#It was fast to get Four looking in a way I liked him but I redrew Legend 3 times and I still hate how he turned out kdmdj but byee
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mediumgayitalian · 2 days ago
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When Cecil walks into the infirmary, bleeding sluggishly and grinning sheepishly, he notices three things in quick succession:
1) It is crowded.
2) It is ridiculously loud.
3) It reeks, absolutely reeks, of peppermint.
His smile fades fast.
He moves, elbowing through the throng of neon orange, to the nurse's station, shoving a poor, innocent satyr to lean against the counter, searching. It takes a minute to find a shock of green hair under the actual piles of paperwork.
"Kayla," he says urgently, excavating her just enough to make eye contact. "Where's Will?"
"Uuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhh," she groans, reburying herself. "Fix your own problems! Why is everyone always so concerned with their own mortality!"
"Well," responds Cecil, not sure how to respond to that. "Well, it's urgent. I need to talk to him."
"So do five bajillion others! Get in line!"
Five bajillion others do appear to be in some kind of squashed up, unserious line. Cecil is in the infirmary a lot -- for a myriad of reasons, but for alibi purposes it's because that's where his best friend essentially lives -- but he doesn't see crowds like this often. At least, not this lively. Usually when there's a crowd like this it's accompanied by silence and strict suicide watch.
"What's going on?"
Kayla groans again. There are bags under her eyes, Cecil notices. This is unusual.
"It's the full moon, I guess."
"And -- what, vampirism is on the rise?"
"That's werewolves, you dumbass. And no."
She looks at him like he is dumb. Cecil stares back intently, because he is. She will have to use her words.
She does, rolling her eyes. (Jeez. He does not envy the head counsellors at this camp. If he had to attitude manage thirteen-year-olds for even one hour he would kill himself.) "Injuries and illnesses increase during full moons, for some reason. Although this is worse than normal."
"Okay." The general crowd noise coalesces, several people shrieking over -- something. Cecil winces, nodding to himself. Fuck. Fuck. "Okay, that's -- thanks, Kayla. I'll find him."
"If you see him, tell him I want a raise! By four trazillion percent."
"I'll -- pass that on."
He pushes his way back through the crowd, and it's harder this time. He can see three more people slip through the doorway, and it's ridiculous. Most of them aren't even scratched. He sees a group of Ares kids in permaglitter, glaring at a group of giggling Aphrodite kids with no visible malady. Annabeth Chase sits rolling her eyes on a free cot, holding her broken wrist, her boyfriend fussing over her. Nine of Cecil's own siblings are sprawled about with various gashes and bruises. He nearly trips over Clovis Yanam, who is passed out in the middle of the floor, snoring.
"J -- Jesus," Cecil curses, swiping a hand down his face. The smell of peppermint is worse, somehow, when he takes his hands away; his eyes burn anew and even his nostrils feel singed. He would be convinced it was all in his head if there weren't several people with their shirts over their noses.
"Reeks, huh," comments Malcolm Pace, as Cecil rushes past. "Smelt it all the way across the common. Must be the Vicks."
It's not. It's not the fucking Vicks, and Cecil knows that, because this smell is more familiar than it should be and he hates it, he can't fucking stand it. This peppermint is sharp and oily and comes out of a vial that Will keeps in his pocket and has since he was nine. This peppermint means quiet. This peppermint means ice packs and cold compresses, this peppermint means a still cabin and crying audible through pillows.
He trips over a bedpost and has to bite his lip, hard, to keep from shouting. He takes a second, burying his face in his hands, and breathes, in, out. He lets the noise wash over him. He plants his heels on the old floorboards, swallowing hard. In. Out. He squeezes his burning eyes.
He exhales, long and heavy, dropping his hands and turning his face to the ceiling. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking, focusing on the popcorned white.
"Alright," he whispers to himself. "Alright, we're good. We're good."
He isn't usually this stressed. He isn't usually forcing himself to unclench his jaw, blinking back frustrated tears. He doesn't usually jump to 100 this quickly.
The peppermint isn't usually this strong.
Right as he is about to stick a washcloth in a bottle of rubbing alcohol and clear out the building, consequences be damned, he catches a flash of blond hair. He beelines toward it, praying to his father for speed, and has to stop a good three feet from his swaying friend, nearly gagging at the potency of the smell.
"Will," he manages, breathing through his mouth. It burns there, too. "Will, dude, you gotta call it quits."
Will continues -- something. Doing something. Cecil walks around him, elbowing at least two people out of the way, and grabs both his wrists, waiting until he stops struggling.
"Get off."
"Will. I'm serious. Enough is enough."
Any other day, Will would twist out easy. Cecil knows it. Lotta folks think Will is some -- some goober, who can't hold his own, but Cecil grew up with the fucker. He was there when he gained two clean feet of height in one summer. He was there as the muscle developed. It was infuriating. He knows just how nasty Will's left hook can be.
He also knows the migraines make him weak.
"People. Busy. Get off."
He tugs, again, and Cecil lets him, following him closely behind. He stumbles towards the nearest cot, smiling weakly at Lacy. She smiles back, looking worriedly at Cecil as soon as Will focuses on her banged up knee. Cecil shrugs.
"...Hey, Will."
Will hums.
"You, uh. There's a whole lot of aura coming off you right now."
Will snorts. Cecil smiles, slightly, at the accidental pun, shaking his head when Lacy lifts an eyebrow.
"'M okay."
He coughs as soon as he says it, scratching at his throat. Lacy doesn't blink, because there's no way she knows what that means, but Cecil sighs, resisting the urge to smack his head against the wall.
He's not -- Cass. He's not Lee. He doesn't know how to make Will listen to him, how to make Will care. He doesn't get it, either. He twisted an ankle slightly at the beginning of the summer and has been leveraging it to get out of chores for three and a half straight weeks. He's never had migraines, not like Will's, but he's seen enough of the tensing, of the twitching eyes, the grey faces and swaying on his feet to make a pretty educated guess.
Sometimes, he hates being a half-blood.
"It's not that bad," Lacy says quietly, snapping Cecil's attention to her. She places a gentle, manicured hand over Will's, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. "I can get ice and rest up, hey? You look exhausted. Maybe it's time to rest."
Will hesitates. Cecil holds his breath, hoping. Maybe it's just Cecil. He's never been particularly good with his words. Maybe he'll --
A weak, pulsing flash of light envelops Lacy's knee, fading almost as quickly as it came. Will sways. Lacy frowns.
"Honestly, Will. I shouldn't have even come in."
"No, it's -- fine." He stands, and nearly stumbles right into a shelf, Cecil darting out at the last second to steady him. "You should always come in when you're hurt."
He walks off, or tries to. Cecil follows, holding firm to his wrist, waving apologetically to a still-frowning Lacy as they drift by.
"Okay," he says, when she finally heads out. "Okay, dude, enough is e --"
"Is what, Cecil?"
Will wrenches his hand free, whirling around to face him.
"Is it time? For me to head back to the cabin and crawl in bed and just sit in pain for the next several hours? The next however many more days? To just curl up and cry? I'm fucking -- I'm tired, Cecil. I'm tired of crying, I'm tired of throwing up -- throwing up fucking nothing, by the way -- I'm tired of feeling my heart beat in my fucking eyeballs I'm tired of seeing flashing lights and passing out and I'm just fucking -- I'm done! I don't want any more of it! I just want it to stop, and it won't stop, so I just want to work! I want to do something that isn't sitting in -- in fucking peppermint!" He pauses, breathing in deep, holding it, screwing his eyes shut. "I fucking hate peppermint!"
The force of his shout echoes through the crowded infirmary.
Cecil stares at him, wide eyed, as he puts his face in his hands, drops to the floor, and starts to cry. Quiet, shaking sobs, shoulders wracking, tears leaking out between his fingers; Cecil, lump in his throat, slides down across to him.
Horsehooves echo in the thick silence.
"Anyone who is not actively dying," calls Chiron softly, "get out. Clovis, you stay."
Murmurs and footsteps swell as dozens of people. for perhaps the first time in their lives, quickly and quietly follow orders. Cecil keeps his eyes trained on his best friend, blinking away the blurriness of his eyes. Two sets of footsteps approach the edge of Cecil's vision, one horse, one slippered.
"May we sit?"
Cecil doesn't move. Will, after a moment, nods.
"How many days, now, child?" asks Chiron kindly. He reaches out a strong hand and rests it gently on Will's head, sliding his fingers through dull curls.
Will holds up a hand, five fingers splayed.
"Fucksake," Cecil mutters, scratching his nose. "Say something day one, dude."
"To what end?" Will's voice is muffled in his knees. "You gonna snap your fingers and magic it away?"
"Something can be done," Chiron chides. "Five days is too long to be in pain, Will."
"It's psychosomatic and you fucking know it," Will snaps. For a second his eyes are clear, glaring as he lifts his head, but it fades just as quickly. The exhaustion leeches the color right out of him. "If it could be healed it would have been healed when Lee was around."
"Just because your brother couldn't fix it does not mean it cannot be fixed."
"Yeah, right."
Will winces again, hands flying up to press against his eyes. Cecil looks over at the centaur, resting his cheek on his knee.
"If it helps, he's always this mean when he's hurting," he offers. He smiles slightly at the scowl he can feel Will sending his way. "It's kind of nice. I never get to see bitchy Will."
"Bitchy Will is the only Will you're ever going to know for the rest of your life, you quisling."
"Quisling?!"
Chiron smiles wryly. "You have your father's inkling for the dramatics, don't you." He shakes Clovis, who has passed out against his flank, gently awake. "Up, my boy. We need your skills."
"Sure thing," Clovis yawned. "How long you wanna be out? A week? Two?"
Will peeks a wary eye open.
"I have a shift tomorrow morning."
"Not happening," Cecil and Chiron say together.
Will sighs. "Sleeping won't make them stop."
"But you won't feel it when you're out."
"...Fine." He lifts his head up, slowly, and scooches over to Clovis. "No more than a day."
Two, Chiron mouths, over his shoulder. Clovis nods.
"Just close your eyes," Clovis says. "Good. Imagine a sheep, in front of you. Can you do that?"
"Yeah."
"'Kay. Hold it gently, around the forelegs. Grab a pair of clippers."
Will's hands curl carefully.
"Imagine shearing it, okay? Stripe by stripe."
Will obeys, too tired to keep fighting. He moves his hands slowly, rhythmically, and Clovis keeps a careful hand over his head. Slowly, the shadow from his hand grows over Will's head, covering his shoulders, his arms, his hips. Will's movements start to slow, and then, as the shadow ghosts over his knees, stop, and he tilts suddenly forward. Cecil darts out to catch him.
"Thanks," he whispers, throat dry. "I, uh, can't carry him, though. He's six-two and I have a twisted ankle."
"I'll get him."
Chiron stands slowly, careful of his hurt leg, and hovers for a minute, hands on Will's shoulders.
"We will have to figure out a lot more than this," he murmurs, exhaling deeply. "You cannot go on like this, child."
He picks Will up with careful, paternal hands, twisting to rest him gently on his back. He stands so that his hooves don't creak the old floorboards.
"Thank you, Cecil."
Old, serious brown eyes are turned suddenly upon him, and Cecil looks back, frozen.
"He needs someone to look out for him. You do well."
The centaur turns and walks lightly out of the infirmary, ducking through the low entryway.
The smell of peppermint fades into something sweet and gentle.
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binisainz · 1 day ago
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does this feeling go both ways ? ⸻ lando norris x reader ⋮ part three .
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“kit-kat.” the nickname is so familiar, so easy, and it makes your stomach flip in a way that is so utterly humiliating that you have to set down your chopsticks before you snap them clean in half. “that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard you say.” you bristle. defensively, out of habit, you go: “oh, fuck off.” or, the amylaurie au.
part  one,  two,  three,  four. word  count.   5.2k a  study  on.   non-linear  storytelling,  words  lifted  straight  from  the  little  women  (2019)  script,  gifted  kid  burnout,  stem  girlie!reader,  mechanic!reader,  childhood  friends  to  strangers  to  friends  to  lovers,  angst  with  a  happy  ending  (!!),  rooting  so,  so  hard  for  the  anti-hero. author's  note.   LANDO  NORRIS  P2  !!!  i  already  told  myself  i  was  going  to  post  a  chapter  today  immaterial  of  the  results  but  we  got  a  1-2  on  mclaren  baby  !!  makes  me  want  to  write  a  piastri  series  so  bad  …  but  i  digress  !!  u  might  wonder  why  do  i  wanna  know  is  constantly  in  the  mixtape,  and  that's  because  that's  where  the  title  comes  from  !  +  sorry  folks  this  chapter  is  all  angst  .  i  would  like  to  say  that  this  touches  reaaalll  heavy  on  the  burnout  part  of  gifted  kid  burnout.  i'm  shaking  y/n  by  her  shoulders  going  it's  so  hard  to  root  for  you  right  now  please  just  get  out  of  ur  own  head  !!   but  whatever  !  i  promise  u  all  a  happy  ending  (and  then  some  …  hehe  u  shall  see  soon.) mixtape.   do  i  wanna  know  cover  by  hozier,  anti-hero  by  taylor  swift,  quarter  life  crisis  by  taylor  bickett,  leonard  cohen  by  boygenius,  i'm  worried  it  will  always  be  you  by  katie  gregson-macleod,  backburner  by  niki.
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NOW, 2024.
it starts with a text. and then another. and then another.
lando keeps his word. and maybe he shouldn’t, maybe it would’ve been easier if he hadn’t. if he had let that conversation in the park be the last of it, let your history fade into the sort of polite nothingness that most childhood friendships do. but no. he texts, sometimes even calls— stupid shit, mostly. memes, half-assed updates about whatever press work he’s stuck doing, complaints about travel schedules, about media duties.
he asks about your classes, about the internship, about whether or not you’ve had a proper meal today. you roll your eyes every time, but you still answer, still make time between your last assignments and your shifts at the mclaren office.
it’s pre-season, so maybe that’s why. maybe he’s just bored, filling the gaps of his time with your presence, the same way someone mindlessly taps a pen against the edge of a desk.  it’s just because he has time, because he’s in between media duties and training sessions, because he’s restless, because you’re the easiest option. once the season starts, he’ll forget. he won’t mean to, but he will. the texts will slow, the calls will stop, and you’ll be left replaying voice notes just to hear him say your name. it’s fine. whatever. it’s not like you need him to stay.
but then, one night, your phone vibrates against the stack of notes you’ve been trying— and failing— to organize, and it’s him.
from: lando n can i come over
you blink. stare at your phone. type out a response, then delete it. then type out another one. then delete that too. finally, you settle on:
to: lando n what do u mean ‘come over’
three dots appear, disappear, reappear.
from: lando n look out your window from: lando n i actually DO hope this is ur flat because i’d be really embarrassed if i was standing outside some rando’s window
you push your chair back so fast it scrapes against the floor, legs catching on the warped wood. when you yank open the window, he’s there, standing on the pavement, takeaway bag in one hand, phone in the other. he looks up, grins. lifts the bag like an offering.
“what the fuck?” you say, but you gesture toward the door anyway.
he’s on the other side of the door when you open it, grinning wildly, all teeth, and holds up the bag of food like an offering. “thought you’d be hungry.”
you let him in because— well. because you do. because he’s already here, because it’s easier than standing in the doorway arguing, because you don’t actually want him to leave. “you need to stop bribing me with food,” you say, shutting the door behind him.
“why would i stop if it keeps working?”
he says it so easily, like it’s a joke, like it’s just that simple. like you’re someone he wants to keep around. you snatch the takeaway bag out of his hand and ignore the way your stomach flips.
your flat isn’t much. just a studio, one barely-big-enough rectangle with a kitchenette, a couch, a too-small dining table buried under half-finished projects and old racing magazines that date as early as july, 2014. 
you never bothered decorating. never saw the point. mclaren was supposed to be temporary, and it’s not like you expect to be called back after graduation. you’re just here to do your time, finish the internship, figure out what’s next. even thinking about asking lando to put in a good word for you feels ridiculous— because he would, because he’s like that, and because it would just prove what you already know: you’re not good enough to make it on your own.
lando doesn’t seem to care about any of that, though. he drops onto the floor beside your coffee table without hesitation, already pulling open containers, and you follow, sitting cross-legged beside him, feeling too aware of yourself, of the space you take up. it’s stupid, feeling embarrassed when he’s the one who showed up at your place unannounced, but still. it’s kind of the principle of the matter.
you don’t know how the conversation gets there. or maybe you do, maybe it was inevitable, because he’s lando and you’re you and there are things you don’t say but still feel so achingly obvious.
but it starts with the season. his, not yours.
“so,” you say, through a mouthful of rice, “do you actually think the car’s going to be better this year, or is this just the yearly pre-season delusion?”
lando makes a wounded sound, clutching at his chest. “kit-kat, you hurt me.”
“don’t dodge the question.”
he sighs, leaning back on his palms. “i mean… yeah. i think so. hope so. but it’s always a gamble, isn’t it? you never really know until you’re actually out there.”
you hum. “and what if it’s shit?”
he grins. “then it’s shit. but at least i’ll look good driving it.”
you roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches. “that’s the most lando norris thing you’ve ever said.”
he nudges your knee with his own. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
it’s not. you don’t say that, but it’s not.
you’re halfway through your spring roll when he turns the question on you.
“what about you?”
you blink. “what about me?”
“what’s next?” he asks, and there’s something too earnest in his tone, “after you graduate. what are you going to do?”
the question is simple. so simple. “i don’t know,” you say, too nonchalantly, shoving another bite into your mouth. “probably go home.”
lando frowns. “you’re not staying with mclaren?”
you snort. “why would they keep me?”
“because you’re good?” he says, matter-of-factly.
you don’t know why it grates on you, why it makes something bitter rise in your throat. maybe because you don’t believe it, not really. maybe because he does.
“i’m a failure.” you don’t mean to say it, but it slips out anyway, quiet and raw and ugly. you don’t look at him, just stare at the mess of containers on the coffee table. “josie is off in new york making an actual difference, and i’m a failure.”
lando flinches, just a little, at josie’s name. barely noticeable, but you catch it anyway. you wish you hadn’t said anything.
“that’s a pretty big statement to make at twenty-one,” he says instead, setting down his chopsticks. “and while interning for mclaren.”
you let out a humorless laugh. “well, oxford took all the vanity out of me, and the mclaren program made me realize i’d never be a genius.” the words come out before you can stop them, before you can filter them into something less pathetic. but it’s late, and you’re exhausted, and maybe you don’t care as much as you should. “so i’m giving up on all my foolish hopes.”
lando just looks at you, head tilted, brows drawn together like you’ve said something particularly insane. “seems like a waste of your talent and energy.”
you snort. “but talent isn’t genius. and no amount of energy can make it so.” you push a stray grain of rice around with your chopsticks. “i want to be great, or nothing. and if i can’t have that, why should i even try?”
there’s a silence. a heavy one. he looks at you, properly looks at you, and you wonder if he’s seeing right through all the ways you’ve tried to make yourself small.
and then— “kit-kat.” the nickname is so familiar, so easy, and it makes your stomach flip in a way that is so utterly humiliating that you have to set down your chopsticks before you snap them clean in half. “that’s the dumbest thing i’ve ever heard you say.”
you bristle. defensively, out of habit, you go: “oh, fuck off.”
but he doesn’t. he keeps looking at you, keeps holding your gaze like he actually gives a shit about what you just said, and it throws you off balance more than anything.
“i mean it,” he says, voice even. “you always used to go on and on about how things worked— cars, engines, whatever— and you knew everything about them. like, to a terrifying degree. that doesn’t just go away. you’re good at what you do.”
you press your lips together, suddenly feeling small in a way you don’t like. “you haven’t seen me in years. you don’t know that.”
“doesn’t matter.” he shrugs. “i still believe it.”
you don’t know what to do with that. with the way he says it so simply, like it’s fact. like his belief in you is solid, unshakable, something you couldn’t undo even if you tried. it’s the kind of certainty that used to come so easily to you— when you were younger, when everything was laid out in neat little steps, when you could open up a manual and follow it piece by piece and end up with something that made sense. there was an answer for everything back then, a method to follow, a way to be right. you had been good, then. not just good— great. brilliant, even. just like lando had called you.
but somewhere along the way, something shifted. the equations got messier, the answers became less certain. talent wasn’t enough anymore. you were supposed to push further, aim higher, but every time you did, it felt like you were grasping at something just out of reach. and then, eventually, you stopped reaching. because it was exhausting, because the effort felt pointless, because maybe— maybe— you had never actually been that great to begin with. maybe they had all just been wrong about you.
that’s what oxford did to you. tore you down, stripped you of whatever confidence you used to have, made you look at yourself in the mirror and see someone painfully, infuriatingly average staring back. and mclaren— oh god, mclaren only made it worse. because now, you weren’t just average. you were below average. surrounded by people who were actually brilliant, people who could take apart an engine and put it back together with their eyes closed, who could run calculations in their heads before you could even pull out a pen.
so no, you don’t believe him when he says you’re good. because you know better now. you know that being good isn’t enough. great or nothing, right?
and that’s the worst part, isn’t it? because he believes it. and the fact that he does makes something ache deep in your chest.. it would be easier if he just let it go, if he let you disappear into your own insignificance the way you’ve been trying to for years. but no— he sits here, in your tiny flat, looking at you like you’re still that eight-year-old kid who used to explain aerodynamics to him using the pieces of a half-disassembled toaster.
like he still thinks you’re brilliant.
you shift, uncomfortable, needing to change the subject before you start to believe him. “you’re actually an idiot if you drove a sports car all the way here.”
he scoffs, rolling his eyes, but there’s something in the curve of his mouth that gives him away— amusement, maybe, like he knows exactly what you’re doing, how you’re dodging the weight of his words, but he lets you get away with it anyway.  “oh, shut up. it’s in the parking lot if you wanna go look at it.”
you roll your eyes but get up anyway, making your way to the window near your bed. he follows, falling into step beside you, close enough that his shoulder almost brushes against yours.
when you peer down, the lamborghini miura p400 sticks out like a sore thumb, sleek and ridiculous and so incredibly orange among the rows of sensible, ordinary cars. you almost laugh. of course he fucking would. “jesus christ,” you mutter. “you actually drove all the way to woking in that?” you ask, more for something to say than anything else.
“course i did.” his voice is laced with amusement, and you don’t even have to look to know he’s still grinning. “what else was i gonna take? the bus?”
you shake your head, and when you turn back around, lando’s already making himself comfortable on your double bed, arms stretched behind his head, ankles crossed. like he belongs here. like this is easy.
“no outside clothes allowed.” you say, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind, because your brain is scrambling, because your face is growing hotter and hotter.
he barely lifts his head, just smirks at you, all lazy and self-satisfied. “i’m sure you can make an exception for me.”
your stomach twists, and you whip a pillow at his face without thinking. he dodges, laughing, and you roll your eyes so hard it nearly hurts. he’s still sprawled out on your bed, utterly at ease in a way that makes your skin prickle, like he belongs here, like he’s not intruding at all. like you’re the one who should feel out of place.
you don’t know why you let him in. you don’t know why you keep letting him in.
there’s a beat of silence. you hear him shifting behind you, the rustle of fabric, the creak of your mattress as he moves. then, his voice, casual, teasing: “you gonna stand there all night, or are you actually gonna sit down?” again, you think, with a twinge of fond annoyance, like he owns the place.
you glance back at him, scowling. “you’re taking up all the space.”
he lifts his hands in mock surrender, smirking. “fine, i’ll move.” except he doesn’t. if anything, he spreads out even more, one arm behind his head, the other now draped lazily over his stomach.
you exhale sharply, pressing your fingers to your temple. you should kick him out. you should tell him to go. but your bed looks warm, and the weight of the evening is pressing down on you, and the thought of sitting alone in your too-quiet flat, left alone with your thoughts, makes your stomach twist.
so you sit at the edge of the bed first, testing the waters. he doesn’t say anything, just watches you, the amusement in his expression tempered with something softer, something unreadable.
your legs feel stiff, so you stretch them out, curling your toes against the fabric of your blanket. then, carefully, cautiously, you shift backward, lying down with a sharp exhale, as if the movement itself is something to be endured. you stay on your back, arms folded loosely over your stomach, your entire body tense like you’re expecting him to comment on it.
he doesn’t.
instead, the silence stretches, comfortable, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside. you focus on the overhead light, how it flickers slightly, how the buzz of it fills the quiet.
lando looks at you. you can see in your periphery, his eyes flickering over your face, your expression, and for a second, it feels like he sees too much.
“hi.” he says, softly.
your chest feels tight, breath catching, forcing yourself to turn, to look at him, really look at him.
you swallow, heart in your throat. “hi,” you whisper back.
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THEN,  2017.
the wind is soft, curling through the new grass, the spring sky is a half-hearted shade of blue, still too stubborn to let go of the winter season. you’re on the swingset, not swinging, just letting yourself rock slightly, toes digging into the dirt. it’s still too cold to really enjoy it, but you like being outside. you like the quiet.
inside, you can hear them. not the words, exactly, just the shape of the argument. the sharp-edged rhythm of josie’s voice, the shorter, clipped replies from lando. it’s almost funny. in a not-funny way. lando doesn’t argue. he complains, sure, he whines, but he doesn’t fight back like this. not usually.
you don’t need to hear what’s being said to know how it ends, so you don’t listen.
instead, you focus on the wildflowers pushing up from the ground, the ones by the gate, sprouting in uneven clusters like they couldn’t quite agree on where to grow. people think flowers are delicate, soft, but they’re not, you know they’re not. they’re engineered for survival, roots gripping tight, petals opening and closing like moving parts in a machine. people think they just bloom because it’s spring, because the sun is out, because it’s pretty. but it’s all a process, isn’t it? cause and effect, survival instincts older than anyone could trace.
you wonder if you should be learning something from them.
because you know you’re smart. not in a vanity kind of way— just in a fact kind of way. you always have been. tests have always been easy, classes have always been something to ace without thinking too much about it. it’s never been a question. but it turns out there are things in life that don’t follow the exact science, things that aren’t a matter of logic or problem-solving. like the way people can leave. like the way they can decide, one day, that they don’t want you in their life anymore. like the way you can like someone, really like someone, and it won’t change a single thing.
the door slams.
the sound pulls you from your thoughts, but you don’t look up right away. you already know who it is.
lando moves like he doesn’t want to be seen, shoving his hands into his pockets as he steps off the porch. his head is down, his shoulders tense. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just another restless boy with nowhere to go. but you do know better.
he doesn’t say anything. neither do you.
instead, you watch him from the corner of your eye as he walks across the lawn, kicking at a stray pebble like it personally wronged him. you don’t need to ask what happened. you don’t need to hear it. josie made her decision.
and it’s stupid, it’s so incredibly stupid, but all you can think, for one terrible, selfish second, is: i wouldn’t have done that if you asked me.
but he didn’t. and he won’t.
you grip the rusted chains of the swingset a little tighter, feeling the rough metal bite into your palms. it’s grounding, in a way— simple, tangible, something you can hold. something that makes sense. not like this. not like him.
because here's the thing: you understand machines better than you understand people.
machines are easy. they break for a reason. they wear down from friction, from heat, from stress applied in the wrong places. there’s always an answer, always something you can point to— a clogged filter, a part too old and rusted to function anymore. but people— people are different. unpredictable. people leave for no reason at all. they look you in the eye, say things you want to believe, and then walk away before you can decide if you should.
machines, you can fix.
lando, you don’t know how to help.
you stand from the swing, stretching out the stiffness in your legs. this is probably the last time you’ll see him in a while. maybe ever.
it’s an in-between. the moment before something ends, the breath before something is lost.
he’ll leave, because that’s what he does. you’ll stay, because that’s what you do. another in-between.
he lifts a hand in a half-hearted wave, barely looking back.
you wave back, even though he doesn’t see it, doesn't see you, then turn and walk inside.
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NOW, 2024.
the bed is too small for two people. the company housing you’ve been stuck in for months now is cheap, everything here barely above the standard, bare minimum functional. the mattress is thin, the pillows aren’t much better, and the heater has been broken for the past few days, kicking in and out like it can’t make up its mind.
but you’re warm, and you’re not sure if it’s because the heater decided to cooperate for once or because lando is here, lying next to you, his arm tucked under his head, his curls pressed awkwardly against the pillow.
the mechanic in you wants to test the hypothesis— press your cold toes against his shin, see if he jolts away or if the heat lingers, trace a hand against his wrist, against the veins that press up faintly against his skin, check his pulse, compare it to the way your own heart is beating too fast for a moment like this.
but you don’t. because you’re sososososososoooooo normal. and sane. and completely, absolutely unaffected by him being here.
lando says something, something stupid and sarcastic, and you huff out a laugh, shaking your head against the pillow. it feels almost normal, almost like before, like you’re fifteen again and he’s still the boy with the stupid grin and the easy charm, and you’re sitting next to him, rolling your eyes, pretending you’re not laughing at his dumb jokes when you always are.
“what?” he asks, the corner of his mouth twitching, and you shake your head again, pressing your face into the pillow for a second before looking at him.
“you’re so fucking annoying,” you tell him, and he gasps dramatically.
“me? me?” he says, putting a hand over his chest like he’s offended. “this is how you treat me? after all these years?”
“you always do this,” you grumble, not meeting his eye.
“do what?”
“make me laugh when i don’t want to.”
he grins, fully now, something boyish and triumphant. you hate him. except you don’t. you never could.
you want to ask him again. if he drove here from glastonbury. because even now, even after years of knowing better, some stupid part of you still associates him with that town, that he still belongs to sleepy english countryside roads and not monaco, that he still exists in the same orbit as you and not constantly thousands of miles away. he hasn’t lived there in years, you know that, has spent most of his time in monaco, in hotels, in paddocks and airplanes and places you’ve only ever seen in pictures. he hasn’t been the boy with the curls and the stormy eyes you once knew for a long time.
but right now, he looks like him.
“i’m flying to bahrain tomorrow,” he says, offhanded, like it’s not important. like he’s not leaving again.
and you know you shouldn’t ask. you know you shouldn’t. but you do anyway, because you’re tired, and you’re frustrated, and he’s here, in this stupidly cramped company housing, the night before one of the most important nights of the season, and you just don’t get it. “then why are you here?”
and he looks at you.
and it’s— god.
it’s the softest you’ve ever seen him, like the edges of him have blurred, like he’s looking at you and actually seeing you, like you are something he has just now realized he wants to reach for. his expression is open in a way it almost never is, something that makes your chest feel tight, something that makes your stomach twist.
“why?” he says, and then he smiles, something small, something stupid, something devastating. “you know why.”
your heart stutters.
he says it like it’s simple. like it’s a fact. like the answer has been in front of you this entire time and you were just too blind to see it.
but that’s the problem. you do see it. you see it too clearly, and it’s terrifying.
your breath catches. your fingers curl into the sheets. something in your chest tightens, seizes, and you don’t even realize you’ve frozen up until he tilts his head slightly, brow furrowing in frustration.
“no,” you say, pushing yourself up off of mattress, voice sharp. “no, lando, don’t— don’t do this.”
he sits up too, mouth curving into a frown, reaching for you, but you pull back, swing your legs over the side of the bed, standing too fast.
“you’re being mean,” you say, and your voice cracks on it, and you hate it.
“you don’t—” you inhale sharply, pressing the heel of your palm to your forehead, pacing the few steps the room allows. your heart is beating too fast, your hands shaking, your chest tight with something too big to hold in. “i have been second to my sister my entire life, and i will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her. not when—” your breath hitches, your throat closing up. “not when i spent my whole life loving you.”
there’s a part of you— a small, sick, selfish part— that wants to take it back. that wants to let him stay. that wants to be the afterthought, the backburner, the waiting room. that wants to sit in the wreckage of this moment and pretend it’s fine, fine, fine.
"get out," you seethe, but it doesn’t feel like enough. it doesn’t feel like it holds all of what you mean, what you want to say. because what you actually want to say is: how dare you. how dare you come here, how dare you look at me like that, how dare you make me think i can want something i cannot have.
“don’t do this,” he says, rough and quiet, and it’s not a demand, not even an argument. it’s something closer to a plea. and fuck him for that. fuck him for making it sound like you’re the one ruining things. like you’re the one breaking his heart.
the laugh that escapes your lips is humorless, bitter. “you don’t get to ask me that,” you say, and you’re trembling now. you shake your head, blinking rapidly, like it might stop the way your vision is starting to blur. "you don't get to do this. you don’t get to— to show up after years and say that and expect me to—"
you stop yourself before you can finish the thought. before you can make it worse.
lando's jaw clenches, and he steps forward, just slightly, like he wants to reach for you, like he wants to fix it.
but he can’t.
you step back, out of reach, your throat burning.
“just go,” you say, and it’s barely above a whisper.
he exhales sharply, running a hand through his curls, tugging at them in frustration. “you’re not being fair.”
"fair?" you echo, and something inside you snaps. "you want to talk about fair, lando? fair is not spending my entire life in the fucking background, waiting for you to— to see me. fair is not you showing up after all this time and making me feel like this, like i'm just—like i’m just—”
you bite down on the words, pressing your lips together so hard it hurts.
"i do," he says, “see you.” and his voice is softer now, careful in a way that makes you want to claw at your own skin. "you make yourself small," he murmurs, searching your face, "but i see past that."
you freeze.
it's unfair, the way he says it. unfair, the way he looks at you— like he means it, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like it isn’t utterly ridiculous. like you’re someone worth seeing at all.
because he can't be serious. not really.
because if he sees you, then what the hell is he still doing here?
you stare at him, stomach twisting. the longer this stretches, the more impossible it feels. the longer he stands there, in your tiny, freezing room, after driving all the way here, after finding you, after telling you all these things you never let yourself want to hear— the more it feels like a joke.
your jaw tightens, and you force out a breath, shaking your head. “you’re so full of shit.”
lando exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. "you think i'm lying?"
you don’t answer.
because of course you do. of course, you think he's lying, because what other explanation could there be? people don’t just show up like this, not for you. people don’t just say things like this, not to you.
lando is— lando is bright lights and roaring crowds and champagne on podiums and gold stars you stopped earning a long time ago. he is big and brilliant and out in the world, his name on headlines, his face on screens, and you are this. you are small and tired and standing in a too-cold room in a life that is barely yours, trying to pretend like the walls aren’t closing in.
so why the hell is he here?
you cross your arms, trying to hold yourself together. “you’re telling me—” you say, slow and deliberate, “that you drove all the way here, to my shitty flat, the night before you’re supposed to fly to bahrain— just to tell me that you ‘see me?’”
lando looks at you, and it’s almost frustrating how unaffected he seems. "yes."
a bitter laugh slips out before you can stop it. "right." because that makes sense. because that's fucking believable.
lando's expression tightens, his patience beginning to wear thin. "why is that so hard for you to believe?"
why? that's the million-pound question, isn't it?
why? because you are not brilliant anymore, if you ever were. because you are a little fish in an impossibly large pond, and the tide has long since pulled you under. because people like him don’t choose people like you. because if you believe him— if you really believe him— then you’ll have to face the fact that you’ve spent years telling yourself a lie.
you let out a sharp breath. "because you don’t mean it."
lando flinches like you've struck him. “you think i came here to lie to you?”
you have to believe that. you have to.
because if you don’t— if you believe him, if you let yourself think, even for a second, that he might really be here, that he might really want you— then you won’t survive it when he eventually realizes he was wrong.
“i think,” you say, voice colder now, “that you’re here because i’m convenient. because i’m familiar. because i’m the easiest thing in your life right now, and you needed something easy. right before the season starts.”
lando’s eyes darken, something like hurt flickering across his face before he masks it. “that’s not fair.” he repeats.
“isn’t it?” you shoot back. “you live in fucking monaco. you race cars for a living. you could have anything, anyone, and you came here? to me?” you scoff. "be fucking for real, lando."
his jaw clenches. “i came here because i wanted to.”
“and that’s what doesn’t make sense.”
he stares at you, eyes searching, as if looking long enough might make you understand.
but you do understand. and that’s the problem.
because a part of you— some small, traitorous part, buried deep beneath all the years and tests and report cards of self-doubt and exhaustion— knows he means it. knows that he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. knows that he sees something in you that you can’t see in yourself.
