#every time i think the connections stop another one pops up
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I keep thinking about all of the disabled activists and people before me who stranded themselves on the 4th floor of buildings for weeks and crawled up stairs and fought with airline staff and schools and doctors and refused to stop existing in the face of injustice and bigotry no matter how big and scary and hopeless it seemed. Every time I get angry and scared the protests that lead to the creation of the ADA pop up again and remind me that disabled people are so much fucking stronger than anyone has ever given us credit for, and I can't help but be proud of that. And I know not all disabled people feel like we should take pride in our disabilities and have flags or whatever, but I think not just living, but thriving, in spite of a world that wants us dead and gone, in the face of both illness and persecution, and how we've not only bought ourselves forward, but uplifted the disabled people around us, secured more equal futures for everyone who will come after, and truly changed the way so many abled people have seen us for the better is something to be damn fucking proud of.
We have always been here and we always will be, there will never be a world without disabled people because being disabled is not bad, it's a natural part of the human experience and yeah it sucks some times but even when it sucks we have fought to build beautiful, unique, happy lives with people, both like us and not, and that should be celebrated.
The first sign of human civilization is the healed femur. The body of the profoundly disabled person who would have needed help to even just eat being carefully laid to rest after decades of a full, happy life. The medicinal plants showing even before we were entirely human we were doing what we could to not just survive, but alleviate suffering while we're at it. Above everything, evolution selected not the baby who can walk and eat and be quiet, but the one that can ask for help.
Disabled people are not just angry cockroach motherfuckers who refuse to die, we are proof of humanity's HUMANITY. Proof that natural selection selected a species that takes care of each other. From healed femurs and medicinal plants to vaccines and IVs and insulin to now, we are driven to help one another, we are at our strongest when we don't leave our most vulnerable behind. And I am living proof of that. My mother is living proof of that. Every disabled and chronically and/or mentally ill person I know is living proof of that.
And I don't know about the rest of you, but will carry that shred of humanity's true nature inside me like it's my fucking soul. I am scared and angry and hurt, but I have a lifetime's experience being scared and angry, and I can shake off the kind of pain that would make Atlas crumble to dust like it's nothing but a stiff fucking breeze. Disabled people have always been here, turning fear and anger and pain into joy and beauty and connection, and I'm not going to let everyone who came before me down. I'm not going to give up. Not now, not ever.
It's okay if you're disabled and you've hit your limit, you're too scared and tired and hurt, I won't blame you. But I won't abandon you, either. I might not be able to right all of the wrongs in the world, but I'll be strong, I'll carry all of you with me, I will not give up.
As I've said before, society hates a cripple who won't die, so we must spite them and live anyway.
Please, live anyway. I know if anyone can, it's us.
#there that's my thesis about all this hope it helps#abled people can reblog this btw#pls support the disabled people in your lives they need you#us politics#us election#just for the blacklist#current events#cripple punk#cpunk#disabled#disability justice#disabled liberation
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I hate TF One sentinel so much.
I fucking hate him.
I hate him so much I wanna see this mech a whimpering teary mess underneath me after overloading more than he can take.
I want him overstimulated and trembling. venting hard as he is forced to cum again. Tied down and obedient to no one else but me. Him on his knees begging for release.
I hate him so much I wanna see him pathetic and whipped for pussy or spike. Hell make him whipped for both. Go wild.

TF:One Sentinel Prime x Human Reader
okay so i had a couple ideas but this is the one i went with. essentially sentinel using you to make his dick look bigger so he can stroke his ego, but keeps it a secret. to which you find pathetic and of great value (aka to keep living it up rich giant alien robot style)
also go easy on me!! slowly learning how to write for the universe (as alot of people probably are)
Warnings: TF:ONE SPOILERS, Cybertronian/Human, Dom/Sub Elements, Humiliation/Degradation, Bondage, Face Sitting/Cunnilingus, Cream Pies, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation
Word Count: 1707
18+ ONLY MINORS DNI
For a species that's so highly advanced compared to your own, you'd think there would be far more disunities. After all, this planet wasn't made for you. But despite this Olympic-sized hurdle, most of the Cybertronians seemed curious about you. A little human, freshly birthed compared to the universe's timeline itself, bought to Cybertron by their ventures.
It's taken a lot to get used to. But the primal urge associated with human nature seems omnipresent, as you have learned.
Sentinel Prime. The lord and master of Cybertron had his curiosity peaked. He initially took you in as a novelty, a mere collector's item to show off as a display of acceptingness between Cybertronians and Humans—a symbiotic relationship between two species.
At least, that's what he tells them. Yet another lie for him to cover up for the masses.
"You're such a fucking sellout, Sentinel."
A liar he may be, but his trembling form and the whines of your name speak truthfully. And with all the queries of your purpose on this planet, one thing is sure.
Sentinel Prime can't get enough of human nature.
And you're determined to squeeze every last drop of that precious information.
In the lavish and very private penthouse of his tower overlooking Iacon City, Sentinel Prime kneels before you on the berth. Though at eye level, the balance of power remains clear. Ropes of golden silk tie his arms behind his back, connecting to the ones adorning his thighs, keeping them embarrassingly wide open. He can't count how often he's been in this position before, but he learns something new about your little fleshy body each time.
"Yeah, I know." Sentinel wriggles against the ropes despite having no intention of escaping from them, "B-But I have an image to upkeep, you know that."
"Oh, an image! I see," Gripping the kibble on his chin, you pull him closer, to which he flinches, "Because the only image I see is you popping a boner over a little fleshy like me. Now, wouldn't that cause a stir, hm?"
Sentinel grits his dentae, his faceplates heating up at the proximity. He says nothing, knowing that he could dig himself a deeper hole. But he's already too deep, so much so that he could be tried in court for inappropriate relations with organic species. Or worse, he could have the title of 'Prime' stripped away from him.
But he can't deny it. He's so turned on by your soft skin pressing against him that it almost makes him sob, spike standing erect right in front of you. Deliciously throbbing and angry, ripe for your taking.
"On your back, I mean it." You push against his chassis, and he flops backward, grunting as the winds knocked out of him. Your little form climbs atop him, but you don't stop at his spike. You keep climbing until you're standing on his chassis.
"Wh- What are you doing?" Sentinel questions, his voice strained. He watches as you straddle his face and push your cunt against his intake, a pleasant surprise to Sentinel.
"I'm gonna put that lying tongue of yours to good use," You moan, wiggling your hips against his glossa, "Ever tasted human pussy before? Because it's about time you did."
Sentinel grunts as you grind your hips against his face. Though tiny, you're still enough to take his breath away. The sweet, earthly, deliciously human scent fills his olfactory sensors, and he dives in with the first lap at your folds. It's new to him, soft and plush against his glossa. He doesn't even need a second taste to confirm that he's already addicted.
A soft gasp leaves you as Sentinel essentially makes out with your pussy, moving from opened-mouthed kisses to flicks at your clit. You sit down further on him, causing his glossa to push into you forcefully. The ridges massage along your walls and make you see stars, filling you perfectly, making it hard to believe you had no trouble taking his spike. But you won't tell him that. It's far too much fun to humiliate him and make him putty between your thighs instead.
"Is that the best you can do, Sentinel?"
The Prime whines into your flesh as his glossa works double time, "Pfflease..." He takes a breath before he laps at your clit again, rubbing and grinding with the help of your hips.
"What was that? I can't hear you." Your dominant side gets the better of you, and you deviously shift your hips up, hovering just shy above his saturated dermas, "Say it again."
"Please- I can't- I need you to fuck me-" Sentinel whimpers, wincing as his spike painfully throbs. It's all getting too much for poor Sentinel, "I need your valve-" He cranes his neck in a poor attempt to lick at you once again but whines when you pull away from him entirely.
"I can't believe you, Sentinel. You can hardly wait five minutes? How disappointing." You lean closer, "But I won't say no. I hope your spike can perform better than that tongue of yours."
You slide back down his frame, smiling at Sentinel's soft, frustrative growls. You straddle him again, his spike standing tall between your thighs. It only reaches past your navel, and a thought occurs as you gaze upon the pretty biolights.
He must have the smallest one on Cybertron; no wonder his ego's so big.
And no wonder he prefers to fuck a human and keep it a secret.
"You're so hard for me, Sentinel, aren't you?"
"Y-Yes. Only you." Sentinel heaves his chest, still worked up from eating you out. He watches tentatively as you line yourself up, the weeping tip of his spike just pressing against the threshold. He arches his back against the restraints as his spike is engulfed in your heat, biting back a sob of relief.
"Good," You press your hips down agonisingly slow, hands pressed against his abdomen for support, "Keep still, or I won't let you finish."
You sink the rest of the way, planting your ass on his pelvis. The unrelenting fullness causes a shaky breath to whistle past your lips, but you suppress a moan. Sentinel whines, already trembling against the ropes. He tries to roll his hips up into you, but a taut squeeze of your walls halts him in his tracks.
"Do you not listen? I said stay still." You growl through your teeth. Rolling your hips forward, you create a rhythm that has Sentinel crying out. He has no control, not with his servos tied behind him, nothing to grab onto as you start to bounce ruthlessly on his throbbing spike. His helm lulls back in pleasure and hopelessness as he's forced inside you again and again.
"Ah- Ah!! Y-Y/n! I'm gonna-" Sentinel mewls, clenching his optics shut, his chest heaving once again on the cusp of an embarrassingly early overload.
You keep bouncing despite your breathing becoming laboured, fueled by the desire to see Sentinel come undone and beg for your mercy, "Yeah? You gonna cum, Sentinel? Show me how much- guh- how much you love human pussy?"
"Y-Yes! Oh, Primus yes-" Sentinel gasps, arching his back struts as you slam down on his spike, "I love it- ohhn- I love your organic valve so much-"
A raw, sinful cry wracks his frame, shuddering as he pumps his transfluids into you. The warm, suspiciously glowing fluid leaks and spurts out, causing a shiver down your spine.
"My oh my, Sentinel, that was fast." You moan softly, slowly circling your hips, "Not only are you pathetic, but you're pathetic and don't last long in bed."
