#I had to Google that I only had the stupid sound in my head but not the word

[taelophone]

SUN MOON childhood enemy! Luigi x reader

Trigger Warnings ; bad ass kids . not entirely proofread cuz I just want this OUT of my drafts . awkward teens . google translate Italian. little Luigi speaks Italian .

taglist // masterlist

During the summer, life in Maryland was a time to enjoy the slow summer sun and the gentle kisses of the salty seaside breeze. Summer— and all her many flora and insecta children alike— brought forth comforting reminders that life gets better when you can tune out the distractions.

The sun was hot; his white and blinding rays of solar energy cast down on the little people below as they took his eternal radiance for granted. What would life be like without his overbearing and constant presence… Would it be dark? What would happen to our earth should he decide his love and life are no longer warranted in our solar system?

“Hey.”

A little voice was heard just a bit away from you while your hands caressed the green blades of grass between your fingers. Unfamiliar, but not quite authoritative…like a little boy who hadn’t yet experienced a stern talking to about tone and how to control it.

You tore your gaze away from the bright blue sky, your eyes adjusting to the bright atmosphere as you stared at the tanned boy with unruly cocoa-brown curls. He stood alone, unaccompanied by an adult or a group of young lackeys like in the Disney Channel movies.

“Hi…” you said, tilting your head at him and giving him a half-assed wave.

“What’s your name?” He asked, approaching you with a lack of caution that could only stem from precious youth.

You stared at him, scanning him with slight caution as he stood over you before telling you his name. His brows furrowed, a slight glint of disappointment in his eyes before his lips moved before he could think.

“That’s a weird name. I’m Luigi!” He said, sitting next to you on his knees.

Your brows pinched together, a brief look of shock and anger flashing at the stranger before you adopted an expression of confusion.

“Like the Mario character? That Luigi?” You asked, biting back a little giggle as he frowned at you.

“No! I’m Ee-tall-ean!” He disputed, his face scrunching up in disapproval as he shot you a glare from out the side of his eye. “Plus, my mommy says Luigi is the better brother.”

“No, he’s not…” you stated, rolling your eyes at his stupid comment.

“Yes, he is! My mommy said so!” He grumbled, pulling up patches of grass from the soil in a closed fist.

“It’s Mario. He’s the main character, plus he has a cooler mustache,” you sighed, fixing the skirt that pooled just above your knees as you took your eyes off Luigi.

“Yeah, but Luigi’s taller,” He argued, crossing his arms over his chest like he had made the best point in the world.

“Mario has all of his games…there’s not a game called Luigi,” you snickered, picking at the little ends of sticks and twigs.

He paused, evaluating your statement in his head with a rather impolite scowl. He didn’t yet know you, but your combative and dismissive nature seemed to set off bouts of anger in his stomach that left it feeling light and fluttery.

“Well, there’s Luigi’s mansion. That’s a great game!” He offered, picking up a little white dandelion and blowing its little white seeds into your face.

“Hey!” You half-shouted, rustling your hands over your head to try and clear any of the fuzzballs from your hair. “You’re mean, I’m telling!”

“Fine!” He pouted, watching as you charged off to your mother, who sat on the far end of the park.

You told her all about the mean boy Luigi, taking note of the pale woman with curly black hair who sat next to her. She sighed and fixed the funky bangles on her wrist before patting your shoulder with a kind smile.

“That sounds like my son. I’ll talk to him, sweetie. He should know better than to be mean to a sweet girl like you!” She chuckled, setting off across the grassy park to her son, who sat just a couple of feet away blowing the dandelions away.

You couldn’t hear a lot of what they were saying— or maybe looking back, you just couldn’t understand, but you heard the pretty woman’s stern voice talking to her son as his high-pitched one argued back.

“Ma mamma, non voglio chiederti scusa!”

It sounded like English but muffled with a slight twang in their words. Either way, you clung to your mom's knee while shuffling around the stray leaves on the ground before Luigi and his mom came marching back up towards you, his mother holding his little collar like he would run away at any given opportunity.

“I’m sorry…” he pouted, his brows pinched together in resentment as he stared at you with nothing but malice.

“aggiusta il tuo viso!” The woman murmured, raising one of her thick and dark brows at her son.

His face instantly softened, his expression morphing into one of slightly exaggerated remorse as he repeated himself with a little less confidence.

“I’m sorry for being mean to you…it wasn’t nice,” he murmured, looking down at the ground before his mom released her hold on him. 

“Now hug it out,” she urged, scooting him over in your direction.

He pouted, a rather bratty sound emitting from the depths of his soul before he briefly threw his arm around your shoulder in an awkward side-hug. It wasn’t genuine by any means, but you leaned into it until he released you just as quickly.

“Don’t do it again,” she murmured, sitting back down on the bench by your mother and watching as Luigi toddled off.

That was the day you first met Luigi— the summer of two thousand and three. And since then, you had been relatively inseparable, but that wasn’t necessarily by choice or good relationship.

Your mothers had developed quite a sturdy relationship; when one of them decided to throw a little get-together, or Kathy’s husband decided to throw something on the grill, you would go visit Luigi and his two older sisters in their happy little home that always smelled like cinnamon and warm candles.

You made quick friends with his sisters, who you learned to be MariaSanta and Lucia, playing with them instead of their stupid brother. They were kind and didn’t seem to hold a deep vendetta against you for something that you didn’t do, so they proved to be better company than Luigi.

Your parents always laughed and joked about you being in love, swearing on everything that is holy that you’d grow up and have to be ripped from each other's bodies for you to do daily tasks like breathing. At seven, this was a repulsive idea.

I mean, he’s gross! He’s mean, he’s holding some stupid grudge against you because he was in a bad mood, and he’s overall just not good at playing Barbies, so you couldn’t see yourself ever entertaining the idea of him being cute.

“No, he’s kind of mean…I don’t know what I did, but he just doesn’t like me,” you sighed, sitting on Lucia’s bed while playing around with her new white Nintendo DS.

“He’s going through something…he’s not mean to me. He’s never been mean before, actually…” she said, pausing from braiding her life-sized doll's hair to pinch her brows together in silent thought. “I don’t know…he’s being weird.”

“Honestly, he’s just had beef with you for a while…he doesn’t shut up about you, and it’s annoying,” she sighed, her teenage angst setting in following her thirteenth birthday as she flicked her side bangs out of her face. 

“Maria’s been talking to him about it, he’s just having a little attitude problem. Don’t feel bad, you didn’t do anything,” she reassured, chalking the hair of her blonde Barbie with the pink Hot Huez hair chalk before tossing it somewhere around her room.

She was so effortlessly cool— in a sort of angsty, moody, deep teen kind of way. It seemed as if all the Mangiones knew how to do was be intimidating and smart, as you were sure there was not one member of the family who didn’t radiate a composed and confident aura.

Seconds later, her older sister MariaSanta came slinking into the room, typing away on her white Motorola flip with her hair clipped back.

“Ehi, Ci, mamma dice che il Lu’ vuole andare al parco. Puoi portarlo?”

You watched as they conversed around you, Maria only briefly glancing up from her phone as Lucia became more avid on refusing whatever her sister was asking of her. You watched the two bicker back and forth in Italian, slowly slipping out of Lucia’s room when they began to raise their hands and increase in volume.

It’s probably better just to let them deal with that.

You roamed the halls of the Mangione household, stopping by in the kitchen to say hi to your mom and Ms. Kathy, who was in the process of making some sweet treat that you and the rest of the children could scarf down later. She slid you a bowl of some cut-up fruit- apples, pears, mangos, kiwi, and oranges as she chatted with your mother over a glass of deep red.

You sat at the table as you watched the many Mangiones come and go through the front and back door, each one offering you their tone and pitch of a polite greeting. Each bite of citrus was punctuated by a pot clattering, a rich laugh, a thump from upstairs, and very rarely, the sound of one of the three siblings upstairs losing their minds at whatever it was they were doing at the moment.

Soon enough, Luigi came skipping down the stairs in pursuit of something to quell his festering hunger before dinner. He shot you a glare, sticking his tongue out at you before approaching his mom with a contrastingly gentle smile.

“Mamma, posso avere qualcosa da mangiare?”

“English, baby, we have guests,” she urged, standing over the stove with a large spatula stirring up a pot full of sautéed onions and garlic.

“Can I have something to eat, please?” He murmured, his little accent biting at the ends of his words as he leaned over the counter.

“I just cut up some fruit, you’ll have to share with your friend,” she chuckled, pointing to the table you sat at with a light shrug. “And be nice. Your sisters keep telling me about your little attitude problem, and if you don’t fix it, I will.”

He groaned, stomped his little foot on the porcelain tiled floor before dragging his feet every step of the way to the fruit bowl. He sat as far away from you as he could while still reaching the fruit bowl, in other words, directly in front of you.

“Hi,” he stated, his tone ice cold as he snatched the bowl of fruit from your hands.

“Hey!” You huffed, slamming your hands down on the table with a deep frown. “I want some, too!”

“Luigi!” Kathy scolded, turning around to shoot her son a stern glare.

“Sorry…” he pouted, sliding the bowl back over to you before snatching a big handful of fruit.

You huffed, walking away from the table over to the living room and seeking refuge amongst the pile of cars and pretend kitchens that hadn’t received any love since the late nineties. The best thing you could do was avoid him, just like you had done since he hugged you in that little green park.

You would bicker and battle all day, fighting over not wanting to share fruit, who had more toys, how many fries you had to share when going to McDonald’s, and many insignificant things that seemed to be the world to a couple of seven-year-olds. It was only when you grew older, when your closet grew less pastel and sparkly, that you finally noticed a shift in Luigi’s behavior.

He was no longer combative and annoyed with your presence; in fact, he was quieter,  his attitude became one of respect, and he had begun to treat you like somewhat of a family friend. When he wasn’t downstairs playing on his Xbox or talking his dear mother’s ear off about some sort of STEM program, he was holed up in his room doing whatever it was boys do.

There were no more snarls, petty sighs, or sharp eyes when you entered the same room as him. With time, you earned a quiet greeting from Luigi, usually in the form of a quiet “hey” or a brief nod.

Instead, a quiet hymn of respect slowly began to blend between the two of you, prompting you to spend just a little bit more time together than you normally would. During family trips, you’d find yourself a little more lost in his company while wordlessly wandering the wooded forests and noisy metal machinery at theme parks. 

You never spoke much; there wasn’t much to talk about. Part of it was because neither of you knew what to say after being at each other's throats for oh so many years, but another part of you longed to acknowledge the heavy blanket of unspoken tension that had rendered your nascent relationship partially mute.

When you did speak to each other, you began to notice changes in yourselves that served as an example of the childish mannerisms that you packed away with maturation; everything about him was different. It was scary– like navigating a sailboat in the pitch-black night over murky waters.

His voice had slowly begun to slip down its slippery slope of puberty, and both of your faces had begun to shed their baby features. Luigi had grown into his big, bright babydoll eyes and his awkwardly lanky build, and you finally found an even balance in your voice that had become less brittle and tremulous.

As much as it pained you to admit, basking in the presence of post-reform Luigi sent blooms of pink and red flashing through your face. You even found yourself visiting the Mangione estate more often, always mindful of the fine line between a casual visit and deliberately finding ways to snag a glimpse of him for even two seconds.

For now, your bait of choice was a metallic pink iPod Lucia had lent you earlier this summer. Life seemed so simple as you hop, skipped, and pranced your way over to Auntie Kathy’s house for what surely was the millionth time in your life.

You trekked up the many wooden stairs, leaving your invisible mark on the glossy dark oak handrail as you set off in pursuit of Lucia to return her iPod. You skipped through the empty halls, your deep black Converse thunking dully against the floor as you turned the house upside down to find the pretty woman, checking her old bedroom, closet, bathroom, and the attic before sighing to yourself.

It had been a couple of years since she moved out, but she would still lounge around in her room every now and again, and you didn’t want to ask Luigi where she was because that would just be awkward. But if you didn’t return her things, Luci would get all pissy, and then she’d breathe down everyone’s back until she found what was rightfully hers.

You learned in that moment that life wasn’t that simple, and sometimes you have to do things that would make you feel smaller than any height difference ever could. Sure, you partially came to see Luigi, but you didn’t expect you’d have to go out of your way to interact with him…a small interaction in the hallway would have sufficed.

You sucked in a deep breath through your nostrils, letting the cold air dehydrate your nose before you plucked the metallic pink iPod from your back pocket and headed toward Luigi’s room. You suddenly felt a little self-conscious as you neared the entryway, smoothing over the wrinkles in your black and blue sweater and obsessing over the way your hair laid before knocking twice on his door.

“Come in.”

His voice was raspy and muffled, like the claws of an all-black bloodhound scratching at the metal bars of his cage. It trickled down your ears like cold water, pressing against your eardrum like a boulder of vibrant emerald.

You pushed open the door cautiously, taking in the slate blue walls, Mario Kart posters, the random KISS poster, and his relatively organized black desk as he sat on the floor playing his Xbox. He didn’t bother to look who was at the door, like a part of him just knew who was there.

”Did you need something?” He asked, lying down with his elbows planted on the hardwood floors, his rather large charmander plush wedged between his chest and the floorboards to keep his chest from coming into contact with the ground.

“Have you seen Lucia? I have to give her her iPod back before she goes back to school. She said she was leaving next week, but like, I can’t find her…” you sighed, running the pad of your thumb across the smooth, glossy backside of the iPod to quell your jumpy nerves.

“Nah, she went out earlier today with Maria and mom…Do you want to leave it here? I can give it to her when she gets back,” he mumbled, the semi-loud sounds of endless bullet rounds emptying from his television screen dying out as he turned his head to look over his shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, that’s fine…” you murmured, setting the pink music player on his nightstand before pausing to look at the television. “Is that the new Grand Theft Auto?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, his brows furrowing slightly as he turned his attention back to the screen. “Oh, yeah. My mom would never let me play this, I got it from my friend Bryan…”

“Cool…can I try?” You asked, stepping further into his room while remaining mindful of the stray socks that occasionally littered the floor.

He nodded, wordlessly passing you the controller, then scooting over a little to allow you some space in front of the television. You joined him on the floor, settling yourself on your knees before driving around in a beat-up-looking blue car with bullet holes.

“So wait, what do you do…?” You asked, steering around and hitting every bystander and stationary pole in the process.

“Well, there’s story mode…you can play if you want, but I didn’t get very far. The game pretty much just glamorizes violence and burglary. Don’t play this, it’ll make you all violent and angsty,” he murmured, watching as you ran around on the beach, punching random people.

“But you’re playing it?” You challenged, raising a brow at him defiantly.

“Yeah, but that’s different…at least I acknowledge that it’s bad for me. You might say it’s just a game or I’m being too serious,” he chuckled, shaking his head while you ran from the cops by swimming in the water.

“How are you gonna say something’s bad for you then continue to play it?” You asked, handing him the controller as the screen flashed its deep red “WASTED” sign.

“Because I have no self-control.” he smiled, taking the controller from you cautiously so his fingers wouldn’t dare touch yours.

You watched as he wiggled through the virtual valleys, steering through traffic with just his thumbs like he’d been playing the game for years despite its fresh release. A blanket of silence fell over the two of you as you quietly observed the game, feeling a little bit more comfortable in his presence compared to when you first entered his room.

Gone was the snarky, petty, and grubby little child who would jeer at you for just walking past him in a social setting. The days of fighting over who got more love and attention from their parents were long over, and all the solvent had fizzled out to reveal a cloudy and light pink solute of slight affection.

The screams and shouts of pixelated players filled the room, but the sounds were deemed insignificant in your mind as you focused on the way your heartbeat thumped in your ears. Now that you had actually spent time with him, something about his quiet and respectful nature was very flustering.

Puppy love is a rather heart-breaking term. The cruelty of denying someone’s emotions, writing them off as youth, and chalking them up as temporary is a discourteous denial that’s been written in the book of parenting for many, many generations.

When Luigi was just a little six-year-old on the field, he was able to identify the meaning of beauty at a very early age. How could he not when it sat just a few feet away from him, staring at the sun?

Quiet like midnight, enchanting like the stars, and deep like the never-ending void of space. He became enthralled with your lunar aura and mysterious face, so much so that he knew no other way to express cuteness aggression besides actual aggression.

Without the sun, the moon can’t rise above and bathe the world in her white and blinding rays of energy. Without the moon, the world would be lost in an infinite void of timeless chaos.

The sun and moon need each other to function, but they’re never as close to each other as they want to be. The sun will forever miss his gaudy goddess of sleep, so he’ll stay up as late as his eyes will allow until she rises from the earth to lull him back to sleep.

“Hey, Luigi?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of the cyber-green television glow as he booted up Minecraft instead of Grand Theft— probably because he felt guilty for showing you such a terrible game in the first place.

“Yeah?” he mumbled, shuffling through his Minecraft worlds until he found the perfect one.

“Why were you so mad at me when we were kids?”

“Uhhhh...” He sighed, a single brow raising slightly as he squinted his eyes to visualize his answer.

“I don’t know, actually…you never did anything. I’m sorry, I think I just wasn’t used to talking to any girls besides my sisters,” he chuckled, a slightly self-deprecating smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. 

You nodded, shifting around on the floor to sit flat on the ground with your knees to your chest. 

“I think I used to talk to my sisters about you, actually…” he hummed, powering off his Xbox before sliding his controller somewhere under his bed. 

“Really? I would tell my mom how much I hated you,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m sure…I don’t really know what my problem was,” he sighed, cracking nearly all of the knuckles and bones in his body before turning to face you again. “You can stay and help me make paper bouquets, if you want…actually, I’m gonna be honest, I just need help. I don’t know a thing about paper flowers.”

“Paper flowers? Why, you got a date you wanna humor?” you surmised, getting up off your knees to join him beside his desk.

“No!” he blurted, a little too eagerly for his liking. “Sorry, no. I don’t have a date…I just really wanna tell someone I'm sorry the right way.”

“Ohhh, so you’re just really not good with women,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes with a light smile as the jaws of jealousy nipped at the front of your brain.

“I’ve only interacted with like…four,” he admitted, taking out a fat stack of construction paper in your favorite color. “But I lowkey effed up the first time…and I still didn’t really apologize, so.”

You sat down with him at his desk, spending the rest of the day learning and perfecting eight good-sized paper flowers with a spritz of what should have been floral perfume, but when your only materials are the scents in a teenage boy's room, sometimes flowers smell like Axe Body spray.

You finished up the last petal, folding the corners of the paper to reveal an adorable lily flower with a pale yellow stamen. By the time everything was done, Luigi’s hands were riddled with paper cuts, and your fingers were all cramped up.

“Thanks,” He smiled, accepting the final flower from you and tying together the surprisingly presentable bouquet with a little piece of satin he got from god knows where, rolling them up in some old newspaper, and scribbled down a little note in his chicken scratch handwriting.

“These are for you, by the way…” he mumbled, handing you the bouquet with a cupidly tint in his cheeks while his eyes remained glued to the ceiling. “I’m sorry I was so mean…I thought about it a lot and realized it’s incredibly disrespectful that I was rude to you because you held me to a normal standard.”

If words could materialize and travel through the world, yours were long lost somewhere in the rogue waves of love and shock. After all those many years of gagging and whining when your parents joked about you falling for Luigi someday, suddenly your gag reflex was out of commission.

“Oh…Thank you! Thank you so much, this is really sweet-” you practically babbled, leaning over in your chair to give him a real hug, not a forced and awkward side one that you came to expect after every stern talking-to, but a comforting and warm one in which your arms wrapped around his shoulders before leaving a bold kiss on the side of his cheek.

And when you pulled away, the blush that spread across his face let you know that things would be different this time. No more hiding behind the excuse of coming to see Lucia who had long since run off to college, no more awkward pauses in conversations, no more running from the truth you had tried so tragically hard to discredit.

You loved Luigi.

General taglist ; @lorelaisg1lmore @flaca335 @7luvrs @fancyyanci @f4b111 @born444u

[sirxaibs]

⋆˚✿˖° ❝𝗜𝘁 𝗙𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘀 𝗖𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗱𝗲𝗱❞ ⋆˚✿˖°

────୨ৎ────

Geto Suguru x Reader

Gojo Satoru x Reader

────୨ৎ────

⋆˚✿˖° 2. I’ve Played these Games Before

Headcannon, the men are stupid

₍^. .^₎⟆ Geto sighed, stretching his arms as he strolled toward his dorm. The study session had been useless (as expected), but at least it had been entertaining. Though, if he was being honest, the best part of the evening had been watching Gojo flail around in real-time romantic panic.

He smirked to himself. That was going to be fun to watch unfold.

Not that he cared much about the bet itself. That was just a way to mess with Gojo, to see him squirm. Nothing more.

His plan was simple he’d treat you exactly the same as always. Calm, confident, teasing. Unlike Gojo, he didn’t need to rely on some ridiculous strategy. He wasn’t about to start googling psychological tricks like a lovesick idiot.

No, he’d just make a few subtle changes. More intentional eye contact. More casual touches. More moments of quiet attention, the kind that made people feel like they were the only one in the room.

At least, that’s what he thought, until lunchtime the next day, when Gojo started getting on his nerves.

Because, of course, Gojo wasn’t capable of subtlety.

“Wow,” Gojo whistled, sliding into the seat across from you. “Look at you, already eating without me? I thought we had something special.”

You looked up mid bite, a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth. “Gojo, you were literally behind me in line.”

“Details,” he waved off, dramatically propping his chin in his hand. “But you know, I was thinking of eating alone today… until I saw you, and my heart just knew I couldn’t let that happen.”

You snorted. “Sounds rough, buddy.”

His sunglasses slid down his nose just enough for you to see his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have no idea.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, taking another bite of your food. Gojo watched you closely, subtly shifting in his seat. Step one—mirroring movements. You lifted your spoon, and he lazily picked up his chopsticks. You leaned forward slightly, and he mirrored the action. He was subtle about it, of course. Natural. Completely normal. Definitely not weird.

Except you paused, squinting at him.

“…Are you copying me?”

Gojo choked on air. “Wh—what? No! Pfft. I’m just sitting.”

Your grin widened. “Satoru, are you copying me?”

He waved his chopsticks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You squinted a second longer, then shrugged, going back to your food. “Mhm. Sure.”

Gojo let out a silent breath. Okay. Maybe less obvious on that one.

Right. Step two—eye contact.

He leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm as he gazed at you, letting his signature smirk tug at his lips. A confident, roguish expression that, historically, had driven people wild.

You, however, just blinked at him. “Are you- why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to read your mind or something.”

Gojo sighed dramatically. “I was just admiring the way the cafeteria lights shine in your eyes. Very mesmerizing. Stunning, even.”

You blinked again. “Satoru, the cafeteria lights are fluorescent.”

“Exactly,” he grinned. “Yet, somehow, you make them work.”

You just groaned, shaking your head. “You are so weird.”

He ignored the minor setback and moved to Step three—casual physical touch. Casual. Natural. Smooth. So he reached across the table and lightly flicked your forehead.

You recoiled, dramatically grabbing your head. “Ow?!”

“Oops.” He grinned. “Slipped.”

“You slipped into flicking me?”

“Crazy, right?”

You narrowed your eyes before retaliating, smacking his arm with the back of your spoon. “Oops,” you mimicked, grinning. “I slipped.”

Gojo laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, truce.” You huffed, still smiling, before turning your attention back to your food.

Step four—make them laugh.