but you refuse to let it take root. refuse to let yourself believe in something that will only crumble in your hands.
so you shake your head, step back, put as much space between you as you can. “just go, lando.”
his brows knit together, like he wants to argue, like he wants to fight back, but he doesn’t.
he just looks at you, long and quiet, something unreadable in his expression. and then he nods. and he leaves.
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woso-story · 5 hours ago
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Better Boyfriend Than Him - Part Nine
Alexia Putellas x Reader - Other Parts
The soft glow of the morning sun painted the sky in hues of pink and orange as you stirred awake. The apartment was silent, the city still slowly coming to life outside. You turned your head, your gaze landing on Alexia.
She was still asleep, her breathing slow and steady, her features relaxed in a way you had never seen before. She looked peaceful. Beautiful.
You exhaled quietly, sinking deeper into the couch.
Last night had been overwhelming. The heartbreak, the uncertainty about the future, the way everything seemed to be falling apart. But amidst the chaos, Alexia had been a grounding presence. Her words, her reassurance—they had helped you sleep. She had made you feel like maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t always feel this awful.
You wanted to believe her.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Ingrid standing in the kitchen, watching you.
When your eyes finally landed on her, you felt heat rush to your face. You had just been caught staring at her teammate.
But Ingrid didn’t look at you with judgment. Instead, she smiled knowingly, lifting her coffee mug in a silent question.
You nodded quickly and stood up, walking over to her.
As she started making you a cup, she asked softly, “How are you feeling?”
You wrapped your arms around yourself. “Not good… but it could be worse.”
She nodded in understanding, watching you carefully.
“Mapi still asleep?” you asked, desperate to change the subject.
Ingrid chuckled. “She won’t be up for a while. You know she’s not a morning person.”
You smiled, shaking your head. “Yeah, she never was.”
The two of you fell into easy conversation, speaking about everything and nothing at all as you prepared breakfast. The normalcy of it was comforting, a much-needed distraction from the storm inside your mind.
About an hour later, you heard the sound of footsteps, and when you turned around, you saw Alexia rubbing her eyes as she walked into the kitchen.
“Morning,” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
“Morning,” you and Ingrid responded at the same time.
Ingrid excused herself to go wake Mapi, leaving you and Alexia alone at the kitchen table.
Alexia glanced at you, tilting her head slightly. “You sleep okay?”
You gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”
She returned the smile, a softness in her eyes that made your stomach flutter.
---
A little while later, Mapi finally stumbled into the kitchen, grumbling under her breath about how Ingrid was evil for waking her up.
Breakfast was filled with easy conversation, the four of you laughing and chatting like things were normal.
For a brief moment, you almost forgot about the pain.
But then, you sighed.
Mapi immediately caught it. “What’s wrong?”
You hesitated before answering. “Just thinking about everything I have to do now.” You ran a hand through your hair. “I need to get my stuff from Luis’s apartment. I need to find a new place. A hotel for the next few days.”
Mapi scoffed. “That’s nonsense. You can stay here.”
You chuckled. “You should probably check your guest room before saying that.”
Mapi frowned before realization hit her. Right. Their guest room was still full of moving boxes, and there was no bed yet.
Ingrid laughed at the dumb look on her girlfriend’s face. “We can make it work if you want to stay.”
You shook your head. “It’s okay. I’ll figure something out.”
Then, a voice spoke up—calm, steady.
“You can stay at mine.”
You turned your head so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. “What?”
Alexia shrugged, as if she hadn’t just said something that caught you completely off guard. “I have a guest room. It’s ready to use.”
You blinked at her. “Alexia, I—”
“You don’t need to waste money on a hotel,” she said simply. “I’m barely home because of football, so I won’t be in your way.”
You stared at her, completely unsure of what to say. “I’d be the one bothering you, not the other way around.”
She rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
The two of you went back and forth for a few minutes, you insisting that you’d figure something else out, Alexia insisting that it wasn’t necessary.
Finally, you sighed. “…Only for a few days. Until I find a place.”
Alexia smiled, and for some reason, that made your heart race.
“Good,” she said.
Mapi clapped her hands together. “Alright, now that that’s settled, we’re coming with you to get your things.”
You exhaled, your chest feeling a little less heavy. “Thank you.”
At noon, they left for training, and you agreed to meet at five to go to Luis’s apartment.
You weren’t looking forward to it.
Seeing him again.
Letting him see you like this.
You felt sick just thinking about it.
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lsunstreakerl · 18 hours ago
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1.4k of scrapbook max- this is closer to the end of the scrapbook, near graduation. (they grow up so fast)
if you haven't read the esteban ficlet, check it out here. provides some background to them :)
Esteban slides the drawer shut, crossing out a line on his checklist. It wraps up stocking supplies for exam room three, which just leaves him four through eight to finish today.
There's a slight sharpness in the air, a weirdly flat sensation that always makes him shiver. He sighs, setting his notepad back on the counter as he leans back against the drawers, watching the door.
Sure enough, it swings open a few moments later, and Max is already grinning at him, a lazy tug at his mouth.
"Doctor."
It's a low purr, nothing professional about it at all, and Esteban frowns, glaring at him.
"You know I am not actually a doctor."
Max shrugs, suit plating clinking softly. He doesn't look injured, and he's come a long way from needing Esteban's critical care experience.
He tries not to look too hard at Max's shoulders, even if he can't remember when they got so broad.
The younger students have puppy crushes the size of the moon, and Esteban knows because they like to talk about it constantly. Sometimes he considers pulling out his phone and finding old photos of Max from years ago, lanky and bitchy.
He doesn't. It's important for the younger students to view them as larger than life- it helps keep them sane.
"Maybe I've hurt my hands."
Esteban raises an eyebrow. Max can't even say it with a straight face, smirking at him. His hands are fine, and Esteban knows it because the suit is designed to send the medical team a ping when the sensors get overloaded. He hasn't gotten any kind of ping, and the white metal plating is as spotless as it was when Max was pulling it on this morning, tucking the duvet back around his shoulders as he left, a soft press to his forehead.
Perks of sleeping with a human lightning rod- Esteban's phone is always charged. Downside? Max has to be up before the sun rises to supervise the younger students, since he's a dorm lead.
Esteban is also a dorm lead, but the medical student building isn't near as volatile as Max's, which seems to have some kind of structural issue every week.
"So badly you had to come straight to me? And I didn't get a ping?"
This is so stupid- Esteban can't believe he plays this game every time. If his juniors could see him right now he'd never hear the end of it.
Still, Max makes a sheepish face, wiggling his hands at Esteban, even though Esteban can see the thick black fabric underneath the plating is perfectly fine.
"I am being cautious, Doctor Ocon. I'd hate for something to happen to my fingers, I know how fond you are of them."
Esteban feels his face heat as he steps forward, skin buzzing when he gets closer to Max.
"You are so stupid, shut up."
Max is grinning, eyes bright as Esteban tugs at his glove. His hands are more scar than skin at this point in their lives, midway into their twenties as they're getting ready to graduate.
The gloves slide off easily enough, metal clinking as Esteban sets them on the counter, fingers running across the top of Max's hands.
He knows the path of Max's muscles and nerves better than his own, effortlessly finds the usual spots for damage, visualizing the sensation he's getting in his mind.
It used to be much harder, when Max would bring him a mangled mess, unable to move his hands, nerves dead up to his elbows, skin charred. Esteban has spent countless nights painstakingly repairing pathways, weaving together muscle and sinew, just for Max to turn around and destroy it all again.
He knows better now- Esteban finds only the barest hint of overexertion, practically nothing at all. He repairs it anyways, because Max has an embarrassing point about what his fingers are good for.
Max is quiet while Esteban works, a solid presence. He can feel the heat of him along his side- Max runs hot. It's nice in the winters, but not so much in the summers, when Esteban kicks him out back to his own dorm at three in the morning, sweating buckets.
He runs his fingers absentmindedly along the inside of Max's palms. He's not even looking for anything anymore, touching just to touch. Max presses closer, and Esteban leans against him. He's used to the buzz of his skin, the smell of ozone. It's just Max to him.
There's been a few occasions where he's had to leave the medical wing, going outside of campus to help with emergencies, and it's always jarring to feel it at such an extreme, hair standing up on his arms, teeth aching.
Esteban prefers his Max, the calm after a storm, gentle with the juniors and reliable no matter what. He doesn't often see the other Max, the one the juniors talk about in hushed tones- bright eyed maniacal intensity, impossible to keep down, unrelenting.
Well- he knew that Max before. It's why he laughs whenever he overhears the juniors calling Max unstable- they've never really seen it.
Esteban has; in what was one of the most terrifying moments of his life, twitching from shock and pinned against a wall.
Max maintains that he's never been headbutted that hard before in his life. Esteban is privately proud of that fact.
He sighs as Max wraps his arms around his waist, gently walking them back towards the bench.
"Max, I have work to finish."
Max hums, and Esteban knows he's not listening at all.
"Max."
The back of his knees hit the bench, and Max squeezes gently at his hip.
"I can be quick- I've heard I'm quite famous for my speed."
It's a terrible idea. Esteban has an entire rules list printed in the medical dorms, and one of the top rules, highlighted and underlined, is to not fuck in the exam rooms. He has an example to set, even if he really doesn't want to.
He puts a hand against Max's chest, metal warm under his palm. Max is pouting at him already.
"Not in the exam rooms, you are as bad as a dog."
"Somewhere else then?"
Esteban narrows his eyes, lifting his hand to flick Max's jaw.
"My room, later. When we are both not busy- I know you have not had enough time to drop off the post-class evaluation."
Max is frowning, because he knows Esteban is weak for the pout.
"I made Charles do it, so I could come see you."
Esteban bites on his lip not to laugh. Max has an infamous hatred of paperwork- but so does Charles. Putting both of them as team leads was a horrible call from Vettel, but they work distressingly well together out in the field.
When they get over their personal grudges, anyways. They're best in a crisis situation, when they can't think too hard about who exactly they're fighting side by side with.
"So I will get a mean message later, I'm sure, telling me how I am a distraction?"
Max's eyes narrow, even though they both know he's joking, bringing a hand to brush across his cheek with his thumb.
"You are never a distraction to me, Esteban."
It's honestly embarrassing, how it still makes his cheeks heat when Max is genuine with him- a peek behind the persona he's had to cultivate within the academy.
Esteban twists his head to briefly kiss Max's bare palm before slipping underneath his arm and grabbing his clipboard.
"I would say the same, but you have come in to distract me on purpose, so I will not fall for it."
Max is still grinning fondly at him, eyes gentle.
"Yes, I am working on my criminal mastermind plans, starting of course with this exam room."
Esteban fights his own grin, lifting his chin.
"Exactly, and I'm not going to let you."
Max dramatically grabs a hand to his chest, making a wounded expression.
"Argh, smiles, my greatest weakness- how did you know?"
Esteban drags a hand down his face, helplessly trying to fight the giggles.
"You are ridiculous- get out of here, go help Charles with lesson planning."
Max's eyes are sparkling.
"But you haven't fixed me, doctor."
Esteban points a finger at him, shaking it playfully.
"I told you, we are not making that a thing."
"But how will I get better without a kiss? I'll die without it, really."
Ugh, he never should've done it in the first place- he knows better. Max gets an inch and takes a mile, and he knows Esteban is weak for it.
"You are terrible."
He's stepping forward anyways, kissing Max gently as he feels a hand settle on his hip, a pleasant buzz shooting through him before he pulls back.
"There, you're all better now."
Max pouts. Esteban isn't falling for it again.
"Paperwork, Verstappen."
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sweetprfct · 3 days ago
Text
Please Please Please
Aaron Taylor-Johnson x Fem!Reader
Summary: An unexpected coffee accident turned your life upside down into a world full of glamour and flashing cameras everywhere you turned. You thought with Aaron by your side, it was going to be easy to navigate, but it turns out life in front of the flashing cameras isn't so effortless after all.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! I was on a mini vacation, so I couldn't upload the next chapter. Here's chapter four! Enjoy! :)
Wordcount: 4.5K
Disclaimer: 18+
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chapter one - chapter two - chapter three - chapter four - chapter five - chapter six - chapter seven - chapter eight - chapter nine - chapter ten - chapter eleven - chapter twelve - epilogue
The nail of your thumb had found its way between your teeth, your right leg slightly bouncing under the table. The voices of your friends sounded distant as you disassociated for a few seconds. It has been a week since the party. It has been a week since you heard from Aaron. It has been a week since you came all over his hand. 
The thought of his thick fingers inside of you sent a throbbing ache between your legs. It was almost like you could still feel them. You haven’t told anyone about what happened. When you came back to the party, and Hannah had asked you where you had been, you made up some excuse that you went to get some fresh air. When you came home that night and found Sara sitting on the sofa with Eli, all behaved–unlike you– you didn’t say a word. 
You couldn’t tell your friends, even Sara. It felt embarrassing to know that you literally came all over this actor’s hand and never heard from him again. All they knew was that you saw him at the party and had a good conversation and that he had asked for your number. 
When Aaron had asked to see you again that night, you didn’t expect to hear from him but there was that sliver of hope that kept resurfacing all week. However, it has been a week since that night, and he hasn’t texted or called. You told yourself that it was a good thing you didn’t get your hopes up.
But how come there was an empty pit in your stomach?
Your friends’ voice reemerged to your attention again. You all were out for a Saturday brunch, but you felt like you weren’t there presently. Asher was talking about football, and you weren’t paying attention to him. Besides the fact that you didn’t know crap about football, you were still pissed at him. 
“Are you okay?” Sara nudged your side lightly with her elbow.
You blinked a few times and turned to give her a small smile. “Yes, sorry. I zoned out for a bit. Just tired, I guess.” 
You picked up your glass of mimosa to take a sip and leaned back against your chair. You weren’t lying, though. You were also tired. Work had been busy all week. You were starting to feel that extra production that was being added to the team, and you couldn’t sleep all week either. 
Your phone buzzed on the table, and you leaned forward to see who it was. A soft gasp escaped from Sara’s lips as if you both were thinking the same thing. The phone was sitting on the table between the two of you, and she happened to catch a glimpse of the screen the moment it vibrated through the table. You turned to her with wide eyes and next thing you know, both of your hands were grabbing the phone, but you were quick enough to take it away. 
“What did he say?!” Sara exclaimed excitedly, a big smile plastered on her face. 
You clutched your phone on your chest, while the rest of your friends whipped their heads, looking at the two of you like you were crazy. Your heart was racing so fast, you could barely breathe. 
“What’s going on?” Ivy asked. 
“Nothing!” You immediately answered, giving Sara a look. 
Sara’s eyes widened, pointing at you and shaking her head. Her mouth was agape, her eyes darting to you and back to your friends. Ivy, Luca, and Asher looked confused about what was going on. You swallowed the sudden nervous feeling that was washing over you. You were still clutching your phone in your chest because you were too scared to even open the message. 
“Open it!” Sara demanded. 
“Open what? Who is it?” Luca asked. 
“Sara.” You warned, your eyes widening even more. 
Sara looked torn between you and the rest of your friends. The three of them were still waiting for the both of you to answer their questions, and you were frozen in your seat. You didn’t want to move at all or better yet, you didn’t want to even look at the message. 
“Open it,” Sara whispered. 
You looked at your friends and slowly pulled the phone away from your chest. You didn’t even realize it was upside down when you looked at the screen. You turned it around and the screen lit up from your movement. His name was right there on your lock screen. You weren’t hallucinating. You actually saw his name. You unlocked your phone and opened up the message. 
Aaron: Hi love, apologies that I haven’t called, but I do keep my promises. It’s just been a very busy week. So much press tour to do. Do you happen to be free tonight? I promise this is not a work event I’m taking you to. 
Your chest tightened as your fingers gripped your phone harder, your knuckles turning white. You kept reading the message over and over again until it was glued in your brain, but it wouldn’t. It still didn’t feel real. You snapped into reality when Sara nudged you lightly on your side.
“So?” She raised her brow, waiting for you to tell her. 
You stared at her, extending your arm, and handing her the phone. Sara bit her lower lip and took the phone from your hand. There was a brief silence as she read the message before looking up at your friends with a big grin. You shook your head because you could tell she was about to detonate. 
“What?” Luca asked impatiently this time. 
“Aaron Taylor-Johnson just asked her out.” Sara’s words were slow and careful as if she wanted all of your friends to understand every word that was coming out of her lips. 
As if they were all in sync, Ivy and Luca gasped loudly and their eyes widened. Asher leaned forward against the table, his eyes also big and wide and there was a fire burning in his eyes. 
“Say yes!” Ivy exclaimed. “Say yes! Say yes!”
“Wait!” Luca waved his hands in front of everyone. “Pause! You!” He pointed his finger at you, your brows shooting up to your forehead. “Explain.”
Luca demanded as your mouth agape, no words coming out of your lips. You shrugged and gripped the glass of mimosa tighter in your hand.
“There’s nothing to explain.” You murmured. “I didn’t think he would actually text me when he asked for my number.” 
“Say yes!” Ivy interrupted the conversation, making you jump from your seat.
You could tell Sara was truly enjoying this conversation, while Asher was huffing and puffing in the corner. You weren’t surprised at his reaction but right now, he was the least of all your worries. You looked at Ivy for a moment and then back at Luca. 
“Be careful, hun,” Luca warned. “He is an actor after all.”
Luca’s words suddenly made your stomach turn into knots. It made your mind start reeling into different thoughts of what he meant by that. Aaron was an actor, and you never belonged in that world. You didn’t have to assume because you felt it every single time you accompanied Hannah to these events. 
What if he was just playing around? What if he was just testing the waters because you weren’t some actress, so it might be easier to just drop you if he realized you weren’t someone worth wasting his time? 
You saw your friends’ reactions. Luca was sipping his drink with some concern in his eyes, while Ivy and Sara were still a little bit hyped up by what was going on. Meanwhile Asher— well, Asher was Asher. 
“Should I go?” Your eyes turned glassy when you looked at Sara with worried eyes. 
As much as you love your best friends, Sara was the only one who truly understood you inside and out. She could always see right through you and could read between the lines. Sara bit her lower lip and took your hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. 
“Do you… like him?” She asked.
The excited smile on her face had faltered and this time, her expression had turned pensive. Suddenly, everyone else had disappeared around you. It was like this conversation was just you and her. 
“I think so. I don’t know yet.” You murmured, looking down at both of your hands. 
“Okay,” Sara whispered, she glanced at your friends before looking back at you. “I think I agree with Luca. Be careful because his life is different from ours but… don’t stop yourself from also giving this a chance.”
You nodded your head and gave her a grateful smile. 
“He’s fucking Aaron Taylor-Johnson after all.” She added, teasing you. 
You laughed softly and turned to your friends. Ivy still had hope glimmering in her eyes, and Luca was giving you an encouraging smile. Picking up your phone from the table, you replied to Aaron. 
“Fucking actors.” You heard Asher mumble under his breath before finishing the rest of his drink. 
You: So, where are you taking me?
_______
You stood in front of your long-length mirror and stared at yourself. Your long hair was in waves, you were wearing a short skirt, a knitted sweater and a brown leather jacket. Your eyes shifted towards your closet before you grabbed your tall boots and slipped them on. You were wearing just a simple makeup that highlighted your features. You looked at yourself one more time in the mirror and grabbed your purse. 
After all the warnings that your friends had told you during brunch, there was a part of you that was hesitant about this, so you had asked Aaron to just text you the address. You even turned on your location for Sara, so she knew where you were. 
Okay, you might be acting a little paranoid because this man literally touched you just a week ago and now, you were acting like he was someone you just met. Technically, you didn’t know him well yet, so it was better safe than sorry. 
It was around dusk when you arrived at the Griffith Observatory. You weren’t going to lie, you were a little curious about what he had planned ever since he had texted you the address. Parking your car, you immediately found him leaning against his. He was wearing a forest green suede jacket with a blue shirt underneath and navy blue trousers. His hair was tousled in a nice way, his curls showing. It made you want to rake your fingers through it.
Your eyes couldn't help but wonder at his hands. The hands that touched you. 
Fingers that were inside of you.
He had rings on his fingers that he was playing with as he grinned at you when you walked up to him. 
“Hi.” You smiled.
“Hi.” Aaron’s eyes studied you.
“So… Griffith, huh?” You looked around the place, taking in the view of Los Angeles.
Aaron looked over his shoulder where the observatory building was standing before looking back at you. He held out his hand and said, “We can go there later, but I have something else planned.”
Curious, you slid your hand into his, feeling the warmth of his skin spread through your body. He walked you out of the parking lot and down the hill. The view of Los Angeles was stunning in front of you, appearing and disappearing between the trees. Aaron squeezed your hand lightly as you both continued down until the Observatory was seen on top of the hill. The crowd was fading away quickly and the moment it was just the two of you, he stopped in front of two big trees. 
In the middle, there was an area that he set up with a picnic blanket and a picnic basket. It was almost at the edge of the cliff, and the whole city of Los Angeles was glittering in front of you. Aaron slipped his hand away from yours as you stood there with a small smile on your face. You studied all the things that he set up, and he even had pink peonies sitting on the blanket.
“I didn’t know Aaron Taylor-Johnson is such a romantic.” You said, looking at him. 
He set his hand on the small of your back and led you to the picnic blanket. You sat on the blanket and folded your legs beneath you. Aaron sat across from you, a proud smile on his face as he took the charcuterie board and set it between the two of you. 
“What did you expect?” He asked, setting the salami, different kinds of cheese and crackers on the board. 
You shrugged and said, “I don’t know… Some fancy steak dinner in the most expensive restaurant in LA.”
Aaron laughed softly, shaking his head. He looked into your eyes, asking, “Is that what you wanted instead?”
“No.” You shook your head, smiling and turning to embrace the view that was in front of you. “I guess I’ve been given a different perspective from Hannah and her exes.” 
Aaron slid the board closer to you, taking a grape from it and popping it in his mouth. “That sounds boring.” 
Aaron took out two wine glasses and a bottle of wine, poured it into the glasses and handed one to you. You murmured a thanks before taking a sip of your drink. From the taste of it, you knew the wine was expensive. It melted in your mouth, and it was really smooth. 
Humming approvingly, you smiled and turned towards the view again. It was peaceful, and you loved the feeling of this. The soft breeze blew through your hair, and you could see the life that was going on in the city. 
It was peaceful. Relaxing.
“How long are you in LA?” You asked, taking some cheese and crackers from the board. 
“As long as I want to, love.” A smirk was tugging on his expression. 
You raised your brow, knowing what he meant by that. “I should have asked the question differently. I mean how long are you in LA that your job requires you to?”
“Ah,” He chuckled softly, taking a sip of his drink. “A month. I have a few press events to do for the new movie and I can technically go back to London after.”
“Technically?” You tilted your head at him, wondering what he meant by that. 
“Mhmm.” He grinned, his face telling you all the answers you needed to know. 
Technically, he could leave in a month, but it seemed like something or someone was stopping him from doing so. You wanted to say that it could be you, but you didn’t want to be hopeful that he was staying in a foreign country for a girl like you.
Aaron pulled out some more containers from the basket and two plates. You watched as he put some pasta on both of the plates and some garlic bread along with some salad. You dug your teeth on your lower lip, holding in your smile.  
You were… impressed. 
 “Wow.” You blew a long breath. “You made all of this?”
Aaron nodded his head, handing you your plate. “Except for the bread.”
“Oh? That’s too bad I was imagining you rolling the dough, your shirt full of flour in your kitchen.” You laughed softly.
“Sorry to ruin your fantasy, darling.” He grinned widely. “Maybe I could make it up one day.”
You felt your cheeks heat up. There he was again with his flirty words. A brief silence surrounded the two of you as you drank your wine and ate your pasta before widening your eyes at how delicious it tasted. 
“That’s really good.” You hummed in approval and ate some more. 
Aaron’s grin widened before asking, “How long have you been a Chemist?”
You twisted your lips to the side, staring at the dark, starry sky for a moment. It felt like you had been living in the lab of Genome Dynamics forever. The years that you spent there have been long and slow. It has also been rough. It was as if the years had gone by so fast but at the same time, it felt so slow.
“Four years? About five?” You said. “Ever since I graduated from CalTech, I immediately got a position there.”
You let out a long sigh, not wanting to remember the stress that you have been experiencing at work. 
“Sometimes I wonder if it was better if I had done academia instead of working in an industry, but finding financial support for your research can be tough also.” You shrugged. 
“Do you like it?” Aaron swallowed the pasta he was eating and tilted his head at you.
You stared into his curious blue eyes. “It isn’t too bad, I guess.” 
Another brief silence blanketed the two of you, and you saw the way Aaron was looking at you. His eyes were filled with curiosity as a line appeared between his brows. As if he was doubting the answer that you gave him. 
Somehow, you were doubting yourself too. 
“Is it difficult? You know… being famous, that is.” You asked, hoping to change the subject. 
Aaron nodded his head, taking a sip of his wine. “Sometimes… Especially when you have anxiety.”
“I bet.” You studied his expression. 
He seemed… honest. 
“Do you ever get peace?” You asked.
Slowly, a smile pulled the corner of his lips. “Yeah… like right now.”
A blush crept up on your cheeks as you looked down at your food and didn’t say a word. Aaron chuckled softly, watching you eat your pasta and slowly hid yourself inside of you. You weren’t used to someone flirting and saying these kinds of things to you. In the last relationship you had, he was always manipulating and jealous of everything. He only used kind words to manipulate you. 
Obviously, you had learned and had gotten over that, but you couldn’t help but still feel a little weird. It wasn’t something that you were used to, and you wondered if you would ever get used to that. 
________
The crowd of people was slowly disappearing by the time you both arrived back at the Observatory. There were a few girls that were staring at Aaron the moment you entered the building. A few of them whispered to each other and secretly took a photo of him. You couldn’t help but feel anxious, knowing this would probably end up on the internet. 
What were you thinking? 
This was going to spread like wildfire, and you didn’t know if you were ready for that. Aaron turned to you and probably saw the expression on your face because he suddenly slid his hand on the small of your back. 
“Hey,” He said, unconsciously blocking the view of the girls who were taking photos. “Are you okay?”
He was so tall, and he took up a lot of space in this part of the entrance. You barely had stepped inside, and people were already staring. 
“They’re… They’re taking photos.” You whispered, playing with your fingers nervously. 
Aaron looked over his shoulder and smiled at the girls, making them giggle softly before he looked back at you. 
“We don’t have to go in here if you aren’t comfortable," Aaron said. “Just say the word, and we’ll get out of here.”
“No, I…” Your voice trailed off. “It’s just… are you okay with this? This is going to be all over the internet. It probably already is.”
Aaron smiled, brushing the back of his hand on your cheek softly. “Is that what you’re afraid of? That I didn’t want people or the internet to see us?”
You nodded as he smiled, sliding his hand down on your arm. It sent a trail of goosebumps down to where his fingers brushed your skin before he intertwined your fingers together.
“Do you trust me?” He asked.
You bit your lip, “Yes.” 
He smiled, lifting your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers softly. Your breath hitched from the feel of his lips on your skin. He was going to be the death of you if this didn’t go well. He tugged softly at your hand as he led you towards the middle where everyone was looking down at something. He focused his attention on the bronze ball that was swaying gently, but your eyes were still on him. You could feel your heart beating a million miles per hour.
You squeezed his hand lightly, standing on your tiptoes to get a better look at the ball. You smiled as everyone else and whatever they were doing to get as many photos as they wanted for the internet slowly disappeared from your mind. 
“It’s a Foucault Pendulum.” You said, gazing up at Aaron. “It’s a scientific instrument that demonstrates the Earth’s rotation.”
Aaron turned to face you with a surprised but proud look on his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his expression. You’ve learned all the different sciences in college, this wasn’t new to you. 
“You’re always surprising me, love,” Aaron murmured.
“My best friend and roommate, Sara, works at NASA.” You chuckled softly.
“Yeah, but you’re also in STEM,” Aaron replied.
You smiled, shrugging your shoulders casually and slipping your hand away from him. You didn’t know if it was the wine that had started to boost your confidence, but you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder and flutter your lashes at him as you walked down to one of the halls. 
“I guess.” You smiled.
It was like all of a sudden, he was magnetic to you. It was like his gravity kept pulling towards you as you continued down the hall and looked around. You smiled and stopped at the display of the moon. It was dark, and there was a model on the ceiling where the model of the moon was slowly rotating. In front of you, the phases of the moon were on the screen. 
“Sara always loved the planets and the stars.” You said, looking up at the rotating moon display in the ceiling. 
Aaron stood next to you, his eyes looking up at the display also. 
“Me, I’ve always loved the moon.” You smiled and dropped your gaze at him. 
“Why the moon?” 
Your eyes shifted towards the screen where the moon phases were being displayed. “Because the moon’s presence is always constant. Almost a companion everywhere you go. Even if you can’t see it, it’s always there behind the clouds. The Earth’s partner, no matter what, helps it stabilize.”
When your eyes caught Aaron’s blue ones, there was something soft with the way he was looking at you. Even if it was dark inside the moon’s exhibit, you could see it glimmering and somehow, it made you feel like this look was just for you. 
“That’s beautiful,” Aaron murmured. 
Smiling, you both walked away from the display and continued down the hall. You both stop on each little display they have, reading the facts, and your mind being mind blown about everything. You studied Astronomy back in college, but you always found Space fascinating because they kept discovering something new every time. You walked next to Aaron as he headed towards the door in the back corner. Opening the door, the cool air greeted you as you blew out a breath from the stunning view of Los Angeles. 
“Wow.” You exhaled a sharp breath. “I don’t think I could ever get used to this.” 
You both walked up towards the telescopes and leaned against the white balcony wall. Aaron was quiet, but you could feel his gaze on you. When you heard a small giggle just a few feet away, your head immediately turned towards it. Two girls were staring at Aaron and taking pictures and suddenly, that anxiety enveloped you all over again. 
“What is it?” Aaron asked, taking a step closer to you.  
A soft breeze blew through your hair as you slid your hands inside your jacket pockets. 
“Why…” You cleared your throat, your eyes shifting towards the girl taking a picture of Aaron from behind him. “Why me?”
Aaron furrowed his brows and looked over his shoulder to where you were looking. The girl smiled at him and immediately walked away with her friend, tucking her phone in her pocket. 
Aaron turned back to you as you let out a long breath. 
“Why did you ask me out?” You asked. 
“Why not?” The look on Aaron’s face seemed like he couldn’t understand you were asking this question at all. 
“I’m…” You let out a scoff. “I’m not, you know… anything.”
Aaron sighed and moved closer to you. His hands were still on his sides, but you could tell he was itching to reach for you but he was still trying to be cautious around you. You couldn’t help but find it funny because just about a week ago, his hands were all over you. 
“So, you think because you’re not a famous actress it means I might change my mind?” Aaron tilted his head, brow lifted. “C’mon, love. You got to give me more credit than that.”
“I know. I just…” Your voice trailed off before you looked into his ocean-blue eyes. “I don’t know…”
“Do you know how many people in my world left an impression on me after just a day and a couple minutes of conversation?” 
You shook your head, making Aaron smile. “Zero.” He brushed the back of his hand against your cheek softly and said, “Until you dropped that coffee all over me and rambled on about your pasta.” 
You laughed softly, remembering that clumsy moment of yours. You were so embarrassed that day but somehow, that one little incident made an impression on him. It was weird how you both had different views of what happened. 
You sighed heavily and said, “I’m not famous.”
“I don’t care,” Aaron said confidently.
“I hate those after-parties.” 
“Me too,” Aaron replied immediately.
“I ramble a lot and I’m stubborn.” You kept throwing him excuses, seeing if he was going to change his mind. 
“Good.” Aaron grinned. “I like a challenge.”
You shook your head, grinning widely as you looked down at your feet. You couldn’t believe this man didn’t want to accept any of your excuses. Any of the flaws that you see yourself with. 
“What else?” Aaron lifted your chin, so you could look at him.
There was one more.
The ultimate one that has been running in your mind ever since Aaron had asked you out. 
“My friends will be so angry at me if I give you a chance and you fuck this up.” You murmured.
Aaron clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Then, I better not fuck this up.”
“No, you better not.” You felt his arm slip around your waist. 
You giggled softly as he pressed his body against yours. “Please, please, please.”
You heard a low laugh escape from him as he hummed softly, staring at you for a moment before crashing his lips on yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled through the kiss, letting his warmth engulf you.
__________________________________________________________
Taglist:
@acourtofpenandpaper, @metal-redcherries, @n0rdicmaiden, @galadoesart, @dare-writes
27 notes · View notes
raddestrose · 2 days ago
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i’m sorry, but Tsukasa you’re too fruity with this guy I cannot take you seriously “ Do you promise,you never lie, in the name of science?”
like be so for real I’m sorry but stop it with the yearning. “I knew that would be your answer.” No, you wanted to be with him . You wanted him to join your side. Don’t lie to me. I can see straight through you, dude
that was a bit too much on my end I will admit��.
I wonder what would have been different if they’ve met earlier I am curious
what things have been different how different would’ve everything gone
shoot he’s got me wondering too 
SENKU NOOOOOOOOO
not the opening playing right after that tensions are too high. I’m sorry I can’t.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
DAWG THIS CANT BR TRUE
HE CANT BE DEAD
or like you know, just don’t kill people. How about how about that? 
WHAT
I am so confused
OH SHIT
THEY PULLED A FAST ONE ON HIM
DAAAAAAMN
get those grippers out of my face
I don’t wanna see none of that
there is no way he can survive that
I wonder how that one Mystery girl is gonna respond to that one huh?
NO WAY HE MADE IT THE FUCK
How do you survive an actual explosion? There is no way even by anime logic. We’re going about science here. There was no scientific way. He survived that you got to be kidding. Me man no way like actually but yeah all right OK he’s just built different. I’ll take it I guess.
I’m actually so legit confused about Senku
is dawg dead? is he not?
I mean I know he’s not because there’s like four seasons but still I’m caught up in the moment you guys
maybe you didn’t sever his cervical nerve or maybe through the power of science Taiju and Yuziriha will make a Frankensenku
GOODBYE
WHAT ISBTHIS DACE
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if I tell you guys, I’m crying literal tears of laughter. Will you believe me?
 I so genuinely almost spat out my drink over that face
Who is half and half over here what’s with that cut that is a JANKY cut
The guy on that book has probably the worst haircut I have ever seen and I’ve watched Bungo stray dogs 
although a scientist, Seku truly understands artists having a stiff neck and a bad back.
I feel seen, after a digital assignment. You will see me popping my neck every two seconds like bro here.
like so genuinely you can ask one of my friends here and they will say yes
NO WAY NO WAY
like I know, Senku is smart, but that is literally next level genius. Oh my gosh.
RIP to my next-door neighbor who is also my RA having to hear me scream every few seconds over the twists and turns the show is putting me through
gonna be real, though, if one of my friends gave a very dramatic speech like that, I wouldn’t wake up for like the next hour because I would not know how to respond
so did like he just will himself to consciousness like obviously not consciousness but like did he will himself to movement I guess
OH MY GOSH HE DID
he cannot be serious right now “YO WHERE YOU FROM WHERES YOUR MONKEY TRIBE”
bro be so for real
“ Dudes all smooth, and shiny” is not what I would’ve guessed the next line to be
he’s got his what out
i thought the show was supposed to be about science where have we gotten
I think this is peak comedy. I’m not sure.
so do all of us but STIIIIL
also, there is no way bro’s been frozen for 37,000 years and has abs. God I wish
I like his cockiness, even though in his case, it wouldn’t be cocky since he can follow through with it, but honestly, it’s so real because if I was as smart as he was, I’d be the exact same way 
why they keep talking about his skin like that it’s kind of creepy like ayo
I have absolutely no idea what the text on screen saying but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say it’s like informative text or something 
I guess we’ll never know
oh dang, he’s really smart like that’s a given with him and the show in general, but that was really clever of him that little crossbow looking thing making the fire
heck, yeah dude make that fire
I was gonna say I’d pay to see Senku on Survivor, but that’s basically the whole show so like
heck, yeah dude monologue it