Sentinel whines wearily at the extra stimulation, "Sorry- nghh- I just can't help it- AHhn!-"
You don't let him finish his sentence. Instead, you lift your hips and slam your hips back down, sending transfluids all over his pelvis. You work yourself up to a back-breaking rhythm, determined to keep your promise to make him beg for mercy. You watch in fascination as Sentinel starts to thrash against the restraints, and how he bares his dentae at you, how that disgustingly handsome face belonging to a mech at your mercy begins to contort in overwhelming pleasure.
"F-Fuck, Sentinel-" Double entendre. You keep going, fingers digging into his hip plating to prevent being thrown off. The wet, sloppy noises of metal meeting flesh spark a deep heat within the pits of your stomach.
He keeps thrashing against you as he cries and howls your name, his hips pressing into the berth to try and escape the overstimulation. He tries to form words, but all that leaves him is an incoherent babble of pleads and whines for you to stop. He overloads again, crying and tugging at the restraints, another gush of warmth spilling into you.
"C'mon, Sentinel-" You moan, your thighs trembling from the workout of holding the mech down. Your cunt aches at the prolonged stretch, but you're determined once again to draw one last overload from him. You reach down and start to circle your clit, hoping to breach your orgasm, "G-Gimme one more, and I'll stop."
"P-Primus below-" Sentinel clenches his optics shut as your pussy strangles his spike, his hips stuttering. The tightness of your walls lurches him forward as he shoots another load into you.
"Fuck yes!" You give him a show of your own and arch your back, finally reaching your orgasm. You cry out and clench down, causing more trans fluid to spill out from you. A soft, exhausted whine leaves you once you're left in the afterglow.
What a mess. Layers of sticky trans fluid coat your thighs and Sentinels' pelvis, the dull throbbing of an overworked spike still seated inside you. It's a horrific sight to walk in on if anyone were to, but maybe they should, if only to expose Sentinel for the filthy fleshy fucker he is.
Looking up, you're met with a shamelessly erotic mess of the Prime. His faceplates painted blue, his glossa lulling out of his intake, the heavy heaving of his chest plates—the face of a liar couldn't be more irresistible.
You chuckle to yourself, whipping out a small data pad and snapping a picture.
"How's that for an image, Sentinel?"
#transformers#transformers x reader#transformers one#tf one#tf one spoilers#tf one sentinel prime#tf one sentinel prime x reader#tf one x reader#tf one sentinel x reader#tf one x human reader#transformers x human reader#valveplug#asks
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rock sound #312 (nov 2024)
transcript below cut:
ROCK SOUND 25 ICON
FALL OUT BOY
A BAND THAT CAPTURED THE HEARTS, MINDS AND HEADPHONES OF A GENERATION OF KIDS WORLDWIDE, FALL OUT BOY UNDOUBTEDLY CHANGED THE LANDSCAPE OF THE ALTERNATIVE SCENE FOREVER, NEVER AFRAID TO EXPERIMENT, TAKE CHANCES AND MAKE BOLD CHOICES AS THEY PUSHED FORWARD. FOLLOWING A SUMMER SPENT EXPLORING THE 'DAYS OF FALL OUT PAST', PATRICK STUMP AND PETE WENTZ REFLECT ON THEIR PATH FROM POP PUNK, HARDCORE MISFITS TO ALL-CONQUERING, STADIUM-FILLING SONGWRITERS AS THEY ACCEPT THEIR ROCK SOUND 25 ICON AWARD.
WORDS JAMES WILSON-TAYLOR
PHOTOS ELLIOTT INGHAM
Let's begin with your most recent performance which was at When We Were Young festival in Las Vegas. It was such a special weekend, how are you reflecting on that moment?
PATRICK: It's wild, because the band, I think, is going on 23 years now, which really came as a surprise to me. I know it's this thing that old people always say, 'Man, it really goes by so fast', but then it happens to you and you're just taken aback. There were so many times throughout the weekend, every 10 minutes, where I'd turn around and see somebody and be like, 'Holy shit, I haven't seen you in 18 years', or something crazy like that. It was hard not to have a good time. When I was going up to perform with Motion City Soundtrack, which was an exciting thing in itself, I turn around and Bayside is there. And I haven't seen Bayside since we toured with them. God, I don't remember when that was, you know? So there was so much of that. You couldn't help but have a good time.
PETE: I mean, that's an insane festival, right? When they announce it, it looks fake every time. The lineup looks like some kid drew it on their folder at school. For our band, the thing that's a little weird, I think, is that by deciding to change between every album, and then we had the three year break which caused another big time jump, I think that it would be hard for us to focus on one album for that show. We're a band where our fans will debate the best record. So it was amazing that we were able to look backwards and try to build this show that would go through all the eras - nod to Taylor obviously on that one. But it's also an insane idea to take a show that should really be put on for one weekend in a theatre and then try to take it around the world at festivals. The whole time on stage for this particular show production, I'm just like 'Is this thing going to go on time?' Because if the whole thing is working totally flawlessly, it just barely works, you know what I mean? So I give a lot of credit to our crew for doing that, because it's not really a rock show. I know we play rock music and it's a rock festival, but the show itself is not really a rock production, and our crew does a very good job of bending that to fit within the medium.
That show allows you to nod to the past but without falling fully into nostalgia. You are still pushing the band into newer places within it.
PATRICK: That's always been a central thing. We're a weird band, because a lot of bands I know went through a period of rejecting their past, and frankly, I encounter this thing a lot, where people have expected that we stopped interacting with older material. But we always maintained a connection with a lot of the older music. We still close with 'Saturday'. So for us, it was never about letting go of the past. It was about bringing that along with you wherever you go. I'm still the same weird little guy that likes too much music to really pin down. It's just that I've carried that with me through all the different things that I've done and that the band has done. So for us, in terms of going forward and playing new stuff, that's always the thing that's important to me; that there should be new stuff to propel it. I never wanted to be an artist that just gave up on new music and went out and played the hits and collected the check and moved on. It's all got to be creative. That's why I do it. I want to make new music. That's always why I do it. So something like When We Were Young is kind of odd really. It's an odd fit for that, because it's nostalgic, which is not really my vibe all that much. But I found a lot of nostalgia in it. I found a lot of value in looking back and going 'Wow, this was really cool. It was amazing that we did this, that we all did this'. That scene of bands, we're all old now, but it has taken off into such a moment culturally that people can point to.
Let's jump all the way back to the first ever Fall Out Boy show. There is very little evidence of it available online but what are your memories of that performance?
PATRICK: So the very first Fall Out Boy show was at DePaul University in a fancy looking dining hall. I actually applied to DePaul, but I never went there because the band went on tour. I think there were only two or three other bands. One was a band called Stillwell, who were kind of a math rock emo band, and then this heavier, more metallic band. And then we were there, and we had a guitar player, John Flamandan, who I have not seen since that show. He was only in the band for a week or two, and we were still figuring ourselves out. We had three songs and I had never sung before in front of people. I did a talent show at school one time when I was a kid and theatre kind of stuff where you would sing, but it was more in that context. And I was also a kid too. This was the first time ever that I'm the singer for a band and I was fucking terrified. We had a drummer named Ben Rose, really great guy. I haven't seen Ben in a million years, either, but we were still figuring ourselves out. The other thing is that all of us, with me being the exception, were in other bands, and all of our other bands were better than Fall Out Boy was. We were very sloppy and didn't know what we were doing, and so I don't think any of us really took it seriously. But there was a thing that was really funny about it, where even though we kind of thought we sucked, and even though we weren't really focusing on it, we had a lot of fun with each other. We enjoyed trying this other thing, because we were hardcore kids, and we were not the pop punk kids and the pop punk bands in town, that was like 'the thing', and we were not really welcome in that. There was a fun in trying to figure out how to make melodic and pop music when we really didn't have any history with that. It was very obvious that we didn't know what we were doing at the beginning.
So when did it begin to feel like things were finally clicking? When did you find your roles and what you wanted the band to be?
PETE: In regards to the music, I liked Fall Out boy, way before I probably should have. I remember playing the early demos and it giving me a feeling that I hadn't felt with any of the other bands that I had been in. Now, looking back on it, I might have been a tad early on that. Then as far as the roles, I think that they've been carving themselves out over time. We've always allowed ourselves to gravitate to our strengths. Between me and Patrick, we'd probably make one great, atypical rock artist if we were one person. Because our strengths are things that the other doesn't love as much. But I think that what has happened more is it's less of a fight now and there's more trust. We have a trust with each other. There's things that Patrick will play for me or explain to me, and I don't even really need him to explain it, because I trust him. I may not totally understand it, but I trust him as an artist. On the other side of that, it's also very nice to have someone who can veto your idea, you know what I mean? It's nice to have those kind of checks and balances.
PATRICK: I had been in this band called Patterson, and all three of the other guys sang in kind of a gravelly, Hot Water Music vibe. I was not intending to be a singer, but I would try and sing backups and, it wasn't a criticism, but there was this vibe that, while I could do the gravelly thing, my voice was coming through and it didn't fit. It was too pretty and that became a thing I was kind of embarrassed of. So when Fall Out Boy started, I was actively trying to disguise that and mute it and hide behind affectation. Pete would really push me to stretch my vowels because that was in vogue in pop punk at the time. There were all these different ways that we were trying to suppress me, musically, because we were just trying to figure out how to do the things that the bands we liked did. But that wasn't really us, you know? It's really funny, because 'Take This To Your Grave' was recorded in three sections, about six months apart. Over the course of that time, I can hear us figuring it out. I think a really defining moment for me was 'Saturday', because I am not brave, I am not a bold person, and I do not put myself out there. When I was showing the band 'Saturday', we were jamming on the bit after the second chorus, and I was mumbling around, just mucking my way through it, and I did the falsetto thing. I didn't think anyone could hear me over us bashing around in Joe's parents house in this tiny little room. But Pete stopped, and he goes, 'Do that again'. I was so terrified of doing that in front of these guys, because you gotta remember, I was incredibly shy, but also a drummer. I'd never sung in front of anyone before, and now I'm singing in a band and I'm certainly not going to take chances. So I thought the falsetto thing was really not going to happen, but when I did it, there was this really funny thing. Somehow that song clicked, and it opened up this door for us where we do something different than everybody else. We were aiming to be a pop punk or hardcore band, but we found this thing that felt more natural to me.