He was already a pro at that. Easy. No problem. You weren’t in a bad mood or anything, just a little spaced out, quietly picking at your food while Geto and Shoko talked beside you. Normally, you’d be more engaged, but today, your mind just wasn’t all there.

Gojo, of course, noticed. And he could not let that slide.

“Alright, I’m making an official declaration,” he announced, leaning forward with a grin. “I’m getting her—” he pointed dramatically at you “—to laugh before lunch is over.”

Shoko didn’t even look up from her juice box. “Shouldn’t take long. Five minutes.”

“Two,” Geto said, smirking. “He’s predictable.”

You blinked at them. “Wait—what? I do laugh.”

“Not enough,” Gojo countered, watching you with exaggerated scrutiny. “Not the real, ugly, snorting kind. That’s the goal.”

“You don’t need that,” you said flatly.

“Oh, but I do.”

He leaned forward, hands clasped like he was about to deliver something profound. “Okay. Picture this. I’m fighting this cursed spirit the other day—big, ugly thing, smelled like a sewer. And it looks at me and goes, ‘Hey, aren’t you that discount Kakashi?’”

Silence.

Geto exhaled through his nose, mildly amused. Shoko just sighed. You gave Gojo a slow blink.

Gojo placed a hand on his chest, scandalized. “Nothing? That was comedy gold.”

“That was sad,” Geto corrected.

“Okay, fine, I can do better,” Gojo said, shaking it off before dramatically throwing himself against Geto’s side. “Bro, I can’t believe this. My own best friend, laughing before she does. This is a betrayal. How do I go on?”

“Quieter,” Geto muttered, shoving him off.

Gojo ignored him. “Alright, last attempt.” He turned to you, suddenly serious. “If you don’t laugh in the next ten seconds, I’m taking your dessert.”

Your head snapped up. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

And then, as if to prove he meant business, he grabbed two onigiri from Geto’s tray, wiggled them like little sock puppets, and in the most high pitched, overly dramatic voice you’d ever heard, went:

“Oh no, Gojo-sama, please spare us! We are but humble rice balls!”

He made one onigiri turn to the other. “Brother, I don’t think he’s going to show us mercy…”

The second onigiri shook dramatically. “No, we still have so much to live for! My wife, my children, who will tell them what happened to me?”

“I will, dear brother,” the first one promised solemnly. “I will tell them of your bravery!”

“No!” The second onigiri screamed (or rather, Gojo screamed for it). “You must live on! Let me be the one to—AHHH!”

And with that, Gojo chucked the onigiri into his mouth and took an exaggerated, victorious bite.

You burst out laughing. The kind of laugh you couldn’t hold in if you tried, the kind that made you lean forward onto the table, shoulders shaking as you gasped for air.

Gojo pointed at you with a mouthful of rice. “Boom. Victory.”

Shoko sighed, sipping her juice. “Took longer than I thought.”

Geto shook his head. “I’m never letting you near my food again.”

But Gojo wasn’t listening. He was too busy basking in his success, leaning toward you with a cocky grin. “Told you you couldn’t resist my charm.”

“You’re an idiot,” you wheezed, still catching your breath.

“And yet,” Gojo said, stealing your dessert anyway, “an idiot with perfect comedic timing.” You groaned I’m reply.

He grinned, triumphant.

Then, Step five, say their name more. “Hey, (Y/N),” he drawled, propping his chin on his hand.

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Satoru?”

He blinked. “Uh.”

Damn it. He didn’t actually have anything to say. He’d just read in some stupid article that saying your name was supposed to make you subconsciously more interested in him.

“…Nothing,” he said smoothly, smiling. “Just wanted to remind you how nice your name sounds.”

You gave him a look. “Right.”

A beat of silence. Then

“Satoru,” you said, voice suspiciously sweet.

Gojo grinned. “Yeah?”

“You are being weird.”

“Me?” He placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “Weird? Perish the thought.”

You just laughed, shaking your head as you finished the last of your food. “Anyway, as fun as this has been, Im a little thirsty.”

Gojo gasped. “What, you’re leaving me?”

“You’ll survive.” You smirked, standing up. “Probably.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “(Y/N), your cruelty knows no bounds.”

You just rolled your eyes but smiled. “I’ll be back I want to get a other juice Gojo”

And then you were gone, disappearing into the cafeteria crowd.Gojo sighed, dropping his head onto the table.Well. That could’ve gone better. He pulled out his phone, opening his notes app.

The Gojo Satoru Foolproof Love Plan™ (That Hopefully Works and Doesn’t End in Humiliation)

1. Mirroring movements (FAILED. TOO OBVIOUS.)

2. Eye contact (??? Unclear. Need feedback.)

3. Casual touches (Flicking? Bad idea. Find alternative.)

4. Make them laugh (SUCCESS. OBVIOUSLY.)

5. Say their name more (Awkward. Do not force it.)

6. Grand romantic gesture??? (Not yet. Too soon.)

7. Don’t mess this up. (Currently… TBD.)

Gojo sighed, locking his phone.

—

Geto watched from across the lunch table, fingers idly tapping against his drink, as Gojo leaned way too far into your space. He dropped your name into the conversation at least three times in the last minute, nudged your arm, and let out an exaggerated laugh at something you’d said, something that wasn’t that funny. Then when you got up he looked straight at gojo.

“Alright,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Are you trying to scare them away?”

Gojo shot him a look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Geto just raised an eyebrow. Gojo’s eye twitched slightly. Shoko, who had been watching this unfold with the air of someone witnessing a tragic yet hilarious accident, snorted. “You’re overdoing it,” she told Gojo.

“No, I’m not” Gojo started, then cut himself off, visibly forcing himself to look less desperate. He leaned back, feigning ease. “I mean, pfft. No way. This is all natural.”

Geto exhaled slowly, leveling Gojo with a knowing look.

Because here was the thing, Gojo wasn’t bad at this. He was naturally charismatic. He could be smooth. But when he actually cared about something? When it actually mattered?

He became a disaster, it was obvious that this mattered. Which meant Geto had the upper hand for now. He allowed himself a small smirk before turning back to you as you came back. Unlike Gojo, he wouldn’t trip over himself. He wouldn’t force it. He’d just let things fall into place.

This was going to be easy.

Except.

As lunch went on, Geto noticed something.

At first, Gojo’s fumbling had been amusing. Watching the ever-confident Satoru practically trip over his own feet was undeniably entertaining. But the longer Geto watched, the more he started to realize why Gojo was messing up so badly. Because Gojo flirted all the time. He teased, he charmed half the jujitsu world was wrapped around his finger without him even trying.

Gojo actually liked you.

The thought settled like a weight in Geto’s chest. His fingers tapped idly against the table.

He glanced at you. You were laughing, completely oblivious to the quiet crisis happening across the table. And something about that sent an uncomfortable twist through his stomach.

He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like this was serious. He was just messing with Gojo. That’s what he’d told himself. That’s all this was.

…Right?

Then why did his gaze linger a little too long when you smiled? Why did it bother him when Gojo made you laugh first? Why did it feel like he was always second to Gojo?

Because that was how it always went, wasn’t it?

Gojo was loud, blinding, impossible to ignore. The center of attention in every room. And Geto?

He was there. A presence. A shadow. Not invisible, not overlooked but never first. watching Gojo fight for your attention, watching you react to him, laugh at him. The weight in Geto’s chest grew heavier. His grip on his drink tightened.

No.

This wasn’t about Gojo. It wasn’t about the bet. It wasn’t about proving a point. This was about you. Because he didn’t just want to win. He wanted you and for you to know he wont always come second

He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his seat, watching as Gojo tried (and failed) to act casual.

—

“You know, (Y/n),” Gojo drawled, slinging an arm over the back of your chair like he owned the place. His fingers drummed lazily against the wood, his usual cocky smirk in place. “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s a first,” you quipped without missing a beat, eyes still focused on your food as you casually poked at your meal.

Across the table, Geto exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. Shoko, perched beside him with her cigarette balanced between two fingers, barely hid her smirk as she took a slow drag.

Gojo clicked his tongue, feigning offense. “Rude. I was about to say something really profound, actually.

Finally, you glanced up at him, eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. “Oh? Enlighten me, oh wise and powerful one.”

Gojo grinned wider, but Geto, who knew him better than anyone, noticed the way his fingers tapped just a little too quickly against the table. A nervous tic, barely noticeable. Interesting.

“Well, now I don’t want to with that attitude” Gojo continued, voice dripping with forced nonchalance. “I was just thinking, don’t you think we make a great pair?”

You blinked at him, head tilting slightly with a smirk. “A pair of what, exactly?”

For the first time since opening his mouth, Gojo hesitated. It was only for a fraction of a second, but in that brief pause, Geto could see the exact moment doubt crept into his friend’s mind.

“A pair of… cool people?” Gojo finally offered, flashing a sheepish smile, one hand adjusting his sunglasses even though they hadn’t moved.

There was a beat of silence. Shoko exhaled smoke through her nose, unimpressed. Geto took a slow sip of his drink, watching the interaction unfold with the air of a man witnessing a slow motion car crash painful, but fascinating.

Meanwhile, you squinted at Gojo, head tilting slightly, as if trying to decipher some kind of hidden meaning. “Did you just try to flirt with me by suggesting we… form a club?”

“No” Gojo started, but before he could finish, Geto decided to cut in. Because, really, this was just too good to pass up.

“Oh, I dunno,” he interjected smoothly, tilting his head slightly in your direction. His voice carried the perfect balance of amusement and intrigue, just enough to make Gojo twitch. “I think he’s onto something. You are pretty cool, after all.”

That got your attention. Your lips curled into a delighted grin as you turned to Geto. “Someone recognizes my greatness!” You placed a dramatic hand over your chest. “It’s about time.” You stick out your tongue to gojo

“Get I’m your knees and say I’m cool and you’re not ” You pointed your chopsticks at gojo,

Geto hummed, pleased with himself as he set his drink down. “I only speak the truth.”

Gojo’s eye twitched. Oh, come on.

Shoko exhaled another puff of smoke, watching the scene unfold like it was the best entertainment she’d had in weeks. This is a mess, she thought. A hilarious, glorious mess.

Gojo, meanwhile, looked like he was seconds away from combusting. He narrowed his eyes at Geto, who looked far too pleased with himself, before quickly shaking it off.

“Anyway,” Gojo cut back in, clearly trying to regain control of the conversation. He turned to you again, tapping your shoulder lightly as his grin returned. “What I meant was, you and me? We work well together, y’know? Great chemistry and all that.”

You smirk at him. “Like lab partners?”

There was a moment of silence and then Shoko choked on her drink. Geto coughed lightly, raising a fist to his mouth to cover his smirk. But internally? He was dying.

Gojo froze. His jaw clenched for just a fraction of a second before he forced a grin, his usual confidence cracking under the weight of sheer secondhand embarrassment. “Exactly like lab partners,” he said, voice painfully flat.

“Cool!” You beamed, completely oblivious to Gojo’s growing inner turmoil. “Let me know when we’re dissecting frogs, I guess.” Then you for up and ran to utahime for a moment when you see her aggressively waving you over.

Gojo groaned, flopping back in his seat like a man defeated.

Shoko wiped a tear from her eye, shaking her head. “This is actually painful to watch.”

“Not for me,” Geto mused, barely containing his smirk as he leaned back.

Gojo turned his head just enough to glare at him. “You suck.”

“Aw, Satoru,” Geto drawled, resting his chin in his palm. “Don’t be such a sore loser.”

“Losing implies I’ve lost,” Gojo shot back, sitting up with renewed determination. “And I never lose.”

Geto merely raised an eyebrow. “Sure,” he said smoothly, sipping his drink again. But inside, he was still thinking about the way you had laughed at his words. The way you had turned to him so easily, bright eyed and happy.

And just like that, what was supposed to be a harmless bet felt like something else entirely. Something he wasn’t willing to lose.

—

After lunch wrapped up, Gojo had been dragged away by some underclassmen pestering him for help though, judging by his exaggerated groan of suffering, you’d think they were sentencing him to life in prison. Shoko had peeled off shortly after, muttering something about a nap and waving lazily over her shoulder.

That left you and Geto.

The two of you walked side by side through the courtyard, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. It was warm but not unpleasant, with a soft breeze rustling through the trees. Birds chirped somewhere in the distance.

“So,” Geto said, hands slipping casually into his pockets. “Lab partners, huh?”

You grinned, glancing up at him. “What? You don’t think me and Gojo have great chemistry?”

Geto hummed, pretending to consider it. “More like chaotic combustion.”

You laughed, nudging his arm playfully. “Okay, thats just basic math when you out us I’m a room together”

The sound of your laughter settled into Geto’s chest, warm and lingering. He’d always liked that about you how easy it was for you to find amusement in things, how naturally lighthearted you could be. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed your company so much.

He wasn’t even sure when it had started this noticing of yours. The way you smiled when you were really, genuinely happy. The way your hands moved when you talked excitedly. The way your eyes lit up when you were being playful, like they had during lunch when you had turned to him.

Yeah. He was noticing a lot more than he used to.

“You were really enjoying yourself back there,” you mused, shooting him a knowing look.

Geto smirked. “Can you blame me? Watching Gojo crash and burn is one of life’s simplest pleasures.”

You laughed again, and he found himself watching you a little too closely.

It had started as a joke. Just a bet. A way to mess with Gojo and watch him struggle for once.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted.

Maybe it was because you always seemed to get along with him so easily, without all the dramatics and fanfare that followed Gojo everywhere. Maybe it was because teasing you came as naturally as breathing, and you always played along. Maybe it was because, when you looked at him, it never felt like he was standing in Gojo’s shadow.

Because Geto had spent years watching people flock to Gojo first. It wasn’t something he resented, not really it was just the way things were. Gojo was loud, larger than life, the sun in the center of everyone’s orbit.

But now, as you walked beside him, smiling and laughing and completely unaware of the thoughts creeping into his head he wondered what it would be like if, just this once, he wasn’t second.

If you chose him.

“Alright, then,” you said suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts. “If Gojo and I are chaotic combustion, what kind of chemistry do we have?”

You grinned up at him, eyes bright with curiosity. Playful. Innocent. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. But for the first time all afternoon, Geto felt just the slightest bit off balance. Because for all his usual confidence, for all his careful, patient planning, he hadn’t been expecting that.

His smirk lingered, but this time, it took a fraction of a second longer to form.

“Hmm,” he mused, tilting his head in thought. “I’d say… slow burn.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, is that a real chemistry thing or—”

“Who knows?” Geto said smoothly, flashing you a teasing smile before stepping ahead. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out.”

You gaped at him. “Oh, now you’re being mysterious?”

He only laughed, glancing back over his shoulder. “What can I say? Gotta keep things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes but grinned as you jogged to catch up with him and Geto, for all his patience, was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wanted to win this more than he thought.

The neon lights of Tokyo buzzed overhead as the four of you wandered the crowded streets, blending into the after-school . It was that perfect in between time too early for the late-night crowd, but just late enough that everything felt a little more exciting.

And, as usual, Gojo was causing problems.

“You dragged us out here,” you sighed, watching Gojo pat down his pockets like he’d just realized he forgot something important. “How do you not know where we’re going?”

“I do know!” Gojo huffed, placing a hand over his heart like you’d mortally wounded him. “I’m just giving the night a sense of mystery.”

“You lost the directions, didn’t you?” Shoko deadpanned.

“Have some faith in me,” Gojo scoffed.

“I did,” Geto mused. “Then I watched you confidently lead us to a random 7-Eleven last time because you thought there was a ‘secret food market’ underground.”

Gojo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are none of you gonna let that go?”

“No,” you, Geto, and Shoko said in unison.

Gojo grumbled under his breath, but before he could keep digging his own grave, you gestured toward a bright, bustling arcade across the street.

“Let’s just go in there,” you suggested. Pointing towards the arcade near by “Since our fearless leader clearly has no actual plan.”

Gojo perked up. “Hey! I did have a plan—”

“Oh my god, shut up and walk,” Shoko sighed, already making her way inside.

—

The place was packed, rows of flashing game screens, the constant clinking of tokens, and the occasional victorious yell from someone landing a big win. It was the kind of that was just fun enough to be energizing rather than overwhelming.

Immediately, Gojo beelined for a claw machine. “I’m winning something for you,” he declared, pointing at you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume you’ll win.”

Gojo grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Bold of you to underestimate me.”

“Gojo, I watched you spend 3,000 yen last time trying to win a keychain,” Geto reminded him, his voice thoroughly unimpressed.

“Okay, but this time is different,” Gojo insisted. “This time, I have motivation.”

You snorted. “Sure you do.”

Shoko rolled her eyes and wandered off to find a rhythm game, and Geto turned to you, smirking. “Wanna bet on how many tries it takes before he gives up?”

You grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Thirty Minutes Later…

Gojo was slumped against the claw machine, forehead pressed against the glass, as the plush he had almost grabbed slipped back into the pile for what had to be the twentieth time.

“…This thing is rigged,” he muttered.

Geto, sipping his drink, hummed. “Mmm. Sure.”

You held out a hand toward him. “Pay up.”

Geto sighed but placed a few coins into your palm. “I should’ve known better.”

Shoko strolled back over, glancing at Gojo’s miserable form. “Wow. Are we gonna have to carry you out of here?”

Gojo groaned dramatically. “Leave me. I belong to the void now.”

You rolled your eyes before stepping up to the machine, slipping in a coin. “Here,” you said, gripping the controls. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Gojo peeled himself off the glass just enough to watch, skeptical. “If you win this on your first try, I’m actually gonna lose my mind.”

You maneuvered the claw, timed the drop perfectly, and…….Bam!

“Your mind better be severally lost when I turn around” you smirk while holding it out to the three of them. Then talking a look at the white haired guy.

“Here, since you worked so hard for it”

Gojo blinked. Then he stared at you. “…You’re giving it to me?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. You worked hard for it.”

Gojo expected you to rub it in, to make some smug comment about how much better you were, but you didn’t. You just… gave it to him. No teasing, no conditions. Just an easy, casual, Here, this is yours.

Something in his chest actually ached.

He took the plush from your hands, staring down at it like it was something important.

“…Wow,” he muttered, voice a little quieter than usual. “So this is what kindness feels like.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“No, no, this is a life changing moment,” Gojo insisted, holding the plush to his chest. “I feel so appreciated right now.”

Geto smirked. “You’re gonna sleep with that thing, aren’t you?”

Gojo scoffed. “Of course not.” He absolutely was.

Shoko yawned. “Can we go now, or do you need a moment to emotionally bond with the plush?”

Gojo pouted. “Let me have this.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “C’mon, Gojo.”

As the four of you made your way back outside, Gojo fell into step beside you, still clutching the plush. He glanced at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Maybe he had completely embarrassed himself tonight, but… This was definitely the best prize he’d ever won.

—

The four of you ended up at a cozy little ramen shop tucked into a side street, the kind of place with handwritten menus, warm lighting, and the rich smell of broth and grilled meats filling the air. It was nothing fancy, but it was good, one of Geto’s usual spots, which meant it was guaranteed to be great.

The ramen shop was cozy, the kind of place that felt like a well kept secret. The handwritten menus, the warm yellow glow from the hanging lanterns, the smell of rich broth and grilled skewers, it all made for a welcoming atmosphere. A place you could linger, talk, enjoy good food without pretense.

Gojo was still holding the small, plush keychain you’d won for him at the arcade earlier, absentmindedly squeezing it between his fingers as you all slid into a booth. He had insisted he didn’t need it, but you had seen the way his face lit up when you handed it to him, how he twirled it in his hands the entire walk over. He hadn’t let go of it since.

Shoko and Gojo immediately launched into a heated debate over toppings, something about whether bamboo shoots were a necessary addition or a waste of space.

You and Geto exchanged a glance. Unspoken solidarity.

“You wanna share something?” Geto’s voice was casual, smooth, as he leaned an elbow against the table, turning his full attention to you.

You blinked. “Uh"…

Gojo, mid argument with Shoko, snapped his head around so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

“What?”

Geto hummed, reaching for the menu, eyes glinting with amusement. “I was just saying we could split something.” His gaze flicked back to you, warm and steady. “Figured you’d get tired of Gojo stealing food off your plate.”

You scoffed, tilting your head in mock consideration. “That’s… actually a really good point.”

Gojo gasped, pointing an accusatory chopstick at Geto. “I do not steal—”

Shoko snorted. “You ate half my gyoza last week.”

Gojo immediately turned to her, defensive. “You weren’t gonna finish them!”

“You didn’t ask.”

Geto chuckled, nudging the menu toward you. “So? What looks good?”

You skimmed the options, feeling the weight of Geto’s gaze. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing, just waiting, watching, letting you make the decision. It was subtle, but it felt different from his usual teasing. More intentional.

Meanwhile, across the table, Gojo had gone suspiciously quiet.

He kept fidgeting with the plush you won him, his fingers idly squeezing its soft fabric. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal, so what if Geto was pulling out his smooth operator act? That’s just how he was. And it wasn’t like Gojo cared. Except… he kind of did.When the food finally arrived, the table filled with steaming bowls of ramen, plates of dumplings, and skewers of grilled meat. Gojo had ordered the biggest portion possible…partly out of habit, partly as some unspoken form of protest.

Geto slid the bowl of spicy miso ramen between the two of you. “You want the first bite?”

You shrugged. “I don’t mind—”

Before you could finish, Geto picked up a spoon, scooped up a bit of broth, and lifted it toward you

.

“Here. Try it.”

You blinked. Gojo blinked. Shoko, sipping her drink, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“…Are you feeding me?” you asked, both amused and caught off guard.

Geto smirked. “Only if you want me to.”

Gojo’s chopsticks snapped in half.

You chuckled, shaking your head before taking the spoon from Geto yourself. “I can handle it, thanks.”

Geto leaned back, looking very pleased with himself. “Fair enough.”

Gojo, meanwhile, was gripping what was left of his broken chopsticks, staring down at his ramen like he was contemplating the meaning of life.

Shoko nudged him with her elbow. “You good?”

Gojo didn’t look up. “I’m fine.”

Shoko smirked. “Uh-huh.”

Gojo kept stirring his ramen. He wasn’t going to say anything because what was there to say? Geto wasn’t doing anything technically wrong. It was just his usual, effortless charm. The same charm that made people naturally gravitate toward him. But tonight, for some reason, it was getting under Gojo’s skin. He knew Geto knew how he played things, knew how easy it was for him to slip into that role. And Gojo had always been fine with that. They were best friends, partners in crime. But now? Now, watching Geto lean just a little closer, watching you smile and laugh without hesitation Gojo felt something simmering in his chest. A feeling he didn’t quite want to name.

Shoko nudged him again. “You sure? Because you’re either planning murder or having an existential crisis over there.”

Gojo exhaled, flopping dramatically against the booth. “I’m just thinking.”

Shoko’s smirk widened. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

Gojo scowled. “Nothing.”

She didn’t press, but she didn’t have to. They both knew exactly what he was thinking.

Across the table, you and Geto were still chatting, sharing your ramen without a second thought.

Gojo finally dropped his chopsticks with a dramatic sigh, flopping back against the booth. “Okay, enough about feeding each other. We get it. You guys have basic teamwork skills.”

Geto, completely unfazed, turned to him with a lazy grin. “You jealous, Satoru?”

Shoko bit back a laugh.

Gojo rolled his eyes. “Me? Jealous? Of you?” He let out a loud, exaggerated laugh before immediately turning to you. “Hey. You wanna try my ramen?”