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nerdlydelicious · 1 day ago
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Chapter 6 of ‘The Ultimate Protector’ is still underway. I was away from the house the week before last, and my girlfriend was visiting this past week, so I haven’t had many chances to sit down and write. But here’s yet another sneak peak of the chapter! Enjoy!
Shadow weaved through traffic as Amy squealed gleefully, arms tight around his waist.

The motorcycle may not have been as fast as him, but there was a feel to driving a vehicle that you couldn't get on your own two feet. The rumble and roar of the engine, feeling it move as you guided it. Shadow enjoyed moving under his own power, and if he ever needed to get somewhere quickly then there was little substitute for doing it himself. But when he wanted to take it easy and enjoy his journey Shadow took his bike out.

That was something Sonic would never understand. The Dark Rider wasn't about speed. It was about the peace that Shadow found in riding.

If nothing else, Amy seemed to be enjoying it too.
"Shadow!" She squealed as he slipped through a gap between two cars, narrowly avoiding clipping either by scant inches. "Be careful!" Despite her words, Amy's tone was far from scolding or worried.

So he smirked, pushed a little more power into the engine, and went even faster. He was rewarded with an excited scream from Amy as she clung tightly to him.

Shadow would be the first to admit that he held road safety laws in mild disdain, much to G.U.N.'s chagrin. That wasn't to say he was completely dismissive of them, or of other drivers or pedestrians. It was simply that those laws had been written for people who didnt have the reaction time of a picosecond, and couldn't casually run faster than the speed of sound. The Dark Rider's top speed was roughly a hundred and twenty miles per hour. If he pushed more chaos energy into it he could get it up to over two hundred. He theorized he could go faster than that, maybe even get it close to his own top speed with enough power. Though the bike likely would not survive that.

For most other people, over a hundred MPH was blisteringly fast. For Shadow, that was a casual stroll. So he weaved through traffic with little care, confident he could avoid causing a collision.
Still, he did usually show some level of respect for road laws. He (sometimes) stopped at a red light, for example.

But not tonight. Shadow blazed through a four way intersection and narrowly avoided four different cars with deft movements. Amy's giddy laughter in his ear urged him on, so he drove faster and put aside what little regard he had for road laws in favor of earning more of her happiness.

He could feel how close she was to him. Her chest against his back, her arms around his waist, and her lips a hairs breadth from his cheek, every gasp and shriek of delight as he pulled a breathtaking maneuver egging him on.

Shadow was showing off for Amy. He wanted to impress her, and do so in a way Sonic couldn't. He almost forgot where they were going, so focused was he on her that he nearly missed his turn. He realized at the last moment and turned hard, tires squealing and kicking up smoke as the bike went almost parallel with the street before righting and roaring down the lane, popping a wheelie just because he could, much to Amy's delight.

Five minutes later Shadow reached his destination. He hit the brakes and spun a perfect one eighty into a parking spot. Amy giggled wildly, still clinging tightly to him. "S-Shadow, that was... wow."

"I'm glad you think so," he replied, glancing back at her over his shoulder. His eyes met hers, scant inches between them. Her eyes shone with glee, her lips curled in a bright smile.

He suddenly felt the powerful and foolish urge to close that distance and kiss her.

Before he could act on that urge Amy untangled her arms from around his waist and leaned back from him, glancing away. "Here we are!" She exclaimed awkwardly. "Where is here...?"

Shadow looked away to hide his blazing embarrassment. What had he been thinking?! Amy had agreed to come out with him, and he had nearly ruined their good time on a stupid impulse decision. All that Chaos energy I absorbed must have fried my brain.

"It's a burger joint. I like to come here after a successful mission. If you want good food, you won't find better in Central City."

