#THIS HAS BEEN IN THE WORKS FOR A WHILE FUCK IT LETS POST

[urfavhecate]

I’ve been waiting for too long | drunk!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: After your breakup with Wanda, Natasha takes care of you… good care…

Warnings: oneshot, drunk Natasha, SMUT, +18, MDNI ! drunk sex, breakup mention, short one, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), multiple orgasm, kinda overstimulation.

Note: Hey guy, it has been long time since last post. As always… English isn’t my first language sp im sorry for all mistakes. This year I have my finals so it’s hard to find time for hobbies but I hope I’ll find more time to write some stuff. If you have any ideas for next shots or stories m requests are open, or if you want to yapp a little I’m also here. <3

No one is allowed to copy, translate or pubish my work as their own!

The life of an Avengers was never easy. As soon as you started your relationship with Wanda, you felt like you had found everything you needed, almost like you had grabbed God by the legs. However, as it quickly turned out, nothing lasts forever, because a few months later Wanda broke up with you.

It was one of those evenings when the Avengers tower seemed empty. While everyone else was busy with their own things, Natasha was sitting in the living room drinking her beer. When she saw you enter the room, she handed you a bottle so you could rest a bit.

„Have a drink and relax” she simply said. You thanked her and fell down on the couch next to Natasha. She just looked at you, knowing something was wrong. "Rough day?" she asked with a stoic face.

“Wanda broke up with me,” you replied quietly, your voice breaking at the thought of what had happened. “She chose that fucking toaster on legs over me.”

Natasha couldn’t help but giggle softly at the comment. “Vision you mean?”

“i don’t get it… what did i do wrong?”

Natasha’s smirk disappeared from her face. She leaned back on the couch, and she sighed before she could muster up a response. “Maybe you didn’t do anything… Sometimes its about what people want or don’t want”

“But him?! Really?! What did he have what i don’t?” You were irritated just thinking about him. He was a robot, he wasn’t even human.

"Beats me... He can fly and shoot lasers from his head" Natasha laughed again "You know... not everyone has good taste"

You laughed softly as you started to question whether or not he had a metal dick. You started to joke as Natasha smiled knowing that she cheered you up a bit, she didn't like seeing you down. Your relationship had always been weird. It wasn't just friendly flirting, but you never talked about what was between you, pretending that you were just friends and worked together.

“I think we should find you a new hobby because I don’t want to picture his metal dick again” The redhead laughed.

“I have one idea… We could always go to a bar”

It wasn’t long before you ended up at one of the nearby bars, drinking and dancing. A few shots and drinks later, you both were visibly tipsy, the alcohol was taking effect. Natasha’s usual composure loosened as her inhibitions lowered, her gaze more carefree and lighthearted. She leaned back against the barstool, studying you with a lazy smirk on her face.

“What?” you giggled noticing she was staring at you.

“Nothing… You just a lot more fun when youre drunk” she answered letting inner thoughts threaten to spill out.

When you finished on the dance floor, your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, you danced and your bodies rubbed against each other. She let her hand drift to your hip, pulling you even closer to her. Her eyes met yours, dark with mix of intoxication and desire.

“You're beautiful you know that?” you mumbled moving closer to her, your lips were now just inches apart.

“Am I?” she murmured softly, her voice a low seductive purr “Or is that just the alcohol talking”

“you are hot as fuck” Natasha's smirk turned cocky as her eyes burned with desire. She gently pushed you backwards until your back hit the wall, trapping you against it with the weight of her body. Her hand moved from your hip to your chin, tipping your face up to meet her gaze. Natasha chuckled, her body pressing against yours, her hand still holding your chin, her gaze boring into yours. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your earlobe, her voice a heady whisper in your ear.

"You don't know what you're asking for," she muttered huskily, her free hand roaming over the fabric of your clothes. "I can make you feel things you've never felt before." Wanda wasn’t really dominant so this was new and exiting at the same time.

Natasha dragged you into a taxi and you headed back to the tower. Throughout the whole way, you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves, wandering over the other woman's body.

Natasha's patience had reached its limit. The moment the elevator doors closed behind you, she punted. She slammed you against the wall, her body trapping yours, her gaze smoldering with desire.

"I can't wait anymore," she panted, her hands roaming all over your body, touching you with a desperate need. Her lips found your neck, kissing and nipping, leaving a trail of heated affection “I’ve been waiting for too long”

You moaned when her lips touched your neck and your fingers tangled with her hair. Natasha hummed against your neck, the sound a mixture of approval and desire. Your moan sent a jolt of arousal through her body, fueling her need to feel your skin against hers. Her hands roamed freely over your body, slipping under your clothes, seeking more contact, more flesh. Her kisses moved up until her lips found yours, capturing them in a passionate, demanding kiss.

When you got out of the elevator, Natasha immediately pushed you against the wall. Natasha groaned when you wrapped your leg around her waist, the action bringing your bodies even closer together. She ground her hips against you, the movement hard and desperate, her need for you becoming almost primal. She broke the kiss just long enough to let out a ragged exhale, her breath mingling with yours. "I want you. Now."

“Say it again... please….” You moaned. Natasha's hand gripped your hip, her fingers digging into your flesh as she pushed you harder against the wall. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice a low, sinful whisper.

"I want you. I need you. Now." Her hand slid up the length of your thigh, hooking your leg over her hip, the movement more possessive than ever before. "You understand?"

At that moment, you didn't care about the breakup or that anyone could see you two. Natasha's sloppy kisses were driving you crazy, so you dragged her to your room. Natasha pushed you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and pinning your hands above your head.

"Wanda never dominated you huh?" Natasha smiled knowing it was true. "Baby with me you'll feel things you could only dream of with Wanda"

A moment later they ended up naked in your bed. Natasha moved lower kissing your chest, your stomach and finally ending between those legs. She couldn't help herself and ran her tongue through your wet folds. She moaned loudly at the taste of you on her tongue.

"oh god... you taste so good"

Your fingers tangled in her hair holding her where you needed her the most. Her tongue moved faster and faster, and you squirmed beneath her. Natasha grabbed your thighs to keep you in place. She continued to eat your pussy like it was her last meal. She was hungry for your taste. It wasn't long before she added her fingers, pushing two of them roughly into your pussy. You moaned with pleasure, wanting more. You tugged at her hair, holding her between your shaking legs. Her movements were still sloppy from the alcohol. She mumbled something under her breath as she gently sucked on your clit.

"I’m… I’m gonna... cum... Natasha please… can I cum?" you moaned. Your body trembled as you ere closer to the pleasure, as Natasha’s fingers curled inside you, finding that sweet spot.

"Good girl, asking for permission... such a submissive good girl." Natasha mumbled, pushing another finger into your pussy "Cum for me baby"

It wasn't long before you came on Natasha's face. The redhead lapped up your juices, not wanting to waste a single drop. Her face was covered in your orgasm and her eyes still held a hunger. Her pupils were much larger and her irises were a darker shade of green.

“Nat… Natasha… oh god… fuck…!”

“Good girl, scream my name… my good girl” she kept mumbling.

As you came down from your high, you thought Natasha would pull away to kiss you, but she continued eating your pussy. She couldn't hold back, it only took a moment for her to become addicted to your taste. Natara's free hand pressed gently against your lower abdomen.

"Natasha...tooo sensitve..." you tried to pull away but Natasha held you in place.

"Don't you dare move. Just one more"

Natasha continued fucking you not paying attention to the overwhelming pleasure that was spreading throughout your body. Life mattered to your cheeks. Your legs shook as Natasha's fingers moved in and out at a rapid pace. You squirmed, moaning her name like a prayer.

"I can't...I can't…" You kept screaming.

"You can do it baby....You'll feel so good..."

“Tell me when you belong to… Tell me you’re mine…” She softly bit your clit.

“I’m yours… only yours…”

As you came a second time Natasha smiled and kissed your forehead. Her hands moved to your breasts. “I’m not done with you yet”

[pocketsizepipebomb]

They went for everything. It was slow but they went for everything, the autonomy laws, the voter's rights, they made slaves of people and had them whistle while they work. Then they came for beliefs, I was a practicing witch once upon a time. I still light candles and handle crystals and practice under the cover of nightfall like so many ancestors before me. Still have not found a way to magically clean the oven however.

No one tells you how tiresome the minutia of the end of the world really is. None of the history books tell you how - simply annoying it is that you still have to go grocery shopping and decide on whether or not you can get gas and then you can go to work while you still can. All while everything crumbles, while you have weekly meetings about what to do if your workplace has an ICE raid, how to look a seven year old in the eyes and tell them no one is taking them away.

If there's one thing religious people love its a persecution complex. When they ran out of people to hate they went for the witches, they went for Romani before the jews the first time around so far be it from me to make it to the opening act.

I'm trying to clean my oven when i hear anxious rapping on the door. Panicked, fast knocking, I'm all but expecting the cry of sanctuary like in that movie. I go to open the door against my better judgment and no one was there i guess they got tired of waiting, i was going to go back inside but i heard my fence swinging.

I walked over to my shed where I heard winded breathing, and I crack open the door that she did not close.

"P-please. Don't let them take me…" A witch, a young girl pleaded as she hides in my shed. One look at the fear in her eyes as you hear the armored footsteps of the inquisition approached my home. My heart instantly goes to my throat. They don't take heretics lightly nor one that shields them from their hold.

"Oh goddammit," was my noble battle cry as i looked at the child crouched next to my lawn mower. "fuck, stay there, i'll hold them off,"

I went over to the fence just enough time to be face to face with an officer.

"Hello, you startled me," I said brightly, tilting my head as a disarming lady only can. "Can i help you - officer?"

"We're looking for an occultist," he said sounding tired. "we have reason to believe that she ran this way,"

"Oh dear, I'm sorry," I answered. "I had been in the shed for the last ten minutes or so, trying to make some sense of my lawnmower, but my husband is on his way home I can ask him if he saw someone, now what did, she, look like?"

I know I am taking too long to answer him, he is so pissed off about my chirpy housewife voice he cannot wait to be out of there either.

"About five feet tall, red hair she has a red skirt like a -," he struggles to find the words but ends up using the G slur. "type thing you know?"

"No baby, I'm sorry," I answer. "I hadn't seen her." The 'baby' always gets them it's disarming, curtesy is a ladys armor and we have been training for this all our lives as women.

The officer leaves after refusing a cookie, a cup of coffee, some left overs. He relents and takes a bottle of water and an almond cookie as he leaves while i promise to keep a look out for the scoundrel.

"You saved me," i heard her small voice as i walked into the shed to let her know the coast was clear.

"Kid," i say. "first rule of witchcraft, rosemary for protection, valerian for relaxation," i crack open the door an inch just in time to hear the patrol car crash into the lamp post. "and its a common misconception that cyanide is tasteless but if you mix it with amaretto they won't know any better,"

"P-please. Don't let them take me…" A witch, a young girl pleaded as she hides in your shed. You see the fear in her eyes as you hear the armored footsteps of the inquisition approached your home. Your heart thumps. They don't take heretics lightly nor one that shields them from their hold.

[miabebe]

My Girlfriend Faked Her Amnesia (Wen Junhui)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 4

It wasn’t always that life gave one the chance to hit reset, but now that Jun had gotten it, he didn’t have long before time ran out - 10 days to valentine's day which meant 10 chances to make his amnesiac girlfriend remember him again. But it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk - after all, how could one be reminded of the past if they were only pretending to forget?

Pairing - Wen Junhui x afab! Reader

Word Count- 29k

Genre - Heavy angst, romance, hurt comfort, mild humor and as usual, yes, smut - This piece is lowkey inspired by the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind!

Warnings - Car accident, mentions of blood, memory loss, hospital setting

A/n - Hello my loves! This is my bit for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab hosted by the wonderful @camandemstudios, my first ever collab! Please do also check out the stories by all the other writers - everyone has been working super hard on this! I hope you enjoy this piece and leave your thoughtsss :) To be added to the reverse tropes taglist, please comment under this post :)

Smut warnings - This is only the first half (12k) of the story and there is no smut in it yet. Warnings will be added for the second half!

The End: 27th December 2024 

"Careful!" 

You quickly swerved to the side of the road, the car screeching to a stop as the honking truck zoomed past you.

Fuck. Gripping the steering wheel tight, you let out a sigh of relief, your wandering thoughts returning to the present. That was close. 

The man beside you mumbled something under his breath as he unbuckled his seatbelt before alighting the car and opened your door, wordlessly asking you to get out.

You complied, allowing him to take over your role as the driver and quietly slid in the passenger seat.

Adjusting the mirror he glanced up and down the snow clad road before driving off into the darkness. Again, without saying a word. 

That's how things had been between the two of you for a while now. Silent. 

Some might say that after nearly 10 years of being together, the two of you didn't need words to communicate anymore, you just understood each other so well. But only you knew the reality - there was nothing left to say. Everything was at the edge of falling apart. 

You glanced down at your hands, fingers fidgeting. Yes it was cold but it was the emptiness that bothered you. 

Your boyfriend shot you a look before his hand hovered over the controls of the car. 

"Are you feeling cold?" 

See, he didn't understand. He never seemed to understand. And you were tired of explaining but a tiny voice in your head said to try just once more. 

"My mum was asking why there's no ring yet?" Caressing the fingers of your left hand, you looked up, far off at the skies where the morning sun still hadn't made its way up. 

“And what did you say?” 

You turned to him, not hiding the incredulous expression donning your face, “What am I supposed to say Jun?” He looked straight ahead, eyes more focused on the road than required. “How does one answer a question like this?” 

His Adam's apple bobbed with his gulp. “That....we’re not ready?” 

“And looking at us, who will buy that?” 

Jun kept quiet again, perhaps because he knew you were right.

The two of you had been together for the majority of your lives which meant your families, friends, colleagues all were a consistent witness of your relationship. Even over the last week, when you were spending Christmas with your family at the ski cabin, your sister wouldn’t stop talking about how you two were perfect for one another. She didn’t know that behind closed doors, in the privacy of your room, the two of you slept with your backs facing each other.

Jun sighed, noticing you were getting lost in your thoughts again. “Why do we have to justify ourselves to anyone anyways Y/n? This is our life-” 

“You’re right, there’s no need to justify anything to anyone. But you can tell me why, right?” You half turned towards him, leaning against the car door. “You and I can talk about why we’re nearing our thirties and still haven’t made any decision about getting married?” 

“Jesus, twenty five is not considered thirties Y/n." He rolled his eyes exasperated. "Besides, what does age have to do with marriage? Getting married should be something that we decide because we want to spend our lives with each other.”

You blinked at him. “Then do you not want to spend your life with-”

“I did not say that.” He glanced at you before quickly looking back at the road. “Of course, I do. Baby, you and I live together, we do everything together, we are as good as married-”

“So then a wedding would just be a formality right-”

“No, it would be a show!” You flinched a little as he raised his voice, annoyed. “It would be to show the world something, to prove to others that we are committed and will last through it all, as though signing a few documents is a guarantee of that.”

“Marriage isn’t just about that Jun. Do you have any idea how many things will become easier - buying a house, getting loans, so many logistics-”

He scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “That’s what marriage is to you? A practical, logical, legal binding?” 

Biting your lower lip you let out a deep breath. “If you think it should mean much more or that it should be made purely on emotions then what’s stopping you? Or do you not love me anymore-”

“Why would you say that?” He groaned, like he was tired of this conversation. “I do love you, more than anything. Which is why I want you to be able to focus on yourself without taking the burden of a marriage. I want you to fulfill all the dreams you have for your career, for your professional growth-”

“Jun, I can do all of that while being married too-”

“Marriage changes people! It changes priorities, it changes expectations-”

“So that’s what you’re afraid of? Expectations? Because I expect you to be a bit more responsible? To get your act together-”

“It won’t stop at that will it?” He sighed. “This is all our life is going to be - First it’ll be about dividing household chores, who’ll do dishes, who’ll take out the trash. Next it’ll be about finding the perfect house and having children-” 

“We’ve talked about this and you said you didn’t have a problem with having children Jun.” You snapped at him, triggered at his words. “I’m not getting any younger here-”

“And I’ve not grown up!” He slammed the wheel with his hand. “I do want to have kids someday but not now, not any time soon. I… I can barely look after myself, how am I going to look after a child? And if I’m incapable it will mean that you will have to carry the burden of it all - of raising the child, of me and of yourself and I don’t want that for you.”

You fell silent again, realising that the conversation was going just like it always did.

You would go on to insist that you were ready for whatever was to come and the time was right now, Jun would insist that he isn’t willing to let you take on so much and that marriage shouldn’t be about timing, it should be about wanting to be with each other. You would then claim he’s being too emotionally driven about this and he would claim that you were being too practical and the conversation would just be about the two of you justifying your point of views, reaching no conclusion. 

This is what happened every single time. This was what was going to happen again now. And frankly, you were tired of it. 

“When did we start wanting such different things?” You glanced at the road that disappeared into the darkness. The early morning light was not enough to illuminate the path ahead. “I thought…. we were perfect for each other, that we were meant to be. After nearly ten years, where did it all go wrong?”

You didn’t mean for it to sound hurtful, but Jun had always been the sensitive one.  

“Just because we’re not in the same frame of mind right now, doesn’t mean all the years we shared mean nothing.”

“But what does it mean?” You smiled sadly. “We aren’t growing, we aren’t able to help each other grow, what was the point of it all? Ten years and…. we achieved nothing.” 

It was like you were leaving arrow after arrow to pierce his heart - he knew you were the reasonable kind - always planning, always making lists, always marking milestones. Whatever you were saying now, had to be the result of a moment of frustration, not because you were questioning the love that you had for each other…. right? 

You weren’t regretting this, were you? 

He let out the breath he was holding. “Then maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.” 

Please say I’m wrong Y/n. Please say prove me wrong, please say we’re worth it. 

Although you were never really one to be driven by emotions, Jun always was. The one who never forgot anniversaries, the one who always tried to make every moment special, the one who always reminded you that you were not each other’s habits but each other’s love. Had things gone so far that the man who savoured every moment of being in love with you, thought it was better that you never met? 

“Is that what you really think?” You whispered, ignoring the feeling of something pricking the back of your eyes. 

Jun turned to you surprised. How could you even think that? Of course not-

“Careful!” 

Headlights beamed from right across, but this time, Jun’s quick swerve was not enough. 

As the car skidded wildly, with a sickening crunch it slammed into the side of the oncoming truck, the momentum sending it toppling over, rolling violently onto its roof with a screech of metal. As it came to a stop, the sun rose from above the clouds far away and steam rose from what was remaining of the crumpled vehicle. In the heavy stillness that followed, alongside the eerie whisper of the wind, streams of red mixed with the white of the snow. 

Your boyfriend’s hand extending towards you was the last thing you saw before everything went black. 

The Afterlife: 31st December 2024 

Pain. 

Unbearable pain. 

That's what was searing through his body, over and over again. Everywhere, in every inch…. Just pain. 

Perhaps because he hadn’t stopped running. 

Jun had been running in the forest for what seemed like forever. Where to? He had no idea. Where from? He didn’t know that either. 

All he knew was he was looking for something he had lost. Something clearly precious to him. Something he couldn’t live without. 

Yet ignorantly, he kept running. Until....

Jun.

Your voice echoed around him like a soft whisper. Finally stopping by the lake, he looked around, frantically trying to find you. 

It was then, across the frozen crystal clear waters he saw you - beautiful as ever, the only bright thing in the dark, daunting woods. 

He wanted to go to you, he wanted to be with you but the slippery ice didn’t let him take a step forward. 

Instead, you took a step back. 

Then another one. 

Then another. 

Jun continued to call out your name, trying to stop you from receding into the shadows but in vain. Slowly you disappeared into the darkness, the black of the woods engulfing you as Jun fell to his knees, the ice cracking under him. 

Shutting his eyes, he attempted to stop the pain but it only got worse. It was just pain, pain, pain. 

When he opened them, white flickering lights were strangely swaying above him. 

Blinking, Jun tried to see clearly but just then, the ice finally gave away, submerging him into the cold waters. 

As the icy waters of the lake dragged him down, Jun felt his eyes slowly shut again and your name was the last thing he remembered.

The Awakening: 27th January 2025 

The blur flickering light of the ceiling became clear as the rhythmic beeping of machines slowly pulled him from the depths of unconsciousness.

Head throbbing and body aching, an unsettling sense of disorientation washed over him, like he had been asleep for too long. Slowly raising himself on his elbows, Jun looked around, eyes finding the strange setting of a hospital room, the overwhelming smell of antiseptic finally hitting him. 

Shutting his eyes again, he tried to recollect what happened, how he ended up here……

“Y/n…” 

The argument. 

The crash.

The sight of your eyes fluttering shut as blood trickled down your face. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled, looking at all the tubes and wires attached to him, holding him back. Without an ounce of care, he tugged them off, triggering the loud alarms of the machines but before his feet even touched the cold tile of the floor, the doors flung open and a handful of people donning impeccably white coats spilled in, looking worried.

“Sir, please don’t-”

“Where’s Y/n?”

“You need to calm down, you’re not ok-”

He grabbed the collar of the man before him. “Don’t tell me to calm down. Where is Y/n?”

“We…” The doctor looked terrified. “Who is Y/n?”

Annoyed, Jun tugged on his shirt harder. “The car crash, there was a woman with me in the car, in the passenger seat, where is she?” 

“What woman?” The man stuttered, looking at his team confused. “You were brought to our hospital alone.” 

Shocked, Jun loosened his grip, allowing the doctor to quickly move back, putting himself at an arm’s distance. 

Alone?

“That’s not possible….” He muttered. “She was with me, she should be here…” 

“The accident happened in the countryside so you were taken to the nearest emergency care but your injuries were too severe so they shifted you here, to the city hospital.” The doctor looked at him slightly hesitating. “Maybe there was a woman with you, but she wasn’t brought here. Either her condition wasn’t serious enough or she didn’t….”

Eyes narrowing, Jun looked at the shivering man before him. “She didn’t, what?”

“S-she didn’t make it-”

“How dare you?” He spoke between gritted teeth, charging towards the doctor, only to be quickly held back by the nurses around him. “How dare you even suggest something like that-”

“Mr. Junhui, I was only stating the possibility-”

“What you’re saying is not possible-”

“Sir please, your heart rate is getting erratic-”

“I don’t care, I need to find her-”

“You can’t leave.”

“Stop me if you can.” Jun pulled himself free from the grip of those around him, leaving for the door, glaring at the crowd challengingly. 

Only one of them dared to step forward - a woman, one not wearing a doctor’s coat, looking at him with sympathy rather than fear. 

“Sir please….” She whispered softly, slowly approaching him, ignoring the worried looks of those around her. “I understand your worry and I’m so sorry for this but you need to calm down…. I have no other choice.” 

Jun frowned as she neared, maintaining a strong, unavoidable eye contact, the contents of her hands completely missing his vision. Before he could understand what was happening, there was a prick in his arm, hands reaching out to him and the flickering light blurred again as his eyes shut. 

28th January 2025

“Let me go.” 

The events from about 24 hours ago had repeated again. 

The fluttering lights, the machines, the wires, the tubes, the doctors - everything happened in the same sequence except there was one difference this time. When Jun tried to pull on the wires and swing his legs off the bed, he found all four of his limbs restrained. 

“Please.” He whispered. “I need to find Y/n.”

“Sir, there really was no woman brought along with you.” The woman’s eyes reflected the same sympathy they had since the day he had been wheeled in. “We got your records from the emergency center you were taken to.” 

Pulling out a bunch of papers from a file, she placed it on his lap. “There was a woman with you but she was discharged from there within a week.”

“A-a week?” Jun stuttered, looking around. “How long has it been since the accident?” 

“Almost…” She looked at the papers thoughtfully. “Almost a month. You’ve been unconscious all this while, you sustained a traumatic injury to your-”

“What about Y/n?” 

Stepping up and reading through the papers, the doctor from earlier spoke with his expertise. “She had a severe injury on her head too but she gained consciousness about a week after the accident and she…. just left.” 

“Just left?” It felt as though something cold was just dumped on his head. “Just left me?” 

“Mr. Jun, we’re not sure what exactly happened but….” The woman looked at him uncertainly. “The last few weeks that you were here, no woman has come to visit you. Y/n hasn’t been around.” 