You gave him a flat look. “Gojo, you got the most boring option on the menu.”

Gojo gasped. “Excuse me? Classic shoyu ramen is a timeless masterpiece.”

Geto chuckled, watching the exchange with amusement. “Yeah, nothing says excitement like a safe choice.”

Gojo pointed a dramatic finger at him. “I don’t need your judgment, Suguru.”

“Not jealous,” he muttered. “Just… not that hungry anymore.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

You, however, nudged his arm lightly. “Gojo, you literally ordered the biggest bowl on the menu.”

He glanced at you, blue eyes flickering with something unreadable for a second before he shrugged. “Guess my appetite’s smaller than I thought.”

Lies.

Gojo always ate like he had a bottomless pit for a stomach. But tonight, the food tasted a little bland.

Geto leaned back in his seat, watching him carefully. He didn’t say anything, but the way his fingers tapped lightly against the table made it clear he noticed the shift.

For the rest of the meal, Gojo stayed a little quieter than usual, only half-listening as you and Geto talked. He didn’t make a fuss. Didn’t push the usual playful banter. But every now and then, his gaze would flicker toward Geto, then back to you. And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, He was already too late.

Geto just smiled, relaxed and confident as ever. He didn’t need to gloat, Gojo was already riled up enough for the both of them.

Across the table, Shoko stretched her arms over her head, looking just about done with the two of them. “Alright, children. Eat your food before the shop kicks us out.”

Gojo grumbled under his breath before finally taking an actual bite of his ramen. But as he chewed, he glanced at Geto, then at you, and then back at Geto. He didn’t say anything. But in the back of his mind, he was already planning his next move.

——

The streets were quieter now, the distant hum of the city fading as the four of you made your way back to Jujutsu High. The crisp night air nipped at your skin, but the warmth of the ramen shop still clung to you, the scent of broth and grilled meat lingering in your clothes.

It should have been a perfect night. A rare one, even. Just the four of you, no missions, no training, no looming sense of responsibility. But despite the easy conversation and the comfortable rhythm of your walk, something felt… off. Or maybe different was the better word.

You weren’t sure when you started noticing it. Maybe it was back at the ramen shop, or maybe even earlier at the arcade, but the feeling had been creeping up on you all night, just subtle enough to ignore, until now.

Geto had always been smooth. Confident in a way that never felt overdone, just natural. He had a way of making things seem effortless, like he wasn’t even trying. But tonight, there was something pointed about it. The way he leaned in just a little closer, the way he found reasons to keep the conversation between just the two of you, the way his gaze lingered a second too long.

And then there was Gojo. Normally, he’d be the loudest one here, cracking jokes, making everything a competition, dragging all the attention toward himself like it was second nature. But tonight?

Tonight, he’d been different too.

Quieter. A little distant. He still teased, still complained, but there was something off about it. Like his heart wasn’t really in it.

You stole a glance back at him. He was trailing just a step behind, hands buried deep in his pockets, his usual long strides feeling slower, heavier. His shoulders were set, his jaw tight—like he was thinking too hard about something he didn’t want to say. It made something in your chest twist.

“Cold?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. Geto’s voice was low, even, pulling you back to the present.

“Huh?”

“It’s chilly,” he said, already shrugging off his jacket. “Here.”

“Oh, I’m fine—”

“Just take it.” His tone left little room for argument as he draped the jacket over your shoulders before you could protest, his fingers grazing lightly against your collarbone. Your breath hitched. Geto was always like this, thoughtful in a way that felt effortless, like he didn’t even have to think about it you try to rationalize to yourself.

“…Thanks,” you murmured, fingers instinctively curling around the fabric.

He smiled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kept walking beside you. His pace was steady, close but not too close, just enough that your arms brushed every now and then—not quite accidental, but not completely intentional either.

It was the kind of thing you probably wouldn’t have thought twice about—if it weren’t for the way Gojo had gone completely silent behind you.

You glanced back again.

Gojo’s expression was unreadable, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was still fidgeting with the plush keychain you’d won for him earlier, rolling it between his fingers, his grip just a little too tight. Something about the sight made your stomach sink.

“Shortcut?”

Shoko’s voice broke the tension, casual and lazy as she stretched her arms over her head.

Gojo barely hesitated. “Yeah, same.” His voice was flat.

You blinked. “Shortcut?”

Shoko gestured to a narrow side path. “Cuts the walk down. Bit of an uphill climb, but faster.”

“But it sucks,” Geto pointed out, unimpressed. “Too steep.”

She shrugged. “Worth it.” Then she turned to you and Geto, smirking. “Guess you two are taking the scenic route, huh?”

Your face immediately went warm. “That’s not—”

“Later,” she cut you off with a lazy wave, already tugging Gojo along.

You barely caught a glimpse of his face before he turned away. But for a second. Just a second. his eyes flickered toward you, something unreadable behind them. Like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t.

Instead, he let himself be pulled along, following Shoko without another word. Just the Two of You. The silence left in their absence felt heavier than it should have.

“Guess it’s just us,” Geto said lightly, casting a glance at you.

You huffed, still flustered. “Shoko says stuff just to mess with people, you know.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah. But… she’s usually not wrong.”

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

“What?” you blurted out, a little too quick.

Geto didn’t answer right away. He just smiled to himself, looking ahead like he knew something you didn’t. Your thoughts tangled together, a mess of contradictions. Gojo had been off tonight. And Geto was acting just different enough that you couldn’t ignore it.

It made something in your chest tighten. They were your friends. You weren’t supposed to overthink things like this. But something was changing. And you didn’t know how to feel about it.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps filled the silence between you. The campus was still a ways off, the path stretching ahead of you under the glow of streetlights. “…Did you have fun tonight?” Geto’s voice was softer now, lacking his usual teasing edge.

You hesitated. “…Yeah. Did you?”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “More than I expected to.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your pulse jump.

You looked away, focusing on the ground ahead of you. “…You want this back?” you asked, shifting under the weight of his jacket.

He shook his head easily. “Nah. Looks better on you.”

Your face felt warm despite the cool air.

“So,” Geto broke the quiet, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “You really gonna make me carry this whole conversation by myself?”

You shot him a look. “You’re the one who insists on talking all the time.”

He grinned. “Well, yeah. Someone’s gotta keep things interesting.”

You scoffed. “Oh, right. Because I’m just so boring.”

“Didn’t say that.” His tone was teasing, but his gaze flickered over to you with something unreadable. “Just quiet.”

You huffed. “I can be fun.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow, intrigued. “Prove it.”

You squinted at him. “What, you want me to juggle or something?”

“That’d be a start.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. Uh… okay, did I ever tell you about the time I completely humiliated myself in front of Mei Mei?”

His eyes lit up. “No, but I already know this is gonna be good.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “It was awful. I was helping her carry some stuff, right? Trying to be useful. But I tripped on absolutely nothing, flailed like a total idiot, and somehow managed to launch her entire stack of training manuals across the courtyard.”

Geto let out a loud laugh. “No way.”

“Oh, it gets worse. Instead of, I don’t know, getting up with some dignity, I just laid there for a second. Mei Mei didn’t even say anything, she just stared at me like she was trying to figure out if I was a lost cause.”

“That sounds like her.”

“I still don’t know if she was more disappointed or just impressed by how thoroughly I managed to embarrass myself.”

Geto was still grinning. “That’s beautiful. I wish I’d been there.”

“See? I am fun,” you said triumphantly.

He hummed, tilting his head in consideration. “I don’t know. That sounds less like ‘fun’ and more like ‘chronic bad luck.’”

You smacked his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

He just laughed, rubbing the spot like you’d actually hurt him. “Okay, okay. You win. You’re fun.”

“Damn right I am.”

You were both smiling now, the warmth of the moment making the chilly night air feel insignificant.

“…You should laugh more,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter.

You blinked at him. “Huh?”

He shrugged, looking ahead. “Just saying. It suits you.”

Your stomach flipped again, but this time, you didn’t push the feeling away.

Instead, you just shook your head with a soft chuckle. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

“Not a chance.” He flashed you a grin, his steps falling just a little closer to yours.

The rest of the walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Just charged in a way you weren’t used to.

By the time you reached the school gates, your thoughts were a mess.

The weight of Geto’s jacket still lingered on your shoulders.

somewhere in the back of your mind, Gojo’s silence stuck with you in a way you didn’t quite understand.Something was changing and you had no idea what to do about it.

The school grounds were quiet at this hour, the faint hum of the cicadas in the trees the only sound filling the night air. Most of the students had long since gone to sleep, the dorms dark and still, but you and Geto lingered by the entrance, neither of you quite ready to part ways just yet.

You shifted the jacket draped over your shoulders, acutely aware of its warmth, of the faint scent of Geto’s cologne still clinging to the fabric.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Geto’s voice broke the silence, amused.

You blinked, glancing at him. “Huh?”

He smirked. “You get this little crease in your brow when you’re overthinking something.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “I do not.”

“You do,” he insisted, tapping a finger to your forehead in demonstration. “Right here. Deep in thought. Probably overanalyzing everything that happened tonight.”

Your stomach flipped.

You were overthinking it. Overthinking him. Overthinking Gojo, and the weird tension that had lingered between the three of you all night. Geto must have noticed the way your expression shifted, because his smirk softened.

“…You good?” he asked, quieter now.

You hesitated.

You could play it off, pretend everything was fine. But part of you, maybe the part still rattled by the way tonight felt different, didn’t want to.

“…Do you think Gojo’s mad at me?” The words slipped out before you could second guess

them. Geto’s expression didn’t change, but you noticed the way his fingers twitched at his sides.

“No,” he said simply.

You frowned. “Then why was he acting so weird?”

Geto exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You’ll have to ask him that yourself.”

You huffed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give you,” Geto said, looking at you now, gaze steady. “Whatever’s going on with Gojo, it’s not my place to say.”

That definitely meant something.

You stared at him, searching for some kind of hint, but Geto just smiled, unreadable as ever.

Before you could press further, a voice cut through the quiet.

“You guys are still out here?”

You turned, and there he was Gojo, standing a few feet away, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his uniform. He must have circled back at some point, because Shoko was nowhere to be seen.

For a split second, his gaze flickered to the jacket on your shoulders. His fingers tightened around the plush keychain in his hand.

“…You took a while ?” he asked, voice light, but there was something off about it.

You swallowed. “Uh. No. We just walked and talked.”

Gojo nodded, like that answer was expected, but the sharp edge in his expression didn’t ease.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” you said, attempting to ignore the strange tension between the three of you.

Gojo just shrugged, rocking back on his heels. “Yeah, well. I was gonna be real mad if you got kidnapped before I had the chance to make fun of you tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes. “Touching.”

But there was something about the way he said it that made your chest feel tight.

The three of you stood there for a moment, the silence thick between you and then Geto, ever the smooth one, clapped his hands together. “Well. It’s late,” he said easily. “We should probably get inside before Yaga yells at us.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Gojo said nothing. Geto turned toward the dorms, his stride unhurried. But just before he walked past Gojo, he slowed just enough to murmur something under his breath.

You didn’t catch it. But whatever it was made Gojo’s jaw tighten. You hesitated, glancing between the two of them. You could feel whatever was happening here, unspoken and heavy, and it made something in you twist.

“…Night,” you said finally, the weight of the day settling over you.

Geto smiled, easy and warm. “Night.”

Gojo just nodded, but his usual smirk was nowhere to be found. You weren’t sure what to make of that. As you finally turned to head inside, the weight of Geto’s jacket still on your shoulders, you had the distinct feeling that tonight had changed something.

And you weren’t sure if things would ever be the same.

.

.

Geto: I like your laugh😽

You: Chat is this rizz !?!

Geto: you just ruined it

Geto: we were having a moment

You: Chat am I cooked?

Geto: WHO ARE YOU TALKING TOO RIGHT NOW

You: chat clip that

.

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

.

Gojo: can i try rizzing you up

You: sure

Gojo : PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

.

Taglist: @inthedarkshadows000

Reply to the masterlist if you want to be added to the taglist!!!!!

[littletrashpile]

Can I just say I’m really proud of myself for being totally honest even though it hurts. My throat hurts a lot, but I feel very… free. I’m finding relief in this honesty, this full expression of myself in a place that’s all my own. I’m not, what’s it called, censoring myself and limiting my words, wants, and wemotions. Hehe I made myself laugh.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hard Launching ∘°∘♡∘°∘

Summary: lando and y/n wanted to hard launch their relationship after dating secretly for a while. lando finds the perfect way to do so.

☘ ln x reader ✧˖*°࿐

☘ fluff + humour ✧˖*°࿐

masterlist ☾☼

lando and y/n had been discussing for a while about hard launching their relationship. they had managed to keep it out of the media for an entire season, but the media liked to paint lando as a villain, in more ways than one. not only were they attacking his skills on track, they began collecting pictures of lando with women, no matter how many years ago, and publishing them with articles about him being a womanizer.

the funniest ones were the pictures of lando and her sister out on some bonding time. reading those articles always made y/n laughed, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t have them bookmarked in her browser for a pick me up when she was having a bad day.

at first, they had thought of doing a simple post with a cheesy caption. enough to let the fans knows that he was off the market again. but, it also felt kind of boring, and that was not lando or y/n’s style.

they discussed it for weeks, looking at different social media websites for inspiration, until it struck lando. scrolling through instagram, he’d found the perfect way to hard launch his relationship with his girlfriend.

when y/n asked him, he said, “you’ll just have to wait like the rest of the world, my love. but, i know you’re going to love it.”

y/n waited, just like he had told her to. she waited for two months, until one day, in the middle of her work, she received the instagram notification of lando posting and tagging her. this was the moment, y/n thought.

opening instagram, she found a reel, instead of a post or a story like she assumed. quickly, wearing her airpods, y/n clicked on the reel, increasing the volume in the background.

the reel opened with someone recording lando as he walked, head down and concentrated. the person recording said, “excuse me, what are you listening to right now?”

lando took out one of his airpods, and said, “my girlfriend yapping,” and then walked away.

the reel immediately cut to different instances of y/n talking and lando patiently listening. they were all sped up videos, and y/n watched her animated hands as she ranted, and lando listening, changing his position every so often. the music in the background was a lively, jaunty sound, and it fit so well with the reel.

there were a series of videos, from their home, from the paddock, from conference rooms where they were waiting for zak, or even from the gym where lando worked out, and y/n basically followed him, still talking his ear off. there were multiple videos of them on facetime as well, or screenshots of their hour - hour and half long conversations.

y/n laughed. it truly was the perfect way for lando to hard launch their relationship. it described them perfectly, if she did say so herself.

scrolling through the comments, she saw a lot of fans crying that he was a taken man now. she saw some saying things like, “this is the realest representation of a relationship.” there were some hate comments too, but they were stupid, so she ignored them.

she commented on the post as well, typing, “wait till i send you a 20 minute voice note on my lunch break” to which lando immediately responded with, “can’t wait, i got my airpods and my phone fully charged”

y/n laughed again, opening her text messaging app, and sending a quick “i love you this was perfect” to her boyfriend.

·̩̩̥͙＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥͙

hi! i hope you guys enjoyed this! it came to me while i was driving to college! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Theodore Nott talking dirty in Italian to fem reader who doesn’t know Italian but finds it super hot, with a smutty ending?

Yes! I love this idea. I think he'd love it a lot if you didn't speak Italian, just so he could tease you more. Also, I used google translate, so idk how accurate it is, but hopefully it works.

Dirty Talking

Theodore Nott x F!Reader

Warnings: Oral(Male receiving), cussing, unprotected sex, creampie.

18+ Minors DNI!

You always loved when your boyfriend would talk in Italian. Something about the way it sounded and rolled off of his tongue just did something to you. He could be saying anything in Italian and you’d want him to just take you right there as he kept talking.

And Theo noticed. He wasn’t stupid. He saw the way you would blush ever so slightly and press your thighs together. He just never said anything because he liked watching your reactions and he knew you’d try to stop your reactions if he mentioned them.

But when he was arguing with Draco about the quidditch practice as you all were heading back up to the castle, he slipped into Italian as he cursed him out. You suddenly got flustered and blushed. Theo noticed this, forgetting about the argument with Draco as he waved him off, dragging you away into a broom closet. He was frustrated and needed a release and he could tell you were turned on.

“Theo, what are you doing?” You asked as he closed the door behind you two.

“Ti scoperò.” He said into your ear as he pushed you against the wall, pressing kisses down your neck.

“Wait, what?” You asked, your brain trying to catch up with his actions as he spoke Italian.

“Ti scoperò. Sii buono con me.” He said before kissing you. It was rough, a hand in your hair and another on your waist. He pulled back and pushed you onto your knees, undoing his pants. “Così bello.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” You said, but you could feel how wet you were becoming.

“You love it, though, don’t you, cara mia.” He smiled down at you as he pulled out his cock. “Aprire.” He said as he tapped his tip on your lips as he grabbed your hair.

You had no idea what he was saying, but you opened your mouth and he pushed your head down his cock until you gagged. He let out such a hot moan before guiding your head up and down his cock, tears building in your eyes as you held onto his thighs.

“Così dannatamente sporco. Look at what you do to me, principessa.” He moaned. “Mi prendi così bene.”

God, his fucking deep voice with those words. You didn’t even care what he was saying, it just sounded so good, so filthy to you.

“Merda. You’re so fucking good to me.” He said before pulling out of your mouth and up off the floor. He pushed down your panties before turning you around to press your front against the wall. “You’re so fucking wet from me talking in Italian, huh?” He slipped his fingers through your folds, feeling how soaked you were.

“Yes, fuck! Yes, it’s so good.” You moaned.

“Così sporco.” He said before removing his fingers and teasing your folds with his cock. “You want me to fill you up, mi amore?”

“Yes, please!”

“Who knew a little Italian would get you all slutty for my cock.” He teased before thrusting into you. He covered your mouth before you could make a sound. “Stai zitto. You want everyone to hear?”

He started thrusting, using his free hand to wrap around your front, holding you closer to him. You were moaning and crying out into his hand, your hands holding onto the wall for support.

“Così buono. You’re taking me so well.” He said quietly in your ear before kissing your neck. His chest was pressed against your back, trapping you against the wall as he kept fucking into you. “Do you wanna cum, principessa?”

You nodded against his hand, moans only getting louder as he angled his hips slightly to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“Sei così avido. Sei così sporco. Lo adoro.” He said, moving his hand that’s wrapped around you to play with your clit. The combination of his dick inside you, him playing with your clit, and the Italian were enough to have you cumming in mere moments, trembling and crying out into his hand. “Brava ragazza. Good fucking girl.” He praised, helping you ride out your orgasm. “You gonna be a good girl and let me cum in you?” He asked as his thrusts sped up, chasing his own orgasm. You nodded against his hand again, whining and whimpering as he overstimulated you. He cussed as he came, slipped between English and Italian as he moaned in your ear, filling your pussy with his cum. He removed his hand from your mouth and pulled out, slipping your panties back up with a smile as he kissed your cheek. “Guess I found another weakness, huh, cara mia?” He teased.

[p1astr81]

stay done -cl16

in which: You just can’t walk away from Charles, no matter what he does.

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of potential cheating, google translated French, Charles is a complete dick, reader is stupid as hell, mentions of vomit, not proofread I fear, lmk if there’s any more!

based on “stay done” by tate mcrae

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The both of you sat on opposite ends of the sofa, and somehow the topic of Lewis joining the team next year came up. Stupidly, you commented, “yeah, it’s going to be incredible if you beat him.” Of course, it wasn’t a dig at your boyfriends abilities, but rather a recognition of the past achievements of the 7 time world champion.

Charles looked to you with furrowed brows. He assessed your expression before scoffing. He stood abruptly, moving with haste. “Charles, I didn’t mean it like that.” You chased after him down the hallway of his Monaco apartment. “I’m sorry,” you tried again after you received no response or acknowledgment from the man. “Fuck off.” He muttered, stepping into your shared bedroom and slamming the door in your face. You tried to twist the handle.

Locked.

“Babe, come on.” Your fist softly collided with the door once. “You’re an incredible driver, I just meant with his achievements and whatnot…” you trailed off, realizing your words weren’t making the situation much better.

Hate that I’m always gonna have a side to me / That’s still in awe when you’re mad at me / You can’t do it wrong in my eyes

“It was a stupid thing to say. I take it back, I’m sorry.” The only thing your apology granted was the sound of broken glass from somewhere inside the room. You took a shaky breath, and hesitantly tapped your knuckles against the wooden barrier. “Charlie? You okay?” You called out hesitantly.

The door was thrown open seconds later. Charles’s green eyes were a few shades darker as he glared down at you. His gaze pierced through you, and somehow caused the rise and fall of your chest to cease. “Fine.” He grumbled, stepping by you. He was sure bump your shoulder with such force it turned you a full ninety degrees. You watched as he plucked his keys from the counter. “Where are you-“ he shut the front door, abruptly cutting off the rest of your inquiry.

Your attention turned to the sound of shattered glass from earlier, and you took a cautious step into the room to investigate it’s source. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw the picture frame. On the floor. Upside-down. Surrounded in glass.

You were cautious of the scattered glass, stepping on your tip-toes to avoid it. You retrieved the frame by its stand. Once it was in your grasp, you stepped away from the glass. The picture was a favorite among the both of you. Taken by joris at the amusement park, after Charles just succeeded in winning you a giant plush. You had your arms stretched above your head, your lips spread into an open smile, probably cheering loudly at the time it was taken. The picture caught Charles as he was dipping down to grab you around your hips and hoist you into a close hug. He was a little blurry, but the love in his eyes was clear as day.

A tear ran down your face. You made no attempt to wipe it away. More followed as your feet carried you to the living room. You gently placed what was left of the frame on the coffee table, and sat on the sofa in front of it.

I hate it that you gotta break something / To realize we’re at rock bottom

Four days passed. You both agreed to forget the past incident, and he replaced the picture frame.

You were in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the both of you. You’d plated it up nicely, and placed the two dishes on the table at your respective spots. “Now, Leo, stay away from the table.” You redirected the cute little dog to the living room. He never jumped on the table to steal food, but he was a troublemaker in many other ways, which always had you worried.

You descended down the hallway to the room dedicated to his sim, and knocked on the door lightly before entering. “Foods done,” you inform him, your voice light with hope, but cautious. “Just bring it here.” He instructed, his eyes on the screen. You let out a small sigh as the bit of hope you held onto fizzled into nothingness. “Charlie, it’s been a week since you last came to eat with me.” You said, your voice small as you felt pathetic begging your boyfriend to just eat with you.

“What do you want from me?” He fired back, spinning around to face you. His eyes were narrowed, daring you to give a snappy reply back. “Just twenty minutes.” Your voice was hardly a whisper, broken as you bargained for an ounce of his attention. He sighed—though the sound was more of a huff—and gestured to the monitor stating, “I’m working. Isn’t that what you want? So you can leech off of my money some more?”

That one hit hard. While you owned the day care down the street, you didn’t make nearly as much as Charles did. You swallowed the lump in your throat, fighting back the pricking sting of tears. “I’ll be back with your plate.”

But kill me again cause the high’s twice as high / Wish this bullshit would end, but we’re back here again

Charles was away for another race, in Vegas this time around. “Baby, I saw this one dress and I thought you would like it so I took a picture,” he quipped over your FaceTime call, a text from him sending soon after. It was a really cute dress, but you could just make out the price tag. $5,000. “You know me well, cause that is a really cute dress.” You laughed. Charles smiled. “Ah, perfect. I’ll buy it tomorrow before the sessions.”

