You blinked back tears, your hands clenched on your thighs. You had watched nearly all of his fights and every single time your heart was in your throat. Every time he bled, every time he shook hands with his opponent; every time the ringleader held up his beaten-up arm to declare his victory. You hated it. You hated all of it.
He said your name with a tenderness he reserved only for you. A tenderness you didn’t want to hear. A tenderness you blocked out with everything in your soul.
“Is it so strange that I would want to fight for those whom I promised a better life out of genuine care?”
“Why did you do that?” you yelled, your voice came out harsher than you intended but it was too late to take it back. That was the thing about words, they could never be unspoken. He cleared his throat.
“As I recall, I didn’t come here to live under the thumb of another driver, and I thought you would understand that more than anyone else, but I see now that I was wrong and clearly you have been broken down after all.”
You bit down hard on your lips, and your jaw clenched so tight that you were sure you would crunch a tooth.
“Ric—Wriothesley. That’s not fair,” you whispered.
“Indeed, it’s not but it’s the truth.” He glanced away for a second. “Look, I am in love with you, and I have been for the last twelve years. I can’t simply watch you be with someone you hate just to get a sentence lowered that you still won’t tell me about. I could have helped you. I am helping you. I’m helping everyone,” he pushed his chair back and stood.
“…What?”
“I’m fighting tomorrow. Show up, if you have some time, of course; or don’t, but I’ll be looking out for you. You can find me in my dorm before then.”
You fought back the urge to chase after him, to slap him, to kiss him, to hold his hand, to hold him so tightly and cry the way you haven’t been able to since the day you were convicted. Instead, you didn’t. You sat in silence and ate the bread and curry watching your heart walk away from you.
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Oh, remember your safe word,
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His dorm room was across from yours. It was sparse like everything else in the underwater fortress. A pillow and scatty blanket lay atop a barely functioning mattress in a corner. Wriothesley sat at the small table barely standing on its uneven legs. A tiny pot brewed a herbal smelling tea, and two teacups sat in front of him.
“You came,” he said barely above a whisper. His confidence was a quiet one.
“You love me.”
“Would you like some tea?” he asked, gesticulating to the second cup in front of the spare chair.
You had been in here countless times; shared many cups of tea with him; helped pierce his ears and manage his wounds; watched him shadowbox the air as you sat crossed-legged on his bed; you had wondered what life would be like if Meropide was a better place; you had wondered if the people you left behind missed you as you laid next to each other on his floor staring at the giant fan on the ceiling. Not that either of you had anyone but each other. Wriothesley had said his siblings were strangers to him, and he was probably a ghost they would never want to see again. An unfortunate reminder of something they’d all rather forget, but he never forgot. He refused to. He lived his truth.
 Every time he told you about his past you worried about how his view would change if you if knew your truth. However, Wriothesley never pressed too hard, never touched buttons he knew you didn’t want to be touched. Instead, he watched and observed, and took in all that you were willing to give him, just to see a glimmer behind the cracks of your mask.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.
“Please.” He gestured to the chair. “Sit.” he filled your cup.
You took your seat and shifted around, unable to find comfort despite it being your usual chair. Feelings always made things feel different—uncomfortable. You knew this. Yet you still felt the discomfort, nonetheless.
“How did you know I would come?”
“I didn’t but I hoped and thankfully you didn’t disappoint, but you never do,” he said, filling his cup.
“No need to be modest with me, Wriothesley.”
“I am anything but modest with you,” he said your name softly.
You gulped. Wriothesley wasn’t one to mince his words, though tact was his favourite game.
“You must have heard about it already?” you brought the teacup to your lips taking a sip of the liquid. Credit coupons bought anything in this fortress, even the finest tea. “It’s all people can talk about when it comes to me.”
His expression darkened.
It was only a matter of time.
“You do, and yet you still love me?” you asked.
“I recall someone once telling me that we all are crooks and criminals down here but that didn’t mean we were all bad,” he recounted the words you had said to him when he arrived nearly verbatim. He leaned onto the table, and it shook on its uneven legs from the added weight. “Besides, I like hearing stories from their source.”