"Sounds delicious." He glanced at her as he got off the bike and was rewarded with a shy smile. "Lead the way."
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chancloud8 · 25 minutes ago
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Silly
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Pairing: hyunjin x reader
Word count: 1,2k
Tags: tiiiiiny bit of angst (real tiny), fluff, talk of feelings
Summary: hyunjin panicked and you tell him how silly he is in a loving gentle way
a/n: just a short lil cute (i hope) and silly fic cause writers block sucks and I'm trying to get back into the zone <3
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The house is quiet when you enter and you're immediately suspicious. Usually your boyfriend is downstairs in the living room by the time you get home and there's always some background noise, like the TV, soft music or the sound of pencils on paper. 
'Babe?' You call out as you take off your shoes. 'Jin? You home?' 
There's no answer. 
'Diva? Where are you girl?' You call out to your cat instead. 'Mommy's home.'
You listen carefully, waiting for the sound of Diva's paws or her soft meows, but it stays silent. 
'What the fuck,' you murmur, stepping further into the house.
The living room is empty, the TV screen is black and there's not a single trace of either your boyfriend or your cat anywhere. No pencils, sketchbooks, candy wrappers or cat toys. 
'Hello?' You call out again, tiptoeing to the glass doors that look out into the garden. 
When the garden is empty too, you slip off your coat and go upstairs. Darkness greets you again and an uneasy feeling grows in your belly. 
Did something happen? 
Your phone has been dead since four in the afternoon, but you had texted Hyunjin to let him know when you'd be home and that if he couldn't reach you he shouldn't panic. 
Did he panic anyways?
Your question is answered when you push open the door of the master bedroom and peek inside. The lights are off, but the TV is still playing one of Hyunjin's favorite K-drama's. The screen gives the room just enough light for you to see that there's an empty can of Ben & Jerry's on the bedside table. There's a bottle of wine too, but it's unopened. 
Diva is curled up on your pillow and her yellow eyes are looking at you with so much intelligence that you wish you could know what she was thinking. 
'He panicked, didn't he?' You whisper to your cat as you shake your head with silent laughter. 'Of course he did.'
Diva just blinks at you and drops her head on her paws again. 
You move to Hyunjin's side of the bed and sit down on the edge of the mattress. He's fast asleep, his chest moving up and down slow and steady as soft snores escape his lips. 
For a moment you contemplate letting him sleep, but if he really panicked about you being home late like you think he did, then the two of you need to have a little chat. 
‘Baby, wake up,’ you whisper, softly stroking his cheek with the back of your hand. ‘I'm home, baby.’ 
Hyunjin's nose twitches and his eyebrows furrow. You lean forward to press a soft kiss on his forehead and this time he mumbles something unrecognizable. 
‘Jinnieeee,’ you chuckle, stroking his cheek again. ‘Wakey, wakey.’
‘Hmmgh,’ Hyunjin mumbles again, shifting on the mattress. 
His eyes slowly open and you nearly coo at how adorable he looks, gazing up at you with sleepy eyes. He blinks a few times and then his eyes widen and he sits up so fast that your foreheads collide together. 
‘Babe, omygod, I'm so sorry,’ Hyunjin babbles. ‘Oh you have no idea how happy I am to see you.’ 
You rub your forehead with a grimace. ‘Yeah I think I get the idea.’ 
‘I'm sorry,’ Hyunjin pouts. ‘You startled me, I didn't think you'd come home.’ 
Your hand stills. Ah, there it is. 
‘What do you mean?’ you ask. 
A blush creeps up on Hyunjin's cheek ‘You were late.’ 
‘So?’ You raise your eyebrows. ‘Didn't you get my texts?’ 
Hyunjin looks down at his hands and mumbles something unrecognizable again. 
‘Baby?’ You grab his hands in yours and squeeze his fingers. ‘You didn't think I did that on purpose right?’ 
‘No, of course not,’ Hyunjin whispers, still not meeting your eyes. 
‘Then what is it? Why would you think I wouldn't come home?’ You bring his hands up to your mouth to press a kiss on his palm. 
‘It's silly,’ Hyunjin says. ‘Like, really silly.’ 
You chuckle softly and kiss his fingers. ‘You’re my silly man, so that’s nothing new.’ 
‘You’ll laugh at me,’ he pouts. 
You give him a look and let go of his hands to climb further into the bed. Hyunjin moves to make room for you and when you lay next to him you grab his chin between your thumb and forefinger. 
‘Jinnie, tell me what went through your head.’ 
He sighs and closes his eyes. ‘I thought maybe you were late cause you didn’t want to come home to me.’ 
‘Where’s this coming from? I texted you, didn’t I?’ you ask, caressing his cheek. 
‘I told you it was silly,’ Hyunjin glares at you, but his eyes soften again when you raise your brows at him. ‘I just-’ he licks his lips. ‘Sometimes I wonder why you’re even with me. You’re too good for me.’ 
‘If anyone’s too good in this relationship, it’s you,’ you whisper, leaning forward to press a kiss to his nose. ‘I’m with you because I love you, my silly silly man.’ You kiss his cheek. ‘I’m with you because you make me happy, there’s not a day that goes by that you don’t make me laugh.’ You kiss his other cheek. ‘I’m with you because you make me feel special, like I’m the most beautiful woman on the planet.’ 
‘You are,’ Hyunjin says. 
You shush him and kiss his forehead. 
‘I’m with you because you still make my heart go crazy every time I see you, everytime you smile and everytime you touch me. I can be me with you, I can be crazy, silly and an absolute nutt case and you still look at me with love in your eyes,’ you continue. ‘I’m with you because I can’t imagine my life without you.’ 
Hyunjin’s bottom lip starts to tremble and you kiss him softly. 
‘I’m with you because you’re beautiful inside and out, you’re sensitive and kind and honestly the best person I’ve ever met.’
‘Baby,’ Hyunjin whines. ‘Stop it or I’ll cry.’ 
You giggle and press a kiss on his chin this time. 
‘I promise you that I’ll never voluntarily leave you. Someone will have to take me kicking and screaming before I’ll even consider the horrendous idea of a life without you. And I won’t.’ 
Hyunjin’s arms curl around your waist and he pulls you on top of him. His eyes shine with tears and he smiles, a real smile. 
‘I still don’t think I deserve you, but I love you so fucking much Y/N,’ he whispers. ‘I can write a thousand songs about my love for you and I probably will. I’ll try and not be so silly next time you’re late.’
You laugh and cuddle further into his arms, burying your face into his chest and then his neck. ‘You do that, baby, both the song and the not being so silly. Although I do enjoy the fun kind of silly.’ 
‘The fun kind of silly,’ Hyunjin repeats slowly. 
‘Mhm,’ you hum, looking up at him. 
Suddenly a warm wetness surrounds your nose and you let out a surprised squeak as Hyunjin sucks on your nose. 
‘Like that?’ he laughs when he lets go. 
You make a face at him and wipe your nose on his shirt. ‘Uh, not really, but I’ll take it.’ 
‘Good,’ Hyunjin nods happily, pulling you closer. ‘I’m glad you’re home, baby.’ 
‘Me too, my love, me too.’
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a/n: I opened google docs after seeing the escape m/v and fully intended to write something hyunchan, but ehh this came out instead haha. I'm very glad words finally came out of me again and I hope you enjoyed it <3 BIG SMOOCH
General Taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @leeknowslefteyebrow @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @corgilover20 @littlelostdemonofthelight @stephanieeeyang @zulie-and-cats @chanshugsaretherapy @pizzalove5000 @dazzlingjade @milie-com @thequibbie @channiesrightasscheek @strawbrriz @delulustardust @velvetskize @channiefever @luvbangchan @aalexyuuuhm @katsukis1wife @herpoetryprincess @ye0lkkot @glitterywastelandgardener @vampcharxter @boi-bi-ahaha @mlink64 @greyyeti @mariteez
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off-mozzarella · 16 days ago
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If you saw me posting this 30 times no you didn't ♡
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azureblooet · 3 months ago
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Separate cotl opinion/headcanon
The fight with Nari was not close. The Lamb kicked his ass.
thats all thanks for coming
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teaboot · 3 months ago
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Sometimes I think a lot about my mom's cat
My mom's cat is a common domestic shorthair we found on the side of the road as a kitten
Regular cat, not a maine coon or one of those massive breeds. His mom was smaller than a loaf of bread
But in a sort of a Clifford The Big Red Dog situation, he grew super fast, and really really big, and took a super long time to stop growing
Worried that she was overfeeding him, she eased back his portions, but he stayed a massive round baby
When he started having kidney problems, she took him to the vet.
The vet took a look at him and said, "holy fuck, what are you feeding him", checked the nutritional listings on his chow, and told her "Yeah, maybe he's reacting badly to the amount of grain in this, try a meatier diet"
So my mom wound up special-ordering this specific high-protein prescription cat food made of like. Kangaroo meat or some shit that cost like sixty bucks a bag
And, as typical act two in an episode of House, he somehow got worse on the fancy specialized stuff that was supposed to be Primo Athlete Olympic Feline Blend
Like. WAY worse. His guts were inflamed and his kidneys were shutting down and he was all sore and HE WAS STILL HUGE, just miserable and sad
So shetook him back to the vet, where they had to help him pee (he was apparently close to bursting and had some kind of blockage too) and went "Yeah no this is NOT normal and we don't know what's going on, we're gonna do some tests but in the meantime you should go back to what he was eating before, at least that wasn't actively killing him" so she did
And he still wasn't great, but he also improved
And so they take his blood and do an ultrasound and a couple g's later she gets a call back like "this is gonna sound crazy, but we want you to put him on a low-meat diet. Just the least amount of protein and iron and shit. We need you to find the grainiest, filler-iest dollar tree kibble available and give him some of that bad bad shit"
And my mother is a woman of science. So she did
And he GOT BETTER
His energy picked back up, inflammation went down, he started drinking normally again, got back to pissing like a fuckin champion
And so it turns out that out of all the random ass freeway bonus cats we possibly could have scooped out of a ditch, WE got the one-in-a-million freak of nature with a SPECIFIC genetic defect that means a paleo protein free range diet is essentially poison and he THRIVES on cheap ass garbage
Like. He medically NEEDS junk food
I dont really understand how that works, but i cant argue with results.
If we had four of him, they'd outweigh my mom. And he's FINE
Also blind, but that's unrelated
Im not using him as a symbol or a metaphor or anything. I just keep catching myself thinking about my mom's Big Fucking Cat
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tonycries · 6 months ago
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My Oh My - R.S.
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Synopsis. Trick or treat! The mean ínmate in Room 6/9 doesn’t want halloween candy - he wants something else much, much sweeter.
Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, ínmate! Sukuna, slight foódplay, creampíes, bràt-taming, use of “góod girl”, MEAN softíe Sukuna, PÚSSYDRUNK Sukuna, oraI (fem receiving), fíngering, Sukuna’s piercings and tattoos, dry-húmping, squírting, spítting, bódy worshíp, exhíbitionism, slight Gojo x Reader, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 6.7k (sigh)
A/N. Yes, the seventh day of k!nktober had to be Sukuna even tho I’m a Gojo-gagger…
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“Nanami chill.”
It’s twelve in the dead of Halloween, and Nanami Kento does, in fact, not chill - not when he’s five hours deep into overtime at the most high security prison in all of Japan, running on only three cups of caffeine and the promise of a day off sometime in the next year. 
“You know I can’t do that.” he rubs his throbbing temples, heaving out a sigh as he often does. Taking one long look around the glaringly empty surveillance office, “Especially not today of all days.”
You’re humming in flippant agreement, but that only makes the furrow in your partner’s brows deepen even more. “I know I know. But don’t you think the inmates deserve something a lil’ special today? I mean, he-” Pointing at the grainy CCTV footage on your computer screen - showing one, Ryomen Sukuna, in his padded cell. Watching. Waiting. “-didn’t get a single visitor all year.”
And before Nanami can even think to open his mouth, you’re already dusting down your uniform. Grabbing the bowl of candy propped between you two that you’d swiped from the break room. 
“Wait-”
“After all, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Now, you’ve always been told that you’re a little softer than most when it comes to your inmates - which perhaps wasn’t the best quality to have when your section was filled to the brim with the most infamous of yakuza and serial criminals. But they respected you. Hell, Nanami loved to roll his eyes at this one but - you think they almost liked you.
Especially Ryomen Sukuna.
You shiver at the long, long list of crimes of his that you had to memorize in your early days - distinctly remembering the way your laptop had crashed with just how far you had to scroll. 
Honestly, you weren’t surprised that the most wanted crime boss across the globe wouldn’t get anything other than public threats and a few snarling officers that laugh smugly in his face. Though, you have had to sift out a few perfumed fan mail from time to time. 
And even before you’d started this job, you knew of him - who didn’t? 
The King of Curses, they called him. And what a king he was.
Some say he was just a crook. Others say he was a beast that seemed like he had four arms and twice the power of any normal human being. 
Right before his arrest, the Curses owned half of Japan’s revenue - he was untouchable. With his deceivingly innocent signature pink hair, those circling tattoos all across his body, and the dark, dark bloodthirst to get whatever he wanted. Whenever. And fast. 
It’d made international news when he was finally caught - only after a long, agonizing syndicate war between himself and the Six Eyes. It was your first day working here, and you were there to spy it firsthand when he was brought in. Shackles clanking along the metallic prison floor, towering well above the eight officers by his side, being hauled into that specialized cell like some animal. 
And, yet, through it all Sukuna was smiling - smiling like he knew something that everyone in this building didn’t. 
It still burns into your memory the way he’d stopped right in his tracks for the first time on his way up here, stalling for just a second. Two. Before looking right into your widened eyes, devilish grin only growing at your trembling figure.
Ryomen Sukuna had his eyes on you from the moment those handcuffs locked him in here. 
And he still did.
“Hey there, Kuna-” you’re humming after the long, tedious task of unlocking all sixteen padlocks on his heavy metal door. It clamors to a shut behind you with a deafening clang! Locked from the inside. With him. Alone. “How are we doing today?”
Sukuna was sat on the padded floor of his cell, knees brought up to his broad chest. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said he almost looked like a scolded child - had it not been for the custom-made metal cuffs that restrained him up to his very forearms. A matching leather muzzle drawn tight to cover half of his pretty face. 
He was the very epitome of all you should stay away from in this prison. 
And, yet, you find yourself walking towards him, carefully trying not to step on the hefty chains of his shackled ankles. 
It surrounds you like an iron serpent, clinking lightly when he’s raising his half-lidded eyes to look up at you. “Heh- will it reduce my sentence if I say s’better now that you’re here, brat?” 
Sukuna’s deep baritone was husky with disuse, hitching sharply at the end of his sweet little nickname for you. From what little you could make out behind the muzzle, you catch the slow, sultry curl of his plump lips. “Or should I say-” His gaze trickles down to your glinting golden badge, narrowing. “-officer.”
You’re rolling your eyes, “You and I both know we’re past all that, Sukuna.”
“Not past that enough, dontcha think?” he’s cracking his neck with a slight tilt side by side, as if he hadn’t even realized how long he’d been sitting here until you’d wandered your way inside. Cocking his head up slightly at the small glass bowl still clutched in your hands, “Somethin’ sweet from someone sweet f’me?”
“Oh-” you’re sputtering out. He knew exactly what buttons to push to tease and toy with you without even lifting a finger. “-yes, trick or treat! Since it’s Halloween I thought I might as well share the spirit.”
He’s bellowing out a husky laugh that rumbles from deep within his chest, and you have to tear your eyes away from the slight, sinful sliver of tan skin that peeks out at the jostle of his thin cotton t-shirt. 
You hated to admit it - but you almost understood exactly why Sukuna got so many fan letters that you had to throw out. A secret you’d whispered to Nanami over break and then never again after he fully ignored you for a week afterwards. 
Sukuna takes his languid time stretching out his limbs, and you get the distinctly hot feeling that he’s doing this on purpose. One eye cracked to watch your every jolt when the hem of his t-shirt raises just a bit too high, when his long, long legs nudging lightly against your feet. 
You huff, “Well, would ya like some or not? Because I can just give all of it to Mahito in the next cell-”
“Ah, you’re so damn hot when you’re mad.” he grins, and now you know he’s having fun with you. “Fuckin’ demanding, too.” 
He’s bringing up his two firmly restrained arms up to your line of vision. “And, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, silly girl, but m’a little ah- preoccupied, here.”
Oh, right. 
Shit. 
It would’ve been so easy to just move your fingers over to the keys in your backpocket and unlock his handcuffs for the slightest second. So easy to shut his cocky mouth up by doing the very things he knows he won’t goad you into doing. 
But you sneak a glimpse up at the camera positioned at the very corner of the room - trained on the hunched over-figures of the two of you - as if to say, “Hey, see, Nanami?” 
“Nice try.” And you swear you hear the great Ryomen Sukuna gasp - gasp - a sharp, tiny inhale when you reach out towards the very back of his muzzle. Your fingers scratching up lightly against his silken tresses as you feel for the clasp, letting it fall to the ground in a sad pile. Soft - it’s the first thing on your mind, and the next was how unfairly attractive Sukuna looked without his muzzle. “But you’re not going anywhere.”
He just beams up at you, showing off his slightly sharpened canines. Facial tattoos almost as sinful as the darkened glint in his eyes, “Heh- as if I’d wanna go absolutely anywhere else right now.”
Before you can snap back - or more likely, make a fool out of yourself to his amusement - he cranes his neck desperately upwards. “So? Jus’ gonna stand there givin’ me a pretty view or what?”
Too soon, you’re realizing what he wants.
And too readily, you’re crouching down till you’re eye-level with his greedy gaze. Hastily unwrapping one of the candies, “Open wide.”
Sukuna only grins. “Get closer would ya? M’not a fuckin’ giraffe now, am I?”
Fuck. 
Wordlessly, you inch closer.
“Closer. These chains aren’t as long as they look y’know.”
And closer. 
“Just a bit more- I don’t bite. Promise.”
And- 
“Good girl.”
Before you know it - Sukuna has you exactly where he wants you. Losing your fragile balance to topple over into his awaiting lap, manspread, cushioning your fall. His biceps flex against his restraints, as if some second nature of his wanted to wrap those tattooed arms around your waist.
“I-” you’re gasping, palms gliding over his feeble uniform. Feeling every curve and divot along his hard front- fuck, he felt like a wall of bricks. So toned underneath that fabric, your chin rests softly on the valley between his plush pecs. “I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to-”
“S’perfect though, isn’t it?” he’s cutting you off, leaning in so close now that you could feel your cheeks heat with each of his feverish puffs of air. The very tip of his nose kissing yours. “Now you can reach me- honestly, why complain when life gives ya lemons, woman.”
Your breath hitches, “I…”
“So? Gonna gimme some of that sweetness?”
You’re still unsure of what’s happening. And all you can do is to wordlessly bring the sweet treat up to his lips, almost flinching when the warm softness of his lips brush up against your fingertips. 
And shit, you know what it must look like on the outside, you know that Nanami’s probably halfway through jumping out of his seat at the surveillance office already. 
But you really can’t bring yourself to think about that right now - not when Sukuna’s wrapping his rosy lips around your fingers. Eyes drooping shut slowly. Lazily. Lingering longer than necessary when his tongue swipes at the candy. 
It all but melts in your hand, and as soon as you’re about to pull back-
“Hold right there f’me now.”
You’re sure if Sukuna’s hands were freed then he’d have claimed a strong grip on your wrist already, because he was just nuzzling his face into your touch. Sighing out, “Can’t have my officer all dirty now, can I?”
His long, pink tongue comes up to just drag along your digits, making you keen at the slight scratch of his soft taste buds. One by one. Each of your fingers. Sucking, groaning. 
Smiling at you slyly, he’s dragging his tongue in between your index and your middle finger, slurping up all the sweetened candy from before. “What? Cat got yer tongue?”
“Y-you-”
“Y-y-y-you-” he mocks, baritone voice a few octaves dramatically higher than usual. Through his smirk, Sukuna bites down on the very tip of your index, making you wince at the sharp sting of his canines. “If ya got somethin’ to say then spit it out like the big girl you are.”
He’s so leeringly smug, watching back as you struggle to meet his intense gaze as if it was his favorite show. Oh, how he wants to tease you about that little good girl routine you put whenever you stop by his cell - always smiling, always in that snug uniform that made you look so irresistible, always talking to him so sweetly as if he wasn’t the king of curses himself.
Never in his life would he admit it, but it was so…cute.
And Sukuna half-expects you to jump back this very second, to throw another one of your pouts his way and scamper off back to the safety of your office. He expects you to-
“Kiss me.”
Oh. 
Fuck.
That was not what Sukuna expected - never in the hundreds of years he was sentenced to rot in this prison.
But, well, looking down at the way you were splayed out so prettily on his lap - your chin jutting forwards, hands steadied on his pecs, glossed-up lips all pursed for him - how could he ever say no?
In a split-second, he’s kissing you. 
And you’re kissing him back and fuck- is it intoxicating.
Sukuna meshes his lips against yours so slowly, savoring. Angling his head just enough to suckle on your honeyed lips, you’re feeling his hips gently buck upwards, drinking up your light groans. 
You mewl when he slides his soft tongue between your lips. And that’s when you learn that Sukuna has a tongue piercing, cold and metallic against your lips. He tastes so sweet - exactly like the artificial strawberry from the sweet earlier and-
“Hah-” you’re gasping at the soft clink! of something sweet, something hard being placed all prettily right in the middle of your tongue - the candy. Brows raising, “Isn’t that-”
“So what if it is?” he’s grunting, not letting you part too far away before sitting up even straight to surge his lips against yours. Mellow. Addicted. Sukuna just loved how sweet you were on him - even more so than that godforsaken candy. He’s craning upwards to nip lightly at your bottom lip, “Got a problem?”
You were so pliant on top of him, swiveling your hips down lazily at his question instead of answering. Over and over. And Sukuna almost finds it in himself to taunt you until you answer- before one manicured hand of yours grips his face, letting his sharp jaw slack open. 
Only giving the candy a few drippingly wet swirls inside your mouth before spitting - a thick wad of candied spit right onto Ryomen Sukuna’s tongue. Glistening against his piercing.
And he takes it. 
Surprisingly, hypnotically takes it. 
He groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he mouths in that tiny piece of strawberry candy back. You hear the crunch! of it underneath his teeth, kissing you even deeper to show off how he’d swallowed every tiny shard.  
Curling his legs around your form, it’s all it takes for his gaze to drop half-lidded, chest panting - heaving - he smiles a dangerous curve of his lips against yours. 
Sharp teeth glinting against your own, he chuckles. “I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun, dontcha think, brat?”
You can only take it when he rolls his yearning hips up into yours. You feel so dizzy at the massive outline of his half-hardened cock underneath you - solid, thorough inches girthing upwards against your heated cunt. 
“But first-” His teeth bite down on your lower lip, and he pulls. “-think m’gonna hafta hah- teach ya to be a good girl f’me.”
Clang!
All of a sudden, the heavy ripping of metal rings across your dazed head - and Sukuna’s just tearing apart his durable metallic handcuffs as if they were made of nothing but paper.
“What-” you gasp rubs over where the tough restraints had rubbed his skin redly raw, oh he just basks in all your sputtering disbelief. “You could remove it- but- but that was special grade?”
“Ya really thought a pile of trash like that would keep me put? Of course, I could fuckin’ get out, don’t be silly, woman.” He quirks a slitted brow with genuine confusion - almost as if he was offended at the very thought. And before you know it, Sukuna’s throwing away the useless pieces of junk towards a nestled corner of the cell - hitting exactly on the bullseye of that damn CCTV he hated so much. Both of you watch when it topples brokenly to the ground. He hums, low and sultry, “I just hadn’t found a good ‘nough reason until now.”
Almost immediately, his hands are on you. Everywhere. Anywhere.
Coaxing such pretty whines out of you when Sukuna ravages along every inch of your body, large calloused palms kneading down your tits, your waist, grabbing a handful of your ass. 
“Ohh- this s’the life.” he groans, all ten of his thick digits squeezing and teasing you. He’s leaning down to nip lightly at your ear lobe, “Almost makes me forget what a naughty girl ya actually are.”
“I’m not-” you answer immediately, but it comes out much more breathless than you intended and both of you know that. 
“Oh yeah?” Sukuna jostles the two of you so that you’re fully laid out across his hulking body now, and you’re squirming already - desperately trying to wiggle your hips down to where he was throbbing. To glide the sopping wet place between your thighs down his rock-hard erection. For this, you’re gifted with a branding slap! on the curve of your ass, Sukuna holding you firmly in place. “Doesn’t explain why you’re already s’fuckin’ wet like a slut, my pretty baby.”
You lick up the tattoo on his chin, “But- but Kuna-”
Another needy grind - another smack.
“Now what did I jus’ fuckin’ say?” he hisses, and the primal rasp in his tone just makes you drenched. 
And Sukuna notices - of course, he notices. Drunken red eyes widening, oh, he could almost feel how fucking soaking you were through all those clothes. Too many clothes, in his opinion.
Which is why he has one hand fisting furiously at your smart uniform shirt, not a single word or apology uttered before he just shreds it right off your heaving chest.
“Oh my god-” you squeal, your hands coming up to clutch at the tatters of fabric and your badge. And your lips pout out in such a way that makes his cock just twitch, mumbling out stubbornly, “That was my new uniform-”
“S’what happens when ya get too greedy like this.” His knees raise up a bit more to rub your glissading cunt along the very curve of his fat tip. Just dragging your dripping cunt all along his bulging dick, reveling in the sticky schwf! schwf! schwf! of wet fabric. Sukuna gives an impatient tug on the fabric of your pants, “Now get rid of this before I tear that off, too.”
You couldn’t shuffle out of your belt and trousers fast enough. And oh, even that wasn’t enough for Sukuna - dazedly flinging off what remained of your shirt, your bra, before turning his eyes downwards and-
“Oh, good girl.” he whispers at the sight of you in nothing but your flimsy excuse of panties. So soaked -  translucent, even - your saturated juices making such a glossy mess at your inner thighs. He can’t help but flick at the tiny bow on your underwear, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Such a good girl, aren’t ya?”
“K-Kuna-” you’re barely even thinking at this point, panting. “Wan’ to feel you–”
He’s tittering a breathy moan disguised as a laugh at this, bringing up a hand to cup your cheeks. “Awww, my pretty baby wants my cock?” he coos, squeezing in two of his thick fingers between your lips.
But if Sukuna was looking for an answer, then he doesn’t wait for it. 
A spit-glossed pout finds its way to his lips, mocking your own. And fuck, he was such a little tease. One hand giving your ass another slap! just to watch you whine and pretend that it didn’t make your pussy even more embarrassingly wet - shit, he was having fun. The other pulling out from inside your mouth, delicate strings of spit snap when he’s gliding his coated digits down, down, down-
“Oh-” you tuck your trembly head into the crook of his neck when Sukuna drags his thumb just across your puffed-up pussy lips. Slowly. Tantalizingly. 
“Oh?” he huffs out, licking his lips at just how steamingly wet you were inside. So ready for him. “‘Oh’ is all?” 
Sukuna plants another lingering smack on your ass, and by now you’re sure by now he’s left the bumpy imprint of all five fingers on your flesh. Tracing between your swollen folds gingerly with just the rounded tip of his finger up and down up and down. He gets greedy. 
“Damn brat-” And it’s all the warning you get before he just forces two of his fat fingers into your messily throbbing pussy. Rubbing all around your tightly quivering entrance, “S’what I get for spoiling you too much.”
There’s no hiding from the way he stretches you open so obscenely, having your sloppy hole just gaping around his digits. All wet and cozy inside.
“Oh- m-more-” you mewl. 
But he only continues rubbing saturated little circles around your teasing entrance, humming hotly against your lips. “Hmm, dunno. Think we hafta teach you some manners, silly girl.” And each of his fingers were so thick, stretching out the channel of your cunt until your mouth watered. Your body was limp, hips stuttering down softly into his hold - trying so uselessly to fuck yourself back down onto him, as if he wasn’t easily holding you still with just one beefy arm around your waist. “How about a ‘please’ first?”
You scramble to dig your nails into his bulky deltoids, tracing around his circular tattoos peeking out. “P-please!”
“Nuh uh-” he snickers. “No stutterin’”
“Please!”
Sukuna pretends to think for a few syrupy slow seconds. He nips down softly at the sensitive spots on your neck, having you trembling like a feather in his vice-like grasp. “How about a ‘pretty please’?”