Jun let out a shaky breath, “She probably didn’t know I was here. She… she must be looking for me, she must be so worried. I should go to her-” 

“You’re not well enough to leave.” The doctor spoke from behind the woman, worried even though Jun’s movements were restrained. “I wouldn’t suggest-” 

“I don’t want your suggestion. I want you to open these-” He tugged on the belts. “-so I can go.” 

Everyone exchanged looks, shifting in their places.

“Open them!” 

“Again, I’m sorry Mr. Jun.” The woman approached him slowly, an injection clearly visible in her hand this time. “This is for your good.” 

Once again, everything became blur before it all went dark. 

31st January 2025

“She didn’t pick the call.” The woman without a coat, who’s name Jun learnt was Mira, walked up to him. “Again.” 

Sighing, Jun looked outside the window. The streets were busy - cars were going up and down, people were walking about, some laughing, some stressed. But everything was moving, everyone was moving. Only his life had come to a standstill. 

“Do you remember anyone else’s number?” 

Jun shook his head. “Who even memorises numbers these days? Everything is stored on my phone-”

“-which broke in the accident.” She finished for him. 

“I only remember my girlfriend’s number because she forced me to remember it in case of emergencies like these.” He chuckled softly, walking up to the wall with the pictures of the two of you stuck all over. He ran his fingers over the picture of you hugging him from behind, head resting on his shoulder. “She was always so well prepared, always a step ahead….. except now.”

When Jun woke up 3 days ago, Mira had been there to tell him you were nowhere to be found. She had looked for you at home, which had been abandoned for over a month, at the library where you often worked on your projects, at the stores where you preferred to shop, at the park where you jogged every morning. You were nowhere. 

Your family was nowhere to be seen either - the house was locked and the neighbours claimed they had gone somewhere overseas. There was no trace of you at all - it was like you had vanished into thin air, like you were just a mirage, a dream. 

“I wish I could help Jun.” Mira walked up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder, looking around his apartment. “I’m sorry the only thing I could assist you with is getting you back home. But I had someone clean up the place so it should be more habitable now.” 

“Thank you Mira, for everything.” He muttered, slowly moving her arm away, tearing his eyes away from the photographs. “I’m sorry, I… I think I should….. shower, I smell like the hospital.” 

She nodded as Jun disappeared into the washroom, wordlessly asking her to leave. Grabbing her bag, she shot him one last sad look as she hesitatingly made her way out. 

Standing before the mirror, Jun sighed at his reflection - he had never seen himself look this lifeless. Wincing in pain, he removed his shirt slowly, pulling it over his head - almost healed gashes and wounds were littered all over his torso. 

The memory of an injured you flashed behind his shut eyes.

“Where are you Y/n?” He whispered, trying not to let his voice shake. “Come back to me.” 

Jun glanced at the small coffee shop across the road, one he had never seen before, the hanging sign board slowly swaying in the cold wind - Lonely Hearts Cafe. 

So many things had changed over the last month. He, who was the biggest homebody known to mankind, could not bear to stay in his house for another minute. Not where every inch of it was filled with the essence of you, where everything was a reminder of you. A part of him was relieved that there were pictures and traces of you were everywhere - that meant you were real, not a figment of his imagination…. but that also made your absence hurt more. 

He had spent the last few hours wandering the streets mindlessly, trying not to let everything outside the haven the two of you built together remind him of you too. 

But there you were, in your favourite pizza shop on the corner of the street, munching on a slice. Just as he approached, shocked and frantic, you disappeared, like you were never there. And then he saw you again, at the hairdressers this time, getting just the ends trimmed, like always. And then you were by the butchers, petting that little dog you adored. And then by the lake, glancing at the frozen waters, vanishing as usual when he approached to stand by you. Even though you weren’t really around, his eyes found the memories of you everywhere - it was like he didn’t know a life without you. 

There was no life without you.  

The cafe he was currently staring at was perhaps the only place that Jun knew he wouldn’t see you. It looked new, like a business that had just freshly found itself in this vicinity but something about it was also whimsical and fairytale-like, as though it was someone’s old dream came true. Jun had never been a coffee kinda guy - Chinese tea was usually his go-to beverage so it didn’t make sense why he felt this strange urge to go in. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t be haunted by your absence there.

At first, he took a step ahead, attempting to go towards it but he was unable to take another - he didn’t want to not see you. Even though it hurt, he’d rather see the memories of you everywhere than familiarise himself with a life without you. 

So shaking his head, he turned away, heading back home, going back to everything that reminded him of you when…… something caught his eye. 

At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him again because there was no way…. 

Inching closer, ignoring the oncoming traffic and the screaming drivers, he crossed the road, standing right before the large glass windows of the shop. Slowly raising his hand, he wiped the condensation off the frosted glass, catching a clear sight of what was inside. 

You. 

There you were, walking about in a little checkered apron, placing cups of coffee on the table as you flashed your bright smile at those who were seated. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jun turned around, fists tightened painfully. You’ll disappear again, just like all those times before, you’ll disappear again, he was just imagining this, projecting his innermost desire. You weren’t really here….right? 

But the sound of your laughter told him he was wrong. Quickly turning back, he caught sight of you again, making your way to the counter, putting cash into a large glass jar on the wooden shelf. 

As though in a trance, Jun walked over to the door and pushed it open, eyes not leaving you as you laughed and scribbled something down on a notepad before walking to the tables with a bounce in your strut he had never seen before. 

Just as your name found itself on the tip of his tongue, you stopped your tracks and turned around, eyes finding him walking in, lips curling with a wide smile. 

“Hi sir, welcome to Lonely Hearts Cafe.” Clutching the notepad to your chest, you beamed at him. “Do you want to take a seat or get a drink to go?” 

“Y/n…” He whispered, barely able to hear himself, taking a small step ahead.

“Oh I almost forgot,” You softly smacked your head. “If you’re interested, we’re having a small valentines special event, for singles. Any two people who get the exact same drink will be paired to sit at the same table. It’s kind of a ‘if your tastes match, maybe you guys will too’ sort of concept?” 

Given he was staring at you with a vacant expression, you blinked at him like you weren’t quite sure if he understood. 

Jun didn’t understand. Why were you behaving like he was a stranger? Like you didn’t know him. 

Maybe…. this wasn’t you.

“So…” Tucking your loose fringes behind your ear, you tried searching his face for an answer. “What would you like?” 

Jun’s eyes flickered to the healing gash on your forehead, the night of the accident, flashing in his mind again. 

It was you. There was no doubt it was you. 

And so without a second thought, Jun took two big strides, pulling you towards him, wrapping his arms around you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Excuse me?! Sir-”

“Where have you been?” He muttered, not realising you were struggling to break free from his grip. “I’ve been looking for you-”

“Get off me!” Using all your strength, you pushed him off you, causing the man to take a few staggering steps back, shocked. 

All heads in the cafe turned towards the two of you, a strange silence descending upon the room before hushed whispers broke out. Flashing a fake smile at everyone, you quickly grabbed Jun by his wrist, leading him out of the cafe, shutting the door behind you. 

“What the hell was that?” You glared at him. “Sir, I don’t know who you think you are, but that was unacceptable.” 

Jun blinked at you confused. “I thought….I thought-” 

“I don’t care what you thought.” You crossed your arms looking stern, all the warmth from earlier having left your being. “If I ever see you in my cafe again, I swear to god I will call the cops.”

“You…” Jun looked at you incredulously. “You’ll call the cops on me?” 

“Most definitely.” 

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Why would you call the cops on him? Were you mad at him about something?

Jun’s racked his mind, trying to think of the last conversation the two of you had. The night of the accident. He couldn’t remember all too well, but the image of you glancing at your empty ring finger flashed in his mind. 

“Is this about….getting married?” You frowned as Jun ran his hands through his hair. “If it really means this much to you then, fine, let’s get married. I just wanted it to be-”

“Married?” You looked at him like you couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Why on Earth would I marry you? I don’t even know you-”

“Jun!” 

At the sound of his name, Jun turned around, only to find himself being slammed into the familiar chest of a tall, lanky man. The fragrance of expensive perfume immediately told him who it was - His best friend Minghao. As Jun tried to break free from his friend’s untimely interruption, Minghao held him tight, whispering in his ear. 

“Don’t say a word.” 

“Mr. Xu.” You glanced at the intertwined figures of both men, eyebrows furrowed. “You know this man?” 

“Y/n.” Breaking free, Minghao threw his arm around Jun, flashing a hard smile. “This is Jun, he’s a dear friend. Sorry if he said anything or got out of line - he was just discharged from the hospital after a big accident, he’s a bit disoriented.” 

“Oh.” You looked at him up and down as though it all made sense and you were unable to decide whether to feel sympathetic or stand your ground. “Mr. Jun, I’m sorry you went through all that but whatever you did, that was not appropriate at all.” 

“Y/n what-”

“Yes of course.” Minghao squeezed Jun’s shoulder, shutting him up. “He won’t be troubling you again.” 

“If you really do need a cup of coffee, there are a lot more shops down the street that I’m sure will suit your taste.” You took a step back, reaching for the door again, expression unreadable. “Please don’t come back to me.” 

With that you pushed the door open and disappeared into the cafe allowing Minghao to finally let go of his friend who turned to him, beyond confused. 

“What…. What was that?” He pointed at you, waiting the tables again inside, like nothing happened. Like he didn’t exist. 

“Jun…” Minghao let out a shaky breath, looking carefully at his friend. “Let’s go home, I’ll explain everything.”

“No.” Shaking his head frantically, he reached for the door again. “I’m not going anywhere without Y/n.” 

Moving quickly, Minghao put himself in between, blocking the way. 

“Please.” He held his hand out. “Y/n, she…. she won’t come with you.”

Jun looked at him incredulously. “Why not?” 

“Because she doesn’t remember….” Minghao spoke slowly, watching his friend’s face carefully. “She doesn’t remember you.” 

The throbbing pain was back. 

Actually, it never left. The pain was always there, it was him who had suppressed it under everything else. But with the revelation of things, it became unhinged, freely coursing in his being, hurting everywhere. 

Minghao poured Jun another cup of tea as the two men sat at the dining table, the latter still clutching a photo of you, trying to make sense of all that he was told. 

“She….she doesn’t remember me at all?” He frowned, still confused. “Because of…. you?” 

“Because she doesn’t want to.” Minghao corrected his friend, yet again. “Jun, it was her choice to do the procedure.”

The procedure. 

Minghao had spoken all about it in great detail for the last half an hour. It all went over his head though, Jun didn’t register a single piece of the information thrown at him except one thing - the procedure was to remove memories. 

Yes apparently that was a thing. A new initiative by Minghao’s company - a simple medical procedure in which one could choose to erase their memories of a certain period of time. A process straight out of the sci-fi books - one so ridiculous, Jun would have never believed it if it weren’t coming out of his best friend's mouth. 

That his girlfriend had gotten all her memories of him wiped from her mind. 

“It makes no sense.” Jun shook his head. “Why would she want to forget me? Why would she choose to…”

Minghao looked at his friend staring at your photo sadly. He had always known Jun to be someone full of life - he was ambitious, passionate and always bursting with energy. But now he looked like the whole world had come crashing around him. 

“I’m sorry Jun.” Minghao could feel the guilt eating him on the inside. “All of it happened in my company, right under my nose but I had no idea Y/n had gotten it done till it was all over. Maybe if I had reached the clinic just a little earlier, I could have stopped them from injecting the serum-”

“No Hao, whether you could stop her or not, it won’t change the fact that Y/n wanted to….” Jun swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “She didn’t want to just leave me or walk away from this relationship, she wanted to erase its entire existence from her life. To pretend like it never happened. But why…”

“I wish I knew Jun.” Minghao shook his head softly. “All I know is that this choice mustn't have been easy for her - to forget you she had to have the last 10 years of her life removed. That’s how far she was willing to go to…”

Minghao's words rang in his ears. 

10 years….

Maybe it would have been better if the last ten years didn’t happen at all.

The night of the accident…. that's what he had said. 

Oh god, was that why you….

What had he done? 

“Jun?” Minghao snapped his fingers before his friend's face. “Where are you lost-”

“This was a mistake.” Jun shook his head. “This was all a horrible misunderstanding. I didn’t mean…”

“Mean what?” 

Jun couldn’t even recall why he had said that. It was like his brain was suppressing the stupidity from recurring. 

“I need to talk to her. I need to fix this.”

“How exactly-”

“I’ll marry her, right this instant if that’s what it takes-”

“Jun no-”

“Hao, yes.” He turned to his friend, determined. “I can fix it. I can talk to her and sort this out. Just help me put her memories back again-”

“That’s not-”

“-and I’ll make her see how much I love her-” 

“Jun, that's not possible.” Minghao raised his voice, interrupting his friend’s rant. “Dealing with memories isn’t child’s play. It's one thing to remove them, but to restore them? That’s impossible.”

It felt like everything around was shattering. “You mean she won't ever….”

Minghao shook his head, delivering the final blow. “She won't… ever.” 

Jun stared at the photo in his hand. 

Minghao, who had insisted on staying the night, had hit the shower, his tea sitting cold in its cup. 

Cold draft was blowing in through the open kitchen window. The tips of his fingers were frozen but they were not colder than the thing wrapping around his heart, eating it away.  

Minghao’s last words as he was lingering by the door rang in his ears. 

“Y/n chose to forget you Jun, she chose to restart her life. Maybe it’s best that you do too.” 

Restart his life? Pretend like you didn’t exist and move on? How on Earth was he supposed to do that? 

He glanced at the room around him - at the pictures of you on the walls, at the vase you brought back from your trip to spain, at the coasters you always made sure to use, at the rug you specifically had made to match the couch, at every single thing in his life that was a testament of you. How was he supposed to forget all of it? 

But the truth was, you had forgotten it all. You had walked out of his life, your home and everything the two of you had built together over the last 10 years. None of this around him meant anything to you anymore. 

You had built a new world for yourself, one which Jun had reached, lost in his thoughts. The cafe, the coffee, the customers, the infectious smile on your face, the little bounce in strut, the way your hair fell over your shoulder as you’d turn - you had built something that had no trace of him but more importantly, you looked so happy. Jun couldn’t remember the last time he saw you smile this wide, or even laugh at something stupid. The winter was harsh on the city outside but everything around you seemed so warm. 

Maybe Minghao was right. Maybe it was best that he forgot it all too. 

1st February 2025 

“Where do I put this?” 

Jun turned to Mira who was holding up a bunch of books in her arms. 

“They're all cookbooks, but I'm not sure whether to put it in the box with her law books or in the one with magazines.”

“We can just leave these out.” Taking them from here, Jun walked into the kitchen. “We don't have to put away everything.” 

Sighing Mira followed him. “Jun, boss said everything. Everything that belongs to her, everything that reminds you of her.” 

Jun stared at the books in his hands. Two hours ago, he was sprawled on the couch half asleep, your scarf wrapped around his hand, a frame with your photo in his arms. Much to his annoyance, the consistent ringing of the bell forced him to drag himself to the door and standing on the other side was Mira. 

Jun didn't think he would ever have any reason to see her again but apparently, Mira wasn't just a random hospital staff who helped him - she was in fact Minghao's employee, a psychiatrist who worked in his Memory Wipe project and was asked by him to look after Jun till he came around, as a favour. That day when she left the apartment, she had immediately told Minghao about all that happened - that's how he found his friend declaring he was ready to marry you in front of the coffee shop. Mira though, had no idea about you or that you had your memories wiped - she only found out when Minghao, who left early in the morning for a meeting, sent her over to Jun’s house with a new phone and a contract. A contract to obliterate the last 10 years of his memories. 

“You want me to erase her existence?” Jun furiously muttered into the phone. “How did you even think-” 

“Will you be able to survive with her memories?” Even though he couldn't see his face, Jun knew Minghao was donning a sorry expression. “It'll kill slowly you, Jun. Not being able to be with her, not being able to forget her, not being able to move on. If I had to name something worse than hell, this is it.”

For long after the call ended, Jun stared at the contact papers on the coffee table, his mind disturbed. As much as he didn't want to distance himself from you, could he really live with the fact that you'll never be his again? It had been barely 2 days since he was awake and he was already at the verge of losing his mind. Maybe it was better he too forgot it all. 

But it also pained him to think that if both of you forgot everything, then there was no one who truly knew the kind of pure and unwavering love the two of you shared over the last ten years. At least for the sake of those, he had to stay strong, he had to live with this. But could he really? 

And it was thoughts like this that had him rooted to his chair for over an hour. 

“You don't have to decide now.” Mira interrupted his cycle of thought, tired of watching his unmoving figure. “The procedure is simple. I already have the 10 year formula ready in your name. All you have to do is just come by the centre when you're ready - one injection and it'll be done.” 

As much as Jun was grateful for the time, there was one thing Minghao wanted him to do immediately - clear the apartment of anything and everything that belonged to you. That's what the two of them were in the middle of right now as Mira glanced at the cookbooks in his hands. 

“Jun, whether or not you want to get the Memory Wipe, you need to get rid of all these things. You won't ever move on otherwise-” 

“They're cookbooks.” Jun rolled his eyes, placing them on the shelf of the kitchen. “Has it not occurred to you that I might use these myself?”

Mira stared at him like she didn't believe him but Jun ignored her. There was no way he was going to get rid of every last bit of you. What would be left of him then? 

All your clothes were packed and stashed in the store room, all the pictures of the two of you were taken down, your books, your things, everything was sealed and locked away. Except a few that Jun refused to let go - the lavender cream you used every night, the harmonica you loved to play, the cookbooks you swore would make you a better chef than him. Jun didn't have the heart to walk away from all of it just yet. 

Giving up, Mira began walking away. “I'm going to put her shoes away.” 

“Wait.” Aligning the books hurriedly, Jun quickly ran over to the closet. “Maybe just leave those heels.” 

Mira looked exasperated. “What use could you possibly have of women's footwear?”

Nothing. Jun just loved those black stilettos you wore to work - the sound of them against the wooden flooring was what told him you were home everyday. 

“Jun, this whole thing isn't just about you getting over Y/n. If you plan to do the Memory Wipe, you especially need to do this” Mira stood up sighing. “Imagine losing 10 years of your life and coming home and finding a woman's things all over. You won't remember her, you won't know what happened, you won't have any answers, it'll drive you mad. Please, listen to me, you need to get rid of it all.”

Jun turned away, peeling his eyes from the closet as Mira put the last of your footwear in the boxes, looking at him sadly. 

“How did Minghao even design this procedure?” Jun glanced at the contact papers fluttering on the table. “I knew he was indulging in some biomedical R&D, I had no idea it was this intense.” 

Mira chuckled. “Biomedical R&D barely covers the scope of what he does. Let's just say the Xu enterprises dabble in a lot of things and the Memory Wipe is their latest project. Actually its just undergoing it's last clinical trial - it’s not even advertised or available for the public.” 

“How did Y/n get to know about it then?” Jun frowned like it didn't make sense. “Minghao never talks business with me and I'm sure he's never mentioned it to her either. Then…”

“There were a bunch of lawyers involved in the legal aspects of the clinical trials.” Mira confessed, shrugging. “Maybe she heard from someone in the fraternity.” 

“Funny.” Jun smiled sadly. “Y/n has never been one for office gossip. She just liked to get her work done and head straight back home. It was always about efficiency and not wasting time.”

Mira smiled. “That's an admirable work ethic.” 

“Right? I wish I had that.” Jun glanced out of the window at the snow tumbling out of the sky. “Maybe she wouldn't have had to work so hard if I did.”

“What do you mean?” 

Jun glanced at Mira who had joined him, before continuing to stare out. 

“Y/n always believed in working hard. For her, a job was simply a means to make money. She didn't associate it with dreams or passion, it was just… survival? Me on the other hand, ever since I was a child, all I wanted to do was be an actor. I spent the last, god knows how many years, chasing that dream, picturing myself before the cameras, walking down red carpets. If I look back at my life, all I see are auditions and rejections and more rejections.” 

“It's not wrong to want to live your dream.” 

“No it's not but I don't know how right it is to live with your head in the clouds. Y/n always had her feet on the ground - that was the only reason we survived through it all.” 

“So your story is the ‘opposites attract’ kind?” 

“I guess.” Jun laughed softly. “We were polar opposites actually. She hates talking, I'm always chatting away. She's a mess, I'm neat. She hates doing household chores, I love doing them. Even in food, she loves sweet things, I like them spicy. Our preferences in anything, be it music or movies or where to go or what to wear, they were always so different but I guess….that's what made things fun. Sometimes she'd adjust for me, sometimes me for her, and though things weren't going our way, we were happy because we were making each other happy.” 

“Wow.” Mira let out a breath. “I always thought being in love with someone entirely from me would be difficult to handle.”

“If I'm being honest, there were times it did get difficult.” Jun wiped the condensation off the window with his hand, catching sight of your cafe across the street. “Y/n lived life like it was a checklist. Graduating high school at 18, then law school at 23, first job at 24, marriage at 25, three kids by the time she's 30, retired by 55, starting an organic farm business at 57 and then dying whenever - she had her whole life planned. Me on the other hand, I… live in the moment, go where life takes me. Everything around us is so uncertain, think about the accident”

Jun’s voice shook as fragments of it flashed in his head.

“We could have died, life as we know could have ended, so what's the point in deciding everything so prematurely? I take life by the day, I enjoy every moment - one day I'm doing martial arts classes for kids, one day I'm teaching old women some Chinese dishes, one day I'm doing a modelling contract. End of the day, I still make money to feed myself and pay my bills, I just don't go to bed having the next 10 years of my life planned and somehow….. I think that's what drove us apart. That's why she…” Jun let out a deep breath. “That's why she decided to start afresh. Her practicality and my emotional disposition just… didn't find any middle ground.” 

Mira softly placed her hand on Jun's shoulder, caressing it with her thumb. Clearing his throat, he took a step back, tearing his eyes away from the coffee house. 

“We should probably continue with the packing.” 

Mira nodded as she followed him, the two of them sorting things silently this time. Normally Jun wouldn't ever let go of a chance to talk about you, but now, given he had to speak about you in past tense, Jun couldn't bring himself to talk about you over and over again. Minghao was right, it was all just getting harder and harder.

And so, the next few hours were navigated in mostly silence and occasional questions. By the time the sun had begun to set, the two of them were done - all of your things had been neatly packed and put in the store room, the door locked, keys stashed in Mira's pocket for safe keeping. A couple of things had been piled by the door to be thrown out, Jun's take out dinner had arrived and Mira was lingering by the door, ready to leave. Yet the contract papers were sitting on the table, like an elephant in the room. Unable to hold herself back anymore, Mira sighed. 

“Jun, I know Minghao left the choice to you but as a professional and as someone who cares about you, I think it's best you…. " She gulped. "sign the contract. I've seen some couples after the clinical trials, trust me, you don't want to live this weight-” 

“Mira,” Jun’s voice left him between gritted teeth. “It's been barely 2 days since I got to know about what Y/n did. I haven't even decided if I am to be sad or angry or stay or move on.” He shut his eyes, running his hands through his hair. “The only reason I agreed to keep her things away or allowed someone else to even touch them was because one, I trust Minghao more than anything and two, if I really want to, I know I'm strong enough to break the door of that storeroom and get everything back. But what you're asking of me, is a permanent change. Please just…. Let me think things through at my pace.” 

Mira blinked at him, her hand on the handle of the door, unmoving. 

“Thank you for your help yet again Mira, but I think it's time you go.” 

And before the apology even left her mouth as she stepped out, Jun shut the door behind her, leaning against it.  

He just needed some time. That’s all.

Or at least that's what he thought but in just a few hours, he realised he didn't. 

Yesterday was perhaps bearable because Minghao, although he didn't speak much, was there in the house. Today though, heating up his food all alone, sitting at the table by himself, walking around his house in the dimness of the night lights, staring at the empty walls and empty shelves - it was all too much. Jun couldn't bring himself to go another day like this, forget the rest of his life. 

Taking a deep breath he sat on the couch, pulling the papers towards himself, then pen in his hand shaking. 

He wasn't strong enough for this - he couldn't go on without you. 

Finally making up his mind, he gripped the pen tight and signed the contract. There was no other way. 

But the universe said otherwise. 

If Jun had just turned around and gone to his room, things would've gone down very differently. Maybe if he decided to sleep instead of clearing the dishes and throwing the trash, he would've never thought about clearing all the boxes that Mira left by the door. Maybe then he wouldn't have come across that box. 

