#but my last name??? when it’s right in front of you??? really ???

[fungateshortcakes]

Pornstar!Logan NSFW

This work is inspired by @bpmiranda and their own pornstar!Logan smut, which you can find here. Please go and check it out, it's so yummy and i hope I am doing this idea justice.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x reader

Summary: Up until now, filming a porn video was only something you joked about. But after your job failed you, this simple 'joke' brought you to a whole new carreer path that you would love to explore further, especially if your co-worker was this handsome man that ruined your pussy for everyone else.

Wordcount: 2.3k -ish

Warnings/tags: pornstair!Logan, pornstar!reader, porn with plot, first porn recording, filmed sex, best friends dad porn, squirting, unprotected penis in vagina sex, pussy pronouns, implied blowjob, basically sex with a stranger, dirty talk, doggy style, Logan is older than reader, cumming on pussy, perverted director, mention of threesome (F/F/M), english isn't my first languange (lmk if i missed something!)

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It had always been a joke. All of this - you just joked about it. But now as you stood in front of this building, the filming location, that's when you truly knew that it was in fact not a joke anymore.

You were about to cast in your first professional porn video.

For years you had been telling your friends, if your degree didn't work out, you'd start selling nsfw art. If your job applications would keep getting rejected, you would become a stripper. It was always something you and your friends could laugh about greatly, but it was never really taken serious in the end. That was about to change.

Throughout the last months, you had taken this career path more and more into your field of interest. Your hated your job, the salary, the people there and your boss. You needed a quick change. So you read about becoming a porn actress, watched interviews with stars of this industry, stating how they got into it, what they had to do, how they coped with everything at the start and much more. You felt ready, but you also didn't really, not when you stood in front of this building and knew that in just an hour, you would be having a stranger pounding his cock into your pussy while everyone around watched.

You took a deep breath as you entered and upon stating your name at the reception desk, you were brought to the second floor where you were greeted by the director.

"Ah, there you are! You're (Y/N), right?" he said and shook your hand with a firm grip. He was the manager of all of this. He had been in this industry for years and sounded very nice from the very start. You felt comfortable as you stood in front of him. You nodded your head. "Yeah, that's me. I hope I am not too late?" you asked nervously, biting your lip. You really didn't need to leave a bad expression right on the first day.

He laughed and shook his head "No, don't worry. You're just in time to meet the guy you're gonna work with today. You're gonna like him." he said and winked at you. You had already heard a bit about the man that would, to put it as is, fuck you today. They praised him highly, told you that you should be happy to have the opportunity with him because he gets so many requests from porn actresses every day.

Richie shoved you through a crowd of working people to a cozy break corner for the actors. There he stood. And wow. He already wore his outfit for the upcoming video. It was a plain black shirt, a thick belt and rugged jeans, but damn. He looked good.

Upon seeing you, a smirk spread across his lips and he stood up, hands in his pockets. "That's Mr. Howlett. Your lover for today" Richie chuckled as he introduced you to him.

"Call me Logan, sweets. Nice to meet you, heard a lot about ya" Logan said and his voice alone made your pussy throb. You both shook hands and you told him your name as well. It would be a lie if you said you weren't anxious. Your heart was beating out of your throat. You were intimidated by your work partners looks and the fact that he was a lot more experienced in this field than you. He looked very charming and handsome, picture perfect like some famous hollywood actor. And you were just, well, you. You felt like you couldn't compete with that in the slightest.

The time you had to speak to him, get to know him at least a little bit before his cock was in your mouth, was limited, because you were pulled to different stations by different people left and right, getting you into costume, fixing your make-up and hair, even checking if you had shaved down there properly. It was all so much at once, but Logan was always watching over you, weirdly enough, reassuring you. Truth be told, he saw himself when he looked at you. He was pretty confident by nature, but when he first started out in this business, he was overwhelmed and unsure at first as well. So he felt deep sympathy with you, even if you didn't know that.

Now you stood at the set with your two co-stars, Logan and some other woman who you didn't know the name of because she was so minor to the scene. She was only there to play your best friend from college. Your best friend with a smoking hot single father.

Your nerves were killing you as you stood in the pre-build bedroom with your co-star. You took a deep breath and decided to go with the flow. You knew the script, you knew the movements and looks, so there wasn't really anything that could go wrong. Right? "Okay, cameras, lights, action!" Richie yelled over the set. Now there was no going back.

You flopped down on your friends bed with a sigh. "This assigment is killing me. We've been working on it for days now and we aren't getting anywhere" you scoffed. Your on screen friend agreed with you, voicing her anger towards the professor as well.

You started acting like you were starting to unpack your bag when you heard a car engine. Your co-star groaned. "Perfect, now my dad's here. He normally works longer than that" she said. You had never met her dad, he was always at work when you were over. "Lindsay, I'm home!" Logan called before he stepped into the room, stopping in his tracks as he saw you. The camera zoomed in on your slightly shocked face, taking in your agape mouth and how your eyes clouded over. You crossed your leg over the other as warmth spread through your core.

Logan smirked at you, leaning against the doorframe. "So, you are the girl my daughter has been doing that assigment with, I assume? Nice to meet you, I'm her old man." he spoke in his deep voice, extending a warm, strong hand out for you to shake, a knowing look being shared between you as he eyed you up and down, pratically undressing you with his gaze only.

The director yelled cut. You let out a nervous sigh. This worked out way better than you had imagined, but that was just the easy part of this whole thing.

Though, the second Logan pushed the tip of his cock into your sopping pussy with a relieved smile on his lips that wasn't part of the script, you couldn't care less about your insecurities or worries. The words you were supposed to say just came naturally with the way he fucked you open. "Such a greedy little cunt, she is practically sucking me in" he groaned, one hand pushing your head into the pillows of his daughters bed.

"You really needed this, huh? Needed a big fucking cock to pound your pussy. The boys in college just don't cut it, am I right?" He groaned, enjoying the way your pussy tightened around his throbbing shaft. How could a cock feel this good? Logan could ask you the same thing - how could a fucking pussy be this tight and warm and just sopping wet?

Logan watched your face being squished against the pillows, slurring your words while you drooled. He smirked. You were made for this, the camera was eating you up like this. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about using this video when he was at home to get off. He leaned down to your ear, his plush lips kissing and biting at the shell before he whispered something only for you to hear "What a natural you are. Gotta have to request you as my partner more often from now on, don't I?" he was whispering in such a hot, breathless voice, it almost made you cum before you even should. He could feel that. And oh boy did it feed his ego.

"Does it turn you on? Being fucked on your best friends bed? By her dad?" Logan rumbled in character, kneading your tits. It took you a while to get a hold of your thoughts and the script, so Logan used that silence to keep whispering in your ear how fucking pretty your tits were. "Y-yes! I...I love it" you slurred, your voice raw from the moans you couldn't hold back for the life of you.

Logan hummed pleased. "Oh I bet you do, baby. Already so cockdrunk for me"

Your pussy felt so good with the way he was dragging his cock in and out, reaching places inside you you didn't knew existed. It was funny to you - you were supposed to fake moan and falsely contort your face in pleasure - but you didn't have to do any of that. If anything, you needed to shut up. You were moaning so loud and so prettily for Logan, it was almost excessive. You just couldn't help yourself. Every time you tried to shut your mouth, Logan would notice and pound into your sweet spot. He couldn't have you denying him of your cute sounds.

Not long and the scene ended with you squirting all over his cock and the sheets. That wasn't initially meant to happen, but with the way Logan was fucking you, you lost control as your orgasm hit. Logan tried to mask his surprise by going off script, continuing to circle your clit "Yes, such a good girl. Keep making a mess for me, baby" he groaned into your neck. You squirmed in his grasp, the overstimulation too much as you felt him cumming over your pussy. He hadn't expected you squirting, but it served perfectly to make him cum like he hadn't in a while.

Richie yelled cut again and Logan let go of your hips, making you fall flat onto the drenched sheets, completely boneless. You could hear faint applause and a warm hand on your back. As Richie approached the bed, Logan was quick to bring you his fluffy robe and wrapped it around you aftwr helping your shaken form to sit up, shielding you from prying eyes. The crew was highly professional for the most part, but there were some creeps shamelessly goggling at the actresses, especially newcomers. Sometimes Richie was one of them...

So Logan had a protective hand around your back, sprawled over your waist to keep you pressed into his side while you regained your composure. You were tired and worn out, but in a very very good way. Your core buzzed with warmth and so did the rest of your body. Without realising, you leaned your head onto Logans shoulders, softly closing your eyes for a moment. It made his heart skip a beat.

"Jesus Christ, you two were really going at it, huh?" Richie grinned and clapped his hands together. "I am deeply impressed with you, rookie. The camera loved you. Didn't even have to correct you at all. Can't believe you haven't done this before" the middle aged man chuckled and tried to discreetly pear down your cleavage to which Logan covered your upper body a bit more, staring Richie down. You didn't feel all too safe now, especially in your slight dazed state. But Logan was there and somehow being able to nuzzle into him for protection eased your mind greatly. "You two can go and take a break. I have Mirinda, Mandy and Josh for the next sesh. But after that, I'd like to see you both in action again. Maybe with another woman as well, how would you like that?"

Logan declined for you with a slight bite to his voice, excusing you and himself after he had wrapped a towel around his hips and brought you to his dressing room. Richie wasn't a bad man. But he was far from being appropriate at times. It happened rarely and mostly only to actresses who had been in this industry for years, but they knew how to treat directors like him for rude staring not to happen. But you were still so young and inexperienced with everything, so anxious and nervous. Logan wanted to protect that. Protect you. The industry was tough and he didn't want you to break under all of this like he did in the beginning himself.

"Thank you for uhm...getting me out of there" you mumbled as you began to dress yourself again with the clothes you had arrived in. You chuckled to yourself as Logan turned around when you put on your bra and underwear as if he hadn't just conpletely seen you bare and ruined you for every other man.

He scoffed. "Not for that. It was the least I could do. Sometimes he gets a bit creepy, but he his decent. He doesn't do more than stare, fortunately. Still, I'm sorry you had to endure that on your first day. But that's, sadly, how it is" he answered, pulling his shirt over his head and you shamelessly watched his muscles dip and contract from his movements.

You buttoned up your blouse and shrugged. "I expected it, honestly. But you were my knight in shining armor, or lack there of-" you laughed and Logan couldn't help but chuckle alongside you. "- so it wasn’t that bad. At least the sex was good"

Logan smirked. "It was?" he asked with a cocky undertone. He knew that it was, but hearing it from you directly made his chest flutter. Not that he would ever admit that. You nodded with a hum, slightly chewing on your bottom lip.

"I have to say the same. You have a great pussy" he blurts out, making both of you laugh. "There is more where that came from, lover boy" it was very easy to be comfortable around Logan and it made you feel a little less lost. It made you feel like you had a guiding hand and you were so grateful that he was there. It wasn’t his job to be your caretaker, he wasn't getting paid to tell you how to do things or protect you from backhanded nasty comments from filming crew members. But you were glad he instantly took you under his wing like this.

You couldn't wait to shoot with him again

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I had so much fun writing this! Let me hear your thoughts, do you want a part two?

And don't be scared, there is also going to be more sub!Logan soon and a few fluff drabbles as well. Stay tuned!

[darnell-la]

What about Wade and Logan watching Vanessa and Reader pole dancing together and the boys getting all hot and bothered by watching?

note: overload — that’s all you guys need to know.

———

“Aren’t you excited!? Your long-time, short-time crush is going to dance in front of us tonight with my long-time and short-term fiancé,”

As soon as the two entered the bar, Wade couldn’t stop teasing Logan about the fact that this young lady he’s been crushing on for a while, will be dancing tonight.

“She just started yesterday, why would she already be on stage?” Logan sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe because she’s the hottest worker, right after my fiancé!?”

Logan glared at Wade, making him put his hands up in a surrendering passion.

“Look, don’t be grumpy all night. I wanna enjoy my butter pecan up there, alright? Good boy,” Wade patted Logan’s head before shouting out Vanessa's name to support her before she came up.

“That’s my girly pop!” Wade yelled out, making Vanessa chuckle as she danced on stage with y/n. Their session was almost done, and Logan felt drained. Watching y/n like this was going to be unforgettable tonight.

At first, he hated the idea of y/n being like this in front of so many men. That’s the reason why he came last second. Now he’s wishing he never did, with how hard and leaky he was from watching.

He couldn’t possibly go up to y/n without her knowing. She’d see the patch instantly. He cursed himself for being a perv.

“Hey, I’ll be right back,” Logan got up and quickly walked away before Wade could speak or anyone could see him cover himself up.

“Logan!? Wade sent me back here to come and get you! He said you’ve been all here for almost an hour,” y/n said as she made her way down the small hallway to the bathrooms.

After the show, it got dead, since people were only there to see the strippers of the night.

“Logan?” Y/n asked again, but he still didn’t hear her. He was too busy trying to focus on his release. “Logan, are you even here?” Y/n opened the men’s bathroom slowly, not really caring if she saw anyone else. She wanted to make sure Logan was alright if he was still here.

“Goddamnit,” y/n heard Logan grunt. She wanted to turn back around and leave, thinking he was having trouble using the bathroom until she saw one hand over the bathroom stall.

She squinted her eyes to take a better look, seeing how tight he was gripping the metal. The stall was bending in from how hard he gripped down.

“F-Fuck, just- Fuck, c’mon,” Logan groaned in annoyance, angry that he’s been going at this for what felt like days. He’s a mutant, so he should be able to last however long he pleased, but he wanted to release now. He’s never been this hard in his life.

“Logan?” Y/n said low, but surprisingly, he heard her this time. “Fuck-“ the man cut himself off and stopped instantly. “Y/n!?” The man panicked as he fixed himself up, but that was going to be hard.

He’s been leaking for who knows how long, and everything had made its way all over his hand. When he went to wipe his hand in his jeans, all it did was make him look worse.

“Yeah, I was just- I was just checking on. Wade told me to,” y/n said as she rubbed her fingers together, a bit embarrassed that she probably witnessed Logan, and an older adult jerking off in a bar bathroom.

“That motherfucker,” Logan mumbled as he began to buckle his pants. “I can, uh, leave if you’d like. I’m technically doing something illegal anyways,” y/n spoke about her being in the men’s bathroom. “No, no!- Just wait a second,”

Y/n stayed silent as she heard Logan groan in frustration and probably break a few things in the stall before he finally came out.

“Hey, Bub, uh, wassup?” Logan asked as he quickly walked over to the sink, not trying to make anything seem too obvious. “Just checking’ on ya,” y/n smiled as she scanned the man.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Logan?” Y/n felt the need to walk over to Logan, but slowly. “Yeah, Bub, just needed to take a leak, that’s all,” Logan lied as he turned around after drying his hands.

“Are you sure? You’re breathing a bit heavy, and-“ Y/n went on until she looked down at his lower body, seeing what his jeans looked like. They were basically drenched in one particular area.

Logan took a deep breath with his eyes closed, knowing he was caught and couldn’t lie his way out. He prayed she’d think he was just some man who needed to rub one out, but she kept asking him the right questions.

“First time watching the new modern women strip?” Y/n chuckled shyly as if wondering if this was even a joking situation. “You’re a funny one,” Logan chuckled as he fixed his shirt he noticed was sitting wrong.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed. Most men don’t know how to act when they see a pair of tits,” y/n joked, but that slightly bruised Logan’s ego.

“Seen enough tits in my life, Bub,” Logan said, right before he took a look down at her chest. “Oh, you have? Seems like a fun life,” y/n got a bit defensive at his response. She couldn’t believe it at first, but her response was out of jealousy.

“Ain’t too bad — As long as they come with a pretty face,” Logan said as he looked into her eyes with a head tilt. “Yeah,” was all y/n could say as she broke eye contact.

“You know you’re pretty, right?” Logan asked as he moved towards y/n, softly letting his hand rest on her waist. “Really?” Y/n asked, confidence suddenly being thrown out of the window.

“Oh, yeah — So damn pretty,” Logan placed his free hand on her cheek, slightly rubbing it as her eyes widened. “T-Thank you,” y/n stuttered, and all Logan could do was chuckle at how she got around him.

“Got me all worked up out there, hun. Didn’t know you could move like that,” Logan admitted. “That’s why they had me dance on my first day,” Y/n said, reminding Logan about that. “That doesn’t sit right with me, Bub. Don’t want you back here workin’ for a creep,”

“But Vanessa? She works here,” y/n said, but he some care. “That ain’t my girl, so what she does, doesn’t concern me,” Logan said, not wanting to sound rude, but he truly did not care about anyone else, but y/n.

“You, though? You’re my girl, and you didn’t tell me about this job — Wade had to,” Logan said as the hand on her waist tightened. “And, that doesn’t sit right with me,”

Y/n felt the need to apologize, thinking she did something terribly wrong, even though she didn’t. Only in Logan’s eyes, she did do something that would need some consequences.

“Gonna say anything before I do what I’ve been needing for the past two hours?” Y/n wanted to speak, but she couldn’t. She was curious about how far Logan would take this.

“C’mere,” Logan said as he pulled y/n into a bigger bathroom stall than the one he was in. Once he locked the door, he pushed y/n to her knees, making sure to keep eye contact with her soft eyes.

“Gonna need you to look at me just like that until I’m done, okay? Been stuck for the past hour with this shit,” Logan said as he reached into his jeans to pull himself out. He didn’t think about it, but y/n sure did once she saw his length.

He was long, harder than she’d ever seen anyone before, thick, veiny, and leaking more than an average human should be.

“Open up, Bub,” was all Logan said as he pushed at her lips with his tip. Y/n hesitated but soon opened up and took him in. She had stopped after a few inches, but he continued thrusting his hips until she was in as much as he thought she could take.

“Fuck, baby — This is exactly what I needed,” Logan rolled his eyes as he felt instant release. He knew he was close, but he wanted to last. “Stop gaggin, baby — Wanna last a bit longer,” Logan told y/n, but she couldn’t. He was too huge.

“Bub, I said- Oh my god,” Logan grew angry, but soon whined as her throat collapsed around his shaft. “Fuck, I can’t hold it, Bub. So damn wet and warm- Fuck,” was all Logan said before his cock twitched.

Y/n couldn't help but look up at Logan to watch him lose himself in her mouth. The main she let out as he spilled into her mouth, made him groan louder, and tighten his grip on her hair.

“Goddamnit, I’m gonna cum again-“ Logan struggled to say as his legs shook, and a second orgasm ripped from him. Y/n’s eyes widen as more cum filled her mouth, so much that his seed leaked out of her mouth. There was too much to take.

“Nah uh, swollen it all, or I make you walk out with it on your face,”

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. we ain’t spoke in so long, probably put me in the past. i can still get you wet, and i can still make you laugh.

01, CHAPTER ONE. OLD SPARKS.

ju speaks. who’s catching my word play for this chapter ooouuu.. i’m having so much fun writing them already and yes, maya’s gonna be a problem (i am just so predictable). pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. sexual innuendos. kinda content too? idk this fic feeds you all.

present day, may, 2025.

los angeles still doesn’t feel real.

it’s like a whole new game out here, and i’ve been telling myself i can handle it. going first in the draft was wild—i’d dreamt of that moment since i was a kid, but hearing my name called, realizing it was real, felt different. la’s been something else too, this city that’s both too big and somehow feels small once you’re in it. i’ve got an apartment with this insane view too. floor to ceiling windows, sunlight flooding in every morning, palm trees out front like something off a postcard, but it doesn’t quite feel like home yet. i guess i thought maybe it would by now.

the team’s been great, though. down to the vets, the coaching staff, the media team… every single one of them welcomed me like i’ve always belonged here, and that makes things easier. cam threw this party tonight to really celebrate me being here, not just another pr event, but like… i don’t know, like they actually wanted to get to know me better. her backyard’s all polished up. the gates hold up some fairy lights, and the smell of barbecue just tops it all off.

maya’s been around since day one, practically the second i landed here. she’s one of our coordinators—smart, organized, and just enough older than me. stanford grad, of course, which she’s mentioned just enough times that i know she’s proud of it. there’s something good about her. yeah, she’s good. she knows how to handle herself, that’s for sure.

nailea hasn’t been around. i thought i’d see her by now, maybe even catch lurking during one of my practices or just… run into her somewhere. i mean, i’m sure she wouldn’t quit her job because of me. she’s been quiet, out of sight. which is fine. we haven’t really talked since before the draft—if that’s what you’d call it. it’s probably for the best. i don’t think she really wants to talk anyway.

i’m mid-sentence, talking to rae and rickea about their pregame rituals when maya steps up, her manicured hand resting casually on my slouched shoulder like it belongs there. she laughs at something rae says, smiling, and i feel myself ease into the conversation a little more.

rae’s all animated, talking about how she won’t step onto the court without this neon scrunchie she swears by. i’m leaning in to give her grief for it when i catch something in my periphery—someone, actually.

nailea’s here. at my welcome to the league party, maybe just coming by to say she showed up. i’m sure cam would kill her if she didn’t, they got pretty close last year. she looks like she just stepped out of my memories, if you think about that memory everyday.

i suck in, turning in attempt to not make myself seen. then, rae, three jell-o shots deep and definitely feeling it, pats my thigh in excitement and grins wide. “nai! c’mere!” she calls her over, completely missing how i’m trying not to look too invested.

i bite my lip, turning my head back over. i see how she hesitates, and then she looks at me. there’s no emotion, not a single ounce of longing or surprise. she looks at me like i’m nothing. it hurts more than i’d ever admit, but at the same time, i get it. i don’t exactly have the right to expect anything else.

her eyes shift to the others, weighing her options, probably playing out how the entire encounter would go in her head, but rae’s insistence doesn’t really give her much of a choice. she flashes us a grin, though i’m sure it isn’t for me, before she slowly waltzes over.

my eyes follow her like some unconscious habit until she’s almost in reach. as she comes closer, i find myself sizing her up, cataloging the way her hair falls just right, how her shirt hangs off her shoulders. then, out of nowhere, rickea shoves a finger into my ear from my left, and i flinch, turning to see her arched eyebrows silently demanding that i lock in. i don’t question it—i do. a little bit.

“nai handles a good chunk of our pr. she’s doing game day operations this year too,” rae cuts through. she was on some paid internship last year, testing out every role the sparks had to offer to see what she liked. she moved up. got the job.

i don’t know why it stings that she’s doing good without me.

“we know each—“ i begin.

“we went to high school to—“ nai says at the same time as me, and i look at her. rickea is stifling back a laugh beside me, and nai finishes her sentence.

“paige and i went to high school together.” she says, and i stay silent. high school? is that all i am now? a high school buddy?

rae’s grin grows wider, and she’s so excited about it i can barely make out her words. “she’s so great, and basically our backbone now,” she says, nudging nailea’s shoulder. “if it weren’t for her, i’d be late to half my interviews, right?” she laughs, a little too loud.

“guess you owe her then,” i say simply, forcing a grin. nai’s eyes flash to mine, but they’re off me just as quick. i let mine stay, squinting as maya begins to ramble.

“and she makes my job way easier.” maya’s fingers tap against my shoulder, almost like she’s staking a claim. “you ever need someone to keep you in line, paige, she’s your girl,” she adds, smiling at nai, though there’s some unfamiliarity to it. i can tell that they know each other, just not well enough i’m assuming.

nai’s eyes drop to maya’s hand, just a quick glance, but it’s enough to make me hyper-aware of the touch. her gaze returns to my face, a single eyebrow raised in that subtle way that’s more telling than words. like she’s already put it all together, and she doesn’t need to say a thing. instinctively, i shift, shrugging maya’s hand off with a casual roll of my shoulder, trying to mask it as if i’m just adjusting my posture.

nai doesn’t react, but her mouth twitches, a hint of a smirk, there and gone.

she lets out a soft laugh as i lean more against the table now, and i caught the way maya dropped her hand to her side. “i think paige has got it handled.”

i raise an eyebrow, leaning back just a little. “could always use the backup.”

nai’s eyes flash with a quick, knowing glint as she tilts her head, that slight smirk of hers appearing like she’s been waiting for an opening. “backup?” she repeats, nearly cheerful. i hated her tone. “thought you were more into… side options than backups, paige.”

it’s subtle, just low enough that only i catch the full weight of it, but it lands. i let out a low chuckle, stroking my chin and licking my lips. “aight,” i say, swallowing down any reaction, “i set myself up for that.”

maya gives me a sidelong look, sensing the tension but probably not quite getting it. nai laughs softly, a quick, dismissive sound that shouldn’t hit as hard as it does. it’s almost like she’s proud of getting that dig in. i cross my arms over my chest, and for some reason, i can’t contain my own smile.

rickea jumps in then, catching the vibe—or maybe just rescuing me. “anyway!” she says, her voice bright, easing into some story about some mascot switch-up from last year nai had to handle. i nod along, pretending i’m invested, though every part of me is still reeling from nai’s words, her laugh, the way she looked at me like she had me all figured out.

but maybe that’s what she wants me to think.

the backyard’s emptied out now, save for a few stray bottles and a couple of plastic jello cups scattered across the tables. i slide the glass door open and step inside, the house now filled with some low music from a record player. i was planning to find cam, to thank her for throwing this whole thing together. but when i come into the kitchen, it’s nai i see, her sleeves rolled up, forearms wet, scrubbing out a vase under the sink.

she’s focused, eyebrows furrowed just slightly, and i catch myself looking just a second too long before she looks up herself, catching me in the act. she pauses for a moment, her hands stilled under the water before she continues.