And oh, he grins at the way you’re almost on the verge of tears at this point, your pouty lower lip wobbly with effort. Trying so desperately to comply with the demands of your inmate, you buck your hips so that the soft mountains on his palm graze against your clit. Whimpering, “Wh-what if I w-walked away right now, Kuna?”
“My my, resorting to threats?” he’s whispering filthily in your ear. “Now I know you’re bluffin’ woman. Because I hngh- also know-” So smug when he tugs down the soft cotton of his pants just enough to let his achy cock spring free. “That you’re gonna stay n’ beg f’me like the good girl you are.”
And you hated that he was right.
You hated that he was so big. 
Hefty girth slapping up onto his abs with a wet smack! Sukuna’s red, rounded tip was so thick that you could feel your thighs clench, swiping up a glossy glide of precum onto his t-shirt. Drip! Drip! dripping along the crevices of his veins and down to his eager balls, those tufts of pink at his base. All his solid inches winked up at you glisteningly in the harsh cell light. Just waiting. Throbbing. 
It made your mouth water. 
So you finally answer, voice strained and breaking at the very end. “I- I wan’ you really badly, Kuna.” He sucks in a breath when you bat your teary lashes up at him, “Pretty please?”
“My good girl.”
At this very moment, the only other response you get is a sensual, slow drag of his fingers out of your cunt. The exact opposite of what you wanted - because, of course, this was Ryomen Sukuna. You whine, clawing desperately at his wrist to try and reel him back.
But he doesn’t stop. Can’t stop. Almost hypnotized in the way he brings his drenched fingers up into his mouth without a second thought. Sukuna moans at the taste. A glossy trail of your messy slick forms down the corner of his slurping mouth, and he throws his head back with a guttural, “Oh fuck- s’sweeter than any of that hah- candy.”
Ah, that did it. 
Only milliseconds later, you’re being spread all flat on the floor with one swift shove of Sukuna’s big arms, panties sliding easily down your shivering thighs. It really doesn’t take much to have your dangling legs splayed out across his sculpted back, his own body shuffling down ravenously to come lips-to-lips with your puffy pussy.
And oh you can feel his smile against your dripping wet cunt, half-lidded eyes boring right up into yours. Long, pinkish tongue lolling out like he was utterly fucked - and if you angled your head just right you could see the way he was deftly spreading both of your swollen folds, the very tip of the hot muscle kissing wetly against your sloppy entrance.
“Shiiiit-” your fingers tangle themselves in his rusty pink hair. Hips jittery and bucking up drunkenly against the cool surface to chase his hot mouth. “Oh- ngh- Love havin’ your m-mouth on me- ngh-”
“Gettin’ all mouthy w’me, huh? Aren’t ya embarrassed to be absolutely ruined like this by a criminal like me?” he huffs out a bout of raspy laughter. “S’all because you decided to be a- fuck- a good- girl f’me, that’s- what.” Struggling to even get out coherent sentences because he didn’t want to part from your pretty pussy. Instead kissing all over again and again-
The bulbous metal stud of his tongue piercing thrashes up so filthily against your hot clit, coating the sensitive nub in all of his heady, swelteringly hot saliva.
And the only time you’re registering Sukuna break away just mere inches is to spit. Once. Twice. 
Thumbing across the stream of see-through spit he just grins up at you in a way you knew to be a pussydrunken expression. Glassy eyes almost drooping shut, tiny dimples cratering at the very ends of his lips, the entire lower half of his face covered in a shiny sheen of slick. Drip! Drip! Drip! right onto the middle of your shamefully spread cunt. 
“Ya got me thinkin’ I’d wanna live out my entire life sentences jus’ for a taste of this pretty pussy, woman.”
Roughly lapping with his tongue against your clit, each one pulling out crashing waves of white-hot pleasure that make you all but sob when Sukuna unabashedly adds in his fingers past your gummy hole.
“You can take it-” he hushes out uncharacteristically soothingly into your inner thighs, peppering soft, open-mouthed kisses along them. “Take ‘em f’me.”
Sukuna isn’t shy about immediately dragging his fingers along your sopping wet folds. Starting up a ruthless, simpering pace thrusting inside and out of your drooling entrance has you whining.  
“Oh.” your mouth slack-jaws open deliriously, and for the second time tonight you feel like you’re being absolutely split-apart on his thick fingers. Splaying out a hand to glide across your tummy, “You- hngh- you already feel s-so deep, Kuna.”
Your words were cracking with a whimper each time he’s delving into your gushing depths. Building you up, wringing you taut with pleasure whenever he picked up the pace. Alternating between harsh sucks on your cunt and the absolute meanest of swipes against the spongy placeholders of your sweet spots. 
“Already?” he has the audacity to cackle - cackle right in front of your teary face. “M’barely even f-fingering this pussy n’ you wanna talk about deep- lemme show ya-” He spares not even the tiniest ounce of mercy when hauling your boneless body even closer. Brows furrowing at the knocking of his chin at the very base of your cunt, the way his jaw grinded. Sukuna replaces the hand on your stomach with his own free one, guiding it up, up, up until your eyes widened and you could feel your breath tightening in your chest. 
“Here.” Drawing a burning, imaginary line about halfway through - “Here is where my cock s’gonna be so ya better get- better get ready for that, pretty baby.” Looking right in your eyes, Sukuna’s tone is laced with a vicious sort of snarl when he plows on, “Because my good girl s’gonna be able to take it.”
And you’d heard of the type or orgasms that leave you speechless, that leave you so blindsided that you don’t even realize you’re having them.
Because it takes only a few more expert tweaks of Sukuna’s lengthy fingers up against every nook and crevice of your. Scissoring, swirling - round and round until he was dredging up your dizzying orgasm. 
“Oh my god- I think I’m-” your words are garbling together pathetically, wet and as unsteady as each jolt of electricity running down your spine. “I’m-”
“Cumming.” he’s cutting through, tugging you by the thighs even closer to make out impossibly deeper with your convulsing pussy. Rolling his eyes, “I know I know, just shut up n’ cum all over my mouth would ya?”
It’s not like you could do anything else. 
And - as a little punishment - your grip tightens searingly on his scalp, just dragging your drooling pussy all over his pretty features. Letting yourself gush all down his tongue in a steady trickle while you ride him to your heart’s content. 
“Heh- getting so fuckin’- hngh- fucking greedy, aren’t ya?” he mutters out over wet slurps. Still hammering in the pads of his fingers to press up harshly into your bulging sensitive spots. “S’alright. Use me then, use me-” 
Your back arches almost painfully, vision tinging with slight black at the edges, and it’s as if you were out of control at this point. 
“Now now, what do you think you’re doin’ huh?” he feeds into each of your stuttering, slick glides down into his palm while you come down from your high. Eyes narrowing down at you, “And here I thought you were turnin’ into my- hah- g-good girl. Where are those hands going, huh?”
Shit, you didn’t even realize it at first.
Your hands are wandering so sluttily down to where his thickened base was just twitching in his lap. Aching to wrap your trembly fingers wrapping around him - struggling to even close. 
“Oh- oh my god.” your eyes widen after a few sloppy drags of your soft palm down his length. Curving it slightly to the side at the sight of another one of his signature ringed tattoos - right around his fat base. “You have another tattoo here?”
Sukuna clenches his jaw, hips rutting upwards at a sloppy staccato in synchronization with his hands and yours. “Yeah- n’ I already know you love it-” he shudders out, chest panting. “-because I can already feel just how much wetter ya got- shit-”
With all of his almost-inhuman strength, it’s almost too easy for Sukuna to drag your body downwards to his like some silly little ragdoll. 
“Kuna–” you’re dragging out in a breathy tone. Your hands shakily tugging on his t-shirt - your mind finally clear enough to realize that he was still fully clothed while you bare and fucked-out already underneath him. “Wan’ this off-”
Smack!
“Forgettin’ your place, aren’t ya, pretty baby?” he growls, but fuck did Sukuna think you looked so utterly gorgeous like this. All pouty and teary, letting out the cutest whines while you waited for him to do exactly what you said. 
And, well, he might be the notorious king of curses, the most wanted criminal in all of Japan - but that didn’t mean that Sukuna was any match for you. 
“M’only listenin’ because you were so f-fuckin’ good f’me hngh- earlier, brat.” he spits out. Hastily ridding himself of both that paper-thin t-shirt and pants - not tearing, you note with slight disgruntlement. Kissing your ass with another smack of his palm for good measure. You wince when he flicks your forehead, “So ya better not let it get to that pretty lil’ head of yours.”
But fuck, was it so difficult not to. 
Sukuna was so mouth-wateringly gorgeous, all sculpted muscle and what looked to be miles upon miles of tanned skin that you just wanted to bite into. And you realize - with a jolt - that when those other inmates rumored he had tattoos everywhere - they weren’t lying. Thick, circular rings that highlight his bulging biceps, those toned thighs as far as your eye could see. 
Now you really understood the fan mail.
Smack! Smack! Smack! 
Those drippingly wet smacks this time didn’t come from Sukuna’s hands on your ass - instead, it was from calculated, purposeful little slaps of his thick cock onto your clit.
“Heh, as much as I love to have my- ngh! my cute lil’ officer ogling me-” His hand coming up to curl around your throat, forcing you to peer downwards. “-I’d rather you look where it r-really matters, silly girl.”
He sounded so proud - barely lucid already at the very sight of your tight, glistening hole kissing up against his fat tip. 
Dragging a thumb down your wet slit to grin at the size difference even further, he purrs, “Yeah…this pussy has been givin’ me a real treat tonight. Might as well give her one back, hm?”
And he’s so big, so full that you can’t even whine out anything coherent when Sukuna sinks into your sloppy cunt inch by fucking solid inch. Pushing past that ring of feeble resistance, your pussy was greedily swallowing up every bit of his massive girth. Letting out the cutest squelches that make him moan. 
“Oh- would ya look at that?” he bares his teeth in a devilish smile. Head thrown back at how you’re already clamping and trying to milk him with your velvety walls. “Takin’ me so well, ya really are such a good girl, huh?”
Each and every hoarse little praise is panted raggedly against your ear, and your pussy slides up and down his swollen shaft in a sultry back and forth. And Sukuna just can’t tear his eyes away from the way your cunt swallows him up so greedily - so frantically like you were trying to milk something delicious out of him.
“Kuna- hngh!” your thighs quiver up and down. Hips moving in slow gyrations against how he was rummaging all inside you. “Y-you’re stretching me out so good ah-”
He’s still trying to squeeze inside, still pushing and pushing. Pressing a hand down on your stomach, “Told you I’d be right-” Bottoming out. Hard. “-here.”
Each and every juttering ram into your gooey depths have you keening, and his eyes growing even wilder. Grin curling upwards at how every kiss of the very tip of his rotund cock has your spongy cervix bouncing into him, your walls pulsing where he swipes inside. Looking for-
“Fuck!”
That. 
“Heheh- hope ya can take it, brat. Because once I start-” he presses hot peck after peck down your jaw. “I can’t stop.”
You learn very quickly that that wasn’t a threat - it was a promise. 
Every plunge into your melty pussy has you almost bawling, because Sukuna wasn’t gentle - no, he doesn’t even ease you into it. The soft curve of his head presses in so harshly against your bulging g-spot, so thoroughly in rough, wet glides. Each single hammer upwards sinking against wherever drove out the prettiest moans from your pouty lips, having you such a shaky mess underneath of him. 
Exactly how he’s  been wanting you this past year in confinement.
“W-what-” you sputter out, dragging your nails across his neck to mash your lips onto his. Tasting the candy and you and the candy- “This past year?”
Oh. Shit. 
“Heheh- did I say that out loud?” Sukuna rumbles, struggling to catch his breath while he swallows back each keened-out whimper threatening to break out from his lips. He gives your tongue a slow, tasteful suck. “Whoops- hah fuuuuck- you see what this pussy does t’me?”
He brings one large hand down to your jittery hips, the other drawing a tender stripe across your still-sensitive clit. That heavenly feeling just makes you clench, and Sukuna to throw his head back with a withering groan. “S’fuckin’ dangerous- you’re more fuckin’ dangerous than me- hah-”
You giggle at the way he was running his mouth now, sentences slurring together like he couldn’t even find the words. 
“You see this-” he pants, so sensitive that Sukuna can’t help but tuck his face into the crook of your neck. And you feel the burning flush of his cheeks, the way he brings your hand up to pat his plush pec, thumping thunderously underneath his heated skin. “-got me fuckin’ crazy here- ngh! M’on my knees for you n’ you’re all here actin’ like such a good girl.”
As he babbles, Sukuna actually falls back onto his knees. 
Dragging you right along with him to spearhead his cock vertically into your snug channel, his powerful thighs are thrusting up, up, up-
“Oh-” You’re wrapping your arms tightly around his neck when faced with another stinging smack! And this time he takes the opportunity to roll his fat thumb even deeply against your clit. “S’so-”
Sukuna’s eyes were half-lidded now, grumbling out little profanities into your mouth. “What? Can’t even speak now?” He chuckles - but it sounds higher-pitched, breathless like he was fucking losing it. “Doesn’t- ngh- doesn’t matter- this cunt is speakin’ ‘nough for the both of ya. Why dontcha act like my good girl n’ ask what she’s sayin’?”
God, your face burned with such mortification - and it’s all you can do to dart a bleary look towards that smashed CCTV camera once more. Gulping out a breathy, “Wh-what is she ah- sayin’, Kuna?” over those deafening squelch! squelch! squelches. 
He positively beams, “She’s saying…” Nipping down on your lower lip, tasting that familiar strawberry on your tongue. “-that right about now she’s gonna cum.”
And sure enough, a particularly harsh clashing glide across your g-spot has you sobbing, has you twitching - it has you cumming. Over and over all over Sukuna’s relentless cock, and not just that-
“Shit, woman.” Sukuna stares, jaw-dropped in awe at the absolute mess your overwhelmed cunt was gushing out. Coating his erratic thighs in a wet gleam of all your juices, it seeps into his skin, dripping down the curve of his legs and onto the padded floors. “Fuckin’ squirted all over me, you’re fuckin’ ah- unreal- fuck–”
If he couldn’t maintain that gruff tone of it that’s because he was genuinely in heaven. Mouth watering, achy cock twitching up into the cushiony sides of your walls once. 
Before he’s shooting such a sloppy load into your already-messed-up pussy, dumping out thick volumes of seed again and again. It sloshes in all over your insides with every quivering wave of your own orgasm, seeping out from the edges of your sopping slit. Slobbering. Overspilling. 
Sukuna grunts, feeling you shift gingerly up and down to milk each of his stringy ribbons of cum, leaving sinful dredge after dredge that paints a creamy white ring around his base. 
“Fuckin’ wastin’ it-” he’s jeering, plugging in one of his indexes into your already fully-stuffed entrance. “Better keep that shit all inside- m’not gonna let my good girl waste it, m’kay?”
“Mhm.” you nod, your drowsy body leaning heavily into his. And Sukuna wraps both his strong arms around you to just pin you to his body. “Might jus’ be the best Halloween I’ve ever had-”
“It fuckin’ better be or so help me-”
SLAM!
“Yo, King of Curses~” both of you snap your heads over to the sudden intruder that’d just crashed the bolted cell door open. He was tall, enveloped by the harsh light from behind - but you could make out those features anywhere. Any guard in this prison could. Throwing over a heavy leather jacket Sukuna’s way, “I tried to wait until your pillowtalk was over but Nanamin can only hold off the bastards on morning shift for so long. So ah chop chop, Suguru’s already waiting for us.”
Gojo Satoru.
Leader of Six Eyes, foe of Ryomen Sukuna. 
Looking at you like he wanted to positively devour you, “Or, well, if your cute lil’ officer’s coming, too, then we could continue this when we get back to the hideout. Don’t you think, sweetheart~”
And Sukuna, oh Sukuna was scowling ever so slightly at the other’s words - but he only had eyes for you. “So, whaddaya say, brat?”
---
In the hazy haven of the surveillance room, Nanami lets out a deep shudder. Head thrown back against his leather chair, he takes a few bleary moments to collect his breath. 
“Fuck…” he groans, placing that small handheld camera monitor on the table. A secret one. One that no one working in this prison building - and least of all you - knew about. All of that had been an accident, really - an unintentional part of the plan. But the way that Nanami has to drag his boxers upwards, zipping his uniform pants back up wasn’t. 
Taking a steadying gulp, he throws away that soiled tissue. Fingers punching in a few numbers on his phone, all according to his rehearsed script. “Yes, hello?” watching the monitor unwavering. Unsurprised. “We might have a situation.”
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A/N. *BAM* hits you with random plottwist.
Plagiarism not authorized.
10K notes · View notes
nezuscribe · 5 months ago
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it's been three weeks since arranged!gojo, your husband, the man you're growing to care deeply for, told you he'd be back.
there was some dispute he needed to oversee with the eastern tribes, something about the land that one was fighting for, but he promised, promised, it wouldn't take over a week to settle.
now it's been nearly a month, and there has not been a single word from him.
your maids told you this was normal, but you didn't miss how they spoke in hushed tones, their brows furrowed nervously whenever the name gojo came up.
you can't sleep in his bed, the smell of him overtaking your senses and making you go insane. you go back to your old room, huffing as you turn around each night, not able to sleep. other times you'd pace the floors, picking at your nails until they bled, wondering about what could've happened, not able to shake off your last moments with him whenever you got to thinking too hard.
"i'll be back," he had murmured in your hair, cradling you close to his chest as he said his goodbyes. his strong arms caged you in, and you had no room to fight him off as you tried to nod.
"bring back some eastern sugar," you said, "i've heard it's good for pies," your words were muffled, trying to cheer up the mood. you heard him laugh, his chest rumbling a little bit, but there was a hint of anxiety laced in it.
"i'll miss you," gojo finally whispered, his men in the background shouting for the others to hurry up.
"i know," you mumbled, craning your head to look up at him, trying to crack a smile that just came out wobbly, "but i won't tell you i missed you till you come back."
he smiled, rolling his eyes as his thumb ran up and down your cheek.
"i promise i will."
well now it's four weeks later and you can't sleep at night, your past words haunting you, wondering if you should've just told him what he wanted to hear in case...
but a couple nights later, when you're sitting at your desk, looking out the window, you hear it.
the clacking of horse hoofs, their scattered neighs.
you almost think you've gone delirious from sleep deprivation, rubbing at your eyes as you stumble closer to the windowsill, squinting your eyes as you look in the dark.
but you see the distant torch, the way it's getting closer and closer to the estate.
you have no care for modesty, pulling a thin robe over your body as you run out of your door, nearly falling down the stairs as you skip every other one, your bare feet hitting the stone with such force that you nearly break it.
the maids and servants around you are bustling to get ready for their return, but you don't care, weaving your way through their bodies as you run out through the entrance. you can feel your feet getting scraped up by the rocks, the cold autumn wind biting at your barely clad skin, but you feel like you're not moving fast enough.
his horse is the first one you see, leading the group of tired and aching men. his black stallion is dark as the night itself, and you doubt he can see you.
but gojo does, and when his eyes find the shadow of your body from across the field he's abandoning formation, his feet kicking the side of the horse to make it go faster.
it's rushed, and the closer he gets the more you can see the damage on his body. the bandages around his arms, the ones that peek out from his tunic on his shoulder. his face is littered with scrapes and bruises, but his smile is blinding.
you run to meet him, watching as he mounts off of the animal, his strong arms throwing themselves around you are nearly crushing and almost makes you stumble backward if not for his support.
there's a heavy silence that follows, and you're glad that his men take the hint to go another way, knowing the dangers of leaving you two out alone on a field.
you can't breathe, your arms so tight around his neck that you're worried you might be choking him. the way he lifts you to get you closer to him would make your body heat up if not for the fact that you know he needs you to be almost one with him.
"i thought you died," you say bluntly, your words said wetly into his neck, your scattered tears wetting his skin.
"i know," gojo murmurs, feeling like he can finally breathe for the first time in a month.
he finds your lips in a messy kiss, biting at your plush skin as you moan, feeling like if he didn't have you near to him he'd probably die. he smells your lavender oil dotted on your neck, the lingering sweetness on your lips from something you probably baked to help with your stress.
his hands lift you up further by your hips, his strength, despite his injuries, still unbridled as you wrap your legs around his waist, your fingers weaving into his snow-white locks as you hear him mumble curses beneath you.
"i missed you," you say against his lips, his feverish kisses driving you to madness. the way you say it with a choked-out sob, your tears mixing with his own.
gojo whines, biting at your neck as he tries to hide his face away, the vulnerability that you bring out of him is something that even his enemies would probably gawk over.
"i promised i'd come back," his voice is nearly gone with the way he says it in between his sloppy kisses on your neck, tugging at the fabric that hides the bareness of your chest with his teeth.
you crane your head to look at him, hitting the back of his head gently with an angered look.
"three weeks late," you reprimand him, almost reveling in the stricken and kicked look he gives you with those eyes.
he goes to say something but stops, shuffling your weight onto one of his arms (he had the right to brag about his strength), and rummages around one of the pockets of his trousers, pulling out a bag as he waves it in front of your face.
you gasp, suddenly climbing off of him as you turn it around with your fingers. he pouts at the fact that you detached from him, trying to wrap his arms around your waist to haul you back up.
"is this...?" you look up at him, new tears sprouting in your eyes as you wail, almost dramatically as your head hits his chest with a thump, pulling him into another hug as you seem to sob louder from when you first saw him.
"you cry more over the sugar than me?" he mutters petulantly, his hand still cradling the back of your head as you just limply stand there.
"don't ever leave again." you bite out, pinching his back as he yelps, but still leaving a searing kiss on the side of your face.
"i won't...my lady," he whispers teasingly, and this time, his promise is undying. he'd be a stupid man if he ever willing left this again.
fuck those state affairs. gojo would rather be home with his wife, watching her bake as she scolds him for eating her batter.
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fairy-angel222 · 11 months ago
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𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐏✶𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑, 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑
GETO SUGURU X FEM! READER
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✶⋆.˚cw: smut, choking, pussy and face slapping, praise, degradation, recording, breeding, dumbfication, i love you’s
✶⋆.˚a/n: first one shot in a line set up for this whole concept ;) requested by anon.
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Geto was a kinky man when he wanted to be. Loving the idea of recording each time he fucked you. Balls slapping noisily onto your wet clit as his hand curled in your hair. Lifting your face up into the camera with a degrading coo.
It was a fit of pure boredom that brought him to take it one step further. Convincing you that you two should share the videos. Make everyone see just how good he was destroying you in bed.
When you had agreed, you had never expected the millions of notifications you received within the first week. The comments on how hot you two were as a couple. How hot Geto looked fucking into you. How hot you looked getting fucked by Geto.
You even received some suggestions on videos your new “fans” wanted to see. Hundreds of thousands of people willing to watch, to get off to, anything that you two decided to post.
It was scary and amusing, but Geto was all for it. His chest swelled with pride knowing that so many men now wanted you but couldn’t have you. Knowing that he was the only one who could fuck you so damn good.
You never expected to find yourself agreeing, your lip between your teeth as you read through the comments. Some of the bold suggestions making your thighs clench at the thought of your boyfriend doing these things to you.
The account quickly rose to the top as the weeks went by. And you never got tired of the many positions Geto would flip you into, fucking into you meanly while praising you so degradingly. Showing the world how fast you turned to putty in his hold.
You attracted many different audiences. Your favorite were those girls who swooned not at him, but at you two on a whole. The way he held you, the way he checked up on you when he was done being rough. The aftercare. They thought your relationship was perfect, and would never fail to let you know.
It wasn’t long until people began demanding more of you two in a non porn setting, your other social medias blowing up with those who just couldn’t get enough of your lives. How much cuter Geto was with you out of bed. The many dates he took you on, the gifts he bought you. Everything.
It became something that your fans loved to see. Your relationship on a whole. Their little comments like ‘so cute!’ , ‘i love them so much’ , ‘you guys need to get married’ , ‘my favorite couple ever’ never failed to make your heart swell.
They respected your privacy of course. But would take anything that was put out for their consumption. Porn or otherwise.
“𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃’𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊”
Was what the title of your latest video read, your fans quick to click on the thumbnail the second it got posted. Many already positioning themselves on their beds. Others plugging in their headphones around coworkers or friends. They knew from a mere four seconds in that they already loved what they saw.
Your hands and knees were trembling as your back arched. Fat tears flowing down your cheeks as you begged your boyfriend to touch you. “Please Sugu— please touch me. Wanna feel your cock so bad.” You moaned, wiggling your ass towards him with a needy mewl.
“Does my greedy girl want me to fuck her dumb? Is that what you want pretty?”
“Mhm, need you.”
He was more than happy to comply, not taking long until he was fucking into you roughly from behind. Your body jerking forward each time his hips hammered against your ass.
“S-suguu. Feels so good,” You mewled, Geto’s hand snaking around your throat to pull you up against his chest, forcing you to make eye contact with the blinking red light in front of you.
His breath fanned your ear, lips ghosting over your skin as he groaned deeply. “If only you could see what they see baby. See yourself moan like a slut in heat while that pretty lil’ pussy sucks me in.”
You let out a loud hiccuped moan, Geto’s cock slamming meanly into your g spot before fucking deep inside you. The small outline of his tip barely visible to the device’s lens. “See how much of a mess you are f’me.”
He felt so good. And your head was spinning as he fucked into you with no mercy. Your shaky whimpers echoing throughout the room as Geto molded your pussy around his cock.
“Nngh— sugu ‘m so full. Love your cock s’ muchh.” Your words were slurred as his other hand reached around to rub small circles on your clit. Your sopping pussy leaking lewdly onto the sheets below as he continued to roll his hips up into you.
“Tell them who’s fucking you so good baby.” He grunted, hand on your throat landing two soft slaps onto each of your teary cheeks before settling right back into place on your neck. The light sting pulling a string of whiney moans past your drool filled lips as you pressed further into him.
“You are. You are Sugu. You’re f-fucking me so good ‘nd i love it— haah. Wan’ you to fuck me like this forever.” You babbled, words muffled by an incoherent cry as your hands gripped his muscular arm. Using him for support when your head grew fuzzy, blanking out everything but the feeling of him inside you.
Geto smirked, “That’s my girl.”
You yelped when you were shoved into the mattress. Your back arched deeply with your torso flat on the sheets. Geto’s hand on the back of your neck forcing you to stay cheek down as he switched up his pace.
The new position allowed him to hit so much deeper. Your needy cries going straight to his cock as you drooled messily. Eyes rolling back with a loud moan every time he gave you a harsh thrust forward, sensitive nipples rubbing on the bed till you were clenching down repeatedly. Loud squelches filling the air as your pussy coated his cock in its slick.
“Sugu, ‘m gonna cum.” A trembling cry. “‘M so close.” You could feel your stomach tightening, breathing getting heavier as you gripped the sheets tightly.
“Yeah? Gonna make a fucking mess for me. Show them how good i fucked you today?” He cooed, watching as you nodded dumbly before letting out a choked moan. “Mhm.”
Geto groaned, palm landing onto your clit so he could watch you jerk with a whimper. Your body quivering when he pulled back you up, arms hooking under your legs to lift you off the bed. Body being moved up and down as he used you as his personal fleshlight. Bouncing you on and off his cock till you were crying uncontrollably, his harsh kisses to your sweet spot shooting to every sensitive nerve in your pussy.
“Suguruu. I- nngh, you’re— ahh.” You didn’t know what you were trying to say, your body being manhandled however he liked for your tight pussy to stroke his length. Your toes curling as your head fell back onto his shoulder.