At first glance when he opened it, it seemed like odd bits of trash - there were pieces of paper, little trinkets, bills and what not. He was just about to throw it when his eye caught the familiar logo on one of the bills - the Lovers Cavern. The first Michelin star restaurant that Jun had taken you to on a date. Frowning, he ran his fingers through the contents of the box, recognising them one by one. Carnival and movie tickets, the crinkled wrapper of the ice cream he loves, the magnets from your first road trip together, the dried corsage from your first dance together…. everything was a thoughtful piece of the time the two of you spent together. 

You had been carefully saving them over the last 10 years. 

Jun stared at it wordlessly, lost in thought. He had never taken you as one for sentimentality. Hell you didn't even like taking photos or recording videos of your time together, he was always the one who had to pull you in, forcing you to smile. He had always assumed those small moments meant nothing to you but this box told him a different story - you had been treasuring them all these years in your own way. This relationship wasn’t just part of a checklist, you had been emotionally invested in it since the beginning, since 10 years. 

Jun could only imagine how much his words must have hurt you that day…. Clearly enough to make you take such a big step. You didn't walk away because you wanted to. You walked away because of him. His words made you…. it was his fault. 

Walking over to the window, Jun glanced at your cafe, watching as you stepped out with a couple of bags in your hands, turning off the lights and locking the door. As you balanced your things in your hands, waving for a cab, Jun slowly realised….. Minghao was wrong. 

His only options weren't to either live with your memories alone or forget you and move on. There was a third one. One that Jun was about to choose. 

He was going to get you back. He had done it once and he could do it again. 

Jun was going to make you fall in love with him all over again. 

2nd February 2025 

Rubbing the back of your sore neck, you sat down at the benches outside the cafe, enjoying the cold. 

One might think you were stupid for sitting in the snow clad street in just a small dress and an apron but the heat of the coffee was getting unbearable. Sipping on your own coffee, you glanced at the hustle and bustle down the street. Everyone looked so busy, like they were navigating life with a purpose. This coffee shop had always been your purpose, the dream you had been living for almost a month now yet something felt unfulfilled. Something was missing. Before you could figure out what, a voice broke you out of your reverie. 

“Is the same drink, same table offer still going on?” 

Raising your head, you let your eyes find the man who interrupted the few minutes of your me-time.

“Mr. Wen Junhui.” You cleared your throat, letting the annoyance show on your face. “I believe I had asked you not to enter my shop?”

“You did.” Jun nodded, sitting down beside you, a few feet away. “And I did not enter your shop - technically I'm outside.” 

You glared at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Well since you're such an ardent follower of what I say, you shouldn't be sitting with me either because-”

“Because I need to have the same drink as you, right?” Jun cocked his head at you, raising his cup. “And I do.” 

“There's no way.” You chuckled, taking a sip. “I can assure you, you don't.” 

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” Jun took a sip, smiling to himself because he knew he was not wrong. No one knew you better than him. “But I think that's a caramel macchiato with hazelnut cream.”

Lips slightly parted in surprise, you stared at him. 

“M-maybe.” You muttered, taking a sip yourself. “But I still don’t think it’s the exact same-”

“Yeah, it might not be exact.” Jun shrugged nonchalantly. “Not like I’m lactose intolerant or anything but I felt like taking it with oat milk today.” 

The cup nearly slipped from your hand. You were lactose intolerant. You always took your coffee with oat milk. 

Choosing not to tell him that, you simply continued to stare at the busy crowd. Jun let out an inward sigh of relief knowing he had earned the place to sit next to you. 

“Y/n…” Clearing his throat, he corrected himself. Baby steps Jun. “Ms. Y/n I uh actually wanted to apologise about that day.”

You turned to him, eyebrows slightly furrowed. 

“I had actually just gotten out of the hospital that day and I don’t think the anesthesia wore off completely so I was apparently just going around and…. proposing marriage to various women.” 

You raised your eyebrows like you didn’t believe him. 

“It’s true, I spent the whole day today saying sorry to every business owner on this street…. And drinking the same coffee order as them. I think I’m going to have a tough time in the bathroom tomorrow….” 

Scoffing, you turned away from him and if Jun didn’t know you better, he wouldn’t have known you were hiding a tiny smile. 

“Again I’m really Ms. Y/n, I wish that didn’t happen and that we could have a fresh start. I was really looking forward to having coffee here.” 

Letting out a deep resigned breath, you stood up, chugging the last of your drink. Tossing the cup in the bin, you turned to him, clasping your hands before you politely, giving him a small smile. 

“Mr. Wen Junhui, welcome to Lonely Hearts cafe. We’re a small business that opened just a month ago so we’ve got some really good deals on coffee and cake. We even have a Valentine’s day event - you get to share a table with the person who has the same drink as you. I hope we see you around.” 

Returning your smile, Jun got up, giving a small shrug. “That Valentine’s day event is interesting - I would love to… be seen around.” He chuckled, holding his hand out. “It’s nice knowing you Ms. Y/n.” 

Glancing at his outstretched hand, you slowly took it, wrapping your fingers around it. Somehow on the cold winter day, there was a strange warmth radiating between the two of you. 

“It’s nice getting to know you too Mr. Jun.” 

3rd February 2025 

“You know, you don’t look like someone who enjoys coffee.” 

Jun turned at the sound of your voice, finding you right beside the door he just walked in. You had a tray in your hands and an amused smile on your face. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“The face you made yesterday?” You laughed as you walked in, Jun following behind you. “I’ve never seen someone look so disgusted while drinking coffee.” 

Jun suppressed a smile as he leaned against the counter. “Oh so you were watching me.” 

Rolling your eyes, you walked towards the machines. “I happened to see.” 

“The one yesterday was just too sweet.” He shuddered, recalling the taste. “My taste buds were dying.” 

“Well obviously it was sweet, it’s caramel.” You pulled out a piece of cake, putting it on the counter as a waitress walked over, taking it. “Did you expect it to taste like Malatang?” 

Oh Jun would love some Malatang right now. 

“No, but something told me your coffee would taste much better than that one.” 

You chuckled, pulling up a cup. “Is that going to be your order for today?’ 

“Nope.” Jun shook his head. “I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” 

“What I’m having?” You frowned, confused. 

“How else will I be able to share a table with you?” 

Jun could tell you were holding back a smile. “And why would you want to do that?” 

“I thought coffee with a side of conversation would be nice.” 

“I’m working.” 

“I’ll wait.”

“I only get off at 5.” 

“I’ll wait.” 

“And then I need to head straight home.” 

“I just need 10 minutes.” 

You raised your eyebrows like you were trying to figure out what his intentions were. Meanwhile, he looked at you determined, like he’ll wait for a lifetime, if that’s what it took. Sighing you pulled out a piece of cake and set it before him. Then changing your mind, you quickly swapped it for a couple of lemon biscuits and slid it to him. 

“They’re on the house.” 

And with that you tightened your apron and walked away, leaving Jun staring at his favourite biscuits on the counter. 

“Do you need any help?” 

You looked up from the table you were cleaning at Jun who was still here, his coat discarded, cheeks flushed red and eyes tired. 

“I have staff Mr. Jun.”

“She left.” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Told me to inform you.” 

“Huh.” You frowned. “She always stays till I close for the extra ten I hand her every day.” 

Jun remained silent, looking away.

“You paid her.” 

“I was just helping her go home fast.”

Sighing, you straightened yourself, crossing your arms. “Okay what is it, what do you want?” 

“I told you, a conversation.”

“Well that’s what we’re having right?” 

“Right…” Jun cleared his throat, unsure how to frame his sentences while you continued to look at him expectantly. When he didn’t say anything, you rolled your eyes and continued cleaning up. 

“I was thinking…” You held out the tray, making him quickly free his hands to hold it as you began stacking plates and cutlery on it. “You’re a woman.”

“Are you doubting it?” Frowning, you walked over to the trash can, Jun right behind, struggling to balance everything. 

“No! I mean I wasn’t thinking if you were a woman, more like I was thinking since you’re a woman and I’m a man….” 

Jun trailed off completely lost about where he was going with this till you relieved him of the weight in his arms, placing the tray in the sink. 

“Mr. Jun,” You untied your apron, tucking it on the rod of the drawer. “You only have 10 minutes.” 

“Okay okay.” Jun recomposed himself, watching you pack up your things for the night.  Looks like he just had to get straight to the point. “Yes I have 10 minutes right now, but my worry is, we only have 10 days.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It's Valentine's in 10 days….” Jun muttered below his breath trying to gauge your reaction. 

“Are you…” You narrowed your eyes at him unsure. “Is this your way of asking me out?” 

“No god,” Jun groaned, running his hands through his hair. “I swear I planned it so much better in my head-”

“Don’t.” 

And with that one word, you crushed everything. All the hope, the longing, the yearning.  

“Look Mr. Jun, normally I wouldn't go into the details but I don't want you to think I'm blowing you off but about a month ago, I got a Memory Wipe. I lost the last ten years of my life and I’m still trying to come to terms with how much things have changed.... I’m just not ready for any kind of commitment.”

“But….” Jun blinked at you confused. “You smiled…”

“Sorry?” 

“Yesterday and today…. I thought, you might also…” 

“Mr. Jun.” You sighed, donning your jacket, zipping up. “You’re a good looking man, you’re sweet and I can tell you’d be a good conversation but I didn’t mean for it to be more than that. I just assumed it would be some harmless flirting.” 

“I don’t want it to just be harmless flirting.” Jun shook his head. “I want something more. I like you and I want to-” 

“Like me, why?” You looked at him confused, grabbing your bags. “We’ve barely spoken more than 5 sentences to each other.”

We’ve been in love for more than 10 years Y/n. 

“I can’t explain it, it just…. feels right.” 

“Well I can’t function based on your whims and feelings, can I?” 

Jun stood frozen as you turned off the lights and opened the door, stepping out. Grabbing his jacket he followed you, watching you lost in thought as you locked the door before you turned to him. 

“Look, you seem like a nice guy and I’m sure you’ll find someone. It just can’t be me, I’m not in the space for it.” Adjusting the bags in your hands, you shot him an apologetic look.  “I’m sorry Mr. Jun.”

And with that you walked away, your figure moving further and getting smaller as cold winds returned to the city. For some stupid reason, Jun hadn’t anticipated this - he didn’t think about the possibility of you rejecting his advances. He just assumed the two of you would fall into the comfortable pattern of dating each other and everything would slowly return to normal. Your disappearing self was telling him otherwise….

No. 

Jun couldn’t allow this to happen. He couldn’t lose this chance.

“Wait!” Pulling his jacket over his shivering body, he ran to you, half tripping on the way. “Wait, please.” 

And you did, looking at his panting, coughing self standing in your way, trying to catch his breath. Searching your bags, you handed him a bottle of water but Jun ignored it, looking at you questioningly. 

“If whatever happened to you a month ago, didn’t happen, would you agree to go out on a date with a guy like me?” 

“I….” You looked around confused. “I don’t know.” 

“Do you have any other reason not to give us… to give me a shot?” Crossing his fingers, Jun tucked his hands in his pocket. “Any other reason to say no?” 

“Not really, no.” 

Bingo. 

“I’m sure the aftermath of the Memory Wipe hasn't been easy but life won’t stop just because you want things to pause.” Gulping he looked at you expectantly. “Look Y/n I too am in a space where things are difficult where I want to hit rewind, but I realised maybe it’s better to hit restart and I want to try that with you.” 

“Jun I…” 

“Here’s my suggestion, just hear me out.” He clasped his hands, ignoring the cold drafts. “Give me 10 days, just 10 days to change your mind about us. I know I can do it, I know I can make you see I’m worth it, that we’re worth it.” 

“You’re really not going to take no for an answer are you?” 

Jun shook his head, his face falling. “No I…. I don’t want to force you. I was just suggesting-”

“What if I’m not convinced in 10 days?” You sighed, looking at him unsure. “Will you leave the idea of ‘us’ behind and not pursue me anymore?" 

“It won’t come to that-” 

“If it does.” 

“If it does,” Jun took a deep breath. “Then you’ll never see me again. I promise.” 

And with that you went silent, like you were considering it. Jun prayed to all possible forces in the universe - please say yes, please say yes, please say yes. 

“Okay.” You agreed, slowly nodding your head. “You have 10 days. If I’m not convinced, then on the 10th day,  we’re done and we’re never seeing each other again, deal?” 

Smiling on the inside, Jun ignored the little victory lap his head was doing. “Deal.” 

“And you’re sure this will work?” 

Phone against his ear, Jun nodded confidently.

“Positive.”

“What if you’re just setting yourself up for heartbreak again?”

“I’m not.” Jun rolled his eyes. “I know I can get her back. This time I’ll be better-” 

“Haven’t you noticed?” Minghao voice was filled with caution. “She’s somehow not the same. The Y/n you knew was a hard core, cut throat lawyer. This Y/n is a barista who sells coffee and the idea of love.” 

Jun hummed in thought. “Maybe. But deep down, she’s still my Y/n and I’m her Jun. I know her better than anyone else, I can do this-”

“And if you can’t?” 

“Then I’ll live with it. But I can’t let her go without trying.” 

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” 

“I don’t want to consider that possibility.” 

“Jun be realistic. How on Earth do you plan on convincing a woman who thinks you’re a complete stranger, is struggling with her amnesia, and more importantly doesn’t want any commitment, to date you?” 

Jun sank into his couch, staring at the ceiling.  

“I have no idea.” He confessed.

“Exactly, what if things get worse for you-”

“Can you just for once be a tad bit more positive?” Jun sighed. “Look at the bright side of things. Like for example, Y/n knew I didn’t like coffee-”

“-you make the most disgusting face known to mankind when you drink it, anyone would know-”

“-and she knew I like malatang-”

“-you’re Chinese Jun. I think that was a safe guess-”

“-and she knew lemon biscuits were my favourite dessert.” 

This time Minghao went silent. 

“Nothing snarky to say?” 

When Minghao continued to keep quiet, Jun frowned, sitting up. 

“Hao do you think she… remembered?” 

“That’s not possible....” 

"You don't sound as sure as last time." Jun noted.

Minghao let out a deep breath, like he was frustrated. “Theoretically, a memory restoration is not possible but hearing you I.... I can't tell for sure - we're also still not done with the clinical trials so I cannot exactly negate the possibility."

"So,,," Jun's eyes widened. "You're saying there is a chance she might remember everything?"

"A really really small chance.....” Minghao emphasised. "Or it could just be that since Y/n has known you for ten odd years, some her actions are just reflexive - ingrained in her subconscious after years of habit." 

"But you're saying there's a small chance she might remember me again?"

Minghao sighed. Clearly, his friend wanted to just hear one thing.

"Yes. Perhaps if she's repeatedly exposed to you or to something of her past, she might remember certain things again-"

"Enough to make her want to come back to me?"

"I cannot promise that-"

"But I can try." Jun whispered, the cogwheels in his mind turning. "I have to try and Hao, I think I know exactly how."

"How-"

Cutting the call Jun tossed his phone aside and quickly grabbed the box he had stashed below the tea table, opening it. He ran his fingers again through all the memories you had saved, a small smile forming on his face.

Jun had 10 days to win you back - that meant he had 10 chances to remind you of all the good days the two of you shared. 10 memories he could recreate, ones that you yourself had stored in this very box. 10 ways he could prove 'us'..... was truly worth it.

And just like that, Wen Junhui knew exactly how to make you fall in love with him all over again. 

You stared at the photo hanging on your wall, arms crossed, eyes slightly damp.

You look so happy,....he looks so happy. 

Just like he did when you agreed to give him 10 days to woo you. 

Sighing you tore your eyes away and stared at the ground, blinking the tears away. 

“Just 10 days," You whispered, voice shaking. "….. and all of this will be over.” 

A/n - This fic is tbh very long and overwhelming so I thought its best to have it out in parts? I hope you enjoyed this part and stay tuned for the next too! Thoughts in comments and reblogs are very much appreciated my loves <3

[ihavethedreamies]

Thirsty | S.Coups [NSFW] (2)

Choi Seungcheol (S.Coups - Seventeen)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~3.8k

Pairing: S.Coups x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Even Less Plot, Sequel but just Filth

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Doll, Princess, Pumpkin, etc.), Daddy Kink (its required), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Facefucking, Deepthroating, Spanks (two), Car(?) Sex, Table Sex, Hot Tub Sex, Anal, Double-Penetration (Surprise~!) Soft Dom! S.Coups, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!), He's still got some ~fancy~ tattoos ;)

Author's Note: So...I got this request. Anyway, this is a sequel to Oasis, which is S.Coups's part for my Seventeen Sci-Fi series, but you don't really need to read it first since the plot doesn't matter and there is even less plot here.

~Part 1~

-> Series Hub <-

-> Hoshi's <-

-> Woozi's <-

-> Wonwoo's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

“I’m not a piece of candy, doll.” Seungcheol huffs, looking down at you kneeling between his legs. His much fancier rover has enough leg room for him to drive comfortably while you sit on the floor between his legs, sucking his cock like it’s giving you life. You glance up at him with a bored look, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, then descend again. You have to use both hands to cover the rest of his length even when he hits the back of your throat, and you wish you were at a better angle that you could get him down your throat. Alas, you have to just suck what you can and you’re making more noise than him. You’d learned last night that he had the stamina of a work ox, and you’ve been slobbering over his cock for nearly 30 minutes, and he still hadn’t even come close to cumming. You grunt, pulling off with a pop, drool dripping down your chin and his cock.

“Are you using your weird sensory tattoo thing to last so long?”

“No, hon.”

“Am I not good at it?”

“You’re really good, why?”

“You still haven’t cum!” He chuckles lowly at your frustrated whine, one hand leaving the steering wheel to rest on your head, fingers running through your hair.

“You want me to cum that badly?”

“Yes!” He shifts to sit a bit lower in his seat, using the panel to maintain speed rather than the pedals and plants his feet on the ground.

“You gag easily?”

“Nope~” You giggle as he leads you back to his messy cock and you suck him back into your mouth, shifting your own position so you’re at a better angle, already knowing his plan. You grip the edge of the rover seat and his hand in your hair tightens pushing your down further, his cock sliding into your throat. You gag very, very softly, he’s much thicker than anyone else you’ve taken, longer too. You breath harshly through your nose, the rush of air stopped as he sinks deeper and you whimper around his cock, making him groan.

“Oh you really are so good for me, pumpkin~” He huffs, chuckling lowly as your nose presses to his groin, and you swallow over and over to fight gagging, your cunt clenching around nothing. You follow the guiding of his hand in your hair, and he thrusts, starting to fuck your face, making sure not to cut off your air too much, but every time he buries his fat cock down your throat, your cunt spasms, desperate to be filled as well. You whine pathetically, a mixture of saliva and his pre slathered over your face and his thighs and you’re glad you had pulled his pants down earlier instead of just opening them, because they’d be a mess.

“You like how daddy tastes, don’t you?” You hum in the affirmative, your head swimming and you barely register the swirling tattoos on the skin of his legs starting to glow. The swimming in your head goes away, but your other senses dull, the taste of his leaking cock in your mouth sharpening and your cunt feels like it lights on fire. He shoves one of his feet between your legs and you instinctively grind against his boot, the seam of your thin leather leggings perfectly hitting your clit. Your desperate need for air softens and the slight soreness of your throat heats to a numb point as he continues to batter his cock down your gullet.

“Fuck, hold on, just-“ His groan is so deep it rumbles through you and he presses your head down, deep in your throat and he cums. Your hips rolling to help your needy cunt grind against his boot stutter as your orgasm hits you as well, swallowing all of his hot cum eagerly, moaning as you do. Finally, like you’re just pulled out of nearly drowning, he pulls his cock out of your mouth, and you desperately heave for air, your senses returning to normal.

“You’re such a good girl.” He smirks, thumb brushing over your lip and gathering the sticky fluid and you suck it off his digit when he presses it into your mouth.

~

You and Seungcheol stop to eat lunch in a small outpost about an hour outside of the capital. When you get back to the rover afterwards, you both sit for maybe about thirty seconds before he turns the window tint all the way up, blocking view of the interior and hauling you into the back seat. You straddle his lap, moaning as he kisses you, his large hands running down from your waist to your ass, gripping the flesh through your leggings. Your fingers weave into his hair, tilting his head to get a better angle as his tongue slips into your mouth. When you both pull back for air, he scoffs.

“I’m buying you a skirt to wear just so I can get to your cunt easier.” His hands leave your ass, sliding back up and then down again, his hands going into your leggings to reach your bare skin underneath.

“How ‘bout I just don’t wear pants in the rover~?”

“I think that’s just perfect~” His smirk might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. While trying to focus on his next kiss, you lift your leg to get your boot off and then you squeak when he tosses you onto the seat, climbing over you. He helps you get your pants mostly off, the garment still hanging on where it’s tucked into your below-the-knee boot. You hadn’t put on panties before you guys left the hotel since you couldn’t find them, he claimed to know nothing about that- He gets his pants open and shoved down just enough and his strong hands on your inner thighs lead you to spread them further and your back arches, breath hitching as he sinks his cock into your soaking cunt. Your pussy spasms, burning slightly from the sudden stretch and your eyes roll back when he snaps his hips to get the rest of his length inside, his groin meeting yours. He gives you maybe thirty-seconds to get used to him before he’s fucking you so hard the rover lets out a ding, warning of a possible ground disturbance.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-!” Your body jerks as he swiftly brings you to orgasm, his huge cock barreling through it, carving his shape into you over and over, and you know for damn sure your body is going to get addicted to his dick inside of it.

“Oh, you’re sweet little pussy just loves hugging my cock, hm~?” Seungcheol chuckles, grinning like an idiot as he watches your folds struggle around him, a thick sheen of your wet coating his cock, nearly frothing at how hard he’s railing you.

“D-Daddy, you’re gonna break me~!” You practically squeal, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth, eyes watering as he smashes through your second orgasm.

“I sure am, pumpkin~ Daddy’s gonna ruin your body from ever wanting anyone else.” His next chuckle is much lower than before, grunts lacing his words. You can feel his cock pulse harder, and his thrusts get a bit unsteady the closer he gets. You have just enough mental capacity to wrap your legs around his waist, holding him in, needing his hot cum to fill you up.

“Cum with me, doll, cum with me~” His thumb goes to your already slightly stinging clit and with one last battering thrust, he roars out a groan, painting your core white. You’re thrown over the edge as well, nearly screaming out, eyes crossing as your cunt squirts out nearly as much as he’s filling you with.

~

When you leave the treasurer’s office at the Assembly building, he looks up from where he was waiting in the lobby. You’re staring blankly at the holo-chip they had given you with the payment for the huge diamond you had found. They recommended you immediately deposit it at the bank so as not to risk it getting taken.

“(Y/N)?” You stop next to him, still looking at it. You only look up at him when the lifts your head up with his crooked finger under your chin.

“Was it not worth much?”

“T-they just gave me… 200 million credits…” Seungcheol’s eyes widen at that.

“Seriously?”

“T-they said it wasn’t from S.V.T and so…it’s super-super valuable because almost all of the diamonds here are tiny.”

“Are you okay?”

“I…I could by my entire hometown with this and more…”

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yes…”

~

You decide to celebrate by booking the nicest room in the fanciest hotel of the capital…after you deposited the funds. When you brought the holo-chip into the bank, the system immediately noted it as fraudulent despite the official Assembly signature on the chip and the poor teller had to call her manager over, and then he had to call the president of the bank to call the governor to get the right code for the system to allow the deposit. The second thing you did – the hotel was third – was send 500k of it straight to your family. You honestly might have done more, but you didn’t want to overwhelm the little bank in your hometown as well and it was more than enough for them to not just pay off any debts, but your dad could even retire. You always told your mother that your scavenging would pay off, but you had no idea to this level.

“Woah…” You look around in awe as you and Seungcheol enter the suite you booked, the entire building was made with white marble, or it at least appeared that way, and the entire room had gold accents.

“Is it everything you hoped and dreamed?” He huffs a laugh, and you nod, jumping giddily.

“This is so fancy~!” He laughs harder, shaking his head at your excitement, finding it adorable. You then turn to him with a mischievous grin.

“Let’s order then entire room service menu~”

~

And so you did. When all the food arrived, you were actually glad that you did. It was so many different dishes, but because it was fancy food, the portions were…tiny. Just doing what you did blew through 50k credits, but in a lot of way it was worth it. You got to try so many things you’d never had the chance to before, some of it you’d never even heard of and Seungcheol had to explain to you what it all was.