“Then ask.”
“What got you incarcerated?”
You took a deep breath. What did you have to lose? He had heard worse rumours.
For some reason, you cared about what he thought of you. You knew that feelings were fickle things, and yet, you cared that he loved you. You loved him too.
“Mariticide,” you said cooly, breaking the ice.
“But you were—“
“A child, I know.”
“I was illegally married off when I was eight years old to a man, twenty years my senior.”
Wriothesley remained neutral, you took it as your sign to keep going.
“He didn’t do anything to me until my twelfth birthday and then it started. At first, it was just touching and then it got worse. He was an influential Fontaine nobleman. One of the maids tried to help me report him but it didn’t work. So, one night when he came to my room, I had hidden a butter knife under my pillow. I castrated him and ran away, fleeing Fontaine. I wandered through Sumeru and then to Monstadt but even the city of freedom couldn’t protect me. So, I kept moving. It was when I was on my way through Liyue that the authorities caught up to me. The maid who had tried to help me was sleeping with the man and hence reported me. The hearing was quick, and I was put away fast. No one wanted to consider the implications of a thirteen-year-old being married to a thirty-three-year-old whom they all dined with. I heard he died a few years ago but my sentence keeps getting extended every time it gets close to the date of my term. I suspect it’s the maid. I was supposed to be here for eight years and well, I am still here. That’s why I must marry that Guard.” You took a long sip from your tea and then placed the cup down. “I’m damaged goods,” you said.
Wriothesley remained silent. He looked to be thinking of something and you had never seen his expression so dark.
“You’re not damaged,” he said, “and he’s lucky he lived after that.”
You smiled. It was a bitter smile; one filled with more exhaustion than remorse.
“Luck favours the rich.”
“If a man will not work, he shall not eat,” Wriothesley said, reciting the famous lines that painted the walls of Meropide.
You raised your teacup at him before taking another sip.
“Jokes aside, thank you for telling me,” he said.
He stood up and you feared he was going to ask you to leave. You wouldn’t be sad, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself, but the sinking feeling came all the same.
He offered you his hand and you stared at it. Your brows furrowed before you hesitantly took it. He pulled you up to your feet. His cold hand intertwined with yours.
“Can I hug you?” he asked.
He’d never asked this before. Did you look like you needed a hug? Because you wanted one.
“Please,” you choked out.
You would never have described Wriothesley as warm, but when he held you in his arms and you heard his heart racing you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly warm. A single tear rolled down your cheek. Then another, and another, and another until you were sobbing into his shabby inmate shirt.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I know.”
You’d been holding onto these feelings for so long. Letting them fester inside you like a sickness. No one had ever stopped to hear your side of the story and you thought you were okay with that. You thought if they stayed away from you then you could pretend to be like every other inmate brought in for stealing a slice of cake meant for Lady Furina. You thought you could hide your truth, but behind every fake smile, you wore it on yourself like a body of armor.
His shirt crumpled in your hands. He swayed from side to side and traced tiny circles on your back with his thumb.
“You did what you had to do. If he was alive, I’d kill him,” he said.
You wiped your eyes and looked up at him. “Please don’t fight tomorrow.”
He brought a hand up to your cheek and brushed away your tears. He decided then that he hated your tears, and he would do anything to see to it that you didn’t feel that way again.
 However, he hated the idea of you living with this pain more. He hated seeing that diamond on the finger where his should be. He hated it even more that you knew that he hated it before he had admitted his feelings for you. If his resolve hadn’t been solidified before now it would be completely. He would free you, and if you decided you wanted to be with him once you sprouted your wings, then he would accept you with open arms. He wouldn’t put you in another cage. He’d hate to see your heart break because to him you were his heart.
Wriothesley’s attention dropped to your lips; they were wet with your tears. He leaned down and brushed his lips to the corner feeling your sadness.
You turned your head at the last moment and captured his lips.
He froze.
You gripped his shirt tighter and reached up on the tips of your toes pressing your mouth further into his; willing him to reciprocate. Your first kiss with Wriothesley tasted like bitter water. It was soft and desperate. It knew what it was without the need for words or discussion.