“Shhh baby, it’s okay. Just take it yeah? Doing so fucking well.” Your legs remained dangling over his arms as he used you to both your delights, feeling yourself ready to let go with another shrieked cry. “F-fuckk. ‘M gonna— oh god.”
“You know they love to see that pretty face when you cum baby, look up at the camera f’me.”
You did as you told, head spinning as you attempted to keep it up right. Focusing on the delicious stretch of your walls to accommodate your boyfriend’s girth.
“Go on baby. Let go. ‘M right there behind you.”
Your mouth hung open in what your fans liked to call an adorable scream as your legs shook. Glossy eyes making content with the camera as you squirted messily. The force of the clear liquid making Geto grunt when it threatened to push his cock out of you.
“There you go.. fuck— that’s my good girl. ‘M gonna fill you up so good now. Gonna stuff that tight pussy to the brim with my cum.” He husked, movements getting sloppy as his abs tensed. Lips parted in deep breaths as his eyes rolled back, something that your audience loved to see.
His cock twitching within your warmth with a string of cracked groans when he buried himself deep. Allowing himself to pump you full of the creamy liquid, painting your insides in sticky white.
He pulled out slowly, still holding you up so the camera could pick up the way your little gaped hole fluttered around nothing. His cum running down your puffy folds in thick spurts. “Look at that baby, sopping pussy’s making a big mess.”
Geto set you down with a smile before kissing you sweetly, taking you into his arms and rocking you back and forth in a hug while placing tiny pecks all over your face. “You did so fucking amazing. That was hot.” Leaning into your ear so that his next words wouldn’t be picked up. “If they don’t jerk off to this i promise you i will.”
You could only hum with flushed cheeks , falling into his chest with a small giggle. “I can’t feel my legs.”
Your boyfriend chuckled, “Ya hear that? She can’t feel her legs.” He grinned at the camera making you both laugh, his attention turning back to you with another passionate kiss. “Don’t worry, i’m gonna get you all mice and cleaned up okay? Gonna take real good care of you.”
“M’kay, love you Sugu.”
“I love you more sweetheart.”
It was no surprise the amount of love you got for the video. It was hard to believe that your account could grow anymore than it already had. The comments seemed to be hooked on how Geto could go from fucking you relentlessly to being the sweetest boyfriend telling you that he loves you.
That amongst thousands of men making it known that they came to the sight of you squirting, that one made Geto a little angry. And the thousands of women begging your boyfriend to be next, like that would ever happen.
You refrained the urge to respond to all the demands for more with the fact that you had loads of others coming up. Some with your boyfriend alone and others with.. guests. But they would have to have the patience to see for themselves.
8K notes · View notes
lokissweater · 6 months ago
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little mouse
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{toge inumaki x f!reader}
summary: toge inumaki, the barista at your local campus coffee shop, is the cutest man to ever cross your life— the both of you clicking fast and becoming the best of friends as the years flew by together… but you were in love. uncertain of crossing that line between friendship and lovers as you focused mainly on trying to see if he even liked you back. but as for toge? he was focused on trying not to burden you for the rest of your life because of his inability to speak, wanting you and only you, but juggling and tormented over his labored silent existence, hurting you in the process.
warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, college!au, FLUUUFFFF SO MUCH, pet names, TOGE LOVES YOU BROOO, angst!!! but with comfort!!, happy ending, SMUTTTT, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, doggy hehe, mentions of alcohol and drinking, sorority party, toge is a barista ouuu, cursing, best friends to lovers trope, reader and toge argue, all characters are aged up.
word count: 15.2k
authors note: YEEEOOOOWWWWW this fic was originally NOOTTTT supposed to be 15k but i’ve said it once and i’ll say it again I CAN NEVA STOP YAPPING MY GOD??? i hope you guys love this one as much as i do though it is SOOOOOO CUTEEE man :(( thank you SO SO MUCH for your love and support as ALWAYS, AND I LOVE YOUUUU AHHH MWAH MWAH HAVE A GOOD DAY OKAY <333
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anyone that was a regular at the shop knew toge inumaki didn’t really ever speak.
and it was something you found out on your first day of college, running to the nearest coffee shop at eight-thirty in the fucking morning looking for something to snack on and wake you up before lecture, choosing to go to the one just around the corner from campus through a recommendation of a friend— but not knowing at all that you were about to run into the cutest man to ever plague your god damn existence, as well as your bestest friend in the entire world.
toge was the main barista and cashier at the shop, his mixology skill incomparable as no one else on the floor could replicate it successfully without errors the way he did— ringing customers up while simultaneously throwing coffee bases and syrups in a blender, topping each corresponding one with whipped cream on various orders before sliding it over to the pick up counter, all without even breaking a sweat through the times that you’ve shamefully watched him work from your little table before or after classes.
the first time you met him, you thought he was just having a bad day… and that he also hated you.
you had politely told him your order while at the same time ogling his handsome face— a small and simple sweet vanilla cold brew drink with a little blueberry scone on the side— when toge didn’t even spare you a glance and just tapped in your order on the screen, turning the tablet over to showcase the total before moving to the back to get started on your drink, not a single word leaving his scarf covered mouth as you silently paid and got a table.
it’s not like you were expecting anything out of it, but you hoped you would at least catch the color of his eyes before you had to leave.
and it went on like that for a total of four days— you saying the exact same order but just switching up the little pastry depending on your mood (it only consisting of your usual three— blueberry scone, cake pop, and cheese danish), toge’s eyes never leaving the register or drinks he made as you waited, and him sliding over your order in record time as he got started on attending the next customer.
on the fifth day, toge finally looked up.
the way he took your order didn’t change, but when it came to placing it over the pick up counter where you stood, your eyes widened when you noticed he was already looking at you, a grin on his face as he personally handed you your drink instead of sliding it over.
his eyes were purple.
and you just about fucking screamed, your days of hopelessly coming in to try and ridiculously take longer peeks at his face whenever you could finally paying off in that moment— and not expecting whatsoever to see the sides of his mouth marked with tattooed snake eyes either.
that day was also the day you noticed toge knew sign language.
most of the time toge took orders quickly without a word and punched in requests, but from time to time when a customer had a question about a menu item or what the passcode to the bathroom was, he always had a little whiteboard next to him with a black marker to scribble out what he needed to say— regulars already knowing how he communicated and not batting a single strange eye.
but on that day, a new customer came in that you didn’t recognize to be a regular, signing to one of the confused employees at the cash register until the employee turned around and tapped toge on the shoulder, pointing and saying words you couldn’t really hear before he quickly nodded and put down the blender he was holding, going over to sign.
you were mesmerized by it, the way his hands and fingers came together and away from each other to form different words and sentences completely unknown to those who didn’t understand the language, something that was beautiful to you and made you want to actually learn so you could potentially have the liberty to talk to him some time in the future if you could.
the next time you came into the shop early in the morning, toge was at the register. and upon seeing you walk in, he smoothly looked down and started typing away already on the screen, seemingly not listening and leaving you standing there confused.
“um—” you stammered. “can i…”
you trailed off as you watched him pick up his whiteboard and uncap the marker, scribbling.
‘i remembered your order.’
you froze, your heart doing enormous leaps considering this was the first time toge actually spoke to you apart from getting your order down and smiling at you.
“oh! really?” you laughed nervously. “…do i come in here too often then?”
he gave you a friendly grin and shook his head, erasing what he had before writing again.
‘do you want a blueberry scone, cake pop, or cheese danish?’
your eyes bulged. “you know that too?!”
he laughed, the sound making your hands clammy as you giggled along with him shyly.
“i’ll do a cake pop today!” you smiled. “i’m running a little late and that’s— easy to eat.. you know—”
he gave you a thumbs up and nodded, signaling with his head for you to wait by the pick up counter as he scribbled another few words, turning the whiteboard around.
‘i’ll see you tomorrow :)’
your cheeks flushed pink.
“y—yeah!” you spoke gingerly. “i’ll see you toge.”
the next few times after that toge would absolutely beam whenever you came into the shop, having already scribbled down your three choices of your usual pastries before having it ready for you at the pick up counter once you chose, even every now and then asking you a simple thing or two about your classes and major from the register as you sat by your table, him propping his little whiteboard up for you to see.
and ever since you saw that toge knew sign language, you wanted to know too, your desire to communicate with him more efficiently a silly priority on your mind as you signed up for entry level sign language courses at your college, trying to learn as much as you possibly could so it’d be easier for him not always having to step back and write.
“wait wait!” you put your hands out one slow morning upon arriving at the shop, toge stopping mid tap on the screen just as he was about to input your order, eyeing you.
your fingers shook a little as you slowly signed your order and choice of pastry for the day, trying to remember and grasp what you practiced repeatedly the night before, hoping your efforts would successfully come across and that you didn’t look like a fucking idiot.
but his focused eyes followed your movements, carefully watching you sign with pinched brows until you eventually finished— a slow pearly white smile spreading across is face as his gaze flickered to yours before writing on his whiteboard, turning it.
‘you know sign language?’
“barely!” you sputtered. “i um.. i started taking classes a couple of months ago but i’m not very good… did you— get it though? what i said?”
he quickly nodded.
‘it was a little choppy but good! good job y/n :)’
you breathed out a sigh of relief, a hand over your hammering chest as you swallowed.
“oh thank god.” you breathed. “i was worried i looked stupid or was accidentally telling you something weird.”
he laughed and waved you off, a slight tint to his cheeks as he wrote.
‘how’s learning it overall?’
“hard as fuck.” you mumbled, but peering up at him with a smile. “i’m trying though! i really love the language and i love learning it… it’s just hard because my professor kind of sucks and teaches it too fast.”
he hummed, moving around in the back while preparing your order before coming around through the little swinging door and over to your usual table, you standing dumbfounded at the register still as he stood there with your pastry and his whiteboard.
toge pointed to your seat.
“oh!” you gasped, walking over and taking a seat, smiling gratefully once he placed your coffee and cheese danish down for you, but stiffening once he scooched the chair out across from you and sat, your cheeks ablaze again.
“you wanna—” you looked at him with furrowed brows. “you wanna sit with me?”
he laughed a little and nodded.
“but the…” you pointed to the cash register.
he uncapped his marker and wrote, turning the board over.
‘it’s a slow day. if someone comes in i’ll just go.’
“oh— okay!” you breathed out nervously, wringing your fingers together as you kept them on your lap.
your thoughts were speeding across every corner of your mind, not knowing exactly why toge chose to sit with you right now but hanging on to the moment anyways, you anxiously trying to come up with things to say to get to know him a little better.
“i like your um..” you pointed to the corners of your mouth. “—your tattoos. did they hurt?”
he smiled and wrote.
‘thanks :) and not really, my throat hurts more than the tattooing itself hehe.’
your eyes snapped up to his.
“your throat?” you asked softly. “is it okay?”
‘oh it’s fine!’ he wrote. ‘well no but it just hurts a lot when i talk so i just don’t.’
you hummed in understanding, the missing puzzle as to why exactly toge never spoke out loud to anyone in the first place finally clicking into place.
“i’m sorry toge…” you expressed sweetly. “have you tried— well i assume you have but… like getting it checked out? or maybe honey with lemon or—”
he turned his board around.
‘yeah :P nothing really works. L for me.’
you giggled, and he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth in a smile.
‘can you show me what else you know in sign language?’
“ohhh this is it.” you swallowed. “you’re about to laugh in my face and think i’m stupid.”
he laughed and gave you a look.
‘you’re silly. just show me.’
you huffed before timidly showing him very basic simple phrases that you managed to pick up from class out of the millions that were shown— short choppy kiddy words that didn’t even serve to get by in a quick conversation, but enough for simple one worded responses.
“oh! and i like this one the most!—” you put the bases of your palms together and rubbed a little.
toge let out a squeaky cute laugh as he watched you before quickly picking up his marker and writing.
‘cheese? your favorite thing to sign is cheese?’
“yeah!—” you giggled shyly. “it’s funnn! and i never fuck it up.”
he nodded with a gleam in his eye.
‘i could teach you sign language if you want.’
you froze, eyes wide as you looked at him.
“seriously?” you quickly leaned forward. “are— are you sure? you definitely don’t have to at all toge… i don’t want to burden you or anything.”
his eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head.
‘not burden at all.’ he wrote. ‘i’m a lazy fart i don’t do much besides this so it’s fine.’
you giggled and nodded excitedly, a hopeful shine in your eyes as you looked at him.
“o—okay!” you agreed. “i’d like that a lot… thank you toge!”
he was so nice.
and just as he was about to write something else, a customer came through the doors and up to the cash register, toge quickly scribbling something down before standing and showing you, walking backwards.
‘i’ll talk to you later little mouse :)’
you laughed loudly, a hand flying over your mouth as you did.
that nickname stuck.
“bye toge!” you responded kindly, gathering your things before heading out for the day with your coffee and pastry.
unfortunately for you, midterm season came and knocked the absolute shit out of you for a week, you unable to go back to the coffee shop to see toge until it was all fucking over, your heart heavy over the fact that you literally failed your sign language test, but giddy and excited nonetheless to finally see him after a while and go back to your usual happy routine.
and as for toge, he was left utterly confused.
was he too forward? did you think it was weird when he called you little mouse? did you think he was weird?
was it something he did? why had you stopped coming into the shop after going in continuously for like weeks at this point?
and he had just gotten the courage to look you in the eye too.
toge literally had your order ready every single day with your three pastries warmed up and toasted if need be, your sweet vanilla cold brew drink ready to go the moment you walked through those doors at any given point and time… but you just didn’t come. him leaning on the register counter bored out of his mind and dejected over the disappearance of the pretty nice girl that always came in and talked to him at his work, ending up always drinking the coffee he made for you silently and munching on the three pastries you chose between when it was time to close.
but when you finally came in, early in the morning like you always did and looking forward to seeing him again— toge was hunched over the counter with his chin propped up on his hand like he had been for the past week, you unknowing of that as you walked over with a smile.
“hi toge!”
he shot up, eyes wide with his palms flat on the counter.
“y/n!—”
he spoke.
toge spoke and he immediately cowered over in a fit of painful sounding coughs that racked through his body, his mouth shoved into his elbow as he quickly pushed through the doors and walked to the back, leaving you there wide eyed and completely fucking shocked.
he said your name.
“toge..?” you called softly, timidly as you leaned over the counter to try and catch a look at him from inside the employee break room, still hearing faint coughing. “hey— are you okay?”
he returned to the floor chugging back a bottle of cough syrup like nothing before tossing it into the nearest bin and swallowing, snatching his marker to write on the mini whiteboard, holding it up.
‘where the fuck have you been?’
you looked at him with an apologetic little face, your eyes soft.
“i’m sorryyy!” you whined. “i’m so sorry it was midterm week for me and i was grinding so hard and i just didn’t have time to come in… it was torture.”
you guiltily bit your lip. “…are you mad at me?”
he shook his head slowly, his shoulders visibly relaxing at the confirmation that it wasn’t anything he did that could’ve potentially put you off.
‘not at all mouse :P.’ he wrote before reaching to the side and sliding over your already made coffee and three pastries, lined up.
and surprise crossed your face.
“you had it ready?” you gasped. “toge! thank you!”
you quickly opened your book bag and he placed a hand over your arm, stopping you and shaking his head ‘no.’
“no?” you asked softly. “what do you mean? i’m just gonna pay.”
toge only shook his head again with a small smile, nudging his head over for you to sit at your usual table.
your shoulders slumped. “now what would you do if i just burst out crying right now.”
he laughed loudly and let go of your arm to write, leaving a burning fuzzy feeling on your skin in return.
‘cry? why?’
“because you’re so nice!” you whined. “please let me pay. i already feel bad not coming in for a week… especially after you offered to teach me sign language.”
‘go sit down mouse. i’ll sit with you in a little bit.’
you begrudgingly stood in place before nodding and taking your drink with your bag of pastries, walking over to the side and plopping down on a seat.
toge had a bit of a rush in and couldn’t join you for nearly an hour, him constantly shooting you apologetic looks and you frantically waving him off and reassuring him that it was okay, you astronomically thankful that you didn’t have class that day until later in the evening.
but when the rush was eventually over, toge dropped down on the seat across from yours with a big tired sigh and his whiteboard, head down.
you gently poked his arm then, and he looked up.
“is your throat okay?” you asked, face serious. “and you?”
he nodded, giving you a warm smile before grabbing his marker.
‘it happens sometimes, i just slipped up. L for me again.’
you smiled sadly and retracted your hand from across the table to settle back over your lap.
“i like your voice… if that makes you feel any better.” you spoke shyly, looking down at your fingers.
toge bit the inside of his cheek and smiled cheekily.
‘thanks mouse… but i know something that’ll make me feel even better hehe.’
“what?” you asked curiously.
he wrote.
‘give me your number before you disappear on me again you little rat.’
“hey!” you whined. “i thought i was a mouse..”
he chuckled cutely and nudged your foot gently from underneath the table, erasing and writing again.
‘i’m just kidding. we need to set up those sign language lessons soon though :D.’
and at the reminder of that you groaned, body slumping over the table as toge eyed you confusedly.
“you’re gonna laugh. or be mad. or disappointed. or all three..” you mumbled, voice slightly muffled.
he poked your head repeatedly and you lifted it, chin resting lazily on the table as he looked at you expectantly.
“i failed my sign language midterm.”
toge snorted but quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, and you whined again before shoving your face back down as he quickly shook you by the shoulders, trying to get you to look up again.
“no no no i’m a disgrace i’m a failure i studied so fucking hard for nothing it’s over i’m not cut out—”
he kept shaking and delicately pinching you before you finally looked up again.
“what.” you mumbled, eyes dragging to his propped up whiteboard.
‘i’m sorry i laughed… but don’t worry you’ll pass the next one. you’ll be okay.’
“and how do you know.” you grumbled.
‘because now you have delicious me, duh :P’
you giggled softly and lifted yourself from the table, leaning back against your chair.
he gave you a warm knowing smile before writing again.
‘cheer up mouse… i promise i’ll help you.’
a slow cutesy grin spread across your face, one that made him swallow hard as you looked at him through your lashes.
“thank you toge… do you— do you work tomorrow?”
his gaze flickered up in thought before he shook his head, eyes landing back on yours.
“maybe we could start… tomorrow? if you’re free? and if— if it’s okay of course!” you stammered nervously, gnawing at your bottom lip as you waited for his response.
his cheeks fluttered pink a little before quickly nodding.
“okay!” you breathed excitedly. “great! we could do it here? or—”
he frantically shook his head no and uncapped his marker.
‘my dickhead manager will pull me to work if i’m here on my day off.’
you laughed and nodded. “okay not here then.. where? we can try my place but i already know my parents are gonna be annoying about bringing a guy over so..”
he smiled and looked down to write.
‘we can do my apartment mouse. i live alone.’
your eyes widened. “you have your own place? really?”
he slowly nodded.
“that’s so cool toge! oh my goodness i can’t wait to see it now!”
you bounced enthusiastically in your seat and he chuckled, perplexed as to why you would ever be excited to see something like that, but choosing not to question it.
‘it’s kind of small, and i mainly just sleep and be lazy if i’m not working or streaming.’
you tilted your head. “streaming..?”
he pursed his lips and looked down again to scribble, an embarrassed undertone to his face before propping the whiteboard up.
‘i play games and stream to earn extra money on the side like a little loser.’
you giggled, your eyebrows slightly furrowing before relaxing. “why would that make you a little loser toge? you’re making money while doing something you like… i think that’s really fun!”
an eager attractive grin ran across his face before quickly writing again.
‘i’m glad you think so :) but give me your number neow.’
“oh that’s right!” you beamed, taking his offered whiteboard and marker before quickly writing down your number with a heart in the corner, passing it back.
“just text me whenever and we can set a time for tomorrow okay?”
he nodded, his eyes trained to the heart you drew.
for the rest of his shift, toge spent it bouncing around between your table and back to the cash register to take orders and make drinks, seemingly finishing each beverage ten times fucking faster than usual just so he could come over and talk to you before you had to leave again for your evening class.
but you didn’t want to leave whatsoever, and you even juggled the possibility of skipping class to stay longer with toge, but the next class happened to be sign language, and you didn’t want to fail another fucking midterm by not showing up and missing material.
you threw your trash away before grabbing your book bag and slinging it over your shoulder once it was time, you slowly and timidly trying to get toge’s attention as you walked to the exit.
your shy raised hand caught his eye in between him blending and pouring drinks, toge quickly putting everything down and reaching for the whiteboard from the register, erasing whatever he had from a previous customer to write and flipping it over with a silly smile.
‘bye mouse!’ it read. ‘i’ll see you tomorrow! :P.’
and that was nearly two and a half years ago, the heart you drew in the corner of his whiteboard still there to this day as he answered questions, responded, or scribbled directions in any given situation with it no matter if it was in or outside of work— always wanting to have a little part of you with him wherever he went.
toge also kept his promise and taught you sign language, you trying so so fucking hard every waking day you spent with him at his cute little studio apartment— learning phrases and properly constructing it into sentences that actually made sense as you both sat sprawled on the floor for hours on end, him patient and kind as he watched you shakily sign and accept his gentle corrections with an open mind.
but although your sentences were continuously choppy and a little off at that point in time, they were definitely in way better condition than when you tried to study and learn it on your own… and toge was unsurprisingly a really good teacher— ten times more helpful than your literal freaking licensed professor whom you had started with, as toge would actually take the time to write and explain each concept in the best way he possibly could for you to understand.
now you were comfortable enough with it to respond in very simple sentences and phrases, but stronger at understanding it whenever toge signed to you, a plus when he clumsily forgot his whiteboard somewhere or when he just didn’t want to use it.
and ever since that first day you went over to his place to learn and study, you literally never went a day without going back again, your cute routine with him being going to his apartment every second of the day to hang out with him or do the things that you needed to do— some that could easily be done in your own space and home and room, but you refusing to for the sole purpose of wanting to be with toge all of the time, him feeling the exact same way and going as far as to giving you a copy of the key to his apartment.
(toge :D): MOUSE
(toge :D): MOUSE
your phone buzzed repeatedly just as you were walking up the steps to toge’s floor, you nearly dropping it over the uncontrollable buzz.
(toge :D): LITTLE MOUSE
(you): YES <3
(toge :D): ouuu a heart?? i didn’t know we were married :P
you let out a giggle and quickly typed a response, your face hot.
(you): mmm i don’t know my ring finger is quite literally bare right now :/ maybe next time!
(toge :D): YOOOOO
(toge :D): it’s because it’s gonna be under your pillow
(toge :D): like from the tooth fairy
(toge :D): a big shiny cock
(toge :D): I MEAN ROCK
(toge :D): ROCK I MEANT ROCK SORRY
you burst out laughing as you readjusted your book bag on your shoulder and turned the corner, nearing his apartment number.
(toge :D): …please still come over
(toge :D): oh wait that’s why i texted you! :P
(toge :D:) WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU
(toge :D): YOU’RE LATE MOUSE
(you): LMFAAOOO
(you): IM COMMINGGGG i’m literally down the hall sir
(you): but now that you yelled at me HMMMM i don’t feel like going today <//3
(toge :D): NO
(toge :D): i’m sorry i’m on my knees
(toge :D): i’m begging
(toge :D): i even brought you a blueberry scone from work
(toge :D): and i’ll buy you whatever you want
(toge :D): FUCK COME OVER NOOOWWWWW
(you): SAY PLEASE AND ADDRESS ME CORRECTLY
(toge :D): PLEEEAASSEEE MOUUSEE
you bit your lip in attempts at suppressing your giddy smile, it not really fucking working as you arrived at his door, pulling your keys out from your bag and shuffling through them to find his— one that had a tiny onigiri design on it.
(you): coming!! <33
(toge :D): so you’re saying we’re married again :P
the door clicked open upon you twisting the key in, stepping inside before closing it behind you while juggling your textbooks and locking it, toge seated on his little gaming chair when he swiveled around and waved at you with a big smile, standing.
“toge!” you gasped exhaustedly, stepping over to him. “you have got to help me please my god—”
he grabbed the textbooks from your arms and walked over to his desk, setting them down before turning back around and giving you a curious look.
‘what’s wrong?’ he signed.
“everything! everything is wrong sign language two is not for the weak oh my goodness gracious—”
you flopped down with your back flat on his bed, eyes shut in agony as he watched you amusedly.
“my professor’s teaching us grammar now and it just gets harder! i don’t know where to properly put anything or— or sign anything.”
he giggled softly and you peeked an eye open, looking at him.
‘i’ll help you mouse.’ he signed, stretching a hand out and you taking it, letting him pull you up to sit as you lazily did so.
“but i ask you too much.” you pouted. “and i feel bad every time i do, especially when you’re playing.”
he snorted, going over to his little dining table and pulling out a chair, lifting it over to his desk gaming set up area and placing it down before ushering you over with his hand.
“nuh uh.” you shook your head.
toge gave you a half lidded look and sat on the dining chair, him always saving his big comfy gaming chair for you whenever you sat with him at his desk since the first time you came over— his eyes expectant.
you deeply sighed and stood, trudging over to his gaming chair before plopping yourself down.
“you don’t have to toge… it’s okay.” you spoke gently. “you’ve been teaching me for like— two years already. my new year’s resolution was to stop bothering you about it and let you live.”
he slid his little whiteboard over and erased what he previously had, uncapping his marker and writing.
he showed you.
‘i’ll always help you and you know that :( and it doesn’t bother me you rat, i do it because i want to.’
or because he’s in love with you. either or.
you giggled and lifted your hand, your index finger erasing over the word ‘rat.’ “—it’s mouusee toge. it’s like you get off on abusing and hurting your bestest mestest friend.”
he laughed boyishly and put down his whiteboard, sliding over one of your textbooks from across the table to him and flipping through several pages, reading to try and see exactly where you were at by the sticky notes you left behind in the margins.
“don’t you have to stream today though?” you asked timidly. “like right now?”
he simply shrugged, turning a page as he reached over to write again on his board.
‘i can stream later tonight—’
he quickly turned it around again to add something just as you had finished reading, him flipping it back over.
‘—with you asleep on my bed. because you’re sleeping over. and that’s FINAL.’
you laughed loudly while leaning forward, your cheeks brewing up a little flush at the request even though you’ve slept over at his place plenty of times before— the thought of him actively wanting you to making your heart bounce around erratically in your chest.
“fuck i don’t know…” you feigned concern. “i’m not sure if i can toge i’m sorry.”
he slumped, eyes so sad that it made you almost sick to your stomach as you struggled to commit to the small bit.
‘why not?’ he signed.
“because i’m missing something.” you pouted.
‘missing?’ he signed again. ‘missing what?’
you snickered.
“my ring!” you extended your hand to him and wiggled your little fingers, you poking the tip of your tongue out to the side cutely. “the one you promised me over text.”