“didn’t take you for the clean up crew,” she mumbles, a little low that i almost don’t hear it over the running water.

i shrug, poking my bottom lip out. “figured i owed cam for putting this together,” i say, eyes still fixed on her. “nothin’ like a little gratitude, right?”

she lets out a little scoff, eyes still on the vase, fingers working over the smooth glass, rinsing it under the stream. “cam’s got enough gratitude coming her way,” she murmurs, and i can’t really read the implication. “she doesn’t need more from you.”

the words are light, almost casual, but they land with an edge that sticks. i take a slow step closer, letting the sliding door click shut behind me as i stand by it, almost like i’m stuck.

“well,” i start, beginning to stroll closer with my hands tucked in my pockets, “maybe i’m here because i wanted to check in. see how you’re doing.”

her eyes cut to me briefly, unimpressed. “i’m good, paige,” she says, letting the vase drip dry on a towel, and turning her attention to the next one. “never been better, actually.”

“great,” i say, not breaking eye contact, even as she keeps hers on the dishes, hands slowing just slightly. “then you won’t mind the company.”

she lifts an eyebrow, smirking, and i feel my pulse spike. “company?” she repeats, cocking her head as she pauses, hands resting on the edge of the sink, she says, “i think i’ve had enough of yours for a lifetime.”

i wiggle my eyebrows at her. “aw, don’t be like that, nai.” i can’t help the laugh that slips out, soft and a little cocky. “where’d you pick up all this lil’ attitude at?” i manage to get a little closer with each word until i’m rounding the island. she knows i’m there, close, and trying to ignore it probably.

she sighs, setting the vase down with a clink that sounds just a little too deliberate before picking up the last one. “life has a way of teaching you things. people, too.” she cuts her eyes my way, just barely, still trying to act like i’m not right in her space.

“oh, so now i’m a life lesson?” i murmur, stepping so that i’m almost right beside her, leaning on the counter. “but you’re still here. helpin’ clean up my party.”

she hesitates, and i can see her jaw tense just slightly. “i’m here for cam.”

“cam, huh?” i murmur, my eyes never leaving her. “and what about me?”

she laughs, a little breathless, and it’s the first real sign of her softening. i’ll take whatever i can get. “you’re somethin’ else. you know that?”

of course i know that. she knows i know that, she used to tell me it all the time. she reaches to cut the water off, flipping the vase over on the counter to dry. “good somethin’ or bad somethin’?” i ask, inching just a little closer as i tuck my bottom lip between my teeth.

“depends on the day,” she replies simply, and i can tell she’s trying to occupy herself as she rearranges the glasses.

i smile, facing her as i lean an arm on the counter. “that a challenge?” i lick my lips. “you know i love a good challenge.”

she scoffs lightly, rolling her eyes but staying put nonetheless. “don’t think you’re up for this one, bueckers.”

“oh, i’m up for it,” i counter, following her every move. “in fact, i thrive on it.” i’ve managed to get so close now that i can smell the scent of her shampoo mingling with the faint floral notes of soap. i can’t help but notice the newfound lightness to it too, and i realize she must’ve switched out some old with some new.

“mhm?” she asks, that smirk returning as she finally looks at me. i love when she hums like that, like i’ve got her at loss for words or something. her gaze flicks down to my lips for just a heartbeat, but i catch it.

“yeah,” i whisper, testing the waters. “and i’m pretty good at winning.”

i can see the shift in her expression—the way her breath hitches just a bit. “and what do you think you’re gonna win?” it’s like it took everything in her to say that as she exhales.

i lean back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes fully, but my focus has found her lips again. “you know what i want,” i say, and my voice is almost a whisper. “i think you know exactly what i want.”

there’s a faint smirk on her face as she grips the counter. “no.” she says, seemingly very aware of my intentions as she shakes her head, but doesn’t move an inch.

i let my tongue swarm my mouth hungrily. “just one.” i practically beg.

she leans in, leaving a soft, fast peck on my lips, and i’m afraid it isn’t enough for satisfaction. she’s back staring, and before i get the chance to say anything about it, it’s like she already fought the doubts in her mind as she throws herself into me, lips crashing.

my lips press against hers in that familiar, heady rush that i’d almost convinced myself i’d forgotten. she doesn’t pull away—instead, her hand slips up to my shoulder, the same one maya had her paws on just a couple hours ago, and fuck i can barely bring myself to think about that.

my hand finds her waist, gripping just enough to feel her press against me, her breaths shallow, matching mine. i want to rip her clothes off and take her here, no matter how uncordial that may be, but the universe seems to have other plans.

she tastes like everything i’ve had time to reflect on, every memory i know she tried to bury. i’m rough, hands squeezing her waist so tight like i’m scared she’ll slip away if i let go.

but just as i’m getting lost in her, we’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps. we break apart instantly, spinning toward the door just in time to see cam step in, her eyes widening as she stops short, eyebrows lifting as she takes in the scene.

my tongue darts to the corner of my mouth as i place my hands behind my back awkwardly, as if to keep them from wandering. nai is smoothing out her shirt (the most obvious thing you could do in a situation like this), that guarded look slipping right back into place as she clears her throat.

“paige was just leaving.”

[alwaysthefool]

[Requested] Naïve MC/Reader x LADS (Xavier, Sylus, Zayne, Rafayel)

They realise you’re a little too sheltered when it comes to sexual/romantic stuff

Warnings: Discussions of purity, sex education (not NSFW), OOC MC. This wasn’t meant as suggestive!

Tags: Gender neutral reader, fluff?

This was the request, but I changed it up to exclude the mention of a club since the premise of short fics can’t address my feelings about the issue seriously… everyone has unique scenarios->

Xavier

As the work day ended, instead of waiting for Xavier as you usually would, you walked out with the new hunter you’d met recently, chatting merrily about your day. “So where we going?” You smiled, walking out the Association HQ.

“Your place or mine?” They replied, smiling back, looking down at you.

You didn’t think much of it before replying. “Mine, I guess!” It was just chilling while watching Netflix after all. You really wanted to check out this new horror series, but didn’t get the chance to ask Xavier since he was always busy, and you certainly weren’t going to watch it alone.

He laughed at that for some reason, so you laughed back, although a little confused.

You felt a hand on your shoulder right as you were about to leave the premises. “Ahem.” The two of you turned around to see Xavier behind you, a stern look on his face. You frowned at his expression, and also the fact that you didn’t even hear him follow you. “You gotta stop creeping up on people like this, man.” Your colleague sighed. At this point, everyone was aware of Xavier’s antics when it came to you (which is also what made it shocking to them that you’d agree to hook up with someone else).

“What did you mean you’re taking them to your house?” Xavier completely ignored the person next to you.

“Uh…”. You weren’t sure how to respond. Wasn’t this a normal thing? When you were younger, your friends would come over to your house all the time. Although oddly, they’d have to be approved by Caleb first. He never really told you why, though.

“What do you think, buddy? We’re Netflix and Chilling.” Your companion responded for you. You smiled at that, nodding. “Mhm!”

Xavier’s expression turned hurt immediately, and he bore his puppy dog eyes into yours. “Really, [Name]? You’re… doing that with them?”

For some reason, looking at him, you felt such guilt, you held his hand. “I’m sorry Xavier, if I’d known you wanted to watch that new show too, I’d have asked you instead!”

“Wait, what?” The two spoke in unison. The person beside you rolled their eyes. “Seriously, you’re saying you’d rather be with him in front of me?” Before they could continue, Xavier’s death stare made them throw their hands up in defeat and walk away, too scared to even murmur profanities within his vicinity.

“Hey, where-“ Before you could finish, Xavier turned your attention back to him, holding your hands in his.

“[Name].” His tone was serious, and his eyes concerned. “What do you think Netflix and Chill means?”

“Watching Netflix with chilled coke, of course!”

Xavier sighed, half in relief, half in tension. “I think there’s a lot we need to talk about. But for now, please just ask me if you want to watch a show, try out new Ramen, or ‘hang out casually’.”

Rafayel

“Care to tell me what exactly you’re doing, cutie?” That last word to come out of Rafayel’s mouth was laced with venom, and that irritated expression you’d become so familiar with was splayed on his face once again.

You looked down at your phone. “Uh, someone at work asked for pictures my feet so I’m sending them pictures of my feet.”

“Is this another one of your pranks?” Rafayel crossed his arms.

“No?” Right as you were about to hit send, he took your phone from you, deleting the pictures before you could stop him. “Hey!” You exclaimed.

“You might not…” Rafayel sighed, giving your phone back to you as he sat beside you, tired. “…not love me anymore, but doing this while you’re in my house is cruel.”

You threw your phone away, and turned to face Rafayel, holding his face. He turned away from you, driving daggers into your chest. “Hey, why are you mad? It’s just feet…”

Rafayel, slightly taken aback, let go of his anger and looked at you. “Cutie, do you know why they’re asking for pictures of your feet?”

You shrugged. “Maybe they like my pedicure!”

He put his hands in his head, letting out a laugh. Before you could respond, he squished your cheeks, giving your left one a kiss. You returned the gesture, kissing his right cheek instead.

“You really are the most precious pearl in the ocean. As much as I’d like to continue seeing this pure side of you, I don’t want you to get taken advantage of again.” He stood up, reaching his hand out for you. “Let’s go, you have a lot to learn.”

Zayne

Realistically he’d make you study medical and ordinary romance books LOL

Zayne wasn’t sure how to go about it, how to confront the person who he thought was the love of his life, on why he saw them dressed to the nines having dinner with someone else inside a fancy restaurant on his car ride home. Zayne swore it didn’t upset him much, and that he had bigger things to worry about, but the thought did not leave his mind until he heard a knock on the door.

You looked tired. You didn’t know why you went to Zayne’s house, but you didn’t know who else to talk to. When he opened the door, you almost thought he looked surprised for a moment before his professional face returned. He left the door open for you, and without a word, went to his couch, reading a magazine.

You were already upset, and felt like leaving upon seeing his behaviour, but you were also extremely tired. “I’m fine, thanks for asking.” You spoke sarcastically. Zayne looked up at you, and you expected a snide remark from him, but concern etched his face. He put his magazine down and walked over to you.

“Why are you crying?”

You didn’t realise it until you felt wetness on your cheek. Zayne helped you get out of your shoes and helped you sit on the couch, bringing you a glass of water. He was way nicer than the guy you met today.

“I…” You took a sip. “I went out with a friend to celebrate his promotion, but he was being weird.”

You cried and explained how uncomfortable you felt with him asking questions about you, holding your hand, and then paying for the bill even though you didn’t want him to. It felt wrong and disgusted you.

“[Name],” Zayne was serious all of a sudden. “Did you… go on a date without realising it?”

Your tears stopped. “What? No, I mean, I just met him as a friend.”

He took off his glasses, keeping them in the pocket of his pajama shirt. “You said he wanted to meet you alone, for dinner, at a fancy restaurant, because he wanted you to be the one he celebrated his achievement with. You, and not his friends or family.”

“So?”

Zayne sighed. “You may not know it but he took you out on a date.”

You sniffled, and Zayne handed you a tissue, keeping his gentlemanly distance while patting your head. “I did not want the first date of my life to be this way.”

“It’s alright. I’ll make sure your next one is better.”

Sylus

Honestly he’d take this very seriously, sit you down, and explain this stuff without hesitation, because it’s super important to know.

It was just one meme at first. Then two. Then the whole discussion was about things you had no clue on, making you feel left out from your friend group. You groaned, throwing your phone away on the bed.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Sylus speaks, looking up from what he was reading on his chair. You had nothing to do on your day off and no energy to go outside, but Sylus still wanted to be near you, so you came over and lounged in his house.

“I…” You sat up on his bed, and he put his book on the table, focusing his attention on you. “I was very sheltered as a kid.”

“I can tell.” He quipped.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, anyway, it means I don’t understand what a ‘one night stand’ or a ‘hook up’ is, and I’m too scared to look it up.”

Sylus, as you expected, didn’t judge you. “Why are you scared?”

“Because I think it’s too late, and Caleb would be disappointed…” You knew Sylus didn’t like it when you brought Caleb up, but this time, his gentle expression stayed, as he took off his glasses, placing them inside his pocket.

“It’s never too late to learn about anything, especially things like these.” You gave him a polite smile. That was nice to hear. You shifted, sitting with your feet off the bed, to be a little closer to where he was on his chair.

“Not to mention, you have the best teacher in front of you.”

Bonus:

A while later, Sylus put on his glasses, frowning while going through your group chat, unsure of how to explain what they were discussing to you. “Maybe your brother was right, you have some crazy friends.” He joked.

-x-

[haveateadude]

don't say yes, run away now

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ what happens when you invite Ellie to your wedding, and what would you do if she stands up?

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ i mention sex like,, once but nothing happens. homophobia and some white guy named michael.

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ I LOVED THIS IDEA OMGG AND I FINALLY GOT TO WRITE ITTT

I hear the preacher say, "Speak now or forever hold your peace"

There's the silence, there's my last chance

I stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me

Horrified looks from everyone in the room

But I'm only looking at you

You've wanted to get married for as long as you can remember. You have always dreamed of wearing a white dress, with your arm hooked around your father's while he walks you down the aisle, your whole family and friends sitting on those wooden chairs applauding as you kiss the person you love the most. Except, today is your wedding. And you don't think you want this. A little voice in your head is going: this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong and you don't love him you won't be happy don't do this don't do this you'll be miserable.

Don't do this

Don't do this

Don't do this.

"Don't move," you hear your mother say. You come back to reality as she zips up your dress. It's itchy and uncomfortable and you can't breathe. Is this really what you've been wishing for your whole life? "All done."

You turn around to look at your mother. You chuckle, trying to hide how shitty you're feeling, "This is uncomfortable."

"Oh, shush," She says, smiling. "Bear with it. You only get to do this once in your life—unless you divorce Michael and get married again. Which, you shouldn't because the divorce papers cost a shit ton of money. And he's a good guy, isn't he?"

You nod, "Yeah, mom. He is."

"That's good." She stops for a second, then looks at you: from head to toe. She's still smiling and it's starting to freak you out. "I can't believe this is happening. You look so beautiful, honey. "

"Thank you."

"You know, you scared me for a second. For a while, I thought you were a lesbian when you used to bring that girl back then. What was her name? Ella, Amelia, Bella…"

"Ellie?"

"Right, Ellie. You've invited her, haven't you?"

You nod, "Yeah. She's still a friend."

You don't know if liking each other's Instagram stories counts as being friends. And it might seem cruel, knowing you've dated her secretly in the past, and now you've invited her to your fucking wedding. But it didn’t feel right not to ask her. You've known her since you were in high school.

You take a deep breath, desperately trying to get Ellie off your mind. All you're starting to think about now is kissing under the rain with her, secretly passing notes in the hallway, laughing in between kisses, sitting in between her legs while you read - just quietly existing in each other's presence without having to make it sexual. This is the moment you realize you've never felt this way with Michael. He makes you smile and he kisses you when he comes home from work. But he never laughs during sex, and he never holds your hand except for when you're in public. He never whispers, "It's okay," ever so gently like Ellie when you cry; he never runs his finger through your hair like Ellie used to when you couldn't sleep.

This is the day of your wedding, for fuck's sake. Maybe deciding to marry in church wasn't a good idea.

A part of you knows that you've been longing for Ellie your whole life.

You were wishing she wouldn't come, but as you walk down the aisle you can't help but catch a glimpse of her eyes. It always seemed that you were connected—as if you both had a string attached to your pinkies. If she pulled—if she looked at the back of your head you'd turn around to look at her; if she walked to the room you would be able to feel it—you would fucking feel it. Right now you could feel the string. She was tugging at it. She was tugging and tugging and tugging and she would not leave you alone.

As you stand in front of Micheal you try to smile; he smiles back. Ellie is tugging at the string. She could always tell when you had a fake smile on your face.

The preacher is talking but you're not hearing him.

"Are you okay?" Michael whispers to you.

You nod, still smiling. With teeth and everything. You then whisper, "Yeah, I'm just overwhelmed."

"Me too," he whispers back. "I'm so happy, I can't believe this is happening."

You're about to reply when you hear, "Speak now or forever hold your peace—"

And then someone stands up.

And then your smile drops as you look at her.

Ellie has always been reckless, the little shit. She's always bold and brave and she isn't scared of saying what she thinks but still—this surprises you. You hear an echo of gasps around the place and all eyes are on her as she's standing. But she doesn't say anything. She looks around the room and then looks at you so you look at her. Tug, tug, tug. You can't help but feel like a helpless teenage girl in a secret relationship—this is what you felt when you used to look at her in a party, knowing nobody knew about her and you and also knowing you'll find your ways to meet up later. And then she blinks, and then leaves. Just like that. She walks out.

Michael's eyes are on you. It hits you, suddenly, that you will be married to him. He'll want to have kids and you will agree because that's who you are and then you'll be miserable.

"Woah," He laughs. Like this is funny. Like someone has just told a joke. "Was that Ella? Your mother told me that—"

And then your feet are moving before you can think of the consequences. People gasp again, now they're starting to stand up. You walk out, taking out your veil and heels, and leave them on the floor of the church as you run. You can't help but feel happy, free, proud. Especially proud. Like this isn't your secret anymore—like you could scream at the world how much you like her without being embarrassed or scared. Everyone should know you love her.

"Ellie!" You exclaim as you look at her. She's also running. "Ellie, hold up!"

She stops suddenly, turning around to look at you. Her breath is ragged.

"Did you just—what are you doing here? You're getting married."

"Fuck Michael," You breathe out, hands over your knees, trying to catch your breath. "I think I hate him and I—and I keep thinking about you. And I just—fuck Ellie. I can't marry him."

"You've wanted this your whole life," she says. She knows how much you've wanted to get married, you always talked to her about it. "You've finally got it and—"

And then she's not speaking, because you're kissing her. Her lips feel like home. Ellie chuckles and then you're laughing, too. You press your forehead against hers and you feel like you could cry. Maybe you are. She wraps her arms around you like she just needs to hold you.

"I'm sorry to break this moment," she starts to say as she pulls away, looking behind your shoulder. "But we've got a mad mother running towards us."

You look behind as you see that your mother is running as she screams your full name.

"Run," you tell her. She nods and seconds after you're both running for your lives, Ellie holding your hand gently.

"Thank god I brought my car!" She exclaims as she pulls her keys with her other hand. She unlocks the car doors and as soon as she gets in she starts the engine. You get into the passenger's seat. "I can't believe we just did that."

You laugh as Ellie drives until losing sight of your mother.

You know this will bring a lot of consequences and maybe you'll never talk to your family again. But well—at least you'll live a happy life and will never run out of what to talk about in therapy.

[the-badger-mole]

Zutara prompts: Stepping in front of the other to shield them from something/someone.

Please ☺️

Zuko was shocked to see his father had actually showed up tonight. It wasn't the first time Zuko was being honored for an accomplishment, and this wasn't even a particularly big win for him. Last year, he had won a Phoenix Crown award for his work on the score of the Painted Lady movie. By comparison, a golden leaf at the Yangbaechu Awards for his tsungi horn album was the equivalent of taking home first place at a school art show. It was still an honor, of course, but far fewer people cared. Still, his uncle had insisted on throwing a party to celebrate, as he always did (though Zuko suspected Iroh had only really meant to provide an alternative to the wilder celebrity after parties that usually took place on these nights). Tonight, Ozai had surprised everyone by actually showing up.

Far less surprising was the look of disapproval permanently etched onto his face. Ozai's face was twisted as if he smelled something terrible. He cast a judgemental look around the room in such an obvious way, Zuko knew that his and Iroh's guests could tell exactly what he was thinking. Zuko could practically read his father's thoughts. So disappointing, his son. Zuko had managed to achieve his own fame and fortune separate from Ozai's political and business world, yet he wasted his time and talent on movies with no prestige, and concept albums that most people only pretended to understand. He was friends with mostly B and C list celebrities- certainly no power players who could help Zuko move up in the world. Never mind that Zuko was making a living- a very good living- doing what made him happy. Ozai had never cared for his son's happiness.

Right around the time Zuko was beginning to wonder why Ozai had bothered to show up at all, his father met his eye. Then to Zuko's surprise, Ozai came over. Zuko down the last of his lava whiskey sour and braced himself.

"You're wasting your time," Ozai said. Zuko fought the urge to lower his head. He was as tall as Ozai now. His father couldn't tower over him to intimidate him anymore.

"I've got an award that says otherwise," Zuko replied through clenched teeth. "Several of them, in fact." Rage flashed across Ozai's face, and in spite of himself, Zuko cringed a little.

"Still a mouthy little snot after all these years."

"Why did you come?" Zuko demanded. "Since I'm such a disappointment to you, why don't you just leave me to live my own life?"

"And let you keep embarrassing the family name?" Ozai sneered. "It was bad enough when my brother turned his back on the company to start his little tea shop, but now here you are making a fool of us with your antics. Your sister is poised to launch her campaign for governor, but all anyone can talk about is what actress you're dating, or what foolish little superhero movie you're making songs for."

"Well, I'm sorry Azula isn't more interesting," Zuko said. "Why don't you tell everyone what she got up to in college? I bet the people would find that a lot more interesting than what I'm doing. I know that would defeat the purpose of you spending so much money to cover it up, but it would take the attention off of me."

"I see your success has made your forget to be humble. I ought to remind you." Ozai scowled at Zuko. His hand flexed at his side, as if he were going to strike his son. It wouldn't be the first time, but would he really dare in front of so many witnesses?

"There you are!" Zuko and Ozai jumped in surprise when Katara appeared at his side. Katara had a wide smile on her face, but her sharp eyes were on Ozai in a way that Zuko knew was a warning. "You can't spend your entire party tucked up in a dark corner. At least not without me. So, catch me up. What are we talking about?"

"This is family business," Ozai sneered at her. "Why don't you go find some paparazzi to pose for."

"Maybe some other time," Katara's smile never wavered, but her eyes grew sharper.

"Do you know who I am?" Ozai sputtered, affronted.

"I do know who you are," Katara said, crossing her arms. She stepped forward, and drew up to her full height (which still left her a good half a head shorter than Ozai, even in heels), and glared at him directly. She stood in front of Zuko protectively. "I know exactly who you are, and I don't like you."

"As if I care what some tarty little slut thinks," Ozai sneered. "I'm talking to my son, so leave us alone, or I'll-" Before Ozai could finish his threat, Katara had grabbed his arm and thrown him over her shoulder. He landed on his back with a body rattling thud. The air left his lungs in a whoosh and all Ozai could do was groan weakly.

"I've taken Southern Tribe style martial arts since I was a kid," Katara said, leaning over Ozai. "I know exactly how to handle bullies like you. Now, I have on good authority that you're trespassing, so I'd suggest you leave before I really have to get tough on you."

Ozai managed to stumble onto his feet. He glowered down at Katara. She stared back at him defiantly. He seemed to be about to retaliate, but then he saw Zuko standing behind her with a dark, challenging look on his face. Then Ozai noticed that the other partiers had stopped their talking and dancing and were now watching him with various degrees of warning on their faces. Then he saw the security guards standing at the perimeter of the room as if they were waiting for a signal. For the first time in Zuko's life, Ozai looked a bit scared. Finally, he straightened his jacket and sniffed haughtily at Zuko and his friends, and left without another word.

After a few minutes, the party atmosphere returned. A handful of Zuko's friends came up and checked in on him to make sure he was okay, but after some brief reassurances, they returned to their conversations and drinks and Zuko was once again surrounded by the lively sounds of his friends having fun. Katara slipped her arm through his.

"I'm sorry if I went too far," she murmured. Zuko leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"No, you were spectacular," he assured her. "I didn't think I could be any more attracted to you, but I stand corrected."