As you embarked on Warped Tour, simultaneously you were finding this huge level of pop and mainstream success. How was it navigating and finding your way through those two very different spaces?
PATRICK: I used to work at a used record store and what shows up is all the records after their success. So I got really acquainted and really comfortable with and prepared for the idea of musical failure. I just wanted to do it because I enjoyed doing it. But in terms of planning one's life, I was certain that I would, at most, get to put out a record and then have to go to school when it didn't work out. My parents were very cautious. I said to them after 'Take This To Your Grave' came out that I'm gonna see where this goes, because I didn't expect to be on a label and get to tour. I'm gonna give it a semester, and then it will almost certainly fail, and then after it fails, I'll go to school. And then it didn't fail. Warped Tour was very crazy too, I was talking about this at When We Were Young with My Chem. Both of us were these little shit bands that no one cared about when we booked the tour. Then we got to the tour, and all these people were showing up for us, way more than we expected, way more than Warped Tour expected. So Warped Tour was putting both of us on these little side stages, and the stages would collapse because people were so excited. It was this moment that came out of nowhere all of a sudden. Then we go to Island Records, and I had another conversation with my parents, because every band that I had known up to that point, even the biggest bands in town, they would have their big indie record and then they would go to the major label and drop off the face of the planet forever. So I was certain that was going to happen. I told them again, I'm going to put out this record, and then I'll go to school when this fails.
PETE: I think that if you really wanted someone to feel like an alien, you would put them on TRL while they were on Warped Tour. You know what I mean? Because it is just bananas. On our bus, the air conditioning didn't work, so we were basically blowing out heat in the summer, but we were just so happy to be on a bus and so happy to be playing shows. You go from that to, two days later, stepping off the bus to brush your teeth and there's a line of people wanting to watch you brush your teeth. In some ways, it was super cool that it was happening with My Chemical Romance too because it didn't feel as random, right? It feels more meant to be. It feels like something is happening. To be on Warped Tour at that time - and if you weren't there, it would be probably hard to imagine, because it's like if Cirque Du Soleil had none of the acrobatics and ran on Monster energy drink. It was a traveling circus, but for it to reach critical mass while we were there, in some ways, was great, because you're not just sitting at home. In between touring, I would come home and I'd be sitting in my bedroom at my parents house. I would think about mortality and the edge of the whole thing and all these existential thoughts you feel when you're by yourself. But on Warped Tour, you go to the signing, you play laser tag, you go to the radio station. So in some ways, it's like you're in this little boot camp, and you don't really even think about anything too much. I guess it was a little bit of a blur.
Pete, when you introduced 'Bang The Doldrums' at When We Were Young, you encouraged the crowd to 'keep making weird shit'. That could almost be a mantra for the band as a whole. Your weirder moments are the ones that made you. Even a song like 'Dance Dance' has a rhythm section you never would have expected to hear on a rock track at that time.
PETE: You know, I just watched 'Joker 2' and I loved it. I do understand why people wouldn't because it subverts the whole thing. It subverts everything about the first one. That's something I've always really loved, when I watch artists who could keep making the same thing, and instead they make something that's challenging to them or challenging to their audience. Sometimes you miss, sometimes you do a big thing and you miss, and we've definitely done that. But I gotta say, all the things that I've really loved about art and music, and that has enriched my life, is when people take chances. You don't get the invention of anything new without that. To not make weird stuff would feel odd, and I personally would much rather lose and miss doing our own thing. To play it safe and cut yourself off around the edges and sand it down and then miss also, those are the worst misses, because you didn't even go big as yourself. This is where we connect with each other, we connect by our flaws and the little weird neuroses that we have. I rarely look at something and go 'Wow, that safe little idea really moved me'. I guess it happens, but I think about this with something like 'Joker 2' where this director was given the keys and you can just do anything. I think a lot of times somebody would just make an expected follow up but some people turn right when they're supposed to turn left. That's always been interesting on an artistic level, but at the same time, I think you're more likely to miss big when you do that.
PATRICK: Going into 'From Under The Cork Tree', I had this sense that this is my only shot. It has already outperformed what I expected. I don't want to be locked into doing the same thing forever, because I know me. I know I'm not Mr. Pop Punk, that's just one of many things I like. So I would be so bummed if for the rest of my life, I had to impersonate myself from when I was 17 and have to live in that forever. So I consciously wanted to put a lot of weird stuff on that record because I thought it was probably my only moment. 'Sugar, We're Goin Down' was a fairly straight ahead pop punk song but even that was weird for us, because it was slow. I remember being really scared about how slow it was, because it's almost mosh tempo for the whole song, which was not anything we had done up to that point. But in every direction, in every song, I was actively trying to push the boundaries as much as I could. 'Dance, Dance' was one of those ones where I was seeing what I can get away with, because I might never get this chance again. We were on tour with a friend's band, and I remember playing the record for them. I remember specifically playing 'Our Lawyer…' that opens the record, which has that 6/8 time feel, and they kind of look at me, like 'What?'. Then I played 'Dance, Dance', and they're like, 'Hey man, you know, whatever works for you. It's been nice knowing you'. But I just knew that, on the off chance that I ended up still being a musician in my 40s, I wanted to still love the music that we made. I didn't want to ever resent it. It's ironic because people say that bands sell out when they don't make the same thing over and over again. But wait a second. Say that again. Think about that.
That attitude seemed to carry directly into 'Infinity On High'. If you may never end up doing this again then let's make sure we bring in the orchestra while we still can...
PATRICK: That was literally something that I did say to myself this might be the last time, the likelihood is we're going to fail because that's what happens, so this might be the last time that I ever get a chance to have somebody pay for an orchestra and a choir. I always think of The Who when they did 'A Quick One, While He's Away' and there's a part where they go 'cello, cello', because they couldn't afford real cellos, they couldn't afford players. That's what I thought would happen for me in life. So I went in and thought, let's do it all. Let's throw everything at the wall, because there's no chance that it's going to happen again. So many things came together on that record, but I didn't expect it. 'Arms Race' was a very weird song, and I was shocked when management went along with it and had kind of decided that would be the single. I was in disbelief. It did not feel like a single but it worked for us. It was a pretty big song and then 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs' was easily the big hit off that record. So then we have two hit songs off of an album that I didn't even know would come out at that point. But again, it was very much just about taking the risks and seeing what the hell happened.
As you went on hiatus for a few years, you worked on a number of other creative projects. How did those end up influencing your approach to the band when you returned?
PETE: On the areas of the band where I led, I wanted to be a better leader. When you're younger and you're fighting for your ideas, I don't think that I was the greatest listener. I just wanted to be a better cog in the machine. When you're in a band originally, no one gives you the little band handbook and says 'these are the things you should do', you know? I just wanted to be a better version of who I was in the band.
PATRICK: There's a combination of things. 'Soul Punk' is a weird record. I love that record but I kind of resent that record for so many things. It's my solo record, but it's also not very me in a lot of ways. I had started with a very odd little art rock record, and then I had some personal tragedies happen. My EP that I put out far out sold expectations so then all of a sudden, Island Records goes, 'Oh, we think this could actually be something we want singles for'. I think we had all expected that I would be putting out a smaller indie record but then all of a sudden they were like 'oh, you could be a pop star'. So then I have to retrofit this art rock record into pop star hit music, and also channel personal tragedy through it. I hadn't ever really been a front man - I'd been a singer, but I hadn't really been a front man, and I hadn't really written lyrics, certainly not introspective, personal lyrics. So that whole record is so strange and muted to me. So I went from that album, which also failed so fucking hard - I should have gone to school after that one. But Pete had reached out to me just as a friend, and said 'I know you're in your own thing right now, and I know that you're not the kind of person that is going to be in my fantasy football league, so I'm not going to see you unless we make music. But you're my buddy, and that kind of bums me out that I don't see you at all, so I guess we have to make music'. I thought that was a fairly convincing pitch. It's true, that was what we do when we hang out - we make music. So we reconvene, and going into it, I had all these lessons that really made me understand Pete better, because Pete is the natural front end person. So many of our arguments and frustrations and the things that we didn't see eye to eye on, I grew to understand having now been in the position of the point man that had to make all the decisions for my solo thing. It really flipped my understanding of why he said the things he would say, or why he did things he would do. I remember early on thinking he was so pushy, but then, in retrospect, you realise he was doing it for a reason. There's so many little things that really changed for me doing 'Soul Punk' that were not musical but were more about how you run a band and how you run a business, that made me understand and respect him a lot more.
What are memories of that initial return and, specifically, that tiny first show back at the Metro venue in Chicago?
PETE: Those first shows were definitely magical because I really wasn't sure that we would be on a stage again together. I don't have as many memories of some of our other first things. We were just talking about Warped Tour, I don't have many memories of those because it is almost wasted on you when it's a blur and there's so many things happening. But with this, I really wanted to not take it for granted and wanted to take in all the moments and have snapshots in our own heads of that show. I did a lot of other art during the time when we were off, everybody did, but there's a magic between the four of us and it was nice to know that it was real. When we got on that stage again at the Metro for the first time, there was something that's just a little different. I can't really put my finger on it, but it makes that art that we were making separately different than all the other stuff.
Musically, as you moved forward, everything sounded much bigger, almost ready for arenas and stadiums. Was that a conscious decision on your part?
PETE: Patrick felt like he was bursting with these ideas. It felt like these had been lying in wait, and they were big, and they were out there, and whether he'd saved them for those records, I don't really know. That's what it felt like to me. With 'Save Rock And Roll', we knew we had basically one shot. There were really three options; you'll have this other period in your career, no one will care or this will be the torch that burns the whole thing down. So we wanted to have it be at least on our terms. Then I think with 'American Beauty...' it was slightly different, because we made that record as fast as we could. We were in a pop sphere. Is there a way for a band to be competitive with DJs and rappers in terms of response time? Are we able to be on the scene and have it happen as quickly? I think it kind of made us insane a little bit. With 'American Beauty…', we really realised that we were not going to walk that same path in pop culture and that we would need to 'Trojan horse' our way into the conversation in some way. So we thought these songs could be played in stadiums, that these songs could be end titles. What are other avenues? Because radio didn't want this right now, so what are other avenues to make it to that conversation? Maybe this is just in my head but I thought 'Uma Thurman' could be a sister song to 'Dance, Dance' or maybe even 'Arms Race' where it is weird but it has pop elements to it.