His chest heaved as he pulled away.
“Don’t leave me,” you whispered.
“I won’t…” 
He wouldn’t—at least not tonight. Although, he didn’t know whether it was day or night outside of Meropide. The underworld was a different world entirely. It never truly slept. It didn’t adhere to the rules of the sun or the moon. It was filled with endless possibilities. Possibilities that could alter both of your existences and if he couldn’t free you above ground, he knew sure as hell would free you below. Although, one night of keeping you safe in his arms couldn’t hurt.
You sat down on his mattress. You looked so much smaller than he remembered, then again it had been twelve years.
He recalled your soot-covered face, and dull eyes when you had greeted him, the day he arrived at Meropide. The day he had begun his new life; his birthday. Although the circumstances weren’t great, he knew from the moment you said, ‘Welcome to hell,’ that he would love you.
He sat beside you.
“Tell me what you want?” he said, earnestly.
You leaned into him.
“I want you to be yours.”
It was true. You wanted him. Engagement be damned. Even if it was just one night, you wanted something for you. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was asking for too much, but you didn’t care. You had spent too long denying yourself the things you want to maintain a peace no one else upheld.
Wriothesley gripped your wrist and groaned what sounded like your name, but you couldn’t be too sure.
“Give me a word,” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he began.
“I am not fragile.”
Though in front of him, you were.
“I know you are not. Give me a word so I know to stop if it gets too much for you.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and rested his forehead against yours.
“Time,” you breathed.
That’s what you wanted—time. Time to love him, time to live, time to take back all the things you regretted and start again. Time to meet him before you both became who you were.
“Okay,” he said, leaving a kiss behind your ear. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
Only tonight. He reminded himself.
He could promise you that for certain. He couldn’t promise tomorrow, not because he was a pessimist but because he knew tomorrow was never certain. He had you now. He would make sure he had you forever but now would have to be enough. He would make it enough.
“Yours. Completely,” you said.
Another tear rolled down your cheek.
He pulled off his shirt. 
Your mouth merged with his, your tongue slipping into his open mouth tangling, exploring searching. He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes closing despite the desire to see every expression on your face.
You broke the kiss and leaned back pulling off your shirt. His eyes dropped to your breasts.
“Just for me,” he whispered, taking them into his hands and kneading them slowly.
He traced kisses down your neck, wishing to mark you, to lay his claim to you. He wouldn’t however, not yet…not tonight.
You fiddled with the string to his bottoms, untangling it and reaching in to feel his erection. He groaned against your neck unafraid to let you know how good it felt. You grasped his cock. It was thick, thicker than you expected, and so hard.  You needed both hands to grip him properly.
“Take off that fucking ring,” he hissed upon feeling it on his skin. You did, taking off the ring and dropping it with your shirt on the floor. You gripped his cock again, your hands feeling so much lighter without the mental weight of the ring.
“Harder,” he growled as you stroked him.
You tightened your grip watching as the crease between his brows grew. He rolled his hips into your hand.
“Oh, that’s it,” he panted.
You bit your lip and focused on the reddened tip.
Your thumb brushed the crown wiping away the drops of precum. He jolted, his jaw unhinging, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. You froze and released his cock. He opened his eyes, worried, only to see you on your knees between his legs.
He opened his legs wider and slid closer to the edge of the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and gripped it in his hand as he used the other to keep him up on the bed.
“Go on,” he said. “Show me how much you want me.”
You didn’t need to be told twice.
Gripping, his cock you gave the tip a lick listening to his pleased grunts. Slowly you took him into your mouth, enjoying the sensation of his hand gripping your hair.
“Good girl, taking me so well.”
You were soaked just from listening to his praise. You slipped a hand into your underwear and began rubbing your clit.
His breath quickened, and his mouth felt incredibly dry from his inability to close it. His hips jerked, as you took him deeper. He heard you gag as he felt your throat quiver around his cock. He pulled out, letting you catch your breath before he thrust back into your throat. Your eyes rolled and drove a finger into yourself.