[cherryrikis]

BETTER LUCK TOMORROW - three ! breaking principles

pairing : nishimura riki x reader

synopsis : after being in the wrong place at the wrong time, you (as well as your friends), were framed for the death of your brother and disappearance of your boyfriend. you all had no hope. no job, no money, none of you were even allowed to graduate. at least, until a stubborn kid on a dance scholarship suddenly acts as your savior, riki helps clear your name all for the sake of a school project.

this episode contains the following : 0.5k wc, swearing, mentions of death, court dates, house arrest, violating parole, and juvie + jail

authors note - these last few days were so busy cz halloween, school, (and the dodgers winning the ws!!) all that stuff😭

previous | masterlist | next

the two stood in front of your house.

despite jungwon telling riki not to do so, he knew there was no point in trying to change his mind.

you weren’t hard to find, because they knew you still lived with your family (aka heeseungs old house). so riki didn’t hesitate to drive straight to your place.

but he did hesitate to ring the doorbell.

jungwon watched as riki reached out, before drawing his hand back every few seconds. he grew so tired of standing in the hot sun, until eventually pressing the button himself.

they expected your mom or your other older brother to answer, literally anyone but you.

“oh, jungwon? i was wondering who was at the door. well, wow. this is.. this is really awkward. you haven’t come by since the funeral.” you coughed.

“hi yn.” he smiled. “i know, it’s been a while.”

“whos this?” you ask, pointing your head in riki’s direction.

“what? seriously? i was one of heeseungs friends. i came around just as often as jungwon!” he exclaimed.

“im sorry, i don’t remember all of my brothers- i mean, heeseung. i don’t remember all of heeseungs friends. but, look. i get that it’s been a while since we’ve all met, but i think you guys should go.”

“wait yn!” jungwon called out right before you closed the door.

“don’t you wanna know why we’re here?” he asked.

you frowned slightly as you thought on the matter, before nodding your head.

“fine, go ahead.” you sighed.

“senior project. you remember, don’t you? for college apps-” “i never got to apply. i wasn’t even allowed to graduate.” you said sternly, cutting riki off. “you remember, don’t you?”

riki turned with wide eyes to face jungwon for an idea on what to say next, but jungwon only mouthed the words ‘hurry before she tells us to leave again’.

“we want to reinvestigate that issue before your next court date because-”. he cleared his throat aggressively as he carefully chose the next few words. “because we heard you violated your parole.” riki swallowed, but it wasn’t enough. his face fell as he watched your expression change.

“you’re saying you think you can solve my case for your final project? nice fucking try you two, but not even my lawyer could help me out as you can see here.” you scoffed, before sticking your leg out from behind the door, to point out the ankle monitor you wore.

“house arrest. huh.” riki muttered.

“it’s worth a shot. we might be able to prevent you from being incarcerated again. and clear any charges from your record if we can prove it wasn’t you.” jungwon stepped in, beginning to ramble.

“yeah. jungwons mom is an attorney! and his sister is studying law.” riki smiled. but, he paused when you raised your hand in a way that screamed the words ‘stop talking’.

“listen, as much as i appreciate the gesture, i think im the last person you want to free. everyone’s seen me as the person who killed her brother and boyfriend, for the last 3 years. nothing else. if you want answers, go interview one of the others who were framed. aeri got out around the same time as me.”

“but yn- you were lucky you only got juvie! even after you turned 18. if this next court session doesn’t go well, you could go into like, a real jail!” riki exclaimed with wide eyes.

“goodbye riki. nice seeing you jungwon.” you nod, before slamming the door in their faces.

“well that couldn’t have gone any worse.” he sighed.

“you know what, im going home. i still have that french exam to study for. but uh- i have some theories. i’ll see you around man.” jungwon huffed, patting riki on the shoulder before he walked off your front porch.

riki followed without a second thought, before they both eventually split ways.

taglist ! @jiiyen @prettiestgirlontheplanet @hannicorpse @wonsboo @murazbae @stilesks @soobinbunnie5 @blvengene @r1kification @gyuvision @goldenmellow @ariluvssssss100 @who-tf-soddhi @mmurazz @jaemified @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @heartheejake @hoonsdrnkdzd @wonkixo @yangjungwonnie @tya0

[mind-intheclouds342]

The perfect one - Trans Curly x Reader

Warning: Smutty!

To you, he was the best man you could have ever met, tall, blonde, with blue eyes, his beard tickled you every time you kissed him, his hands were big and perfect for holding your face, kind, compassionate, and you could keep naming many other qualities of his.

After so many failed relationships, you felt that you had finally met the right person for you. 

Maybe the only bad thing you could say about him was his job, which meant he was away too much, but in the last few months you were dating, there wasn't a day when you didn't receive a call from him and he would tell you how everything was going.

While you were waiting at the mall for their arrival to meet, someone had approached you. 

He looked familiar when you gave him a glance, until you realized he was a friend of Curly's, whom you had only seen in photographs. 

Jimmy: "Aren't you (Y/n)? Curly's girlfriend?"

"Um- yeah, it's me..." 

You nodded somewhat nervously at the man's sudden closeness. 

Jimmy: "Are you gay?"

"Excuse me?"

That question had caught you completely off guard. 

Jimmy: "Sure you are, otherwise you wouldn't be with Curly, right?" 

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

Jimmy: "You know, because he is a woman."

"Eh?"

Every word that came out of his mouth only made you feel more and more confused. 

Jimmy: "Didn't you know? He may look like a man and all, but he doesn't have what really makes a man."

"You know- I don't feel comfortable talking about this with you. I will kindly ask you to leave me alone and go away."

Jimmy: "Ugh, I'm just telling you the truth, you don't have to react that way."

He rolled his eyes. 

Jimmy: "You should be with a real man, I'm available if you're interested in that."

"No thanks, I would prefer to eat cockroaches."

You made an unpleasant grimace at that idea, but the thought of being much closer to that person for a longer time seemed even more disgusting to you. 

After rejecting him in a thousand different ways and having him insult you for rejecting him, he got tired enough to leave you alone. 

"What kind of friends does Curly have?"

You wondered, looking at the time on your phone, hoping he would arrive soon. 

And when you looked up from the screen, all you could see were yellow tulips in front of you. 

Curly: "Have you been waiting a long time for me?"

You melted at the sight of that beautiful smile he has, and the gesture of the flowers in a pot won your heart once again. 

"No, not at all, I arrived just a few minutes early."

You responded by greeting your boyfriend with a kiss on the lips, happy to see him again. 

Curly: "Great, shall we go to that new café you wanted to go to?"

"Of course~"

You clung to his arm and, attached to him, walked together until you reached that place.

You took a seat, leaving the flowers aside, and after glancing at the menu, you decided to place  your orders. 

Curly: "And? Have you thought about my proposal?"

"To go live with you?" You smiled, playing with the paper napkin on the table. "I don't know..." It's still a bit early~ we've only been dating for half a year"

Curly: "Mmm, but we've known each other for two years." 

"But it seems like you haven't told me everything~" 

Immediately, his calm demeanor changed to a more nervous one. 

Curly: "Hehehehe, what are you talking about?"

"I had the strangest conversation with your friend Jimmy, you told me he was a good guy, but damn, he's an idiot!" 

Curly: "Oh- um- and what did he say?"

"He started calling you less of a man and those things, he even called you a woman, I thought it was a bit exaggerated."

Curly: "Well... About that..."

"...Why would you hide something like this from me??"

Curly: "I didn't know how you were going to react... I like you a lot and I don't want to lose you..."

"Fool, it's not worth hiding those things, sooner or later they come to light, and it's better to say them beforehand." 

Both sighed and rested their heads in their hands. 

Curly: "You're going to leave me, aren't you? It's okay if you do it..."

"What?"

Curly: "At this point, this is where everyone leaves... For women, I was never a 'real man,' and for those who like women, I was never quite a woman, so... no one was satisfied with me after finding out that I am trans. " 

"I'm angry because you didn't tell me earlier. Not because you were born a woman"

Curly: "...Are you not going to leave me?"

"How could I leave the best man in the world?"

When he saw your smile and heard what you said, he couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and joy. 

At that moment, your drinks were brought to you, and you continued your conversation as if nothing had happened, talking about your jobs and friends, catching up after not having seen each other for a while.

You had decided to go to his house, you wanted to stay for dinner and sleep with him. 

"Was that you??" 

You said, surprised, looking at some photos from when he was a teenager, before testosterone. 

The two sitting on the couch in their living room. 

Curly: "Yeah... They always told me I looked very masculine, so I tried to look as feminine as possible so they wouldn't talk weird about me, but I think I just looked dumber." 

"You were so beautiful! You have always been handsome your whole life, it's unfair!"

You buried your face in his chest and hit him a couple of times softly, until you stopped and looked at him. 

Curly: "There's nothing left" he laughed lightly as if he could read what you were thinking. 

"Can I see?"

He blushed a little at your proposal, but he was quick to please you and take off his shirt. 

You attentively observed his scars, carefully touching them with the tips of your fingers. 

"I love them" 

Curly: "And i love yours," he smiled, seeing how focused you were on his chest. 

He became somewhat curious when you started looking at his face and chest repeatedly; he suspected you were up to something and confirmed it when you bit his chest out of nowhere. 

That was the greatest show of affection you could give him. 

"By the way! You need to work on your friendships. "

You told him when you stopped biting him, he was lying on the couch breathing heavily from how you had attacked him, his entire chest and neck marked with small bites and hickeys.

Curly: "Can we talk about that later?"

He said with a sigh and his cheeks red. 

"Of course" 

You smiled to climb on top of him and kiss his lips. 

You felt his hands resting on your thighs and then slowly sliding down to your butt to squeeze it. 

You let out a small sigh between your lips, causing him to pull away from you. 

Curly: "Are you sure about this?"

"More than sure" 

You confirmed it and let out a squeal when he grabbed you to carry you, getting up from the couch ready to take you to his room. 

When he laid you down on the bed, he immediately began kissing your neck and slipped his hands inside your shirt, trying to unfasten your bra. 

You felt his hands glide over your body to take off your shirt, momentarily parting from your neck to get rid of it and then placing a kiss back on your lips. 

He gave you a smile before turning to your breasts to start kissing them first, then licking them, and finally dedicating all his attention to your nipples, one in his mouth and the other being massaged by his left hand. 

He sucked, pressed with his lips, and moved his tongue in circles over one, while with the other he gently pulled and twisted, making them hard, causing you to arch your back while letting out small moans. 

Curly: "You sound so lovely..." 

"I didn't know you could be so eager..." 

You laughed a little until you saw him run his tongue between your breasts and then down to your stomach, leaving a kiss on it before he started to take off your pants.

"Hey! I'm not a rag doll!" 

You shook your legs to prevent him from completely removing the lower part of your clothes, it didn't bother you at all but you felt a bit lazy letting him do everything. 

You finished taking off your pants by yourself, left only in your underwear, sat on his bed, and smiled. 

"You have more clothes than I do."

Curly: "And if we leave that for another day? It doesn't bother me at all to please you today."

"Pants down"

You said it almost like an order, crossing your arms.

He sighed to start unbuttoning his pants, and as he lowered them, you saw that he was wearing boxers, but what caught your attention the most was the hair peeking out from the lower part of his stomach. 

"...Jungle?"

Curly: "Don't say it like that!"

"I see that the curtains match the rugs. "

Curly: "Don't keep on with that"

You let out a giggle and pushed him, making him fall back onto the bed. You rested your cheek on his thigh, playing with the edge of his boxers between your fingers, then slowly pulling them down to his knees. 

"Oh wow-" 

You just said that and Curly was already covering his face with his arms. 

You had never seen an erect clit in your life, but you didn't mind it at all, not to mention the amount of hair covering that area. 

You couldn't help but lean in and soon take it into your mouth to suck it, surprised when he suddenly lifted his hips and his legs trembled, perhaps you hadn't considered the sensitivity of that part. 

When you tried to pull away, his hands went to your head, pushing you against his pussy. 

Curly: "No, no, no, please don't stop"

And those words were enough for you to continue with the pleasure of that man, too immersed in his moans, not wanting to stop and even exploring a bit more by inserting two of your fingers inside him, giving him goosebumps. 

Curly: "Yesss, keep going like that- a little more- a little more and-!"

You could only drown your moan in his intimacy when his legs pushed you even more against him at the moment he reached his orgasm. 

Little by little, his trembling legs slid down your back, leaving you free, finally lifting your head with your cheeks red and your face all wet.. 

"Bleh"

You stuck out your tongue to get a hair off it, and both of you ended up looking at each other and then laughing for the same reason. 

Curly: "I think I got carried away-"

"Do you think so?" 

You murmured to lean over him and kiss his lips.

Curly: "Eew, you are soaked."

"Now you deal with it" 

They laughed as you planted kisses all over their face. 

Curly: "If you want to soak my face, do it like this"

He took your sides and pulled you up until your stomach was against his face, he started kissing you, tickling you, and making you sit on his chest.

"Hehehe what are you- oh my God-"

You let out a moan when he took your sides and ended up dragging you to his face, moving your panties aside with his teeth and inserting his tongue in an instant. 

You were definitely going to seriously consider moving in with him. 

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Late to Class

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Plot: As you are about to walk to lunch from class, Draco stops you in the hallway and steals the chance to have a moment alone with you. Established relationship, mildly toxic Draco Malfoy, Fem!reader, sex between two unruly students, etc.

A/n: So sorry for the long absence, lovelies! For all my Draco Malfoy lovers out there, here’s a fanfic for you! Enjoy! 💚🐍

Warnings: Smut, all characters 18+

“Alright, class,” Professor Flitwick chirped from his usual place by the front window. You sat in the back of the classroom, tapping your quill on your desk impatiently and waiting for the bell to signify your release. 

“Tonight’s homework will be to finish the anti-theft charm study that we will share with the class tomorrow.” Flitwick glanced up at the large clock on the wall, ticking away towards 1:00. “And that may be all of the time we have for today. Don’t forget!!” Ring ring ring! As he finished speaking, the bell at last proclaimed its dismissal, and the students got up and began filing out the door.

Luckily for you, the next period for you was lunch. You picked up your quill, books, and wand and slid them into your book bag. Adjusting your tie, you slung the bag over your shoulder and left the room.

You walked down the hallway, past the windows that were just barely tinted with the frost of late autumn. You were planning to head to the courtyard to meet your friends, just as you always did. Just as you rounded a corner, you slammed into someone, knocking you backwards and sending the contents of your bag spilling to the floor. A hand gripped your shoulder, preventing your descent.

“Draco!” you exclaimed, as you saw the familiar blonde hair and pale features.

“You should really watch where you’re going,” he scolded lightly. His silver eyes glistened in mock chastise. 

“Oh?” You replied with a slight smile. You reached down to retrieve your things, but Draco’s hand tightened on your shoulder immediately.

“Leave it.”

You stared up at your boyfriend quizzically. “What?—“

Not giving you a chance to finish, he guided you with a sharp turn into an empty hallway, leaving your scattered belongings behind. Your eyes widened in surprise as he pressed you against the wall. “Draco, right now…?”

“Is there ever a wrong time, my darling?” His said to you lowly. He kissed you and held your face in his hands, closing his eyes gently. Draco, sure the charmer.

The kiss became more passionate, as you allowed yourself to sink deeper into him.

When he pulled away, you tilted your head to the side in a teasing smirk. “Never can get enough of me, can you?”

“Oh, but my dear,” he said, leaning close to your ear so that his lips brushed against the skin there. “It is you who cannot get enough of me.”

A shiver ran up your spine at these words.

You found your head falling back as he kissed up your neck possessively, hardly breathing as you waited for what he would do next. 

Draco’s hands journeyed up your striped skirt and squeezed your ass, a gasp escaping your mouth at his cold touch. You could feel the metal rings on each finger.

Before you knew it, you were both standing naked in the hallway, you leaning against the corridor wall as you watched him grow harder by the second. Lust grew between you, the cold air freezing your breath and hardening your nipples. Then he slipped inside you, and all you knew was the feel of his curve against your walls and the sound of his deep moans in your ear.

Pleasure and pain coursed through your body simultaneously as he pumped in and out at a steady pace, making sure you could feel every ridge and vein of his long cock. Your hips bucked forward to meet him, Draco’s hips rolling in rhythm in response. You breathed out his name, willing the two of you to be quiet in case someone happened to be walking by.

Draco, internally, wanted nothing more than to make you cry out loud and long, so that your angelic voice reverberated to the ceiling and throughout the entire school. He wanted to feel himself come inside of you, as he fucked you with your hair mussed so beautifully and cheeks rosy. But not now. He would have to wait until tonight.

After several more thrusts that had your core tightening to the point of snapping, several more moments of sighing desperately into each other’s mouths, he finally pulled himself out, breathing raggedly. His gray eyes locked onto yours in the darkness.

“We should really get back to class.”

You didn’t dare look away from his gaze, heart rate only beginning to slow. “I suppose we should.” Lunch was long over, the ring lost in the fleeting moment. You had to hurry if you wanted to make it before the next bell.

Draco helped you to redress, buckle clinking as he slid his belt back on. Since you had the next class together, you walked there close to his side. Draco had an arm around your shoulder, like a gentlemen.

You got there only a minute late. Professor Snape, your potions teacher, peered down his long nose at you. “And why might the two of you be late?”

“Sorry, Professor, we were working on a project together during break and lost track of time.” You covered for the two of you quickly, holding your hands together in a sheepish gesture. A small grin curled at the corner of your lips, and you hid it swiftly.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Be sure you are more mindful in the future.”

“Yes, Professor,” you said modestly. As you walked across the classroom and took your seat, one of your friends turned around in their seat and eyed you skeptically.

“You weren’t outside during lunch. Where were you?” they asked.

“Oh, nowhere,” you told her sweetly. You flipped your hair and faced back to the front of the class. Draco Malfoy caught your attention and chuckled softly in your direction. Oh, they’d never know why you were late to class that day.

~~

[aziraphales-library]

hi there! I was wondering if you had any ineffable wives fics where one of them is trans fem. I'm hoping to find something that reminds me of me and my girlfriend :D any rating would be appreciated. thank you so much, have an amazing day!

Hello! Here are some ineffable wives where one of them is trans...

I only want to look in your eyes by orphan_account (E)

Crowley was laid out on the bed, her shirt off, her chest already flushed with eagerness. Her long, luxurious red curls spread out around her head, and her eyes - beautiful liquid golden things, glowing now with joy - made Aziraphale think of the sun. “Love,” Aziraphale said, and leaned over Crowley, down from where she straddled Crowley’s thighs, kissing her forehead tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.” Aziraphale rides her wife, and they're both so full of love they think they'll explode.

till love have all his rites by marveling_under_an_open_sky (G)

“Hello there,” a voice said. “Do you need a hand?” Crowley straightened up and began to turn with a firm rebuttal already on her tongue. She might be skinny enough to give a sunflower stalk a run for its money, but she’d been wrangling plants for years, thank you very much, and she was perfectly capable of— Jesus fuck. The author just really loves butches, all right?

Creative Ways to Use Your Planning Period by The_Bentley (E)

“We have an hour.  You wanna?”  Crowley whispered in Aziraphale’s ear before leaving a rather chaste kiss on her softly rounded cheekbone. “Here?  Are you out of your mind?” “No.  Nobody’s going to come around, and we can certainly make sure if they do, they’ll find they have more important business than opening up this door.”  Crowley was walking slowly into Aziraphale, pushing her towards the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, ideas forming in her head. When Warlock leaves for his lunch period, his tutors have some sneaky fun of their own.

The Art of Human Nature by IneffableDoll (T)

Crowley is a painter who has only ever had an eye for nature. That is, until a client named Aziraphale commissions her for a painting to boost her self-confidence, and Crowley discovers that her client is as beautiful as the Earth itself. Then she goes and catches feelings, because she’s a disaster.

The Diary of Ms A.Z. Fell, From The Age of Eight to the Present Day by punkbean (G)

"My name is Aziraphale Fell and I am a girl and I am eight years old. I am writing this for a school project to practice writing. I think this is stupid as I can write quite well, but I like Ms Smith so I am doing it anyway." Aziraphale's school diary quickly becomes a place for her to chronicle the friendship between her and her new best friend, Anthony Crowley.

A Common or Garden Romance? by die_traumerei (M)

A nature walk queer mixer? It's not Aziraphale's usual thing, but that's described the last few years, so off she goes, and even makes a friend. Crowley's not like anyone she's ever known before, and that's a good thing. Friendship turns to love, and eventually they even realize that, and so a life together beings to grow, in a love story that's very straightforward, and also anything but.

I recommend checking out die_traumerei's ao3 as they have a bunch of ineffable wives in which one of them is trans!

- Mod D

[justrainandcoffee]

“Good Morning” (Tom Hardy x fem!oc)

Part 1 of the series: “Only for tonight”

Summary: It's 2012 when Hannah received a call from an important executive to work with them. She's a great musician only until that moment she didn't have the chance to really show her natural talent. The BBC offered her the opportunity to finally do it and at the same time the opportunity to meet him. || Three years later, everything is very different. Two different realities linked by the same phrase: “good morning.”

Warnings: None. Although there's some angst towards the end. || This is pure fiction. All names are made up except his. Even in future chapters all filmography named here was invented. || The story is divided in past (2012) and present (2015)

Words: 2.7 k. || Remember that English isn't my first language. Please, consider leave a comment or reblog considering this is the first time i post this and still don't know what I'm doing 👉👈🥺.

Three years ago.

Hannah Murphy was born in London a morning in middle of May. His father was architect, her mother owner of a several beauty centres and her eldest brother was a neurosurgeon now working in Boston, United States.

Big things were expected from Hannah. Maybe being a doctor like Eric, her brother, or having a PhD in Economics like one if her cousins because first and foremost, the Murphys were successful people. Her grandfather, Mr. Andrew Murphy, was the one who designed the building for one of the most important corporations that existed nowadays in England. So, considering that everyone had their eyes on her, even as kid. But Hannah W. Murphy wasn't born with numbers and theories in her veins, she was born with music.

"You're wasting your life," her mother said when she was 10 and her father accepted to take her to a conservatory of music to learn to play piano. "Look at Eric, he's reading books that are for advanced students! And you're nothing compared to him, Hannah. Music! What kind of shit is that?"

But Hannah knew, even when she was 10, that music it was going to be her life. And she was right.

"Your daughter has a gift," one of her teachers said not longer after she started to study there.

But Greta Murphy, her mother, insisted on study something that could give her a name in the future and her brother thought the same as her. The only one who supported her was her father, Andrew Murphy jr, who was also the only one who went to her first solo in a theatre when she was 15.

Hannah was 16 when one of her plays, composed by herself, was part of a local play. Small, but it gave her some money and the hopes that her dreams could be possible.

Yet, when she finishes school, to stop hearing her mother for once, she decided to study engineering.  During those years, she didn't stop writing music but she just kept it to herself.

At the age of 23, she finished her career and threw the diploma in front of her Great. Hannah never worked as engineer.

Teaching kids and offering her music to different people who was interested in her talent, she was able to earn enough money to rent her own apartment and lm have her the freedom she was craving for.

Seven years later Hannah Murphy, 30 years old, was about to face the biggest change of her whole life.

She was walking Solomon, her black staffy and the most brainless dog in the whole world, when her phone on her pocket started to vibrate. It was an unknown number but she answered anyway.

"Hannah speaking."

"Ms. Murphy?" A female voice on the other side of the line made her stop walking.

"Yes?"

"Good morning, Miss Murphy I'm calling you in name of Mr. Henry Atwood, he wants to have an appointment with you, miss Murphy."

The first Henry Atwood that crossed her mind was the director and executive producer the BBC had and the brain of one of her favourite tv shows the last years. But the idea of someone calling her and saying that  that Henry Atwood wanted to see her was ridiculous.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. Who's Henry Atwood? and how did you get my number?"

"Mr. Atwood, the tv producer," by her voice tone, Hannah believed that the girl considered her stupid. "I'm his secretary and I got your number because he asked for it to one of the directors you worked with."

"Scott?"

"Mr. Scott, yes"

If it wasn't because she was in middle of a park, Hannah could've screamed.

Travis Scott was a director working on a play and he asked her to help his team with the music. Finally after several failed meetings she ended up working alone and the final result in Travis's words was "the best fucking thing he ever heard."

That was four months ago but she didn't know that he knew Atwood and even less than he was going to receive a call from him. Or his secretary to be more specific.

"Ms. Murphy?"

"I'm sorry I'm trying to understand what's happening… I- the answer is yes! If he wants, yes of course I can. I just need to know when."

"Great. I'll make an appointment, then."

.

Two days later a very nervous Hannah was waiting for Atwood in the waiting room. It was perfectly tidy, with magazines on the glass table, some flyers prompting the movies and TV shows to come and some from previous months. The tiles shone reflecting the lamps on the ceiling.