PATRICK: I had a feeling on 'Save Rock And Roll' that it was kind of disjointed. It was a lot of good songs, but they were all over the place. So when we went into 'American Beauty…', I really wanted to make something cohesive. I do think that record is very coherent and very succinct - you either like it or you don't, and that's pretty much it all the way through. By the time we got to 'MANIA', I had done all this production and I'd started to get into scoring. The band had done so many things and taken so many weird chances that I just felt free to do whatever. At that point, no one's going to disown me if I try something really strange so let's see what happens. 'Young And Menace' was a big part of that experiment. People hate that song, and that's okay. It was meant to be challenging, it's obviously not supposed to be a pop song. It's an abrasive song, it should not have been a single. However, I do think that record should have been more like that. Towards the end of the production, there was this scramble of like, 'Oh, fuck, we have no pop music on this and we need to have singles' and things like that. That took over that record and became the last minute push. I think the last half of that record was recorded in the span of two weeks towards the end of the recording to try and pad it with more pop related songs. I look at that record and think it should have all been 'Young And Menace'. That should have been our 'Kid A' or something. It should have really challenged people.
But we have spoken before about how 'Folie à Deux' found its audience much later. It does feel like something similar is already beginning to happen with 'MANIA'...
PETE: I agree with you, and I think that's a great question, because I always thought like that. There's things that you're not there for, but you wish you were there. I always thought about it when we put out 'MANIA', because I don't know if it's for everyone, but this is your moment where you could change the course of history, you know, this could be your next 'Folie à Deux', which is bizarre because they're completely different records. But it also seems, and I think I have this with films and bands and stuff as well, that while one thing ascends, you see people grab onto the thing that other people wouldn't know, right? It's like me talking about 'Joker 2' - why not talk about the first one? That's the one that everybody likes. Maybe it's contrarian, I don't really know. I just purely like it. I'm sure that's what people say about 'Folie à Deux' and 'MANIA' as well. But there's something in the ascent where people begin to diverge, you are able to separate them and go 'Well, maybe this one's just for me and people like me. I like these other ones that other people talk about, but this one speaks to me'. I think over time, as they separate, the more people are able to say that. And then I can say this, because Patrick does music, I think that sometimes he's early on ideas, and time catches up with it a little bit as well. The ideas, and the guest on the record, they all make a little bit more sense as time goes on.
'MANIA' is almost the first of your albums designed for the streaming era. Everything is so different so people could almost pick and choose their own playlist.
PETE: Of course, you can curate it yourself. That's a great point. I think that the other point that you just made me think of is this was the first time where we realised, well, there's not really gatekeepers. The song will raise its hand, just like exactly what you're saying. So we should have probably just had 'The Last Of The Real Ones' be an early single, because that song was the one that people reacted to. But I think that there was still the old way of thinking in terms of picking the song that we think has the best chance, or whatever. But since then, we've just allowed the songs to dictate what path they take. I think that that's brilliant. If I'd had a chance to do that, curate my own record and pick the Metallica songs or whatever,that would be fantastic. So it was truly a learning experience in the way you release art to me.
PATRICK: After 'MANIA', I realised Fall Out Boy can't be the place for me to try everything. It's just not. We've been around for too long. We've been doing things for too long. It can't be my place to throw everything at the wall. There's too much that I've learned from scoring and from production now to put it all into it. So the scoring thing really became even more necessary. I needed it, emotionally. I needed a place to do everything, to have tubas and learn how to write jazz and how to write for the first trumpet. So then going into 'So Much (For) Stardust', it had the effect of making me more excited about rock music again, because I didn't feel the weight of all of this musical experimentation so I could just enjoy writing a rock song. It's funny, because I think it really grew into that towards the end of writing the record. I'd bet you, if we waited another month, it would probably be all more rock, because I had a rediscovered interest in it.
It's interesting you talk about the enjoyment of rock music again because that joy comes through on 'So Much (For) Stardust' in a major way, particularly on something like the title track. When the four of you all hit those closing harmonies together, especially live, that's a moment where everything feels fully cohesive and together and you can really enjoy yourselves. There's still experimental moments on the album but you guys are in a very confident and comfortable space right now and it definitely shows in the music.
PATRICK: Yeah, I think that's a great point. When you talk about experimentation too and comfort, that's really the thing isn't it? This is always a thing that bugged me, because I never liked to jam when I was a kid. I really wanted to learn the part, memorise it and play it. Miles Davis was a side man for 20 years before he started doing his thing. You need to learn the shit out of your music theory and your instrument - you need to learn all the rules before you break them. I always had that mindset. But at this point, we as a band have worked with each other so much that now we can fuck around musically in ways that we didn't used to be able to and it's really exciting. There's just so much I notice now. There are ways that we all play that are really hard to describe. I think if you were to pull any one of the four of us out of it, I would really miss it. I would really miss that. It is this kind of alchemy of the way everyone works together. It's confidence, it's also comfort. It's like there's a home to it that I feel works so well. It's how I'm able to sing the way I sing, or it's how Andy's able to play the way he plays. There's something to it. We unlock stuff for each other.
Before we close, we must mention the other big live moment you had this year. You had played at Download Festival before but taking the headline slot, especially given the history of Donington, must have felt extra special.
PETE: It felt insane. We always have a little bit of nerves about Download, wondering are we heavy enough? To the credit of the fans and the other bands playing, we have always felt so welcomed when we're there. There's very few times where you can look back on a time when... so, if I was a professional baseball player, and I'm throwing a ball against the wall in my parents garage as a kid, I could draw a direct link from the feeling of wanting to do that. I remember watching Metallica videos at Donington and thinking 'I want to be in Metallica at Donington'. That's not exactly how it turned out, but in some ways there is that direct link. On just a personal level, my family came over and got to see the festival. They were wearing the boots and we were in the mud. All this stuff that I would describe to them sounds insane when you tell your family in America - 'It's raining, but people love it'. For them to get to experience that was super special for me as well. We played the biggest production we've ever had and to get to do that there, the whole thing really made my summer.
PATRICK: There's not really words for it. It feels so improbable and so unlikely. Something hit me this last year, this last tour, where I would get out on stage and I'd be like, 'Wait, fucking seriously? People still want to see us and want to hear us?' It feels so strange and surreal. I go home and I'm just some schlubby Dad and I have to take out the compost and I have to remember to run the dishwasher. I live this not very exciting life, and then I get out there at Download and it's all these people. Because I'm naturally kind of shy, for years, I would look down when I played because I was so stressed about what was happening. Confidence and all these have given me a different posture so when I go out there, I can really see it, and it really hits you. Download, like you said, we've done before, but there's something very different about where I am now as a person. So I can really be there. And when you walk out on that stage, it is astounding. It forces you to play better and work harder, because these people waited for us. The show is the audience and your interaction with it. In the same way that the band has this alchemy to it, we can't play a show like that without that audience.
#sir the ''schlubby dad'' in question is getting on stage and GROWLING. people are dying and creaming and dying and cr#time capsule#read the charts#fall out boy#patrick stump#pete wentz#joe trohman#andy hurley
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──────── 🕶️ PAPARAZZI



。 i'm your biggest fan, i'll follow you until you love me. i won't stop until that boy is mine
... 西村 力 x fem!reader 🖇️ fan to idol , angst if you squint, slow burn 1238 wc ( • ᴖ • 。) idol pressure, hints of unrequited love (in beginning), obsessive tendencies
【 more like this 🎬 】
it was never supposed to be this way.
you never imagined the glittering world of k-pop would consume you this much. it all started when you were a teenager, watching idols on tv, dreaming of standing on that stage yourself. but dreams are never as pretty when you’re trying to chase them.
you were sixteen when you entered the trainee system at hybe, surrounded by hundreds of others with the same goal. at first, it felt like a whirlwind. you had no real idea what you were doing. the rigorous training, the constant pressure, the competition—it was overwhelming. but every night, you returned to that same dream. one day, you’ll be an idol.
it wasn’t until you met him that you started believing it.
nishimura riki. the effortlessly charismatic maknae of enhypen.
at first, you only saw him from afar. he was a senior by a few months, already known for his talent, his looks, his undeniable stage presence. every time he walked by, it was like the air around him shifted. you’d be training in the same building, and for some reason, every time he passed by, it felt like time would slow down. maybe it was his aura. maybe it was the way his smile made everything around him light up. but you, a mere trainee, couldn’t help but watch. you didn’t dare speak to him. you were too far out of his league, or so you thought.
he was perfect. and you were just trying to get through one more training session.
the day you finally debuted as part of aeris arrived, and the reality of it hit you all at once. this was your dream come true. but what they didn’t tell you was how hard it would be to keep it.
aeris wasn’t just a group. aeris was an experience. bold, futuristic, and intense. your concept was about power, control, and breaking free from expectations. the styling, the music, the choreography—it was a perfect reflection of the unrelenting pressure you felt as an idol. the whole world was watching, and for once, you were ready for it.
people called you enhypen’s sister group. at first, it didn’t mean much. but over time, the comparisons grew louder. the media would always bring up him—riki. how much your group resembled enhypen in both style and talent. it felt like there was always this connection between your two groups, one that you could never quite escape.
and then, there was that interview.
you were sitting on the bright stage, the lights of the camera flashing in your eyes, as the reporter sat in front of you, his pen poised. another interview, you thought. just another day in the life of an idol.
“so, y/n,” the reporter began, his voice cheerful and warm, “aeris has made a huge impact in such a short time. tell us, what made you decide to become an idol?”
you smiled, trying to calm your nerves. you’d answered this question a thousand times, but for some reason, today felt different.