When you’ve both finished all you could, leftovers put in the fridge of the full kitchen of the suite, you both look over all of the plates and platters on the table. You then watch him pull the tablecloth to the end of the table, pulling all the dishes along with it and you squeak when he leads you the edge and bends you over it. You’d barely register what happened before your leggings are shoved down once more and his fat cock is back inside you. At that angle, he manages to get as deep as he could, and the dishes and cutlery clatter as the table shakes as he starts to fuck you silly once again. He leans forward, hands on the table by your head holding him up, his thrusts getting very shallow but just as hard. You gasp with each little movement, the head of his dick rubbing over your weak spot over and over and your orgasm is already rising.

“C-Cheol-!” You nearly squeal out a moan when his hand smacks your right ass cheek, then his fingers grip hard into the flesh.

“What’d you call me?” The low tone of his voice makes your cunt clench around him tighter, your thighs twitching.

“S-Sorry, daddy-“ Your fingers scramble for purchase on the table, your pulse whooshing in your ears and it feels like you’re lower half is on fire. He suddenly pulls out and you cry out in protest, but then he’s kneeling behind you, arms wrapping around your thighs and his tongue is wiggling into your cunt.

“Fuck~!” You giggle, nearly delirious as he eats you out as if he hadn’t just had a full seven-course meal. He swipes his tongue through your folds, then sucks on your clit, drinking from you as you cum, squirting out release all over his face which he eagerly drinks. You barely have caught your breath when he stands and grabs your arms, pulling you off the table and forcing you to your knees in front of him, his hard cock right in front of your face, a mess from his pre and your own release. You don’t even wait for his direction, opening your mouth wide, obediently. He smirks and his fingers weave into your hair and he slides his dick into your mouth, and you eagerly suck on the head, inhaling through your nose right before he starts to get deeper. Your throat is still a bite sore from when he fucked your throat not even 24 hours ago, but you can’t help but moan at the feeling and taste of him in your mouth.

“Swallow it all, just like that~” He groans as he fills your throat with his cock and your fingers dig hard into the carpet under you as he cums down your throat, over and over. As he pulls out, you suck to clean him off, breathing hard once his half-softened length leaves your mouth.

~

“I-Is it safe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Couldn’t it…burn?

“Does it burn your skin?”

“No…”

“Then why would it burn inside?”

You sigh, realizing he was right. For some reason, you were hesitant to get in the hot tub since you knew it would likely lead to more. You’d heard of people having sex in a tub, but this seemed…dangerous. Though, the more you talked to him about it, the less you believed it could cause harm, and the more stupid you felt.

“Just get in (Y/N).” Seungcheol huffs a laugh, and you carefully put your foot into the bubbling heated water and it’s not too hot like you worried, so you get in. You sit on the little bench built into the wall of the hot tub and you watch as he gets in as well.

“I’m glad they were able to get us swimsuits.” You luckily could have the hotel bring you guys swimwear, because you later wanted to use the pool, but you obviously had to do that covered since it was public.

“I understand for the pool, but we’ve definitely seen each other naked… Wait, did you want to wear a swimsuit in here because you worried about burning your pussy?” He grins, trying to fight actual laughter and you blush with a huff.

“Yes, okay!?”

“Why are you over there?” He nods to where you sit diagonal to him.

“Where-“

“My lap, pumpkin.” Oh. You blush in a bit of embarrassment again but get up and he pulls you over to him and down onto his lap, facing him.

“Much better~” You wrap your arms around his neck and his fingers go into your hair and yanks your head back and you whimper as he starts to leave open-mouthed kisses against your throat, and you shudder when he licks a stripe from your collar bone up to under your ear. You can feel his cock already getting hard, only the thin barrier of your swim bottoms separating you two.

“You’re an absolute angel, you know? Taking my cock over and over again, in any way I want.” Seungcheol chuckles when you nod in agreement and his hand leaves your hair, moving to join the other to palm at your ass. He pulls you down so he can grind his growing hard-on against your covered cunt, making you both moan softly. You bring your hands down to the fly of his swim trunks, getting it undone so you can pull his cock out. Lifting your hips, you move the thin strip of fabric of your bikini bottom to the side and start to sink down his length. Despite being in the water, you were no less wet, the thick release clinging to your gummy walls helps you take him inside once again. The angle difference lets the head hit you at a new pleasure point he hadn’t yet found, and he grunts when his cock bottoms out inside of you.

“You’re still so fucking tight.” He hums and you twitch, still trying to get used to him inside, gummy walls fluttering despite taking him so many times.

“Cuz you’re so fucking big.” You huff and he chuckles, letting you get accustomed to his fat cock splitting you in half once again.

“Maybe you’re just small?” His hands on your ass pull you down so he grinds up into you and you gasp, the wind getting knocked out of you at the sudden sharp increase in pleasure. He was so deep, you would swear he was in your stomach-

“AH?!” You nearly scream when he starts to thrust up, the bubbling water sloshing further at the movement and your eyes roll back, nearly going limp. He wraps his arms around you better so you don’t splash back into the water, not slowing his thrusts, rearranging your insides and you can’t get enough.

“F-fuck, daddy~!” You squeal, your entire body twitching as he fucks you through your first orgasm of the session. His hand goes back to your hair, weaving into the stands and twisting the lock around his fist, pulling your head back to expose your throat for him again. He seals his lips around your throat, sucking hard, the slight pressure on your windpipe makes your head swim and cunt clench. He groans, the noise rumbling straight to your head from where he’s attached to you, working the skin to leave a big hickey right where you couldn’t hide it. You gasp when he suddenly lifts you off of him and before you can protest, he bends you over the side of the hot tub. You whimper when he ruts his hot, messy cock between your ass-cheeks.

“You ever been fucked here, pumpkin?” He spreads your cheeks, his cock rubbing directly over your pucker.

“O-Once, b-but I’m not prepared-“

“Don’t worry, daddy’ll take care of you~” Seungcheol pulls back just enough for the head of his dick to press against your rim and you immediately tense. You feel his cyber-tattoos flare to life and your lower half gets hot, especially right where his cock is bumping.

“Breathe in, princess.” He prompts and you do, forcing yourself to control your breathing as the head of his cock starts to press in. The searing burn is not accompanied by the pain you anticipated, the tattoos working perfectly, dulling your nerves and only leaving you with pleasure. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that his dick is fucking into your ass, and your body forces all of your air out in slight shock.

“Breathe…” He coaches and you try and relax, your cunt spasming around nothing, your slick and his pre coating his cock allowing and easier glide. When he bottoms out, he lets you catch your breath, groaning at the intense vice, even tighter than your cunt. After about a minute, he pulls back, the obscene squelching noise is nearly drowned out by the rolling water of the hot tub and your fingers white-knuckle the edge of the tub, trying to level your breathing. Seungcheol snaps his hips and your cunt spasms, your brain still trying to register the intense sensation of him in your back hole.

“Ready?”

“Y-Yes, just-“

“I won’t go too hard, pumpkin.” He assures, then his fingers are weaving back into your hair, holding your front half down as he starts. Soon, he picks up the pace and you swear loudly, cheek pressed to the edge of the hot tub, drool pooling from the corner of your mouth as he fucks your ass, rubbing your weak spot through your inner wall. It’s intense, but feels so good that your brain can’t register what’s really even happening.

“W-Wha-?!” You let out a choking noise when your wind is knocked out of you again, what feels like a second hot dick starting to spread your cunt open. It’s different though, and you can tell its his tattoos somehow. You can’t see it, but a red holographic copy of his dick forms inside your cunt, immediately spurring you into an orgasm, slick spurting out of your cunt and he chuckles lowly. The second dick he’s spawned fucks into you at the same time as his actual cock and all thoughts fizzle out of your head. Seungcheol looks down at you, face red, eyes hazy, you’re completely fucked out, squeaking with each thrust.

“You’re so good for daddy, princess-“ He gasps out, then huffs a laugh as your walls spasming as you cum again, the praise somehow cutting through the fog in your mind and hitting you right in the core.

“I’m gonna cum in your ass, doll, and you’re gonna take it good, yeah~?” You moan out something positive sounding and you nearly black out when he buries in deep and cums. Your insides catch on fire, despite only having the holo-dick in your cunt, it feels like he’s filling you up there too. You’re fading as he pulls out, barely registering him lifting you up into his arms before you fall asleep.

~

You don’t wake until morning, sleeping nearly thirteen hours after the marathon sex-day you had with Seungcheol. You blink, trying to register where you are and then remember you booked such a fancy hotel room. You’re laying on your stomach, probably a good thing since your ass is so sore, and you turn your head to face the other way. Seungcheol is still asleep, the covers resting against his stomach, showing off his bare chest. Your eyes travel down a bit lower, grinning when you see the tent in the comforter. While your cunt is far too sore to take him again so soon, your mouth sure isn’t. With a soft groan at your sore muscles, you wiggle under the covers and between his legs. You can feel the weight of the comforter on your head as you wrap your hands around his cock, and it quickly gets to full hardness. He groans softly but you don’t bother to worry if you woke him or not, sealing your mouth around the head, tongue swirling, then you descend. Humming at his taste, you can even taste the faint bitterness from the soap he most likely used in the shower. As you bob your head, you don’t even startle when you feel the comforted lifted, the slightly cooler air of the room hitting you as he removes it, looking down at you amused.

“I thought I told you before, I’m not a piece of candy~”

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

Seventeen Master List

Taglist: @gaslysainz

[libraford]

Okay!

So plastics! I took a deep dive into recycling HDPE plastics this winter because my seasonal job at the parks ended and because I knew there wasn't going to be much that I could do while I was recovering from surgery.

I'm going to talk about the process a little bit. Its not really a tutorial so much as it is just showing you the thing. The steps are uncomplicated, but they can be time consuming and there are MANY, with a high rate of failure. The good thing about the failure rate is that if you screw something up you can just melt it back down and try again.

I have been jokingly calling the processed material Amirite because once you melt it down enough times it looks like an agate. I made a separate blog about it: @adventures-in-amirite

But this process actually starts WAY back in June. As a parks person, one of our main annoyances is the amount of bottles (water, gatorade, powerade, PRIME, BodyArmor... whatever the Big American Energy Drink is right now) that get left overnight on weekends from people playing sports in our fields. 178 trash public trash cans in the city and they just leave them on the fucking ground.

When something unavoidable annoys me, I make it into a game. I learned that bottle caps are made from HDPE and LDPE plastics, which can be melted over and over again with household heating implements. So I started collecting them!

And I collected well over 300 caps over the summer. When I say it was a PROBLEM.

My seasonal job ended, which freed up a lot of time for me to experiment.

First thing I had to do was clean them.

Soak it in a mix of white vinegar and water or soap and water. Rinse, use a pressure setting on your faucet if you have one. Then let dry.

The next step is to sort all the caps into similar colors. After they're sorted, I melt all the similar colors together into a flat sheet using a panini press and parchment paper. My goal is to get the material thin enough to put it through a guitar pick punch. I like the shape of guitar picks.

I am doing it this way because this means that I can have usable thin blanks of pure color.

Any scraps smaller than the guitar pick are cut up and sorted by color into 'frit,' which is a word I'm stealing from glassworking.

Now here is where it gets fun.

I pick some colors I want to work with in both frit and guitar pick blanks and I throw them on the press to melt them together into a big multicolored slab.

Let it cool.

Here's the high failure rate part.

I put down a silicone mold. I put the colored slab on top. I put parchment paper on top. I put it in the press. I let it melt.

I try to flatten it as much as possible to fit the mold. Use a bottle, a rolling pin, a spatula.

I still get bubbles and voids when I demold. I've decided to embrace that and use rub n buff to make fill the voids with metallic colors. Still working through the kinks in the process, but I think these look cool enough.

All the scraps go back into the bin to be re-processed. It makes a kind of agate texture that's really cool, and that's what I used in that last photo.

Anyways! Applications are limited but I'm having fun experimenting with it. Hoping to approach some shops about it and sell a few, maybe do some shows this summer.

Anyways, that's how my post-op has been going.

[lifeisbutadream444]

Playing Games - Part 2

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Summary: After finally committing to a monogamous relationship, distance, fame, and the ever-watchful public eye put cracks in the foundation of what was once unshakable trust.

Warnings: toxic af, smut, angst

Aaron is in New York. You are in L.A. And for the first time since taking the leap into a monogamous relationship, you’re waking up alone.

You tell yourself it’s fine. That this is normal. That this is what happens when you date someone just as deep in the industry as you are. There will be press tours, there will be events, there will be distance. You both knew that. You both prepared for it.

But that doesn’t make it any easier.

Especially when your phone screen is flooded with images of him with her.

The first time you see it, you’re on set, tucked into your trailer between scenes. It’s innocent enough at first—a random post on Twitter with a grainy shot from a gala, Aaron seated next to her. You scroll down, trying not to care, but then the clearer pictures appear.

She’s whispering in his ear. He’s laughing. Their heads are close together, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Then, worse—posed photos. Beautiful, perfectly lit shots of them standing together, her hand resting lightly on his chest, his arm grazing her back. And then the Instagram post:

A night well spent with the one and only @AaronPierreOfficial. More to come.

More to come!?

Your stomach twists as you stare at the post, your thumb hovering over the screen. Your first instinct is to check his account—to see if he’s posted her too, to see if there’s anything, any indication that this is just PR, just networking, just a fucking coincidence.

Instead, you see something worse.

They’re following each other now.

You lock your phone and throw it across the trailer like if it burned you.

——————

For the next few days, you do everything in your power to ignore it. You tell yourself not to be that girl, the insecure one who starts a fight over social media when you know—deep down—you have nothing to worry about. Aaron has been nothing but perfect during his time in New York. Loyal. Devoted. He calls you when he can, always with a tired but eager voice, always telling you how much he misses you. He’s never out longer than he needs to be, only focused on work.

But he doesn’t mention her.

And then, a few nights later, it happens again.

Another event. Another flood of pictures. Another Instagram post—this time a carousel of professionally shot photos of them at a fashion show, laughing, posing, her head tilted toward him in a way that makes your blood boil.

This time, you don’t ignore it.

You see the post as you’re lying in bed, your script abandoned on your nightstand. The moment your eyes land on the images, your entire body stiffens.

Your phone is in your hands before you can talk yourself out of it, fingers already dialing before your pride can stop you.

Aaron picks up on the third ring, his voice warm but tired. “Hey, sweetheart.”

There’s a pause. A deep inhale.

Then—flatly, coldly—“So you and that bitch are a thing now? Thanks for letting me know.”

Aaron sighs. Actually sighs. Like this conversation was inconvenient.

“Oh, come on, babe, not you too.”

The sheer casualness of his voice makes your irritation flare. “Not me too? Are you fucking serious? I’ve been sitting here trying to be the perfect, understanding girlfriend while the internet is convinced you’re already replacing me!”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” Your voice wavers, and you hate it. “Do you have any idea what that’s like, Aaron? Watching someone else with their hands all over you while I have to sit here in silence, pretending it doesn’t bother me?”

Aaron exhales sharply. “You’re acting like I have control over this.”

“You do! You don’t have to pose with her, you don’t have to entertain whatever the fuck she’s trying to do. And you sure as hell don’t have to follow her on Instagram to give her even more validation. Why are you trying to stay in touch with her?”

There’s a pause. Then, voice lower—“I followed her back because I didn’t want to make things awkward at the event. That’s all.”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, well, as long as she’s comfortable, who gives a fuck about me, right?”

Aaron groans. “Come on, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what, Aaron? Have feelings? Be pissed that my boyfriend is being treated like some eligible bachelor while I have to sit here and keep my mouth shut?”

Aaron exhales sharply, the frustration clear in his voice. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

You let out a bitter laugh, gripping your phone tighter. “Oh, you can’t believe it? Try sitting on my end, watching the whole world act like you’re single while I have to pretend none of it matters.”

“Pretending I’m single? You know that’s not true.”

“Then why does it look like it?” The words come out sharper than you intended, but you don’t care. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me? Seeing you all over the internet with her—”

“Oh my God, we were just talking.” His voice rises, defensive, impatient. “Do you seriously think I’m fucking other women when I spend every minute of my free time with you?”

You hesitate, your chest tightening. “No.” Your voice is quieter now, but the anger hasn’t left. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, Aaron. That doesn’t mean it’s not messing with my head.”

He lets out a humorless chuckle, and something about it makes your stomach drop. “You know, for someone who’s always saying she trusts me, you’re really fucking bad at showing it.”

Your pulse spikes, and before you can think, you snap, “And for someone who claims to love me, you’re really bad at acting like it.”

Silence. Thick, heavy, suffocating.

You can hear his breathing through the phone, hear the way he’s trying to rein himself in. But you don’t take it back.

Finally, his voice comes, low and tight. “I don’t have time for this.”

Your heart clenches, but you force yourself to match his tone. “Yeah, but you probably have time to fuck other bitches.”

And then, just like that before you can finish your sentence, he hangs up.

You stare at your phone, your pulse ringing in your ears, your chest aching in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

For the first time since choosing him, you wonder if you made a mistake as you cry yourself to sleep.

———

You should stop looking. You know you should.

But the moment you wake up, the ache in your chest still fresh, you reach for your phone out of habit. And there it is. Everywhere.

A new interview with her.

The headline alone makes your stomach twist:

“Pop Star Dodges Question About Rumored Romance with Aaron Pierre – ‘We’ll See’”

Your heart pounds as you press play, the video loading instantly. She’s sitting on a talk show couch, all smiles, dressed in something sleek and effortless. The host leans in, grinning.

“So, I have to ask—you and Aaron Pierre. The internet is obsessed. Is there anything going on there?”

She laughs, tilting her head. “Aaron is such a gentleman.”

Your stomach churns.

The host pushes. “So, is he your man or what?”

She smirks. “I mean… we’ll see.”

Your blood runs cold.

We’ll see?!

Not a denial. Not a correction. Not even a casual “Oh, we’re just friends.” Just enough mystery to keep the speculation going, to keep the headlines spinning.

You lock your phone, your hands shaking.

But it’s not over. Because not even an hour later, another clip starts circulating.

This time, it’s Aaron.

A red carpet interview, all flashing lights and polished charm. The reporter brings her up, because of course they do.

“So, you and Sophia Saturn, is there any possibility for a romance”

Aaron huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. “Ah, man.”

Your chest tightens as the reporter pushes, eyes gleaming. “Come on, give us something. The people want to know.”

Aaron shifts, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we’re not together,”

Your shoulders sag slightly. Okay. That’s… good. That’s—

Then he shrugs, smiling a little. “But she’s cool, man. I’ve got a lot of respect for her.”

That’s it. That’s all he says.

Not a strong denial. Not a “No, I have a girlfriend.” Just vague enough to let the rumors keep going.

The interviewer grins. “So you’re saying there’s a chance?”

Aaron laughs. And you feel like you might actually throw up.

———

You don’t hear from him that night.

Or the next day.

You don’t text. You don’t call. You refuse to be the one to reach out first.

But the silence kills you.

You cry yourself to sleep again, torn between heartbreak and fury. Between wanting to believe in him and wondering if you’ve been an idiot this entire time. You feel like one.

———

The following night, you wake up to the sound of knocking.

At first, you think you’re dreaming, the dull thud thud thud blending with the haze of your half-conscious mind. But then it comes again, louder, more insistent.

Your heart lurches.

You stumble out of bed, barely processing, your body moving on instinct. You open the door—

And there he is.

Standing on your doorstep, hoodie pulled over his head, bags under his eyes, looking tired as fuck.

Your breath catches. “What are you—”

Then, voice low, hoarse, like he hasn’t slept, he murmurs, “I came back early.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Congratulations.”

Aaron sighs, running a hand down his face. “I needed to see you.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening. “Funny. You didn’t seem to need me when you were laughing about your maybe relationship with another woman on a red carpet.”

His brows furrow, jaw flexing. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh, really?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Because it looked like that.”

Aaron steps forward, voice more urgent now. “Baby—”

“Don’t call me that,” you bite out, your voice breaking slightly. “You don’t get to come here in the middle of the night and act like a few apologies will fix this.”

Aaron exhales harshly, raking a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the tension in his shoulders. “I fucked up, alright? I know that. But you’re blowing this out of proportion.”

Your head jerks back, something inside you snapping. “Out of proportion?” You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, rage searing through your veins. “You let the entire world think you were single, Aaron. You let her feed into it. You sat there laughing, smiling, making me look like a fucking idiot while you act thirsty as fuck over this bitch. And I’m blowing it out of proportion?”

Aaron clenches his jaw, shifting on his feet, but he doesn’t argue.

You take another step back, shaking your head. “You don’t even know how to be in a real relationship.”

His eyes darken, something unreadable flickering across his face. “That’s not fair.”

“Am I wrong?” Your voice wavers, but your anger doesn’t falter. “You’ve spent years doing whatever you wanted, being with whoever you wanted, never once worrying about how it affected someone else. That’s who you are, Aaron. You don’t think about anyone but yourself.”

His entire body tenses, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “That’s not true.”

You scoff. “No? Then tell me—when did you think about me these past few days? Was it when you let some other woman act like she had a claim on you? Was it when you barely denied it? Or was it when you ignored me for two fucking days because you were too pissed to face what you did?”

Aaron’s nostrils flare, his frustration boiling over. “I didn’t ignore you because I didn’t care—I ignored you because I do! I knew if I called, we’d fight, and I’d say some stupid shit, and I—” He cuts himself off, exhaling harshly. “I knew I fucked up, okay? But I didn’t know how to fix it. And I needed time to think.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh bubbling up. “Right. Because you needed time. And meanwhile, I got to sit here, spiraling, watching everyone talk about how you have a new girl, feeling fucking delusional for thinking I ever had you in the first place.”

Aaron flinches. His lips press into a thin line, his gaze flicking to the floor.

You step forward now, your fury rising like a tidal wave. “You don’t know how to consider someone else’s feelings before your own. I should’ve known better. I should’ve fucking known that I was just another woman you’d make feel special until it got inconvenient.”

His head snaps up, his eyes burning into yours. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?” Your voice cracks. “Because right now, it just feels like I’m another woman who thought she could change you.”

Aaron’s face hardens, his jaw ticking, but he doesn’t speak.

Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not when he still can’t say what you need to hear.

You inhale shakily, taking another step back. “Just leave me alone, Aaron. You apparently don't have a problem with that.”

You reach for the door, pulling it open, your voice barely above a whisper. “Go home, please”

But he doesn’t move.

He stands there, staring at you, chest rising and falling unevenly, his jaw tight. His entire body radiates tension—like he’s forcing himself to stay still when every part of him is screaming to do the opposite.

“No,” he says, voice rough, unwavering.

You blink, anger flaring. “Aaron—”

“I’m not leaving.” His tone is low but firm, his blue-grey eyes dark with determination. “I’m not letting you push me away like this. Not after everything.”

Frustration bubbles in your chest, but there’s something else too—something warmer, deeper, something that makes your stomach clench. Because this is who he is. Stubborn, relentless, unwilling to let things break without fighting first. And even now, when you’re furious with him, when your heart is still aching, you can’t pretend that doesn’t mean something.

“Aaron,” you start again, voice shaking, “I told you, I don’t even want to see you right now.”

His gaze softens slightly, but the determination never wavers. “Then don’t look at me. Just listen.”

You exhale sharply, gripping the edge of the door, fingers digging into the wood. “I’ve been listening to you for days, Aaron. Listening to you not deny her hard enough, listening to you brush everything off like it’s not a big deal, listening to nothing from you when I needed to hear from you the most.”

His expression tightens, like every word is a punch to the gut. “I know I handled it wrong. I know I should’ve done more, said more, made it clearer—”

“Then why didn’t you?” The words burst out of you, raw and desperate. “Why didn’t you just say what you needed to say when it mattered?”

Aaron steps closer, closing the space between you, his presence overwhelming. “Because I’ve never done this before,” he admits, his voice quieter now, rough with something vulnerable. “I’ve never had to think about how my actions affect someone else. Never had to protect something real like this.” He exhales, eyes searching yours. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Your breath hitches.

Aaron shakes his head, jaw clenching. “I don’t know how to be perfect in this, but I do know I love you. I know I can’t fucking breathe knowing you’re sitting here thinking I don’t care, thinking I’d risk losing you for a goddamn headline.” His fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you. “And I know I’m not leaving until you believe me.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them away, your walls still up, still guarded.

“I came back early for a reason. I came straight here for a reason. Because if I wanted to take the easy way out, I would’ve. But I’m standing here because I don’t want easy. I want you.”