You bobbed your head keeping up with the brutal pace he was setting. You loved hearing his grunts and groans; you loved feeling his cock twitch and his pace stagger as he got closer. Despite how hard it was, you looked up at him. His mouth was agape, his eyes barely open. You released him just when you knew he was going to cum.
Wriothesley opened his eyes to see you waiting, mouth open, your mouth and chin dripping with saliva. You looked glorious.
“You’re stunning,” he breathed and released your hair, wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping it until the first spray of cum splattered your lips. “So perfect, with such a pretty mouth.”
You licked your lips and opened your mouth again, leaning closer till the tip rested against your tongue.
Wriothesley felt like he was in a dream or heaven or both.
“Swallow it all,” he panted as he pumped the rest onto your tongue.
You did so, licking your lips and opening your mouth to prove it.
At the sight of your flushed face, your blown lust-filled eyes, and your hand deep in your pants, he found himself hardening again. He had promised tonight, and tonight he was going to have. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man.
“Get on the bed right now, naked and on your back,” he ordered.
You shimmied off your work pants and your underwear, laying on the bed under his hungry gaze. He stood and stripped the rest of his clothes away before joining you on the bed. It was barely big enough for both of you, but he was going to make it work. He kneeled before your closed legs.
“How are you?” he asked.
“Good.”
“Just good?” he teased, a smirk on his lips.
“Mhm just good,” you responded, reciprocating the expression.
“Oh, we’ll have to fix that,” he said, and scooping under your thighs, he opened your legs and pulled you closer to him.
You giggled at the speed at which he had your legs wrapped around his waist and his hard cock pressing against your soaked folds. He caged you between his arms as he rolled his hips slowly.
“I love you,” he said, staring into your eyes.
“I love you too,” you responded.
“I know.”
He kissed you with everything in his soul. At some point, he knew you loved him even if you hadn’t said it till just now. He knew it like how he knew the back of his hand but hearing it made it even better. It made it real.
He rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked hole, pushing in the tip just enough to feel you quiver before pulling out and running it over your pussy again.
“If I fuck you, you’re mine. No one touches what is mine. Do you understand?” He asked
Your heart stuttered.
“I understand.”
“After all, no one will be able to fuck you the way I can. Once I’m inside you unless you tell me otherwise, I’m not stopping until we both see stars,” he said, making sure he looked straight into your eyes as he did.
This wasn’t a game for him, he meant every single word and you knew it.
“Wriothesley, there will never be anyone like you.”
He groaned and slid in. Your back arched at the sheer size of his cock stretching you beyond your limits. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, grabbing onto the sheets for support.
“Breathe, relax,” he whispered. “Hold onto me.”
He continued to slowly push in bringing his knees closer giving him the right angle to get in as deep as possible. He gasped upon seeing himself completely disappear inside you. You tightened your legs around his waist, and dragged him down gripping his back, locking you into a mating press.
He waited till the need for release subsided before he began to move. The shitty bedframe, not built for the purpose it was being used for, squeaked, and hit against the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin, and stifled cries joined the air disturbing whatever sorry soul had the misfortune of being on the other side of the wall. Neither of you cared at that moment. Within minutes you had already come twice.
Your chest heaved, and Wriothesley cupped them leaving bites all over your breasts, he avoided any place people would be able to see but needed to mark you somewhere. He moved back up to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.
“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said quietly.
You slipped a hand between your rocking bodies and began to rub your clit. Wriothesley leaned back till he was kneeling. Gripping your waist, he continued to fuck you watching with hawk-like focus the way your fingers played with your clit. It was like you were under display, laid out for him to observe and study, and you were.
“So, that’s how you like it?” he said, feeling your walls clench around him for the third time that night.
You whimpered in response, your words had long since failed you. You began to slow as your hand grew tired and your body became closer to a collection of jolting nerves than functioning limbs.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you. You can give me two more, right?” he said.
You moaned as he replaced your hand continuing to rub your clit just as vigorously as you had started.
“Wriothesley,” you cried,
“Ssh, you’ve got this. Let go. Be a good girl and give me two more,” he urged you on.