“honestly,” you started, your voice a little more vulnerable than usual, “it was seeing the way idols like nishimura riki pushed themselves. he made me believe that even though I was just a trainee, I could become something bigger. he inspired me to chase my dreams, even when everything seemed impossible.”
you could feel the room go still for a moment. the reporters exchanged glances, and a few whispered under their breath.
“nishimura riki? enhypen’s riki?” the reporter asked, clearly surprised.
you nodded, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “yeah. he was always someone I looked up to, even before I joined hybe. I didn’t think I’d ever get close to someone like him, but the way he performed, the way he carried himself—it made me want to be better. to push myself beyond my limits. he’s the reason I’m here.”
the reporters seemed to hang on to your every word. “and now, your group is being called enhypen’s sister group. how does that feel?”
you tried not to think too much about it. it wasn’t like you wanted to be compared to enhypen—you were your own person, with your own identity. but still, you couldn’t deny the strange mix of pride and pressure that came with it.
“it’s an honor,” you said with a smile, your voice steady. “but I think we’re more than just a sister group. aeris has its own identity. we want to make our mark, too.”
you smiled politely, but in the back of your mind, all you could think about was riki. the one person who unknowingly pushed you this far, who made you feel like anything was possible. you were here, in front of the cameras, trying to show the world who you were—but was he even aware of you?
the night was buzzing with excitement. the atmosphere was electric as your group prepped for the next performance, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. something about tonight felt different, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.
as you walked down the hallway, you heard familiar voices and laughter coming from around the corner. you turned, your heart racing. and there he was.
nishimura riki.
he was talking with some of the enhypen members, but when his gaze met yours, everything around you seemed to fade away. for a split second, it felt like time had slowed. he smiled at you, a knowing, almost teasing look in his eyes.
you froze. did he hear the interview?
riki’s gaze softened as he excused himself from the group and walked over to you. his footsteps felt like they were echoing, but you couldn’t look away.
“y/n,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “I saw your interview.”
you blinked, a small knot forming in your throat. “you did?”
he nodded. “yeah. I didn’t know I was such an inspiration to you.”
there was something in the way he said it—playful, but also sincere. you had no idea what to say. you weren’t prepared for this.
“thank you,” you whispered, your heart racing. “really. you were the reason I kept going. even when things were hard, I thought about you and how you pushed yourself. it made me believe I could do it too.”
there was a quiet pause before riki took another step closer, his eyes now focused entirely on you. “you did,” he said softly, the smile fading slightly, replaced by something more intense. “you really did.”
the tension was thick between you two. and then, before you could say anything else, riki reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m proud of you, y/n. you’ve come a long way.”
your breath caught in your throat. did he really just say that? did he mean it?
“thanks,” you managed to whisper, your hands trembling.
he smiled, the edge of it more knowing than before. “you’ve been chasing something. but now, maybe you don’t have to anymore.”
he gave you one last look before walking away, leaving you standing there, heart pounding. your thoughts raced. what did that mean?
but even as the night went on and your group performed with all the fire and intensity you’d promised the world, one thought stayed with you.
maybe you were no longer chasing that boy. maybe, just maybe, he was chasing you.
enhypen taglist : @ash-engen @chrrific @cheruphic @jungwonbropls @ijustreallylike2read
© callikari — all rights reserved
#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen angst#enhypen fic#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x reader#enhypen niki#enhypen nishimura riki#enhypen riki#enha angst#enha fluff#enha x reader#enha smau#enha fanfic#enha riki#enha nishimura riki#enha niki#niki smau#nishimura riki smau#niki fluff#nishimura niki#nishimura riki#niki x reader#riki fluff#riki smau#riki x reader#niki nishimura#从 ^ ^ callikari 到你#enha#kpop x reader
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based off of this
BEREAL
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the bereal notification goes off when you and your boyfriend are in an intimate situation.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PURE FILTH, swearing, unprotected sex, p in v, choking, spanking, hair pulling, dumbification, breeding, ROUGH
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 631
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: DID NOT MEAN TO RELEASE THIS LATE BUT I HAD TO WAIT UNTIL MIDNIGHT SINCE I REACHED THE POST LIMIT AGAIN😭
but anyway matt/chris will be back tomorrow!
nate’s phone blows up with notifications on the nightstand from the DA BOYZ group chat with nick, matt, and chris — but he’s too busy to check it now.
moaning loudly, your hands clutch at the pillow your head is lying on. your knuckles are white, eyes rolling back so far in your head. it’s been forty-five minutes, and you came twice already.
you guys are making a fucking mess, but neither of you cares at this moment. his and your cum combined slap against your thighs, a string of arousal connecting and breaking each time he thrusts into you. you mumble something into the pillows, but it’s so incoherent that it sounds like a moan.
his hand is wrapped tightly around your neck, the other one running up and down the small of your back. he’s so deep inside your cunt that you seriously don’t know how he does it.
drool drips down your chin and onto the sheets below, body becoming rag doll-like when your grip starts to loosen and you start to rock violently to the speed of the way he’s plowing hard into you with no mercy. “there she is; getting fucked stupid on my cock because that’s all you have to fucking live for.”
only groaning in response, you start to see specks of white every time you blink. your pussy is so tight around his dick that it makes it hard for him to move. nate’s so balls deep that it feels like he’s in your throat.
silenced screams go past your lips as the headboard bangs rapidly against his bedroom wall, his tip brushing against your g-spot for the nth time tonight. he moans, grabbing your ass and jiggling it before slapping it. “might have to put my kid in ya.” he hisses, giving it another hit. “i need to breed this pussy full. you let me use it so well.”
catching a glimpse at his lit phone screen, he sees a specific notification pop up:
⚠️time to bereal⚠️
2 min left to capture a bereal to see what your friends are up to!
he smirks, grabbing his phone and opening the app. he points the camera to his face as the time counts down. eyes hooded and lips swollen, a handful of hickeys decorate his neck in red and purple, along with a few scratch marks on his chest.
pressing the white button at the bottom of the screen, he grips the top of your hair to yank your head off the pillow. he quickly turns his phone around, the back camera getting your face into view.
nate waits patiently a few seconds for the picture to render, letting go of your head so he can upload it. this is the first time he’s seen what you look like all night.
strands of hair are disheveled or stuck to your forehead from sweating, eyes crossed with your tongue sticking out like a dog. that poor brain of yours thinking only about nate’s cock fucking the shit out of you.
“i’m cu-mming.” you hiccup, shaking violently as you’re overstimulated from three hard orgasms. the boy behind you licks his lips, stopping deep before spurts of his hot cum fill your womb.
seconds later, reactions come flooding in on his post. some are from peers from high school, while the rest are from the crew.
madi’s eyes are wide, her hand covering her mouth.
nick looks disgusted, his face half out of the frame.
matt’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline, mouth hanging open in complete shock.
last but not least, chris smiles widely at the camera with a big thumbs up.
matthew.sturniolo: oh brother
nicolassturniolo: NATHAN DOE.
user: she’s living the dream, i’m afraid…
madifilipowicz: 😟
user: HE HAS BITCHES???
christophersturniolo: get that pussy bro😝
𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @stellarsturns @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2
#nate doe#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nathan doe#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo imagine#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo smut#nate doe smut#nate doe fanfic#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo smut
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The Boyfriend Brigade
Pairings: Various Love&Deepspace Men x reader
Summary: After being away on a solo mission for quite some time, you return to Linkon City feeling unwell. After failing to respond to text messages, you end up getting unexpected visitors and find yourself in a predicament.
Note: I had this fanfic in the drafts for months and couldn't finish it because of how busy I was ;v; but I finally got to finish it! The next update is another LADS update, but this time, it's a smut fic! I'm not sure if it will be separated by character or if all the men are involved in one smut fic. I'll probably have a spinning wheel choose for me. In case anyone is interested in joining, my Discord server is currently open. If you're interested in joining a small community of people who play LADS alongside Hoyoverse games, I'll provide the server link at the end of this fic. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).
Warnings: Mother Nature comes to visit you unannounced, if that counts as one
Word Count: 8.2k
You lean against the tree behind you, trying not to collapse to the ground while in the middle of the woods of a foreign country. You’re exhausted, and things have not been slowing down for you. The metaflux levels are through the roof, and wanderers lurk in every corner, forcing you to stay on high alert (as if you weren’t on high alert already). During the first few weeks of your solo mission, you infiltrated Ever’s secret base two hundred meters from where you’re currently gathering intel on protocores and aether cores.
Once you have gathered enough information and sent it to the Hunters Association, you continue with your solo mission: handling the wanderers and entering an area with a high protofield. Is it a smart idea to enter a protofield all alone? No, no, it’s not a bright idea, especially now that you’re dealing with endless hordes of wanderers in the woods, sniffing you out like a bloodhound.
You’re not injured— or at least not horribly injured— but you are feeling under the weather. You barely have the chance to get some rest and sleep. You’re always on your feet, constantly looking over your shoulders to make sure that there aren’t any wanderers ready to strike while you’re trying to take a breather. After what felt like forever, it could be longer than you expected, but you digress— the protofield is stabilized, and you can finally rest after who knows how long. But before you can relax, you decide to return to Linkon City and report to Captain Jenna about your completed mission. On your flight back to Linkon City, you’re knocked out and sleep until one of the flight attendants (bless her heart) wakes you up from your slumber.
You didn’t inform anyone of your return to Linkon, so you didn’t expect anyone to pick you up from the airport. Usually, it would be Zayne who picks you up from the airport, and sometimes it’s Sylus. So, here you are, sitting at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive.
Your eyelids feel heavy, and you can barely remain conscious. You lean against the bus stop, trying your best not to nod off. You pull your phone out from your pocket and turn it on. Once your phone finally has connection, a slew of notifications pop up on your screen. From text messages to phone calls to video calls, it just keeps popping up now that your phone has a decent connection after who knows how long.
RAFAYEL:
“Miss Bodyguard, when are you going to be back from your dangerous solo mission? Personally, I don’t think you should be doing this mission alone, but that’s just me.”
“I don’t want to have an art exhibit without you present. You’re my number one supporter and my bodyguard! I can’t go anywhere without you by my side!”
“Thomas is talking my ears off about it, and I’m trying everything I can to ignore him, but he’s giving me this look.”