You swallow hard, your breath uneven. “I don’t know if that’s enough, Aaron.”

His jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists. “Then tell me what is enough. Tell me what I have to do, and I’ll fucking do it. I don’t care what it takes, I don’t care how long it takes. If you need me to shout it from the rooftops, I will. If you need me to cut off every single woman in my life, consider it done. Just tell me what you need.”

Your throat tightens, because this is what you wanted, isn’t it? For him to fight for you. To prove that this is different. That he’s different.

And God, you believe him.

But you’re still hurting.

You look away, exhaling shakily. “I think I just need some space.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his voice dropping to that low, rich tone that always turns your brain to static.

Your pulse stutters. “Aaron—”

“You want space?” His fingers graze your hip, just barely, the contact so light it makes you shiver. “Then why haven’t you stepped away?”

You should. You should push him off, make him suffer, make him work for the privilege of touching you.

But you don’t move.

Aaron smirks, like he knows, like he’s already won. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, lips hovering just above your ear. "You missed me," he whispers, his voice so deep and smooth it nearly undoes you. His nose skims along your jaw, slow, teasing. "Just admit it, sweetheart. You missed me, so now you’re acting out."

Your breath hitches. "I—"

But then his hands are on you—gripping your waist, tugging you against him, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Whatever argument you were about to make dissolves into a shaky exhale.

Aaron hums, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "That’s what I thought."

You want to fight him, want to hold onto the anger that still simmers inside you. But then his lips find your neck—slow, deliberate—his hands sliding down to grab your ass.

"I can make you forget all of this," he murmurs, voice thick with promise. Then, his grip tightens, his breath hot against your ear. "You can be as mad as you want, baby," he rasps, his voice low, rough with hunger. "You can hate me, curse me, swear you’re done—but we both know you’ll still end up right here."

His fingers dig into your hips, owning you. "Because no one makes you feel the way I do. No one ever will."

Your stomach clenches, heat pooling low in your body. “Aaron…”

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing his way down to your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips tighter, grounding you. “Let me make it up to you, baby.”

And then he lifts you effortlessly, his soft, thick lips crashing onto yours, stealing every last bit of resistance you thought you had.

You should make him earn you, make him wonder—just for once—if you’ll ever let him have you again.

But as he presses you against the door, his tongue sliding against yours, his body solid and hot against you—you don’t want to.

You’ve always been powerless against him. And he knows it.

He groans into the kiss, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your thigh tightly as he holds you pinned against the door. He pours all his regret, all his love, into the heated caress of his lips and tongue against yours.

“Mmm, you taste even better than I remembered, he murmurs huskily as he breaks the kiss, trailing his lips along your jaw and down the column of your throat. “I missed you so fucking much, baby. Missed this. Missed you.”

He nips at your pulse point, soothing the sting with his tongue before suckling hard, intent on leaving his mark on your skin. His hips grind against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

“Tell me you missed me too, sweetheart. Tell me you forgive me.”

You whimper and arch into his touch, your hands fist in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. “I... I did miss you. So much.”

He captures your mouth in another searing kiss, “Fuck, baby, I needed to hear that. Needed to feel you.”

His hands roam your curves greedily, mapping out every dip and swell he's missed so desperately.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. So fucking sorry for hurting you, for making you doubt me. You're the only one I want, the only one I need.”

He starts walking you backwards towards the bedroom, never breaking the kiss, his body hard and insistent against yours.

Breathless and dizzy with need, you let him guide you, stumbling into your bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed, covering your body with his own, pinning you with his weight. He gazes down at you with dark, hungry eyes, a wicked smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

He slowly puts his hand down your silk pajama shorts, your slick heat coating his fingers as he teases your sensitive bud, groaning approvingly. “Damn, baby. You're fucking dripping for me already.”

He circles your clit slowly, deliberately, reveling in the needy whimpers spilling from your lips. “Was my greedy girl imagining me touching someone else? Wondering if I’d touch her like I touch you, make her beg the way you beg?”

Aaron hums, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your throat. "You know better, sweetheart. No one else ever comes close. Even when you try to push me away."

Aaron's fingers continue their maddeningly slow circles around your clit, stoking the fire building low in your belly. He chuckles darkly at your needy whimpers, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

"No, baby girl. You're the only one who gets to experience this," he purrs, punctuating his words with a particularly firm press against your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

"The only one who gets to scream my name in ecstasy." His other hand slides down to grip your hip, holding you in place as he sinks two long fingers knuckle-deep inside your dripping heat, pumping them steadily.

"Aaron!" you gasp, hips bucking involuntarily into his touch. He just smirks, knowing exactly what he's doing to you.

"That's it, sweetheart. Let me hear you." He purrs as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that special spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids.

"Please, I need…I need…" you babble incoherently, too far gone to form proper sentences. All you can focus on is the exquisite torture of your fingers and the overwhelming ache between your thighs.

Aaron groans at the desperate, needy sounds falling from your lips, his own arousal skyrocketing at the evidence of your desire. He loves reducing you to this state - pliant, wanton, completely at his mercy.

"What do you need, baby? Tell me," he coaxes, voice a low, seductive rasp. His fingers never cease their torturous movements,. He returns to circling and pressing and rubbing your clit until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Aaron dips his head to capture one pebbled nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as he laves the sensitive bud with his tongue. His teeth graze the tender flesh, sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

"I've got you, sweetheart. Gonna give you everything you need," he promises darkly, releasing your nipple with a wet pop.

"Please Aaron, I can't take it anymore. I need you inside me." You're practically sobbing with need, too far gone to care how desperate you sound. All you can think about is having him buried deep inside you, claiming you, owning you in the most primal way possible.

Aaron's eyes darken with primal hunger at your desperate pleas, a feral grin spreading across his face. He finally removes his clothes, settling between your trembling thighs.

"Such a perfect little slut." he groans, voice rough with barely restrained desire.

With a powerful thrust of his hips, Aaron sheathes himself fully inside you, stretching you deliciously around his thick length. He hilts inside you, grinding his pelvis against your sensitive clit.

"Ahhh, shit! So fucking tight," he grits out, fighting the urge to move.

You moan loudly, your walls clenching greedily around his thickness. "Yes, yes, please! Fuck me hard!" Lost in a haze of lust, you wrap your legs tightly around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back to urge him deeper.

Aaron sets a punishing pace, hips snapping against yours with bruising force as he pounds into your welcoming heat. The obscene slap of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with your wanton moans and his guttural grunts of pleasure.

"Yes, fuck! Take it, baby." he snarls, angling his hips to hit that special spot inside you with each deep thrust. Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your entire body.

"This pussy belongs to me, understand? No one else gets to have you like this." One large hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as he rails you relentlessly. The other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. Aaron latches onto the sensitive skin, sucking a vivid hickey into the flesh - marking you as his.

"Yes, all yours! Only yours, always!" You babble deliriously, too consumed by sensation to filter your words. You can feel your release barreling towards you like a freight train, your inner walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock.

"Please Aaron, I'm so close! Don't stop!" You keen desperately, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust.

Aaron feels your walls starting to quiver and squeeze around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm. He wraps his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to heighten your pleasure while still allowing you to breathe.

"That's it, baby. Come for me." he commands huskily, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. 

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your desperate cries as he drives into you with renewed vigor. The hand on your hip slides around to rub tight circles on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"I've got you, sweetheart. Let go for me,." Aaron murmurs against your lips, his own release coiling tighter in his gut.

With a keening cry, your body convulses in ecstasy as the most intense orgasm of your life crashes over you. Your vision whites out momentarily, waves of pure bliss radiating from your core. Your walls clamp down on Aaron's cock like a vice, rippling and squeezing as you come undone.

"AAARON!!" you wail, not caring who hears your rapture. In this moment, nothing exists except the feeling of him moving inside you, prolonging your high. Tears of relief and overwhelming emotion leak from the corners of your eyes.

Aaron groans long and low as your velvet walls spasm around his cock, milking him expertly. The feeling of you coming apart beneath him, crying out his name so beautifully, proves to be his undoing.

"Shit, I'm gonna... Ahh, fuck!" His words dissolve into a guttural moan as his orgasm slams into him like a tidal wave.Aaron buries himself as deep as physically possible, grinding against your cervix as he empties himself inside you. Thick ropes of his hot seed paint your insides, marking you as his from the inside out.

He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. Panting heavily, he peppers your face with soft kisses - your forehead, your cheeks, the corners of your mouth. "God, I love you."

Aaron rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you're draped across his sweat-slicked chest. He cards his fingers through your hair soothingly as you both catch your breath, basking in the afterglow.

"That was... incredible," he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "You're amazing, you know that?" His hand traces idle patterns on your back, occasionally dipping lower to squeeze the curve of your ass possessively. Even in the aftermath, he seems reluctant to let you go.

You nuzzle into his chest, relishing the strong arms wrapped around you and the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. A contented sigh escapes your lips as you savor the feeling of his skin against yours after being apart for so long.

"I love you too," you murmur softly, placing a feather-light kiss over his heart.

The air in the room is thick, warm, humming with the remnants of everything he just did to you—everything you let him do despite your best intentions to stay angry.

You groan softly, tilting your head against the pillow as his lips trail up to your neck, slow and teasing. “You’re annoying as fuck.”

Aaron chuckles, low and satisfied, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your bare skin. “Mmm, is that what we’re calling it now?”

You roll your eyes, still dazed, still trying to regain some semblance of composure after the way he wrecked you. “You think this fixes everything?”

He hums, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “No. But it definitely helped, didn’t it?”

You exhale sharply, biting your lip to keep from smiling. He knows it did. But you refuse to let him get away with everything so easily.

After a pause, you shift slightly beneath him, your fingers trailing up his spine as you murmur, “I’m starting to think you like making me jealous on purpose.”

Aaron chuckles, his thumb tracing a slow, lazy line along your hip. “I like reminding you that no matter how mad you get…” He leans in, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You’re still mine.”

A sharp shudder runs through you, your body betraying you as you press into him without thinking.

Aaron hums, satisfied. “See?” His breath is warm against your skin, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips brushing over your bare waist. “All that anger, all that fire—burning just for me.”

You hate how easily he unravels you, how he can read every little reaction like he wrote the script for you.

Your breath is unsteady, your nails digging into his chest. “You’re insufferable.”

Aaron grins. “And yet,” he whispers, lazily pressing a kiss to your jaw, “here you are.”

You should stop this. Make him beg for forgiveness. Make him pay for how easily he plays you.

But then his teeth scrape along your pulse point, his hands sliding up your ribs, his body pressing even closer—

And just like every time before—

You lose.

[sc0tters]

Comforts and Kisses | Will Smith & Macklin Celebrini

summary: when the sharks lose another game there is only one person Macklin and Will want to see, you.

request: yes/no

warnings: throuple, minor to minimal swearing

word count: 1.09k

authors note: hello loves! this is our first attempt at a throuple that had nothing to do with a threesome and I have to say that I actually really enjoyed this little piece, so if you saw my post I am tempted to turn this into a drabble series so let me know if it is something you guys want because it would be driven by what you guys want to see. this is apart of the one shot wonder event which still has space for requests if you are interested!

The boys were feeling rough after the loss. 

You already knew they were coming straight to yours after the game after you couldn’t make it, needing to get course work done. They always felt like they didn’t do as well when you weren’t in the crowd. Nevertheless, they understood that your studies took priority “baby?” Macklin called out as he opened the door to your apartment “living room!” You got up, not entirely sure where your boys wanted to go. Sometimes they’d arrive, desperate for a shower, sometimes it was dinner, and other times it was just wanting to hold you. 

Their footsteps were heavy against your floorboards “shouldn’t have left your door unlocked.” Will clicked his tongue, seeing you in one of his hoodies “didn’t know if you guys had your keys.” You explained that Macklin was notorious for forgetting his key at yours. 

But whatever potential argument was about to start, was cut off when you saw how the younger boy’s cheeks were tear-stained “sweet boy.” You sighed, opening your arms for Macklin to walk straight into them. 

He instantly melted into your touch “we played like shit today.” His words made you frown when your fingers ran through his hair “you tried.” You shook your head “you both did.” Will didn’t often need to be comforted by you but that didn’t mean that he didn’t like to be acknowledged. 

Your way with words often made Macklin feel better “yeah maybe you should tell your dad about that.” Your dad was the coach of the team so Will sometimes took his anger out on you “yeah I’ll make sure to bring it up during family dinner and I’ll even tell him that I’m fucking two of his players.” You scoffed, hating how the blonde would let his feelings about your dad choose how he reacted to you sometimes. 

Will felt his lips push into a thin line “please don’t fight.” Macklin pleaded, running his fingers along you the waistband of your shoulders “not tonight.” His words were soft while he kissed your collarbone. 

You both felt bad looking at the younger boy “you’re right.” You ran your fingers along his cheek before pulled him into a kiss. Macklin felt your tongue run along his lower lip before you pulled away. 

His cheeks were red, making you smile “I am sorry.” You apologised to Will, watching him rake his fingers through his hair “me too.” He motioned to you to come closer to him. 

Will couldn’t help but sigh “it has been a rough week.” The boys had lost three games on the bounce so they were looking forward to a few days off “how can I help you?” Will loved how caring you always were and he made that known as he kissed your forehead. 

A smile formed in Macklin’s face seeing you two okay again “I honestly just want to forget about the last few days.” Will’s confession came as you pressed a peck against his lips, assuming that he meant sex “you wanna pick a movie for us Mack?” The offer made his teammate’s eyes light up. 

Will squeezed your hand “maybe later for that, Mack has been talking about a cuddle all day.” Your cheeks turned red feeling the older boy kiss your earlobe as he whispered his words to you. 

Macklin sat on the couch with the remote in his hand as he stared at the screen “don’t go sitting anywhere that isn’t right here baby.” He patted the side of the couch next to him as it was your usual spot “you coming with us?” It was a two-seater couch but they often found themselves sat resting against you as you’d play with their hair. 

Will nodded, sending you a smile when he sat down before he pulled you into his lap “fast and furious baby?” You asked watching Macklin press play “you okay with that?” He never wanted to disappoint you so he was constantly double-checking. 

You softly smiled tapping your chest “c’mere.” Macklin didn’t need to be told twice as he rested his head on your shoulder “thank you.” He kissed your neck, not entirely sure how else to please you in that moment. 

Will mimicked his teammates actions as he too begun to nip at your neck “fuck.” You caught your lower lip between your teeth as you arched your back against the couch “you good?” Will reached, watching Macklin lean up to your lips. 

The younger boy teased you, letting his lips dance over yours “thought I was meant to be making you both feel better?” You breathed wanting to pull Macklin closer to you. 

And the younger boy wasn’t going to stop you from that as his lips grazed yours “you being here makes us feel better sweet girl.” Will cooed seeing how his words made you smile “shush it’s getting to a good part!” Macklin grumbled, shooting the both of you a glare before he rested his head back on your shoulder. 

The boy brought your hand into his hair, emphasising what he wanted from you “bossy.” Will mouthed making you smile as you kissed the younger boys head. The blonde ran his fingers over your thigh, he knew he should have been watching the movie but still feeling a little irritated, he loved how you looked in his hoodie. 

His eyes staring at you made your thighs press together “such a pretty girl.” The blonde boy mumbled resting his head on your other shoulder, opting to behave for the night as his hand sat on your stomach. Softly, he pushed your hoodie up to reveal your skin. He knew your stomach was sensitive and he played into that when he looked up at you. 

Macklin was just watching the movie, occasionally turning his head to kiss you “stop it.” You warned Will after he had been the one to turn you down earlier “I just wanna feel what my hoodie has got to feel all day.” Will whispered into your ear with a smirk. 

His calloused fingers were rough against your soft skin “don’t remember telling you to take it.” It had been in his own closet, so you took it when you were over having out with them “looks so much better on me, though, don’t it?” You winked blowing him a kiss before Macklin sucked at his teeth. 

The brunette reached up to grab your jaw with two of his fingers “watch it doll.” He ordered wanting you both to shut up because at least then you focus on playing with his hair. 

[biohorror-human]

U and I are kindred spirits I took one look at ur theme and I said ‘here is another being who enjoys eyescorching color combinations’ have u ever had the experience of presenting a slide with color design so atrocious you visibly see your superiors recoil? Highly recommend the experience if you can manage it (recommend for use only once you are certain to be fired or are not counting on letters of recommendation from them)

Holy fuck let me go find my old high school presentation called "the dean melter" it was a project in our econ class for a project about budgeting on different yearly pays, from minimum wage to like 100k per year or something. You know my cruelty squad loving ass made that as agonizing as possible. i have a bunch more like this but this is my magnum opus.

This slide is about where id be able to live in san diego (we had to base this project in san diego so everyone was on the same page)

this slide is my commute + utilities since i cant afford a car on 2500 a month according to the calculations

also, a lot of these are meant to be gifs, but i only have this project saved as a PDF. its like reading the script to shakespear's plays but not actually seeing them played out. Also, I'm very pro-public transport but as it stands, not very great in america. its okay in San Diego from what I can tell

this slide made me tweak

my teacher was crying laughing by the time we got to this slide. I was part of the first batch of students they taught at my high school, and the whole class had really good chemistry. I ran into him a few years later while I was picking my sister up and he flat out said "yeah no other class has been anywhere near as interesting as your guys it kind of sucks here"

elaborating on the work commute because of some vague criteria I didnt want to miss

can you see why i became a communist

we had to choose an insurance to meet criteria. btw i turned this in like 2 weeks late and got full points.

I presented this verbally so the bullets being fucking unreadable didnt count against my grade since only I was using them. And I didn't go up there and do the average bullshit "read off the board and then go to next slide" i saw my bullet point and started rattling off alllll my criticisms of capitalism

I never explained it to dean it wouldve ruined my flow also the link leads to a video that doesnt exist anymore so god knows what it couldve been

FOOD!!!! :DDDDD

kinda falls off at the end here cause it was like. 4 am at this point.

anyways. the calculations came through and, despite cutting out basically everything you need to survive in america, you have nothing left over. (theres 2 more slides after this but theyre lame as fuck, its just how much better life gets when youre paid more than minimum wage basically)

I made a video about "pervitin" in ww2 after much request by mr dean as well. I think its really good but it has my voice in it so im not posting it here, sorry.

[sirfrogsworth]

i figure you're probably getting a lot of angry and hurtful messages and comments about your empathy for evil people post, so i just wanted to say i really admire your integrity. it's hard to feel that way towards these people, but i think you're right. it doesn't excuse their actions but it does help us understand them, which can help us fight them while also identifying and not giving in to our own evil impulses. i also admire how you've responded to these comments, by treating them with empathy and gentleness too. it's clear you've treated empathy like a discipline, and i truly respect that.

i just wanted to send you some support. you're not alone in this corner, and i think it is important work. not for everyone to deal with directly, but you're good at it, and i'm glad you're challenging others to try

I appreciate that. Thank you. And thank you to all the others who have expressed the same sentiment.

Honestly the reception has been mostly positive. And a lot of great conversations are happening in the notes of that post. And I'm seeing a lot of additions that have helped me clarify and understand what I'm feeling. So overall I'm glad I vented those thoughts out in the middle of the night when I was tired and not concentrating well. Those foggy thoughts turned into something positive.

The negative stuff is always louder. And I wish I had a way to focus on the good in proportion to the bad. But the hurtful things just stick with me a lot more. Personally I deal with it by responding and hoping some of my words are absorbed. It is a technique that has helped me find closure throughout the years. Some prefer to block. Some prefer to ignore. But I need to respond at least once and attempt to find an understanding and rebut the things I disagree with. I have changed a few minds over the years. It doesn't happen often, but it does happen.

And, in this case, we are essentially on the same side. So I don't feel like I'm talking to a wall like with MAGA folks.

One thing I never used to do was tell people they hurt me. I would act like it all bounced off me. But I just don't have the energy or will to pretend anymore. So I now let people know upfront. I say, "This hurt me. Your words caused me harm." And I think with my normal civil responses that I've been doing for years, that little change has helped me process the hurt and move on much faster.

I also recognize how scared people are. And I get the feeling a lot of these folks are much younger than me. And a lot of them are queer. Society made it seem like that was more okay than ever. And a lot of people decided to be themselves very publicly and it seemed safe. It seemed like progress had been made.

And that progress undid itself very quickly.

And now this thing that felt so freeing feels like they unknowingly put a giant fucking target on themselves.

Anger, fear, anxiety... I recognize it in the people giving me a hard time. I disagree with them about empathy and humanization. But I understand how they probably got to that mindset. I have similar thoughts when I am at the height of fear and anger. And that's where my empathy helps temper them.

Their first instinct is always to dig in and double down. I know it takes a lot of willpower to resist that initial instinct. I've had years of practice resisting that. But I know how hard it used to be to admit I was wrong and change my perspective.

But I do hope my words and the words of all of the people contributing amazing thoughts to that post will get through eventually. I ask that people give them a little grace in the hopes that may happen.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Crack, Mentions of Drugs (Edibles), Unhinged Driving, Dubious Decision-Making, Nanami’s Ongoing Suffering. A/N: This chapter gave me so much procrastination that I posted 4-5 one-shots instead of finishing it, lol. You can see the effort in the chapter name itself. Attached links to help visualize things better, but honestly, just hallucinate them. Linkin Park has never performed in Ibiza, but in this story (and our collective delusions), they have. Also, Chester is alive because I said so. The song they’re screaming at Nanami is this: Faint – Linkin Park For my rap & metalhead babes, I highly recommend this unhinged track instead, but fair warning: Do not listen while driving unless you want to accidentally recreate the Jesko scene. Linkin Park/Slipknot/Eminem-Damage A little headcanon for this series(more at the bottom): Nanami and Reader are metalheads first, people second, while Gojo listens to literally anything, but they all agree on Linkin Park. Also, Gojo & Nanami are millennials in canon, so they probably fucked heavy with Linkin Park. Lastly, yes, I know the Jesko is a two-seater but is being used for plot reasons. You have two options: hallucinate it as a four-seater or imagine Nanami sitting in Gojo’s lap like an incredibly disgruntled boyfriend. Choose your fighter. Linkin Park Fans Rise Up!!!

Previous Chapter 14 (alt ending 2.5) - He's Eldritch (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 15 (alt ending 2.6) - Ibiza

Valentine’s Day,

Few Years Ago – Linkin Park Concert, Ibiza

Ibiza had been a mistake.

Not because you weren’t having fun, but because Nanami was here too—which meant Gojo and you were actively working to drive him insane.

"Put her down!"

"She literally just jumped on me like a goddamn gecko, Kento; at least let me enjoy it."

You were currently perched on Gojo’s broad shoulders, warm thighs wrapped around his neck, arms anchored in his soft hairs as he swung side to side to the live music.

The crowd was electric—Linkin Park’s heaviest guitar riffs were shaking the very air.

None of you could quite recall whose idea it was to choose Ibiza for your honeymoon, but since Nanami rarely got the chance to attend concerts back in Japan, he was exceptionally excited for this one.

Now, however, he was deeply regretting that decision, sighing heavily and pinching the bridge of his nose, half due to the sheer volume of your yelling and half because Gojo had decided to twirl in circles with you on his shoulders.

You weren’t even holding on properly, just tugging at his hair with blind faith (full Ratatouille), your head thrown back in laughter as Gojo stumbled dangerously close to knocking over someone’s beer.

"I’m getting drinks," Nanami grumbled, already walking away.

You and Gojo were screaming lyrics like lunatics.

Directly at him.

Loudly.

“DON’T TURN YOUR BACK ON ME—"

“I WON’T BE IGNORED—"

The babysitter returned twenty minutes later, with three beers, feeling marginally less irritated—until he saw you and Gojo standing in the middle of the crowd, staring blankly at nothing.

His stomach dropped.

Something was wrong.

You were way too still, eyes wide and unfocused, while Gojo was just smiling at absolutely nothing.

You both looked nothing short of zombies.

Then he noticed the small, half-empty bag in your hand.

Gummies.

Expensive imported ones.

The kind people only sold in dark corners and called ‘magic treats.’

“Oh no.”

At the sound of his voice, you and Gojo whipped your heads toward him in eerie synchronization.

“OH NO.”

Gojo blinked at him. Then at the bag in your hand. Then back at Nanami.

“…Did we just drug ourselves?”

Nanami took one deep, suffering breath. “How many did you eat?”

You squinted at the bag. “…How many come in a pack?”