Your stomach twisted, your head reeling with his words from a couple of weeks ago, ‘So you can leech off of my money some more’. Since that night, you’d purchased everything yourself, turning down his offers or blocking him so he couldn’t swipe his own card. You turned down every transaction from his account. You had to adjust a little, as buying whatever you pleased was no longer an option with your new budget.

You shook your head quickly. “No, that’s alright I think I have plenty of dresses.” You turned down the offer as politely as you could without raising any red flags. Charles’s expression twisted, his brows pinching together and creasing the space between them. “What is it with you lately? You’ve been acting like my wallet has a disease.” You gave a forced laugh at his joke. “Nothing, just… independence is nice, I suppose.” You tried to reassure him with a smile. He gave you a skeptical look, piecing the puzzle together all on his own. “is this about what a said the other week?” You didn’t answer, your gaze drifting to a far-off place. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean that.” His voice was soft, an apology lying just beneath his words that never surfaced.

“No, yeah.” You agreed quietly, a small nod of your head confirming it double. “Charlie it’s getting pretty late here, I think I’m going to head to bed.”

“Oh, chérie. Why didn’t you say something earlier. It’s like—what is it,” he calculated the time difference in his head quickly, “two in the morning there.” He gave you a look of pity, or maybe it’s guilt. “I just miss you, is all.” You smiled softly. “Wish you were still here with me.”

Charles chuckled lowly. “I miss you, too. But I’ll see you next week in Brazil, yeah?” You nodded to confirm, though he already knew. “Can’t wait. Goodnight bébé.”

Yeah, I know we should break up / But I just can’t stay done with you / When I take off my makeup / Go to bed wanna wake up with you

You were meant to be flying into Brazil tomorrow, but a picture surfaced after Las Vegas that had you cancelling your flight.

You send a screenshot of the photo to Charles, demanding, “what is this?” he won in Vegas, and evidently celebrated in the infamous ‘sin city’. The picture taken during that night caught him red handed. A pretty blonde girl sat on his lap, hardly covered by her mini, skin tight, dress.

The guys were trying to be funny by calling a few of the escorts over. Nothing serious.

Honestly, a part of you wanted to laugh at his response. “Nothing serious”??? Was he kidding?? Her ass was pressed up against his dick and he thinks it’s “nothing serious”???

Fuck you and your excuses, Leclerc. Don’t expect me to be in Brazil tomorrow, ‘cause I’m not showing up.

We're best friends and enemies / We're good 'til you're dead to me, yeah / I told you goodbye like / Hundred million times

His messages came poring in quickly.

Ma chérie, please. Im sorry.

Don’t take this so harsh, it was only a bit of fun.

I didn’t do anything with her

I give you my life on that promise.

Please don’t leave us like this.

The sheer audacity of this man had you stumbling over your own thoughts, but somehow the ones that translated through the keyboard were,

I’m not ending us. I just need a bit of space right now.

I know I sound so dumb / But I just can't stay done with you / I just can't stay done with you

A few days went by, and you went out with your friends to momentarily forget about Charles. You drank. A lot. And alcohol—being a depressant and all—did it’s job exactly. Your plan to use the liquid to forget about him backfired, as the end of the night left you on the bathroom floor of your friend’s flat, crying as you scrolled through old photos of the two of you.

So when he called, you couldn’t resist picking up this time, even though you’d ignored all his calls previous.

“I miss you so much,” you started, choking on your own sobs. “Charles, please.”

You were entirely unsure of what you were pleading for. Another apology? For his presence? There wasn’t a true answer.

“Oh, Chérie,” he cooed. “I’ll pick you up, yeah? Are you at your friends?” He was gentle with his words and his tone of voice, as if any other tone would inflict physical pain upon you. This was the Charles you fell in love with. The caring, gentle, loving one.

After receiving confirmation that you were in fact at your friend’s residence, he raced over to pick you up and comforted you as soon as you set a foot in his car.

“I’m so sorry. So, so, so sorry.” And with his arms wrapped so tightly around you, whispering sweetly in your ear, how could you not think his apology was sincere?

So you gave in, accepting his apology after days of stubborn silence. “I know.” You sobbed into his shoulder. The never ending tears soaked through his thick hoodie, causing it to plaster to his skin.

Two hands cradling your face, he pulled you away from his shoulder gently. Your hands clung to the ends of your hoodie as he pushed the stray hairs from your face. “I love you.” He placed a kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment before he pulled away. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

You nodded, leaning back into your seat. He was sure to keep a hand in yours the whole way there.

I hate it that I'm tryna call you up / When you're the thing that I'm running from / The one-way street I can't get off, oh yeah

You walked into the small pizza place across the street from Charles’s apartment building. A friend of a friend was very adamant about meeting you for lunch today, and when she offered to pay, who were you to say no?

Giving her a short greeting, you sat in the booth across from her. The atmosphere was awkward, but you chalked it up to not knowing her all that well.

Until halfway through your meal, she reluctantly slid her phone across the table to you. A very short conversation lit up the screen.

hey

hi?

wyd?

nothing rn

wanna come over?

can’t, I’ve got plans later.

At first, you were confused as to why she would show you the interaction, but then your eyes scanned over the name.

Charles Leclerc

“I met him at a club not to long ago.” She explained. “I had no idea he had a girlfriend until I did some digging and when I found out it was you… I’m really sorry.”

As if a small sorry would do anything to fix the tremendous ache in your heart.

“Have you…” you swallowed your fear. “done anything before? Hooked up?”You feared the answer, praying to whoever would listen that she spoke out a no.

“No. But he was really flirty when we met.” You couldn’t meet her eyes. The pity in them making you want to scream like a mad woman. “Send me a screenshot of that?” You requested, your voice strained from the effort of holding back your tears.

She nodded. “‘Course.”

“Thanks for lunch.” You muttered quickly, grabbing your stuff and nearly sprinting out of the place.

Charles tried to greet you as you stepped into the flat, but you shoved past him and locked yourself in the bathroom.

The door handle jiggled, but the lock did it’s job. Charles tapped his knuckles against the wooden door. “Chérie?” The nickname had an anger bubbling inside you. “Are you alright in there?” With your newly acquired information, you wondered how he could sound so genuinely concerned.

“Uh, just feeling sick.” You answered shakily. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You were feeling extremely sick to your stomach. Something nasty swirled from within and it had you leaned up against the wall with your legs drawn to your chest.

“I’ll get you some water.”

The bathroom tiles reverberated from a buzz of your phone. When you opened the message to see the screenshot, the lunch you just ingested crawled back up your throat and forced itself out of your body. The contents dumped into the toilet bowl.

A foreign body pressed closely toward yours, holding your hair from your face and rubbing your back.

How the hell did he get in? You asked yourself, then remembered the key he kept on top of the doorframe.

It didn’t matter, cause the feeling of him so close to you had you spilling everything your body could offer into the bowl.

“Go away,” you manage to mumble.

“What?”

“Go away.” You repeated more clearly, attempting to push him away but given you were head first in the toilet, it was a little challenging.

Charles laugh is laced with concern. “Why would I do that? I know this isn’t-“

“Because I saw the texts.” You lift your head, pushing away from him and taking up your spot against the wall once more. You wiped your face with a piece of bath tissue while he looked to you with furrowed brows, shaking his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. What texts?”

You threw your phone at him, screen displaying the conversation. “Those texts.”

You watched as he read through the conversation. Guilt manipulated each of his facial features and weighed heavy on his body, forcing him to his bottom and his back up against the bathroom vanity for support. His position mirrored yours. Back straight and knees bent to meet your chest.

Sat across from you, his forehead fell to rest on his patellas. “I’m sorry, bébé.” He muttered.

You sniffled, whipping your nose with the back of your hand. “Coming from you, those words don’t mean much anymore.” You mumbled, playing with you hands in your lap.

He exhaled a sigh from deep in his chest. His eyes found your figure, a pained look painting his expression. “I know. I know.” He shook his head. Desperation filled him, a burning desire to reach out to you but he held himself back. “I have no excuse this time.” He carefully placed your phone on the tiled floor beside you.

You said nothing, your eyes still on your hands as you twisted your fingers between each other. Ideas of how to respond and repercussions swam around in your mind. You considered breaking it off with him and leaving for good. But at the end of the day this was your Charles and it was nothing more than a text. A text sent when you asked him for space. Perhaps he thought you were on a break.

So, you being you, you cut him some slack. “I think I’ll be sleeping in the guest bedroom tonight.” Your voice wasn’t much louder than a whisper, and you still couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.

Charles felt a little lighter at your words. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t breaking up with him. Hell, you’d still be under the same roof, just a few meters from Charles. He smiled softly. “Okay.” He nodded.

I've been nothing less than cordial / But if we're really talking morals / Why'd you have to hit her up like that? / You should know it isn't normal

A generous amount of make-up remover soaked the cloth in your hand. Gentle swipes took off the top layer of your makeup, coating the light colored cloth in an ugly shade of brown. The cleansing balm took off whatever the makeup remover failed to, and you washed your face to be sure it was all off.

Charles had avoided the bathroom, but when you came out, he couldn’t resist giving you a small, “goodnight.” He received no response from you, but did not blame you for ignoring him.

You slipped into the guest bed, the mattress was hardly used and therefore not as broken in as yours and Charles’s.

You tossed and turned for an hour. Your brain couldn’t shut off. It constantly found a new thing to complain about every five minutes. The bed is too stiff, or it’s too cold in here, and then when you got another blanket, now it’s too hot.

But the most notable complaint, I miss Charles.

You whispered out a curse to the empty room, trying your hardest to push that thought far away from your brain. But it was persistent. It was the devil on your shoulder, telling you Charles could fix the ache in your heart—even if he was the cause of it.

You should be mad at him. You shouldn’t be the one longing for his presence beside you. You should be repulsed at the mere thought of him.

You couldn’t find it in you to stay mad at him. He was an irresistible force, constantly drawing you into him even when he wasn’t trying to.

And eventually, after an hour of trying to talk yourself out of it, it drew you right back to his side. As you slid into the sheets next to him, you tried your best to stay quiet and not to wake him. But when a warm hand was placed on your hip, you knew you’d failed to do so.

“I love you.” He tiredly spoke. You said nothing. Instead, you laced your fingers with his.

I just can’t stay done with you.

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.4 | END)

W/C 7.2k #NSFW, male!reader, top!reader, bottom!sukuna, ABO elements, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, questionable relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, gojo/megumi/yuuji/nobara cameos, yuuji/megu/nobara are early 20s, sukuna is controlling/possessive/obsessive, rough sex, not edited enough (oh well) Note: It's finally over (dies like Noctis)

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Google says kitsune are usually attuned to one of the thirteen elements,” Nobara prattled, scrolling through the random Japanese mythology website on her phone. “Itadori, what's his element, huh?” 

Yuuji pursed his lips, face growing deadpan as he thought and quickly realized he had no clue.

“Uh…” 

Nobara grimaced. “Useless.” 

“Hey, I didn't know they were all, y'know, elemental-y, okay?! Jeeze!” 

Megumi sighed and shook his head. “We're supposed to be keeping an eye on him, not arguing about garbage you found online.” 

The two country bumpkins followed Megumi's gaze to where you snoozed under a tree. It felt a little strange seeing you donned in one of college's spare uniforms, but you seemed quite pleased by the modern take on fashion and aesthetic. Yuuji wondered if you'd take to modifying the plain, black clothes the way you'd done so in the past.

“Oi, kyuubi!” Nobara called as she wandered in your direction, much to the chagrin of Megumi. “I got a question for ya.”

You spared her a sleepy glance before sitting up and stretching with a wide, toothy yawn. It almost took the three aback, seeing how sharp and distinctly not-human your teeth were.

“You and everyone else, evidently.” You hummed and combed your tail with your fingers. “Speak.”

“Is it true that your kind are, like, elemental or something?” 

Megumi sighed as he rolled up beside her. “She means to ask if kitsune are elementally-attuned, whether it be to fire, water, earth–that sort of thing.” 

“I literally just said that!” Nobara hissed as she smacked Megumi's arm. The raven didn't react in the slightest. 

“Yeah!” Yuuji piped up. His face grew red as soon as your lazy stare flicked to him. “I-I, uh–like, y'know, fire. Or…you talked about fire?” 

“You are so tactless. It's starting to get sad.” 

“Can it, Kugisaki!” 

You smiled. “It's true, more or less. I was taught my sort usually falls into one of the thirteen elements: celestial, wind, spirit, darkness, fire, earth, river, ocean, forest, mountain, thunder, sound, and time.

“Then, there are the broadly ‘bad’ sort, nogitsune, and the ‘good’ sort, zenko. Most say only zenko reach total divinity, but that's not always the case.” 

“Yikes, so the bad kitsune can be gods too?” Yuuji asked as he sat down with you and pulled at the grass idly. “Isn't that, y'know, bad?”

“Gods are all inherently bad, as far as I'm concerned,” you said.

“Gojo-sensei mentioned you were one,” Megumi offered as he and Nobara sat, too. “A god. The people revered you.” 

You snorted and covered your mouth the way you might have if you had the long sleeves of a kimono to aid you.

“They didn't mind me. I don't think they particularly liked me, considering what company I kept.” You hummed and straightened out your sleeve. 

“Yeah, but…you're not him, so what's the point in hating you?” Yuuji asked, and you couldn't help but feel more weight and worry behind the words. 

“I don't care what they thought of me. I only cared about what the palace residents thought. They were my family, in a sense.” 

“Even Sukuna?” Megumi asked. 

“That's such a stupid question, oh my god. Boys are so stupid,” Nobara said with a deadpan.

You smiled, though, and kindly still answered. 

“Especially Sukuna.” 

“Hey, hey! Sorry for the wait!” Gojo called across the field as he made a show of sauntering on over before teleporting in the blink of an eye. “So? Are we all–oooh, are we gossiping?”

“What, no?!”

“No.”

“No.” 

Gojo pouted. “My students always leave me out. Thankfully, my sweet, pious, precious (Name) is nice to me!”

“You're late, Satoru,” you sighed as you stood, tying back your chopped hair into the tiniest of ponytails. “What is the reason?”

Gojo whined and trotted up to you, rubbing and petting your ears to bring you back to his side of the issue.

“It's not my fault! All the higher-ups are sooo annoying and yap sooo much!” He shuffled behind you and played with your three lush tails much like a toddler would. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy that's not gonna get mad at the Gojo Satoru?” 

You sighed and flicked your ear, thwacking him in the forehead with it. “Let's not waste any more time, cretin.

“What're we even doing, Sensei?” Yuuji asked, rubbing the back of his head after raising his hand like he was in class. “You didn't really tell us anythin’.” 

“Yeah, I thought we were just watching the fox until he had to go back in his cage,” Nobara said, arms crossed and expression sour. “Seems kinda stupid. He's not even a threat.” But Yuuji knew there was little truth to that statement.

“I'm guessing the meeting was about relocating (Name).” Megumi looked at Gojo. “So what's the plan?” 

–

The five of you walked endlessly through the vast forest surrounding the college. Your gaze traveled up sky-scraping trees, admiring the ancient song of life only you could hear through the soil and air. Wind danced across the verdant canopy above, scattering beams of molten sunlight across the forest floor and dappling the shoulders of the sorcerers before you with golden kisses–a sight you so sorely missed from your tenure at the palace. 

The land was not crying here. You'd heard the distant sound from the concrete jungle resting far below the rise of the college, and it shrouded you with jaded confusion and contempt for what had been done to the world in your stead; if you'd been smarter, wiser to the plans of one, could you have prevented this? Or were humans simply inevitable with their evolution? Perhaps it was up to the Earth to find the yang after the yin.

“Okay, this is it!” Gojo called, snapping you from your rampant thoughts. 

You looked to where he gestured, and found a simple building. It was reminiscent of the college in its design–modern, but clearly inspired by traditional architecture–and it looked fairly new. A bell attached to a rope stood at the forefront, as did a well for mortals to throw their offerings before ringing the aforementioned chime. Beyond that, the shrine lacked character and decoration. It was a clean slate. 

You blinked owlishly, and tilted your head. “This is…?”

“A shrine! For our new on-campus god! How fun is that, huh?” Gojo smiled, proud for a reason you couldn't decipher. “You get to make it home!” 

The younger three all deadpanned, looking between each other, trying to parse if their teacher was delusional or just being a menace to society and doing this behind the council’s back. Honestly, it was up in the air. 

“I–is that even–” Megumi tried, but gave up and rubbed his face instead. 

“So…(Name)’s gonna be, like, our resident god, or something?” Yuuji wondered, feeling his heart pitter patter just a little faster. 

“Haha! Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Gojo smiled and looked toward the blank canvas of a shrine. “In exchange for divine favour, we grant sanctuary. Home. A place to call your own.” 

You didn't say much, but your tails swished and flowed as you stared at the humble abode–your humble abode–and inhaled shakily. 

“I suppose this will do,” you conceded, still too unwilling to give Gojo the satisfaction of knowing he'd touched your heart. “It's a bit stingy, however.”

“STINGY?” 

“Indeed. Now, begone–I have work to do.” 

– 

Sukuna reached for you when he dreamed. He didn't need to sleep, he had no use for it as he was now, but he convinced himself into the realm of the unconscious regardless, searching for the doorway leading to your mind. 

And he tried night after night, day after day, searching and sitting outside the palace of your inner realm once he found the entrance. The door was the same as the one leading to your chambers in your shared home; a simple, sliding door of wood and paper. Beautiful. Comforting. 

He knew the door wouldn't open for him, not yet; he deduced what may have happened, and what that would have meant for you all and himself as a result. He'd have to be patient. Wait for you to let him in to confront him, or seek his comfort. 

But he didn't expect the door to open so suddenly behind him, sending him rolling onto his back and staring upside down at the most magnificent sight he'd ever beheld–a kyuubi, sitting poised across the room, dressed in a haori several sizes too big, waiting with his back turned as candlelight flickered and lulled the room into a lazy, sleepy haze.

Sukuna righted himself and stood, spirit flailing and tearing itself apart in his uncontrollable want for you, for a desire to return back to the simplicity of this time. But he couldn't go back. Maybe he could recreate it. 

“Fox,” Sukuna murmured, excitement igniting the small, human body he'd been forced to mold his soul into. It felt so much worse in this form, his want being so much more fucking unbearable and burning a hole in his damn chest and skull. 

You shifted, head turning the slightest toward him yet refusing to give way entirely. But, then you stood, and Sukuna suddenly understood how you felt in the presence of his overwhelming power. 

You stood tall. Proud. Powerful. Your ears pointed towards the heavens while your tails fanned against the gates of hell when you turned to face that lover of the past, the one you held so dear for decades. 

Sukuna almost felt weak in the knees (or was that somehow Yuuji interrupting his delusions?) when bright red markings caught the light, shimmering in divine sparks of orange and teal in the firelight–and your eyes. Your eyes. They burned with higher purpose. With unreadable certainty and alien understanding. You made Sukuna's gut coil with need. 

“My Sukuna,” you whispered to the room. You took a step forward, and Sukuna eagerly met you the rest of the way. “You look so…small.” 

He looked up at you–yes, up--and admired your face and godly stature and just how fucking tall and unearthly and powerful you were looming over him. 

“Stuck looking like this fucking runt while I'm in his body,” Sukuna explained bitterly. He reached a hand up while he spoke, and you graciously leaned down to let his skin touch yours. 

An ache curled under Sukuna's skin, flushing his complexion with heat and suffocating him in those unbearable sorcerer uniform garbs. His pants strained too tight, his jacket and hoodie made his core swelter and his mind grow fuzzy. It was torture. 

“He looks so much like you,” you drawled, holding Sukuna's face in kind. You hummed with sympathy when he moaned and leaned into your touch, only abandoning his own rediscovery of your features to hold your palms against him, to indulge in everything so wholly you. 

“Forgot what I look like, huh,” Sukuna huffed. “This brat looks like a beaten monkey.” 

“So did you.”

“Hey.” 

“But I adored you anyway, did I not?” 

Sukuna scanned over your face slowly, methodically, wondering. 

“Adore. You mean ‘adore’.” 

“Perhaps.” You smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “It's been some time.” 

“You chose me. You belong to me.” Sukuna's lip curled as he growled and forced your hands into his skin firmer as though to leave scars. “Mine. Only mine.” 

Your lips quirked upwards and Sukuna pulled you down to kiss you. His voice reverberated between your linked bodies as your tongue licked into his mouth far enough to nearly make him choke. You kindly pulled him flush against you, wrenching more pleased, needy noises out of him with no effort at all. 

“You're as starved as Yuuji,” you whispered as his hands fumbled with your ornate clothes, yanking and pulling at them with reckless abandon. 

“Shut up.” His grumbling lessened just a bit when you eased your robes open, exposing your perfect skin to him once again. 

“I believe it'd displease you if I stopped talking, no?” You tore the clothing off the other's body as he pulled you down to the floor with him, suddenly so eager to submit. 

Sukuna scoffed. “I–just touch me, fox.” 

It was your turn to purr and keen, basking in the soft tremble of anticipation the all-powerful choked on as he spread himself bare beneath you, your garbs cascading all around him like a waterfall–only you would get to see him, chest heaving, eyes swirling with lust and need, hidden behind a curtain of embroidered flames.

“Poor thing.” You dug your nails into his hips and dragged him toward you, prodding your aching length against his unprepared heat. “You've been so long without touch. Without love. Do you still think it's meaningless?” 

The curse snarled, and you caught him by the throat, pinning him in place and jamming your other hand's fingers down his throat before he could bark back at you. And just that simple torture had the king's hips twitching and bucking, slowly falling into time with the rhythm of your digits slipping in and out of his bratty mouth. 

“F-fuck you,” he gasped once his mouth fell empty. 

You chuckled smoothly. “It's simply food for thought.” You pressed two fingers into him and worked inside with ease despite the crushing heat clamping down around you. You didn't know if his sweet, little body wanted you to stay put or fill him faster. 

“Fuckin'--annoying, shithead, bratty fox–” he cut off with a ragged moan as you pressed against his prostate and rubbed against it slowly, firmly, deliciously. His eyes fell shut and his brows twitched up, a vivid look of desperation and concentration making him look far too vulnerable and breedable for his own good. 

“It's strange,” you hummed, working him a little faster and jamming your fingers against his sweet spot over and over. “I never thought you'd willingly submit.” 

“I need it,” Sukuna growled, fisting his hand around his weeping length and stroking to the beat of your fingers. His hips bucked forward and back, unsure of what searing pleasure to lean into more; luckily for him, you were keen to up the ante. 

Your fingers slipped out and Sukuna snarled, crimson eyes snapping open to brand you with frustration. You felt the whip of desperate commands about to crack off Sukuna's tongue, so you wasted no time filling him back up, stuffing him beyond his limits. 

The man almost gasped, though it could have just been the force of your cock punching the air out of his lungs. You pulled him against you, seating him to the base with a little effort and brute force. You knew he liked the pain. Pleasure was closely acquainted with it, after all. 

“This is what you wanted,” you murmured as you rocked into him. 

The curse didn't know if you beckoned an answer from him, or simply stated the facts. So, he didn't answer you. He instead gripped onto your shoulders to keep himself steady while you effortlessly drilled into his core with each and every thoughtful roll of your hips. 