“Miss Bodyguardddddddd. When are you coming home? :(”
“Are you back yet?”
SYULS:
“Kitten, I will be expecting you to return to Linkon City unscathed. Do not do anything reckless, alright? Always be two steps ahead of your enemies and know their weaknesses.”
“Kick their asses, and don’t let them kick yours. Show them what I have taught you in the boxing ring.”
“I will see you soon, alright? I want you to return to me safe and sound. If anyone lays their hands on you, tell me who they are, and I’ll take care of everything.”
“Luke and Kieran keep pestering me about your return to the N109 Zone.”
“I found something interesting in Mephisto’s nest today. I believe these are your earrings and bracelets. [PHOTO ATTACHMENT] Mephisto loves shiny things, and he so happens to take a liking to your jewelry.”
ZAYNE:
“How is your mission coming along?”
“Are you resting? Make sure not to overexert yourself, and make sure to eat plenty of food.”
“It’s been a few days since I’ve heard from you. You are safe, right?”
“If you need any assistance, I am one phone call away.”
“Text me back when you get this message.”
XAVIER:
“Make sure not to storm into the protofield recklessly.”
“Let me know when your mission is completed. I want to be the first person you see when you return from your mission.”
“I made sure to water the plants on your balcony and organize the plushies in your room. They are waiting for your return, and I am waiting for your reply.”
“I hope you do not have to resort to this, but if you are in any danger and cannot complete your solo mission, don’t hesitate to call me for help. I will be there in a heartbeat.”
“It’s been a while since I sent my previous message, and I still haven’t heard back from you. Are you alright? Do you need me to step in to help you?”
Before you can unlock your phone to answer any of the text messages you have received, the screen suddenly goes black. You close your eyes and slump in your seat at the bus stop, realizing that you did not charge your phone at all before boarding the plane. Now that your phone is dead, you have no way to contact any of the four men to inform them of your return to Linkon City.
“This is fine,” You mutter, too exhausted to do anything. “I’ll message them once I charge my phone.”
When the bus finally arrives, you sit close to the back of the bus with your belongings and close your eyes. It’ll be a fifteen-minute drive to the nearest bus stop near your apartment, so you might as well sit back and get some shut-eye before arriving home. When the bus arrives at the bus stop a block from your apartment, you nearly miss your stop due to your nap. You stumble off the bus and trudge toward the direction of your apartment, still groggy from your nap on the bus.
A small gust of air causes you to tense up and shiver. You hug yourself with one arm while dragging your luggage with the other, now realizing how cold you are. Despite feeling like a walking popsicle, your body is also covered in a thin layer of sweat. Dear goodness, you must look like a mess to whoever lays their eyes on you.
Everything is a blur after, and you find yourself collapsing on your couch after closing and locking your apartment door. Your luggage is abandoned next to the shoe rack, while one boot is beside the luggage, and the other lies beside your couch. You’re too tired to change out of your clothes and go to your bedroom. Your entire body is aching, and every limb feels like lead. You shift on the couch, digging your hands into your pockets to take your dead phone out of your pockets before tossing it onto the coffee table.
Once you get that out of the way, you curl up into a fetal position and hug your knees to your chest. Your body wracks with shivers when a wave of chills washes over your body as you slowly drift off to a dreamless sleep.
- Two Days Later -
Rafayel steps out of the elevator and turns to the right, walking towards a specific apartment. Before choosing to stop by his precious bodyguard’s apartment, Rafayel realizes that all of his messages are left on read. Now, Rafayel may not be much of a texter (only when it comes to other people who aren’t you), but seeing his messages being left on read with little to no response drives him up the wall. However, since you’re the cutest and most precious person in the world, Rafayel lets you off the hook.
“She’s probably busy with the Hunters Association debriefing.” Is what Rafayel would say to himself, trying to bury the clenching feeling in his chest. But as time goes by, Rafayel will find himself opening the message between you and him, staring at the “READ” receipt at the bottom of his message— still no response from you, not even a phone call, voice message, video call, nothing.
Rafayel doesn’t want to be seen as clingy, but he can’t help but crave for your attention, your voice, your laughter, your touch, you, you, you. Rafayel checks the tracking device he left on you (he did it for your safety) and sees that you’re at your apartment and not in some foreign country the last time he checked! Rafayel pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, letting out a long exhale through his nose.
“I guess she wants me to be the one to stop by this time,” Rafayel mutters before standing up. “Thomas, I’m heading out. It seems like Miss Bodyguard wants me to stop by her place.”
Thomas looks up from his phone, watching the Lemurian man grab his coat and car keys. Before Thomas can say anything, Rafayel is already out the front door, closing the door behind him. Thomas sighs, shaking his head.
As Rafayel approaches closer to your apartment, Rafayel slowly stops in his tracks. Rafayel’s mood worsens after seeing familiar faces in front of your apartment door. Just when Rafayel thinks he’s going to be your first and only visitor after you return from your mission, three other men have the same plan in mind. Rafayel stops before the three men, sensing tension among the trio.
Zayne chuckles dryly. “I see we all have the same intention,” Zayne mutters, his gaze flickering from Xavier and Sylus to Rafayel. “You three don’t need to be here. As her primary care physician, it is my duty to check up on her to make sure she’s okay.”
Xavier smiles at Zayne and crosses his arms over his chest. “Dr. Zayne, while I understand that you’re [Y/N]’s primary care physician, I’m her coworker and neighbor. I believe that I have every right to check up on her after not hearing back from her in a while.”
Zayne and Xavier continue to stare at each other; both men have fake smiles on their faces. Sylus chuckles, shaking his head while tapping on his temples as he watches the tension rise between your so-called coworker and primary care physician.
Rafayel narrows his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, puffing his chest out as he nods in Sylus’s direction. “And what about you?”
Sylus looks at Rafayel with amusement, pointing at himself. Rafayel nods, pressing his lips into a thin line as he waits for Sylus to respond. “Oh, [Y/N] and I are—” Sylus is cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. The three men (Sylus, Xavier, and Zayne) take a step back, going silent as they try to hear other things coming from behind the door. Finally! Finally, you’re going to show your cute face to them all, reassuring them you’re okay and that you’re trying to recharge after a draining mission.
In a perfect world, that’s how everything will go down. In each man’s fantasy, they imagine you telling the other men to go home so you and he can spend time together after not seeing each other for a while. However, no one lives in a perfect world, no matter how much they hope. The doorknob wiggles, and a faint click and beep comes from the door. What everyone expects to see is you in a sleepy haze, answering the door in your cozy pajamas with an extreme bedhead, rubbing your eyes, and yawning. What they all did not expect to see is—
“Hello there! Is there anything I can help you all with?” A boy-next-door voice asks.
— A man in his mid-twenties answering your door… the very same door that belongs to your apartment. The man has black hair and French lilac with a hint of rose gold accents in his eyes, and he’s tall, perhaps the same height as Sylus. Maybe a little shorter than the Onychinus leader. Zayne tenses up the minute he and the mysterious black-haired man lock eyes.
Shit. They didn’t get the wrong apartment, did they? Rafayel quickly glances at the apartment number above the door to make sure he (and the others) didn’t get the wrong apartment, but it’s the correct apartment, and Rafayel can see your signature furniture behind the man’s shoulders.
A look of surprise flashes over the man’s face before being replaced by a wide smile, and he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe of your apartment. “Zayne! It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other!” The man says.
Rafayel’s eyes dart between the two black-haired men, looking at them incredulously. “You two know each other!?” Rafayel blurts, grabbing Zayne and the mysterious black-haired man’s attention.
“Of course! We've known each other since we were children,” the black-haired man replies. “Isn’t that right, Zayne?” He smiles, tilting his head to the side as he waits for Zayne’s response.
Zayne nods. “That is correct. Caleb and I have known each other since we were children.”
Silence falls over the five men, no one saying a single thing. Rafayel puffs his cheeks out and sighs, crossing his arms over his chest while leaning on one leg before switching to the other. This Caleb guy is close friends with your primary care physician, but what is Caleb’s relationship with you? Surely you’re not dating this man, are you? Could he be your brother, by chance?
Xavier is the first person to break the silence. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you in [Y/N]’s apartment?”
A look of surprise flashes over Caleb’s face. Caleb smiles and stands straight, propping both hands on his hips. “I’m here to take care of [Y/N]. I messaged her not long ago to let her know that I’m in Linkon, but she never replied. So, I took that as an opportunity to stop by her apartment to check up on her,” Caleb replies.
Sylus raises his eyebrows at Caleb’s reply, eyeing the man from head to toe— almost as if he’s sizing Caleb up. “How did you enter [Y/N]’s apartment? You didn’t happen to, oh, I don’t know, break into her apartment while she’s asleep, did you?” Sylus asks, narrowing his eyes at the black-haired man.
Caleb raises his hand before digging one hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a key. “Me? Breaking into [Y/N]’s apartment? I would never,” Caleb rolls his eyes. “And for your information, she gave me a spare key a while back.”
Sylus briefly glances at the key in Caleb’s hand before continuing what he’s doing prior: sizing Caleb up (or at least that’s what it looks like to others around Sylus). The more Caleb stares at Sylus, the more he notices that Sylus’s eyes have a faint glow. Caleb breaks eye contact with the white-haired man before laughing bitterly.
“I assume you all want to check up on [Y/N]. I’m afraid I cannot let you all into her apartment as of now due to her current condition,” Caleb states, now crossing his arms over his chest.
That catches the four men’s attention immediately. Not only does it bother them that they’re not allowed to see you after not seeing you in a while, but the vagueness of Caleb’s response irks them to no end.
Xavier takes a step forward, his eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean by her current condition? She’s not hurt, is she?” Xavier frowns, his heart pounding in his chest.
Caleb sighs, unsure of whether he should explain the situation to the three unfamiliar men and Zayne. Residents of the apartment weave through the four men in the hallway to get to their apartment and the elevator, grumbling about people taking up space and being inconsiderate. Caleb presses his lips into a thin line before gesturing for the four men to enter the apartment so they wouldn’t block the hallway for the residents.