“FIFTEEN?!”

You and Gojo stared at each other.

Gojo: “…Oh.”

You: “…Shit.”

And then it hit.

Thirty minutes later, you both were Ibiza’s Most Wanted.

Gojo was hanging upside down from a railing, laughing at nothing.

You were clinging to Nanami’s back, crying about people wasting glitter.

Nanami was holding both of you by your collars like two feral turkeys.

“THIS IS WHY I DON’T DO THIS SHIT,” Nanami yelled, muffled by the concert noise, physically restraining Gojo from attempting to climb a speaker.

Meanwhile, you started giggling at your phone, trying to take a video for your Instagram story.

“Ken~” you sang.

“NO.”

“I wuve you.”

“NO.”

“Please?”

“…NO—”

Gojo suddenly grabbed Nanami’s face with both hands, his pupils the size of dinner plates.

“I THINK THE GROUND IS MOVING.”

Nanami physically winced, praying to whoever was listening to end him now.

But then—you gasped.

“Ken, I have an idea.”

He already hated it. “NO.”

Gojo gasped. “SHE’S RIGHT, KENTO!” He turned to you, planting a kiss on your head while spinning you around. “You’re a genius, babe,” he exclaimed.

No one knew what the idea was or how Gojo knew (if he even knew at all).

“That’s it. I’ve had it with you two. Give me that!” Nanami snatched the bag of gummies from your hand, reached into the cursed, demon-infested bag, shoved all five remaining gummies into his mouth, and chewed aggressively before swallowing.

He looked up at you and Gojo, smiling maniacally.

It was then that he realized.

You and Gojo had manipulated him into joining you with a disturbing level of unity.

His face paled. You both clung to either side of him. “You look so cute when you’re jealous, Ken,” you cooed.

He sighed.

One hour later, no one was okay.

Gojo was leaning against a palm tree, staring at the sky, mumbling something about the universe. Every few seconds, he’d point at a random star and whisper, “That one’s judging me.”

You, on the other hand, were fully convinced you were Batman. You’d fashioned a makeshift cape out of a cardigan and were crouched on top of a table, growling at anyone who came near. “I am vengeance,” you hissed, pointing at a wild goat. “I am the night.” The goat, unimpressed, stole your entire plate of food and ran off. “Well, well, looks like we have a new villain in Gotham: The Caprine!” you shouted, ready to chase it before concert security glared you down.

And Nanami?

Nanami was standing perfectly still, staring at his hands as if he’d just discovered they existed, realizing for the first time that he was made of matter and atoms. He poked his own arm experimentally, as if expecting it to collapse into a pile of stardust. “This is… unsettling.”

The night was ruined.

Somewhere between Gojo’s existential crisis, your vigilante delusions, and Nanami’s sudden realization that he was, in fact, a physical being, things had spiraled so far out of control that the only logical next step was to start making out.

Which—well.

That’s exactly what happened.

It started with Gojo, because of course it did. He stumbled over to you, still muttering about the universe, and declared, “If we’re all just atoms, then we’re basically the same person. So this isn’t weird.” Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed your face and planted a sloppy kiss on your lips. You, still in full Batman mode, responded by dramatically declaring, “This city needs me,” before kissing him back.

Nanami, still staring at his hands, didn’t even notice at first. But when he finally looked up and saw the two of you, he froze. “What… are you doing?”

“We’re atoms,” Gojo replied, as if that explained everything. “Join us, Kento. Become one with the cosmos.”

Nanami blinked. Then, in a move that shocked even himself, he walked over, grabbed both of your faces, and kissed each of you.

The only silver lining in this entire disaster was that everyone around you was just as messed up as you were. A guy in a banana costume was trying to serenade a palm tree, a group of tourists were arguing with a vending machine, and someone had set up a slip-and-slide using whiskey as lubricant. No one batted an eye at the three of you making out in the middle of it all.

Ibiza had been a mistake. A colossal, unhinged, gummy-fueled mistake.

Around one a.m., you three were doing the walk of shame, except it wasn’t shame, just weed.

The streets of Ibiza were alive—a blur of neon lights, pulsing music, and the three most ridiculous human beings to ever exist, stumbling their way back to the hotel.

Well, it should’ve been a normal walk back, but you all looked like a trio of escaped lunatics.

“Okay, okay—” you wheezed, giggling uncontrollably, “—but imagine... imagine if we were actually in a video game.”

Gojo gasped, clutching his chest. “OH MY GOD. WHAT IF WE’RE JUST NPCS?!”

Nanami blinked slowly, his expression so serious it made it funnier. “I think I can hear colors.”

“See?!” you threw your hands up, nearly smacking Gojo in the face. “He’s the protagonist right now.”

“Not fair,” Gojo pouted. “I wanna be the protagonist.”

“You always act like the protagonist,” Nanami grumbled.

Gojo gasped louder, clutching Nanami’s shoulders. “WHAT IF I’M THE LOVE INTEREST?!”

You burst out laughing so hard that you had to lean on him for support, while Nanami just groaned, rubbing his temples like he was seconds away from throwing himself into the ocean.

Gojo squinted at you suddenly. “You’re way too pretty. You’re definitely the rich main character who has a tragic backstory.”

You gasped, playing along. “Am I an heiress?”

You and Gojo collapsed into laughter.

You weren’t just high—no, that would’ve been fine.

You were also drunk off your asses, giggling like idiots, barely keeping it together.

Gojo insisted on carrying you, except his definition of carrying was throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Nanami, who had officially entered his existential crisis era, was dragging a hand down his face. “I hate both of you.”

Gojo patted your backside. “Lies. You married us. No takesies backsies.”

Nanami deadpanned, his eyes bloodshot and full of regret. “That was a mistake.”

“Oh?” You gasped, hanging upside down off Gojo’s back. “Nanami Kento. Are you saying you regret our marriage?”

“Yes.”

Gojo nearly choked on his laughter, stumbling sideways and almost sending all three of you crashing into a streetlamp.

“You’re so mean,” you huffed, kicking your feet like an upset toddler as Gojo adjusted his grip on you.

“He’s lying,” Gojo whispered loudly against your thigh, as if Nanami wasn’t standing right there.

Nanami deadpanned again. “I married a clown and his assistant.”

At some point, you insisted on walking, so now all three of you were stumbling side by side, giggling at absolutely nothing.

Gojo was elbow-deep in your bag, rifling through it like a raccoon with opposable thumbs. "Where are they?" he whined, tossing out a mascara, a pack of gum, and what looked like a card from some male investor (he discreetly threw that one away). "YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE SNACKS! This is inhumane!"

Nanami, meanwhile, was squinting at a street sign like it was written in hieroglyphics. "Is this… Spanish?" he muttered, tilting his head as if that would help. "Or did they just make this up?" He frowned. “Why are there so many Z’s? What does ‘chiringuito’ even mean? Is that a place or a disease?”

And you? You were deeply, existentially concerned about your shoes.

"Why do they sound like that?" you suddenly demanded, stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk, eyes locked onto your heels as if they had betrayed you. You took a step. Click-clack. Another. Click-clack.

"They’re heels," Nanami deadpanned, like a man who had long given up on understanding you. "That’s what they do."

“No, but like—why do they click?” you insisted, bending down to poke at them.

Gojo snorted, pointing at you. “I told you she’s high as fuck.”

“I know. We all are,” Nanami sighed, grabbing your arm before you could walk straight into traffic. “Can we please keep moving?”

"My feet hurt," you whined, pouting so aggressively that it looked like you might actually cry. "I hate them."

Nanami removed his own shoes, then knelt to take off your heels. “Here,” he said, handing you his loafers. “Wear these. I’ll carry your heels.”

You beamed, slipping into his loafers like some kind of victorious little ogre. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, you grabbed Nanami’s face and kissed him on the lips before skipping ahead like nothing had happened.

Gojo, still rifling through your bag while looking for candies you kept in it, yelled, “I’m dying of hunger! Why is there nothing to eat in here?!”

“It’s not Doraemon’s pouch!” you shot back. “You ate everything, and now I’m starving too. Ugh, give it back before you tear it apart, you savage.”

Nanami pointed to a nearby food stall. “There’s food over there, but I lost my wallet. Gojo, did you bring yours?”

“I never bring my wallet. I don’t need to when I have you two treating me like the resident passenger princess.” Gojo grinned, unapologetic, as if this were a reasonable statement.

“Where are my cards?!” you suddenly shrieked, dumping the contents of your bag onto the sidewalk. “And why is there only lip gloss in here?!”

Gojo went completely still. "…It’s so small. Where was I supposed to put it?"

You inhaled sharply. "IN YOUR POCKET OR, BETTER YET, UP YOUR ASS?"

“Kinky.” Gojo smirked.

Nanami, exhausted, muttered, "I am so close to leaving you both here—"

"And to fit ONE lip gloss, you threw away ALL my cards?!" You continued, now physically shaking.

Gojo did what Gojo does best: he ran.

You lunged after him, but Nanami caught you around the waist like a seasoned babysitter. "Enough," he muttered, dragging you toward a nearby food stall. "They probably take online payments. Let’s just eat before I strangle both of you."

At the mere mention of food, Gojo, who had been halfway to a full sprint, immediately turned back, appearing at Nanami’s side as if he had never left.

The three of you stumbled toward the food stall, drawn by the siren call of greasy, late-night sustenance. The stall was a colorful mess of neon lights and handwritten signs, most of which were in Spanish. A stout old woman with a no-nonsense expression stood behind the counter, arms crossed, watching you approach with the kind of skepticism usually reserved for people who try to haggle over the price of a kebab.

Gojo boldly stepped up first. “Hello, madam!” he said, flashing his most charming smile. “We would like to order some food, please!” He never missed a chance to practice his English, still trying to impress you despite being married now.

The woman stared at him blankly, then grunted something in Spanish that sounded vaguely like a question.

“Uh,” Gojo said, his smile faltering. “Food? Comida? You know, like… eat?” He mimed shoving food into his mouth, complete with exaggerated chewing sounds.

The woman raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. She pointed at the menu board behind her, which was covered in words none of you could fully understand. “Elige,” she said gruffly.

Nanami stepped forward, squinting at the menu. “I think... this says ‘patatas bravas’?” he said, pointing at one item. “And this is... pan con tomate?”

You and Gojo collectively swooned over Mr. Worldwide Nanami Kento, who adjusted his glasses smugly.

The woman grunted again, nodding slightly. She pointed at Nanami, then at the menu, and made a gesture that seemed to mean, Hurry up and order.

“I’ll have the pan con tomate, please. And a bottle of water.” Nanami finished, pointing at the water bottles.

The woman nodded, scribbling something on a notepad. Then she turned to you, her expression somehow even more impatient.

“Uh, patatas bravas?” you said, pointing at the menu. “Please?”

She grunted again, jotting it down. Then she looked at Gojo, who was already leaning over the counter, trying to peer into the trays of food.

“Churros!” he declared, pointing at the tray. “All.”

The woman stared at him, then said something in Spanish that sounded like a warning. When Gojo didn’t react, she sighed and grabbed a plate, piling it high with churros. She shoved it toward him, then soon enough handed over the food to you and Nanami and turned away, clearly done with the three of you.

You grabbed your plate of patatas bravas and immediately shoved a forkful into your mouth. The crispy potatoes, smothered in spicy tomato sauce and aioli, were a revelation. “I think I’m in love with potatoes,” you moaned, your voice thick with pure, unfiltered emotion.

Nanami handed you a bottle of water. “We need to hydrate,” he said, his tone practical but slightly amused. “And maybe sober up.”

Gojo, meanwhile, was already on his third churro, powdered sugar dusted across his face like war paint. “Food tastes so much better when high.”

“Oh my god, I agree!” you exclaimed, nodding enthusiastically. Turning to Nanami, you brought some of the food to his mouth, and he ate it instinctively. “It’s good, darling,” he said, nodding in agreement.

You would have offered some to Gojo, but since he wasn’t sharing his, you felt a bit petty.

The three of you found a spot on the curb, sitting down to enjoy your 2 a.m. feast. Around you, Ibiza was alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and the occasional drunken shout. A group of tourists stumbled past, arguing over directions. A guy in a banana costume was trying to climb a lamppost. Someone had set up a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the street, and a crowd was gathering to watch.

You took another bite of your patatas bravas, savoring the flavors. “I could eat this every day,” you said, leaning against Nanami. “Like, seriously. I would marry these potatoes.”

Nanami sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “Please don’t propose to food in public.”

Gojo, his mouth full of churro, chimed in. “Too late. I already married this churro. We’re very happy together.”

You laughed, leaning back to look at the sky. The stars were bright, the air was warm, and you felt a strange sense of peace.

Once you three were done eating, you, Nanami, and Gojo stood at the food stall, drunk and high as hell, staring blankly at the old shopkeeper, who was now looking at you like she had already called the cops in her head.

"You scammers." She grunted, arms crossed over her chest.

"Excuse me?!" you sputtered, patting down your pockets as if money would magically appear.

Nanami diplomatically sighed. "We’re not scammers. We just... don’t have any cash."

The old lady squinted. "Scammers."

Gojo, absolutely no help at all, was still licking sugar off his fingers like some kind of degenerate. "Damn, these churros were worth the fraud."

"WE ARE NOT FRAUDS!" You turned on him, ready to strangle him.

The last sober neuron in Nanami’s brain was barely hanging on. "Look, we can pay online. Apple Pay, Google Pay, whatever you—"

"NO ONLINE!"The woman barked, shaking her head furiously. "No scammer money! Only cash! Or—" she paused, eyes narrowing at Nanami like she was assessing premium livestock. "Or you leave the Givenchy."

Your eyes snapped to Nanami’s expensive Givenchy dress shirt.

Gojo dropped a churro in slow motion.

Nanami just... exhaled, reaching for the top button of his shirt.

"Gakuganji’s bald head, Kento, NO," Gojo yelped.

You grabbed Nanami’s hands. "That shirt costs more than my liver; she’s scamming us!"

“I will scare her!” Gojo yelled, ready.

Nanami shrugged, already handing it over as payment. "It’s just a shirt."

The old lady grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. "Sí, sí! Is just a shirt!"

"LIKE HELL IT IS!" You were about to climb over the damn counter when she sniffed it like she had just inhaled the cure to all her problems.

Gojo lost it at that and cackled. "Babygirl, please," he wheezed, physically restraining you as you tried to murder the old woman with your bare hands.

"I AM NOT YOUR BABYGIRL!" you screamed, struggling against his grip. "MA’AM, GIVE ME THE SHIRT BACK BEFORE I—"

"No take-backs!" The woman grinned, hugging the shirt to her chest like it was her newborn child. "Good quality. Nice smell."

Gojo was losing his mind. "Babe, please, just let the old lady have it—"

"SHE IS HOLDING NANAMI’S CLOTHES HOSTAGE LIKE A WAR PRIZE, SATORU!"

Nanami placed a hand on your head like you were a particularly rabid kitten. "It’s fine," he said soothingly, his voice deep and warm in a way that had you temporarily forgetting your rage. "I’ll buy another one."

Gojo smirked. "And now you’re half-naked in Ibiza, Kento."

Nanami sighed. "Regrettably, yes."

And that’s how the three of you escaped the debt of a late-night food stall—at the great cost of Nanami’s designer shirt.

The walk back to the hotel was chaotic as hell.

Nanami, drunk and high, was relaxed in just his pants.

And that?

That was a problem.

Because apparently, Ibiza at night was full of thirsty women, and every single one of them was looking at your husband like he was a full-course meal.

You noticed it immediately.

The whispers. The stares. The not-so-subtle glances at Nanami’s broad, muscular frame, the way his exposed collarbone practically shimmered in the streetlights.

You scowled.

Then, without hesitation, you climbed him.

Not fully, obviously—you weren’t a damn spider monkey. But you threw yourself at his side, trying (and failing) to use your tiny body to block out literally six-plus feet of blond muscle.

Gojo doubled over laughing. "Baby, please, you look like a Chihuahua trying to guard a steak—"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, SATORU!"

Nanami just blinked at you. "Are you… okay?"

"No, I am NOT okay, Ken," you hissed, glaring at yet another woman who was eyefucking him. "They’re looking at you."

Nanami blinked. "And?"

"AND?" You almost screamed. "I AND SATORU ARE THE ONLY ONES ALLOWED TO LOOK AT YOU LIKE THAT."

Gojo wheezed. "Holy shit, you’re insane—"

You hissed at him.

Nanami, utterly unfazed, just patted your head again like a kindergarten teacher calming a feral child. "I belong to you. You know that."

That... shouldn’t have done anything to you.

But it did.

Gojo noticed immediately. His grin turned evil.

"Damn, sweetheart," he purred, slinging an arm around Nanami’s very exposed shoulders. "You’re acting like you don’t have two husbands."

"I AM AWARE," you snapped, before grabbing Nanami’s arm and glaring at every woman in a five-mile radius.

Nanami looked at the sky as if begging the universe for patience. "Are we almost back to the hotel?"

"Not fast enough," you grumbled.

Gojo just smirked, winking at one of the women eyeing Nanami. "Hey girl, you can look all you want, but only we get to touch."

"SATORU!"

And just like that, you had a new mission.

Protect Nanami. At all costs.

Even if that meant literally body-blocking him from the general public.

For the next ten minutes, you were practically shoving your loose top at Nanami, determined to restore his dignity.

"Just take it!" you huffed, trying to push it into his hands. "Let me—"

Nanami shoved it back at you. "I am not letting you walk through Ibiza at night in just a bra."

"Why not?!"

"Because it’s inappropriate."

"But it’s fine for you to be half-naked?!"

"That’s different."

"HOW?!" You narrowed your eyes and waited for him to dig himself into a hole because just now, Nanami Kento had walked into a trap all husbands detested—being proven sexist or weak.

Gojo was still laughing. "Sweetheart, let him be. He’s embracing his primal state."

"I WILL NOT LET HIM BE!" You yanked his arm like a stubborn child. "Take. The. Shirt."

Nanami just sighed harder, like he was already calculating his therapy bill. "I would rather die than let you walk around a strange country at night in nothing but a bra."

You narrowed your eyes further. "I thought you were my dark romance husband who says, ‘wear whatever you want, I can fight.’"

Gojo immediately wheezed. "Shit, Kento, R.I.P."

But before Nanami could kick him off, Gojo grabbed his own t-shirt and just yeeted it off in the middle of the street.

"Solidarity, Kento!" Gojo declared, now also bare-chested.

Now you were just standing there, sandwiched between two unfairly ripped men, blinking.

You turned to see everyone staring at what was supposed to be only yours. You could not fight this many people anytime soon.

Nanami, barely reacting, turned to Gojo with the deepest sigh of his life. "Why are you like this?"

Gojo grinned. "Look who’s talking, Mr. Eight-Pack Abs."

Nanami pinched his nose, his last brain cell disintegrating into dust. "Fine." He exhaled sharply and snatched your shirt from your grip, finally putting it on.

You, now finally winning, smirked.

Now, only Gojo was shirtless, twirling his discarded tee like a stripper on payday. "So, are we just walking back like this? ‘Cause I feel chilly."

Nanami didn’t even look at him. "Put your shirt back on, Satoru."

"Make me."

You rolled your eyes, grabbed Gojo’s shirt, and made him wear it like a mom. "I swear to God, if you both walk around practically naked, I will commit murder."

Gojo grinned, winking at you. "Oh? Kinda hot."

Nanami physically dragged him the rest of the way.

After a while of Gojo carrying you on his back, with Nanami walking behind to guard you, the three of you navigated through the crowds enveloped in Gojo’s infinity. Ahead, the 7Pines Resort loomed like a beacon of hope.

Except—

As soon as you reached the gates—

“Oh my God.” Gojo gasped, and you climbed down.

You and Nanami blinked at him in confusion.

“What?”

Gojo turned to you both, dead serious.

“This is a stealth mission.”

By all accounts, you should’ve just walked into your luxury hotel like normal people.

Instead—

“Wait,” Gojo whispered, pressing a hand to his earpiece (which did not exist).

“We’re undercover,” you nodded, eyes dead serious.

Nanami—who was 100% done with both of you—just sighed and rubbed his face. “We’re going to get arrested.”

Gojo shushed him aggressively. “Not with that attitude, Nami.”

Then, without any warning, Gojo flattened himself against a tree, moving slowly, eyes shifting left and right like he was some kind of secret agent.

You immediately followed suit, sliding up beside him.

Nanami stood there, staring at the two of you like he was seriously contemplating whether he could pretend not to know you.

You grabbed his wrist, dragging him into the nonsense.

“You’re Bond,” you whispered dead serious. “We’re your sexy sidekicks.”

“If I’m doing this, then I’m a respected businessman,” Nanami muttered, surprisingly complying.

"Fine,” Gojo hissed. “Now move before they spot us.”

The second you stepped inside the gorgeous, luxurious, marble-floored lobby—all three of you immediately dropped into a squat.

A rich, powerful trillionaire, a stoic ex-salaryman, and a 6’3” menace—all crouching like idiots behind a plant that was not nearly big enough to hide the three of you.

“This is so stupid,” Nanami muttered.

Gojo shushed him aggressively. “You’re ruining the mission.”

You squinted. “Where’s our target?”

Gojo was suddenly the kind of serious the higher-ups wished he was in meetings. “The elevator.”

Nanami whispered, "Follow me.”

Then—like a trio of highly trained spies (read: three unhinged drunk people)—you moved in sync.

Crouch-walking.

Stalking behind ridiculously expensive furniture.

Ducking behind a giant vase (which Gojo nearly knocked over).

Your Nanami’s loafers clicked against the marble, completely ruining the stealth, all because your foot size was not the same as his, making it feel like a child cosplaying an adult.

Nanami sighed in agony, watching his dignity disintegrate as he followed you barefoot.

At one point, Gojo cartwheeled behind a couch. (It was not a cartwheel; he almost got a concussion.)

You rolled behind a decorative plant.

Nanami simply walked normally, hands in his pockets.

You giggled into your hand, clinging onto their sleeves.

It didn’t help that the staff already knew you were high as a kite and actively ignored you.

And then—miraculously—you made it to the elevator without getting kicked out.

Somehow, despite the absolute circus you all just pulled, you reached the penthouse suite without being thrown out.

And that’s when the real problem started.

The second the door clicked shut, Gojo pressed you against the wall, caging you in with his arms.

His lips curled into a grin, but his eyes—God, those electric blue eyes—were dangerous.

“So, uh,” his voice dropped. “What do spies do after a mission?”

You grinned back.

“Celebratory sex,” Nanami deadpanned from behind you.

Gojo snapped his fingers. “Exactly.”

“You know,” he murmured, voice low, “I think we deserve a reward.”

Nanami, putting away your heels, exhaled slowly behind him. “We need water first.”

Gojo ignored him, and the heat in the room shifted instantly. He dipped down to press his forehead against yours.

“You look so fucking beautiful right now,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your lips.

You shivered.

Gojo chuckled, his voice thick with amusement.

“She’s still high,” Nanami pointed out, taking off your t-shirt.

Gojo leaned closer, his lips ghosting against yours. “So am I.”

And then—

Nanami’s hand slid to your waist, warm and solid against your skin.

Your heart pounded.

Your back arched.

Then Gojo missed your mouth completely and kissed your cheek.

And then your nose.

And then somehow your eyebrow.

You snorted so hard it broke the mood entirely.

Gojo pulled back, blinking in confusion. "Did you just—are you laughing?"

"You kissed my eyebrow."

Gojo’s eyes widened in betrayal. "No, I didn’t."

Nanami, tired of your combined antics, sighed. "You did."

Then the second Gojo kissed you, it was over.

Your high-ass brain forgot everything—your name, your life, why you were even standing up—because all you could feel was warmth.

Nanami’s hands moved to your breast, kneading, drawing out a deep gasp while he bit your shoulder.

The high made everything—every touch—ten times more intense.

Gojo’s lips brushed against yours, teasing, grinning against your mouth.

And then—

Your legs gave out.

“Oh—shit—” Gojo yelped, grabbing you like a sack of potatoes.

“Are you okay?” Nanami immediately snapped to concern, but his shirtless self looked so serious that it just—

It just made you laugh.

Like really laugh.

And Gojo, the idiot, caught your giggles like a contagious disease.

“What—why are you laughing?” Nanami asked flatly, but Gojo was already bent over, wheezing, dragging you down with him.

You were giggling uncontrollably in Gojo’s arms, tears in your eyes, because none of this made sense, but it was so funny.