And it felt good. An uncomfortable, searing stretch accompanied the deep plunges filling him beat after beat. His body tightened and clamped down around you, forcing your length to rub against the weakest, most sensitive spots inside of him–places no one would ever dream of hitting inside the unruly king. None besides you, of course. You were different. Better than the rest. Fit to fuck and fill him if Sukuna so desired it. 

“(Name),” he groaned when you changed up the angle, aiming to rub up against the ceiling of his insides with every thrust. You tortured his weak spot, and made a casual show of forcing his stomach to bulge and distend whenever you bottomed out entirely, and Sukuna reveled in it. He wanted to be yours. Just yours. 

“You're so sweet when you submit,” you cooed, leaning down and nuzzling against his neck as you fucked into him harder and faster. “You should have done so sooner.”

Sukuna should have clapped Back, but he couldn't; he was too busy trying to angle himself to somehow get you deeper. He was too busy trying to pull you closer, to graft his thick thighs to your scar-riddled sides like a branch on a tree. He couldn't spare a single braincell on your arrogant Teasing when all he could think was, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me–

“Now he's lost his voice,” you sighed. “Such a pity.” Your hips hit particularly hard to punctuate, and Sukuna grunted. 

“Again,” he choked out. “Fuck me like that.” 

You branded a smile into his skin with a hum. “Are you sure? I won't stop if it's too much.” 

Sukuna opened his bleary eyes and spied your nine tails fanned out, cloaking the ceiling from sight. It felt like staring death in the face. Maybe he'd been in its clutches this entire time. Maybe he wanted–needed–you to be the end of him.

Your hand found his throat again, and Sukuna nodded as best he could, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to get words out of his open mouth–but grunts and groans had no issue bursting through as you left mercy by the wayside and destroyed him as thoroughly as he requested. You were, after all, a selfless god.

Sukuna's eyes rolled back as his head tilted in kind, mouth left agape as you burned him alive; every push of your body into his lit new fires, and every second you stayed connected, more of his soul exhausted itself before rising from ashes once again. The tightness coiling in his stomach grew unbearable and insatiable, hungering for more and more and more until–

“There's no shame in coming undone,” you cooed, your lips and fangs replacing the hand in his throat and peppering apologetic kisses. “Unravel for me, my love.” 

My love. My love. My love.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped. He clung to you, and you raised your head to kiss him, swallowing his strained noises to keep them a secret from the outside world and himself. 

He grabbed at your shoulders and arms as his head tilted back and a hoarse cry left him–just as his body clamped down and sent him over the edge, he realized pushing in and out had become more taxing. Perhaps because of his cumming, or perhaps because of the ungodly thing swelling at your base and ripping him open. 

You worked him through his high, never thinking of pulling away from him when he needed you most. Because this was bound to end. He was bound to wake up and feel cold where your hands now touched. He was stuck in the body of another with no hope of reaching you unless he somehow, some way turned the tables on all those weak sorcerers and broke free. 

But he would. He'd claim his vessel and walk amongst the new world, autonomous and untouchable. It was only a matter of time. 

–

Though Sukuna was selfish in chasing his own pleasure, he soon found immense satisfaction in yours.

The number of times he'd trap you against a wall and finger you until your legs gave out and your voice ran hoarse was too great to count. He couldn't help himself; that bewildered, wide-eyed look you gave him every time you were let go to fix your robes and catch your voice screamed, what was that for? And boosted Sukuna’s ego. He reveled in the glory of being the only one to do this to you, to being the one who forced you to lose composure. 

In his chamber, he indulged further. He'd work thick fingers deep inside of you while his other hands roamed and touched, stroking, pinching and rubbing wherever he deemed needed attention. And you were putty in his hands, absolutely melting into everything he did to you, even if accompanied by a shock of pain. 

Because you were a creature who only knew sex for the sake of bearing children. Beyond that clan using you in an attempt to create half-breed sorcerers, your primal nature influenced you to only seek out a mate for the purpose of bearing children, and not necessarily for pleasure. 

But Sukuna was the opposite. He never thought of siring children. He only thought of pleasure of another's body and the thrill of total domination over them, never the idea he'd suffer the consequences of an heir; he had those women drink a special tea to prevent that for a reason, especially when a handful had come to him, offering their bodies in return for fame and perceived power. 

With you, he could entertain the idea, however. 

Yes, the mere idea of watching you walk around the gardens, properly swollen with his children, with physical proof of his ownership and coupling with you, sparked something akin to greed in his chest. Though it was a little warmer than just that, admittedly.

–

Yuuji liked you. There was no escaping it, no denying it–he liked being around you. He liked your smile. Your tails. Your ears. The way you scared the shit out of him the first time you properly met. You were just…weird. Interesting. Kind of like Yuuji himself. 

But you were kind, too. The times he wandered out to meet you at your shrine to “check up on things,” or because he was bored, he always found you tending to your gardens, talking to the passerby wildlife, dozing at the entrance, and his heart would do something funny in his chest. 

Then his mind would rot until all he could see was you sprawled beneath Sukuna, singing the king’s praises while he fucked you into the tatami and bred you. 

It wouldn't stop there. Sukuna would taunt him, poisoning him with sinful thoughts and diabolic urges:

You think that fox'll give you the time of day? You, a petulant runt with not a shred of experience beyond your hand? Hah. 

Consider it a blessing--you'd probably cum too fast to enjoy him properly. You'd embarrass yourself to death.

I know you think about him when your hand's around your cock. You wish he'd warm it, no? Wish you got to watch his ass take you in? 

Go on, why don't you just try? Fulfill your fantasies! Maybe he'll act the part of a pious, pitying god and throw you a bone. 

Yuuji, for as airheaded as he could be, knew Sukuna wanted to indulge in you through his vessel. Or, he truly believed Yuuji wouldn't be able to hook up with you and live to remember it. Maybe he was right. 

But the young man thought you had a soft spot for him; he wasn't great at reading people by any means, but he thought you always gravitated to him before the others. You always held more warmth in your eyes when they fell upon him, and your preening touch constantly found him, your hands always smoothing out the creases of his uniform while deft fingers fixed his hair and pleated his hood into more attractive folds. 

Maybe your touchy-ness toward him was a culmination of your need to parent something. Yuuji didn't fully understand it, but Gojo mentioned something about you wanting children, but you couldn't have them. Not anymore. And so those urges manifested in other ways. 

But the young sorcerer wasn't so sure anymore.

“My Yuuji,” you cooed when he came to visit. “You're back again so soon. Is everything alright?”

Yuuji smiled and braced for impact, bowing his head the slightest bit to let you bonk yours against his in greeting. It really reminded him of the way cats would welcome each other. Thankfully, you didn't seem too eager to mark him with a dose of spittle, though. 

“Yeah, everything's cool. Just–dunno. Wanted to come see what you were doing, I guess.” The sorcerer shrugged and pocketed his hands after you'd finished lovingly headbutting him.

“Mmh. Well, I certainly don't mind the company.” You smoothed back his hair and fixed the wild flare of one of his eyebrows before stepping away and meandering back towards your shrine. “It feels like something's going to happen soon.”

Yuuji's stomach flipped. “Yeah? You think so?” He followed you, watching the hypnotic swaying of your tails and hips and ass–wait, wait, wait, no, no, no–

What? Am I wrong? Sukuna's voice purred. Looks downright breedable, doesn't he? He said it more like a want than a taunt, this time, like if he were in Yuuji's shoes, he'd jump on you and pick up where you left off. 

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Yuuji chanted, trying to calm down. Don't ruin this!

Ruin what? Your sad attempt at courtship, brat? 

Yuuji said nothing. Sukuna howled with laughter. 

“Natural disasters cannot always be predicted,” you murmured, bringing Yuuji back to the present. “And they can never be stopped.”

The younger frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as he followed you inside. “Eh, I mean…we can stop a lot with sorcery, can't we?”

“And if that disaster is born of sorcery? What then?” You snapped your fingers, and every candle in the room ignited with amber flame.

“Uh…I mean…” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I still think we can stop it. We'll figure out a way!”

You sure about that, brat? 

You laughed, soft and kind, bringing a smile to Yuuji instead of a ticked off frown. You had a way of settling his nerves and relieving the tension from tightly wound muscles. Is this the effect you had on Sukuna? Is that why he cherished you so much? 

“I admire your optimism, Yuuji. Perhaps I should aspire to be like you,” you said. 

Yuuji's face flushed. “E-eh? Wh–no! You're awesome the way you are! And, uh, you're–y’know. You're good!” Smooth. Eloquent. Exceptional.

You hummed and wandered further into the back rooms, allowing Yuuji to follow you to your chambers to relax. “Well, I'll trust your opinion, then.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Cool.” The sorcerer cleared his throat and messed with his hood as he followed your lead, admiring the tidy, comfy space you welcomed him into. Pillows and blankets were plentiful and all bunched together on a futon, so much like the nests Yuuji often saw in his dreams. It felt a bit…intrusive to see it in person. 

“Hey, uh,” Yuuji started, “I–can I ask something?” 

You seated yourself down across the small, simple kotatsu, and gestured for the younger to join you. “Of course.”

The sorcerer sat down across from you. “You and Sukuna. Were you guys–did you ever…y'know.” 

You tilted your head, curious. “Go on.”

“Were you, like, in love? Or something?” Yuuji's face burned red at the words. Talking about love was so damn awkward for some reason, especially when it had to do with Sukuna and the fox Yuuji himself pined for.

“Ah.” You tilted your head the opposite direction, and hummed. “I was in love, yes.”

Yuuji's chest ached. “Even now?” 

“Eternally.” 

“Do you want him back?” 

You didn't answer right away, and the festering pain spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers; of course you wanted him back. Of course you wanted your ancient, all-powerful lover back. Why would you ever accept Yuuji in his place? A weak, mortal being?

Before Yuuji could retract the question, you'd shuffled around to his side of the table and held one of his hands in both of yours. The younger couldn't bear to look at your face, and so kept his eyes trained on your elegant fingers smoothing over his rough, scarred knuckles. 

“I would not trade a soul that walks amongst the living for a soul that has already lived its life,” you said. “Sukuna has lived. And he has died. He may rise once more, but I do not seek to aid it; he chose to die in hopes of living forever. He must accept what his decision brings, as must I.” 

The storm inside of the sorcerer calmed the slightest bit. Sails no longer whipped and frayed; they caught wind and led his heart back to placid waters, though the depths of the oceans could always threaten future treachery. For now, however, Yuuji found safety.

“Man, you really are like Yoda,” He laughed, filling the room with renewed brightness.

You blinked owlishly. “Yoda? What that is, I do not know.” 

Yuuji laughed harder and clasped his hands around yours. “Nah, don't worry about it. It's a good thing, though. From one of the movies Gojo-sensei made me watch.”

“I would strongly advise against taking lessons from that man, Yuuji.” Your brow creased as your hands clutched his in a death grip. “He’s not normal.”

Yuuji grinned, then, and held your hands just as tightly. “Yeah, he's weird. But he's smart, too! One of the strongest guys alive, y'know?” 

“Even the strongest can make mistakes,” you said. “Even the strongest can lose, Yuuji. Always be careful, even if victory is assured.” Your careful touch graced the curve of his cheek. “I would hate for your visits to stop.”

The sorcerer's heart beat in double-time. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

–

The leaves crinkled and rustled, flashing shades of amber and ruby in the dwindling daylight. Gone was the warmth of Summer's smile; now, the cold, fierce nip of Autumn cut through the air, whispering secrets about the first frost and what it would do to devastate the green around you.

But you were a god. A creature of fertility and good luck. And so, the grass did not die, and the forest did not wither under the coming winter's threats. 

It seemed your gifts could not reach into the depths of your soul, however. Perhaps you weren't to indulge in the privilege of what you brought the world--the mortal things around you could make use of a blessing from the divine, but could the divine themselves? Could you bring yourself a remedy to your loneliness the way you brought life unto the ground beneath your feet? 

You didn't know.

–

The end of October came, and the world trembled with the force of thousands of lives ending in misery and terror. You beheld it from your home, the sight of the clouds turning orange and red as hellfire devoured all. 

Bless me ‘n wish me luck! Gojo had said last time he swung by. Definitely don't need it, but you're my favourite cheerleader, y'know?

That was not too long ago, perhaps a day prior. Maybe it'd only been twelve hours ago since you last saw him. Three hours ago since you last felt his celestial presence upon the earth. 

“I would hate for your visits to stop,” you murmured, and your chest froze with the cold. 

–

Winter brought with it snow and darkness. Kuraokami had his ways of slipping his icy presence through the slivered cracks of wood grain no matter the time or place; the great dragon would be heard and seen if it was his final act upon the earth. 

Not even you could keep him out, the lesser deity you were. But you didn't mind the company; the cold breaths against your skin woke you from nightmares and empty blankness when you dozed and dazed, feeling the days slip by and blur together into one grey smear of solitary existence. 

Something had happened. Ever since the sky lit ablaze in a familiar scene of ungodly strength, you felt a shift in the state of existence. In your relevance in the grand scheme of the college and history. 

Your sorcerers lost their way to you, you realized. The cushions around the kotatsu stayed fluffed and untouched save for one. Five of the six clay tea cups gathered dust as they waited, hopeful, like you. 

–

You woke to the feeling of hollowness. It jostled you to consciousness, in fact; those two little unborn lives swirled and stirred, clawing at your stomach before vanishing in an instant. 

Maybe they'd grown too sick and weary of the loneliness and snow, too.

–

Sukuna had walked down this path too many times. And too many times he'd been unable to move, unable to claw his way out of the prison of his vessel to get back to you–but things were different now. 

He held a bundle of blankets close as he wandered toward a speck of verdant green amidst the snowy whiteness blanketing the forest, and remembered a distant past he yearned to return to:

Sukuna was a restless creature. He often distracted himself with challenges, duels, leafing through stolen knowledge of other clans–but, on rare occasions, none of that would appeal to his tumultuous mind. 

You always appealed to him, however. You, with your lavish tails, your exquisite appearance, your superior poise and prose, you always enthralled him, made him wonder and stare. 

Maybe it was because you were always doing something. If you weren't tending to his women, you were meandering around the palace, admiring trophies earned in whatever form they came in: art, weapons, bones. If you weren't doing that, you might be in the garden instead, fine-tuning the patterns drawn in the zen garden yourself and feeding the massive koi. If not that, then you might be asking Uraume to teach you to cook, or you could be fiddling with your loom or–well, it could be anything. 

Sometimes, you’d choose to  lay with Sukuna and keep him warm and content throughout the dreary haze of winter. 

You didn't hate winter yourself, no, but Sukuna most definitely did. The snow and ice were a pain in the ass, and they always threw the garden into a messy disarray of dead foliage and slushy mud that'd have to be tended to come springtime. And it was cold as hell outside. Who asked for that? No one. 

“My love,” you cooed as you stepped to his side while he stared out the window. “Glaring won't make the seasons change.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “That a challenge?”

“Not at all.” You reached up and smoothed his hair back, stopping pesky, rebellious strands from tickling his forehead. “I'd hate to see what you'd do in an attempt to play god.”

“I'm already a god,” he countered as he snatched your hand from his hair and looked down at you.

“Not a god of the seasons, I'm afraid.” You held his hand and pulled it down to kiss his knuckles. “But a god amidst men, nonetheless.” 

Your beast hummed deep in his chest. You had a funny way of setting his roiling soul at ease with your effortless praise and acknowledgement. 

“Knew there was a reason I kept you around,” the man purred, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours. 

You leaned up into the soft gesture like a cat too eager to be pet. “You'd be quite bored without me.” 

“No kidding. I'd go fucking mental if I didn't have you to entertain me.” His voice was a murmur, then, and softened even more when your warm hands cupped his cheeks like he was a priceless, fragile artifact: precious, special, breakable.

“Yes, yes, I go insane in your stead, loved one.” You touched your nose to his, then, before placing the softest of kisses upon his lips. 

A light, sighed grumble slipped past Sukuna's lips when your skin left his. It was his turn to nudge his nose against yours, earning himself a petal-like smile from his prized possession, before he blessed you in return, trying to match the kindness you'd met him with. 

You held the front of his garbs as you leaned up into him, and his hands all found their places on your smaller frame in return, pulling you closer, keeping you against him. He hardly wanted anything like this in the past before you came along and tore his mind and soul to pieces before hunkering down in the hollow of his ribs and setting up shop. It was aggravating. Captivating. 

“Come,” you softly beckoned, slipping away from his desperate hold and leading him back to the bundle of blankets and linens he’d learned to accept as a bed.

As always, he had no choice but to follow, abandoning his mad-dogging of the outside world to join you and the infinite warmth his personal Amaterasu brought him. 

“You’re lazy as hell in the winter,” Sukuna noted as he sat himself down in the middle of your nest and let you get to work adjusting blankets and such around the both of you for optimal comfort. 

“You're free to traipse off into the snow if you so wish.” You settled yourself by Sukuna's side and tucked under his heavy arms. “I will remain here. Warm. Dry. At peace.” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes and pulled you close to his side, squeezing a chirped purr from your chest. “Think I'll pass on the snow.” 

You smiled to yourself, feeling warm and content with the settling silence engulfing you as the snow engulfed the world. Winter was the only season where he'd stay by your side, so you often indulged in it, bothering him and sticking to him like a needy pet until spring inevitably rolled around to ruin your happy spell. Because Sukuna was more wild and feral than you. He had to go wander, to go fight. Otherwise, he'd have no purpose. 

Unbeknownst to you, he may have another purpose in mind. 

His hand breached your clothes and reached down, stopping just above your navel to your surprise. There, he drew gentle, thoughtful circles against your skin. You felt pulses of cursed energy flicker and feel, searching for something neither of you yet knew of. 

“What is it you're looking for?” You murmured, knowing full well what he sought.

Sukuna inhaled deeply and exhaled just as heavy. “How long does it take to get one god knocked up, huh?” He tutted and looked down at you, holding an annoyed look while you met him with doey, lovey eyes as you leaned into him more. 

“I'm sure you'll be the man who finds out.”

Sukuna grinned to himself and adjusted the lump of blankets he held. Arrogant pride blossomed in his chest alongside his bolstered ego; if he could do this as a mere man, what could he do as a curse? 

The king sighed as he breached the warmth of the halo surrounding your humble, comfy abode. He was getting sick of the shit weather in the games, all the cold and emptiness. Being near you was what he needed. 

“Oi, don't make a fuss,” Sukuna grumbled lowly to the whining duo he adjusted in his arms. “You wanna get inside or not?” 

But before he could make use of his newly freed arm, the doors slid open before him. 

And you stood there. Tired. Disheveled. Eyes big and hopeful, yet rimmed with disbelief and shock as you stared at your man and the package he brought to your doorstep. 

Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't melt, too. Being here, standing firm and whole and so very real and untethered in the spot other sorcerers stood in their attempt to spirit you away from him–it was the reason for his existence. 

And so was your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. 

“Ho? So you did miss me, huh?” He hummed, looping an arm around you and pressing you closer to him. “Sure didn't act like it earlier.”

“I didn't wish to believe in something that felt untrue,” you murmured into his shoulder. “Even now, you're not…entirely yourself.” 

Sorrow stained the undertones of your voice. Whether it was for the fate of Fushiguro Megumi, or for the state of your lover, Sukuna did not know. 

But he was here. He was tangible. He was in control. Finally. 

“At least I'm here, yeah?” He said. And you nodded. 

You led him inside and into the room filled with comfort and warmth. Works of embroidery lined the once-unremarkable tapestries draping down from the ceilings and walls, and the wooden pillars now boasted intricate carvings in various states of completion. Seemed like you'd gotten quite bored in your wait. 

Sukuna sat with you, being the man to finally make use of the fluffed cushions around the kotatsu as he dragged it to your side to stay close. You needed it. He thirsted for it.

The bundle whined and cooed as soon as Sukuna’s ass hit the cushion, and he sighed. “Think you can take care of this, fox?” He teased, but felt a rush of something overtake him when he caught you with your ears perked, tails swishing, back straight as you stared down at the bundle. 

He eased them into your arms and, with shaking hands, you pulled back the wooly linen to find two perfect little treasures staring up at you with big, red-lined eyes. One held the colour of yours, while the other took responsibility for sporting Sukuna's hues, but both boys’ eyes glimmered with divine flecks of gold and amber. Their hair blushed with the colour of sakura petals, and two, itty bitty tufts of soft onyx ears dotted both of their heads like chocolate chips in strawberry ice cream. 

Two perfect kits. Your perfect kits. 

“You seriously wanted these things?” Sukuna asked, teasing and rude, but softer and warmer than the fire burning in your chest. “Gotta say, they're pretty fucking annoying.”

You swathed your tails around them and purred with the ferocity of an avalanche as you leaned into your partner and doted on the teeny tiny babies he'd somehow brought back to the land of the living. A part of you felt guilty for what this could mean. The rest of you screamed, I don't care. 

“Look at them,” You whispered, tracing the roundness of their cheeks with a gentle touch. “They're beautiful.” 

“Well, lookit who their parents are.” Sukuna chuckled and held you against his side, which you eagerly melted into. “Kenjaku had a plan for them too, turns out. Who woulda thought?”

“You never told me,” you said. “Why did you not tell me?” 

“You would've been pissed,” Sukuna said, voice matter of fact. “Better to just do it and reap the benefits later.”

You looked up at him, and found his gaze locked onto you. “That's quite selfish.”

“I'm a king. I can do whatever I want. I can have whatever I want,” He reminded you. “As soon as I take care of a few pathetic, loose ends, everything'll be in place. Right where it all needs to be. And life goes back to normal." 

Your heart did something funny when you read between the lines. “Must you–”

“Don't question me.” Sukuna grabbed your chin and forced you to look down at your snoozing babes. “You’ll lose this. All of this. You'll be left with nothing all over again if I don’t finish this off. That what you want, fox?” 

“You know the answer,” you murmured, too content to let him guide you and sway your reason. He tugged your chin toward him, forcing you to look his way again.

“Tell me anyway.” Tell me what I want to hear.

How could you refuse? 

“No matter the case," you murmured, soft as forgotten winter snow, "you will always have my favour, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

–

Forever to be loved, herein lays a God's young,

Imprisoned by none, held dearly by the Disgraced One. 

[missmielyhoran]

Chapter 1

Welcome to Humphrey high my loves...

I don't know shit about the british education system, and tbh it's confusing when I googled it, so I just made one up! But it's a all rounder school, more like fiction people are doing anyone and anything except studying.

Sunshine asshole × Grumpy sweetheart enemies to lovers

[Warnings - Angst, death threats, Harry being asshole as always, y/n having stick up her ass, bullying like a lot of]

Masterlist

*****

Humphrey High was a prestigious school for wealthy families. People from all over the world would send their kids there to get education from exceptional teachers.

It was basically boarding school for rich trust fund babies who have their head up their asses.

The school had seen many things from inappropriate relationships to enemies at each others throat to lovers who would die for each other.

Still, there was one story that stood out the most...

The whole small stadium of school was packed, yet no one dared to make a sound. Sweat glistened down the side her head to her neck as the sun was shining right above her head. It was too hot of a day, but nothing could stop her.

This was the last shot it would either make or break her streak of winning. The scores of both parties were equal, and even she had to admit that after a long time, she found a good opponent. The other girl served, and the intense game was on, but as good as the other could be, she wasn't her. The ball made a loud sound when it hit her racket, making the ball fly just an inch from beside the other girl, insuring her win.

The whole stadium roared while some booed, but there was a single person, the loudest of them all whistling and cheering for her, knowing it would get on her nerves.