Hannah felt stupidly nervous. Most people there arranged things thanks to secretaries or managers but she didn't have any of those. She had a dog without brain cells and she was sure Solomon didn't know how to talk. Although she did know that the staffy was the best to calm her and right now she needed his comfort.

Hannah would remember that day for the rest of her life. It was 20th of June, 11:30 am and it was a  guy talking about the European football league on the radio sounding in the background when he saw him for the first time. He was wearing a white shirt and jeans. He'd have been any other man but he wasn't.

"Good morning," Tom said to her who was sitting in the chair next to the office's door, so still that she wasn't sure that was even blinking.

"Good morning," she managed to say.

Don't be awkward.

Tom smiled before walking towards the elevator "call me, okay?" he said to the other man.

"I will."

Both him and Hannah look at Tom go. "Quite a character," he said. "You are Hannah, right? I'm Henry Atwood."

Hannah was still seeing the corridor where he disappeared from their sight and Atwood couldn't help but chuckle.

"Tom Hardy," she said "It was him?"

"Yeah, it was him. We hired him for future our project. And I have an offer for you, too, But please first, come in."

Hannah called Betty, her best friend, as soon as she left the building like if everything was a dream. All was so surreal that she needed something to drink and to eat to process what just happened. Both women went to a pub, ordered beer and fish and chips.

"The main theme?" Betty asked. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I'm not!"

"Oh, my god! Your mother is going to freak out and probably pass out. Imagine her telling her friends about this."

"She's going to say that the BBC isn't Hollywood and no one outside England is going to see it. And probably she's going to say that the music is horrible."

"She doesn't know a shit about music."

"But she does know how to destroy people. Believe me, I know."

"Then fuck her. Don't tell her a word, better that way."

"I won't."

"But you already signed the papers?"

"No. I mean I said yes, but I need to make it official. I'm going to read it tonight and then sign them. Fuck me, I can't believe it."

Betty smiled at her Hannah couldn't help but imitate her. That was a good day.

Good morning.

Hannah was very tempted to say to her about her seeing Tom inside the building, but suddenly she felt really silly.  What she was going to say? Do you know I saw Tom Hardy today and he said good morning to me? Besides, it was something so random and something that Hannah believed that wasn't going to happen again that she felt unnecessary to say it.

Next week, Hannah returned to the BBC building with the papers signed and her hopes higher than ever before. Hannah was happy and it was good. Not long ago she ended a relationship that left her with debts, without her motorbike but with Solomon. The only good thing the bastard did was abandoning the dog in her house. Solomon was just an eight-month puppy, playful and sweet, but according to his ex, he was just a waste of money. As if he himself wasn't a waste of money and oxygen.

So these unexpected good news was exactly what she needed. And her first salary was more than welcome.

"There's a meeting this Friday. The whole team," Henry Atwood said. "Including you."

"Including me? But I have nothing to do with the cast."

"That's the point. It's not just the cast. There are always new ideas to add or to erase from the plot, suggestions, new plans. Etc… maybe you can create something even more great if you know what it's this about. Can you come?"

"Yes, I'm free, so… yes!"

"Good then!" Henry offered her a big smile and his hand to shake it "Welcome aboard, Hannah."

Hannah preferred to be one of the firsts to arrive there instead of being there late. It was her first meeting and officially it was also her first day at work. It'd be considered rude to be there late. Not to mention that the idea of people looking at her was something she wasn't used to. Not without her piano as shell, at least.

The meeting office was big and chairs and tables were in a circle so everyone could look at the rest.

Hannah couldn't help but felt nervous. The idea of working for them suddenly hit her in her face with fury.  On her first day at work, she had to leave the office and find an empty place to calm herself. She felt sick and she was hyperventilating. Her mother's voice in her head didn't help at all "You're going to fail, because you're a failure."

"Look at your brother, head of the surgeon committee of Boston."

"Your music is quite mediocre."

"Shut up! Shut up!" she said to herself resting her forehead on the cold window that was in that corridor. The last thing she needed that special day was her mother and her awful vibes with her. "Please, go away."

Hannah closed her eyes and tried to think about good things. Her dog, her best friend, her piano… she imagined herself sitting in front of it and tried to breathe normally again.

"Are you okay?" A male voice brought her again to reality.

Hannah gasped and back off surprised by the unexpected company.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry," he said.

It took Hannah few seconds to recognise that Tom was in front of her, but when she did it, she rushed to reply. "Yes, yes. I- uhm, I was nervous and I felt anxious. I needed to clean my mind. It happens, from time to time."

"Are you sure?"

Hannah nodded as Tom walked to the water dispenser and offered seconds later a glass of water.

"Thanks," she said smiling briefly.

People tend to see celebrities as deities, not humans. Because of course they're people but also, they're beyond of what could be considered approachable. Not everyone could be near one. And suddenly Hannah was few inches away from a famous actor that seemed to be concerned about her. Like, indeed, any good person in the world could be worried about another. Famous or not.

"I started today," Hannah said "I think my brain felt I couldn't do it."

"It's normal, a new job make everyone feel nervous. You'll be fine. You'll see. What's your name?"

"Hannah Murphy."

"The composer," Tom said. His voice denoted surprised and he smiled at her "Henry talked a lot about you. You're a little celebrity here."

"Oh, please, no! I'm just- I'm not. I Just play the piano."

"It seems to me that more than that. Were you in the meeting?"

"I tried to be there before feeling sick."

"Come on, Hannah. They'll love you, don't worry about it."

Tom smiled at her again and something in his reassuring made her feel better. Together they entered in the meeting room.

___

Now. Three years later.

The apartment was still dark, the windows were closed despite the morning was a reality. She could hear the cars, people… even birds. Everything was the proof that outside those walls nothing changed.

Hannah didn't sleep in the whole night in that bed  that now semeed to be awfully big for her. The empty spot.

She didn't want to cry again, but new tears appeared in her eyes.

Where was her morning kiss on her shoulder? The beard tickling her skin? The "let's stay five more minutes"? His morning coffee, too strong for her taste, but whose smell was synonymous with the beginning of a new day?

It's not like Hannah didn't break up with another person before… but never before everything hurt that way.

Tap tap tap.

Solomon was wagging his tail against the wooden floor because he saw her moving in bed. Against all odds, she smiled briefly. She pat the mattress and the dog didn't waste time to jump and snuggle with her in a single motion. His big head was now on her chest and she caressed it with her hand.

"You're hungry, aren't you?"

The animal looked at her. He didn't know anything about broken hearts, empty beds and tears. But he could feel her sadness. He'd wait for his breakfast until she felt better. Solomon settled closer to her.

It was 10am when she finally decided to go out of bed. The sun was shining, the city was indeed awake long time ago. Looking through the window she'd say that everything was the same. Only it wasn't.

Her phone was full of messages from her family and friends. Especially Betty. But Hananh didn't have the energy to deal with them, especially not her mother that for sure was ready to say that she was nothing but a disgrace, not even smart enough to keep a relationship with the best man she ever found. And for the first time in her life, Hannah hated the feeling that her mother was right.

She sat on her couch with a cappuccino mug in her hands and some toasts on a plate. On a chair on the opposite side of the living room still was one of his T-shirts, one that she stole from his wardrobe and ended its days as her pyjamas. She didn't use it for a while and she didn't want to touch it now, afraid that it'd smell like him.

The memories of the previous night overwhelmed her. It was her fault, she knew. For being too weak. Her mother was right, she wasn't like the rest of them, never was.

The sound of a new message caught her attention. She didn't need to see who it was. That was his ringtone, she personalized it long time ago.

Hannah took her phone and read the message.

[Can we talk? Ily]

Hannah pictured Tom in his house with his own dog next to him. His phone next to his nose because probably his glasses were somewhere where he couldn't find them.

She ruined it.

She received a new message from him.

[Pooh, let's talk]

Hannah broke into new tears when she read her nickname. No one before him ever called her Pooh. And everything started the moment he knew her second name was Winifred. Winnie. Hannah hated the name and she always used just the W, as reference for it. But with Tom, Hannah learnt to love her second name, even before dating. Or maybe it was because it was him.

Hannah called Tom.

He answered before the second ring, for a moment no one talked until he did "Good morning, Pooh."

[dandelion-wings]

Finally from the second whumptober list: October 29 ownership/branding - any character BUT the branding/ownership has to be something they're doing to protect the other person / Brand Or Die

Thank you for lighting my brain on fire with this one, holy shit. Sorting out who I would do it with was really the hardest part, there's so much potential, especially delving into AUs, but I think this was the best canon option and of course you knew it was coming because I could not shut up. XD

---

Xiao is not surprised by the attack. He had not known its time or its place, but the fact of it had been inevitable. Morax and his yaksha generals cannot shelter him forever.

He is alone on the training field, practicing in the generals' absence. They are on the battlefield, serving Morax against his enemies. Xiao should be there too, but Morax has deemed him not yet fit--had dismissed him when he presented himself among the yaksha on the battle's eve, telling him that he must mend completely before he enters the fight in his savior's name. So all Xiao can do is train until he regains the strength he lost after his hated last master's defeat, and hope for Morax's swift approval of his efforts.

The attackers, it seems, mean to give him no chance to try and repay his debt on the field of battle. It is not only Morax whom he owes a debt to, after all. That debt is one of gratitude; the one that he owes these people is one of guilt.

It's because of both debts that he doesn't fight back. While the Millelith are on the field of battle too, some of these are Morax's people: injured soldiers or yaksha who have been held back as Xiao was, or civilians inexpertly wielding weapons or expertly wielding tools of the farmers' trade. They are under Morax's protection, and it would be unbearably shameful to harm them. The others may not be under his guardianship, may be bound to other gods, but they are people Xiao has wronged, too. From their resentment alone he knows these are the comrades and kin of the many righteous souls he was once forced to slaughter.

He does retreat, step by step, lifting his spear only to block strikes with the shaft, ducking or side-stepping others. Not all are so easily turned away. By the time he's backed up to the wall of the training grounds, he's already covered with dozens of minor wounds, cuts and bruises and gouges where borrowed blades or swinging hoes found their mark. His attackers crowd in, and there's no longer room to sidestep--not without bowling over the teary-eyed, half-grown child on his left, or the fierce-faced old woman to his right.

A one-armed yaksha right in front of him wrenches his spear from his hands with her good arm. "My whole division," she hisses, eyes glowing with fury, "every one of them."

"My father," the child says, fierce-faced through his tears, and, "My daughter," says the woman. Xiao tilts his head back as the yaksha spins the spear, feeling the weight of their massed resentment seizing at his throat. He doesn't wish to die. If he had, Morax's hand, outheld, would not have been such a blessing. But he knows that he deserves it, that Morax's act had been an unthinkable grace.

As his own spear is leveled against him, Xiao tilts his head back, baring his throat. Then there's a sudden clatter from the gates to the right, and a sudden scramble amid the outraged group, and then Bosacius is in amid them, roaring remonstrations, flinging the yaksha who'd taken his spear from him to the ground. Xiao sags against the wall, lets his head fall, and closes his eyes.

He should feel grateful for this rescue, as he had for Morax's outstretched hand. Yet the unsatisfied resentment all around him grinds against his soul like broken glass.

---

Morax stands before an assembly of allies just as furious as he is, even if none of them can shake the ground with their rage. Their alliance is a precarious one, for Celestia has made clear that only one with power of their scope can be left alive at the end of its holy war. Just as Morax has built a seal against the thought of that when he sits in peaceful moments with Guizhong, he typically walls it away when dealing with these allies.

How they cope he does not know. All of them are in agreement as to how gods should treat their mortal dependents; thus they have agreed to remain allied until circumstances leave them no other choice. Right now, though, the ire crackling between them makes him wonder if at least one is contemplating an earlier break.

"I will not *punish* my people for attempting to do what you already should have done," says that most furious god, smoke swirling about their ashen form.

(Three years from now one of their own yaksha, much-beloved, will die in a stratagem Morax devises, and they will be crushed beneath Azhdaha's power when they try to assassinate Morax in revenge. Morax will make contracts with all of their remaining yaksha who do not follow their lead, and eventually all those who survive the War and its aftermath will willingly perish in the Chasm, redeeming that ancient breach.)

"They have already suffered enough," says another, more reasonable, whose grainy skin crunches at every movement. "I am willing to forbid them from another such attempt, but punishment will only harden their resentment."

(Five years from now he will sacrifice himself to guard his people's retreat from Osial, begging Bonanus to carry his plea that Morax take on his people's care. Morax will accept that final contract, and they will become fishers and sailors, the ones whose knowledge helps build Liyue Harbor when the Guili Plains flood.)

Nails that glitter like clearwater jade flash as the third gestures wordlessly to the God of Sand, silently echoing his sentiments.

(Eleven years from now she will depart in silence and fade away, pouring herself into the waters of Lisha, willing to diminish herself to avoid Celestia's edict and in the end losing all recognizable sense of who she once was. Morax will allow her people to build a shrine to her by the waters, and long after they have forgotten he will go now and then himself to burn incense to her memory.)

The God of Ash is not content with the conciliation--and it is conciliation; Morax can see the narrowed gem-like eyes and the stiffness of restraint--of the other two. They start forward, eyes flashing like embers. "What right did you have in the first place, Morax, to spare him? It was never only your people that he slaughtered. My own territory was also on *that* god's borders, and was just as much a battlefront! Yaksha I loved killed or dismembered at his hand, whole villages of mine lost to his appetite for dreams, and you let him live without even asking us?"

"Morax is not the first to have seized an enemy's yaksha as spoils of their defeat," Guizhong says, but even her calming smile and pointed look cannot soothe the smoke swelling out and beginning to fill the room.

Morax lets the ground shudder again beneath his feet. "I made a contract with Alatus. Whatever you may think I should have done, I cannot break it now."

"No," says the God of Sand, before the smoke can begin to choke them or the floor itself crack. "But your contracts with your yaksha require them only to defend *your* people from harm. I don't think it's unreasonable to ask that in this case, you require of him another, asking that all of ours be safe as well."

The God of Shells nods, ornaments of noctilucous jade and coral chiming in her hair. "And we will witness its making."

"Very well."

By Bosacius' report, Xiao had already refused to harm their people, not only Morax's own. The request isn't only reasonable; he doesn't doubt that his newest yaksha will welcome it. He has seen the weight of guilt in Xiao's eyes already. Had he not demanded his service in repayment for sparing his life, he doubts Xiao would ever have risen from where he knelt the moment after his last master's death, offering himself up to Morax's spear.

"And I will invoke another contract," the God of Ash says, "since you value those more than you value our goodwill. The one between us dictates the punishment of those of your underlings who without provocation harm our own. It does not limit that harm to what is done in your service. I will allow my comrades to let him off lightly, as he is no longer *that* god's yaksha, but at the very least, you will make clear that he is now yours."

"How so?" asks Guizhong, her gaze sharp, as she puts a gentle hand on Morax's arm.

"By inscribing both your first contract and this second directly into his flesh. I could demand his death!" they hiss before Morax can roar his denial. "If you agree to all our terms, I will be merciful, and demand only this."

This time, the floor does crack, tiles parting in twain. Yet Morax can feel the clauses of the contract draw tight as the God of Ash invokes them, binding him more firmly than any rope. It is his will that spoke them into being; it is his power that goes with them if he breaks them from within.

"Very well," he says, and this time it is not a polite concession, but a dragon's angry growl, resonating within the smoke.

---

Morax is angry, and Xiao does not know why.

He outlines the terms of the contracts he is bound by, and has no choice but to bind Xiao by in turn, in a voice that drops now and then into a growl. So, too, does the ground shake beneath him as he does. Xiao had dropped to his knees the moment he entered Morax's presence, and so he does not stumble and lose his footing, but each little tremor makes him bow his head lower, useless as it seems to appease this rumbling rage.

However it might show around them, though, Morax restrains it enough to touch Xiao only gently, his grip firm but not at all tight. He raises Xiao's chin as if he's handling some precious object, and forces Xiao to meet his eyes. Xiao resists the urge to close them. This is Morax's will.

"Do you agree to this contract?" Morax asks.

Xiao is confused by the question, but he has been asked for an answer. "As my lord wishes," he says, lowering his gaze, since Morax's hold on him prevents him from bowing his head.

The ground shakes again, harder. His answer has not softened his god's anger either. But Morax's grip stays perfectly steady, not tightening one iota. "Then we will go and have it witnessed," he says in a voice like a mountain readying an avalanche.

---

There are no other witnesses but the other three gods and Guizhong at his side. Morax would have fought for that if he had to. Xiao could be a great general of yaksha someday, should his spirit mend from the damage done to it, and Morax would not have those he might lead witness his torment. Not even his other generals, who have taken Xiao under their wing; Guizhong had whispered that it might be better for them not to witness it either, for the sake of Xiao's pride.

Pride is not something Xiao's wounded spirit is capable of, but she isn't wrong. That will come with mending. Morax would not have him look back then and feel this shames him in front of those who wish to welcome him as their brother-in-arms.

Xiao strips to the waist without hesitation when Morax instructs him to bare his skin. He starts to drop to his knees, to bow his head. The God of Ash demands that he stand.

"I need a more stable surface," Morax says.

Turning his back to Morax, Xiao says, "I will be so for my lord."

His spine is a straight line of determination, but for all the firmness in his voice, it comes out flat. The resentment swirling around this room is strong enough that even Morax can feel it; a yaksha, far more sensitive, must feel deeply oppressed. A god's resentment is a powerful thing, and these three carry not just their own wounds but those of all their followers.

"Very well," Morax says, with the weight of the contract he's forging, and raises his hand to draw it across the small of Xiao's back.

The first stroke runs at an angle across Xiao's spine. His skin shivers under Morax's stroke. Power flows with it, out of Morax's fingertips and into his flesh, twisting and hardening it, leaving a raised thick line that isn't a burn but twists like one into a keloid scar. Unlike a scar, Morax knows it still aches with the weight of his power. Such alteration of flesh only slowly becomes bearable, and never entirely loses its feeling.

Aside from the involuntary twitch, Xiao does not move at all. He stares straight ahead. From behind Morax can't see his face. He wouldn't be surprised if it's impassive; Xiao's tendency towards stoicism has been clear since his first day in Morax's keeping.

Without raising his fingertips from Xiao's skin, he draws the next line, shorter, slanted upwards in the other direction. The keloid lines left behind are reddened, but darkening quickly to rusted brown. When they finally heal, they'll be amber. Morax has inscribed contracts in this way before. All of the previous have been upon the unwilling.

Three more lines, each shorter than the last, all connected together in one folding triangular shape. A contract such as this does not need to be inscribed in words to be binding. Not when it's Morax's power that makes it such. The stamp of Geo is all that is necessary, and will double, for the God of Ash's satisfaction, as a brand.

Morax raises his hand a few inches. "So," he says, a dragon's growl, letting the floor shake for a second while there's no risk it will make Xiao stumble and mar the pattern. "That affirms the first contract. I will begin the second."

Words, clauses, careful phrasings pile up in his mind, stones building the unyielding wall that will bar Xiao from harming the people of any allied gods. Morax sets his fingertips back against Xiao's skin.

---

The God of Ash is staring at Xiao with a hunger that is both like and unlike Xiao's previous master. *That* god had delighted in the pain Xiao caused others, sometimes demanding he drag prisoners into the court and dispose of them exactly as instructed, slowly and exactingly or swiftly and messily at turns. When the whim had struck and no prisoners were at hand, Xiao had also suffered for that delight. There is something of that in this god's burning eyes.

It isn't, though, quite the same. Xiao doesn't dare to meet that gaze, knows it would only offend further; instead he fixes his own on the far wall, looking past all three of Morax's allies. He stills himself as he had stilled himself when his previous master had looked around the court for someone to enact that suffering upon. He has never been certain how to act under torture. If he stood impassive, his past master had made it worse in order to draw out a reaction; when he let it show too early, the punishment for weakness had been just as bad. But staying expressionless when he was doling it out always seemed to bore that god faster, just a little, so that he had to inflict slightly less pain to those he killed.

Morax is the god of Geo. Xiao hopes that a stone face is what he wants.

The first line feels like a wall dropped upon the base of his spine. It's only his control of Anemo that keeps Xiao from gasping. He pulls air in and out, slow and steady, as Morax continues the pattern.

Pain is familiar. That doesn't make it any less unpleasant, but it does make it easier to bear. What hangs heavier on Xiao's shoulders is the weight of resentment in the room. That of his attackers' has been festering in his chest since that failed attack, dragging at each breath. Having their gods before him, the focus of all their angry prayers, increases that weight tenfold.

The weight of all his sins. Those angry prayers are pleas for a justice that Morax has chosen to exempt him from. Xiao knows that he deserves even more punishment than this.

But *Morax* has chosen to exempt him. And by doing so, he has taken any choice away from Xiao. All Xiao can do is the will of his new master, the one who spared him in battle, the one who gave him a name, the one who took his service in exchange. It is Morax's will that he lives. The contract Morax is inscribing upon his flesh is its testimony.

Therefore, it is Xiao's obligation to accept this weight, and refuse to let it crush him. No matter what his sins might deserve.

Each line carries equal weight to the first, driving into the small of his back with all the force that Morax can bring to bear. Such force has carved valleys and uprooted mountains, raised cities and drawn the dragon Azhdaha from the earth. Xiao breathes in and out, long and slow, gaze still pinned on the wall beyond but slowly going unfocused as all his concentration centers in on bearing it.

Morax lifts his hand. Xiao is only half-aware of the ground shaking, or what he's saying. He's intimately aware of the sigil of his new god, and agonizingly aware of the one inscribed upon his back. He knows that it's only half-finished. There will be more.

"As Rex Lapis, known as Morax, God of Contracts, I make this contract with my yaksha general Alatus, known as Xiao."

Xiao just barely manages not to start. General? He's no general. Morax doesn't even consider him yet fit for the field. But the names are true, and he can feel Morax's power leaning upon him to answer. If this is some contractual loophole that Morax is crafting, all Xiao can do is play along. If it's not... all Xiao can do is answer as Morax desires.

"I, Alatus, make this contract with my lord," he says, making himself look again at the wall. There is an uneven crack in the wood caused by the shaking of the floor; he knows it to be from that tremor just now, because it wasn't there before.

This time, the line drawn across Xiao's back doesn't feel like a wall coming down. It feels like grit ground into a wound, or raw flesh dragged across gravel. The grinding feeling of it doesn't cease when Morax's finger comes to a stop, but continues to build, growing steadily and without surcease.

"As my servant, you will respect the servants of my allies as if they were your own comrades."

"I will, my lord," Xiao says.

The second line is as grating harsh as the first, the same sensation of sharp pebbles poured into his flesh. Continuing to pour, as the first line continues to grind, the pain of it steadily rising high.

"You will protect, defend, and give shelter to the people of my allies as if they were my own people."

"I will, my lord."

As the third line gouges through his flesh, the first two seem almost to feed upon it. The pain is so intense, so grating and blunt, that Xiao could almost imagine it turning into pressure, like gravel is indeed piling up on open wounds, gouging flesh as it sinks deeper.

"You will never turn your strength upon them, or do them harm," Morax says, voice hard and rumbling dragon-loud, "except to defend yourself, and then only in defense."

The weight of the other gods' resentment redoubles, and the God of Ash hisses, something crackling in the sound, like flame being stirred by wind. "*Never*," Xiao gasps out, not sure whether he's choking on his sins or on smoke.

He welcomes the fourth line, the grating, digging agony of it, the first by now truly incomprehensible as anything but pressure if he wishes to stay conscious. The hunger in the God of Ash's eyes isn't delight at all. It's pure and eager hate.

"Should the general Alatus break this contract, his life, and his service with me, are forfeit, by my guarantee."

The last line is almost painless compared to the still-building pressure of those before. Xiao feels like he's floating, light-headed, aware of nothing but the Anemo flowing around him and the screaming agony at the small of his back. He has to consciously force air into his lungs to find breath for an answer.

"As my lord wills," he says, and the escalating pain of the new contract solidifies all at once, all five lines of it hammering into his spine with the implacable weight of stone.

Morax lifts his hand away and catches Xiao easily as he falls. Xiao catches a glimpse of the God of Ash's face before he folds over the solid bar of his lord's arm. Their satisfaction is almost glee, and yet, for the first time Xiao feels a sense of satisfaction in return. A modicum of justice has been done, within the limitations imposed by Morax's will.

Some of the weight of resentment in the room has eased. Not much, not when these gods hold all of their peoples' as well as their own. But witnessing his punishment must have been some salve. As much as being so punished had been for him. The guilt doesn't drag so heavily now.

He tries to stand again, but there's no strength in his limbs. Morax lifts him over his shoulder as easily as if he were a sash being tried on. He is careful not to touch the brand, though Xiao doesn't imagine that his touch would make it hurt any more than it already does.