You bit your lip and threw your head back letting out another cry which he swallowed eagerly. Your walls clenched again, and your body began to show the signs of a squirt. You sprayed, your legs shaking, your toes curling.
“Shit, you’re incredible. One more,” he captured your lips. “You’ve done so good. Just give me one more, my love,” he said against them.
One more and he would be satisfied. One more and he could guarantee that he would have enough resolve to follow through with his plans. Just one more.
You shivered again and bit down on his bottom lip as your final climax washed over you barely a minute later. He growled at the pain, tugging his lip from your mouth, and kissing you properly.
“Well done,” he said but continued thrusting at the same brutal pace. “I’m nearly there.”
You used what little strength you had to keep him inside. He said your name for what was the thousandth time that night.
“Not tonight,” he panted, smiling against your lips. “Trust me, I want to. I do, but not tonight.”
He pulled out and kissed you softly, stroking himself until his release painted your stomach. He kissed your forehead and rolled off you to not squash you under his weight.
You turned onto your side and cuddled into him. He wrapped his arms around you and entangled your limbs. You faced each other on the damp sheets.
It felt like time stopped. Everything melted away, you didn’t know whether it had been forty or four hours, and you didn’t care. You felt sticky and wet, the only thing cooling you down was the natural coolness of his skin on yours. Sleep drifted over you like a blanket not soon after. You tried to fight it off, wishing to talk to him longer; to try and convince him against fighting the administrator; to find a way with you because as long as you had each other you knew everything would be okay…
“Everything is going to be okay,” he said quietly as if he had read your mind, sending you off to sleep. “It’s all going to be okay.”
When you woke the next morning, well when the sound of the guards woke you from your sex-induced coma, Wriothesley was gone.
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Remember your safeword.
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You woke to cool scarred arms wrapped securely around your waist. Wriothesley’s head rested on your breasts. Flecks of grey mixed seamlessly into the stream of black hair reminded you that you were no longer in the past. You shifted slightly to free an arm. He grumbled something and nuzzled his head further into your breasts, securing his arms tighter around you as if afraid you were going to disappear. It was a habit he had developed over the years, an incessant need to hold onto you when he slept. You didn’t mind it too much, you liked being cold when you went to bed; it helped you sleep better.
“Wriothesley,” you whispered and ran a hand through his hair. You laid a peck on his forehead, and he stirred.
“Is it morning already?” he grumbled, though his eyes remained closed.
He had been awake for as long as you had been lost in your thoughts, silently listening to the sound of your pounding heart. He couldn’t help but wonder what thoughts ailed you on nights like these.
You admired the thick dark lashes casting shadows over his face.
“No, I just can’t sleep,” you said.
You knew his skin like the back of your hand. The scar under his eye, the scar on his neck that led down to the center of his breastplate and stopped on his sternum. The ones wrapped around his arms, the ones that scattered his waist and stomach, the ones on his thighs; even the small faint one on his calf from when he fell over as a kid. He told you that was when he knew his skin was going to be littered with scars. Wriothesley scarred easily and he scarred badly. However, despite their jagged appearances, none of them were too hideous for you to bear. You didn’t like them, but you loved Wriothesley, and as they were as a part of him as any other part of him, you learnt to love them too. They represented how many battles he had won. They represented every promise kept.
You lifted his head up and kissed the scar on his face, the one right under his eye.
You could feel his hardened cock pressing against your thigh. His pupils were blown when he finally opened his eyes.
He loved you so much it hurt. Yes, physically but also mentally. He loved how you accepted him, he loved how you chose him, and he loved how you chose you too. Most of all he loved how you looked when you teased him, so raw, so ripe, so ready to dismantle you completely.
“Oh, I can think of ways to help with that,” he murmured.
“I don’t know if I have the stamina, your grace,” you teased.
He let out a guttural noise.
