Dating Shidou means acting like a parent, most of the time. Because with him, you’re never quite sure if he’s going to microwave his protein shake (and make an excuse to say it was a fun science project he conceived from his mind), try to lick glitter off a party decoration or swallow something just because it “looked edible”.

Despite all of that, you love him. For all his reckless, wild energy—he was just a carefree guy that likes to cause trouble here and then to keep some excitement in his life.

But Shidou always slows down for you. Behind the sharp smirk and chaotic laughter—there’s softness he only shows to you. He kisses your temples every morning without amiss, holds your hand even when you’re just walking across the living room (he excuses it by saying he’s protecting you from yourself—which didn’t really make sense), and curls around you at night like you’re his entire world. Because you are.

He treats you like royalty—his princess.

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, when your kitchen smelled sweet with the scent of freshly baked brownies. You could almost taste it in the air—the deep cocoa, the hints of vanilla and it makes your mouth water (and you knew Shidou probably had the same or even worse reaction to it).

You had just finished baking what your friend had so innocently requested, brownies with aphrodisiacs. You also planned on baking a normal batch for Shidou, knowing he’d sulk and whine endlessly if you didn’t make any for him.

The second you set the brownies to chill, you focused on tidying up—rinsing off spatulas, wiping counters, loading the dishwasher. So deeply immersed in the rhythm of cleaning up, you didn’t hear the creak of Shidou sneaking in behind you.

And little to your knowledge, Shidou, unaware that one batch contained aphrodisiacs…just had to eat those.

The first sign that something was off came in the form of arms suddenly winding around your waist. His grip strong, warm—almost too warm. Then came the kisses, slow, soft and affectionate—peppered all along the curve of your neck, your jaw, your shoulder.

His breath hitched against your skin, and his voice, usually loud and cocky, was a low, dreamy murmur.

“Love you…love you so much baby, so fuckin’ pretty…so sweet…mine, yeah?”

Those words, those kisses—his grip, they all made you freeze. You slowly turned your head, only to be with glassy pink eyes and a completely dazed expression on his flushed face.

“Your brownies were sooo good…so delicious,” he mumbled, his lips brushing against your cheek, “tasted different…but soo good. I want more…of you.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait. Wait, Ryu—what brownies did you eat?”

He blinked at you, confused by your sudden question. “The ones on the tray, left side…the extra gooey ones. They are mines, right?”

And what’s when your soul left your body. Your hand immediately pressing to his forehead, cheeks and neck—he was burning up. The aphrodisiac batch. He ate them—judging by the chocolate smeared near the corner of his lips.

He ignores the way you react, his grip tighter now, nuzzling himself into your neck again, whispering between heated kisses and slow, clumsy touches.

“Wanna feel you close… ‘cause no brownie tastes as good as you do.”