"Our contract is complete," Morax says. Whether to Xiao or to the other gods, Xiao doesn't know. It must include those others, for Morax turns and strides out of the room with Xiao still over his shoulder, Guizhong a floating presence trailing along behind. Each step shakes the ground.

As they leave the gods' resentment behind entirely, Xiao's breath comes easier, and easier still. The weight of his sins still lies within him, and always well. But its weight is counterbalanced by the weight of his lord's symbol at the base of his spine. Xiao will accept that stamp without question. The pain is nothing against the guarantees that it provides.

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter TEN.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, implied sexual content, maybe breaking the law just a liiittle, fluff! cheese!, prius slander, too many italics || sfw. 6.1k words.

“WHAT THE FUCK did you do?” Ieiri demands, standing beside you on the sidelines. She doesn’t look at you when she says it, both of you unable to tear your eyes away from what’s happening on the court.

Going into the fourth game of the series, the Samurai had two wins to the Sorcerers’ one. There is not a bone in your body that isn’t confident your team will make a comeback now.

The disjointed team from the last game is nowhere to be found. These guys play like they came out of the womb with basketballs in hand. It’s fucking insane, and you can tell the rest of them are also wondering what changed, because they seem as shocked as Ieiri.

Except for Megumi, who looks at you only once and gives you a firm, approving nod.

“Later,” you tell Ieiri, because too much happened last night to explain right now. Now she does turn to face you, gaze calculating.

“Rephrase,” she says slowly. “Who the fuck did you do?” But the teasing lilt to her tone means she is very much aware already.

“Ieiri!” Your face flushes red and you stare resolutely at the court, avoiding her gaze. It doesn’t help, because instead you find yourself watching Satoru, grinning as he dunks and hangs on the hoop for a second just to show off. He turns to find you on the sideline and gives you a goofy smirk, and you can’t help smiling back.

God, you can never tell Ieiri what happened in your office last night.

You both wound up at your apartment eventually, and he asked you first why your walls weren’t decorated with posters of him and second if this was more than a one-night stand.

“What do you think?” you asked, and he looked more hesitant than you’d ever seen him before.

“I think I want to be able to kiss you every day for the rest of my life,” he said.

The words have been on a loop in your mind ever since.

Honestly, you thought finally doing something about the tension between you and Satoru would snap it, eliminate the amount of irrational headspace he was taking up, but it hasn’t. It’s just made you spend every waking moment thinking about the feeling of his lips on your skin, your name in his mouth.

And now that you’ve aired out the unspoken feelings, it’s like you don’t want to spend a second away from him—not just in the physical sense, but talking to him, teasing him, having actual, genuine conversations. How did he worm his way into your life so fast?

It wasn’t that fast, you realize belatedly. It maybe took five years.

You may owe Kasumi an apology. Or not, because she’s going to have a god complex when she finds out.

Finds out what, though? That you slept with him? That you don’t hate him? What is he, your boyfriend? You don’t really know where to go from here.

The Sorcerers beat the Samurai by a solid twenty-two, and as the players shake hands and do that weird bro-hug-back-slap thing in the aftermath, Nobara appears in front of you.

“Was I right?” she asks. “Or was I right?” Her self-satisfied smirk would annoy you if there wasn’t so much warmth in her eyes, like she’s happy you finally figured this out, or at least happy that the team is back on track. You roll your eyes and wave her off, and she and Ieiri start stage whispering about you as if you’re not standing right there.

“Miss Managerrrr,” Satoru calls as he bounds over to you. “Hey.”

You feel like you’re supposed to compliment him or something, but his ego also doesn’t need to be any bigger than it already is, so you smirk at him and say, “Can’t believe you just stood and there and watched Yuji make the last dunk.”

His jaw drops, and he bends over himself like you’ve punched him in the gut. “I can never make you proud,” he gripes, and you snort and ruffle his hair while his head is within your reach.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly. He looks up and smiles like he’s finally won your praise.

“Hey,” he says after a minute, glancing around to make sure Ieiri and Nobara aren’t prying anymore. “Let me take you out tonight.”

Just like that, your heart’s stuttering and stumbling over itself like it was last night. “On a date?”

“No, on a guided walking tour,” Satoru says. “Yes, a date.”

You raise a brow as if considering. “We have a flight in the morning.”

“I do not see the problem.”

The thing is, you really don’t know what to expect out of an actual date with Satoru. The heated, physical release of the tension between you was one thing. Romance is another.

But you can’t deny that you want to see him tonight. The alternative is going home to your lonely apartment and crashing early before your morning flight.

“Fine,” you say, and then Kento calls for Satoru to get a move on, and he’s sprinting down the hall, leaving you flustered in his wake.

“Office. Now,” Ieiri says, crossing her arms over her chest and leveling you with a glare that says you can’t argue. Nobara stands knowingly beside her, and you sigh, resigning to yourself to an explanation.

But being in your office again makes you think of what you spent last night doing, and you find yourself unable to meet Ieiri’s gaze as you tell her and Nobara what Yaga told you, that Satoru got you the job, and that you’d found him in the gym and shot hoops with him and eventually wound up making out with him against a wall and yes, fine, you got laid.

“Your place or his?” Nobara asks, and you hesitate two seconds too long. Her face goes white and she makes an ungodly screeching noise and squeals, “Here? Did you do it in here? Oh my god! You desecrated this place of work—”

You tune out her rambling, planting your forehead on your desk as the heat floods your cheeks, and then you realize Ieiri is actually just straight-up cackling.

“You live,” she gasps between fits of laughter, “not ten minutes away. You couldn’t just—” And she’s gone again, bent over herself and clutching her stomach as she wheezes. “Oh my god.”

“We did,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. “After.”

This sets Ieiri off again, and Nobara looks one more sentence away from passing out.

“So are you… friends with benefits? Or what is this?” she finally asks. “Are you dating?”

You shrug. “He’s… taking me out tonight,” you admit. Just like that, Nobara seems to forget all about her crisis about the office and starts barraging you with questions about when and where is he taking you and what are you wearing and do you think he’s a romantic and you’re repeatedly telling her you don’t know the answer to any of her questions, because you don’t.

It feels like hours that they keep you there, grilling you about the finer details of how you and Satoru ended up together last night, and then your phone finally buzzes and rescues you from the conversation.

six: imma come get you at 7

You show Nobara so she at least has one answer and then type out a response.

you: where are we going?

six: who do you take me for? a fool?

six: i’m not telling you shit

six: women love surprises

“Women love surprises,” Nobara mocks, lowering her voice in a horrible impression of Satoru. “Who’s women? The entire female population? The whole of the dating pool? I hate surprises.”

“I’ll let him know,” you say, and before she can stop you, you’ve sent:

you: nobara would like you to know this is not true of all women

six: WHAT

six: are these messages being screened by the council

six: hello kugisaki. hello shoko. my intentions are pure

“Tell him I’ll shovel talk him later,” Ieiri says, looking over your shoulder. “With an actual shovel. I’m coming prepared.”

You haven’t felt like this in a long time, talking about boys with your friends, showing them your messages, hypothesizing about a date. Spilling the details about a kiss. And then a lot more than a kiss.

“Go,” Ieiri shoos you off a while later, when it becomes clear you’re itching to get home and ready for wherever the hell Satoru’s taking you tonight.

You grab your bag and head toward the door, Ieiri and Nobara making no move to follow. “Are you gonna stay in here and talk shit?”

“Yes,” Nobara says sweetly. “Yes, we are.”

—

You've never been in Satoru’s car before. You knew he drove some expensive ass sports car, but right now you’re particularly glad it’s not a Prius, because you could never kiss him again if it was.

It’s a sleek, white Audi. “R8,” he says proudly, like you give a shit. He doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you. He wears a light blue button-down that makes his eyes look criminally good.

“You look nice,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the smile. You’re not wearing anything fancy, just jeans and a cute black shirt, but the way Satoru did a double-take when he showed up at your door tells you he means it.

“Eyes on the road, Six,” you tease. As he navigates the familiar intersections and streets of the city, you try to guess where you’re going, but keep coming up short. Eventually, he pulls into a dark parking lot and makes a questioning humming sound, and you turn in your seat to look at him.

He’s looking at the gates of the place he’s taken you, and the fact that they’re very obviously closed. You squint in the darkness to make out the sign illuminated by a single floodlight.

The botanical gardens close at four. Every day.

It appears Satoru was not aware.

“So, how good are you at hopping fences?” he asks innocently, and your laugh bubbles unbidden past your lips, short and surprised.

“You brought me on a date to commit crime,” you say.

“In my defense,” Satoru says, holding up a finger, “I did not know they were closed. Because I did not look it up.”

“Very thorough,” you say, looking up at the fence. “Are you for real, though?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a fence. They should know it wouldn’t keep me out. It’s their fault, really.”

“Yes, because the landscape engineers of a botanical garden were primarily thinking of what an NBA player would do after hours.”

“Exactly.”

You get out of the car and follow Satoru to the front gate. It’s taller than he is, but the fence a few yards down becomes shorter.

He scales the fence like it’s nothing, landing on the other side and giving you a grin that looks like a challenge.

“Showoff,” you mutter, taking a step back. You give yourself a running start and grab the top of the fence with both hands, using the momentum to swing your legs over and land beside Satoru. The landing has you stumbling back a bit, and suddenly his hands are on your waist, steadying you.

“Thanks,” you mutter sheepishly.

“We’d make great spies.”

“That will never be true.” You grin at his dramatic frown and take his hand in yours. “Lead the way, since you’re such a great date planner.”

He obliges, heading off between two tall hedges to the right, saying, “I feel like that was sarcasm.”

The moon is high and near-full, casting the hedges and flowers in a silvery halo. Neither of you have any idea where you’re going, so you breathe in the beauty as you wander. His hand is warm in yours and eventually he drops it to wrap his arm around your shoulders, sending a shiver down your spine.

“So, Miss Alley-oop, D1 baller and manager supreme.” You snort at the titles. “Tell me about you.”

“What?”

“Tell me about you,” he says again. “I know you played in college. I know about your career. I know you would probably choose Megumi’s dogs over me. But what else?”

Something warm takes root inside of you, like it did when he said he wanted to see you in one of his shirts. It’s something trilling and bright, that knowledge that he wants to understand you, that he actually cares to listen.

So you tell him. You tell him about growing up, about college, about your friends, the move from San Diego, your family, your favorite color and your music taste and how grateful you are to have Ieiri and Nobara here. And he tells you about himself, too, about his stupid-rich family and his basketball scouting and high school with Geto and Utahime.

You don’t know how long the two of you walk around, just talking. You make your way around the dark gardens, weaving around groves of small trees and colorful flower beds and small koi ponds.

“I think I am a great date planner,” Satoru says eventually. “This is way more romantic when it’s illegal.”

You snort. “Is that gonna be a trend?”

“In our innumerable future dates, is that what you’re saying?”

Your laugh is soft, floating through the night-tinged air. “I suppose,” you say. “What’s that mean, then? What is this?”

The two of you come to a stop in a circular clearing with a fountain in the center, softly gurgling while the coins on the bottom make murky, circular patterns. You perch on the edge of it and preemptively decide to warn Satoru, “If you push me in I’ll actually steal your car and leave you here.”

He grins, which means the thought definitely crossed his mind.

When he sits down beside you something in the air shifts, and he turns to you with uncharacteristically solemn eyes. “What is this,” he echoes. “I guess… whatever you want it to be?”

But you think about what he told you, about how he pushes people away. About how he makes it easy to hate him. You want to know if he’ll back out. “I want to know what you want it to be.”

“I think,” he says after a while, not breaking eye contact, “I would really like to be your boyfriend, if that’s something that won’t destroy your resume.”

You snort. “I’m not putting you on my resume.”

“I am now reconsidering.”

You grin and lean into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of whatever purple flowers are dotted around the edges of this clearing. “I would like that,” you say.

“Oh, thank god,” Satoru breathes, and you laugh again. He makes you laugh more than you usually do. “Because when you didn’t immediately say yes I almost threw myself into the fountain.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Do you want out?”

“Satoru.” You swat at him and sit back, putting your hands on his shoulders and forcing him to look at you. “If I wanted out, I wouldn’t be here. And I’m not gonna keep telling you that, so get it through that thick skull of yours now. I want you.”

He grins, slow and wide. “You can’t just say shit like that. It makes me wanna make out with you.”

“What’s stopping you?” You trail your fingers down his arm, lacing your fingers together. You lean in and whisper in the shell of his ear, “Do I make you nervous?”

“For real?” Satoru asks, huffing out a laugh. He squeezes your hand. “You are… so wildly out of my league that I didn’t even think you would—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

“What?”

You blink. “You’re serious!”

“Wh—yes, I’m serious! What, I try to be romantic and you—”

You grab the collar of his shirt and pull him toward you, shutting him up by pressing your lips to his.

“Oh,” he says, stupidly, when you let him go.

“Yeah, oh.”

You wait a beat. “I’m not out of your league. We quite literally work for the same league, actually.”

“Oh. My god.”

“Now. Why did you take me to a forbidden garden if you weren’t gonna kiss me senseless?”

“I fucking love the way you think,” he mutters, and he pulls you to your feet and leads you toward the bench on the opposite side of the small clearing. Before you can really register what’s happening, you’re leaning back on the bench and he’s straddling you with his knees, pulling you into a deep kiss that has your breath stuttering in the back of your throat.

Shit. You feel like you could do this forever.

You slide your hands up his back until you reach his neck and pull him in closer, teeth clashing, and when you pull back to breathe all you can focus on is the way the moon outlines Satoru’s hair and face in silvery-white and god, he’s attractive.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

“You—”

“Hey!” The both of you stand up ramrod straight like scolded schoolchildren as a flashlight beam pins you in place, and you clap a hand over your mouth. There’s a night security guard standing between the hedges and the fountain, looking mildly irritated but mostly just exhausted.

“Oh, shit,”you mutter.

“Hey there,” Satoru calls, striding over to the security guy like they’re old friends. “So sorry to bother you. How’s your evening been?”

The guy looks up at him for a long moment, somewhere between I don’t get paid enough for this shit and I’m going to call the cops just because you’re being a dick about this. And then his jaw slackens as recognition flashes across his face.

“Holy shit,” the guy says. “You’re Satoru Gojo.”

“Ah, a fan!” Satoru grins, and waves you over. It feels like a walk of shame. You can’t believe he’s being so chill about this.

Actually, yes you can.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say honestly. “We really weren’t doing anything cra—”

“This is my girlfriend,” Satoru interrupts, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and the word dissolves the rest of the sentence before it can leave your mouth. You kind of love when he says it. This is my girlfriend. “She’s also the top-notch manager of the Sorcerers.” He glances down at you, and you immediately realize where he’s going with this.

“I’m sure between the two of us, we can fix you up with some home game tickets for your trouble,” you offer, and the guard’s face lights up. He looks relatively young, probably taking the night shift for some easy cash, but all of his exhaustion vanishes the moment you say tickets.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course!” Satoru says, clapping the guy on the back. “I don’t lie.”

“That’s not true,” you say, but fondly. “Yeah, just give me your name and email and I’ll hook you up.” You hand over your phone, open to the notes app, and the guy excitedly types in his information and hands it back to you.

“Well, that wound up being a lot less trouble than I’d hoped,” he says, sighing. “Thanks. Uh—I do need to escort you guys out, though.”

Satoru grins. “No problem.”

For the silent walk to the front gates, you’re torn between keeling over dead from embarrassment or bursting out laughing. This is insane. This is unreal.

At the gate, the security guard smiles hesitantly at the two of you as he undoes the lock and swings it open, gesturing as if to say after you.

“Thanks, pal,” Satoru says, and you sigh, long-suffering. You fix the guard with what you hope is a warm smile and thank him, promising again that you’ll send the tickets his way.

As soon as he’s closed the gates and turned his back, you and Satoru run back to his car, giggling like kids. You feel like a teenager sneaking out at night, high on the adrenaline of getting caught and not punished, and you collapse into Satoru’s passenger seat in a heap of disbelief and laughter.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, when you can finally breathe. “Jesus.”

Satoru starts the car and takes a moment to press his forehead to the steering wheel, still losing it. “I’m such a good date planner. We should always commit crime on dates.”

“No,” you say loudly, shoving at his shoulders, and he lifts his head and grins at you before pulling you into another deep kiss.

“Come over,” he whispers when he pulls back, lips inches from yours.

You have a flight in the morning.

You find you don’t particularly care.

“Okay.”

—

You wake up late.

Granted, late today means 5:30 in the morning, but you have to be at the airport soon. Luckily, you had the foresight to grab your packed bag from your place last night before crashing at Satoru’s.

Well, other things came before the crashing part.

“Satoru!” You shake him by the shoulders, interrupting his snoring. “Get the fuck up. We have to go.”

He groans, flipping over and burying his face in the pillow. “Don’t wanna.” You have no idea how he manages to get himself out the door on time on his own.

“Well, guess I’m driving the Audi.”

That has him shooting out of bed, scrambling for a change of clothes and his keys. “I’m awake,” he says, but it sounds more like m’wake, and he looks like he might fall asleep standing up.

“Get a move on,” you say, and swat him on the shoulder before making your way to the kitchen.

Satoru’s apartment is nice, and surprisingly homey—you’d expect a disorganized guy who travels so much to have a pretty minimalistic setup, maybe with dirty clothes all over the place, but it’s actually pretty cozy. On the coffee table there’s a framed picture of Megumi and Tsumiki with the dogs, and he even has a cactus on the windowsill.

“From Tsumiki,” he explains as he finally makes it out to the kitchen and follows your line of sight. “She said even I can’t kill it.”

You hum, pulling him in for a kiss, and then say, “I think she’s underestimating you.”

His sleep-addled brain takes a moment for him to realize it was an insult, and when he does he groans dramatically and says, “You hate me.”

“Yeah.”

But he picks up your bag where you left it by the door and carries it as the two of you bolt out to the car.

You arrive at the private hangar with two minutes to spare, and the rest of the team is already there.

“I was just about to call you,” Ieiri says when you get out of Satoru’s car. And then she processes the fact that you just got out of Satoru’s car. She snickers, and you give her a glare that says shut up and she gives you a look that says I will not.

The team is gathered in front of the jet making idle morning conversation (except for Ino and Toge, who both look two seconds away from sleep), but they still when you and Satoru approach with Ieiri.

Oh. You really didn’t consider this.

“Hard launch, I guess,” you mutter, and Ieiri smirks.

Kento’s eyes widen ever so slightly, which is probably the most surprised you’ve ever seen him. He’s a fairly stoic person—that subtle change of expression might as well equate to the absolute squawk that comes out of Nobara’s mouth.

“Oh my god,” she says, practically jumping up and down. “Oh my god. I knew it!” And then Yuji is joining her, bouncing off the nonexistent walls, but his response is less of an I knew it and more of a holy shit I did not see this coming in a million years. You wonder how he and Megumi ever became a thing. Yuji might be the single most oblivious person you’ve ever met.

Megumi grabs him by his bright red hood until he stops jumping. You make eye contact with him across the haphazard circle the team has formed, and he gives you the smallest smile. His gaze locks onto your shirt, and you look down and realize it's Satoru's. You threw it on with leggings and a loose zip-up in the chaos of this morning.

Megumi catches Satoru’s eye, and they have some convoluted conversation with their expressions that you can’t decipher, but they both seem satisfied by the end of it.

“Hey, okay,” Hakari says, narrowing his eyes and pointing between the two of you. “What the fuck is that? Are you a thing?” He looks at Satoru. “Did you pull?” In response, Satoru wraps his arm around you, and when you don’t protest, Hakari’s lips part soundlessly in disbelief. “Okay, damn.” He turns to you. “You’re not under duress?”

“Excuse you,” Satoru says, and you laugh and shake your head. On your left, Yuta and Toge exchange a loaded glance that you’re pretty sure means they’ve placed bets on this before.

Hakari shrugs. “Well. Okay, then. Whatever.”

Junpei’s mouth has formed a small O. At Kento’s shoulder, Ino is now wide awake, tapping him frantically on the arm like he isn’t seeing the exact same thing. Yaga is utterly unfazed. And Kusakabe, for his part, just gives you a once-over and then asks Yaga, “Is that an HR issue or are we fine?”

“Okay,” you say loudly, checking your watch. “On the jet. Let’s go. Places to be.” The team obediently files up the stairs and Ieiri ruffles your hair teasingly before following suit. As Ino ascends the steps, he turns and flashes both of you two thumbs up with the biggest goofy smile.

“That went well,” Satoru says. But the team’s reactions have you thinking about the utter rage that you know Utahime will be in when she sees, and that makes you think of something else.

“I don’t think we should be obvious about this in Savannah,” you say slyly. “Like—okay. Think about this. They know us well enough to figure it out, and it’ll be fine, and they’re not gonna go blabbing about it. But publicly, we wait until San Diego, and then we have some horrible public display of affection right in front of Geto, just to shove it in his face that his shit didn’t work.”

“Oh my god,” Satoru says slowly, as the two of you enter the cabin of the jet. “You are a fucking menace.” He grins. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

It’s a short flight, and before you know it the game is in full swing on the Samurai’s home court. Ten minutes in, things are going well for the Sorcerers. The game is evenly matched, but you’ve managed to pull ahead by a few.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to read a text from a number you don’t recognize.

unknown number: hi!! this is tsumiki! megumi gave me your number, i hope you don’t mind

unknown number: i just wanted to let you know i heard about you and satoru and i’m THRILLED and if he ever hurts you i promise i’ll sick the dogs on him

You chuckle and add her to your contacts, then shoot a quick text back saying you appreciate it and she can text you anytime she wants, especially if she has embarrassing stories about Satoru and Megumi.

Nobara sidles up to you as the first quarter reaches its final minute. “I can’t fucking believe you,” she says. “Pulling up together with no warning.” She swats you on the shoulder playfully. “I have half a mind to start making edits of you and posting them on the official account.”

“I’ll actually enter the witness protection program.”

“You will not,” Nobara says as the both of you watch Todo almost knock Ino over. “Oh, god. Are his dramatics already rubbing off on you?” The buzzer goes off and the Sorcerers are in the lead. As Satoru makes his way off the court, he catches your eye over Kento’s shoulder and winks. You feel the heat rising unbidden to your cheeks and Nobara cackles.

Then Nitta texts you. From right across the court.

nitta: WHAT WAS THAT

nitta: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALLEY

nitta: !#)$##&#$#!

Nobara grabs your phone before you can respond, and despite your protests she starts texting Nitta. You watch your friend react live across the court, her jaw dropping, and then she turns to Utahime and whispers in her ear. Oh, here we go, you think.

Her entire face goes bright red in two seconds flat, and she gapes at you, and then at Satoru, and then she yanks Nitta’s phone out of her hands and starts texting you—or Nobara, really. You look at Nitta and shrug helplessly. God knows what they’re saying to each other right now.

“Tell her to keep it quiet for now,” you murmur to Nobara, and then relay your plan to her. She grins.

“That’s evil,” she says proudly. “I love it.”

In the second quarter, Megumi manages to dunk right over Haibara, sending the fans reeling. A few minutes later, Satoru makes a free throw and solidifies the lead.

After that, the game goes on without any particularly unusual events, the score mostly staying within ten points the entire time. But the Sorcerers win by seven, and now they’re 3-2.

One more win at home and the conference title is yours.

—

The two days leading up to the home game are go, go, go, but the business side of things is checkered with periodic updates from Akari about the Samurai’s response to your new relationship.

nitta: haibara said he feels like he missed 4 seasons of a tv show

nitta: he can’t believe gojo has a gf he was like ‘i need to sit down’

nitta: i think ijichi has just given up on practice being productive. they’re too gossipy

nitta: gakuganji doesn’t remember you are but tbh i don’t think he remembers who i am so

You honestly forgot Gakuganji’s name, so that’s fair. You’ve formed a bad habit of referring to him in your head as the old fart, and you’re scared one day you might say it out loud in front of his team.

Utahime found you after the game and practically fell to her knees asking why in god’s name you’d ever get with Gojo, and you told her you’re just fulfilling your duties as an Anti-Gojo Club member by taking him down from the inside. She knew you were lying, but when she watched the way he bounded up to you in the hall and ruffled your hair, she must’ve seen something in him that put her slightly more at ease.

Not that she’s happy about this turn of events. But she doesn’t hate you by proxy, at least.

nitta: DOES KASUMI KNOW

you: NO. DO NOT TELL HER

nitta: PLEASE LET ME TELL HER

you: AKARI. NO

“We’re hot news,” Satoru says over your shoulder, and you flick him on the forehead.

“Don’t hover,” you say.

He frowns. “But I’m so good at it.”