He nibbled and sucked on your nipple, messaging your other breast in his cold, rough hands. Your breath staggered as you gave in to his touch. The sound went straight to his cock. He had fucked you into the sheets earlier that night, till you were blubbering and couldn’t remember your own name. Still, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough; he would never get enough of you. Despite your fear that one day he would disappear, he never would. It was Wriothesley who worried that one day you would grow tired of his incessant need to be near you; to have you, to consume you. So, he savoured every squirm, every shiver, every breathy gasp of his name that you would spare him, terrified that they’d be his last.
“Ah, well it’s a good thing that I have enough stamina for the both of us,” he said switching his attention from one boob to the other. The earlier hickeys had already darkened on your skin. “Think you can cum again?”
He would kiss each one later wishing for them to last forever.
“You’re insatiable,” you blushed.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I have my favourite meal right where I want her,” he said and began to trail his tongue down your stomach towards your sensitive clit. He wanted you on his tongue, in his senses… everywhere.
“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. It was what he always did before you both did anything sexual beyond intimate fondling and brisk kisses.
“Time,” you said.
“Good girl.” He half grinned.
He continued teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, absorbing every twitch and shake of your body.
“Wriothesley,” you spluttered. “I need you.”
“You’ve got me,” he said.
He slipped his tongue into you, circling, lapping, like a man possessed he devoured you. His nose brushed against your skin. It was knowing his eyes were on you the entire time that made everything feel ten times more stimulating. You let out a quiet gasp and gripped his hair.
“You’re so good for me.” He gave you a broad lick. “So perfect.”
He replaced his tongue with his fingers, curling them inside you and scissoring them open to stretch you out not that you needed much with how well he had fucked you before. Still, it was the thought of giving you pleasure that spurred him on.
“Wriothesley,” you said.
He hummed to show you he was listening, the vibration made you quiver.
“I want your cuffs.”
He paused and pulled away, perking up. He secretly loved it when you surprised him.
“Oh? What for?”
You smiled and gestured for his cuffs. He scrambled off the queen-sized bed and walked butt naked to where he left his cuffs. You admired his ass from the bed. He had a great ass, he knew it too, it was why he wore his jacket around Meropide. His nickname Ricecake had gotten around the Fortress years ago and whilst it was okay when he was a convict, he didn’t need that level of familiarity as the Duke. Besides, you were the only one he wanted observing his ass.
He climbed back onto the bed and handed them to you, the spiked metal looked so good in your hands. His eyes flickered to the rings on your ring finger—his rings. The ones he gave you when he officially proposed.
He never ended up fighting that day due to the administrator’s sudden disappearance.
He recalled how you had run around Meropide searching for him, your hair a mess, the beginnings of one of the love bites he had left dauntingly close to view, poking out of one of his shirts that you had thrown on instead of your own. He recalled how you had slammed open the door to the administrator’s office, breathless, beautiful, with your eyes full of tears to him sitting behind the desk organising the abandoned files. He recalled how he claimed you again there, in that office over and over and over again. The other man’s ring was long gone somewhere down the many drains of Meropide, and your sentence cleared not long after. There were perks to becoming the administrator of the fortress of Meropide. Perks that had the maid of that man who hurt you disappear to a place only known by Celestia, the Archons, Navia, and Wriothesley. Neuvillette knew too but unless there was a trial, he would keep his nose out of it.
You knelt on the bed swinging the cuffs on your fingers.
“Where have you gone?” you cooed bringing him back to reality.
“Mm, nowhere, just admiring the view,” he said coolly.
You shook your head and pushed him to lay back against the pillows.
“You’re working too hard, your grace. I can fix that,” you said and straddled him.
Reaching above him, you cuffed his arms to the bed frame.
He cocked a brow and playfully tugged against the restraints.
“Ah, I hope so,” he said.
You kissed the corner of his mouth, smirking.
His cock twitched at the memory of your first time together.
“Remember the safeword?” you asked.
Seeing you sat on him, your eyes filled with life, he couldn’t care less that you didn’t remember your past before Meropide. He didn’t care that you didn’t recall how he was the boy you gave bread to once when you spotted him wandering away from his home. How you had given him, a complete stranger what looked like your last piece of food because he was sitting alone. He didn’t care if all you remembered was your last two and a half decades together… because you were here now with him. You chose him just as he chose you.