After everyone is in the apartment, Caleb closes and locks the apartment door. Zayne, Sylus, Xavier, and Rafayel each take their shoes off and put on the spare slippers on the shoe rack. Caleb observes each man closely, mildly miffed over the fact that they know about the (now) unspoken rule when entering your apartment: shoes are to be taken off and put on house slippers. Everyone slowly migrates to the living room, some sitting on your couch while others refuse to sit.
Caleb takes a deep breath. “[Y/N]’s sick,” Caleb says. Caleb looks at each person’s face to see their reaction.
The frown on Zayne’s face deepens as he crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows furrowing with worry. “How long has she been sick?” Zayne demands, his eyes occasionally lingering in the direction of your bedroom.
“I don’t know how long she’s been like this, but whenever I stopped by not long ago, she was unconscious on the couch. I carried her to her room and made sure she changed into loose and comfortable clothes. Thankfully, she took her medication when I handed her cold medicine. However, it seems her sickness has gotten worse overnight.”
Rafayel’s eyes widen with disbelief and horror. “Worse?! What do you mean by worse? Miss Bodyguar— [Y/N]’s not going to die, is she!?”
Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head after hearing Rafayel’s ridiculous question. Xavier and Sylus look at Rafayel with a questioning gaze while Caleb chuckles with amusement, shaking his head.
Xavier crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the couch. “If she’s sick, then why didn’t she let any of us know about her condition?”
Sylus looks at the coffee table and sees your phone lying face down. “She’s either too drained to reply to our messages to inform us of her whereabouts or…” Sylus trails off, reaching for your phone. Sylus presses the button on the side of your phone, expecting your phone to light up. But alas, your phone doesn’t turn on, even if he presses down the button for ten seconds. “She forgot to charge her phone, and her phone is dead.”
Zayne turns toward Caleb and says, “As her primary care physician, it’s my job to check up on her.”
Caleb holds his hands up in a surrender gesture. “I know that, Zayne. I’m not stopping you from checking up on [Y/N]. She’s still sleeping in her room. I tried getting her to eat something, but she refused. She only took cold medicine before going back to sleep,” Caleb says, frowning.
Caleb gestures for Zayne to follow him before turning around and walking towards your closed bedroom door. Caleb grabs the door handle and quietly opens the door. Zayne and Caleb peek their heads into your bedroom to see you out cold on your bed, buried under mountains of blankets. Caleb opens the door wider before entering your room, with Zayne following close behind. The other three men stand by the doorway, eyes glued on your unconscious body.
“If [Y/N] wanted something to warm her up as she sleeps, she could’ve just asked me,” Rafayel mutters, leaning against the doorframe.
Zayne kneels at the edge of your bed, eyes scanning your face. He presses the back of his hand against your forehead. You sigh with relief when you feel something cool press up against your hot forehead. You subconsciously lean into Zayne’s cool touch, wanting more of his touch to cool you down.
“You said she hasn’t eaten anything, correct?” Zayne mutters, looking at Caleb.
Caleb nods wordlessly, his eyes never leaving your face. “She has not, unfortunately. Again, I tried to convince her to eat the congee I’ve cooked, but she just wanted to sleep,” Caleb replies, now standing beside Zayne.
The chatter around you slowly brings you back to consciousness. You crack your eyes open and look around your bedroom with bleary eyes. You mumble incoherent words, grabbing the attention of the five men around you. Upon seeing you awake, the men remaining at the doorway of your bedroom rush over to where you lie. Your body heat and the mountains of blankets over your body cause you to squirm as you struggle to sit up and push the blankets off your body.
Xavier and Zayne help you sit on your bed while Rafayel fluffs the pillow behind you, cushioning your back against the bed frame. Sylus hands you a cup of water to drink after seeing you rub your throat while wincing. You weakly smile at Sylus before taking huge gulps of water.
Xavier chuckles, sitting beside you, and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Careful, now. You wouldn’t want to choke, now, would you?” Xavier murmurs, wiping the droplet of water from the corner of your lips after you downed the cup of water.
You shakily place the cup on your nightstand, leaning your head against the wall, and stare at your lap. No one says anything as they stare at you, waiting for you to say or do something. You rub your eyes with your knuckles, still groggy from your sleep. It feels nice to finally be home after a long mission, but you’re sick, and you feel like you got hit by a bullet train.
“Are you hungry, pipsqueak?” Caleb asks, rubbing your head affectionately before fixing your bedhead.
You shake your head. “No, I’m okay.” You lie.
Before anyone can say anything, the silence is broken by a loud rumbling in your stomach. You clear your throat and hug your pillow to your chest, ignoring the gnawing feeling in your gut. You’re starving, but you don’t want to eat.
Sylus frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he scrutinizes you. “Sweetie, just because you’re sick and tired doesn’t mean you should starve yourself,” Sylus lectures you, shaking his head with disapproval. “If you don’t eat anything, how else will you recover from your illness, hm?”
You stare at the Onychinus leader with a visible pout on your face. The way you stare at Sylus makes him feel weak at the knees. You resemble a stray kitten found in a downpour— pathetic but cute.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to eat congee. Is it possible she wants to eat something else?” Rafayel mutters, stroking his chin. “Hey, cutie. What do you want to eat? Definitely not boring old congee, right?” Rafayel jokes.
Caleb raises an eyebrow at Rafayel’s comment, turning to you. You press your lips into a thin line and think for a minute. You don’t mind eating congee since it's easy to stomach, but you’re not entirely sure if you want to eat the same thing over and over until you’re no longer sick. The congee Caleb makes is delicious, but you want something new and easy to eat, similar to congee, but without eating congee itself.
“How about I make you some chicken soup? It has plenty of nutrients your body needs in order to recover from an illness.” Xavier says, grabbing hold of your hand and gently squeezing them.
Hearing Xavier offer to cook you something to eat nearly has you in tears. It’s not like you don’t want Xavier to cook you food—actually, it is that. You love Xavier and his willingness to cook something for you to eat, but cooking isn’t his best suit. Xavier looks at you worriedly after not hearing a response from you. The puppy dog eyes Xavier has on his face is killing you.
Zayne clears his throat, sighing to himself. “Chicken soup is a good option if you don’t want to eat congee. Caleb can cook the chicken soup while I get your medication. Xavier, Rafayel, and Sylus can keep you entertained.”
You nearly cry in relief when Zayne says it’s going to be Caleb who’s going to cook the chicken soup for you to eat (sorry, Xavier). You nod, immediately agreeing to Zayne’s suggestion. After Zayne and Caleb leave your room, you lie back down and hug your pillow. You notice Sylus slip out of your bedroom for a moment, but instead of heading to your living room, he goes straight to your bathroom.
Rafayel pouts, staring at you like an angry toddler. “You don’t want to cuddle me, cutie? After not seeing each other for such a long time, you don’t want to cuddle to make up for the lost time?” Rafayel grumbles, his bottom lip jutting out as he plops down at the edge of your bed.
Xavier glares at Rafayel before looking elsewhere. “It’s not a good idea to cuddle with someone while they’re sick. [Y/N] still has a fever, and cuddling her will only add to the discomfort,” Xavier lectures Rafayel.
Rafayel rolls his eyes before lying down on you, his head resting on your lap as he grabs your hand, completely disregarding Xavier’s lecture and glare. Rafayel laces his fingers with yours and presses a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Nothing is going to stop me from cuddling with you, cutie. Unless you demand personal space, then it’s too bad because I’m here to stay,” Rafayel states, smirking over in Xavier’s direction.
Xavier’s nostrils flare, and his hands clenched into tight fists. “You—”
“Now, now, gentlemen. I believe now is not the right time to be bickering with one another. You two will only make [Y/N]’s headache worse the more you argue with one another. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Sylus clicks his tongue with disapproval as he exits your bathroom with a wet cloth in his hand.
Sylus sits at the edge of your bed near your head, brushing your damp hair away from your face and forehead. You stare at Sylus, watching him fold the small hand towel in half before placing the cool, wet towel over your forehead.
You sigh with contentment. “That feels really nice,” you murmur, closing your eyes. “Thank you, Sylus.”
“Anything for you, kitten. Now, get some rest. I’ll wake you up when it’s time for you to eat,” Sylus murmurs, leaning down to kiss your cheek.
Rafayel and Xavier stare at Sylus with their mouths agape and eyebrows furrowing. Sylus chuckles and shakes his head at their reactions before getting up from your bed. “Make sure to behave, you two. You wouldn’t want another lecture from Dr. Zayne and Caleb, now, would you?”
Rafayel and Xavier glance at each other from the corner of their eyes before watching the leader of Onychinus peer from your bedroom door to see what Zayne and Caleb are doing. You pull the blanket up to your chin and slowly fall into a dreamless sleep.
- 40 Minutes Later -
“How in the world did she fall asleep already?”
“Yeah, she can be a pretty heavy sleeper when she’s sick.” You hear Caleb laugh.
Sylus sighs. “Sweetie, you need to wake up and eat. You can’t skip your meals while you’re sick.”
The voices around you continue to chatter, making it nearly impossible to fall asleep, but not impossible enough to stop you from doing so. You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep, but when you open your eyes, you find yourself sitting on the couch with the blanket draped over your thighs.
You smack your lips together, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles, almost struggling to lift your arms. You furrow your eyebrows, annoyed you can’t get your limbs to function. Your head is resting on the couch cushion, nearly lulling you to sleep again.
“Oh, no, you don’t! Don’t fall asleep on us now, cutie.” Rafayel protests, rushing over to your side and gently patting and poking your cheeks to keep you conscious.
You softly whine, struggling to grab hold of Rafayel’s hand. You open your eyes, only to see how close Rafayel’s face is to yours. You stare at him, confused. Rafayel sighs in relief and slowly backs away, now sitting beside you. Your head droops forward as you try to fight off the need to sleep. How in the world did you get on this couch?
Xavier kneels beside you, grabbing your hand. “You don’t remember what happened before you were carried to the living room?” Xavier asks, staring into your bleary eyes.
You shake your head. “Not really.”