You swipe out of your thread with Akari and sigh. Geto hasn’t reached out since that initial text—most of you is thankful, but part of you is worried this means he’ll approach you in person again.

“No Suguru,” Gojo notes, and you nod, turning around and facing him, tucking your phone in your back pocket.

“Nope.”

“Can’t wait to make out with you in front of him.” You swat at him. “It was your plan!”

“Yeah, but it sounds obnoxious when you say it like that. And we don’t need to make out.”

“Ew,” he says in his lilting, teasing voice. “You want to have sex on the court? That’s kind of perverted—”

“I hate you,” you groan.

“Gojo!” Megumi shouts from down the hall, and you shove him away.

“Go do your job, dipshit.”

“I love when you call me pet names.” He plants a kiss on your temple and books it to the locker room, and you’re left standing in the center of your office, flushed and a little lightheaded from the affection.

You hear Nobara and Ieiri talking as they approach your office, so you clear your throat, flick off the lights, and meet them on their way to the gym.

“What do you think?” Nobara loops you into the conversation immediately. “We winning the series today?”

“With Gojo on his girlfriend high, yeah we are,” Ieiri says, and you snort.

Nobara’s still looking at you expectantly as the three of you enter the gym, and you catch sight of Satoru across the gym and admit, “Probably.”

Nitta sticks her tongue out at you from across the court and you wave happily. You tug the headset on and tune into Zenin’s updates.

“With the Sorcerers on an absolutely powerful win streak, these conference finals are looking close to an end,” she says in your ear. “On the other end of the bracket, we’ve got the Curses leading the Foxes series three to two. If they win tomorrow, they’ll face the winner of this series in the championships.”

“If not, we’ve got a lengthy rest of the series for the Foxes to make a comeback. Either way, we’re looking at an intense matchup for our final round,” Panda chimes in.

You grin. It’s not that you want to come face to face with your old team again, but you want to watch the Sorcerers destroy them. You want to see the look on Geto’s face when he realizes his plan backfired. You want your team to take the championship title. And you know they can.

The game launches into play and Satoru wins the tip-off against Noritoshi. A quick pass to Ino has the Sorcerers leading by two, and then Kento makes a fantastic block against Choso.

“Lookin’ good,” Ieiri comments, and you can’t take your eyes off the court. On the other side of the gym, Ijichi is talking frantically to Gakuganji, who looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“A great three-pointer from number zero, Megumi Fushiguro,” Zenin remarks, and Yuji whoops as he runs over to high-five Megumi for his shot. “Seven minutes into the quarter with the Sorcerers leading by five.”

Yaga and Kusakabe are murmuring urgently under their breaths to each other, still watching play on the court, and then Kusakabe smirks, the two of them seemingly having come to a decision.

When the first quarter ends, Yaga whispers something to Junpei and claps him on the back. The kid’s eyes are wide, and you realize he’s subbing him on for Ino without a substantial lead.

“You got it,” Kento tells Junpei firmly. “Don’t sweat it.”

Nobara raises a brow your way, like you understand the inner workings of Yaga’s mind, which you don’t. But with the rest of the starters on the court, Junpei doesn’t have to pick up anybody’s slack—and he plays really well, getting a good seven points in himself. By halftime, he’s stumbling off the court with a huge grin and thanking the coaches profusely while they wave him off, stifling their smiles.

Yuta, Toge, and Hakari all go on after the half and kick ass. Satoru subs out halfway through the third and sprays water directly in his face, panting. The water drips down the curve of his jawline and onto his shirt, and you watch his shoulders heave before you realize you’re staring and abruptly look away.

But looking away means you look right at Ieiri, and she thinks this is hilarious.

“Shut up,” you mutter, willing the red away from your cheeks.

“I didn’t say anything!” she protests.

The lead never exceeds ten points, but the Sorcerers take the win, and for a moment after the buzzer the gym is oddly still, like nobody has really processed what this means. And then Zenin shouts right in your ear, “The Sorcerers take their spot in the finals!” and all hell breaks loose.

“Yes!” Nobara screeches, and whips out her phone to film the team colliding in the center of the court, ecstatic.

And the thing is, it’s not just them. The Samurai swarm the team huddle, exhausted and sweaty and smiling, and Choso claps Yuji on the back, and Haibara’s laughing, and Todo’s grinning proudly, and you can’t fight your own smile at the sheer joy rippling across the gym.

The championship series.

You tear the headset off and Nobara drags you by the elbow out to the center court and into the huddle of hyped-up, sweaty players, and you’re laughing as you practically fall into the center of it, half-deaf on the exhilaration of the guys and the fans.

Satoru grabs you by the shoulders, and in the mass of people you aren’t worried about the cameras catching it, but honestly—you don’t even care if they do.

“We did it!” he shouts, and you grin, laughing out loud.

They did it. Your team did it.

directory. || prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro

[laomelettedufromage]

The other day I introduced myself to someone who, unbeknownst to me, was a linguistics teacher and I mentioned the spelling of my name (Kadie with a “d”) as a tool to help her remember my name and she was immediately like “oooooo I’m gonna use your name as an example in my class to talk about why it’s always been pronounced with a ‘d’ despite the traditional spelling with a ‘t’!!!” Glad to be of service ma’am.

[tonycries]

We Neva Play!

Synopsis. Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, séx pollen, innappropríate use of jujutsu (like a LOT), pússydrunk Gojo, limitless, both are teachers, creampíes, oraI (fem), síxty-nine, banter, breaking the bed, FÉRAL Gojo, pússy-slappíng, BRÉEDING, spítting, reader’s CT mentioned, Yaga’s had enough, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.3k (cries)

A/N. Lacked Gojo in the manga so I present to you more Gojo <3

“Gojo, I will kill you before that curse can-”

“Aw, man!‘ Yuji whines over Nobara’s cackles, reluctantly slapping a few thousand yen onto her outstretched palm. He thuds his head frustratedly against the cool vending machine they were crouched behind, “That was rigged!”

The girl scoffs, counting her hard-earned winnings victoriously, “I told you they wouldn’t even make it until the school gates before fighting. It’s not rigged, it’s common sense - not that you’d know anything about it.” Satisfied, she sneaks a look over the side of the machine at the shrinking backs of you and a too-happy Gojo Satoru. “Besides, we’ll get a rematch soon enough. My money’s on her, double or nothin’.” 

“You really think they’ll kill each other before the mission is over?” Yuji muses, eyes locked on Gojo’s infamous smirk - only widening the closer he drives you dangerously towards an aneurysm. “I bet-”

“No.” Megumi’s deadpan interruption startles them both. And as much as he’d like to pretend he wasn’t cramped with the two idiots stalking their squabbling teachers, he unfortunately, very much, was. “I bet ten thousand yen they kill each other before the mission is over. Or worse - end up dating.”

---

“A love hotel.”

“A love hotel~” Gojo echoes, with a hand clutching faintly at his chest. Swooning over you with each word, “Now, usually you’d have to take me out to dinner first, but for you I will make an except- mmpf-”

Now, Gojo knew he could’ve easily blocked your attack - hell, he didn’t even have to bat an eye to activate limitless. But where was the fun in that? Giving into your elbow digging sharply into his side, he’s only cackling at your venomous words, “I could take down both you and those special grades, y’know?”

“Oh yeah?” he hooks a long finger underneath his blindfold, showing off that infuriating wiggle of his snowy brows. “If you’re so great, then why did Yaga have you assigned with me, pretty girl?”

You sigh, rubbing your throbbing temples, “Only because someone-” And oh, if he had the most renowned eyes in all of jujutsu, then you had the most withering glare. “-completely skipped out on his last mission to stuff his face with sweets, n’ now I’m wasting my time babysitting. So this time, I’m in charge.”

Ah, a woman after his heart - in more ways than one, for sure. 

“Yes, ma’am~” 

Dramatically, he mimics the zipping of his lips shut, readily following you towards the flashy building standing out amongst the bustling Tokyo street. Walls painted such a suggestive pink, neon lights flickering special discounts at passersby - it would have almost been scandalous to be caught outside such an obvious love hotel such as this - if it hadn’t been for the mission, that is. 

“Didn’t think our first date would be at a love hotel.” he chuckles as soon as you reach the gaudy, perfumed reception. And that flickering, wide-eyed stare of the woman behind the counter is enough for Gojo to prattle on, “Now, tell me what room you want, honey-” Throwing an arm around your shoulder, you’re pressed helplessly against his toned front. “-they’ve got candy-themed, anime-themed- oh, they’ve even got a train station-”

“Best to keep our train station fantasies to ourselves-” You simper, subtly stepping on his foot with your own, but that only topples you against him. Instantly, another strong arm snakes around your waist to support your weight, as if second nature, “-isn’t that right, dear?”

And you swear, you could spot a tiny dimple when the ends of his mouth curl even wider into a saccharine sweet grin. “If my memory serves me right, you were the one that dragged me here. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Shivers run down your spine - ones he runs the soft, rounded pads of his fingers up and down along. You’re sure you looked like a disgustingly loving couple to the poor lady working at the counter. And to put her out of her misery, if anything, you recite, “A-anyways- apologies. Room 143, please.” Managing to plaster on a weak smile, it only falls flat when the receptionist hands you your key - and two complimentary condoms along with it. “I- uh- thank you?”

And it’s all you can do to not just shove off the 6’3 thorn at your side when he steers the two of you to the elevator with a disbelieving, “Only two?” 

Though, you’re sure it wouldn’t do much against him, anyway. It never has - because ever since you’d stepped foot through Jujutsu High’s towering gates as its newest teacher, Gojo Satoru seemed to make it his mission in life to get on each and every single one of your nerves. The only mission he’d willingly do, mind you. Insisting on interrupting your classes, hiding you little sweets in your office, pushing your buttons in front of-

“Well, that went as inconspicuous as ever.” Gojo hums, reeling you out of your little reverie. “Of course, it did, thanks to me.”

“‘Inconspicuous’ my ass.” you groan, hastily punching in the ground number for your room. Yaga had said that the veil was already completed around the entirety of the curse-infested floor by now, good - the faster you could get away from Gojo, the more intact your sanity would be. “If it wasn’t for me smoothing things over, she’d be filing a complaint against the sleazy man in a bad Kakashi cosplay at this very moment.”

“Hey! I didn’t see you putting on any Oscar-worthy performances. And my Kakashi cosplay is gre-”

DING!

The elevator doors open to a seemingly normal, barren hallway - not a hair or person out of place - though, you knew better. And as much of a fool as Gojo acted, he did, too. 

His steady arm drops from your side when you stretch out your limbs in preparation - shit, you forgot it was still there. “Watch and learn, Gojo.” you hum.

“Hell yeah, I’m watching.” 

A beat of silence. Two. 

With his thick blindfold, Gojo’s expression was almost indescribable - but your skin prickles with the slow, sultry sweep of his eyes down your figure. But before you can snap back at his loaded tone, it happens- “Don’t fall behind, sweetheart.”

Curses burst out of the fourteen heavy, wooden doors along the narrow corridor - some small, some big, all crushed easily under the power of your cursed technique. And neither of you had to utter a word to know you’d both be trying to best the other. 

You’ve got one slobbering mess of a curse trapped underneath your heel, locked in combat when Gojo calls out from somewhere across the hallway. “Still stuck on that grade one?” Your jaw ticks, pressing the curses face deeper into the carpeted floor of the bedroom, “I’ve already located one of two special grades- better keep up.”

Fuck, curse him and his six eyes. 

Not wasting any more time, you easily exorcize the remaining curse, feet carrying you door after door. Most of the infestation had been cleared out by now by the both of you, splatters of red and limbs lining along the hallway - you only felt bad for Ichiji having to organize a clean-up after this. 

The next time you saw Gojo’s flash of cerulean eyes was from outside another bedroom. Goading, “Heh, need a little help, Gojo?” 

“Oh fuck-” he wraps two arms around the special grade’s flowered horns. Powerful legs bowed, cloudy hair mussed, blindfold dangling somewhere around his neck - he was beautiful. And it was fleeting moments like this that you held an ounce of begrudging respect for him. Ripping those offending appendages, “-off. Roughed up the other special grade for ya since you were so slow, sweetheart - consider it a lil’ gift for this date.”

“Oh, fuck you-”

In the midst of it all, Gojo still manages to flutter his long lashes your way, “Well, we are in a love hotel, after all. Just say so if you wanna get those pretty hands on me.”

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last person on Earth, Gojo Satoru.”

His loud bout of laughter follows you to the final hotel room - 143, coincidentally. It was decadent, almost-spotless - had it not been for the towering curse hunched over in the middle. You could tell that Gojo had been here, because its pink, scale-like skin was already bruised.

You slam the door shut behind you, better to keep the property damage to a minimum. Hastily getting into action - it wasn’t anything new, after years of exorcizing curses you’d grown used to predicting their pattern of attack. But it was only after a pressurized, finalizing punch of yours lands right on the curse’s thumping neck that you find yourself growing weary. Cautious of the tiny, red flower that’d sprouted out of thin air on its skin. Immediately, you think back to Hanami, because it was blossoming - unnaturally fast - petals unraveling to explode in sparkly pollen-

Shit. Your head whirled, eyes watery at the heady scent, “Wh-what the fuck-”

It takes only that split-second of distraction before more blooms pop! pop! pop! all down the curse’s figure. It just heaves with fatigue when they all burst out the same powdery substance from before.

“Fuck- what is this-” your thighs clench together, teeth clenched so hard it hurt. You stagger back towards your opponent, and it seems this last-ditch Hail Mary caused more damage than good. Because the curse was lethargic, barely even flinching when you’re back to pummelling it with your cursed technique. Again. And again and again-  “-if only you’d taken to making perfumes- instead-”

It falls to the ground with a last ringing screech, the flowers withering away instantly. 

But the damage was done.

And you’d never felt so drained - even after your most difficult of missions. Never sinking down onto your knees this way, skin heated, mouth salivating. The air in the room was just thick with something so delicious - syrupy, with hints of pine and cherry - traitorously, you find yourself inhaling deep, addictive lungfuls of the scent. 

“Smells so-” your brows furrow, digging a hand into the plush bed beside you to clamor back onto your feet. “Smells like-”

Gojo. 

Your entire body jolts with something so dark - visceral, gasping when you feel your underwear just drench. Mind such a melty mess filled with only Gojo Gojo Gojo - and before you know it, you’re stumbling towards the door-

Bang! 

The aroma only grows heavier near the door, blood thunders in your ear at the deafening crash from outside. Shit, had you locked the door- 

Bang! Bang! BANG-

Fuck, neither of you were making it out alive. 

It’s the first clear thought headlining through your mind for the first time in what feels like ages - only several, syrupy-slow seconds later does it follow up with the realization that you’re now standing face-to-face with Gojo. 

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Who looked absolutely crazed right now - teetering unsteadily on his feet, his head was bowed, fingers trembling. The mahogany hotel door in mere splinters under his hands.

“F-forgot you could teleport?” It comes out a yelp - pained, almost - and the very first note of your strained voice is enough to have his entire, powerful body wracking with a gasp. Goosebumps pricking along his milky skin, he finally - finally raises his eyes.

Shit, he’s finally lost it.

Because Gojo’s gaze was burning, lids hooded, dark pupils blown so wide that his eyes looked almost black. He didn’t look at you with that usual teasing glint, no, he looked like he was going to rip you apart. Twitchy, drinking in a shaky, drawn-out gasp of the scented air. You almost had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade masked as your coworker. 

But it’s real - it’s so, so real and you can’t deny it when he’s baring you with such a vicious grin. Plump lips pulled back to show off those glinting canines, “You.”

“Satoru.”

His lips are on yours - pressing and pressing so hard you were sure it bruised. But fuck- you’re kissing back - because how could you not? The candied seam of his mouth was addictive, breathing you in like his last breath of fresh air.  

“Kiss me-” he spits into your slack mouth, as if he wasn’t already. Two hands surging forwards to cup your cheeks even deeper, “Kiss me kiss me kiss- fuck-” That last little swear almost comes out as a whimper, and you can only keen when Gojo wraps his pretty lips around your tongue, sucking lewdly. “Y’smell so sweet- taste so sweet-”

“Sa-t-toru-” you’re managing out. It just then hits you how weak your knees have gotten, sinking down to straddle his muscular, jutted-out thigh. It makes him throw his head back when you’re just dragging your hips in a long, languid stripe. “Look what you’ve- what you’ve gotten us into.”

Pulling away to lick lazily up, up, up your neck, his teeth bite just at your thundering pulse. “Me?” he hisses out, voice a few octaves higher than usual. “You think I’m the one fuckin’ responsible for this?” It almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “I’m responsible for this-” And his startling eyes sink down to the darkening wet patch on the middle of his leg, your flimsy panties sticking to his uniform. “-am, I?”

“Yes.” your defiant fingers are trailing down the hem of his shirt, ripping apart those buttons in hasty, urgent tugs until it was off completely. “If only you hadn’t half-assed it with this special grade then-”

Gojo huffs out in humorless laughter into your lips - the same one he’d give a persistent little curse, and it makes your hairs stand on end. Wondering how high the kill count would really be. In the hundreds? Thousands? “I thought you were supposed to be the babysitter, huh?”

Millions. 

“And aren’t you the strongest?” A trembly hand of yours ventures its way down his flexing body - down, past those plush pecs, past his flinching abs, dipping teasingly just above where you could feel the hiking tent in his tight pants. “How did you end up this hah- bad?”

You’re holding back a groan at the long, solid inches straining to break free of his thick fabric, you could feel the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing length under your palm. Fuck, water was wet - Gojo Satoru, unfortunately, had a big di-

“You.”

It’s low, ragged - so quiet that for a second you think you almost imagine it. 

“You.”

His lips are sagging open once more, greedy gaze widening - and you knew it was glowing now. Tiny flickers of blue lightning flickering at the ends of his eyes with every mindless gyration of your palm down his bulging, clothed shaft.

“It’s all because of you.” 

Yeah, you would be lucky number one on his kill count when he breaks - or maybe he would be on yours

Your back is hitting the mattress, and the buttons of your poor uniform are hitting the velvety floor - absolutely nothing against the strongest, who was now tearing through your clothes the same way he was ripping apart those curses from before.

Shit- did he teleport you two?

“Don’t know-” Gojo pants out feverishly, and at that moment you weren’t sure if you’d simply babbled your thinking out loud or whether he could read your mind. “Don’t- don’t know- fuuck.” Low, feral groans crack at the back of his throat with each inch of your exposed skin, and before you know it, he’s surging forwards into the naked valley of your breasts. Breathing you in so filthily, “Just know that I need you- fuck m’gonna fuckin’ kill someone if I don’t-” 

Each spat out little word is punctuated with an intoxicated push and pull of Gojo’s hips. Angrily rutting in-between your thighs until it was just a clingy, syrupy mess of slick and precum between you two. 

“Oh-” your lips drop into a soft gasp, reaching out your fingers to smear a sinful sheen down them. It glosses all the way to your wrist with each newly beaded wave of his precum. 

It feels so dirty the way you’re pushing the very tips of your fingers into your mouth. Gojo can only look - can barely even breathe when you slur, “You taste so good, too, Toru.”

Oh, that was it.

Gojo Satoru had finally thought he was getting control of his sanity - he finally thought the effects of that cursed technique were wearing off. But now - at that little nickname - he feels something snap. The lamp on your right bedside table shatters.

And usually, Gojo’s taunting was tinted with a little laugh, an inkling of fondness in them - but right now they sounded pained. Wrenching out of his broad chest, “Fuck you. Need you- do you know what you’ve done.”

Your useless skirt - along with your soaked, see-through panties - are ripped off of your squirming body. And for once in his life, he’s speechless - eyes almost bulging out of his skull, nails digging into the plush of your thighs. 

Your clothes end up in a pile of sad tatters on the floor, and you felt a strange inkling that maybe you’d end up much the same. 

Smack!

Two, large fingers slap down harshly right on your drooling cunt, slobbering down a glistening coat of your pretty juices down his wrist. “Pay attention.” He’s pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your neglected nipples, your stomach, down, down, down in a flurry until the very tip of Gojo’s nose was nudging at your pulsing clit. “Because if m’losing control I need you to stop me.”

The dim hotel lights flicker when Gojo meets your cunt in a sultry, self-indulgent kiss. And through it all, one thing burns into your dizzy mind - his eyes. Maddened, gleaming with slight blue cursed energy in-between your legs. 

“Oh.” you’re gasping at the sheer burning stretch of your thighs being pushed to their limits. Gojo didn’t need that much space - he just loved the way you whined. “You’re s-so much better when you shut- hah!”

His tongue shuts you up by flicking harshly over your puffed-up clit, letting your syrupy juices slide their slow way down his eager tongue. “There we go- good girl, good fuckin’ girl. Hah- all it took was some shitty curse to get you hah- honest like this f’me, huh?” 

“Don’t act like- ngh!” you’re barely able to drawl the words out, which makes him grin a dangerously content grin. Sharp teeth clenching teasingly around your angry clit, throbbing and slicked glisteningly with his spit, “Don’t act like I’m the only one- this way- hah-”

It was true - every hollowed-out suck on your needy clit had him grinding onto the mussed-up mattress. Those silken sheets hiking up with every drag of Gojo’s weepy erection down onto the bed - imagining you underneath him. It wasn’t enough - it never will be. 

That realization was enough for him to break out into a drunken grin, hot tongue smearing open your folds over and over- “Yeah? What about it? Does it scare you that I want to fuckin’ break you, sweetheart?”

He was crazed. 

Dangerous. Depraved. 

“N-no-” you give such a harsh pull on his soft strands, he’s leering up at you with a dragged-out groan. Looking for the life of him so used - you just knew there’d be thousands that would kill to see the strongest so fucked-out, ear blearily blinking open, flushed your favorite shade of pink up to his cheekbones, mouth chasing those thin spit strands to your glossy pussy. “Jus’ think s’unfair how I’m the ah- only one havin’ fun right now.”

You’re shutting up his pussydrunk protests about how he is having fun and to “please, please, please don’t stop” by crashing your soft lips against Gojo’s. Wrenching him upwards, he lets himself be so used. 

“Need you-” you’re gasping, biting into his pouty lower lip. Nosing slowly up his bobbing Adam’s apple, you gasp in that heady combination of pine and candied cherry. “Wanna see if you hngh- taste as good as you smell right now.”

“No fuck- fuck you.” he hisses, wrangling you to straddle his angrily fidgeting hips. 

Running a hand down to fumble with his metallic belt - already loosened. But you don’t have the patience - or the sanity - for that right now, because you’re tugging, shredding. The tell-tale buzz of jujutsu fizzing at your fingertips when you tug down the entirety of Gojo’s pants. Kneading the soft peaks of your palm over that sensitive divot on his head, “Who’s fucking who?” 

“Me.” And there’s another smack! to the heated place of your cunt, Gojo’s own fingertips having you see stars with his power. 

He takes the distraction to just drag you upwards like some ragdoll, easily maneuvering you around. “Turn- turn around f’me- thaaat’s right, fuck-” You’re jostled until your shaky thighs straddle either side of his head, puffed-out pants condensing hotly against your cunt. Your own coming face-to-face with the fat head peeking out from the hem of Gojo’s boxers. Head swimming with how angrily pink he looked, already winking with a drenched sheen of precum up at you. “Arch that cute back a lil’ more- lemme see.”

You’re whirling your head over your shoulders to catch the fucked-out grin on his lips, dragging his tongue out to lap up every bead of your sweet sweet juices, he tilts his pliant head back against the pillows to let it slide down his bobbing throat. “Y-you’re really that pussydr- hngh!” 

Another branding smack! leaves you gushing even more down his tongue. “Yeah, s’what I fuckin’ thought.” he spits out a thick wad of spit into your messy cunt. Gliding his wet fingers over the dripping mess that puddles onto the his chest below. “-can’t even run your mouth- so desperate f’me. Taste so good-” Using his inhuman strength to haul you down onto his pretty face.

Before he knows it, he’s slotting the thin tip of his tongue past your quivering hole. Taking him so greedily, the elastic ring of muscle stretches all around his form, clamping down as if to milk something delicious. 

And Gojo knows - he thinks with whatever’s left of his rationality that maybe he should slow down, take a second to fuckin’ breathe. But, no, he’s making out with your ravaged pussy like he’s angry he hasn’t done this before - way back when he first met you.

A slender fingers pushes past your swollen folds to curl deftly into your gummy cunt, molding up into that easy divots at your walls. He’s feeling around so depravedly for your g-spot, aching to make you feel just a drop of the sheer need he does. 