Y/N rolled her eyes, looking over the bleacher where he stood with his smug taunting smile. She ignored him and walked towards her coach, who gave her a patt on the back and congratulated her.

There were a few things Y/N was known for, her great skills in tennis, physics, her resting bored face, which rarely turned into a smile and hating Harry Styles. It wasn't like she grew up in a traumatic household or had a traumatized childhood. Well, she did have traumatized childhood and experiences, but she feels like she had always been this way. That's why he called her that stupid nickname-

"My My Wednesday" Harry said, walking towards her, his ring clad fingers making clickling noise as he clapped.

"I will see you at the practice on monday, coach." She nodded her head and picked up her bag, looking around for her best friend who was nowhere to be seen.

"Why you ignore me, darling?" Harry asked, pouting feigning hurt. He was walking backward in front of her, and she had all mind to push him.

So, she did.

He fell on the grass with a thump mumbling a small 'ow' as if falling on grass would hurt him. Y/N took the opportunity and race walked out of the stadium to the parking lot where she saw her friend dry humping with some girl on her car!

"Get off" Y/N said once for all, and the other girl was scrambling off of her car's hood while her friend laughed. She looked at her car for any dent or scratches when there were none she hummed contently. Y/N threw her bag in the backseat while Amelia slid into the passenger seat.

"Next time don't fuck on my car" Y/N said giving Amelia side eyes. Her best friend raised her hands in defeat, knowing the love she had for cars. It wasn't like Y/N was obsessed with cars or has a passion for collecting them (she had), no. It's just this old Mustang she got as a gift that she loves more than anything cause it was given by the only tolerable person in her family, her grandma.

"Did you win?" Amelia asked as Y/N started the car. Y/N gave her a deadpan look and shook her head. "Of course you won it was silly of me to ask" Amelia laughed.

"Hey doll, can you give me a ride with you?" she suddenly heard the infuriating voice again. Harry stood on her car's window, his face way too near hers for her personal taste. It irked her, and he did it more. He knew she hated when people were near her, and he did just that.

He stands way close to her or puts her in a position where she has to be near a lot of people or talk to them. He did everything he could to push her buttons.

"No" Y/N said, and just as her foot was going to accelerator, Harry ran and slid in the back seat.

"Such a sweetheart, aren't you?" He gave her a fake smile and fixed his attention to Amelia.

"Hey, wasn't that the girl from history class?" He asked Lia, earning an eyeroll from Y/N. Y/N wasn't one to judge people for their preferences, but she did judge her best friend's preference in men cause their was one boy she keeps going back to and has almost fucked half school to make him jealous but as always it never works and she has to be the one listening to her cries and rant about how shitty men are.

"Yeah" Amelia agreed with same sly smile as Harry's. "She's so hot I was shocked she even agreed" Amelis laughed.

"Are you kidding me you're hot as fuck. No wonder she agreed" Harry sat back in the car seat like it was his own hands behind his head and all. "Get your friend some too it might get that stick out of her ass" Harry chuckled.

"I don't want something. All I want is for you to get out." Y/N said, looking at Harry through the rearview mirror as his dorm had arrived. He just shook his head and got out of the car. He leaned against the window like before, way too near her for her taste but she didn't back cause that would mean he knows it affected her and she would rather die than admit that anything he does affects her.

"And if you can't find anyone, my dorm is just a garden away" Harry said, "You can get details from your bestie. I can assure you my service is very satisfying. " He winked and gave Amelia a smirk. Y/N glared a whole behind his back as he skipped towards his building while Amelia laughed beside her.

Oh yes, forgot to tell...Amelia and Harry used to fuck. Alot. And yes the service sounded very satisfactory from a thin wall but she will never admit that.

"He's just joking babe calm down." Lia laughed as if it was funniest joke, but all it did was annoy her.

*****

"I just don't understand why he won't even look at me!" Amelia whined, "Am I not pretty?" She asked Y/N sadly.

She looked at her friend and sighed, "You don't look bad" She said and resumed her homework.

"Then why won't he ask me out!?" Amelia let out a loud groan and fell back on bed. Y/N just shook her head and tried to concentrate back at her homework.

"Why won't you ask him out if you're so desperate?" Y/N said and Amelia looked at her like she has 3 heads.

"I'm desperate that stays between you and me. I would rather die than let him know that" She said, "Anyways what are you wearing for the annual ceremony this year?" Amelia asked.

Y/N slammed closed her notebook and put her head down on the desk. Every year except her first she had found a way to dodge going to that god awful ceremony.

It was the time that inncident with him happened and after that she can't stand being near him or go to that ceremony again.

"I'm not going" Y/N said putting an end to the discussion.

"But it's our last year!" Amelia whined, "I don't want to be there alone. Pleasee Y/N" Lia practically begged.

"Don't worry, you will find someone" She said and put her books where they belonged. It was true Lia was the perfect person to exist she was pretty, smart, outgoing, she made friends werever she went just don't let her know Y/N thought all that about her cause she won't let her hear the end of it.

"But I want to go with my bestieee" Lia whined again, giving her best puppy eyes.

"We do this every year, and just like every year, it's not going." She said, going to the washroom to change into her pajamas.

She breathed heavily as she looked into the mirror. She hated crowed places and told everyone and herself also, but she knew why she didn't want to go, really.

*****

So, yeah... this was this. I will write a new chapter soon. I'm also working on the 2nd part of the stages of grief, so that may be out soon also.

Thanks for all love. I love you guys so much<3

Taglist- @tenaciousperfectionunknown @that-daydream-look @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @lomlhstyles @vmpellie @sunshinemoonsposts @jayde515 @yeehawbrothers @sleutherclaw @ikea2-0 @thechaoticjoy @astridcommings @gxbiqs

Please Like, Comment and Reblog♡

You can tell me how it was here♡

[totheblood]

superposition. (one)

pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader

summary: you've never been on a date, hell, you've never even kissed anyone. ellie decides to be a good best friend and teach you how! wow.. so kind of her..

warnings: 18+, nearly every chapter will have a somewhat sexual element to it (this one is probably the tamest?), cursing, alcohol/drug mention, suggestive themes... cheating if u squint

a/n: i want bff!ellie and that's all... friends to lovers??? fav trope. i hope i do this justice and i hope you guys like it... ai audios at the end as usual

"in every universe, you are my dark star."

You felt like a fucking loser.

Well, you usually felt like a loser, but as you sat on Dina’s couch researching what to wear on a first date you felt absolutely lame. It wasn’t like you hadn’t been asked out on a date before, it’s just that no one you liked had asked you out on a date before. A girl had never asked you out on a date before. But since the cute girl from your chemistry lab had asked you if you wanted to go to dinner with her, you happily agreed.

You were just… inexperienced and although it never bothered you before as you approached the time for your date you were becoming increasingly more nervous. What to wear, what to order, and what to talk about were all things you were not familiar with and you wanted to be, if anything, overly prepared. So you did the only thing you knew how to: Google it. 

Your feet were tucked under your legs as you sat crisscrossed on the couch. From the living room, you could hear Dina and Jesse laughing in the kitchen as they snacked on whatever they had available in their pantry. Ellie was sat at the dining room table with a scale in front of her, measuring and sorting loose flowers into dime bags. This was what a regular Friday night looked like for your friends. It usually ended in Ellie passing around one of her pre-rolls as you watched a shitty movie Jesse had suggested, but tonight you planned to leave early for your date.

As if Ellie could sense the tension rolling off of you from her place at the table, she plopped herself next to you on the couch, startling you from your anxious state. 

“Jesus, fuck-” You looked at Ellie with wide eyes, her green ones staring back and searching your face as if she was analyzing you. “We need to put a bell on you. You scared the shit out of me.”

“I practically stomped over here, it’s not my fault that whatever-” She gestured back and forth between you and your phone. “Is going on with that stopped you from hearing me.” 

You rolled your eyes at her fully knowing she was right but not wanting to give her that satisfaction. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Soooo,” She began, drawing out the sound as she placed her arm behind you on the couch and leaned into you. “What’s got you all nervous today? I swear whenever you’re nervous, I get nervous.”

You groaned, leaning your head back and into Ellie’s arm. You tilted your head slightly to look at her. She looked comfortable in her grey hoodie, her other hand tucked into the pocket. Her eyes were locked on yours and her eyebrows knit together. She was concerned about you. If the reason you were freaking out wasn’t so juvenile you would be eating this up, but instead you just felt guilty. It annoyed you how well she knew you sometimes.

“It’s so stupid, El.” Your voice came out in a whisper almost as if you were telling her a secret. “You’re gonna laugh at me” Her face softened as she offered you a small smile.

“How much do you wanna bet it’s not stupid?” She leaned her head back on the couch, trying to match your posture. “And if I laugh you have full permission to punch me.” 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes for a second. You knew that she would never make fun of you for freaking out over a date, but that didn’t stop you from being reluctant to say it out loud. 

“I have a date tonight.” When you opened your eyes you scanned her face looking for a hint of a smile, something that would tell you not to stress. Instead, you saw a different emotion flicker over her face, something you couldn’t quite place. Shock? No. Sadness? No. Disappointment? Close enough. It didn’t make much sense to you but as quick as it was there, it was gone.

“And?” She didn’t sound annoyed, but she didn’t sound happy for you. For the first time in your life, you were having a difficult time reading her.

“And I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never been on a date before.” With your admission, you squinted your eyes causing your nose to scrunch. The reaction you were getting from Ellie was hard to read and you were already beginning to feel extremely embarrassed. When you finally did adjust your vision to look at her she just looked confused.

“Why did I not know you’ve never been on a date?” 

“Cause I never told you.” You laughed, a downturned smile on your face. “Not really the best talking point.” You were trying to lighten the mood but Ellie’s expression never changed.

“I mean, it makes sense.” She casually said. If you were anyone else you may have laughed it off, but the sentence cause a sharp pain in your chest. Your mouth fell open as you gasped and playfully pushed her shoulder.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Her eyes widened as she realized how you took her sentence.

“No, no- fuck. I just mean like you spend all your time with me. You never really talk about anyone, I’m not saying no one would date you cause obviously I know that’s not true, I just mean… I didn’t mean it like that.” She rambled out, a frantic look on her face.

“Damn, Ellie. Tell me how you really felt.” The smile crept back up on her face as she realized you were teasing her.

“So you’ve never been on a date? So what?” She shrugged, trying to steer the conversation back in it’s original direction.

“So I don’t know what to wear, or what to talk about, or howtokiss.” You mumbled the last part of your sentence together hoping she wouldn’t notice, but she was Ellie and she noticed almost everything.

“Wear that pink floral dress you have, the one that makes your boobs look amazing. Talk about yourself, it’s a date, the whole point is to get to know each other. And what was that last thing you said?” When she spoke to you everything she said seemed so casual, but you weren’t like her. You couldn’t brush over the fact that she just told you not only does she know your wardrobe without thinking too much about it, but also makes a note of how you look in them. How your tits look in them. 

“Uhm-” You cleared your throat. “I don’t know how to kiss. I’ve never done it before.” You reluctantly admitted. Again you expected Ellie to laugh at you, but she just stared at you, then your lips. 

“Well, I can show you.” She shrugged, eyes trained on you. Your mouth hung open, unsure of what to do. On one hand, kissing your best friend never seems like a good idea, on the other hand, you could use the practice.

“I mean… now?” You asked, your body heating up in anticipation. She looked completely serious, her lips were a straight line and her body seemed completely calm. She was the complete opposite of you. She slightly got up and leaned over you as she peered into the kitchen, presumably checking for Dina and Jesse. As she sat back down she took another quick glance at your lips. 

“Yeah, now. Just a quick lesson before your date.” She said it matter-of-factly almost as if this would just be a case of a friend helping another friend. Like she was offering to help you move or something. A part of you assumed you were overthinking it. If she was so nonchalant about it, then it must not be a big deal. Right? 

“Yeah, okay. It couldn’t hurt, right?” 

“Don’t think so.” She agreed.

“So, what do I do? Do I just-” You placed your phone on the couch between you before cupping her cheek. Ellie placed her hand that was previously in her pocket over yours and moved your hand down to her thigh before leaning in close to you.

“Just relax, I’ll show you how.” Her voice came out in a whisper that you could feel ghost your lips. You were unsure of when she got so close but you could smell her, feel her short and rapid breaths coming from her nose. If you moved an inch your lips would be on hers, but you decided to let her take control.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as she closed the small gap between your faces and pressed her chapped lips against yours. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you froze, unsure of what to do next. Her hand that was still resting on yours tapped the back of your hand. Almost instinctively you parted your lips and hummed when her tongue tentatively brushed against yours. It almost felt natural, her tongue in your mouth and your hand on your thigh, but as she slowly pulled her face back from you, you suddenly wanted more. 

Your free hand grabbed the back of her head, your lips capturing hers once again. You were fighting to feel her tongue in your mouth again but understood what she wanted when her lips parted. Her hand which had been resting behind your head for a better part of your conversation had made its way down to your waist and gently pulled you into her. Your chests were impossibly close together and every little noise you made caused her to get more and more aggressive. Your whole body was burning and you were attempting to ignore the wetness that was growing at your center, but Ellie just kept going. She guided your hand further up her thigh, humming into your mouth as you brushed your thumb over her inner thigh.

With the hand that was previously trapped in your hair, you steadied yourself with a hand on her shoulder as you pushed her back in an attempt to straddle her. Both your hands had moved. Her hands found their place at the base of your hips and yours were gripping the back of her neck. Her lips felt like fucking magic as she began to suck on your bottom lip. You could feel a tightness in your core, something you were all too familiar with. Your clothed hips ground down on hers, causing her to gasp and break away from you instantly.

“Fuck, fuck. Okay.” She sighed, leaning away from you and gently pushing you away from her. When you got a good look at her her lips were swollen and eyes red and glossy. You wanted to kiss her again, you wanted to relieve the pain you were beginning to feel, but the situation was beginning to set in for you. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never done that before.” She blinked up at you, her hands rubbing at your sides distracting you. Your mind was practically empty. 

“Was I okay?” You asked bashfully, causing her to snort. All she did was lean up and press a kiss to the side of your lips, before pushing you off of her and back onto the couch. 

“You were more than okay, that was-” She stopped herself as she looked at you. Her eyes scanned your face, staying too long on your lips. “I think your date will go great.” Something in her tone seemed solemn, but she had a gentle smile on her face, and her hand was still hoovering the side of your body.

“Thank you.” You said quietly, eyes never leaving her. 

“I should get back to work, and you should go get ready.” She pushed herself off the couch and made her way back to the dining room table, leaving you sitting there licking your lips just for the taste of her. A second after her you got up too, grabbing your bag from the coffee table in front of you. Ellie turned back around to look at you from the table. 

“Wear the dress, and uh-” She stopped to look you up and down. “Text me when you get home tonight.”

ai audios:

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x DC AU: Danny didn't want to rely on his rogues, but Tucker's computer skills only got them so far and if the media black out continues... Danny knows it's not going to be pretty for them. Nightmares begin to plague the Justice League.

---

Danny gets back from a shitty conversation with Clockwork and in his frustration, accidentally sets off one of the new GIW sensors that his parents allowed to be installed in the lab. Their collaboration seemed to be going no where but when Danny had new holes blasted through him... it must be going somewhere. Damn it.

The commotion is loud enough that Jazz hears it from her room above the lab (he knows she listens to more than just the lab... it's cause she cares, even if it is a bit invasive.) and rushes in to play the distraction while Danny gets away. This time it works- the Drs. Fenton might have the worst aim in the city but they demand all shots cease if a civilian is nearby- Next time his mom might be aiming her gun at him and not the ground. Danny decides he'll buy Jazz a coffee on his way home.

But first, new holes. Yikes. That like, needs medical attention- He heads to Tucker's place and he's pretty sure Sam is already there.

"Danny! What the fuck, did Clockwork-" She starts, her meticulous cat eyeliner making her glare all the deeper.

"Nah, it's the stupid GIW sensor, the stupid one I told you guys about that has a spring lose in the back?"

"I thought we decided those weren't a concern?" Tucker looks him over, face covered in undisguised and very blatant concern.

"Yeah well, Clocky pissed me off so I forgot about them when I came back in through the lab portal-"

"you were supposed to be practicing making your own." Sam interrupts.

"-And when I did, the thing got knocked and I was swatted like immediately. Jazz launched herself into the lab so Mom made them stop shooting and it gave me enough time to get out." Danny continued to explain, ignoring his friend's 'i told you so' faces.

"Dude. We're pushing it close this week. Sam already had a confrontation with the lab guys and I already got blacklisted on my new persona accounts. We're like seriously threading the needle for getting caught." Tucker, pulls his glasses down to pinch the bridge of his nose and Danny and Sam both get what he's really saying. They need to lie low.

"What did CW say to piss you off?" Sam asks after a silent moment.

"He said nothing really, just like he always does, but insinuated I should try getting a rogue to help." Danny sighs.

"What, Like getting Ember to announce the GIW invasion on her tour? We already agreed that-" Sam is getting angry as she speaks so Tuck cuts her off- "It's a bad Idea. She is- They are all just as likely to get captured and hurt as you are if you go out of town." He comes to the same conclusion they've agreed on for weeks. No rogue involvement.

"Maybe we just need to sleep on it... Hey... wait." Danny sighs, but then his gears start to turn.

"Nocturn. We need Nocturn to help us. He can get the message out through dreams." Danny comes to the new conclusion and his friends look hesitant but at least like they're considering it.

"Isn't he an ancient? He's not going to help us for free." Tucker, ever the Egyptian god in these moments.

"Most people don't take their dreams literally." Sam, ever the skeptic in these moments.

"Yeah but, if they dream it enough times, and they're the right people to do something... they can look it up and then at least see that there is a problem?" Danny sounds hopeful and its the first time he's sounded that way in months.

"What, you're gunna give Batman nightmares?" Tucker snickers but Sam looks inspired.

"That's exactly what he's going to do. We need to haunt the Justice League. They'll see past the fake facade the GIW put up online and they'll be able to get the right legislation passed." Sam is practically buzzing.

"Okay, so lets get scheming- What do you get the primordial beast of the unconscious? Should I google 'what to get someone who has everything'? " Danny laughs.

_____

Bruce and his children rarely do feelings when they have breakfast in the morning after a night of separate patrols, but it seems as though the room is plagued with unease. Tim looks about as tired as ever, so his unease is probably attributable to WE board meetings, but its unlike the rest of his children to be so... disturbed. For some reason, after Alfred has excused them all from eating more than a few nibbles, they make it to the cave. Bruce is glad for the noise his children bring.

The nightmare's he's been having are following a dark plot. A town, a boy who looks like he was kin, and so, so much death. Bruce has had vivid dreams before in life, but this nightmare is... unreal. He tries to remind himself that it's just a nightmare.

When his JL emergency communicator goes off at the computer desk, he's not expecting it to be Dinah Lance. She and her Birds are typically wary of him in Gotham, even if they work well together in the League. He answers it like he would any Batman call, with silence.

"Bats, we have a problem. Any chance you've been having weird dreams about a kid getting experimented on or a town being burned down? Ghosts? Lazarus portals?" Dinah sounds exhausted, but Bruce snaps to her voice with rapt attention. As do all of his children.

"I-" Bruce takes a look around the room, everyone's heads except for Tim's nodding up and down with distress," We all have."

"Something tells me that they whole JL is. Everyone I've talked to this week has had a variation of the same dream. We either have a telepath trying to tell us something, or something even worse than that."

"I'll call emergency meeting, we need to collect details and try to determine the complete message."

"I'll send you what I've noted down so far, sans personal details of course, it's definitely in a town called Amity Park though. My client this morning saw the sign."

Batman grunts and the call ends. It's time to get to work.

----

When the Justice League finally arrives, the town is glowing, and everything feels like... sleep. smothering. snoring. smoking. smoldering.

And then, despite the exhaustion that echos within them, the trudge onwards. The noise of laser guns certainly wakes them up a bit.

[uh-oh-its-bird]

There are so many naruto time travel fics out there but what I need SPECIFICALLY is an ANBU era team of Kakashi, Tenzo, Itachi, and Shisui getting flung into the founders era.

Like. Ok just looking from the political side of it that's;

A) 2 very young and VERY powerful Uchiha's (one of which is the future clan head!! Politics!!)

B) A very fucked up baby mokuton user who's still in the middle of being deprogrammed and can totally pass for Senju

C) The free wild card that is Hatake clan lore on top of having a stolen sharingan. On top of *that* him being the team leader of a team of kids who, in the time period context, should both be at eachothers throats and probably not be expected to obey the commands of someone not only from another clan but a way smaller one

Theres SO much potential there!! So many political implications in virtually ALL of the directions!!!!

Yk what as I'm typing this out I'm having ✨️ideas✨️ so let's make some story points to sort those out:

• I think itd be neat to have this happen like. A year? Ish? Before the massacre? So age wise, and full disclaimer I'm referencing Google and Wikipedia rn so I could totally be wrong, I think that's :

Kakashi (18)

Tenzo (17)

Itachi (12)

Shisui (15)

Could be wrong about the ages but honestly it's my world you're just living in it, so.

Then me going totally purely off of my own headcannons, were going to say they came in a about a year before Izuna died and place the founders ages as:

Madara (23)

Hashirama (23)

Izuna (19)

Tobirama (18)

Big fan of Tobirama being the youngest between the 4 but projecting the aura of someone as old as like. Idk, however old Madara is. Very funny to me, 10/10

• I'm personally a big fan of dogteeth kakashi so we're running with that all the way home. Also a huge fan of the "Hatake's are a distant, more feral cousin of Inuzuka clan" hc along with some sprinklings of "back in the day they had a bit of a Reputation(tm) for being a 'lill wild, and everyone generally tries to avoid them. Which isn't too much of a problem because theyre a very small out of the way clan from Iron, they just have a big reputation in contrast to their size.

In more modern times tho, along with (obviously) having dwindled down to a single depressed teenager, they've become a lot tamer over the years due to village life. Kakashi is a Hatake, 100%, but he is NOT up to the standards of this time. Which becomes a bit funny when people see him, go "oh FUCK it's a Hatake" and then start edging slowly towards the door like he's about to rip their throat out with his teeth. Meanwhile he's standing there like 🧍‍♂️"am I that ugly."

Give me a scene where, finally used to this reaction to him from the general shinobi population, the team starts to use it to their advantage.

"Give us the scroll or we'll let the Hatake off the leash to have his fun with you. He's been awfully hungry latley you know, hasn't had fresh meat in days"

Kakashi, feeling kind of stupid, gave his best growl.

It caused an almost immediate, embaressed flush to rise to his face, but he didn't let up. It sounded more like an almost pathetic puppy growl than anything to his ears, but apparently it was enough to convince the trembling enemy nin because he slowly lifted the scroll up in offering.

Wow. Now he couldn't tell if he was embaressed for himself or for this guy.

Probably both to be honest.

• So like. Itachi is the clan heir. That's big. That's important. Let's do something with that.

First off, I had a great time reading this one fic (tho I don't even remember what the fic itself was about now, oops) where a plot point of it was how Sasuke is just a walking stereotype of main house Uchiha. Like people look at him and they don't just go "oh that's an Uchiha." They go "oh fuck that's an UCHIHA Uchiha." He's so fucking painfully, obviously related to the very tippy top of the clan that anyone not blind can tell. It's in the way he looks, it's in the way he talks and treats those around him, it's in the way he fucking holds himself. You look at him and every other stereotype about the Uchiha clan is there in big, bold letters. (On top of that he's also a dead wringer for Izuna, which I'm such a sucker for and desperatley wish people would do more with)

So like let's give that to Itachi here because it's so fun for several reasons.