toge breathed out a laugh and nearly dropped dead at your cute expression, him mimicking you and sticking his tattooed tongue out before picking up his whiteboard from his lap to write.
‘i told you the tooth fairy has it :D you have to be patient little mouse.’
you giggled and put your arm down, giving him a stern silly look.
“kayyy thennn!” you dragged, sitting up in your chair and looking over your textbook. “i’ll be expecting my big shiny rock under my pillow in the morning sir.”
he saluted you and you grinned, the rest of the time being spent with toge trying to teach you as best as he could with you hopelessly following along, feeling like the dumbest bitch alive and embarrassed whenever you got something wrong.
but toge never minded, not one single bit— even when you made the same grammar mistake literally three times in a row and him correcting you each freaking time the same exact way, no sign of annoyance or frustration on his face as he worked with you.
and that’s one of the biggest reasons as to why you loved toge so much. since the moment you met him all he wanted to do was just help you, regardless of the fact if you were a stranger or not as he generously always put the things he needed to do aside for you— making sure you were always okay and getting the things you needed no matter how many times you told him he didn’t need to worry, you feeling special and appreciated whenever you were with him no matter what.
you hoped to god he felt the same… and you hoped you weren’t being straight delusional when you noticed the way he looked at you a little longer than he should have at times, or when you read too much into the casual little pecks on your head from him, or when you had told him how much you loved just studying on the floor beside him while he streamed but made a joke that sometimes you couldn’t see because it was so dark in his apartment, toge literally the next day buying you a little flower lily lamp to set and prop up right next to you so you could comfortably study, him laughing and wiping your tears when you ridiculously cried over his consideration.
so did that mean he loved you too?
“toge…” you murmured in the midst of him fixing a signage error of the word ‘before’ with his fingers.
he pointed to your hands so you could take note of the alteration he made, waiting for you to carry on then.
you smiled softly in gratitude before continuing.
“have you ever—” you pursed your lips. “have you ever um… well— actually nevermind—”
he blinked before slowly lifting his hands.
‘have i ever what?’ toge signed, and you quickly shook your head.
“nevermind! it’s okay.”
he gently nudged your foot with his, beckoning you to tell him as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
fuck.
okay if he kisses your head right now then you’ll tell him.
“i forgot toge.” you lied. “that’s why i said nevermind… oopsie!”
he laughed and leaned forward, pecking your forehead before reaching a hand up to ruffle up your hair.
fuck!
no you take it back you can’t do it you can’t—
‘silly.’ he signed, turning his attention back to your textbook and flipping a page.
he wondered what it was, but figured it would come back to you eventually and you’d tell him soon after.
by the end of the day, it was like there was an actual fucking light at the end of the tunnel for you and your sign language two class— you going from being over a thousand percent sure that you were about to pathetically fail the entire course, to having a shiny little sliver of hope because of toge’s ability to get anything through your big head and make you understand, feeling eternally grateful for him in many ways than one.
and you wanted him, so fucking bad, ever since you saw him at the coffee shop, that you thought in that moment while toge set up his bed for you to sleep in while you sat on his desk chair, dressed in his big white t-shirt and pajama pants, that if you just— maayybee tested the waters and crossed the line a little bit without it being too drastic, that you’d get your answer.
but did you want to know? what if he didn’t love you back? what the fuck were you supposed to do then?
cry and wither away, that’s what. you don’t think you’ve ever loved someone as much as you loved toge.
you hear the familiar squeaks of his black marker streaking against his little whiteboard, the sound pulling you from your thoughts and you looked up.
‘you’re so spacey today pretty. are you still worried about your class? :(‘
pretty.
“oh!” you stood. “no toge i feel a lot better about it actually because of you… thank you.”
he grinned, nodding before walking and leaning over his pc to set up his streaming session, mouse clicking away.
“toge—”
he looked over at you with his gorgeous purple eyes and you froze, cheeks heating up as your wobbly lips struggled to come together and fucking speak.
“nevermind nevermind—”
his eyes narrowed, snatching his whiteboard and quickly writing.
‘you did this earlier today too. tell me what’s wrong.’
“no.”
‘no?’ he signed. ‘tell me y/n.’
“no! not my name!” you dived dramatically on his comfy blanket filled bed and groaned. “you only call me by my name when you’re mad and i don’t like it.”
he sat next to you on the edge of the bed and pulled on your shoulder slightly, you fully turning around on your back and looking at him anxiously.
toge wished he could continuously beg you and ask you what was wrong so you’d just tell him— him at times sick of constantly having to pause and make you wait so he could get his point across, a painful fact that never left his mind and made him feel like the biggest burden in your life.
that’s why he never wanted to cross that line you both always seemed to lean over without meaning to. the line that’s kept you both on this limbo of half best friends and half more as he sometimes hugged you a lot longer or snuck in a couple of self indulgent cheek and hand kisses to your skin… but that’s as far as he’d really let himself get. toge didn’t want to permanently have you drag him along in your life no matter how much he wanted to be in it as something way more.
you deserved noise, you deserved loud love, you deserved someone who could actually speak to you— things he mourned over that he could never give you.
and he knew this. he’s known from the moment you walked into the coffee shop the very first time even though you swore up and down that he noticed you later, you unaware that he actually saw you right off the fucking bat on the first day and couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye— knowing you were going to be the biggest heartbreak of his life and ruin him if he so managed as to let you in when you kept coming back.
but toge was selfish, and he couldn’t help himself.
so he tried to compromise.
there’s nothing wrong with being just friends… right? a casual conversation between two people while he was at work? to then bid goodbye and say hello to every now and then?
except a quick conversation with you turned into ones that lasted almost his entire shift sometimes, and then casual meet ups turned into sleepovers at his apartment when he offered to teach you sign language, and then little hugs of farewell and hello’s turned into him kissing you practically fucking everywhere that wasn’t your mouth with the tightest embraces, him completely going against what he swore he wasn’t going to do and damning himself for life.
and even more so when you had joked about wanting a ring that one day, him actually going out the next day and buying you matching ones even though he didn’t even know if he was strong enough to actually give yours to you.
but toge was still freaking selfish.
because as you looked at him now, your gorgeous face anxious and thought-filled about things he wished you would tell him without worry, the outline and shape of your plush soft lips burning his pupils in such a way that it felt like a privilege, your body in his clothes—
made him want to speak the three worded phrase he was only allowed to say in his sleepy dreams if he was lucky.
“what toge?” you spoke softly, reaching a hand up to delicately card through the front pieces of his pale blonde hair, soft and silky as the outline of his tattooed snake eyes made you a little fuzzy.
he slowly shook his head, a far off look in his eye as he leaned over you, his face close and strained that your eyebrows pinched a little at his expression.
your hand proceeded to gently smooth down from his hair to the side of his cheek, cupping it and caressing over it with your thumb so lovingly that he nearly broke his oath.
if you said that you loved him… he wondered if he would crack. if you confessed and told him that you felt the same way, he juggled the possibility of ruining his own life by giving in and letting you take on the burden of his existence just to have you like he’s always wanted—
“i love you.” you told him.
toge’s big wide afraid eyes stared back at you as you smiled sheepishly, his breath caught in his throat.
“i—” you hesitated, playing with the hem of his shirt. “i really love you. like in the way where i want you to like— kiss me and stuff in your free time…”
he huffed a shocked breath, his face still just alarmed and strained and you started to believe that maybe you actually were delusional and misinterpreted things, his lack of anything making you second guess.
“i’m sorry.” you blurted. “i’m sorry i thought—”
and toge was still selfish as he let his lips fall down and crash against yours, moving so feverishly and hungrily that you couldn’t keep up as he dug his arms underneath you and around before pulling you up flush against his body, wanting you as close to him as humanely fucking possible incase he never got to do this again with you, the possibility horrifyingly still there.
“does this mean—” you spoke in between kisses, breathless. “does this mean you love me too—”
toge broke apart momentarily and quickly nodded, eyes ditzy and clouded as he panted against your lips, drunkenly lowering his head and linking his wet lips with yours again as he sloppily kissed you, laying you back down while you wrung your arms around his neck, you giddy and absolutely fucking enamored with him and that he was finally yours.
except he technically wasn’t… yet…
even when three full weeks had passed.
you still visited toge at work in the coffee shop in the mornings or the afternoon like you always did, ordering the same thing and going in to chat as he wrote his responses on his whiteboard— except now whenever rush hour would conclude, toge would greedily sneak in kisses with you at your table or hold the back of your hand to his cheek as you talked about your classes and your plans for the weekend, his conflicted mind putting his oath on the back burner for now as he tried to relish in the love he’s been wanting for so long.
and you were a little confused as to why toge hadn’t taken the initiative that night and asked you to be his girlfriend, but you didn’t complain, you too caught up in the moment when he would make out with you at his apartment in between study or streaming breaks with his hands literally all over you like a man starved, groping and squeezing at anything he could but never going over that last jump to do something intimate with you, your lovesick mind too in it to care at the moment.
that was the next compromise he made.
if you both just— just stayed this way. no official title no matter how much it pained him just so that he could continue doing these lovely lovely things with you whenever you both wanted, his mind thinking that since you both weren’t technically together that he wasn’t burdening you for life just yet, wanting to keep it this way for as long as he possibly could because toge didn’t fucking know what he was going to do when the time came for making it official.
well yes— he did know. but what he wanted to do and what he should do were two completely different things.
“togeee!” you bounded into the shop one morning, thankful that it was empty as you quickly leaned over the counter and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek, him smiling wide with a flush to his face in response.
‘hi mouse :) <3’ he wrote on his whiteboard. ‘have you had something to eat yet?’
“i’m good im good! wait i haven’t ate but im good!” you spoke excitedly. “i come with newwsss. really fun news!”
he hummed and nodded, motioning for you to continue as he moved around in the back to get and warm up a breakfast sandwich for you.
“one of my friends from sign language told me she’s throwing a party at her sorority house and invited meee!” you beamed, hearing a little oven ping and then following him to your usual table so the both of you could sit.
toge gently slid your sandwich over upon scooting his chair up, warm and yummy as it sat pretty on a little pastel green plate and him signing ‘eat please’ as you grinned.
“and i know you told me once that you’ve never been to a college party, so i was wondering if you wanted to maybe.. come with me?”
he smiled softly.
‘when?’ toge signed.
“tomorrow night!” you responded, taking a bite out of your breakfast sandwich.
he nodded, thinking a little in his head before sliding his whiteboard over to write.
‘of course ill go mouse but it might be better without me.’
you faltered, swallowing. “without you? why?”
he erased and wrote again.
‘because i can’t talk. your friends might think it’s a little odd.’
“no they won’t.” you countered. “and that’s totally okay, toge. just bring your whiteboard.”
he snorted, shaking his head.
‘i’m not bringing my whiteboard silly that’s even worse.’
“but you’ll be with me.” you reasoned. “and i don’t really talk to anyone at school either besides her so it’s literally just you and i hanging out.”
you wiggled your brows. “and drinkinggg ehh?”
he laughed and eventually nodded, reaching across the table and taking your hands in his as he agreed to go, caressing his fingers over your wrists.
the familiar scent of coffee beans and vanilla— a scent you’ve come to know for almost three years now wafted and swirled around through your nose comfortingly, it permanently reminding you of toge and the time that you’ve spent with him.
he let go of your wrists to write.
‘how was sign language yesterday? are you still good?’
you swallowed the bite you were chewing on and held back a grimace.
“oh i’m doing horrendously again… but it’s all good! ignorance is bliss and i’m choosing hardcore ignorance right now.”
toge’s jaw dropped before he laughed in disbelief and picked up his marker.
‘you’re sleeping over at my place again so i can help you no exceptions sorry about it :p’
you giggled and nodded— saluting him, a mannerism you picked up on from him as he smiled brightly.
“but i do know this!” you exclaimed excitedly as you pressed the bases of your palms together and rubbed, signing the word ‘cheese’— your favorite.
toge laughed cutely and signed the same word back, unable to do much else as the doors chimed to the shop then and a group of students came in, toge’s chair scraping against the floor as he stood before giving you a quick kiss and a ruffle to your hair, his whiteboard in hand as he started making his way to the back.
‘i love you.’ he signed and you bit your bottom lip in a smile, your heart swelling obnoxiously as you watched him shuffle on and tap a few things into the register, nodding along to the groups order as you soon after gathered your things for your afternoon class.
and that night after toge taught you a little more sign language and helped you work on the things you were struggling with, you fell asleep rather earlier than usual on his bed— him reaching for one of his fluffy blankets and draping it over your sleeping gorgeous self and staring, slowly leaning down and pressing the softest kiss ever to your little warm cheek— his chest twisting and contorting with the desire to just fucking give in and stop his stupid ridiculous suffering, to just be selfish one last time and ask you to be his.
and maybe he could.
maybe toge could allow himself this one tiny thing— the most important pretty thing of all, he felt.
just once.
“toge?” you murmured sleepily, eyes pinching a little as you lazily reached out for him.
but what if you grew tired of him? of the silence?
he delicately took your outstretched hand and hummed in question.
“come sleep.” you mumbled. “with me.”
his eyes softened, the corners of his mouth curving as he carefully tapped his index finger against your cheek repeatedly, you straining your eyes open.
‘look under your pillow.’ he signed.
your groggy eyes narrowed in confusion, barely making out what he was signing in the dark but catching key words.
“under my pillow?”
he nodded, pointing.
you breathed in and propped yourself up on your elbow, lifting the pillow you were laying on and suddenly snapping the fuck awake.
a ring.
you shot up, sitting up fully as you looked at him.
he stood and reached over for his whiteboard and marker, uncapping it and writing for a moment before flipping it around and showing you.
‘i got us matching bestest mestest friends but also in love at the same time rings :]’
you picked it up, a dainty thin silver banned ring with a milky white heart in the middle, iridescent as it glowed against the moonlight streaming through his open window.
“toge—” you breathed out. “you actually… you actually got me a ring?”
he wrote, a sly little grin on his face.
‘the tooth fairy did mouse.’
you giggled then, a vibrant pink glow to your cheeks and still a little shocked as he took the jewelry piece from you and gently grabbed your hand, sliding it over your ring finger smoothly, his ring finger already having his shiny silver band on.
he put your hand down and grabbed his whiteboard again.
‘that ring is me promising to help you and love you and kiss you until i die.’ he wrote. ‘okay?’
you quickly nodded, absolutely cheesed as you threw your arms around his neck and pulled toge in— feeling so so happy and fresh and loved, like everything was officially falling into place after nearly three years of semi crossing lines and stolen glances and unanswered questions about what exactly you both were for the longest.
your pretty pretty face had toge in a daze as you looked at him like he carried the world on his shoulders, his mouth slowly coming closer and closer to yours before softly pressing against them— slow and tender as you tugged him down to you by his shirt until he climbed in and was in between your thighs.
each kiss exchange was sensual and a mouthful as you helped toge tug his shirt off over his head, your palms running over his bare skinned chest and back as he deepened his kisses, your hands quickly pulling your shirt off and his eyes bulging at the sight of your puffy tits snug and pretty in your bra.
you were desperate for him and didn’t even have to think twice about something like this as you reached and tugged a little at his jeans, signaling him to take them the fuck off—
‘baby.’ he signed shakily, not even sure why he was asking since he doesn’t think at this point he could stop, but needing to check in with you first. ‘are you sure?’
“fuck yeah i’m sure.” you whispered quickly and unzipped his pants, toge smiling big as he kicked his pants and everything else off, carefully helping you do the same until you were bare and vulnerable in front of him.
toge moved to place a hand on your thigh and you squeaked, suddenly bashful as you shyly covered your arms over your chest and squeezed your thighs together.
he leaned down and placed gentle soft kisses on your cheeks, patting a comforting hand over your head.
‘it’s okay mouse. you’re okay.’ he signed.
you nodded, comfort washing over you as you slowly let your thighs spread and your arms reveal you, his spit catching in his throat at the sight of your gorgeous fucking body beneath him, his dick embarrassingly already leaking a little bit of cum as you watched him pump it a few times.
‘you’re beautiful.’ he signed, and you blushed.
he drooled some spit over his fingers and slid it gently in between your folds, your bottom lip coming in between your teeth as you tried to hold back your moans, his digits prepping you while slipping through your hole deeming it fucking hard as he was completely lost in it, unaware of the way he was riling you up and already building up that familiar sensation in the pit of your tummy.
“t—toge—” your pussy clenched at the way he was fucking you with his fingers, keeping your thighs apart with his other arm as he was completely drowned in the gushy sticky sounds of your hole.
“you’re gonna make me cum and i—” you panted, cute whines slipping from your lips as he looked up at you. “—i wanna cum when you’re inside—”
his cock spasmed and a drop of cum drooped out at your yummy plea, his breathing trembling as he quickly nodded and squeezed your thigh endearingly, slowly slipping his fingers out and stuffing them into his mouth to suck your juices as he pumped his cock while lining it up with your hole.
toge sunk in his dick then, the both of you groaning at the way he filled you up so fucking nice and stretched you, your pussy literally grabbing his cock and sucking him inside easily as you gripped his shoulders tight.
“mmm!—” you whimpered, toge now slowly pumping his cock inside of you as he leaned over and propped himself up by his arms, hips tenderly and deliciously rolling in as he panted and softly whined in your ear.
you were so god damn tight, his throat literally closing at the lock you had around him as he fucked you slow and breathless, one of his hands coming down to grip your waist to try and keep himself grounded and from snapping his hips into yours brutally— him wanting to make love to you and not do that just yet.
toge ducked his head down and licked over a perky tit, your breath hitching and subconsciously spreading your legs wider as he closed his lips around your nipple— suckling and laying a flat tattooed tongue over it as you moaned.
“faster—” pant! “faster please baby—”
with a mouthful of your tit he snapped his hips up, you choking as he started going a lot quicker than you anticipated as your hand flew to your mouth to keep your moans in, your tits bouncing with every fuck.
“oh my god oh my god—”
toge suddenly pulled out and threw you over, tummy to the bed as he hauled your ass up and lined himself at your entrance again, wasting no time in pushing in and screwing you in the same pace he had before.
but this new position was an absolute delicacy as you drooled over his sheets at the way he rammed his cock, the recoil of your ass sending a shiver up his spine and roughly gripping your hips and ass in anyway he could, you screaming and whining into his pillow as a series of slaps to your ass cheeks from him echoed through his little studio.
toge was about to dump the biggest fucking load in you that it was embarrassing.
you reached a hand behind you and he quickly grabbed it, his thumb running over your skin soothingly as he pistoned roughly into your cunt, him groaning and whimpering over the squelching and leaking of your hole as he felt his dick harden— his cum on the brink of release.
“fuck fuck fuck—” you hiccuped into his pillow. “baby i’m gonna cum i’m gonna cum hah!—”
he gripped your hand harder and leaned down over you, rutting into your pussy as he heaved and pressed his lips up against your ear, choking out the word ‘cum’ so softly that it bypassed the confines of his situation, your eyes squeezing shut as the hardest fucking orgasm you had ever had in your life hit you like brick.
you felt toge’s hips snap up and still as his hot milky cum spilled through your walls with a grunt, gooey and slimy as it filled you up and left you squirming at the weight of it.
his breath fanned against your hair as he tried to calm it, his hand moving soothingly up and down your back as you weakly tried to gain back some consciousness, the both of you sweaty and spent with his softening dick sliding out slowly.
toge carefully nudged you back over and kissed you tenderly, his hands traveling from your back over to your tummy and smoothly caressing every part of you down to the sides of your thighs, eyes swelling in utter worship over you as he leaned back to look at you.
‘i love you baby.’ he signed, and you beamed.
and just as toge had finally decided to ask you to be his girlfriend then, to officially let go of the fears he had and let himself have you— there in your arms as you peppered sweet cute kisses all over his face and over his tattooed markings on the corners of his mouth, pulling him further in to rest and sleep?
toge had a horrendous day the following morning that threw it all away.
horrendous.
it started in the morning when he left your sleeping figure quietly with a kiss to your head for his shift at work that day, excited and in a never ending state of bliss from the night before as he drove to the shop.
except he had forgotten his whiteboard at home.
toge had realized when he was already fucking halfway into the drive, a full fledged twenty five minute one that he didn’t have time to go back and repeat as he pulled up to the parking lot— cursing himself for being such a dumbass and wondering how the fuck he was gonna answer specific questions from customers, especially since he was the only one really working today.
he figured he should be fine… right? usually the people that come in already know what to get and they just read it out to him.
but there’s always a few every single day without fail that ask questions toge needed his whiteboard for. and you didn’t have class that day— so the means of you coming down there were for nothing, at least not until the party later that night.
and he didn’t want to ask anything of you…
but he really needed it.
(toge :D): hi pretty mouseee i know you’re asleep i’m sorry but is there anyway you could come to the shop when you wake up and drop off my whiteboard please? i left it on the desk like a stupid fucking idiot EL OH EL
“inumaki.”
toge froze on his walk to open the shop and looked up from his phone, eyes blowing wide.
there his manager stood, who was also the owner of the coffee shop itself, a stern look on his face with crossed arms as they both stood in front of a shattered door and windows, shards of glass twinkling on the floor.
“did you lock up last night?”
toge nodded, eyebrows furrowed as he scanned the ground.
“everything?”
he went to nod again, but stopped.
he did… he did truly he did—
…oh.
he forgot to lock up and cash in the register.
toge quickly stepped over the glass and swung open the shattered door and over to the front counter, sure enough finding the register wide open and battered with not a single fucking penny left inside.
he groaned, his hands shooting up and digging the bases of his palms into his eyes as he leaned back, lips in a thin line at how utterly fucking stupid he was for forgetting to lock up the register and take in the money— the number one thing he was always supposed to do.
“what happened?” his manager asked, hands out. “have you been not locking it up?”
toge scrambled for his phone and pulled it from his back pocket, the thought of his job literally on the line because of this sending him for a fucking ride.
‘i always lock it up, honestly.’ he typed and showed his phone. ‘but i stupidly forgot last night and i can’t express enough to you how sorry i am.’
his manager sighed deeply and dropped his hands, looking over at the open register.
“you’ve consistently been one of my best.” he spoke. “but a mistake like this isn’t something small like forgetting to properly close and wipe down everything or put up the chairs.”
toge nodded understandingly, arms tightly crossed over his chest as he shamefully looked to the side, feeling like the biggest pathetic loser for doing something like this that could’ve been entirely avoided if he just did his damn job correctly.
“it’s alright.” his manager reached and patted a heavy hand to his shoulder. “it happens. it’s just unfortunate that we got broken into right when it did.”
toge looked at him.
“we can’t open today because there’s glass everywhere… so if you can stay and call up the insurance for the shop—” he pointed to the wall, their number amongst others typed and labeled. “—and file an insurance claim in any way you can for me that’d be great. i’m gonna go down to the police station and report.”
toge quickly nodded, typing again on his phone before showing him.
‘okay sounds good. i’m really really sorry and this won’t happen again.’
his manager waved him off with a smile. “don’t sweat, inumaki. i’m pretty sure i did this too when i was working except it was my works safe and not the register…”
softly chuckling, toge nodded once more and gave his manager a tiny wave as he patted his shoulder again before stepping around the glass, leaving.
regardless of being lucky enough to have such an understanding boss, toge still felt like complete and utter shit as he stood behind the counter slumped over after, on hold with the insurance company for thirty minutes now as he stared at the broken shards and the register.
you had gotten toge’s text the minute you woke up and quickly got up to get ready, not even bothering to change into anything different as you left with his pajamas on you and his little whiteboard, hopping into your car and speeding off knowing how much he needed it for work sometimes.
and when you pulled into the shops parking lot, confusedly already noticing scattered glass on the concrete walking up, you froze in front of the coffee shop upon seeing the windows and doors completely shattered— toge propping his forehead up with his palm on the counter solemnly.
“toge?”
he looked up.
“what happened?”
his shoulders dropped in relief and he slowly came around the counter, opening his arms a little and pulling you in as he buried his face into your hair, sighing.
you hugged him back. “are you okay? did this happen right now?”
he shook his head and stepped back, taking the whiteboard from you.
‘someone broke into the shop last night. but i forgot to lock up the register and cash in the money so they stole that too.’
“oh my god!” you gasped, hands flying over your mouth. “fuucckkkk was your manager mad? don’t tell me he fired you—”
toge erased and wrote before flipping the board over.
‘no just disappointed. but i still feel like such a fucking moron for forgetting and i hate that i did.’
“toge..” you sighed sadly, running your hands over his upper arms. “it’s okay you’re human baby. these things happen so don’t feel like that please..”
he nodded a little before ducking down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.
you smiled and looked around.
“seeing the shop like this is nuts.”
he hummed in agreement.
toge stuck around for a little while, you next to him behind the counter still waiting on hold with the insurance company, feeling awfully bad for keeping you here when he knew you wanted to go shopping for a dress for the party, but him stupidly forgetting again that he couldn’t speak— too caught up in trying to make it up to his manager for his fuck up to think about how exactly he was going to talk to the insurance company on the other line, you demanding to help him.
sometime down the line when the insurance claim was filed, toge’s manager told him that if he wanted to open up the shop for the day he could, and to just sweep up the glass a little from the ground and fix up the place a little so it didn’t look like they just got robbed.
and because toge was still in his self dreaded state of guilt and shame over what happened, he immediately agreed to, trying to make up for his mistake and see if he could double the shop’s earnings for today.
“i could stay toge let me stay.” you pushed, but he only shook his head and sent you off to do the things he knew you needed to do with a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek, telling you he’d see you at his place to get ready for the party.
but maybe toge was better off telling his manager a bit fat no and going home with you, because it was like everybody that came into the shop following that had eaten a big bag of dicks and salvaged the biggest fucking attitudes out of it to spit back in his face.
no one was understanding him. no one. not a single soul. even when he used his whiteboard to explain everything that certain customers needed, for some reason the extra effort of them having to just read putting them off and yelling and making toge’s shift a living hell.