“Time," he responded.
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snghnlvr · 4 months
Text
6:28 pm. / yang jungwon
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yang jungwon x fem!reader
synopsis: jungwon can’t stop kissing you!
includes: 1.5k words | FLUFFY FLUFF | jungwon is a simp | so is the reader so who’s at fault? | tooth rotting scenario that makes me cry about my single life | lots of kissing but i hope you can tell lol | jungwon in a tuxedo? plz sign me up!!
extra: this was supposed to be a short drabble but i think i got carried away .. | jungwon is bias wrecking me help me | i can imagine jungwon doing this to his partner and it dreads me | thank you taylor swift for motivating me to do this instead of my homework rn <3 | someone pls agree that jungwon is taylor swift coded - he’s written by a woman!!!
likes, comments and reposts are appreciated! <3
[below the cut]
i want to wear his initials on a chain ‘round my neck not because he owns me cuz he really knows me, which is more than they can say.
“jungwon!” you called out to him, holding a necklace that had his initials in it.
after jungwon fixed his tie, his figure approached to you immediately when you called out to him.
you’ve been trying to put your favorite necklace for the past five minutes and you realized it’s been almost time for prom in your high school.so you were rushing.
jungwon actually decided to match with you, sending you pinterest inspo when texting you, “us?🥰”. he never failed to make you blush in public. you had to immediately hide your phone from your teacher, putting your hand on your mouth to prevent a smile from being noticed.
jungwon picked a dark, emerald green dress on you since green is his favorite color on you, especially his green sweater. you chose a regular suit on him, but his tie would have the same emerald color. he thought it was the best choice, yet you were happy with the results.
when jungwon picked you up from your house with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, you were in awe. he looked really good in a tuxedo that you can’t believe that he’s your boyfriend.
you’re were so mesmerized.
he looked godly charismatic because it emphasized his body well, his golden skin radiating under your door light and his perfect middle part presented to you. you can still see his natural curly hair at the ends but it made you fall in love. jungwon looked so mature that you wonder if this is how he will look like in a couple of years.
after staring at jungwon, you felt your legs getting jelly.
you were starstruck at his appreciation that you felt like crying but before you do so, you hugged him tightly with your arms around his neck.
you heard jungwon chuckling, imagining his whisker dimples appearing as he stumbled at your sudden action. his hands immediately flew to your waist incase you would trip.
when jungwon arrived to your house, he was really nervous. he thought he will be a stuttering mess when he sees you, imagining your beauty in front of him, him only. his heart was beating so fast, that he thought he will get a heart attack. he took a deep breath and rubbed his chest to ease his anxiety. you opened the door and he felt like a mess. you were shining - glowing - twinkling like a jewel.
you greeted him with a smile as usual and he almost fell down like those cartoons when the male lead faints, but thank the heavens you grabbed him before he could do so.
your parents behind you captured the moment with their phones behind the wall of the door entrance. jungwon waved to your parents, shooting them a small smile as they gladly did the same. their hearts were warmed at the sight they were witnessing.
jungwon pressed his head to the crook of your neck, taking a whiff of your body wash; a combination of cherry blossoms and blueberries. he closed his eyes for a moment before pecking your neck. it slightly tickled you.
he removed himself, still holding you by the waist. he looked down at you with a smile, “hi my pretty girlfriend.” his dimple couldn’t help themselves from showing.
you couldn’t stop smiling at his cuteness. “hi my boyfriend.” you replied back with a cheeky grin. jungwon thought you were too gorgeous. he leaned down to steal a peck, maybe three pecks. making you frozen and hoping that your parents didn’t witness that.
now here you are in the hallways, where both of you didn’t show yourself in front of others yet. you can hear the faded music but you weren’t close to the entrance where people could easily spot you; more like both of you were at the exit.
you stood in front of a circular mirror. you wanted to present yourself, jungwon didn’t mind how long you were gonna take. as long as he’s with you, he couldn’t ask for more.
your frustration didn’t help you in putting on your necklace and you felt getting sweaty from the stress, so you called your lovely boyfriend who has been inspecting the decorations all over the halls with his hands in his pockets and his boba-like eyes wandering around. you find the situation very adorable.