First off; Sasuke in this is like. Straight up a doppelganger of Izuna, just a few generations apart. They could be twins. Itachi, as I'm sure you are aware, is Sasuke's big brother. So let's take some liberties and say that Itachi could absoloutley pass as a blood sibling to Izuna and Madara.

He is however 12, so we're also going to say that the only people who get to make this connection is anyone who's seen the siblings when they were also at a similar age.

On top of that however he has the 'walking amalgamation of all the stereotypes of the main Uchiha house' so anyone who isn't blind will look at him and assume he's somewhere in the sphere of 'important main house person' tho who really knows how distant the relation may be exactly. No one !! That's who !!!

Second; He's the fucking clan heir!! What the fuck!! This bit would have the most impact after all the messy time travel reveals when things have settled down a bit, so it'll sit in the back pocket for a bit. Save it for some fun shaking up later down the line so we don't run out of all the fun reveals too fast and bore the readers, yk?

When it is brought up tho it'd be fun to maybe have some fucky Itachi and Madara mutual understandings of the way things work.

• So. Madara is like a bit of a scary bed time story to Uchiha children, right? Like. "Ooo make sure you don't get too obsessive or fall too deep into your grief and always stay loyal to the village or you'll end up just like Madara!!"

Something something Uchiha-Village relationships are tense as hell, something something Madara fucking over a lot of the clan with his whole. Everything., Something something scapegoat and old stories, something something 'people have probably been talking a lot more about how "god dammit this all started with Madara" in recent years.'

Now with that in mind let's take a look of what our time travelers think of Madara:

Itachi is a good Konoha soldier. Itachi (as has been very much fucking proven) would rather beat a possible problem before it even exists with a hammer till it dies an ugly bloody death than even RISK it blossoming into a proper problem. Itachi does not like Madara. Itachi personally, quietly thinks they should maybe wait till the village is formed then carefully arrange a little accident for him before he goes off the rails. He, even more quietly, maybe even thinks it would be a kindness. Allow him to be remembered well by the village instead of scorned.

Shisui I think is cautiously optimistic about him. He's the kind of guy who gives the benefit of the doubt, who weighs the options, risk and reward, but includes things like hope and compassion in his calculations. Yes, Madara was a uhh. Thing. That happened. But in every story his big blow up always come from one specific event; Izuna's death. So if they stop that from happening, wouldn't it secure both a better future for them and Madara? The history books never went into detail about Izuna, he doesn't know what he's like, but maybe his involvement in the future, on Konoha's side, could lead to even more profits for them long term. At the end of the day he's not against killing Madara (though to be clear, they are at first operating on trying to avoid all interactions with historical events and return home without touching things) but it'd be nice, to manage to get a happy ending for everyone. Unrealistic maybe, but nice.

Mmmm hear me out actually, maybe Shisui, after interacting with him a bit, finds that Madara reminds him of Itachi too. They definatley both have that "I would do unspeakable things to even dream of my loved just one more time" energy, if you know what I mean

Anyways; Kakashi and Tenzo are both neutral on Madara. Yes, they learned about how he betrayed the village when young just like everyone else, but they weren't getting the bed time stories and "do this and you'll end up just like him" warnings like the Uchiha's. They're possibly leaning into negative but are detached from the situation enough to just go "well he hasn't done it yet and his brother is still alive so he won't any time soon" and be done with it

• Now, on the the total opposite side of the spectrum you have Hashirama and Tobirama. People are brought up in Konoha to fucking IDOLIZE these guys. You can not tell me our team of time travelers wouldn't be at least a little awed to speak with them.

I think Tenzo would be the most wide eyed about Hashirama, both for the baseline "holy shit that's the Shodai Hokage" and also that fun juicy mokuton user imposter syndrome he has going on for him. That guys DNA is inside his body!!! Holy shit wait does that mean if someone did a blood relation test with them he might read as being related to him?? Fuck were gonna pocket that for now but like. Mmmmm potential.

I'd say Itachi is the most hesitant about Tobirama but again, village loyalist, so.

You know what tho maybe Shisui is the most hesitant about him (though still largely positive) he both def grew up looking up to him but can also see the anti-Uchiha policies people inact now with the implications that Tobirama would have approved of it. He doesn't know if he would, but like, he has to wonder.

Kakashi is probably the most normal about them (and also has experience in being close to a hokage (Minato) to know that at the end of the day they are painfully human) Don't get me wrong, he's still in some sort of awe! He might get a little lightheaded at the thought of seeing the God of Shinobi in proper battle, or the possibility to see the famed genius of Tobirama with all the different jutsu's he's invented. You can't tell me Kakashi didn't spend a little extra time reading about him when he was trying to make Chidori. Honestly I'm gonna roll with that and say he had a bit of a phase as a kid where he was a total fan boy. Maybe sprinkle in the good old HalfHatake!Tobirama hc to add some faint daydreams a lonley babykashi had after his father's death, about getting to meet him as family. Like cmon, little genius idolizing and projecting on some big history figure only to find out they're actually related? Can you say potential?

Anyways he did eventually grow out of the phase, probably got unattached to it all and lost interest after the whole "losing everything he loved" bit of his life. And at the end of the day, he doesn't have any real complex personal hang ups on the founders like the others do. Thus, most normal.

• And then my favorite most special boy, Izuna !! He's for sure the one they're all most neutral about. He's not actually taught about in the academy? There's probably some throw away line about him in some history books somewhere, but he died young and was quickly buried by the looming shadow of Konoha. The only real knowledge had about him in modern times is just a vague "Yeah he got killed by Tobirama which lead to peace being made but also lead to Madara losing his shit"

Poor Izuna he's the linchpin for it all but was left an unremarkable footnote of history. My boy deserves so much better

Tenzo doesn't actually even know who he is, that boy got bare minimum education under Danzo and Izuna was NOT included.

Itachi and Shisui mmmaybe have some small little fun fact here or there buried in stories from the older members of the clans but like. It's gonna amount to just "yeah he had a great katon" and thats about it.

I WILL SAY HOWEVER. Itachi sees him and instantly is that one PTSD dog meme. Sasuke is a BABY but holy shit Izuna looks exactly like he'd expect him to grow up as and it's making him FEEL THINGS. Also he's so bratty little brother coded !! He's an entire 7 years older than Itachi but Ifachi keeps fucking up and trying to big brother him it's embaressing.

And ofc Itachi didn't go into the first meeting thinking he'd see some weird older mirror version of his beloved baby brother who he misses and worries about very very much. So like. There's for sure going to be some conflict there. If their first meeting is a scuffle (which it probably will be) I think Itachi would keep hesitating to attack. On full run away mode. Which is probably for the best bc he shouldn't try to fight Izuna anyways honey he's like double your bodyweight and you're strong but you aren't THAT strong.

• Pointing back at both the 'Itachi does not like Madara and has quiet thoughts about how it'd possibly be in everyone's interest to just kill him' and the 'Itachi and Madara quietly bond over being clain head/heir during stressful times (w pressure from the elders especially)

I can see 2 outcomes of a potential bonding conversation with them:

1) They come to understand eachother better.

Madara wants to be on good terms, he looks at this kid and sees one of his brothers eyes and the others quiet determination. He can tell Itachi doesn't like him for some reason, and it's frustrating because he doesn't know why. He wants him to like him. He wants to be able to offer his hand and have it taken. It hurts, to be looked at with such suspicion from a face that has traces of Izuna's.

Meanwhile Itachi . . . Itachi looks at Madara and he sees someone who gets it. Gets it like no one ever has. It scares him. He looks up at this man, this horror story he's been told to fear becoming, and he sees himself. And this realization shakes him. It makes him think, makes him wonder. He's so, so sure of his loyalty to Konoha. More sure than he is of anything else in the world. But . . . But if something happened to Sasuke, if he had to choose—

And maybe it softens something in him too, along with the (honestly healthy) dose of fear. It forms a little crack in his shell, just enough to maybe, maybe let Madara through. Just a hair.

Or 2) we pull one of those "The conversation ends with them agreeing verbally but mentally they're on 2 VERY different notes."

Madara, nodding and looking at Itachi meaningfully: "Yeah it can be hard, but all we can really do is try to make the world a safer place for the ones we love. (To create Konoha, to keep my clan safe. Izuna safe. And now to keep you safe too.)

Itachi, nodding slowly: "Yeah. No matter how hard it is (even though I think I understand you more than anyone else Ive ever met) we have to try to make the world a safer place (by killing you in your sleep once Konoha is formed) for the ones we love (My clan. My village. Sasuke.)"

• Also pointing back at the 'Hatake warring clan era reputation,' the 'Tobirama is half Hatake' and also now pointing at Tobirama's title as the White Demon. Small thing but it'd be neat if there was some small throw away line that the nickname lowkey started in part because of the absoloutley terrifying reputation of the Hatake combined with Tobirama's own Everything(tm) like it just had some influence on how some view him. Give me Uchiha's making dog jokes ab him it'll be funny

• Ok but now the actual plot thoughts. Yeah I know I kept you waiting sorry about that.

So time travel! Probably due to a mission gone wrong. Some ruins or some ancient crumbling scroll that wasn't even supposed to do fucking time travel but was so old and corroded that it somehow managed to transform into a whole other seal by pure bad luck. Or good luck I guess, considering it could have just turned into a nuke.

Our favorite team of disasters are very very alarmed !!! What the fuck !!! Obviously they don't default to thinking time travel, but they immediatley know something is wrong. The landscape has changed, though the big landmarks are still there. The mission was complete anyways with no injuries so they just retreat to Konoha. Only oops !! It's not fucking there!!!

Queue alarm.

Shisui is the first one to suggest time travel because he's quirky like that. And there's a very easy way to confirm this theory.

(Also we're going to say that Konoha's location is a valley a few miles out from the Naka River that borders the Senju / Uchiha territories.)

This is convenient because that verification method involves checking in on where Itachi and Shisui know the old Uchiha compound should rest.

They do it in full stealth mode, the second they saw Konoha was missing Kakashi as team leader decided they'd treat the land as enemy territory. They all agreed ofc, for all they knew this WAS enemy territory now.

And, ofc, yeah!! There's the old Uchiha compound!! Being active!!! There are people there!!!

"What are the odds Fugaku-sama decided to have the clan return to their homeland for ahh, cultural enrichment?" Kakashi asked weakly.

"Time travel." Was the only reply he got from Shisui, whispered reverently as the boy vibrated with excitement on the branch.

Itachi just gave him a look, radiating a level of dissaproving disbelief that no normal 12 year old should be able to make. Kakashi would know, he was that not-normal 12 year old once.

From there they decide a no interference policy. Hands off guys!! They probably debate it tho, like, a good amount. They all have ✨️opinions✨️ except maybe Tenzo who's lowkey still in the middle of trying to learn how to be a person and is following Kakashi's lead 99% of the time. Especially since they're still in mission mode and this is like a super serious discussion and he really does know the least ab the founders overall.

They probably debate the merits of going to Uzushiogakure bc seal help but it's really far and they don't actually have like, just any leverage with them. They already decided not to fuck with the future so it isn't like they can trade secrets and warnings. At least if shit happens here they have some plausible deniability, being, yk, 2 uchiha's and a senju-passing guy with Mokuton. Kakashi's kinda fucked tho in that regard but he isn't going to be doing the party ANY favors with his clan heritage.

Which means it's time to potentially get desperate enough to interact with Tobirama !!! Which will inevitably lead to them bumping into a Uchiha patrol or something!!! I don't know honestly

• Anyways want Hashirama and Tenzo to interact. He has so many issues like holy shit. Let Hashirama give him the hug he deserves. I want him to violently adopt him. New brother acquired!!!

I said before but Tenzo is still reprogramming from ROOT. Let Hashirama impact that! Let him help! They can make flower crowns and photosynthesize together idk

Hashirama would be so happy to have another mokuton user, I think they should be able to sense eachother extra strong and like 'ping' off of eachothers chakra, it'll be fun

▪︎ I'm not thinking toooo hard about power scaling and this is fanfiction so a) don't quote me on this and b) for the love of all that is holy don't take my words as gospel

But for this fic specifically I'm ranking the founders and Team Ro, weakest to strongest (in a clean, fair fight head on w no time to prepare) :

Itachi (he's fucking 12 guys. But also he is like. FRACTIONS under Tenzo and Shisui. If he were 13 I'd let him be above or at the same level but like. He's 12. Cmon.)

Tenzo - Shisui (they're like JUST under the next 2 tho like seconds behind)

Izuna - Tobirama

Kakashi ( by the skin of his fucking teeth and the advantage that is his stupid amount of jutsu's and lack of self preservation)

Madara - Hashirama

And again that's not counting like. The specific situations, time given to prepare, potential dirty tricks they could play (I think the Konoha tricks would play a fraction dirtier than the others, who are slightly more used to big open battles vs the ANBU squad who does all sorts of shit in all sorts of places) plus like. Mental state and team ups.

Tenzo or Shisui couldn't take down Izuna or Tobirama but if they teamed up I'd allow it. Kakashi would get his ass kicked by Hashirama or Madara but he could survive a minutes longer than the others would

Itachi is doing his best

But like

He's 12 guys

I love him and he is terrifyingly competent but he won't win 1 on 1 with anyone unless he has some sort of advantage. Minus Shisui and Tenzo who he does have the advantage of regularly fighting, so.

• I think they do get to go back home in the end. It takes a ton of work tho and they probably do need to get Mito's help with it, Kakashi can show them the seal they got brought here with but it's an ACTUAL one in a trillion miracle it didn't fucking atomize them. So it needs a lot of touch ups

Anyways !!!

I have a little more rattling around in my brain but I'm really tired and also starting to think about other things now so I'm gonna stop here. Might come back and add to it later so stay tuned if you're into that

Full disclaimer I'm not gonna write this. I don't have the proper energy and it'd probably end up being too ambitious of a project if I tried. I'd love to see it happen tho, so like !! Big open invitation to absoloutley anyone who might want to take even a fraction of the ideas I've listed.

@ me if you do tho I wanna see the final product

[psychotic4ghost]

NNN but Simon's never heard of it until you tell him.

Simon had a smart phone but it was only so he could store photos of you and the occasional couples photo that you'd force him to take. But really he didn't have social media or even really knew how to use Google on the damn thing.

So when you ask him the first morning of November if he can successfully do no-nut-november, he gives you the cutest tilt of his head before asking what the fuck that is.

"No-Nut-November? You seriously don't know what that is?" You ask as you push against his chest to look at him. The two of you had been laying in bed that morning, not wanting to get up just yet. Your head was on his pectoral and his arm was wrapped around your back.

"No...should I know?" He asked as he tilted his head quizzically at you.

"It means not cumming for the whole month of November." You inform, biting back a giggle.

"That's stupid."

"You should try it."

"Why the fuck would I do that?"

"Cause it's fun." You think for a moment before continuing. "I bet you can't." You say with a coy tone, knowing he can't back down from a little challenge. Especially one given by you.

"It sounds easy." He grumbles. Your plan was working.

"Hm. Yeah? That just means you can't fill me." You can't help but let that giggle escape now.

You watch those gears turn in his head as he contemplates your words and the meaning behind them. "Deal."

The look of bewilderment on your face causes him to laugh now. You didn't expect him to take on the challenge especially after realizing he can't cum inside you as he so so so loves to do. It's like a ritual for the man, the deed isn't done till he's cum at least three times inside your gummy walls.

"You won't last!" You fight.

"Wanna bet?" He asks as he abruptly flips you over, pinning you to the bed with his broad chest. Your cheeks burn with fire as he begins teasing and kissing you.

By December first, just know you'd get the biggest, fattest cream pie of your life because when put to the challenge, Simon Riley does not back down. He did, in fact, win.

I wrote this on my phone cause I was smacked with the idea mid scroll. If you want the rest of November as content I shall consider writing it lol. But in the meantime, enjoy this lil tease <3

Main Masterlist

Masterlist

[beenbaanbuun]

fever w/ kang yeosang

words - an amount 🙂‍↕️

genre - hurt/comfort, sickfic

warnings - food avoidance because of illness, mentions of vomiting, reader is a little bratty but it’s the fever talking, yeosang is tired :((, not proof read

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“you need to eat something, baby,” yeosang grumbles, arm folded crossly over his half-exposed pecs. you can’t help but focus on the way he’s standing there in nothing but a tank top and some shorts while you’re sat shivering in one of the many hoodies that you’ve stolen from his closet. you’ve been blaming the fever for how cold you seem to be at the minute, but you’ve always ran a little colder than your boyfriend. whenever he needs a sweater, you need a sweater, a coat and a scarf. you’re just a little nesh, you suppose.

your eyes flicker around the kitchen, studying everything that crosses your vision. perhaps you could have some toast, you think as your eyes land on the half-finished loaf of bread on the counter. then you think about how heavy your stomach feels, even when it’s empty, and you realise that perhaps toast isn’t the best option. you turn your nose up and move on to the bowl of fruit that yeosang had just refilled this morning. the scent of the bananas alone is enough to make you feel sick, and perhaps the citrus fruits aren’t the best choice when you’ve been struggling to keep food down.

“i’m only going to throw it up again,” you argue, trying your hardest to make your expression pathetic and sad. you commit to it, bringing out the sad arched brows and the big wet eyes. your bottom lip juts out just a little and for extra effect, you can’t help but wobble it a little. for a moment of two, you’re almost sure it’ll work. yeosang’s eyes soften and his arms go limp and fall back to his sides. you’re almost positive that he’ll let you off with another day of medicine and water, you can practically feel it on your tongue—

“you don’t know until you try.”

your shoulders sink upon hearing your words and your features drop, expressing only apathy and defeat. sure, the puppy dog eyes have never worked on him before, but there’s a first time for everything. you were certain that this would be that time.

“yeosang!” you whine, trying to grab his attention as he turns to face the countertop. he whines your name back in exactly the same nasally tone you used. “please! my throat already hurts from all the acid; i just want one day where i don’t throw up. it’ll make me feel less miserable.”

he ignores you, lifting his phone from the counter and typing a few words into safari. you wish you could see i what it says, but from your position, huddled up on a dining chair—which you would only move from if a hefty bribe was offered your way—you can’t even dream of looking around his oversized torso.

damn him for getting buff.

“google says banana’s are goo—”

“no,” you cut him off, head shaking wildly like a petulant child.

“baby~”

“they smell bad!”

with a sigh, yeosang goes back to looking.

“dry brown rice?” he offers meekly, already foreseeing the outcome of his offer. he doesn’t even have to turn around to see your face screwed up in displeasure; it’s already so clear in his mind. “nevermind, it was a stupid suggestion.”

you hum in agreement, the small sound making him crack a small smile. despite being incredibly difficult, yeosang can admit that you do have your sweet moments while you’re feverish. your mind may be muddled and your body doing everything in its power to make your life a living hell, but you still somehow manage to put a smile on his face.

if he wasn’t desperate to not catch whatever 18th century plague has taken up residence in your body, he’d spin around and kiss you. squish your cheeks together like he always does when he wants to annoy you a little, bring your face up to his, and just kiss you. it’s almost impossible not to when he’s been missing out on the feeling of your lips on his for the past few days, but when he hears the sound of your stomach churning and a pained groan leave your lips, he remembers exactly why he’s doing this to himself.

“how about broth?” he suggests, putting his mind back on the task at hand, “you like broth, baby.”

he’s right, you do like broth. or at least you like it when you’re not feeling like satan himself has put his little tapdancing shoes on specifically to do a jig atop your stomach. instinctively you wrap an arm around your abdomen which after a short period of docility, has began to cramp again. that broth really doesn’t sound appealing right now…

“yeosang…” you say, dejected and miserable. he sighs, understanding exactly what you mean by saying his name in that tone of voice; it’s a disheartened no from you.

and while it pains him to be forceful with you—or anyone for that matter—he can’t just sit and watch you waste away over a poorly stomach. he has to put his foot down for once.

“baby, you need to eat,” he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. he hates being so bossy with you, almost as much as he hears the weary sound pass from your lips just after his soft command. “just a small bowl, okay? just for me; your yeosang?”

and while it’s an obvious guilt trip, a little bribe to make you feel a little bad about refusing to eat, you can’t help but fall for it. you sigh, wrapping your arms around your knees so you can pick at your fingers guiltily. it’s not like you can help being sick, but maybe you have been a little dramatic about the whole refusing to eat thing. sure, your stomach churns at even the thought of food, but yeosang is right; if you don’t try, you won’t know. the idea of throwing up again frightens you, but broth is a liquid; it’ll be easy to come back up.

you resign with a minuscule hum, so quiet it’s almost silent.

“fine,” yeosang hardly believes the word when you say it with so much resignation, “one small bowl of broth…”

[didyoulookforme]

need you tonight

part of give me a moment (aka stylist au as briefly described in this tag)

warning: 18+, smut. probably grammatical errors, typos.

au masterlist here

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“sorry—‘m sorry”

you’re pretty sure those are some of the only words that stumble past his lips as you go down on him. perhaps an apology for his ring getting tangled in your hair, trying to keep you close. but to be honest, the more cynical part of you hopes it's pure regret for fucking someone else just hours before.

it was not strange for you to crave a nicotine hit at this time, more often than not stepping out the bus to smoke a cigarette or two prior to calling it a night, that first inhale always making your head buzz a little as the all-too-familiar warmth runs through your limbs, a much welcome sensation to try leave the tiredness behind.

every day was like clockwork. bus arrives at the venue. stage and lighting are assembled. band soundchecks. you have a quick dinner. then it's time for him. after all, it's what you're here to do, work as matty's own personal stylist during the tour.

you had no clue luck had finally struck when you opened those dms earlier this year.

(13:43) trumanblack: hey (13:43) trumanblack: i found your profile via my friend (13:44) trumanblack: i really like your style n you look pretty cool

(13:58) trumanblack: sorry if this sounds creepy. promise i'm a real human tho (13:58) trumanblack: x

you didn’t recognize him. however from a swift scroll through the feed, you gathered that his name was matty. apparently the front man of a seemingly popular band with a fanbase head-over-heels lusting for them.

mostly him, though.

you couldn't help but gaze at his lanky frame and pale skin adorned with ink, zooming in on certain posts to try decipher what they were. he definitely had a point of view when it came to dressing himself, sometimes a bit messy and chaotic, but for the most part pleasing to the eye, a quality you appreciated given your line of work. his seemingly playful demeanour across photos made it seem like he was perhaps younger than you, this time a google search confirming that, in fact, he was born three years later. april 1989.

countless press photos appeared under his name and you spent the next half hour swiping back and forth between articles, finding him intriguing enough and giving you the surge of confidence to respond.

and that's basically why you're leaning against this tour bus now. the friendly banter with a stranger led you to travel the world and do what you enjoy most. the fancy clothes. the colourful glitz. the wild after parties. this stuff that you always dreamed about was somehow now your own reality that you often had to pinch yourself to ensure you weren't just passed out cold on the sofa back home.

however, this almost too good to be true gig also led you to fall for a guy, the same one whose collar you straighten almost every night.

the most fucking cliché story. some assistant falling for her boss just months after being hired. it actually makes you feel sickeningly stupid, embarrassed. still you can't seem to stop digging yourself deeper into a hole with every hour you spend caring for him, not being made any better by matty being nothing but affectionate towards you behind closed doors.

you know he’s the reason your nicotine addiction has increased tenfold, always finding yourself alone at this hour enveloped in smoke, part of you still wanting to pretend you do so to numb out the sleepless nights. took you a while to finally admit you did it as an attempt to cloud out any thought of him.

tonight’s really no different.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but it’s enough for the cold to start settling on your skin. perhaps it’s your queue to stop and go back in. you snub out your cigarette, watching the red embers fade just as a car rounds the corner. it halts to a stop only a few meters away, and you catch the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the murmur of voices filling the night air.

then you hear it. that unmistakable high pitched laugh that can pull you awake in a single second. him.

and, of course. you immediately know why.

you’d learned pretty early on this was a common end to the routine: matty picks up a girl at the gig, goes fucks her somewhere, and has her drop him off right after.

reminds you of the number of red and purple bruises you often cover up before his show. it wasn't rocket science figuring out the cause, yet he never really addresses it, choosing silence and averting his gaze as your fingertips dab foundation on tender skin, temporarily hiding any remains of nights prior.

you didn't even notice your eyes had closed. not until the car door slams shut, jerking them open just in time to see him blow a kiss in her direction. your heart fractures at the sweet gesture, but only hurts for a second before he's walking towards you, his stupid wide grin mending it better.