Nanami sighed, rubbing his temples.

The next few moments were a blur of—

Gojo kissing you like a starved man, hands greedy, palm pressed flat against the small of your back.

Nanami tilted your chin up, kissing you slow and deep, fingers dragging up your spine as Gojo pressed against your back.

All three of you collapsed onto the giant bed, a tangle of limbs and heat.

Gojo cursed under his breath when you pulled his t-shirt off, fingers dragging over his abs.

Nanami groaned when you got impatient and yanked his trousers loose.

Then—

“Wait.”

Silence.

Gojo paused mid-kiss, blinking.

You and Nanami looked up, waiting.

Gojo squinted, frowning. “Are we—” he paused. “Is this high making us extra horny?”

You blinked. “Has he never had an edible before?”

Nanami answered you both. “Yes.”

Gojo nodded. “Cool.”

Then he immediately went back to kissing you.

Nanami just shook his head and returned to leaving hickeys on your décolletage.

After some time, Gojo was grinning like a fool, straddling your waist and pressing kisses all over.

“You’re so fucking hot, baby, holy shit.”

Nanami was pressed against your back, his hot breath on your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“Are you even taking this seriously?” he muttered, but he was smirking against your skin.

Gojo smiled like an overexcited puppy. “We’re high, Kento!”

Nanami sighed, but his hand was already sliding up your thigh.

And then AGAIN—

Gojo gasped. “Oh my God—I’m in a threesome!”

Nanami froze.

You froze.

And then, like the traitor you were, you burst out laughing.

“WE’RE MARRIED, SATORU.” Nanami groaned, burying his face in your shoulder, hiding his laughter.

Gojo was giggling like an idiot, collapsing onto you.

And somehow—somehow—that giggling turned into kisses.

Soft.

Warm.

Lazy, slow, sweet.

You were all a mess, breathless and tangled, forgetting the world outside this moment.

In the soft haze of high and heat, all you could think was—

God, you loved them.

Ibiza had been a mistake.

But, holy hell, what a delightful one.

And the real honeymoon finally began.

---

Present Day, Japan

Warmth surrounded you.

Soft. Safe. Home.

You burrowed in deeper, letting yourself drift again, somewhere between sleep and waking, your mind blissfully blank. A slow, steady heartbeat thumped against your ear, and you sighed, nuzzling closer into the familiar, comfortable warmth of a fireplace.

Then something hard pressed against your lower back.

Your hazy brain barely registered it before all the pregnancy hormones you had been suppressing for months suddenly kicked the door down. A slow heat bloomed deep in your stomach, and before you could stop yourself, your hips rolled back, instinctively seeking friction.

Behind you, a slow, sharp inhale was taken against your hair. The arms around your waist tightened.

Encouraged by the response, you shifted again, pressing closer, rubbing against the firm heat.

It felt good.

Right.

Your body felt alive, sensitive in a way it hadn’t been in forever.

And then—oh. Oh.

A low, gravelly groan rumbled behind you, vibrations running down your spine.

The weight around your waist shifted, and suddenly, you were pulled flush against someone’s broad, solid chest. A large hand splayed over your belly, possessive yet reverent, while the unmistakable pressure of him aligned perfectly against the curve of your ass.

A hot exhale ghosted over your ear. "Fuck."

Your fingers clenched into the fabric you had been clutching in front of you, only to realize—

You were holding onto Nanami.

Face pressed into his neck, drooling onto his sweater.

Your body went rigid.

You wondered who Gojo was thinking of right now. Was it Nanami? Of course, it must be.

Another slow, gritted groan came from behind you. “Don’t go. I’m so sorry, baby. You’re my sun, and I won’t survive this void without you.”

Gojo’s hands moved and tightened over your sore, heavier-than-normal breasts, his face tucking against your neck as he ground against you once, just once, as if his asleep body was responding to yours on instinct.

Your stomach flipped—but not with affection.

Carefully, you started untangling yourself.

Nanami shifted first, a small frown pulling at his brows as he reached out for you in his sleep. You grabbed a pillow and shoved it in your place.

Like an idiot, he took it, pulling it to his chest with a small sigh.

A laugh tried to escape you, but you smothered it.

No. Focus.

Gojo was next. His breathing was steady—still asleep. Good.

You tried to sit up.

His arms, already firm around you, suddenly locked.

Tighter.

Jail-tight.

You sighed, pausing to wait for an opening. But he was clinging, his grip protective, securing you as if you were something precious that could slip away.

Seconds turned into minutes.

His warmth. Their warmth. Their familiar scent surrounded you.

Your eyelids grew heavy again.

And against your better judgment, you fell asleep again.

A few minutes later, you woke up to find Gojo nowhere to be seen and Nanami on the floor.

It wasn’t a surprise; how the hell were two massive men and your submarine-sized self even fitting on a couch?

By all logic, Nanami should’ve been on the floor long ago—he had been on the outside edge, after all.

Now, he was bundled up under a ridiculously heavy blanket, curled around a pillow like a koala—the one you’d shoved toward him. He must have fallen along with it. Thank God, or he would have taken you with him into the abyss.

His face was completely buried in it, soft blond strands spilling over the fabric, rising and falling with his slow, even breathing. He looked so peaceful, like a sun hidden behind storm clouds.

Like he wasn’t currently competing for the title of Captain Clueless McGee against Gojo these days.

“Don’t wake him up yet; his cursed energy needs a bit more to recharge,” came a voice from somewhere.

Yeah, like you were going to anyway.

You sighed, sitting up—luckily, no morning sickness today—and rubbed your eyes.

“Here,” a coffee mug with ‘The Strongest Pussy Eater’ and Gojo’s face was shoved close to your face.

You blinked at it, then up at Gojo, who was holding his own cup—which was yours, reading ‘Boobs Make Me Smile.’

You took your mug and placed it on the side table.

Gojo plopped himself down next to you, stretching his long limbs in a spidery way.

You stared blankly at nothing in particular, waiting for your brain cells to clock in for work.

Minutes passed.

Eventually, you picked up the coffee and took a sip.

…Butterscotch?

You frowned and took another sip to confirm.

Lo and behold.

Suspicion crept in. You peeked over the rim of your cup at Gojo, who was very obviously trying to hide his stupidly wide grin behind his own mug.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

In a voice low enough not to wake Nanami, you finally asked, “Are they yours?”

Gojo blinked, confused at first.

Then—like watching one single brain cell connect two dots—his expression slowly shifted.

Hesitantly, he replied, “He should be part of this conversation, right?”

He pointed toward Nanami, who was now halfway under the coffee table like a giant, well-insulated cockroach.

"Yeah, like you two kept me in the loop while che—" Your brain stalled.

Damn it, why did he look so cute?

Oh.

Right.

Hormones.

Definitely hormones.

Gojo was watching you, pretending he wasn’t, but his poorly hidden grin gave him away.

You cleared your throat, trying to reset your focus.

Before you could say anything, a deep, groggy voice came from the floor.

“You’re awake.”

Nanami’s voice was rough with sleep, his arms loosening on the pillow as he blinked at you, sleepily gauging your expression.

Gojo mock-stirred, rubbing his eyes like a spoiled prince. “Mmm, morning, pretty boy.”

Nanami immediately pulled his blanket over his head, obscuring his entire being, and groaned, “It’s too early for your shit.”

Gojo wasn’t deterred. “Our wife wants to know if they’re mine.”

Silence.

Nanami’s blanket lowered slightly. “…What?”

You took another sip of your butterscotch and sugar-overload disaster that should be declared a Turkish delight at this point and let out a small, unintentional hum of satisfaction. Fuck.

Gojo caught it.

His eyes gleamed as he leaned in, his voice way too smug for the morning. “Sugar cravings, huh?”

You tried to burrow into your blanket to escape the judgment.

Like a damn professor, Gojo took a very serious sip of his own coffee before announcing, “Sugar helps replenish energy and glucose levels faster.”

You glared. “I’m not gonna repeat myself. I know you can tell. From the cursed energy or whatever.”

Nanami, still half-dead on the floor, finally muttered, “Both ours.”

“Like spiritually or genetically?”

“Genetically.” He didn’t elaborate further.

You nodded, then your gaze snapped back to him. “Wait, that’s possible?”

Nanami looked caught off guard.

Gojo interjected, "Yeah, very rare. We are very lucky, baby.” He added a small chuckle, but underneath, he was sweating.

Then, folding his arm under his head, Nanami studied you carefully.

You poker-faced it.

Internally, though?

Something in your chest squeezed—a feeling you refused to name.

At least you wouldn’t have two Gojo clones harassing you for the rest of your life.

You simply hummed, grabbed your phone, and started texting people to take over arrangements at work. No way in hell were you going in today.

Nanami, satisfied with your reaction (or lack thereof), simply turned over and went back to sleep.

Gojo’s hand ghosted over your belly—a touch he didn’t complete.

You said nothing.

Instead, you stood up, stretching out the stiffness in your limbs. Gojo’s stupid grin faltered, softening into something smaller, something quieter, something so gut-wrenchingly fond it made his chest ache.

You ignored it and glanced at your phone, which was vibrating with a new text.

Yu 🐒: Hark, fair maiden! Prithee, unbar thy portal and grant us entry, for we hath arrived bearing the most fearsome of beasts—a creature of untamed spirit and claws sharper than the wit of your court jesters! Behold, the feral cat, a beast both noble and wild, hath graced us with its presence. Open thy doors, lest we be forced to parley with this tiny, hissing dragon upon thy stoop!

Yu 🐒: Pray, do not mention the scratches upon mine armor. 'Tis but a badge of honor.

Right on cue, a loud, impatient knock rattled the door. You perked up immediately.

“I got it,” you announced, already on your way.

The moment you opened the door, Haibara strolled in like he owned the place, several bags in hand, showing zero regard for personal space or the sanctity of your home.

Megumi, right behind him, handed you a tiny, squirming baby raccoon. It stretched its tiny arms toward you, and you gingerly cradled it against your chest.

“Wait—it’s albino?” You blinked, peering down at the little baby’s clean, impossibly soft fur.

Megumi wandered in. “He. And yes, at this point, you have a knack for collecting albino men.”

“I’m not albino. It’s the amount of my cursed energy you can’t even imagine that makes my hair white!” Gojo bellowed from the kitchen, slamming pancakes onto the griddle with the force of a man trying to prove he wasn’t eavesdropping. He was very invested in breakfast—or at least he wanted you to think so. But every few seconds, his eyes darted toward you, betraying his true focus: the raccoon.

Oh, the raccoon.

Because for Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, the man who could level cities with a flick of his wrist, had one singular dream: to become the Raccoon King. Or, more accurately, Raccoon Dad. He wanted to hold it, become best friends with it. He wanted to whisper sweet nothings into its tiny, masked ears and maybe teach it to steal Nanami’s ugly glasses just so he could watch Nanami searching for them, grumbling. (Little did he know that within one night, Haibara had already one-upped him on that.)

But no—there you were, cradling the raccoon like it was the most precious thing in the world. Your arms wrapped around it instinctively, protectively, swaying just slightly as you soothed it.

And that’s when Gojo’s brain short-circuited.

Because if you could hold a raccoon like that—like it was a fragile, beloved treasure—would you hold his babies like that? Would you let him hold his kids? Would you—?

Gojo’s thoughts descended into chaos.

And then, like a lead balloon, he sank.

Right into the pit of his own existential despair.

So he pouted. Hard. Stirring the pancake batter with the intensity of a man questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment. The whisk clinked against the bowl like a funeral bell, and Gojo wondered if raccoons could sense emotional turmoil.

He glanced at you again. You were still holding the raccoon.

Still swaying.

Still looking like the kind of person who could effortlessly raise a family of tiny, chaotic beings.

Gojo sighed, stirring harder.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

It was not fine.

Meanwhile, Megumi had already moved on, fully ignoring Gojo's spiral. He eyed you with thinly veiled judgment. “Why are you not dressed yet?”

You, now completely wrapped up in coddling the raccoon, hummed, “I’m taking maternity leave starting today.”

At that, Megumi stilled while Gojo internally fist-pumped.

Haibara, however, was too busy bullying Nanami.

He had just discovered Nanami sleeping halfway under the table and was now poking at his ear like a child tormenting a bear.

Nanami grunted and batted at it a few times like a mosquito before suddenly startling awake, immediately two seconds away from committing murder. “Why are you poking me?”

You stifled a giggle.

Haibara, unfazed, just grinned at him smugly as if this were the greatest joy of his life. “I dunno. Feels right.”

Nanami, who had only just woken up from his half-under-the-table depression nap, sat up, dead-eyed and exhausted, then stood and dragged himself toward the kitchen to begrudgingly help Gojo.

Haibara, satisfied, collapsed onto the couch beside you.

You started, grinning like you were about to ask for his last bite of cake. “I need a huge favor.”

Megumi sighed, already knowing where this was going. “What?”

You glanced between him and Haibara. “So,” you began, shifting slightly to accommodate your ever-growing twin-infested belly, “in my absence, since there are jackals—” You spoke louder, glaring at the two traitors in the kitchen, “—who would just love to take over the company I built from scratch given my unusual circumstances—”

Both Gojo and Nanami visibly flinched.

“—I need you and Haibara to take over in my absence.”

Megumi just stared. Haibara, thrilled, looked ready to commit war crimes.

You continued, already prepared to argue. “You don’t have to do anything major. My execs will handle the details and keep me updated, but sometimes things might require your attention. And Megumi, I know you already have your own company, and Haibara, I know you’re technically retired but still somehow more dangerous than an entire intelligence agency, but you two are the only ones I trust right now.”

You paused to let that sink in.

Megumi, without hesitation, said, “I’ll do it. Don’t worry about it.”

“Not so fast,” Haibara said, his tone dripping with that unnervingly cheerful negotiation energy.

Your stomach dropped. If Haibara was feeling negotiation-core, you were doomed. You were already out of options—ideally, you’d have gone to Nanami, but handing him such power felt like signing your own death certificate. He’d probably screw you over in the name of “love” or some other nonsense.

You turned to him, already dreading whatever ridiculous request was about to come out of his mouth.

“What’s the car privilege like, and can I have my own jet?” Haibara asked, very serious.

You exhaled, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You will have access to all executive privileges I have. And you will be compensated at my salary level.”

Megumi’s eyebrow twitched. He looked like he wanted to strangle Haibara with his bare hands.

Haibara, unfazed, asked, “How much do you make?”

“You have no shame.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “And you have even less survival instinct to ask a woman that question.”

Megumi, still seething, muttered, “She’s a trillionaire.”

Haibara shrugged. “Exactly. You were thinking it too.”

Before you could throw hands, Haibara swung an arm over Megumi’s shoulder and turned slightly, as if you weren’t right there. “I would like a minute to discuss this with my associate.”

Then, in a very serious, very confidential whisper, Haibara asked, “What’s your favorite Pokémon?”

Megumi stared at him. “How many times did you hit your head in MI6?”

Haibara smirked. “Too many to count, but you should see the others.”

Then he turned back to you, completely deadpan. “I have discussed it with my associate, and we’d like to consider your preposterous proposal.”

You rolled your eyes because, one, you had heard every word, and two, they had not discussed anything. “Great. I’ll call my CHRO and get the paperwork started.”

Haibara opened his mouth immediately, but you cut him off. “No, you cannot throw parties. Yes, you can use the AR/VR hall.”

Haibara beamed. “Pleasure doing business with you. I’ve always wanted to be a CEO. Never got to cosplay that in MI6.”

He turned to high-five Megumi, but Megumi didn’t raise his hand, so Haibara high-fived Megumi’s face instead.

As Megumi pushed Haibara off the couch, you laughed while texting your CHRO, who lived just a few floors down and would be arriving in a few minutes.

---

A few minutes later, the scent of breakfast filled the air, but you weren’t impressed.

Instead, you sat on the couch, wrapped in your rage like a blanket, one hand absentmindedly stroking the tiny albino raccoon curled up against your swollen belly. It purred, content.

Meanwhile, you?

Not content.

Your husbands—traitors, both of them—were in the kitchen, pretending they weren’t the prime targets of your wrath.

Across from you, Megumi casually sipped his coffee, every bit the Corporate Toji Hybrid he was: effortlessly powerful, composed, and completely indifferent to the tension in the room. Next to him, Haibara lounged like a cat that had just knocked over a vase on purpose, his shit-eating grin locked directly on Nanami.

Megumi had already moved on, focused entirely on the tiny albino raccoon baby sleeping against your belly.

“I left his medical notes and care instructions in there,” Megumi murmured, gesturing to the bags he’d brought. He gently petted the baby raccoon’s tiny head, his voice soft. “He’s already fed, so you don’t need to worry about that. Next feeding is at 12 PM. A few more days, then he’ll be three months old, and we can move him to other food. Call me if you need anything or want me to babysit him.”

You nodded as the CHRO finished taking pictures of the baby. “He’s so smoll and adorable.”

Then she switched back to her regular demeanor, adjusting her blazer and perking up as she took her seat just as the housekeeping staff arrived with freshly brewed coffee and a plate of neatly arranged breakfast. She nodded in thanks before turning to you with a level-headed, professional tone.

“You can’t go on leave immediately,” she stated, glancing over her tablet. “As per Japanese labor laws, maternity leave must be announced at least six to eight weeks in advance. However—” she took a sip of her coffee, narrowing her eyes at Gojo and Nanami, “—we can work something out if you can provide a doctor’s note.”

You, already prepared, slid Shoko’s note across the table. “I figured as much. This should do.”

She skimmed the document, nodding in approval. “It’s solid. Given your condition, we can argue medical necessity.” She added it to her folder, then added, “Now the real problem is the board of directors. Those idiots won’t easily turn over. Pardon my language; it’s too early.” She took another long sip of her coffee, clearly needing it.

Gojo and Nanami pretended not to hear, their focus on the breakfast spread.

You chuckled, “I know. But considering they’ve been crying for me to step down, I think they’ll be more than happy to approve my leave.”

“Not with your candidates.” She lifted her gaze, deadpan, as she gestured toward Megumi and Haibara. “No offense.”

Haibara, utterly unbothered, waved a hand dismissively, leaning back into the couch with a relaxed posture. Megumi didn’t even look up from his phone, his expression unreadable as he took another sip of his coffee, unfazed by the conversation.

Your CHRO tapped a manicured nail against the table, deep in thought. “However… I believe we could expedite things by bringing in a certain classy lawyer. Someone who can bury them in so much legal jargon about the Child Care and Family Care Leave Act that they’d have no choice but to comply.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Classy, huh? Want me to stage a little run-in?”

She glanced up from her coffee, her smirk mirroring yours. “No need. He’ll come to me. We’ve got history.”

You couldn’t help but grin. This—this—was why she was one of your most trusted allies. She wasn’t just competent; she had a knack for understanding people. She knew exactly how to pull the right strings, when to push, and when to sit back and let them walk right into her hands.

Unbeknownst to both of you, the four men in the room were watching like spectators at a tennis match, their faces a mix of horror and disbelief. Gojo and Nanami, in particular, looked like they’d just been handed a life sentence. Nanami had been quietly spiraling since Hiromi saved them on your request from going to jail again, his mind racing with the unbearable thought that you might leave them for Higuruma—calm, competent, and painfully similar to him. Meanwhile, Gojo had been one wrong word away from flinging himself off the nearest rooftop, convinced that his charm and good looks were no match for Higuruma’s “mature lawyer vibes.”

It was tragic, really. Two grown men, utterly defeated by the mere possibility of being replaced by someone who probably ironed his socks.

“Don’t worry about the board; call a meeting. I’ll take care of it,” Megumi interjected.

What board was left anyway? He and Haibara had removed all the prickly members, not that they were going to share that with the class.

“Great!” Your CHRO glanced at her watch. “Alright, it’s getting late. Once everything is finalized, we’ll move forward with the announcement. We’ll need to notify the Tokyo Stock Exchange and the Financial Services Agency, given your company’s listing.”

Then she turned to you, finishing the last sip of her coffee. “A word in private?”

“Sure.”

Your brows furrowed as you pushed yourself off the couch, but you immediately froze—the baby raccoon was determined to crawl inside your t-shirt.

You sighed, reaching out blindly to shove the fluffy menace into Gojo’s arms as he passed by.

Gojo, mid-bite into a stolen biscuit, blinked in surprise before cradling the raccoon as if it were your firstborn. The little creature immediately latched onto his shirt, climbing it like a tree.

“Traitor,” you muttered under your breath before nodding at your CHRO. “Let’s go.”

Little did you know, that was the best day of Gojo’s life as he cradled the baby in his arms.

The morning air was crisp as you stepped onto the rooftop, the city skyline buzzing below. People rushed to work or school. Your CHRO leaned against the railing, her expression unreadable.

“An investor has contacted me,” she said, her tone measured.

You crossed your arms, frowning, still unsure why she was bringing it up. “Let Megumi handle it from now.”

“That’s the problem,” she countered, watching your reaction. “They insist on meeting you personally. No exceptions.”

You exhaled sharply. Of course, they did.

“That’s not creepy at all,” you deadpanned, not at her, but at the entire concept of this mystery investor.

Your CHRO continued, unfazed. “The money is substantial. More than enough to drown out the sharks circling us right now. And…” she hesitated, then added, “He’s got a remarkable PR track record. Think ‘Bendgate’—turning PR disasters into status symbols. He’s suggesting that instead of fighting the backlash, we own it. He even thinks we frame your maternity leave as a power move rather than a retreat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Looks like he wants to do more than just invest.”

Her lips curled slightly, impressed as always by how quickly you saw through things.

“He said—and I quote—‘I protect my assets.’”

She studied your reaction. “So, if nothing else, he’s definitely planning to keep his investment safe. And if that means getting us out of negative publicity, we might as well let him.”

Your fingers drummed against your arm as you mulled over the idea. It was a good move—maybe even an excellent one. But the way this investor was approaching it—insisting on you, personally—set off more alarms than you’d like.

Still, you were never one to dismiss a game just because the opponent seemed strong.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally said, then shot her a sharp glance. “Now go.”

Your CHRO grinned knowingly but didn’t push further. She nodded and followed you back inside.

Back in the living room, Haibara immediately pulled you into a suffocating hug, taking your leave with enthusiasm.

Megumi, standing beside him, simply reached out and ruffled your hair. You glared up at him, swatting his hand away, but he just smirked in response.

And then just as they were about to leave, Haibara turned back with a-too bright for morning-grin.

“Oh, by the way—say hello to your new neighbors.”

Your entire body tensed.

“What?”

But before you could demand answers, Haibara and Megumi were already gone.

Nanami and Gojo were visibly frozen.

Gojo’s jaw hung slightly open, as if he were processing the worst possible outcome.

Nanami, on the other hand, looked like he was seriously debating throwing himself off the balcony.

After a beat of silence, you closed the door.

You didn’t say a word.

You simply went straight to the shower.

Meanwhile, in the background, Nanami was already deep into an argument with the housekeeping staff about something probably insignificant—because, as had been established long ago, you were not socially extroverted enough to ask them for anything, and Gojo sure as hell wasn’t responsible enough to handle it.

So, by default, it was Nanami’s job.

And judging by the increasing frustration in his tone, he was acutely aware of this injustice.

---

By the time you finally lowered yourself into a chair at the dining table, breakfast was already waiting—your favorite meal, prepared with precision, the portions adjusted to what your body could currently tolerate.

The scent hit first: warm, familiar, comforting.

And yet, your stomach twisted.

Gojo slid a glass of milk beside your plate, his voice deliberately light. “Gotta keep those bones strong, mama.”

You stared at the glass.

Your face remained blank, but deep inside, you were already dry-heaving in spirit.

Milk. Plain, disgusting, childhood-trauma-inducing milk.

The sheer audacity of this man.

In all the years of your relationship, not once had you willingly consumed a glass of milk. Not once.

Nanami, oblivious to your mental betrayal arc, set a peeled orange next to your plate—a habit he’d developed after his Ph.D.-level pregnancy research phase. “Eat slowly,” he advised, watching you carefully as he took a seat across from you.

You stabbed your fork into your food. The tension was suffocating.

You chewed quietly, the atmosphere thick with unspoken words. They were waiting for you to say something—anything—but you didn’t. You just kept staring at the glass of milk, trying not to grimace. Honestly, you didn’t care if anyone called you a toddler; you absolutely hated plain milk. It tasted so disgusting that you felt like throwing up every time, and it brought back memories of your mom trying to force-feed it to you.