jungwon noticed it what you were asking for even if you verbally didn’t say it. he took your necklace, realizing that it had his initials and he smirked at your wise choice.
you looked in the mirror, seeing your boyfriend easily towering behind you and it made your heart shake. you moved your hair to one side so he can easily put it on.
jungwon slowly opened the chain as you eye his every action. you kept getting distracted by him that it was making you insane.
jungwon took a step closer to you, putting the necklace in front of you. you held your breath when the gold touched your skin.
jungwon was so attentive in making sure that the adjustment was making you comfortable. “is that alright?” he suddenly whispered, making your neck get goosebumps not from his breath but his deep voice.
you nodded and whispered, “yeah that’s fine.” you smiled at him. he couldn’t see you across the mirror but he felt it in your tone.
“done.” jungwon smiled proudly with his dimples. you exhaled as you were touching his initials on your neck, proudly displaying.
jungwon swore that you looked extra attractive.
“you’re so beautiful y/n.” jungwon suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly as he kept his head in your neck just like earlier. it felt perfect like a puzzle piece.
you chuckled at his sudden touchiness. “and you are handsome too, jungwon.” you put your hands on where his hands were on your waist, slowly rocking side to side.
“jungwon that tickles!” you pulled away slightly when you felt his kisses on the side of your neck. jungwon pouted when you pulled away.
“awe i can’t kiss my princess anymore?” you rolled your eyes at his childness. “you know what i meant.” you eyed him at the mirror.
jungwon shook his head, making his hair do a little bounce. he pulled you back in which you easily obliged. he continued planting little pecks, sometimes longer on your neck. your stomach was tingling at his lips touching your skin and the noises made your heart flutter.
you love his kisses.
you looked at the mirror at what was happening. you bit your lip at the attractive scene like it’s a manhwa. your breath was getting heavier each second has passed.
“alright you’re having too much fun now.” you removed his hands from your waist and turned around, your back pressed against your mirror. you fiddled with jungwon’s fingers.
you were about to say something, along the lines of, “let’s go” but jungwon kept staring at you with an affectionate face with his head tilted to the side, not caring about what you were saying. he was gonna to continue.
his lips were pressed into yours once again, making your legs feel like jelly. jungwon held your waist to keep you still as your arms slowly made way towards his neck to make the kiss deeper.
kissing before prom wasn’t apart of your bucket list but you didn’t mind it.
jungwon let go, leaning his forehead against you as he stared at you.
you giggled at his lips, it’s now stained in your lipstick. “now your lips are stained.” you tried wiping your lipstick from his lips with your fingers but jungwon didn’t care. he didn’t care how filthy or disgusting comments he would get from getting lipstick stains from you. as long as it was from you, he couldn’t careless. maybe that’s why you love your boyfriend a little too much heh
“you’re so touchy today, i wonder why..” you asked, eyes focused on his lips. you were making sure the lipstick was fully removed but you can’t tell if that’s his natural lip color; being swollen from your kiss or your lipstick.
jungwon tapped his fingers on your hips, slightly gripping them. “because i have the most beautiful girl in front of me.” he smile with a smug that made you laugh lightly. “mhm couldn’t help myself.” he looked proud acting like a prince.
“stop it jungwon, you gonna make me a mess before we take a step inside.” you jokingly pressed your hands against your cheeks, lightly tapping them to indicate your blushing.
jungwon smiled, staring at you with shining eyes as he grabbed your hand from your cheek, intertwining with his and pressed them against his cheek.
your lips were slightly open as it caught you off guard but you smiled from ear to ear when he pecked your hand, staring at you. his eyes were smiling.
“i love you y/n.” jungwon whispered against your lips. “i love you too.” you didn’t hesitant to reply, pecking him one more time before finally fixing yourselves to go inside of your school’s auditorium.
“hey what took so long!?” your classmate heeseung noticed the both of you at the entrance, his voice slightly irritated because both of you said 7:00pm. it was currently 7:30pm.
both of you blushed and looked away.
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