"didn't expect to see you out here.”

open button-up untucked. blazer over his shoulder. dark curls frizzy and disheveled. everything making it crystal clear he's just slept with someone else and still not you.

"only making sure you make it back alright so i can tuck you in." of course, you wish that were the case.

it's only a few seconds until he settles next to you, leaning over to kiss your cheek. soft lips gently brushing against your skin. the way he always greets you, but only when no one's watching.

"aren't you sweet, then?"

"trying my best." given the circumstances, it's pretty much all you can do.

he pulls out his beat-up cigarette box, flicking it open and offering you one. you decline, showing him the smothered tip of your own before finally tossing it aside.

"guess it must've been a pretty good time today," you lick the pad of your thumb before rubbing a lipstick mark off his jaw. it’s always ruby red or deep maroon. those same tones which he'll compliment you on. a similar shade you left on his lips the only time your mouth had been on his.

you finish cleaning the stains off his skin, matty murmuring a soft ‘thank you’ for having done so. it’s your turn to kiss his temple. “‘tis my job, you know? making sure you look good.” you should be mad, upset, have some sort of negative emotion. instead, you can’t help but have your heart intermittently flutter when he returns a sheepish smile, his arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you close.

neither of you say much, but that’s alright. you rest your head on the crook of his neck, noticing how nice it feels. how nice he feels. you see the chipped nail polish on his fingers. the wrinkled fabric of his flowered shirt. the dark hair down his torso. the unbuckled belt at his waist. it’s only then that jealousy creeps itself back in and suddenly your shoes seem all that more interesting than the man standing by your side.

"why do you do it, matty?" the sweetness of your voice never fails to mask the envy you actually feel. or at least you hope it does.

"hmm?"

"the sleeping around.” you finally lift your head to look at him, surprised that his pretty eyes were already on you. the toothy smirk is gone, though, replaced by a thin, expressionless line at his lips. he doesn’t owe you an explanation. you know that. thus why you’re surprised when he actually starts to talk.

"dunno, really.” he lights up another cigarette and you notice as he gets lost in his mind. “i mean, it’s kinda difficult to say no to sex or a blowjob when they’re literally throwing themselves at you.” he seemingly tries to joke, but you don’t have time for funny right at this moment.

instead you wonder if it’s actually that easy.

“let me do it, then.”

“so—sorry?” he chokes mid-drag.

“let me give you a blowjob just like those other girls do. just like she did,” you point at the ghost of that green car from before, “ just tonight.”

it’s like his face cannot figure out which expression to land on, flipping between confusion, surprise, and something else that reads between need and desire.

“what the fuck?” his voice is shaky and it stings when he pushes you aside, yet, he doesn’t try hard to put much distance between you two so it’s not difficult to invade his space, standing right in front of him until your face is a breath away from his. large, calloused hands grasp your shoulders tight, halting you from inching closer.

“don’t.”

“what’s the difference between them and myself, then?” seems like a simple enough question to you. “why can they have you and not me?”

but he has no answer, at least not one that he can properly voice. his hold on you starts to lessen, perhaps giving you some permission to let you do whatever you want.

you bring your hands up to his and pull them away, kissing his knuckles before placing them on your waist. an almost incoherent ‘fuck’ leaves his lips, and, as if on cue, his head falls back willingly, giving you the space to kiss his neck. the faint smell of her still on him.

“please let me,” you whisper against his skin.

it’s not even a question at this point.

his fingers dig into your hips as you look at him once more, now noticing a mixture of lust and care in those almond coloured eyes. for a minute there, you get lost in them, admiring how his pupils dilate when your hands find the button of his pants, and how they shrink back as you finally undo the zipper. you don’t want to waste any more time—you’ve already waited too long—so you slide your palm down his pants to grab his half-hard cock, his eyes instantly rolling to the back of his head when you wrap your fingers around him.

“is this okay?”

you take the buck of his hips as a confirmation, giving you the courage to spread the precum along his length. he feels nice. having him in your hand seems just right and you only hope that he won’t regret this when he wakes up next morning in bed.

tonight is your turn to suck on the skin alongside his jaw, the thought of having to cover your own marks making you smile.

“fuck, baby.”

you’re not sure if he even noticed that sweet name leave his mouth, but you like the sound of it, and it’s all it takes for you to drop to your knees, dragging his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his dick.

you look up at him once more, his left hand coming to tangle on your head, his other loosely holding his cigarette, almost done and fully forgotten. you kiss his tip, your gaze still not leaving his, thoroughly enjoying yourself as he bites his bottom lip each time your thumb hits that spot under the head of his cock. his scent is almost too much to bear so you take him in one go, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth. it doesn’t take long before he’s fully hard and hitting the back of your throat.

the plastic taste of latex is still on his skin. a sad reminder that you weren’t his first tonight. that maybe you are an afterthought. just another girl who he uses to make himself come. but at least it means you get to have him even if it’s just this one time.

matty. that’s all that’s on your mind. once again. somewhat difficult to not think about him when you’re sucking him off, those heavenly sounds coming from his mouth making your own slick drip down your leg.

you pull away to catch your breath, using your hand to keep stroking him, pleasantly surprised when he pulls on your hair each time your red fingernails graze the underside of his cock. you do it again and again until he breaks and fucks your hand, apologizing for not being able to help himself. it’s a sight you’ll commit to memory as long as you’re alive.

now that you’ve had a taste, it’s only so long you can go without having your lips around him. and that’s what you do, take him again, hands urging his hips to fuck your mouth. to fuck himself senseless in the hopes that you’ll be the one he turns to when he needs somebody else. he doesn’t deny your request, throwing away the wasted cigarette to guide you, setting a pace that allows him to stay steady on his feet.

purely drunk on him, you're barely aware when his phone vibrates in his pocket, matty muttering 'sorry' before grabbing and letting it drop onto the grass at your side. nosiness always gets the best of you, so you can't help but glance down, catching sight of a text from an unsaved number asking if he could fuck her again tomorrow.

you feel his hips falter. he knows you've seen it.

“’m sorry.”

this time it's a mix between a cry and a whimper. perhaps he did feel bad. perhaps some part of him did care about you in the way that you needed him to.

you reach back to place your hand on top of his, making him push your head further into him, to thrust into you until tears pool at your lashes just as he spills hard and fast down your throat. his taste overtakes every cell of your being as you swallow, feeling him soften against your tongue before you reluctantly pull away.

you didn’t even realize your knees were so sore until you stand up, not wasting a second to ask him is he's going to see her again the following night.

"do you want me to?" his thumb wipes away some of his cum off the corner of your lip. you reach out to suck it, slowly shaking your head in response.

he laughs nervously as his mouth clashes against yours, stealing both the air from your lungs. this wasn't the first time you’d kissed, but this wasn’t like before. the way he quietly moans against your lips. the softness of his fingers resting on your face. the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he pulls back.

"can i see you tomorrow, then?"

you could’ve sworn you heart stopped. can you truly believe those words after watching him leave you behind all those nights? the soft circles his thumbs draw on your skin do feel sincere, the reassurance you need to perhaps let him in, give him a chance even though you know it’s a slippery one.

it’s your turn to brush your thumb against his mouth, slowly pulling at the bottom lip and watching it bounce back up into place. you kiss him one last time before confirming 'okay', immediately turning to finally head back in. not wanting to linger for too long in case he changes his mind.

you catch his reflection on the mirror, noticing as he tucks himself in, and it’s that slight smile on his face which keeps you awake for hours on end.

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for this lovely anon here. thank you for the inspo :) <3

[josiewinters1999]

Don't Leave Me

Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Summary: Set after the events of X-men (00) Logan plans to leave the school, feeling he is unworthy of staying. Yet something... someone pulls him back...

Words: ~2.4k

Contains: fluff, angst, insecurity, Logan being sad (per usual), smoking, a hopeful ending

A/N: I see we are simping for Wolverine again... Y'all are lucky bc I been about this life. I've had this one loaded in the chamber (google drive) for many a year now... enjoy my friends and stay thirsty

What am I even doing here?

That question echoed in Logan’s head as he stared out across the lawn, elbows resting lazily on the stone balcony and cigar in hand. The strong smelling smoke encircled his head in a cloud, making his vision hazy. Blinded by his own vices, he hangs his head. 

He didn’t belong here, that much he was convinced of. This place was too good for him, too innocent, too pure, too… right. It was full of wonderful things that people like Logan were not destined to have. 

Stubbing out his cigar on the concrete, he stands, tugging his leather jacket out of its disheveled state and back into place. With a sigh, he looks out at the grass, glowing green and full of life. A group of students catch his eye, walking softly together, laughing with the giddy happiness only children could have. 

Logan wasn’t even sure why he had stayed so long to begin with. He’d been here for over three months now, pretending he belonged, pretending that he had any right to be there. The time for make believe was over now, though, and he needed to face facts that this mutant sanctuary was not meant for him. 

As he tries to walk away from the balcony, something in the back of his head stops him. Logan finds himself unable to move, a heavy weight settling in his heart. He was going to miss this place, but why? What did this place have over him, holding him hostage like it did? 

Heavy footfalls slowly fade in, the sound becoming louder and louder in Logan’s ears. Turning his head slightly to the entrance way behind him, he listens intently. Someone was coming, the sound of their feet on the wood hallways echoing loudly. 

It could only be one person. Of course it was her, who else would come to him in his time of need to taunt him of what he couldn’t have?

Her head peaked around the corner, peering out onto the balcony. At the sight of his rigid, leather clad, back, a slight sigh of relief escapes her. “Logan,” she flatly states, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” 

Funny she should say that, Logan thought. He was avoiding her everywhere today. The last thing he wanted to see before he left was a look of disappointment on her sweet face. 

Looking back to her, he acts surprised by her presence, as if he didn’t just hear her coming this way, “Hey,” he sighs, turning back out to the lawn in front of him. 

Her boots tap against the stone as she approaches him. Making her place next to him, her scent wafts through the air, replacing the harsh cigar smoke in Logan’s lungs. She smelled so fresh, so sweet, so warm. It was too much. 

She swallows, working up the courage to say what she had come all this way to say. Logan could feel her eyes on him and could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. “I…” she starts, trailing off. She stops, rethinking her words and trying again, “Someone told me that you were leaving.” 

This was the last conversation Logan had planned on having today. If there was one person, one person in this whole world, who could convince him to stay, it was her. It was part of the reason he was forcing himself to leave. Logan knew what was happening, what would happen if he wasn’t careful. It was hitting him like a ton of bricks and it was just too much. 

He sighs, nodding slightly, never once looking in her direction “Yeah,” he mutters, voice barely audible over the breeze in the trees beyond. She only shakes her head, “I… I don’t understand.” Of course she didn’t understand, he barely did himself. It was stupid of him to think that this was the right decision yet he couldn’t keep himself from going through with it. 

Raising his head, he glances to her out of the corner of his eye. Her face was contorted in the exact way he had imagined. Hurt, confusion, fear, it was all there, plain as day, etched into her blond brows. 

Pursing his lips for a moment, Logan huffs, “Sorry. I just… it’s time for me to get going on.” Intensifying her confused expression, she shakes her head. “‘Going?’” she repeats, “Going where?” 

It was a valid question, one he couldn’t answer for her. He really had no idea where he was going after his departure from the school. All he knew was that he couldn’t stay here, her presence choked him in a way he couldn’t take anymore. 

She watches him for a long while, waiting for the answer to her question that would never come. Instead, Logan just turns more, meeting her gaze full on. Hazel eyes meet hers, the latter sparkling like the stars. 

A lump forms in Logan’s throat, his chest clenching familiarly. Just being this close to her, it was becoming hard to breathe, hard to stand, hard to think. The only thing he could keep his focus on was her lips and the thought of what they might feel like. 

Her eyes scan his face, desperately trying to read him. It wasn’t something she was good at just yet, but she was getting better each day, Logan knew, and it scared him to death. If she saw him, really saw him, he’d fall completely victim to her, he’d have no choice.

Increasingly becoming frustrated with her lack of answers, she huffs, “Why are you doing this?” 

His hand tingled as he felt the urge to reach out and touch her. If only he could feel her skin on his hand one more time before he left, maybe he’d come to his senses and stay. Clenching his fist at his side, he grumbles, “I don’t belong here, sweetheart. You and I both know that.” 

As if she had been reading his mind, her fingers roughly grip his forearm, almost as if to pull him back to reality. “Yes you do,” she barks, “You belong here… with us.” 

Us. It was a word that Logan hasn’t been able to say in a very very long time. He was always alone, always cold, always empty. Right now, ‘us’ sounded like a hopeful promise, especially coming from her soft lips. 

Looking at her, watching her as she held on a little too tight to his sleeve, it all started to fall into place. She was here, she was warm, and she was so full of life. Everything about her felt like ‘us,’ even down to her god awful ugly sweater that unraveled more and more each time she wore it. 

Flexing his jaw, Logan grabs her wrist with his other hand. The cuff of her shirt rode up just enough to let his fingertips grace the skin of her pulse point. The heat radiated off her, flowing into him and directly into his chest. Taking a deep breath, he pulls his composure back, “No, I don’t.” The hostility in his words changes the look on her face. It softens, along with the grip on his arm. 

Retracting her hand from him, she blinks, unsure of what she was going to say. Logan only held onto her tighter, wanting to savor every last feeling of her, thinking it might be his last chance. 

She takes a few breaths, trying to force words to come out but not being able to. Finally, she stutters, unsure of herself as she speaks, “I… I thought you liked it here… I thought… you liked me. Aren’t we friends, Logan?” 

Not able to keep his face scrunched up in fake anger any longer, Logan’s eyes widen. It was getting harder and harder to hold what he was feeling back. He could feel his confession bubbling in his trachea, preventing air from coming into his lungs. 

If things were different, if life was different, if he wasn’t… him, he would tell her everything she so desperately wanted to know. He’d tell her he didn’t want to leave, that he wanted to stay- with her- in this dusty mansion for as long as she wanted. He’d tell her that she was the first person in over a lifetime that has given him any sense of belonging and hope in his sad, pathetic, freakish, life. 

Instead, he nods, his body moving on its own accord. “Yeah,” he answers, looking down into her sorrowful eyes, “we’re friends.” 

Biting her lip, she grabs the back of his palm with her free hand. As he grips onto her still, she encapsulates his fist in her warmth. Her touch was so soft, so light, Logan nearly gasped. He looks down to see her holding his hand, his fingers still wrapped roughly around her. Looking back up to her, he watches her as she begs, “Then stay, Logan.” 

Opening his mouth, Logan finds it hard to give her another excuse. There really wasn’t one, other than his own fear of what she was unknowingly doing to him the longer he stayed. “I… I can’t…” 

She grips him tighter, her force matching the one on her wrist. “Yes, you can,” she bargains, “I know that this place can be frustrating sometimes, and things can get a little crazy, but,” she pauses, swallowing her emotion down, “we take care of each other, and… if you let us… we’ll- I’ll… take care of you.” 

Logan’s chest tightens more than ever before. It felt like the world had fallen away, that time had stopped, that the only person that mattered, the only person that ever mattered, was her. The sparkle in her eyes surely was being mirrored in his as she gazed hopefully into him. Maybe if he stayed… maybe if he stayed with her longer… he could keep some of that sparkle. 

Biting her lip again, she breathes in sharply, “Please, Logan… don’t leave me.” 

Don’t leave me. 

It was the one thing he couldn’t do, no matter how much he tried. Even when he didn’t see her for days, she was still there, in the back of his mind, unyielding in her presence.

Finally, the fingers on her wrist loosen, eventually falling away. Her hands follow suit, going back to rest gently at her sides. With a strong, heavy hand, Logan cups her face, the act making her both jump and melt at the same time. 

His eyes dart to her lips, plump from her rough, nervous, biting, nearly quivering from the emotion coursing through her. Logan quickly wonders if now would be the time to do what he’d been thinking, dreaming, about for so long now. 

Logan tilts his head, his eyes becoming heavy as he leans in. His head starts to spin, the blood in his ears pounding louder than the sound of a jet plane. The space between them starts to lessen as he inches closer. He gets so close he feels her breath on his upper lip. 

Before he is able to touch his lips to hers, the feeling of her so close to him ends. He opens his eyes, seeing her leaned back comically far, an amused, yet very confused, look plastered on her face. “Logan,” she chuckles nervously, “what are you doing?” 

He stares at her for a moment, his cheeks a dark, hot, red, and eyes blinking rapidly. Logan follows her lead and leans back too, returning to his original position. Clearing his throat, he lets go of her, “Sorry, I just… I don’t really know what I was doing.” 

It was the truth, he had no idea what he was doing. He wanted to kiss her so, so, badly, it was truly his only wish at this point. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was likely due to the fact that something deep inside him told him if he even got the slightest taste of those soft lips, it’d be his complete undoing. 

The woman watches him for a moment, trying to scan his face for any sort of emotion she could read. Her eyes squint as she concentrates, something Logan found so destructively cute. 

With the softest of smiles pulling at the corner of his lips, he glances out back at the lawn. It shined so brightly, the sun illuminating it, making it look like the land itself was glowing with light and happiness. She wasn’t wrong when she said this place could be frustrating, but perhaps… if he had a hand to hold, he could navigate it just fine. 

Logan turns back to her, her eyes expectant for his next sentence. Her gaze may have been dark, but she was so full of brightness, Logan felt like maybe his future here, with her, might be something to look forward to. 

He sighs, reaching out to grab her forearm gently. The scratchy material of her sweater felt like home underneath his fingertips. “You know what...” he starts, grinning as her eyes widen, anticipating the end of his thought, “I think you’re right. I do belong here.”

She nearly gasped, tensing under his touch and sending a flutter into his heart. “You’re not going to leave then?” she asks, a little too eagerly. Logan only shakes his head, unable to stop the grin on his face, “Nope. I think I’ll give this place one more shot… As long as you stick around too.” 

The woman chuckles at his joke, nodding with great enthusiasm. “Of course, Logan. I’ll always be here for you. It’s what friends do.” Her smile grows so wide, her eyes nearly disappear in her joy. Logan chokes back a wanting sigh, the urge to kiss her bubbling back up inside him. 

With no warning, a pair of arms wrap themselves around Logan, her hair tickling the underside of his jaw as she wraps herself around him. The warmth from her being flowed through the fabric from her sweater and into Logan’s heart. 

Nearly fainting from the shock, Logan finds it hard to breathe with her pressed against him so tightly, yet, it all felt so right. Hesitantly, Logan finds himself returning her embrace, holding her against him, his head leaning itself against hers. 

She sucks in a sharp breath before muttering, “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d left, Logan. I would have missed you so much.” 

Swallowing hard, Logan chuckles, “I would have missed you too, darlin’. You have no idea…” 

[adrienneleclerc]

Do you think you can do a Carlos sainz jr imagine

Well YN is MMA fighter and I don't know they meet at one of her fights or at the gym however you want to put it I guess so yeah and I was the one who requested the Lewis Hamilton photographer one and I really liked that imagine in this very good so thank you very much xoxo 🇲🇽🫶🥰😘

Let’s see what I can do and I’m so glad you liked how the Lewis Hamilton imagine came out! I was a little worried there for a second

Love At First Fight

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. x MMA fighter! Reader

Summary: Carlos meets Y/N at the gym and end up sparring together

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: I have the idea in my mind, I can see it happening, can I put it into words? Let’s see. Also, sorry if it’s too short but I think it turned out cute for the prompt. Anyway, MY FIRST CARLOS SAINZ IMAGINE

Now that is is summer break and Carlos has announced he was going to Williams, he decided to go boxing with his trainer at the gym.

“Hola Carlos, ready to begin your session?” His trainer, Emilio asked.

“Of course, let’s get started, cabrón.” Carlos said. Him and Emiliowere doing some basic punching combos, Carlos was practicing his footwork, when he saw a woman walk in and immediately started using a punching bag. Since carlos was distracted, Emilio hit him upside the head.

“Focus, man, i thought you wanted to box today.” Emilio said.

“I do but who is that?” Carlos asked.

“You’re kidding.” The trainer said looking at the woman and back at Carlos. “I think it’s better if you stick to dating models.”

“Her name, cabrón.” Carlos said,

“Her name is Y/N L/N, she is an MMA fighter, she’s the UFC Featherweight champion for 2023.” Emilio said.

“You think I can spar with her?” Carlos asked.

“Ha! I’d like to see you try. L/N!” Emilio shouted, Y/N turned around.

“Gutiérrez, you know better than to shift my name in a public gym, what’s up.” Y/N said, walking towards the two men, taking off her gloves.

“My client here wants to spar with you.” Emilio said.

“Carlos Sainz, nice to meet you.” Carlos said, extending his hand, Y/N shook his hand.

“Think you can go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to Carlos so their noses were almost touching.

“Why not? I’ll give you the first shot.” Carlos said, Y/N stepped back, releasing his hand.

“Haha, okay, You’re confident, let’s see how confident you are in the ring.” Y/N said, walking toward the boxing ring they had further into the gym. Carlos was in shock but Emilio pushed him to start walking, Y/N was already inside the ring.

“Alright, I got these two helmets because Y/N would probably kill you since you suck at blocking.” Emilio told Carlos and Y/N snickered. “Y/N blue, you red.” They put on their helmets and Y/N put in her mouth guard. Emilio helped Y/N and Carlos lace up their gloves. “Great, touch gloves, and spar.

Carlos severely underestimated how it would be like to spar Y/N. You know how people feel pretty stupid one they find out Formula 1 is a serious sport and that driving a kart at 300 kilometers an hour isn’t easy? Carlos is feeling really stupid for wanting to spar with a UFC featherweight champion when he only boxes every other week (probably). Y/N was obviously winning, at one point, Y/N was straddling Carlos and had his wrists pinned to the mat until Emilio called time. Carlos winked at Y/N before she got off him and helped him up.

“Gotta hand it to you, pretty boy, you did pretty well for an F1 driver.” Y/N said.

“You know who I am?” Carlos asked.

“Well i obviously had to google you after meeting you since you’re Emilio’s client.” Y/N said,

“Well since I already had you on top of me..” Carlos started and Y/N laughed “..do you want to get lunch right now? I’ll pay.”

“That sounds great, I’ll shower and change so we can go.” Y/N said,

The End

Hope y’all liked it!