“Fuck!” Your velvety walls come crashing down around his fingers, knuckle-deep inside your ravenously swallowing cunt. Only getting faster - dipping perfectly to press up against your spongy sweet spots. Shit, he really was good at everything, huh? “You’re so…”

“What was that?” Gojo’s tittering, “Can’t hear you over your cute cunt, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer - you don’t need to, because all the breath in his lungs exhale out in a low cascade. Hiccuping around your candied clit when you take Gojo’s thick, weepy tip just past your lips. Wrapping just around the sensitive slit, it makes him gasp, it makes him keen, it makes him spit out some sloppy swears into your cunt.

“What was that? Can’t hear you over my cunt, Toru–” you bat your lashes, humming around his velvety head. Fuck- if you were in any better state of mind you’d have taken longer admiring him.

Because he was so massive, so pretty with prominent veins thumping at the roof of your mouth. Girthy, rotund end a throbbing red, gradiating into a creamy pink that meshed in delicately with those neat tufts of white at Gojo’s toned pelvis. So delicious. Big enough that you were already wondering just how you were going to walk out of this bedroom - if either of you are in a walking state - or even alive - that is. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” his mouth refuses to part with your puffy pussy lips, even if it was to talk back to you. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ think this is-”

The new angle has his sharp jaw grinding up into you, jostling your body up and down all over his face. He’s whining - heaving - at this point with every sultry swirl of your soft tongue around his twitchy head. Coating down every inch of your silky soft mouth with a hot sheen of precum, he tastes so good on your tastebuds - slightly salty, with a tinge of something so sweetly Gojo. 

Powers acting before him, he doesn’t even realize it before he cheats - just a little. Eyes burning with power when Gojo uses his six eyes to plunge scarily accurately into the plushy bullseye of your g-spot. Greedy fingers hitting it again and again and-

“Satoru!” your scolding tone has his globular tip twitch ferally into the back of your throat. “That’s not- I can feel your jujutsu, y’know. S-so-” 

“What? Good? Heavenly?” Gojo rattles off. You’re fucking your drooling pussy back into him - you can’t stop the mindless, shallow little grinds in an attempt to meet his mean pace. “Never said anythin’ about a jujutsu ban, pretty- you’re sounding like a sore loser to me.” As if on cue, your cunt is gushing out in more silken sweet juices all down the lower half of his face, squelching so obscenely. His droopy eyes admire your glistening cunt, riding his face to his insanity. “Well- not this cunt, of course, in fact- I think she’s gonna cum.”

He didn’t have to tell you - you already knew, with the trembling in your thighs, and the white-hot pleasure stemming from his incessant making out. Without answering, you only swallow up a few more solid, rock-hard inches of his painfully hard cock, lips stretched obscenely. 

“Y-yeah- fuck, now I definitely know you’re close, pretty girl-” he’s lolling out his tongue to let you drag your pussy across harshly. “Don’t be stubborn- cum f’me,” Rough patches of his tastebuds massaging you just right, fingers still pumping recklessly. “Cum f’me- please. Wan’ it on my tongue- want you- want you to use me- please.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re finally cumming, fucking your high over and over Gojo Satoru’s pretty face. He’s wrapping a free hand around the small of your back, just crashing you back into his drunk mouth over and over and–

“F-fuck, Toru–” you whine, toes curling with each crashing wave of pleasure. It was so violent - so dragged-out, like no orgasm you’ve had before. And you didn’t know whether it was because of the technique or the lazy drag of Gojo’s mouth all over every beading inch of your pussy. Your fist tightens around the thick, heated base of his cock, “Need- need you to-”

“No. Fuck-”

In the fleeting millisecond it takes you to blink, your front is being pushed back onto the now-damp sheets again, a grinning Gojo hovering over you. He looked so ruined - smile gleaming with your trickling, dripping precum, eyes crazed. Suddenly, you almost understand why every breathing thing fears him - almost. His eyes were blazing, flushed angrily. “I’m burning- think m’gonna die if I don’t fuck this cunt right now. Fuck-”

“Havin’ to use your powers for everything?” you’re quirking a brow over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me the only reason you brag about being so hah- good in bed is because of that?”

He’s narrowing his glowing eyes, tiny sparks of lightning flying furiously, “Ohhh s’that a challenge, sweetheart?” Gojo’s sharp canines tug on your bottom lip, and you moan into the messy clash of a kiss - all spit and teeth and the taste of you two. “Tell me.”

“So what if it is?” you’re managing to push back against his slender waist. “Without those stupid powers, m’the better…”

Whatever insult was on the tip of our tongue dies down at the glint of the foil in his hand - the condom from before. That tiny square looking so pitiful held between two fingers, “The receptionist gave me an XL, funny, right?” Gojo murmurs, so dark. “Such a shame it won’t fit.”

One daring glance downwards proves him right - because Gojo was sitting so heftily sandwiched between your swollen folds. Painfully beading needy pearls of translucent precum all over your front - fuck, your cockdrunk self from before didn’t recall him being so large. Big enough that you were sure any rubber would be on the verge of shattering into little pieces.

So then go in raw- you think. But before the words can tumble out of your mind, he’s giving a slow, slippery slide on your cunt, “S’alright- with these ah- ‘stupid powers’ m’still gonna get a taste of this pretty cunt.”

And then you can’t breathe - fuck, you can’t even think straight.

You feel like you’re being split-apart, because Gojo’s just barely pushing in the fat, round girth of his head. Managing to pop in his long shaft past that sensitive slit, before his body starts moving in hurried, impatient little grinds. Frantically trying to squeeze himself in deeper- “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, even with limitless you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Limitless - fuck, that’s what it was. You could feel the slight pinch of the pressure around your body, the way he was reaching in so deep inside your velvety cunt despite not even being halfway inside yet. 

“Satoru-” 

“No-” his flickering eyes bore deep into yours. “Not that- call out f’me properly now, I know that smart mouth of yours can do it.”

Your words are barely a whisper, “Toru–”

The remaining lamp at your left goes out - cracking into tiny shards. And that’s all it takes for him to push and push in, distantly, Gojo knows he should slow down, maybe give you a second to relax - to think. But he could feel his sanity dancing away with every fucking inch fed into your sopping wet pussy, your elastic walls contorting to massage every ridge and vein of his so heavenly. Fuck- he’d fight a thousand more of those special grades just for another taste of this feeling. 

“Oh-” Gojo’s jaw hangs slack when he finally bullies past that feeble resistance of yours. The very top curve of his head nudging deeply in a glissading glide down your spongy cervix, heavy balls kissing against your ass. 

He lets himself be pulled, used like some filthy toy when your hot tongue cranes to lap up the trail of drool down the corner of his drunken mouth. 

“Wanna feel you-” you’re gasping through each thorough, steady ram into your snug channel. “Wanna feel all of you.”

Another memorable slap! resounds through the heady air, sending sparks exploding behind your lids. “Heh- s’this your way of hah- having me stop using my powers?” he chuckles. “I’m onto your dirty, dirty tricks, y’know.”

Truly, he wasn’t. Gojo didn’t think he had enough of his brain unfried to even contemplate that right about now. But it was just so much fun to watch you mewl in protest, your cunt dripping even further down his twitchy balls with each taunt. 

“Please- fuck m’burning up-” you spit. “Scared s’gonna have you c-cumming early?”

As a punishment - or maybe a little reminder about who really was the strongest, Gojo infuses his next sharp smack on your clit with an ounce of his jujutsu. The curve of his thumb gliding over in tiny circles to soothe over the buzz, “Talk to me when you can say “cumming” without hngh- stutterin’-”

“Talk to me when you-” Growling into the crook of your neck, it’s all he can do right now to bow his hulking body even deeper into yours, kneeing apart your stutteringly closing thighs. There’s a sloppy, milky ring forming where your folds kept smacking repeatedly against the sharp lines of his pelvis, “-can fuck me without your limitless going haywire.”

Fuck- fuck, how he wanted to prove you wrong. To have you crying out for mercy.

But Gojo’s throat drags out in what almost sounds like a cry when his limitless flickers on and off - just for a second. The mere touch of your slippery soft walls around his hot cock making him just slam down an arm on the headrest. It breaks - shattering into tiny wooden pieces, though, neither of you notice right now. 

He’s maneuvering the two of you so easily to push you onto your back. Stuffing your gaping entrance back full again, this time throwing your limp legs onto his broad shoulders to pummel you in such a mean mating press. Just the sight of your fucked-out, pretty face has his ragged breath hitching, “S-sweetheart…” 

Whatever answer you give is tangled up in Gojo’s drunken tongue, lapping at your words. His cock feels so heavy, so hot shoving between your legs. And the stretch - fuck, the stretch was something you’d always remember. Stretching out that tight hole into the very girth of his shaft - all the way down from his leaky, flinching head to the thick circumference of his hilt. “I don’t think I can- fuck, can I feel- please, m’dying to know what this cunt feels like-”

Your nails rake down the pale display of his back, those red, red jagged lines making him rut even deeper into you. “Do it then-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Oh.

Fuck. 

It’s like something shatters - maybe limitless, maybe his restraint. Because Gojo’s eyes just fall shut in pure ecstasy, aching cock growing even larger inside you - as if that was even possible. Expanding tautly at your walls, he’s forming you so sinfully around his shape. 

“Oh-oh– fuck you feel- how the fuck do you feel so good?” His free hand dips down to roll a depraved thumb over the nub of your neglected clit, catching on your bulgingly-stretched folds. “Holy shit- think m’gonna pass out- think m’gonna die.”

“Hah-” your back arches up sluttily into his around the fifth consecutive time his rough cockhead was grazing so perfectly against your g-spot, fingers buzzing with electricity at your clit. “You’re s-so weak-”

But it didn’t matter, did it? Because all you could do was hiss out a few wet gurgles into Gojo’s mouth, blinking in the sinful sight of him with his eyes so hooded, cheeks burning with a scorching blush, mouth dangling so addictively open while he sucked your tongue. Like he didn’t even realize what he was doing - how each pressurized thrust into your gummy pussy had the lights overhead flickering, sparks of blue lightning bolting from the corners of his mouth at the same sloppy staccato as his hips. How it made you cum. 

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you’re gasping at the feeling of your toe-curling high, shots of pure pleasure running through your body. Convulsing up over and over into his weighty body, “Feels so good- m’cumming m’cumming ah-” 

Crack! 

And then it’s dark.

Hell, Gojo barely even realized when he does, too, shooting out creamy white ribbon after ribbon of seed with a soft, shuddering gasp of your name. And it’s the only thing on his usually-sharp tongue - voice cracking pathetically, when he whines it like a little mantra over and over and-

“Oh-” his five, long fingers splay out across your lower stomach - right where he could feel his own cock twitching wildly at the very bottom of your gooey pussy. Pressing down, hard. “Oh shit- just look at how you’re painted white from the inside-”

The lights were gone out - in all the wards of Tokyo, actually - and yet in the light of the slight flickers of electricity surrounding you two, you could spy the slow, syrupy glob of his cum down your thighs. Coating his hilt in a milky gloss, it sticks to the two of you like a sloppy second skin. “And you expect me to- hah- not go insane.”

You manage out a wet chuckle, too tired to notice how the bed was missing a headboard now. How all the furniture in the hotel room was trashed - as if it’d been slammed down from several feet above. “Hah- b-blame it on the sex pollen.”

The technique has him cumming more than usual, every new wave sloshing at your insides is followed by another - and another until Gojo’s cock felt so raw. Twitching sensitively in a way that brought big fat tears pricking at his eyes, and yet, he still fucks you so harshly into the mattress. Sucking out every remaining dredge of seed in those fat, cum-filled balls thwacking! at your skin. Sloppy. Depraved. Oh, he looked so ruined - like a man that crawled back from death, only to drag you down with him. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Gojo drags his swollen lips down your earlobe. Voice shot, “I don’t think the sex pollen is done yet.”

---

“Trashed all across the floor, trashed furniture - especially in room 143 - Hokkaido still doesn’t even have power.” Yaga’s bellowing voice has you sinking ashamedly further and further into his office seat. 

Gojo, however, only beams, throwing an arm around the edge of your chair, “Damn- we should really try to send out the power in all of Asia next time, huh, my pretty girl?”

“Out!”

Across the hallway, three first-years eagerly (well, two of them and a reluctant Megumi) peer into the tense meeting. Wondering what exactly happened in your last mission that caused a record-level amount of property damage and the power to still flicker on and off throughout the day.

Yuji is the first one to speak up, “Well, no one’s dead but- why does the air seem so-” he gestures towards the almost non-existent space between you and Gojo - not anything out of the usual, sure, but the one thing different was the lack of threats. “-weird.” he finishes. 

“Tell me about it. That Gojo almost seems…” Nobara shudders in disgust. “...happy.”

And of course, at that very moment, the man of the hour himself turns to look straight at the first-years doing a poor job of hiding themselves behind the door. Sighing overly-loudly, “If you say so, Yaga~” Intertwining his fingers with yours to pull you up with him, “We had a date anyway.”

“A date?”

“A date?!”

“I win.” All eyes - including yours and Gojo’s turn towards the usually-quiet Megumi, his lips turned into the beginnings of a smile. Almost. “You both owe me ten thousand yen.”

A/N. Hope you babygirls have a good weekkkk!!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[hoshigray]

����𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 | toji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Your ex-husband bringing the kids over for trick-or-treating is one thing; him wanting to spend the night at your place is another. But it's just for the night. There's no way one night can rekindle some old feelings...right?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: ex-husband! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - the reader is around their mid-30s - Tsumiki (age 11) and Megumi (age 9) - mutual pining - kissing/makeout sessions - unprotected sex - Daddy kink - breast sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - spooning + mating press - cervix fucking - breeding kink - praise - clitoral play (pressing and grinding) - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie, sweet thing) - you and Toji have been divorced for five years - cameos: Gojo, Utahime and Mei Mei - mention of drool/spit and tears - humor bc I'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k (....dawg.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: happy Halloween, everyone!! so, randomly missed writing ex-husband! toji bc it's lowkey my favorite, soooo yeah, this is what we're doing to celebrate the end of the month! anywho, happy October, beautiful ppl, and tysm for reading my works!! Alsooo, ty for 2.8k!!!

“Trick-or-treat!!”

“Gasp—Oh my goodness!” 

“We came to celebrate Halloween! Also, Megumi forgot his toothbrush here again.”

Opening your door to children at the sunset of Halloween day isn’t out of the ordinary or anything special. However, it’s always a pleasant surprise when it’s two kids you hold dear to your heart. You greet them with a hug, two siblings you know too well to say you’re acquainted with. If anything, you’re practically family. 

The raven-haired brother, referred to as Megumi, speaks up. “It’s not my fault! Dad was rushing me last time.”

“Because you had to bring your stuffed animals last time, holding us back for your baseball practice.” Tsumiki, the older sister, snapped back. The two argue amongst themselves in front of you as you try to mediate. It’s no avail until another voice comes to the fray.

“All right, chill out, you two.” The voice belonged to the person approaching the porch stairs, your eyesight capturing the familiar figure walking up with two duffle bags. The one standing tall before you was the father of the children, Toji Fushiguro. Who’s also known as your one and only former husband. “Get inside and finish y’r homework, or else we’re goin’ back home.” 

The siblings stop bickering and head inside, taking off their shoes at the foyer and walking upstairs. Now that they’re gone, you turn to the man with the jet-black hair, his viridian orbs focused on you. The weather was chilly, so the man wore his usual dark denim jacket over his plain black sweatshirt, matching his jeans. “You look good, big guy. What’s in the bags?”

He greets you with a curled lip, and the scar on the side of his lip lifts. “Picked them up from their after-school sports, so it’s their sports gear and costumes for tonight. Mind helpin’ me here?” 

“Hmmm,” you merge your facial expressions to that of faux pondering, turning your back to Toji. “Nah, can’t. Got dinner to finish making.”

“Hmph, should’ve known.” He makes his way through between you and the front door. “Wouldn’t wanna break your pretty nails carrying heavy shit, huh, princess?” 

You glare at him using the nickname, hating his patronizing gaze. “From what I remembered, you would never let me carry the heavy stuff because you thought I was too fragile and easy to break. So how about that, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor?”

“Really? I don’t remember sayin’ all that before. You must’ve put me in a spell.” 

“Probably, I’ve been told I’m quite cute~.”

“Mmm, nah, more like an old hag of a witch.” Toji barks a laugh at your offended reaction, and he immediately ducks and heads for the stairs when you throw a sandal at him.

“At the very least, say I’m a cute witch, fucker.” You say the final word under your breath, grabbing the sandal you threw and heading back to the kitchen.

To say you and Toji were acquainted with one another would be the biggest understatement of the century. The two of you met a decade ago, fell madly in love, and married within a year of the relationship. When you tied the knot, Tsumiki had to have been two years old, and Megumi just turned one year old. You two had been together for four years after that, and you could confidently say those were one of [if not THE] best years of your life. You often second-guessed yourself being in a relationship with someone who had children, fearing that they wouldn’t like you or ignore you.

However, those worries were blown right away as the days went by. Every time you spent time with the children brought you three closer than ever; it was to the point that they saw you as their mother. How sweet! And there’s no denying that Toji loved you. The man would break someone’s nose for you  — yes, it happened before, and it wasn’t pretty — for you were his sweet little thing that kept him going.  

Well, if it was so great, why the divorce? Let’s just say you weren’t Toji’s first love. That title would have to be awarded to the Megumi’s mother. Even in her unfortunate passing, you can tell that Toji loved that woman like no other. It didn’t make you jealous or anything, seeing the man you love still mourn for a dead woman. Hell, you’d probably do the same if you were him. But, you can’t lie; it felt like you were cast over a “shadow” when it came to her influence. It was damn near suffocating to bear, especially in those four years of marriage. So, for your sake and his aching heart, you pulled him aside and suggested a divorce. And Toji didn’t fight you on the proposition, signing the papers and setting you free from the thick air.

Although things ended between you two, that didn’t mean things stopped being what they were. If anything, it was as if nothing happened at all. Even if you still don’t live under the same roof, you still make time to hang with the Fushiguros, whether invited to some occasion or exchange phone calls or texts to check up on them. Even now, five years after your separation, it warms your heart knowing that you get to interact with the people you care about. 

There are moments you find yourself missing living under the same roof with all three of them and living alone can be pretty lonely. But all in all, as long as they’re comfortable and trust you enough to be around, there’s no need to change things up again. Like right now — the four of you sit at the dinner table eating before the kids go off trick-or-treating.

“Are you going to trick-or-treat with us, Y/n?” The brown-haired child sitting next to you asks while finishing up her dinner. 

“Sorry, not this time, gotta be at a Zoom meeting for my job in a few minutes. But I do have someone else to take my place. Gojo will be here at around—Why are you two making that face?” You stop mid-sentence to notice Megumi and Toji at the other side of the table, displaying disgusted facial expressions at the mention of the white-haired other’s name.

“Why him?” They said in unison.

“Why not??” You question their irritation.

“He’s so annoying…” Again, in unison. Proof enough that they’re father and son.

You sigh as you get up to take your plate to the sink. “Oh, come on, you two, it’s not like he’ll be with you guys the entire night. He has a party at a friend’s he’s going to later.” 

“Isn’t he too old to trick-or-treat?” Tsumiki questions, noting that Gojo is way past his undergraduate years. 

“He is, but whatever gets that prick any free sweets,” Toji answers his daughter before getting up to put his dish in the sink. 

You exit the kitchen, head into the living room, and sit on the couch. The laptop you had placed there was ready to open and unlock, and you clicked on applications and windows to look through before your meeting started in the next three to two minutes. He should be here about—

DING-DONG!!

Now.

Right on cue, you motion for Toji to grab the front door, and he follows your command. “Kids, Gojo’s here!” You shout out to the two kids who still sit at the table. “When you’re done eating, you can go upstairs and put your costumes on. But whoever finishes last has to do the dishes.” You can hear commotion from the table as the brunette rushes to put her dish in the sink and dash for the stairs. Megumi groans to himself; you giggle when you hear him mutter an “Aww man…”

You pull out your headphones to connect to your laptop, put them in their respective ears, and prepare yourself for the meeting. Ignoring the faint passive-aggressive tones of your ex-husband when greeting Gojo at the door…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Your eyes flutter open, noticing the lighting change around the living room. The orange sunlight no longer decorated the space, substituted with the gradual darkness that overtakes you. The only source of light you can figure out is the flashing from the television screen.

Aside from the TV, there are no other signs of life. There aren’t any signs of Tsumiki or Megumi around playing or causing a raucous. It could only mean the two are still trick-or-treating with Gojo. 

One blink, two blinks. I must’ve fallen asleep after the meeting… You hum while sinking to the couch, burying your face into the pillow. 

But…since when did your pillow act like it was breathing with a heartbeat? And…I smelt that cologne before…How?

“Ya awake now?”

You raise your head, realizing you are not lying on your couch. Technically, you were; however, you were lying on something else on the furniture with you – more like someone. 

It’s then you realize that you were lying on Toji during your entire slumber, him leaning on the end of the couch, one leg spread to make room for you to sleep on him while you sit on the other. And you can guess that you had your head on his chest, snuggling up to his warm figure. He looks at you with his green eyes now darkened by the room, yet you can see their glow from the television light. And that small smile he gives you, the scar on the right side of his lip lifted upward. The familiar butterflies in your stomach flutter like before. Like old times sake…That must be embarrassing, huh?

You frantically try to get off of him, “Sorry about that, I thought—“

“No, no,” Toji places a stern hand on your back, keeping you from moving further. “You were comfortable.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds until your face contours to a look, and a smile starts to creep up while you situate yourself back to your original position, pressing your face back on his chest to listen to the beats of his heart again. “I recall having this couch all to myself not too long ago, so where’d you come from?”

“Well, I wanted to watch some sports highlights, but I figured you’d kick my ass if I pulled you off and had you sleep on the floor instead.” With the click of your tongue, he chortles. You bet your ass I would. “So, I decided to have ya sleep on me while I watch TV.”

“What’s wrong with the other side of the couch? It’s quite vacant and enough for a big guy like you.” 

“True,” his hand rubs circles on your back, an old habit he did when he used to have you like this. “But then I’d be lonely.” 

You titter. “That’s big for someone who said he thrives on being alone.”

“I thrive being alone when I’m working.” You’re glad he can’t see your eyes roll; he’d probably grab you by the cheeks like a child. “Besides, why would I wanna be alone when I have you for myself.”

And there it is, your cheeks begin to warm up. Or was it because you’re so close to him that his heat is transferring to you? That’s probably it, yeah. Let’s change the subject…”How long was I out for? I remember the kids left around 7:30-ish.”

“Mmm, it’s going to eleven right now.”

Three and a half hours? Damn. “It’s past their bedtime.”

Toji scoffs. The abrupt motion of his chest rising is satisfying in a way that makes you even more comfortable. “You still think they’re gonna sleep with all that sweet shit they got?” He snickers some more as you shake your head.

“They know better. When you guys get home, be sure to put their candy bags on the top shelf of the closet for the morning.” 

“Still traumatized from that one time?” 

“Uhhh, yes??” The memory flashes to you for a quick moment, but the dread from before still haunts you. Megumi was six years old and Tsumiki seven, returning home from trick-or-treating and immediately tasting their labor from that night. However, what you didn’t expect was for them both to eat almost half their bags. Let’s just say, thanks to their sugar rushes, they didn’t drop dead until the hour hand touched two of the morning. “Unless it’s the weekend, never again.”

The way the older man chuckles is so therapeutic — it nearly makes you want to fall asleep again. “You weren’t the one chasin' Megumi all over the place tryin' to get him to sleep. Little squirt gets his speed from me.”

“Awww, poor you~” You can sense the glare as you respond in a condescending, sing-song tune. “You and him are always butting heads. Like father, like son.”

“Tch, hate that sayin’ so fuckin’ much.”

“Why? ‘Because it’s true?”

“Shut up.” The hand he used to rest his head comes down to pinch your nose. You wriggle out of his hold with giggles, but he happily keeps you grounded to him with his stronghold and a leg wrapped around to prevent yours from moving. “He only listens to you. Such a sweet lil’ baby to you, huh? Puttin’ my own son against me.”

More giggles prompt out of tiny guilt, and you bring up a hand to rub on his chest. “He’s such a bright boy now. Growing up so big and fast.”

“Miki, too. That girl is way too smart fr' me to catch up. And she’s becoming so kind and strong, crazy to think she made me play teacups when she could barely go down the stairs by herself.” Toji hums, the vibrations felt on the pads of your fingers. “Think she gets that from you.” 

You shook your head. “They’re your babies. They do amazing things because they have a big guy like you to catch them if they ever fall.”