and it’s not like he’s never managed shifts on his own either— never having an issue and still putting in and preparing orders efficiently like he was supposed to, but he figured the debacle from this morning was setting him off since he couldn’t do anything right at the moment, the attitude he was getting from literally every single fucking customer leaving him wishing he at least had one more person on the floor with him.
but toge was still blaming himself.
why couldn’t anyone understand him? why couldn’t he just speak? his life would be so much easier if he could… and you would’ve been his a long time ago.
so as toge sat there tiredly after work with his eyes closed on a stool next to you in his bathroom, you applying the finishing touches to your hair and makeup— you could practically feel toge’s exhaustion, frustration, and sadness seeping into your skin and insides over the shift he told you he had, your eyebrows pinching anxiously.
“we don’t have to go baby…” you murmured, looking down and playing with the rings on your fingers. “i would much rather stay here with you so you can relax for a little…”
he slowly peeled his eyes open, the sight of you standing there in front of him— so fucking beautiful in your dress and heels and dolled up in the way that you were, made his cheeks buzz pink as he slumped forward and mushed his cheek up against your tummy, wrapping his arms around you and shaking his head.
“are you sure?” you asked gently, running your fingers over his soft hair. “i don’t mind what we do toge… as long as with you i’m okay.”
his heart jumped as he looked up and gave you a cute smile, nodding.
you’d decided to meet in the middle and just go home early so toge could have enough rest for his shift tomorrow, him driving you both to the sorority house and parking a bit down the street amongst dozens of other cars, a little nervous and apprehensive and wondering what he was gonna do if any of your friends came up to talk to him— but the desire to make you happy and accompany you to something that you were so excited for far, far greater.
the night went smoothly for the most part, you in no time at all spotting your friend that initially invited you through the crowd along with some of your other friends that you had no idea were coming in the first place, introducing toge to each one and him giving a small smile and wave in response as he interlaced your fingers and gladly let you lead him to wherever you wanted through the dark and blue lit house, taking sips occasionally of the tequila orange liquor mix from his red solo cup and funnily from yours too— since you had gotten a different punch like flavor that he liked better.
“y/n? i didn’t know you were coming!”
your head snapped to the voice just as you were talking to toge, your eyes widening and a huge smile spreading across your face.
“oh hey! i didn’t know you were either!” you quickly turned to toge. “he’s in my sign language class the one i told you about that teaches us how to cuss—”
your friend laughed, “you talk about me y/n? interestinggg.”
toge quirked a brow.
“not like that—” you slapped his shoulder. “i talk about you so i can build up the stamina to rat you out.”
he gasped dramatically. “says the one who bothered me last class to teach her how to sign the word cunt.”
“no i didn’t— wait actually i did.”
your friend laughed again but diverted his attention momentarily to someone pulling on his arm a bit.
toge nudged you gently and you turned.
‘i’m gonna go get a drink mouse.’ he signed.
“okay!” you nodded. “i’ll wait for you here.”
he nodded, kissing your head before leaving— the kitchen not too far from where you both were originally at as he walked and threw away the drink he had initially and scanned the counter, looking for the fruity punch one you got before spotting it and picking one up from the rows of others, the smell of alcohol filling his nostrils.
“hey sorry to bother, which flavor is that?”
toge froze and looked over, a girl standing there and pointing at his cup.
oh shit.
toge pointed to his cup.
“yeah, which flavor is that one? i’ve tried the others but not that one yet.”
oh fuck.
why couldn’t he just talk?
the girl quirked a brow at his silence, and just when she was about to say something else, someone came through the kitchen.
“i think that one’s tutti frutti but i could be wrong.”
she turned to the other person and nodded, giving toge an awkward look before walking around him to get a cup for herself.
toge covered his eyes with a hand in complete fucking mortifying embarrassment, cheeks warm as he leaned against the kitchen sink in the lowest low he had ever lowed.
or so he thought.
because the sound of your loud pretty laughter had him slowly looking up and taking his hand away, you conversing so— so openly and freely with your friend from sign language triggering a hint of jealousy and bitterness in his chest. bitter as to why he was cursed to deal with something like this, bitter over the loser that was blatantly obviously flirting with you… but jealous of him that he was able to open his mouth and speak to you in whatever words and phrases he wanted, syllables flying out without any sort of pain or blood as a paying price like he had to.
that’s what you needed… that’s what you should have. not him.
not his inevitable silence and whiteboards and constant pauses, his lack of being able to tell you how much he loved you and how much you meant to him whenever, wherever… without being tied down to a marker or a phone.
his mixup from this morning, his customers not understanding him, everybody else not understanding him, has led him to believe that someone as beautiful as you shouldn’t carry the burden of even trying to.
toge knew from the very first time you came into the coffee shop that you were going to unknowingly break his heart if he let you in because of his situation… and fuck did he let you in.
and now he had to break yours so you could find and be with what you deserved.
toge walked over to you then, head down with his jaw tight and mind fogged over as you doubled over in laughter over something your friend said.
“wait—” you gasped. “wait toge he just told me that—”
“is he your boyfriend?” you friend asked, pointing to him.
well, toge still hadn’t really asked you… but he gave you a promise ring, and you were both wearing them tonight so—
your eyes snapped to toge, who was shaking his head no.
…no?
your brows furrowed.
“oh! i thought you guys were together, my bad.”
toge twitched over the way your friend sounded relieved, but you didn’t notice a thing, still looking at him with the most gutting look that made him want to scream.
“yeah.. my bad too.” you mumbled, your friend not catching it as he then got pulled by the shoulder to a different crowd, him calling over that he would come find you later on in the night.
“no?” you repeated to him.
‘come with me outside.’ he signed before slowly walking and leading you back to the kitchen and through the backyard doors, the chilling cold night air a refreshing break from the stuffiness inside.
“if this is a joke it’s not that funny toge.” you mumbled, hugging yourself as you closed the door behind you.
he looked at you sadly.
‘you shouldn’t be with me mouse.’ he signed.
“what?” you breathed out. “what are you talking about?”
‘i can’t give you what you need.’
“what i need?”
he nodded. ‘it won’t work. you and me.’
“toge—” your chest picked up speed, tears prickling a bit at your eyes. “you’re telling me all of this yet no answers— why won’t we work.”
‘you should be with someone that can talk to you and tell you that they love you and say anything without all of this baggage—’
“wait wait slow down i can’t—” you put your hands out. “you’re signing too fast i can’t understand you—”
you couldn’t understand him.
and toge realized that the reasoning he had would be something that you would counter and fight for, and something he would more than one hundred percent give in to you winning just so he could have you again.
he needed to make you hate him so it would be easier for you to move on.
toge dropped his arms, a defeated look on his face as he shoved a hand in his pocket for his phone, typing out a message to you.
you received it on the other end, your phone illuminating your face as you opened it.
(toge :D): i realized after we confessed that this isn’t what i want anymore and im sorry
your jaw dropped, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him.
“what the fuck do you mean.”
his thumbs shook as he typed, his heart pulling and screaming at the muscles and nerves tied to them for him to stop.
(toge :D): we’re better off as just friends. i’m really sorry that i realized after the fact. you deserve someone better anyways and i just don’t think it’s with me.
you let out a sob that ripped him to shreds, hand coming over your mouth in disbelief as you stared at the blurry screen in your grasp.
he realized this after the fact? after messing around with you for almost three years? after confessing to you and saying he loves you? after being intimate?
you felt fucking used.
“you’re realizing this now?” you shook your head. “toge— you realize we’ve been flirting like this for as long as we’ve known each other and all of a sudden you’re pulling back? after you got your fucking fill? after kissing me and telling me that you love me, and— and after—”
you ran an exasperated trembling hand through your hair. “toge we had sex and you’re telling me this isn’t what you want?”
god this is everything he wants.
but toge bit his tongue, him strained all over with a locked painful jaw as you yelled at him, his eyes glossy over how much he was hurting you as he stiffly nodded.
you stepped closer, jabbing a finger to his chest. “look at me in the eyes right now and tell me if our entire fucking friendship before leading up to our bullshit confessions was all a lie. tell me right now if this—” you held your hand up, the promise ring he gave you shimmering under the fairy lights of the backyard. “—was a lie when you promised me that you would always help me and love me.”
toge breathed in and out shakily, swallowing thickly as he slowly nodded, his entire body in absolute detriment.
holy fucking shit.
how long had you been this stupid for you to not realize the kind of person he actually was?
but— but it didn’t make any sense. this wasn’t toge. this wasn’t toge at all you didn’t know who the fuck you were yelling at right now because toge would never do this to you.
“do you know why i’m learning sign language in the first place?”
toge blinked back tears, shaking his head no.
“i started taking sign language for you, asshole!” you sobbed. “when i was stupidly crushing on you at the shop before we talked for the first time, i noticed you knew sign language and i signed up for you so it’d be easier for you to communicate with me without always having to use your whiteboard.”
he felt a pang to his heart, harshly wiping his eyes.
“but even then i don’t fucking care toge! you could have absolutely nothing to talk to me with and i’d still love you and do anything for you because that’s how much i’m in love you!”
you sobbed as your shoulders shook violently, hands covering your eyes.
“glad to know the feelings not mutual.”
oh he takes it back.
he takes it all back.
toge reached for your hands and you pushed him away.
“you’re so full of shit toge.” you sniffled. “if this is what you want then fine. take this fucking—”
you slipped the ring off from your finger and threw it at him, the feeling of it thudding against his chest and clinking to the ground beneath his feet close enough to a damn bullet.
he shook his head frantically, picking up your ring and following you up the steps of the porch, grabbing your hand and pulling you back, but you only shaking it off and trudging on forward.
“mouse—” he spoke. “please stop—”
the sound of his rare voice made you freeze in place, unmoving and feeling guilt pool in your stomach at the sound of him reeling over and coughing violently as a result.
he spoke to you… but his dreaded words from earlier still lingered in your mind, betrayal etched into your chest like a tattoo.
“don’t call me that.” you mumbled over your shoulder, swinging the door open to the kitchen and slamming it shut.
toge heard nothing from you for four weeks.
even through all of the calls and texts he sent you, he started to conclude that you actually blocked his number the moment you left him that night, unable to see his actual explanation through the masses of messages he sent you and still continued to even after confirming the thought that you had blocked him.
he couldn’t believe himself. he couldn’t believe he actually hurt you and drove you away like that.
and toge had never felt so much self hatred, missing you like fucking crazy throughout those weeks— it reminding him of that one time when you first started getting to know each other where you disappeared for a week, except far far worse now that you had both built so much together over the years.
his life felt empty now that you weren’t in it.
and funnily enough, his job— something he had gotten before you, now solely reminding him of you as he tried to work without throwing something over the random flashbacks he’d have of that night, blending and serving drinks and sliding them over the pickup counter all meaningless if you weren’t there at your usual table to give him a cheeky smile and sign the word ‘cheese’ to make him laugh on the other side.
his little mouse.
and toge silently cried almost every night at his desk, him clutching your ring.
you were basically the same way as him, if not fucking lower as you were the one that was practically presumably dumped and used, you unable to sleep for hours on end in your bed and your parents wondering what the hell happened between the two of you as they tried to console your tears through your restless nights, you half in denial that this was your reality and toge was out of your life.
after some time, you realized that you had left nearly half of your things in toge’s apartment, it settling into your mind how much time you actually spent with him and not at your own house as you constantly found yourself needing things but couldn’t have them because they were over there— one of those things unfortunately being your freaking sign language textbook.
there was absolutely no way you could get it, and you opted to borrowing your friends for the longest time… but by the time you reached the beginning of the fifth week without toge, you started feeling really bad for continuously bothering your friend for her book when you could just suck it up and get yours.
so you made your jumbled mind up and reached for your phone one day after your morning class, going to toge’s contact number and unblocking him before texting.
(you): hi. sorry to bother but i left some things in your apartment that i need. i was wondering if i could come by today to get them.
toge nearly jumped out of his skin at your pretty name flashing across his phone while he was lazily and depressingly laying in bed, scrambling to type back not even a minute later.
(toge): yes of course
(toge): i’m home right now if you want to come
(toge): and you’re never a bother
you pursed your lips, a lump building in your throat.
(you): okay. i’ll be there in a few minutes.
toge flung his scattered clothing inside his closet or literally anywhere that was out of eyesight, trying to turn his rut of a room back to how it looked like when you were always here, shaking out a big garbage bag and throwing all of his trash in there (along with all of the cake pop, cheese danish, and blueberry scone wrappers…), opening the blinds and straightening out his sheets.
you pulled into his apartment complex parking lot and parked not too long after, your hands drenched in sweat and your body rigid as you came up to his floor and over to his apartment number, knocking even though you had the key.
you almost turned back to leave once you heard his padded footsteps, but decided against is as he was already opening the door.
and my god, seeing him hurt a lot more than you thought it would.
his eyes were soft as they looked at you, and red like yours, him quickly stepping to the side to let you in and you doing so with your head down, not saying a single word.
“i think—” you shakily spoke, eyes already watering as he closed his door with a click. “i think i’m just gonna get my sign language textbook for now i’ll come back some other time for the rest—”
you felt a little tug at your hand, and you turned, his shoulders slumping at your teary eyes, stray droplets slipping down your cheeks already.
‘please don’t cry.’ he signed. ‘i’m so sorry for everything.’
you snorted, shaking your head as you reached behind you to get your textbook.
“sorry for stringing me along and using every part of me until you were bored? sure.”
he frantically shook his head no, panic rising in his chest as he watched you step around him and head for the door.
he couldn’t let you leave.
because he had a feeling if he did, he actually would never see you again.
toge quickly grabbed your wrist and tugged you back around.
“what toge—”
‘stay for a bit.’ he shakily signed. ‘please just stay and let me explain.’
you followed his signage, and your eyes narrowed. “explain what? there’s nothing to explain—”
toge swiped his phone from his bed and opened it, going to your contact to type out a message.
you hesitantly pulled yours out and waited, your phone vibrating against your hand once he sent it over.
(toge): i lied about absolutely everything i said that night. i don’t think any of those things at all. i’ve wanted you so fucking bad from the start y/n, i’ve been ready to be with you i don’t think for a second we’re better off as friends i want more with you always and for the rest of my life.
what?
he sent another message.
(toge): i said what i said because throughout our friendship i told myself like a fucking idiot that i couldn’t let you all the way in because i can’t talk. i kept thinking that you needed someone who you can talk to you whenever you want without having to always step back and read or write like you have to with me. i didn’t want you to carry that baggage and deal with me and i just felt like a burden, and i love you so fucking much that i wanted better for you.
you sniffled and wiped your cheeks, you rubbing away lonesome tears that landed on your phone screen.
(toge): but i’m selfish baby i’ve BEEN selfish. i said those horrible things to you so it’d be easier for you to move on and im so sorry. none of them are true. i don’t want you to move on from me. i didn’t use you i could never and that night we had sex was the most meaningful experience of my life. i love you more than anything in my life, and im gonna be selfish again and please ask you to come back to me. you’re my best friend and more, and i still believe that you need someone better and that can give you more than i can, but i just can’t let you go man i’ve been physically sick for four weeks without you.
you cried still and he typed again.
(toge): i’m selfish and i’m in love with you mouse. i’m sorry.
“toge!” you cried and chucked your phone to his bed, flinging your arms around his neck and pulling him in a tight embrace— the weight completely lifting off both of your shoulders at the feeling of your bodies pressed against each others like a perfect little key in a lock, toge hugging you back so so fucking tight with his face in your neck that he practically squeezed the air out of your lungs entirely.
“i love you.” he spoke, his words incredibly powerful in your ear even though it couldn’t have been more than a mere whisper, the sound and depth of his voice ringing through your head and one you wanted to remember forever and ever, feeling so incredibly loved over the fact that he’d use his voice for you even when it hurt him so much.
but he really didn’t need to. you just wanted him.
and you’ve never been so happy to hear someone tell you that they lied.
toge pulled back a bit and turned his head to the side, stuffing his mouth into the crook of his elbow and coughing.
you pressed your cheek against his once he was done, kissing it a few times beforehand and him closing his eyes at the feeling of your lips on his skin after so long.
“you okay?” you murmured softly, and he nodded.
“i love you too, toge.” you tightened your arms around his neck. “please don’t ever think that you’re a burden or giving me baggage to carry. i’ve never ever felt that way and neither should you.”
you stepped back and cupped his cheeks.
“i need you, baby. i don’t need anything or anyone else but you. someone that has the ability to talk can’t give me even ten percent of what you’ve been giving me. i’m happy with you. the happiest i’ve ever been is when i’m with you… okay?”
toge grinned, huge and shiny as he nodded and leaned forward and captured your lips in a kiss— the both of you utterly deprived as your mouths smacked and moved in haste, his hands running and squeezing over your body with labored breathing between the two of you.
he pulled apart for a second and you stopped.
“what baby?” you breathed, watching as he raised his arms.
‘please be my girlfriend mouse.’ he signed. ‘or i’ll die.’
you giggled cutely and a blush rose on both of your sore cheeks from smiling so much, you happily nodding and roughly pulling him back in to continue.
and how lucky was toge to have such a sweet little mouse that cared for him this much? for someone who couldn’t even speak? who had the greatest level of patience and not once ever complained about the burden she had to carry?
you learned sign language for him. solely for him. the reasons he was thinking about how he’d be baggage to you, was amazingly the total opposite on your end, as you didn’t want to be baggage to him when it came down to communication with you— as if something like that were ever even possible.
and you learned sign language for him— a totally beautiful and different and complex language that was iterated through the feeling of arms and body, to be read across with purposeful moving hands and symbols and diligent fingers— somehow looking even more beautiful when it was you that was doing it.
silence was toge’s greatest form of love… one that you received with open arms and acceptance without a twinge of judgement in your heart, and one that toge only ever wanted you to receive.
you.
his little mouse.
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sttoru · 1 year ago
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·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you’ve been one of sukuna’s many concubines for quite a while now. yet, you still cannot get rid of the jealousy in your system whenever he interacts with the other women in his harem.
wc. idk around 1 to 2k
tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (hurt to comfort), fluff, suggestive at the end. heian era. you call sukuna ‘my lord’. reader gets called ‘brat, little girl’. size difference. no part2, don’t ask i beg. not beta read.
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“get back here, brat,” sukuna raises his voice as he follows you. he isn’t one to care about others’ emotional outbursts, yet here he is, chasing you after you’ve poured out your heart to him.
you don’t know why you’re this upset. you do know, however, that it’s childish of you to walk away mid dinner. you should’ve just stayed seated and refuse to let the thoughts consume you.
now you’re speed walking down the hallways of the estate—your legs carrying you as fast as they can without actually making a run for it. your mind keeps replaying the ‘unsettling’ scene that caused you to flee.
you remember it vividly. the sound of sukuna’s low, amused chuckle. how intrigued it was because of something another concubine told him—how he stopped chewing to say something back to her. which he rarely does.
hell, you’ve never seen him laugh around his other concubines.
“i do not wish to talk to you right now, my lord,” you reply, voice raised so the distance wouldn’t make it a hassle for the king of curses to hear you. you know that feisty attitude of yours entertains sukuna to no end.
he raises an eyebrow once he’s heard your voice; how it’s dripping with envy and hurt. you’ve never reacted like that before—at least not in his presence. it made him want to figure out why and how.
though, he can easily guess the reasoning behind your sudden defiance.
“oh, that so?” sukuna hums. he’s lenient with you this time around. he could catch up to you in under a split second, but he decides to give you that sense of accomplishment first before completely destroying it. he walks after you slowly, your fast steps being the same tempo as his slow pace.
you don’t answer. you’re stubborn. you have no right to feel jealous. you are a fairly new concubine—only a couple months ago did you join sukuna’s harem. yet, the time spent with him was precious.
he treats you differently. everyone notices that. everyone tells you the same. you know he does by the way he lets you off the hook with most stuff you say and do.
you don’t know what you did to gain his favouritsm, but it’s addicting. his attention is addictive. real addictive.
you had sworn not to develop any unneccessary feelings for that ruthless sorcerer. but, with the way sukuna treated you so gently behind closed doors, it was impossible not to.
you eventually reach the doors to your chambers. you slide them open and wish to close them behind you, only for a big hand to halt those movements. you freeze in place and refuse to look up at the owner of that said hand.
“look up,” sukuna demands. his voice causes goosebumps to appear on your arms, but you still don't budge. he clicks his tongue. that’s your first warning. two more and your punishment will be carried out, “we can do this the hard way too if you want.”
you turn your head, your fingers curling around the material of your kimono. you really should not feel this way about a little interaction between sukuna and his other concubine. that is none of your concern. what he does with those other women is none of your concern.
and yet. . .
“i don't want to,” you retort. sukuna walks into your room with a sigh. each step he takes forwards, you take backwards. your back finally bumps against the wall next to your bed.
sukuna towers over you, his tall and big frame making you feel vulnerable. especially with the way those red eyes of his are staring down at you. he crosses all four of his arms before speaking.
“tell me what’s running through that head of yours,” sukuna inquires sternly. he isn’t playing around anymore, you can tell. you glance the other way—knowing that he will laugh at you the moment you tell him why you’re upset.
you have a feeling he knows the reason behind your tantrum anyway.
“it’s nothing of importance, my lord,” you shake your head and relax your tense shoulders to make you seem less upset. your words have some truth in them—you don’t think your feelings of envy hold any value to him.
sukuna sighs again. he’s trying his best not to be annoyed at you. you’re his favorite and he wishes not to sadden you any further. he steps forwards, one hand moving to cup the side of your face.
his rough fingers play with a string of your hair, “i’m not stupid, little girl. i don’t like it when my woman is in distress.”
your heart skips a beat. this is what confuses you—how he can go from stern to gentle and vice versa. it’s surprisingly unexpected, which makes you long for more. even if his behaviour is confusing.
you look up at sukuna. your eyes meet for the first time in a good couple minutes. the corner of sukuna’s lips curls up into a satisfied smirk. that’s one step closer to getting you to open up.
“now,” the king of curses lowers his head to your eye level, the proximity all the more nerve wracking. he holds your jaw super tightly out of the blue. it makes you whimper.
“spit it out.”
there it is. the duality of the man strikes once more. you swallow the spit that’s been building up in your mouth. you bite your bottom lip lightly, trying to gather and form the right words to explain yourself.
sukuna wouldn’t understand. he’s a cold-hearted man who doesn’t care about such ‘trivial’ matters. he’ll just call you stupid, pathetic or whatever other derogatory term.
you stop your thoughts for a moment.
“it’s really just a stupid thing,” you mutter. your fingers curl around sukuna’s wrist—the one hand he’s using to firmly hold your jaw. you take a deep breath in, “i did not like it when you, errr. . . when that woman talked to you at the dinner table.”
your voice is clearly dripping with jealousy. pure, pure jealousy. and for what? because he talked to his other concubine. you feel stupid. you thought you discarded your personal feelings for the sorcerer before you the moment you turned into one of his many women.
“that woman?” sukuna tilts his head, feigning ignorance. that little grin on his face tells you enough. he’s playing with you like some form of entertainment. well, technically you are.
he wants you to be specific. he’s forcing you to be by acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.
in all honesty, sukuna’s already forgotten what that woman had said to him. it wasn’t and still isn’t worth remembering. all he can recall is your adorable facial expression when you saw him interact like that with his other concubine.
that little frown on your face was priceless. it makes him want to keep teasing you.
“you know who i am talking about, my lord,” you huff, trying to look away, but get stopped by sukuna readjusting his grip on your jaw. he firmly yet gently taps your cheek once and you know what it means.
“attitude,” sukuna warns with a quick hiss. he can let you say whatever you want to him, but you also have some limits regarding which tone you use with him. you apologise quietly under your breath.
the king of curses nods in satisfaction before releasing the grip on your jaw. his large hand trails down to your neck, thumb rubbing up and down your throat, “so, my little girl is mad at me because i talked to another concubine of mine, huh?”
you nod mindlessly. sukuna can easily get you to comply with him—to obey his every word, simply with his actions. the terms of endearment he uses are the cherry on top. they slip off his tongue so easily with you.
“tsk tsk,” sukuna shakes his head. his hand is now on the back of your head, fingers tangled into your hair. he’s staring down at you with a smug expression. he knows he’s got you wrapped around his finger, “how childish of you.”
you knew that would be one of the things he’d say to you. what you didn’t expect is for him to go for a kiss right after. his lips land on yours firmly, and to no surprise, you instantly return the gesture.
your arms wrap around his neck—your chest pressing against his. sukuna wastes no time in picking you up and letting your legs encircle his waist. he’s not pulling away for air to breathe and you don’t either.
“you’re going to listen to me, yeah?” sukuna murmurs between passionate kisses. he’s holding onto you tightly with two arms, his free hands roaming over your body whilst he pins you against the wall.
when you whimper out a weak, high-pitched ‘yes, my lord’, he smirks against your mouth before turning to kiss your neck. he slightly bites the skin to make sure you’re paying attention to him.
“i don’t remember what that woman said,” sukuna continues, nearly out of breath because of the kisses he’s leaving all over you. he easily grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head on the wall, “i was too busy lookin’ at a much prettier concubine of mine.”
he pulls back a little so he can look you in the eyes. you’re panting and embarrassed by what he just said. one of his hands finds your face again, tracing the shape of your mouth.
“my favourite,” sukuna whispers whilst licking his lips. you can see it in his eyes: he’s silently planning out how he’s going to remind you of your place. your place as his favorite concubine.
he dips his head back down, aiming for the valley between your breasts. he closes his eyes before sucking on the surrounding flesh;
“guess i’ll be nice for once ‘nd show you just what it means to be my favorite so that you’ll never dare forget it again.”
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