Everything felt awkward, and the housekeepers were eyeing you with sympathy, like a zoo animal under observation.

Gojo, who had never handled prolonged silence well, fidgeted. “Do you... feel okay today?”

You looked at him, then at Nanami, and finally back at your plate.

“Fine,” you muttered.

It was a lie.

But it was also a functional answer.

The relief on their faces was immediate—like you had just spared them from the gallows.

They had no idea.

Because inside you, the twins were awake.

And they were moving.

Your hand subtly pressed against your stomach as you felt a now-familiar pressure beneath your ribs.

Like a second heartbeat thrumming beneath your skin.

You swallowed thickly.

Neither Nanami nor Gojo noticed. They were too focused on watching you eat, too distracted by their own guilt.

But then a tiny whine sounded from beneath the table.

You blinked, looking down to find the baby raccoon furiously trying to climb your leg.

Your heart cracked open.

You had read somewhere that baby raccoons did this specifically to get their mother’s attention.

But you couldn’t bend over under the table, not with the ever-expanding horror that was your current body. So Gojo, sensing your dilemma, reached down and scooped up the tiny menace.

The raccoon, immediately noticing Nanami, turned full feral.

Before anyone could react, he launched himself onto Nanami’s sweater, claws sinking in as he scrambled up like a tiny, aggressive mountaineer.

Nanami jerked, startled.

The raccoon kit, small but packed with the kind of raw, chaotic energy that only an orphaned, two-month-old menace could wield, had reached his final destination—Nanami’s head.

Perched like a crown atop the golden locks, the little beast surveyed his kingdom with an air of unearned confidence. Then, with the audacity of someone who had never known consequences, he latched onto Nanami’s hair and pulled.

Hard.

A sharp inhale. A barely restrained flinch. A flash of sheer suffering crossed Nanami’s face before it was promptly buried under his usual look of long-suffering exhaustion.

"…Get him off, Satoru," he said, his voice calm but teetering on the edge of homicide. "It hurts."

Gojo, who had been waiting for this moment his entire life, was nearly vibrating with glee.

"Why would I do that when he’s clearly bonded with you?" Gojo cooed, shaking a plastic container of raccoon-safe treats like he was summoning a beast. "Come here, little guy. Look, I got the good stuff~!"

The raccoon did not come.

Instead, the raccoon opened his mouth and started chewing on Nanami’s hair.

You, composed as ever, lifted your cup to your lips, the picture of grace despite the absolute clownery unfolding right in front of you. Your hands trembled with the effort of keeping a straight face, but you held firm, fighting for your life not to laugh (that would not be very nonchalant of you).

Very nonchalant. Unbothered. Above it all.

Nanami was none of these things.

With the measured patience of a man who had seen death and returned more disappointed than scared, he reached up, pried the raccoon from his scalp, and held him out like an HR complaint. The kit, dangling from his firm grip, wiggled his tiny limbs in protest.

"He needs a name,” he mused, just as Gojo immediately snatched the baby from Nanami’s grasp and cradled him like a long-lost son.

"Say less," Gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with the raw, unchecked power of a man who had never been stopped from making bad decisions. He grasped your shoulder, deadly serious. "Feral Slay."

A beat of silence followed.

"You’re never naming anything. Ever," Nanami stated with the firm finality of a judge handing down a life sentence.

"Okay, okay, fine," you said, waving a hand before Gojo could start rattling off worse options. You turned to the raccoon, tilting your head. "He kinda looks like a... Bean. No, wait—Clout Save."

Gojo stared at you, horrified. "Clout Save?"

"Clout Save."

"Clout Save."

"CS for short," you added helpfully.

Gojo dragged a hand down his face. "You can’t just name him like he’s some little meow meow—"

"His name is Takahashi the ETA."

Both you and Gojo turned slowly to look at Nanami.

Nanami, straightening his sweater cuffs, exuded an air of absolute finality. "Takahashi is respectable. It suits him. ETA stands for Executive Trash Associate."

The raccoon, now named Takahashi-Clout Save-Feral Slay (depending on who you asked), chirped happily and shoved his tiny face into Gojo’s chest, burrowing close.

Except he was not actually burrowing; he was looking for skin.

Once he found it, he bit Gojo, who yelped and put him back on the table, rubbing his neck.

The baby immediately ran toward you.

And that’s when you realized he was in love with you.

Oh, not in a pet way. No, no. The baby raccoon, for reasons known only to himself and whatever god oversaw creatures of chaos, had decided that you were his one true love.

Your fate was sealed the moment you fed him milk.

"You’re his mom now," Gojo declared, delighted.

Nanami was hiding a smile behind his mug.

The raccoon, completely serious, squeaked and nuzzled closer to you, heart and soul dedicated to his cause.

Except for the fact that, beneath your ribs, your unborn child shifted again.

This time, it hurt, and your face twitched.

Nanami saw.

Gojo saw.

Their amusement faded instantly.

But you, determined to keep your composure, simply reached for the glass of milk—

And slid it across the table.

Towards Gojo.

Without a word.

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to protest. But he didn’t.

Instead, he just took the glass.

And drank.

Because if there was one unspoken rule in this house—

It was that they would have to do anything for your forgiveness, and you wanted to test that theory.

You spent most of the day curled up on the couch, flipping through a book, deliberately ignoring how they hovered like ghosts of their own making.

Nanami busied himself in the kitchen, reorganizing the medicine cabinet so that your prenatal vitamins sat front and center—impossible to miss, impossible to ignore.

Gojo, restlessly, moved in and out of the room, each time bringing something new—first, a blanket. Then, pillows. Then, a heating pad, which he placed beside you with careful hands, his voice soft.

"For your back," he murmured, stepping away as soon as he saw the distinct lack of response.

You did not acknowledge him.

You did not acknowledge any of them.

Except, at one point, you finally shifted—moving toward the new-looking foot massager sitting in the corner.

And like a cursed spirit sensing weak prey, Gojo materialized.

"Let me help," he said, already fiddling with the controls.

You narrowed your eyes.

This was your favorite part.

Gadgets were your thing. You were the tech CEO.

Was he mansplaining?

A slow inhale.

A calculated exhale.

You were two seconds from walking away when something caught your eye. Something... off.

Your gaze narrowed at his head. "Why is this video call enabled?"

Silence.

Gojo’s hand froze mid-button press.

Nanami, standing by the counter with Takahashi in his arms, went perfectly still—then, very deliberately, took a step back, adjusting his grip on the raccoon as if he were getting comfortable to watch something catastrophic unfold. Something he’d warned Gojo about.

Gojo, caught like a rat in a cage, let out a nervous laugh. "Ahh... well... you know, in case of emergencies—"

You stared at him.

He sweated.

Then, you looked at the camera angle.

It was positioned near your foot.

If you ever used this thing, all your fifty double chins and ginormous stomach would make a guest appearance on whatever poor sap you graced with your face.

You blinked.

Gojo took a step back.

Nanami—who had stayed silent this entire time—took Takahashi’s tiny paw and slowly high-fived it, as if they were both watching history in the making.

You ignored him and sighed in relief when the machine began working on your swollen feet.

---

You didn’t realize what day it was until Gojo set a small box in front of you at lunch.

You stared at it.

His fingers drummed against the table, uncharacteristically nervous. "Just… something we got a while ago. For today."

Nanami exhaled. "It’s Valentine’s Day."

And you—

You laughed.

Before you even fully processed the words, before your mind could catch up to your mouth, your body rejected the notion so violently that it left you breathless, doubled over in sheer, uncontrollable mirth.

"Who gives a shit?"

Valentine’s Day? Valentine’s Day?

You had lost track of dates entirely. You had spent months alone, unheard, unseen. A single holiday didn’t matter.

Your laughter twisted into something raw, something ugly, something just shy of manic.

Then your eyes flicked to them.

And they looked...

Genuinely hurt??

A moment of disbelief cracked through your amusement. Since when did men start caring about things like this? Especially after ignoring you on your anniversary—a day you had actually built with them.

Your laugh pitched higher, bubbling over again.

Confused? Disbelieving? Maybe just psychologically broken? Unhinged? Who the hell knew anymore?

Gojo leaned forward, blue eyes searching yours. "We know we messed up. We know you don’t forgive us yet. And we’re not expecting you to."

Nanami’s voice, steady as always, followed. "But we want to do better. Every day. Whether you believe us or not, we’ll prove it."

Your chest tightened.

Your fingers twitched, but you didn’t reach for the box.

You didn’t push it away, either.

Gojo took that as permission and nudged it closer, his fingers brushing against yours. "Come on, open it."

A sigh slipped through your lips—quiet, almost reluctant. And then, finally, you lifted the lid.

Your breath caught.

A Canon EOS R1, the latest mirrorless DSLR. Pristine build. Four lenses—RF 100-500mm f/4.5-7.1L IS USM, RF 24-70mm f/2.8L IS USM, TS-E 50mm F2.8 L Macro. High-end, thoughtful, expensive as hell.

This wasn’t just an apology gift—this was specific.

They had remembered. Somehow, through all their fuck-ups and negligence, they had still managed to retain one crucial piece of information—your preferred camera brand.

Your fingers grazed the smooth body, and something stirred in your chest.

It had been so long.

Too long.

And—before you could stop yourself—you started word vomiting.

"First of all, this lens is unnecessary." You pointed at one. "I only take portraits. Most of the time, the subject is close to me, and if it’s a stray cat, then—okay, fine, I’d use a zoom lens. But even then, the cat would run away before I could switch the damn thing, so I used to walk around with a zoom lens anyway. Then again, this new model is way faster, sharper—and it also has better pet eye focus, so Clout can be in his element without me having to hold him down and still end up with shaky photos—”

You looked up and stopped.

They were smiling.

Like fools.

Like absolute, pathetic fools.

Your frown deepened. Why?

Gojo snapped out of his daze and scratched the back of his head, grinning. "We, uh—"

"We don’t really know much about this stuff," he admitted, shrugging. "But we know you love it. And we thought maybe, y’know..." He gestured vaguely. He was getting flustered because it was the most you’d spoken to him after months, and you hadn’t berated him.

Nanami, always the one to articulate better, leaned forward. "We thought you could take maternity photos. If you wanted. Takahashi’s too."

You hadn’t even thought about that.

You wanted to.

You really, really did.

Your grip on the camera tightened, but you fought the warmth creeping into your chest, resisting the ridiculous impulse to let them see that they had done something right.

You glanced between them. "But you don’t even know how to use this, do you?"

Gojo, pleased as hell, grinned wider. "Nope."

Nanami sighed, patient. "No, but we can learn if… you’re willing to teach..."

Your lips twitched.

You didn’t outright accept their gift, but you didn’t reject it either.

And they saw it.

The way you lingered over the camera. The way your fingers drifted to adjust the settings, the way your expression softened—just a fraction—as you tested the weight in your hands.

They took it as a win.

---

Thirty minutes later, your laptop sat open in your home office, Behance boards filling the screen—soft, dreamy maternity shoots, golden hour lighting, flowy dresses—

And then, a sharp left turn into gothic drama.

Dark veils. Heavy shadows. The Morticia Addams aesthetic. For some reason, your mind went there. The twins kicked softly, and you took that as agreement.

Your fingers moved with purpose—envisioning details.

Clout Save blissfully chewed the corner of your screen. You didn’t even bother stopping him. You had given up on that battle long ago.

Nanami noticed first.

He set a plate of cut fruit beside you, silent for a moment. Then he asked, "Need anything for the shoot?"

He was trying hard not to remember how he used to sit in this very room, hands shaking, drowning in thoughts he refused to name. How, after you had disappeared, he had spent hours here, alone—desperate, unraveling, harming himself, dangerously close to doing something irreversible.

But you were here now.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t still terrified you’d disappear again.

You hesitated, then barely mumbled, "A few things."

Nanami exhaled, slow and careful, keeping his voice light. "Prepare a list. Let’s leave in an hour. Do you want clothes or other things too? Like something for Takahashi or..." He paused, and then—softly, deliberately—he dropped the N-word.

"The nursery."

Your hands froze over your keyboard.

Your entire body stilled.

You squinted at your screen, refusing to make eye contact with him.

The nursery.

That plague you had been actively avoiding.

Your teeth clenched.

Fine. Fine.

Megumi hadn’t called, which meant things on his end were fine. You had nothing else to do anyway.

"Fine," you said, your tone final. "But I will drive."

---

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo, pacing in the other room, had his phone pressed to his ear.

"Is mania common in pregnancy?" he demanded, his voice serious. "We told her it was Valentine’s Day, and she just started laughing—like, actually losing her mind, saying ‘who gives a shit.’"

A pause.

"She never reacted like this before. She used to be busy with work, but she still planned dinner dates, even went overboard with gifts sometimes—"

Shoko, on the other end, giggled.

"I’d laugh too, bro."

Then the line cut.

Gojo stood there, scowling.

---

Forty-five minutes later, nothing fit your six-months-pregnant-with-twins body.

The rest of your clothes were too formal for the amount of walking you’d have to do.

So—without a word—you stole Gojo’s sweatshirt and Nanami’s overcoat.

The fit was loose, but you looked good. Expensive. Like some hot tomboy off-duty CEO.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Smirked.

Then grabbed your keys and left the house, leaving the housekeeping staff to stay until you returned.

---

The Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut purred to life as you slid into the driver’s seat. There was a reason you hadn’t driven your favorite car since you got pregnant, and the men were about to learn it the hard way.

Gojo got in next to you, pouting. He had wanted to drive.

The fucker had always had his eyes on your cars, but you were no longer letting him touch them.

You’d usually just give in and let him drive, even though driving was something that soothed you. It gave you a small feeling of being in control and provided that little adrenaline hit in your otherwise overbooked, responsibility-packed life.

And Nanami, in the back, was even more annoying. The dude was obsessed with playing chauffeur, insisting on picking you up and dropping you off everywhere like some kind of overprotective GPS. Meanwhile, your cars were just chilling at home, collecting dust and probably crying from neglect.

The only ‘action’ they got was either when they were being maintained or when Gojo got Ijichi to drive him to his missions in your sweet babies while he lounged in the back like some prince.

Not today.

Clout Save was left at home, much to his dismay. You still didn’t have a seatbelt for him.

Then, without warning—

You shifted gears and slammed the gas pedal.

The car shot forward like a goddamn rocket.

It wasn’t just a car; it was the fastest production car in the world. A machine designed to dominate, to devour pavement, to leave everything in the dust—including common sense and self-preservation.

And you were behind the wheel.

Six months pregnant. With horror twins.

Gojo’s entire soul left his body.

Nanami, who had been reaching for his seatbelt, yanked it as if it were the only thing standing between him and a fiery death.

"Okay—okay—SLOW DOWN—"

You ignored him.

The engine roared, the car sliced through the streets, and the world blurred into streaks of color as you weaved—flawlessly, effortlessly, elegantly—through traffic.

Wind whipped through the open windows, tangling your hair, teasing at the loose collar of Gojo’s sweatshirt.

And Gojo was staring.

It wasn’t just the speed—it was the way you drove.

One hand steady on the wheel, the other shifting gears with Formula One ease. Your foot pressed down on the accelerator like you were testing fate itself, and you smirked—eyes bright, adrenaline humming in your veins, completely, utterly in your element.

Gojo swallowed.

Nanami gripped the door handle, jaw tight, knuckles white.

Gojo leaned sideways, his voice barely above a choked whisper.

"I hate that I find this hot."

Nanami was thinking the same thing.

Unfortunately, terror outweighed attraction.

"Slow down," Nanami snapped, his tone edged with something dangerously close to panic. "You. Are. Pregnant."

You increased speed.

The car growled beneath you, the road stretching open like a runway to insanity.

"WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO DRIVE?!" Gojo shouted, his voice cracking as you narrowly dodged a car, slipping through a gap that shouldn’t have existed.

You smirked.

Shifted gears.

Glanced at him through half-lidded eyes, as if this was the most natural conversation in the world.

"Toji."

Gojo turned ashen.

Nanami let out the longest, slowest sigh of his life.

"Of course he did."

---

Everything was almost fine.

Until an oncoming truck.

A massive, hulking beast of steel and certain death.

Nanami and Gojo braced themselves, hearts hammering in their ribs, the realization sinking in like cold, hard gravity.

This is it.

She’s going to crash.

They were both yelling now, overlapping, frantic—

"SLOW DOWN—"

"ARE YOU EVEN SEEING THAT—"

You smiled, innocently.

As if you held a secret—like you were dancing on the edge of something dangerous and laughing about it.

Then—

In one smooth, impossible motion, you twisted the wheel, shifted gears seamlessly, and threaded the car through the narrow gap—slipping past the truck by mere centimeters.

Gojo and Nanami felt their lives flash before their eyes.

They narrowly escaped the truck, with only centimeters to spare.

The pinnacle of modern machinery stabilized.

The only sound in the car was the steady hum of the engine.

The men were panting.

Shaken.

Physically unharmed, but spiritually wrecked.

—finally—

Nanami snapped.

"What the hell was that?!"

You didn’t even blink.

Instead, you smiled.

"You both wanted to bring me back."

Your voice was smooth, effortless, razor-sharp with something dangerously crazy.

"So this is what you’ve brought back."

They stared at you, still too stunned to speak.

Then—casually, effortlessly, unbothered—you leaned back against the seat, adjusting the loose sleeves of Gojo’s sweatshirt, shifting your grip on the wheel as if you were born in this car.

And added—

"Besides, didn’t you promise you’d protect me and shit?"

The smirk widened.

"So protect."

Then, as if nothing had happened at all, you parked inside the mall.

Effortless. Precise. Clean.

Like you hadn’t just defied death at 500 km/h (310 mph).

Gojo and Nanami didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t dare look at each other.

You got out of the car.

Tossed the keys in your palm.

Stretched—unbothered, untouchable, glowing with that reckless, intoxicating fire in your eyes.

Then you turned, taking them in.

Pale. Silent. Processing their survival.

"Are you two coming or not? I might need some ‘protecting’ from the salespeople. And just so you know, I didn’t bring any money or have a phone, so you both will be paying for everything."

Nanami exhaled slowly, forcing composure back into his bones.

Gojo ran a shaky hand through his disheveled hair.

Neither of them spoke.

Neither of them could.

Wordlessly—like men who had seen God and Death shake hands—they got out of the car.

And followed you inside.

---

Bonus

In your old bedroom later that evening,

"You have to accept that I’m the bigger menace," Gojo said, watching as the raccoon kit attempted to wrestle a sock off of Nanami’s foot with the tenacity of a gremlin.

Nanami glanced up from his book. "He tried to suffocate you in your sleep."

"Okay, rude; I think he just likes climbing on my handsome face," Gojo shot back, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You, who had walked into the room just in time to hear this, exhaled sharply and turned around, leaving the room in a huff.

Gojo called after you, "Oh my God, you’re jealous—"

You slammed the door behind you.

ETA Takahashi-Mochi Blanc-Sir Snowdrop the Pale-Clout Save-Feral Slay chirped happily, victorious.

---

Memes Haibara bombarded you with about your mentally insane albino criminal.

Raccoon Headcanons, (I know one of these isn't one)

A/N: So. The raccoon needs a name. Since y’all are unhinged, I’m leaving it up to you.

Bonus 🔥 Poll: What would you do if Gojo installed a video call-enabled foot massager in your house? A) Use it for evil. B) Yeet it out the window. C) Let Gojo suffer. D) Accept that privacy is a myth. What’s your theory on the investor? Business move or secret villain?? Also, a lil headcanon: Did Banana Man (Haibara) see Reader in Ibiza, or was it a parallel mission? Discuss. Share your own headcanons about this story with me please, I beg.

Another Alt Universe for this story - Glass House (Tumblr/Ao3)

Next chapter will be out in a few days :P

All Works Masterlist

Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy @xx-tazzdevil-xx @unaaasz @thebumbqueen @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

Taglist Open.

[macbethz]

GAMES AS INTIMACY

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, Gabrielle Zevin // DIE, Kieron Gillen and Stephanie Hans // Disco Elysium, ZA/UM // Existenz (1999) dir. David Cronenberg // The Beginner's Guide, Everything Unlimited Ltd // Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow // Black Mirror "Striking Vipers," Charlie Booker // DIE concept sketches by Stephanie Hans // Minecraft End Poem, Julian Gough

[spacedlexi]

"sounds nice... having a partner"

[tea-cat-arts]

I simply think this fandom doesn't give Wei Wuxian enough credit for the various ways in which he saved Lan Wangji

[forbiddentaako]

the valentines day merch is DIABOLICAL I need to cosplay lucifer in that outfit RIGHT THIS INSTANT

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

k, m, n, t for pd and/or suck!!! >:33333

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

-> you know i gotta say wiwi. i have to. that character was Made For Me i swear to GOD . genuinely i cannot think about prime defenders season 2 episode 39 without feeling physically sick bc i love it so much. its the only one i havent relistened to since i heard it the first time. i KNOW its gonna make me cry again so i genuienly have not touched it even though theres things in there i need to hear again for character research. his arc is so like. narratively satisfying in a way that hits me so fucking deep to my core in an extremely personal way. and like. there were definitely some Decisions that i was REALLY ANNOYING about hating when they were brought up because im used to media with bad storytelling/creators that do not care about their characters but. looking back on it i would not change a single thing about it. i love you wiwi so much.

-> FOR SUCK.... its not over yet. so i cannot definitively say. campaign finale comes out tomorrow so my answer may change depending on that but for right now i think i gotta say arthur. i joke a lot about hating arthur for no real reason in particular but. man his story is just REALLY good. not going 2 give you suck spoilers (hehe) but i also really like how shilo has grown through the campaign. hes my little guy :]

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

-> TIDE. TIDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIDE TIDE TIDE I LOVE TIDE SO MUCH. thats my dad thats my best friend i love tide so much dude. every time he is mentioned or on screen i am just like :D HI TIDE I LOVE YOU TIDE

-> grefgore :] light of my life this is how i feel anytime i think about grefgore

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

-> CHARACTER STUDIES. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. I LIKE A GOOD SHIPPING FIC AS MUCH AS THE NEXT GUY BUT PLEASE GOD WRITE THEM IN CHARACTER. EXPLORE THEIR THOUGHTS AND EMOTIONS AND WHY THEY MAKE CERTAIN DECISIONS THE WAY THEY DO. this doesnt even go for just pd and suck this is like. true for every single fandom ive ever fucking been in. do you know how hard it is to find character studies in the danny phantom tag on ao3. nobody has even fucking watched the show how are they going to write character studies they just want (<< i cannot legally finish this sentence without getting in so much trouble) I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING MY FUCKING SELF AROUND HERE. ALL I EVER WRITE ARE CHARACTER STUDIES BC THATS THE WAY I THINK ABOUT CHARACTERS. I LOVE THEIR MOTIVATIONS I LOVE TO GET INSIDE THEIR BRAINS LIKE A LITTLE PARASITE AND IT IS ALWAYS SURPRISING TO ME WHEN OTHER PEOPLE DO NOT THINK LIKE THIS. (edit im just now reading through this and realized the question says three things. i did not process that. my three things are all more character studies please)

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

-> oh dude i have so many hmmmmmmm how to choose just one. i have a LOT of feelings about wiwis original death and i might write something about that when i can get over my shrimp emotions about him. dakota cole audhd truther but that ones pretty much canon anyway so i dont think it counts. vyncent and his relationship with growing up in fantasy world and then being thrown into prime and how he adjusted to that. I think he really lies shitty syfy channel type horror movies that are so stupidly bad. and also plays a lot of video games but again i think thats mostly canon already. i think tide listens to dad rock but also like. ocean man by ween. you already know about my william and ashe being each others emotional support at concerts. i think william and ashe should hang out and do emo kid things more. i also have a lot of feelings about ashe and coping with the crippling loneliness of basically growing up alone and how the pd becoming like INSTANT best friends was so much for him in sooo many ways. you already know how i feel about mark i am in the middle of dissecting him like im in a high school biology class as we speak. uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i know im gonna think of something really good after i hit the post button so stay tuned

[midnightwind]

hey do you think the Crows control the mage circles in Antiva too, in some way? do you think the heads of Houses get handed the phylacteries of their mage members? do they bring in trainers from the Circles, or send them to classes in the towers, or do they have to wait for a mage to "graduate" before they can recruit them into a House properly? or are mages who are taken by the Crows just quietly ignored until the phylactery needs to be used?