“Hmm, fair…But let’s not pretend I’m the best dad in the world. Fuck, never in my life did I think I’d be a dad, especially with two kids. I didn’t know shit back then — still! I still don’t know shit.” You don’t say anything, just listening to him voice his thoughts to you. Because he knows you’d listen – you always do. “If you weren’t there for them, I don’t think they’d be shining like this. Y’re definitely the thing that brought us up together. They look up to you so much. Ya did so well with them.”

Nodding aimlessly, his black sweatshirt grazing on your cheek. “Thank you. Same to you. Didn’t do so bad yourself, big guy.”

“Mmm.”

Nothing is said between you two after that. The only thing that makes noise is the voices coming from the television. The volume lowered, an initiative you could guess from Toji wanting you to get some rest. The silence was too awkward that it might torture some, but it was fine where it was. There was no need to change it, especially when you were comfortable in each other’s embrace.

That is, until Toji asks, “Do you miss it?” The rubs on your back go slower, his fingertips drawing a ticklish sensation.

“Of course I do. All the time.” You answer honestly, turning your head to rest your chin on him. Your eyes glimpse directly at his, giving him a tiny grin. “Why ask? I know the kids miss me being around; what about you? Miss me nagging and putting you to work all the time?”

He sneers at your comment. “Every day.”

It was such a simple answer, yet it had the power to wipe that smirk right off your face. Your eyes locked in his sight, and your heart tuning to an irregular rhythm. Oh, come on, Y/n, get a grip! “Ahem—Toji, I hope you know that I never stopped missing everything we had — I never will. Those years that we shared were probably the best I’ve had. We had happy moments, others sad, of course. But, God, do I miss it all. I miss it so much. I miss having you guys here. Miki and Gumi and—“

“Me?” Good Lord, if this man doesn’t stop looking at you with those goddamn eyes of his, such captivating orbs that say more than he lets on. Your breath hitches, and so does the hand on your back. “Hmm? Ya miss me, baby?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why’d you have to call me that? And it gets worse when he places his free hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin while the forefinger teases the lobe and tragus of your ear. Goddammnit…

“...Yes,” your voice was down a whisper, which could easily be mistaken with the television. But you know Toji heard you, loud and clear. “Especially you, Toji.” You said it. The words that he wanted to hear from you. They felt so forbidden to say, yet it was the truth. You avert your gaze away from him. But you knew that wouldn’t work, not right now. Toji taps your cheek with his thumb, and your eyes sheepishly return to his.

He doesn’t say anything, and that makes your heart beat at an unbearable rate. It’s all you can hear when you stare into his deep emerald eyes, the sound of it ringing your eardrums as if you could puke. Your throat running dry, so you gulp to ease the uncomfortable bob. If something could just happen to end this anxious torture, that would be great. 

And then your prayers get answered: something does happen. Toji slowly brings his face closer to yours — your body goes rigid, and you instantly face away before the inevitable happens. No, I didn’t mean that!

“Aht aht, don’t do that, baby.” His hand slithers from your cheek to your chin, forcing you to face straight at him. “Lemme see you.”

“Toji, wait,” your voice travels out in a shaky breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We can’t cross this line anymore.”

He listens to your pleas, but his body does otherwise. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead while the hand on your back snakes downward. “Why not?” His gruff voice dialed down to a whisper.

“Because—Mmmm…” Toji interrupts you by licking the helix of your ear. Oh, you slick bastard. “We’re supposed to be done…” 

“That’s not stoppin’ me from takin’ care of my sweet thing.” Jesus Christ, you almost melted from the way he whispered that to your ear. He’s pulling out all the same old tricks, and it gets more hellish by the second as you try not to give in. “So, y're gonna let me take care of you like I always do, right, mama?”

Both his hands now rest on your ass, groping it while your hips sway as if they have a mind of their own. The leg between yours comes up slightly, making you ride on it. The heat on your cheeks has already blossomed to your ears, making it hard to think straight. Gripping his sweatshirt, your hips ride his thigh to ease the throbbing sensation that grows with every motion. Good God, you shouldn’t be doing this. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. However, it’s been so long that you felt wanted like this — wanted by him. It’s all the same – his voice, his hands, his words, his body, and the names he calls – yet here you are turning into putty. 

“Haaahh, Mmmfff…Toji, please,” Toji withdraws his face from your shoulder, leaving him to examine your expression. You must look so dumb right now, with your hooded eyes and shivering lips. But, at this point, do you even care? “Please…Treat me right.”

One moment, you see his gaze narrow with a devious glint. Next, you’re taken aback when Toji slams his lips on yours, kissing and sucking your bottom lip until you give him access. With a moan, you open your mouth for him and sink deeper into the kiss. Your hands come around his neck, keeping him focused on you and you alone. Not that he would have it any other way.

His strong hands continue to knead your asscheeks while you hump and grind on his thigh. Nibbling on your lip, you whimper helplessly for him. It strokes his ego, knowing he’s making you like this, the fucking bastard. He takes in your tiny cries happily, shoving his tongue to play with yours. You give in to him, almost losing your balance riding his thigh, yet Toji’s lips never leave yours.

You break the kiss to get an imperative breath, panting loudly and sweetly for him as Toji kisses and licks your ear. The sounds make your lower region twitch. “Hnnmm, fuck…That’s my girl. So fuckin’ good fr’ me always, Y/n…” You can feel him slide a hand up to the hem of your leggings, forcing it inside for his thick fingers to brush up on the bare flesh of your butt. You gasp sharply. Him squeezing your butt has you biting down on his sweatshirt. “—Hahhh, Oh God, Toji,” With every squeeze, he inches closer to your panty-covered chasm, where you know he’d find a damp spot. Please touch me. Please, please, plea—

CLACK-CLINK!!

The two of you are frozen stiff when you hear the sound of the door opening and closing, the foyer lights turned on. “Alright~, we got you guys home. See ya later!” That was Gojo’s voice, indicating everyone was finally back from trick-or-treating. This means that Tsumiki and Megumi are about to see you on top of their father, his hand in your leggings and smacking lips with yours. Your eyes shoot wide with horror — immediately remove yourself from Toji and stand up from the couch to pull your bottoms up. You barely had the chance to peek at Toji because the kids already run to the living room to find you two.

“Y/n, Y/n, look!” The brunette was the first to greet you with her adorable pink Barbie cowgirl costume. She and her brother, dressed as Sasuke Uchiha, cheerfully showcased their pillowcases full of candy. “Look at all this candy we got!”

“Wooow, you guys really went on a haul,” you can only hope they can’t see you sweating bullets through your fake reaction. “Wh–Where’s Gojo?” 

“He dropped us off here a few seconds ago and left for the party,” The raven-haired boy answered while scanning his pillowcase.

You only nod along until you frantically wipe your mouth, realizing the tiny trail of spit from the corner of your mouth. “Umm—Ahem, well then, I’m glad you two got all that candy. Now, let’s hurry up and get you guys home so you can get ready for school tomorrow!” 

But the children didn’t move an inch. Actually, they looked like they were going to tell you something. You lift a brow. Oh no, they’re going to look at each other. They looked at each other and then glanced back at you. Oh, God, no. “Uhhh, Y/n, we were thinking.” Big sister Tsumiki is always the one who asks the following question. “Can we stay over?”

You inhale a massive breath, yet you do your best not to exhale a heavy sigh. “Kids, you promised to keep the overnight stays to three at max per month. This will be the fifth!” 

“Yeah, but it’s dark out. Plus, it’s way past our bedtime.” The younger chimes in with a tiny pout. “We’ll be asleep by the time Dad gets us home.”

And here comes Tsumiki with the tag-team response to add on. “And that means he’ll have to make continuous trips back and forth from the car. Picking me and Megumi up, getting our bookbags, the bags full of candy, the whole thing! We already packed up our PJs just in case.” 

You stood there staring at the two in astonishment. There’s no way they thoroughly planned this out. There’s just no way… And to make it worse, they were making valid arguments. You open your mouth to say something, but the two give the best puppy eyes they can. The wave of guilt hits like a train, internally cringing. You turn to Toji, who still sits on the couch, and the motherfucker only gives you a shrug. Wow, what a helpful father he is.

You groan into your hands, shaking your head while looking at the kids who wait for your verdict. “…Alright, you can stay as long as you PROMISE to put those candy bags in my bedroom closet. Deal?” The happy smiles and aggressive head shakes should answer your question. “Good, now go ahead and take your showers before you head for bed.” They rushed to the stairs by the time you finished that sentence, so enthusiastic about staying the night at your house, and you can’t help but smile hearing their footsteps run up the stairs. 

With that being said, you turn to the older man again. Your brows are trenched down, but your smile is still present. “So, you legit just sat there and let those two tag-team me like that? In my own house?”

Another shrug with a dumb smirk on his handsome face. “Told you: too smart fr’ me to catch up.” You shake your head before exiting to get the kids and guest rooms ready, leaving him with the television. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The midnight hour has finally danced its way into the darkness of the night. Halloween is finally over, and the month of October is no more. The pitter-patter sound of the rain cleanses the neighborhood of its merits and festivities that partook hours ago, ready for a new phase of the year to take over.

After having the guest room ready with sheets and sleepwear for Toji and kissing the kids goodnight, you rinse your stress off with a nice shower and put on your pajamas to get ready for bed. After you turn the lights off, you drape the comforter over your figure as your body sinks with the cozy sheets and pillowcase. Your eyes close while focusing on the curtains of your window, the only light piercing inside being the lampposts by the street. 

…Well, at least that’s what’s supposed to happen. But that’s not the case because you’re not the only one lying comfortably on your mattress. Instead, Toji is here with you, in your room, on your bed, his chest to your back, and his hand roaming inside your oversized shirt. Your lips are now connected with his, sharing your erotic moans with his enticing groans, and you get a little louder as his fingers cup and play with your breast.

“Mmphh…Ahhhh, I thought I told you you’re sleeping in the guest room—Nmmff!” He tweezes your nipple with his forefinger and thumb roughly.  

“And I thought you’d be smart enough to know that wasn’t gonna happen.” Toji kisses the crook of your neck, drawing near your ear for him to whisper. “Besides, look at you. Still sleepin’ with no underwear on?”

“Hmph, only when I have a man around the house.” That answer got you another rough tweak on your nip and a purposeful gnaw to your ear. You knew he’d react like that, never liking the mention of another man leaving your mouth – especially during an intimate time like this.

“That so? What man you know that can handle all this?” Toji then moves from his side to be between your legs, pulling up your shirt to fully expose your chest. And your breathe hitches while his free hand travels down your abdomen to your bottoms.

“Ahhhh, no one. Just you...” You look at him with half-lidded eyes, taking in his reaction to what you said. The salacious grin on his face becoming broader should entail that he greatly loved that retort.

He brings his face to your other unattended nipple, “Good answer, princess.” The nub of your breast enters his mouth, and the wet warmth of his tongue greets it with lapped motions and grazes from his teeth. Despite that, it doesn’t distract you from the fact your bottoms are pulled down with ease and are thrown to the bedroom floor, leaving your cunt out for him, your erotic fluids seeping and glistening from the outside lights. 

Toji plays with your folds until he can stuff his pointer finger into your chasm, the insertion resulting in your body’s jolt. It’s been a long while since you had his thick digit inside you, playing and scraping the inner walls to evoke whimpers. God, it felt so good, this satisfying feeling returning to awaken your body to his touch. He interacts with your body as if he’s the only person who knows how to get you going – and it’s the truth. No one can put you in a blissful haze quicker than this man. And you’d prefer to keep it that way. 

The addition of his middle finger into your leaky entrance startles you, the thick digit making its way in with such vigor that he uses both fingers to scrape the velvety texture of your walls. Your eyes are now screwed shut at the growing commotion between your thighs, and the heat within your body flourishing all around gets to your head. “—Khmm, Oh fuuck, Toji. Please, don’t stop.” 

With a soft ‘pop’ noise from his lips, Toji replies to your demands. “I’m sorry, what’s my name again?” You giggle with trenched brows. Of course, how could I forget?

“Nmmph, D-Daddy, pleaseee, I’m so clo—Ahhhann!!” He puts his thumb to your clit, grinding down on it unexpectedly. “I wanna cum, pleaseee…”

“Hmmm, good girl,” he teased, laying down kisses, nibbling on the skin of your stomach and inner thighs until he arrives at your leaking slit. Your body jerks up from the bed when you feel the cold, wet muscle slowly lick on your clitoris before ravaging your folds. The sounds of his mouth on your cunt are so lewd to the ear, slurping noises from his lips with the lapping motions of his tongue claiming your come are too much for you. And when he uses his hand to swipe and pinch your clit? Oh, it’s a wrap. Your release comes out without control, biting down on your bottom lip to make sure your cries don’t leave this space for the kids to hear. Their room is on the other side down the hall; tonight isn’t the night for too many risks.

When your trembling body calms down and subsides, Toji withdraws his face from between your thighs. Your essence paints his mouth, and he wipes his chin clean while licking the remnants that coat his scarred lips. “Hmph, missed tastin’ you like that.” You open your eyes when your high finally evades you, watching your ex-husband pull down his sweats. His erection springs out and hits his stomach, your mind going rampant with thoughts as you ogle at his freed limb. Shit, it’s been so long. Will that shit even fit me again?

“Don’t think it’ll fit, baby?” Damn him, he loves teasing you. Toji then discards his black wife-beater, at long last revealing his well-built, brawny physique that has you drooling for him. He uses his hands to maneuver your legs—your knees pushed to your chest as your legs propped up on his shoulders. A position you’re all too familiar with. Your eyes don’t leave Toji’s cock as he aligns his cock to your slick-coated folds. “Take some breaths fr’ me, sweetie. Can’t take care of you when you’re all tense.”

You take up on his advice and begin taking deep breaths, reminding yourself to maintain the steady pattern as he pushes the tip of his dick between the lips of your cunt. Every inhale is where he nudges into the hole of your inner cavern, and every exhale gives you time to breathe out the pain that comes in for a split second. This carries on until the cockhead wedges itself perfectly into your vagina, along with the inches of his girth that stretches until the base kisses your lips, the tip of him kissing your cervix. Tears swell up in your eyes, taking more deep breaths to prepare yourself for what’s about to come. 

“Oooh fuuuck…Heh, yeah, that’s my baby right there. Fittin’ so perfect fr’ me, mama…” He puts his weight on you, keeping your figure unmoving under his bow. 

“Nmmmf, Daddyyy,” you’re forced to take in all of him, and drool trails down your lips with no hope of taking care of it. “…I’m so full, you’re too much…”

“I know, sweetie, I know.” He wipes your spit after kissing your forehead. How gentle compared to what you’re about to go through. “Gonna move now.” His thrusts start slow for the two of you to adjust to each other; the feeling of his length’s veins coming in and out of your chasm is so euphoric, and the kisses to your cervix want your body to writhe and squirm. But you’re bent into this position for a reason: forced to submit to him no matter what. So you do just that.

Yet your horny haze gets more potent once he picks up the pace, rutting into you with increased speed. Your slit, still sensitive from earlier, gets overstimulated with the constant grazes on your gummy walls and jabs to your tender cervix. It takes everything in your power not to come so early.

“—Hahhhh, Nmmph. Oh, shit, shit, shit…” Toji groans above you, the thrusts of his pelvis increase to an irregular rhythm, grinding deep into your cunt to the point of uncontrollable babbles escaping your lips. His bullying on your insides results in you gripping his length hard, causing the older man to hiss and moan at your contractions. “—Ohhhfuuuckk!! Jesus Christ, baby. Y’re gonna make me go crazy.” 

As if that wasn’t already happening now that he pistons his cock into your wetness, your brain turning into mush from the onslaught of ruts to your puffy wet chasm. Tears stream down your face, and more drool follows down with more precise hits to your delicate canal. The pounding in your head makes it hard to think of anything else, the squelching noises and paps of Toji’s balls hitting your cunt making it worse. 

“D-Daddyyy, I’m—Ohoooo!! Oh, Jesus, ohhhshit!” You can’t formulate a proper sentence, too engulfed with the electrifying sensations coursing through your body. 

“Damn, you feel too fucking good—Hnngh!!” Toji places his forehead on yours, resting his entire weight on you while his hips have a mind of their own. “‘Bout to make me knock you up…”

Oh, good Lord. The mere thought of having a child is the last thing that should be on your mind. But in a time like this, who in their right mind would be thinking straight? “Nnnfff! Oh God, pleaseee, fill me up, Daddyy!” Green eyes narrow with trenched brows. “—Pleasepleasepleaseee!! I want you to fill me up so bad, I want it, I want—Hyaaaaa!!” 

How can he deny your desperate, teary pleas when you’re urging him on like this? “Heh, you’re so fuckin’ sexy, mama.” Toji captures your lips with his, your mewls taken by him as you sink further into your pleasurable thrill.

Sporadic thrusts of his pelvis produce more raunchy noises in the joining of your sexes, his heavy balls smacking on your cunt as he drives the base of his cock straight into you. Your slit is now a puffy mess, come and slick form a soapy mess that Toji now harbors a milky ring around his girth. A few rushed, sloppy thrusts heighten your high once more, and then Toji presses his pelvis down to the hilt on one final, harsh thrust, unloading his seed into your aching folds. And your climax follows in a few seconds, the walls of your cunt fluttering on his pulsating dick as your essence soaks him. Your muffled shrieks are received by him, quivering under him until the aftershocks wash through your body. 

Once you two breathe at a steady tempo and the nerves of your sweaty bodies fall still, the kiss is broken with heavy pants and a string of spit that links you two together. Toji buries his face between your neck and shoulder, licking and kissing your skin as you’re allowed time to experience your clarity.

“Hmmm…You know I’m not done yet, princess.” Toji mumbles to your ear before stationing your legs off his shoulders for them to rest.

“Yeah, I know, big guy.” You tease him with a breathless laugh, kissing him on the temple. “Always wanting more…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…So, you’re telling me you had your ex-husband spend the night? Not just the kids?”

“Yup, that’s what happened.” 

This morning was different from your usual routine – well, you can’t say it’s different if you have done it before, huh? After five years of divorce, you thought you’d be so used to waking up and getting ready for work without worrying about others. However, this morning proves otherwise.

It felt natural walking into the kids’ room and lightly shaking them awake, telling them to get ready while you whip up something quick for them to eat as Toji showers (using your bathroom, by the way). Watching the kids run down the stairs and eat breakfast puts a smile on your face, reminiscing about the good old days when they were younger and teenier. It sometimes feels surreal doing the same thing for them now that they’re getting older and taller. But seeing them bicker and interact with each other in your presence never fails to warm your heart.

When Toji’s finished freshening up and loading his kids’ stuff in his truck, it’s time to bid them farewell for their departure for school. You give them final touch-ups on their hair and outfits, reminding them to be safe and not get into trouble (especially Megumi, now that the boy’s been getting into fights). And before they rush to the car, you hug them and give each a kiss on the cheek. Here is where the warm feeling inside your heart begins to deteriorate, not wanting to let them go. Yet, for their sake – and education – you release them and hope for the best.

The last to leave was Toji, who came from the kitchen to the front door with a paper plate wrapped in foil in one hand. His name is written boldly by a black Sharpie. “This fr' me?” 

“No, it’s for Shiu Kong, for dealing with you all the time.” You stick your tongue out at Toji as he glares at you, not even moving out of the way while he exits through the door. “You better eat that when you get to work, you have a terrible habit of skipping lunch.” 

“Whatever ya say, mom.” He pesters you with the title, knowing you’re technically not a mother anymore. Yet it only makes you smile knowing he notices your maternal side. 

“Don’t forget to text me when Tsumiki’s soccer game is next week.” You watch him go down the porch stairs. 

“Will do.”He whistles. 

“And Toji?”

The man stops walking to turn to you, his forest green eyes fixed on you so quickly that you almost forget what you want to say. Or what you wanted to do. You place your fingers on your lips and blow a kiss with an outward gesture. It was an old habit you did whenever he left, something you can’t seem to get out of practice with. It’s embroidered in your mind at this point. 

And when he catches the kiss with his free hand and places it on his chest, it makes your heart skip a beat. Toji grins, “I’ll be damned if that was fr' Shiu, too.”

You snicker with a shaken head. “Drive safe, Toji.” Closing the front door, you stand there for a while. Your smile doesn’t falter; it gets bigger as you replay the moment instead. Thinking about him, hearing him, seeing him, it all drives you crazy. And that’s a good thing…right?

“I don’t know, sounds like you still kinda care about the guy.” 

“Of course I do,” So here you are, sitting in your living room enjoying the rays of the sunset decorating the space, in a video call with your best friends, Utahime and Mei Mei. You reply to the former’s comment. “Just because I don’t have the ring on my finger doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care about him. I mean, he’s the father of two lovely children.”

“Shoot, you’re better than me, then.” The dark-haired woman admits. “But you’re kinda proving my point, Y/n. Even when you don’t have the ring on, you two act like the same old couple, and it’s definitely not just for the kids’ sake. Let’s be real here.” 

You try to interject, but the pale-blue-haired other, Mei Mei, intervenes, “I agree. It’s one thing if you let the children stay over, but he also wanted to spend the night. Sure, he could’ve been tired from driving all day and such. However, if you’re still seeing a man for the last five years – while legally unbound – and he says he wants to spend the night under your roof, which is rare, that should ring some bells at least.”

“I know, it did…” you nod along with what your friend is saying, throwing your head back with a heavy sigh. “But it’s not like he’s never spent the night here before, nor is he banished from stepping inside.” 

“Oh? Then why is this time different from the others?”

Utahime jumps in after Mei Mei’s chirp. “Yeah, you’re telling us about all these nostalgic lovey-dovey feelings as if you’re falling in love with him all over again. What, did you two have sex or something?” 

An open mouth, yet no words come out, leaving you in a predicament. You could’ve just lied or swerved the subject to something else. But you didn’t. And the two women on the screen lift their brows with hooded eyes, a look meaning a thousand words. You couldn’t even explain yourself either because a sudden knock on your door captured the attention of all three of you. 

You stand up and walk towards the door, your friends still on call on the phone at hand. Opening the door, you’re almost stunned to see in front of you. Tsumiki and Megumi with nervous smiles, and their father at the car collecting the same duffles bags from last night. You’re kidding.

“Hey, kids.” The two of them gulped from not calling them by their names. You bring up the phone to face the screen to them. “Say hello to Auntie Mei Mei and Utahime.” The women on the line smile and wave at the children, who sheepishly wave back.

“Hi, aunties.” Megumi greets them, and then his eyes drift back to you. “So, Y/n—“

“What did you forget this time?” Straight to the point, no room for excuses.

“It was Miki this time! She forgot her soccer cleats.” The older sibling gawks at her younger brother for calling her out.

“Tsumiki, I know you have cleats at home.”

“I do, but these are special! You bought them for my birthday, and I’ve been wearing them to every game ever since! So, I was scared when I couldn’t find them at home.” The brunette was quick to defend her stand. “Also, Dad doesn’t feel like driving up here and then back. So…can we…”

You close your eyes and bring the phone to your face to shield your vexation. Twice in a row, the sixth time this month. You can hear the giggles of your friends from the other side of the phone, adding more fuel to the fire. You don’t look up until you hear heavy footsteps on the porch, seeing Toji holding both duffle bags with a hand and shoulder. He stares at you as you stare at him, a silent conversation on how to handle this situation. And when he shrugs with lifted brows, you realize it’s no use and release the long-awaited sigh.

“….If I see one more thing being left behind here, you guys can’t come back till December, understand?” It wasn’t anything serious, but enough for the kids to know you weren’t joking. They nod their heads in unison while you roll your eyes. “Okay, get in here.” They rushed inside with gleeful laughs, the shuffling of their backpacks following along with them. Your eyes then drift to Toji as he walks up to you. “Did you forget something here, too?”

“Yeah,” you lift a brow when he drops Megumi’s bag to the floor. Before you can register his hand on your chin, you squeak when he brings his lips to yours. It lasted for seconds, but the kiss was sweet and tender, sucking on your lip before letting go with a playful bite. “Meant to give you that when you woke up. Thanks fr' the food, mama.” 

Toji picks the bag up and walks inside your home to put the bags in the rooms, leaving you standing on the porch with an astounded expression. You couldn’t appropriately calibrate your thoughts until you heard faint laughs from the phone. Then, you realize your best friends witnessed the entire scene that transpired. 

Utahime, with the slyest leer, was the first to say something. “Oh yeah, he laid that pipe on you good, without a doubt.”

“Mhmm,” Mei Mei agrees with a chuckle. “And I'm guessing he’s gonna do it again tonight. Isn’t that right, Y/n?”

You end the video call with a heated face. “Sh-Shut your damn mouths!!” Again, you groan into your hands before returning inside. Thank God I still have those birth control pills...

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by the amazing @/cafekitsune!!