Caleb places a food tray on your lap and then sets down a bowl of chicken soup and cutlery in front of you. The bowl has shredded chicken with chicken broth, chopped carrots, and celery. The aroma of the soup is so delicious that it causes your stomach to let out a growl that’s loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
Zayne sits to the right of you. “Do you want to take your medication now, or do you want to take it after you finish your lunch?” Zayne asks, holding up the bottle of cold medicine.
You stare at the bottle, hesitant about taking the medication again. You should really get new cold medicine because the one Zayne is holding makes you feel nauseous every time you take it. Could it be because you took the medication on an empty stomach? You point at the chicken soup before scooping the broth and shredded chicken with the spoon, and begin eating the soup that Caleb cooked for you to eat.
When you pick up a piece of carrot with your chopsticks, Zayne visibly narrows his eyes at the orange vegetable and watches you bite the soft vegetable. Caleb chuckles, shaking his head at Zayne’s reaction to seeing a carrot.
“You still don’t like carrots, Zayne?” Caleb teases, crossing his arms over his chest.
Zayne clears his throat, almost rolling his eyes. “What about you? Do you still hate cilantro?” Zayne mutters, looking at Caleb from the corner of his eye.
Rafayel, Xavier, and Sylus glance at each other while internally questioning the strange interaction between Zayne and Caleb. Caleb and Zayne said they were “childhood friends,” but the way they’re acting with each other says the complete opposite. The others around Caleb and Zayne can almost visibly see electricity spark between the two men, the more they shoot not-so-subtle glares at each other. If this continues, the two could burn down your (and Xavier’s) apartment building.
You set your chopsticks down on the bowl when you feel a sharp pain in your lower abdomen. You try to ignore the pain and grab the spoon, taking small sips of the chicken broth, hoping the warm soup will ease the pain in your abdomen. Your stomach isn’t hurting; in fact, it hasn’t been hurting since you returned to Linkon City. You start listing the possibilities of what can make your abdomen hurt while sipping your soup.
You haven’t eaten much since your return to Linkon City, so the possibility of eating something “bad” is out of the question. But that’s stomach pain, not lower abdominal pain. Wait— When was the last time you had your period?
Xavier squeezes your hand, pulling you out of your thoughts. “What’s wrong?” He whispers, leaning over and staring at you intently. “Do you not like the soup? Would you prefer for me to cook you something instead?”
You blink at Xavier, slowly shaking your head. “The soup is fine, but…” You trail off, feeling the familiar pain return. “I don’t think I’ll be able to finish this soup.”
The men around you peek into the bowl to see how much soup you have left, and you barely make a dent in the soup. You’ve probably eaten three slices of carrots and four shredded chicken and sipped the broth around two or three times, but either way, you’re not even close to finishing the chicken soup that Caleb made for you.
“Can you try to finish at least half of the soup? You don’t have to finish the entire thing, but half would suffice,” Sylus suggests, gazing at you worriedly.
You stare at the soup, sighing. It’s not like you’re full, it’s just that the cramps you’re suddenly feeling are making it hard for you to want to finish your food. The longer you stare at your food, the more you can feel holes being burned into the back of your head from how hard the five men around you are staring at you.
You grab the food tray and place it on the ground before getting up from the couch. Just when you thought the cramps you were feeling a moment ago were bad, they just got worse the minute you stood up. You clear your throat, acting like you’re not being stabbed in the abdomen over and over by a box cutter. You point to the bathroom, letting them know you’ll be right back before sprinting away. During your journey to the bathroom, you feel the familiar sense of dread fall over you when, you’re assuming, blood starts gushing out of your lady bits.
You accidentally slam the bathroom door shut behind you as you rush to the toilet, pull your pajama pants and underwear down. You grit your teeth and silently groan at the sight. That’s going to leave an ugly stain.
“Maybe you’re the reason why I’m sick,” you grumble, poking at where your uterus is located. “Dropping by for a week-long visit with no notice ahead of time is absolutely foul.”
You remain on the toilet, letting the blood drip out of you as you wipe the blood from your panties. Well, at least you didn’t bleed through and stain your pajama pants. You reach into the sink cabinet, searching for your pads and tampons, only to find nothing. Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach, causing you to lurch forward on the toilet, peeking your head into the cabinet to double-check if you may have misplaced it somewhere.
You shake your head, in denial. “Fuck. Please tell me I didn’t forget to restock my pads and tampons,” you whisper.
“Everything alright in there, pipsqueak?” Caleb knocks on the door.
You close the sink cabinet with silent defeat, flush the toilet after wiping (a lot of wiping), fold toilet paper, and place it in your underwear as a temporary pad. You pull up your pants and underwear, waddling to the door. You crack the door open, peeking out to see Caleb and the others standing outside the bathroom door.
You press your lips into a thin line and proceed to push past them, walking straight to your closet to pull out clean clothes to change into after your shower. It’s probably not the best idea to shower while you’re sick, but right now, it’s very much needed. You stop in your tracks, sighing. You still need to restock pads and tampons.
“What’s wrong, sweetie? You look distraught,” Sylus says, approaching you.
God, he’s so tall.
“Huh?” You blink at the Onychinus leader owlishly.
Sylus smirks, letting out an amused laugh, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You really are out of it, aren’t you?” He teases, now standing in front of you, and presses his hands against your forehead. “You shouldn’t be showering when you have a fever, kitten.”
You frown at Sylus, feeling all sorts of emotions hitting you like a brick wall. You’re angry that your period started, you’re also sad because you completely forgot to restock your tampons and pads, you’re humiliated that you stained your panties with your blood and now have to use toilet paper as a temporary pad, but you’re so tired and in so much pain.
You want to cry, but you also want to scream and obliterate the entire planet. Of all people, why you and why now? Sylus tilts his head to get a better look at your face; his gaze softens when he sees the look on your face. Before Sylus can say anything, you drop your clothes and bury your face into his chest, sighing.
Rafayel takes a cautious step forward. “What’s wrong, cutie? It’s okay if you’re too tired to finish your soup. We won’t force you to eat,” Rafayel says softly.
You press your cheek against Sylus’s chest, peeking at Rafayel and the others with a pout. God, this is making you feel even worse. You shake your head, closing your eyes. You shudder, feeling like a stepped ketchup packet.
Xavier rubs your back, eyebrows knitted together with worry. “Please tell us what’s wrong. You seem to be doing far worse before you went to the bathroom,” Xavier pleads, pulling you away from Sylus.
“You guys know that I’m sick, right?” You mutter, sitting on the edge of your bed.
The men around you nod, slowly migrating over to your bed.
You sigh, rubbing your eyes with your knuckle. “Well, turns out, I’m also menstruating! Yippee! Hooray! Someone please kill me and end my suffering.” You plop over on your bed and rub your temples. “Oh, and to top it all off, I completely forgot to restock my tampons and pads! Things just keep getting better and better!”
You grab your pillow, tempted to take yourself out of your misery. Instead, you hold yourself back and hug it against your chest, zoning out. Caleb makes a noise, grabbing your attention. You look over at Caleb to see him staring at his phone, stroking his chin.
“That makes sense on why I’ve been getting notifications about your menstruation cycle nearing,” Caleb says nonchalantly.
You stare at Caleb owlishly. “You keep track of my period?” You ask with millions of questions running through your mind rapidly.
“I do too,” Rafayel says, waving his phone. “In fact, I just got notified that your period should be starting sometime this week, but it looks like it starts today! I should mark it.”
You sit up, ignoring the feeling of your blood staining your temporary “pad.” Wait, since when did they keep track of your period?
Noticing the clueless look on your face, Zayne pats your head with a small smile. “In case you forgot, which, judging by the look on your face, you did, you wanted me to keep track of your cycle. By the looks of it, it seems like I’m not the only one who’s tracking your cycle,” Zayne says, looking over at the others.
You stare at the five men blankly, with your mouth agape, when the others show you their phone screens. You look at the ceiling, trying to recall the time when you asked them to keep track of your period. Well, at least you won’t have to worry about forgetting your impending cycle when you have five people who will notify you about it before it happens. Today, however, is different. No warning signs at all— well, maybe you getting sick is the warning of your impending menstrual cycle, and having no pads and tampons stocked in your bathroom is the worst situation to be in.
Xavier strokes your hair. “If you want, you can go take a shower while we go to the store to buy you some pads and tampons,” Xavier murmurs, gazing at you with those adorable puppy dog eyes of his.
“If we do that, someone’s going to need to stay back and keep watch of [Y/N],” Caleb interjects, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know [Y/N] long enough to know what products she uses.”
You groan and flop over on your stomach. You can’t believe Caleb wants someone to babysit you while they go out to buy you menstrual products. You’re an adult, you can be left alone in your apartment while they’re out shopping at the nearest store. It’s not like you will bleed out and die if they leave you all by yourself. Plus, this isn’t your first rodeo as a menstruating woman, a hunter to be exact.
After convincing all five of your lovely guests to let you be alone in your apartment while they go out to restock your menstrual products, you find yourself sitting in the shower, staring at the tiles. You watch the blood and shampoo trickle into the drain, wincing when another wave of cramps hits you. You lean against the shower wall, questioning everything. You have no idea how long you’ve been in the shower, but you truly hope that Caleb, Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, and Sylus return before you’re done taking a shower.
Meanwhile…
Zayne walks to the cash register with three boxes of pads in one hand and a box of dessert from the store’s bakery in the other. Zayne stops in his tracks when he sees the other four, raising an eyebrow at them as they approach the cardiac surgeon.
“Five boxes of tampons! [Y/N] won’t have to worry about running out of menstrual products for the next few months!” Rafayel says, looking smug.
Xavier scratches his head, holding up four boxes of both pads and tampons, each one different from the other. “I bought one of each for [Y/N]. If I remember correctly, she said her period flows tend to be different and unpredictable each month and day.”
The others nod and murmur with approval, earning a shy yet satisfied smile from Xavier. Everyone turns to look at Caleb, your childhood friend and Zayne’s childhood and maybe current love rival.
Caleb laughs, shaking his head. “Wow, all of you went all out. I, on the other hand, got her the period essentials,” he says, holding up a shopping basket that contains pads, tampons, a couple of your favorite snacks, a heatable teddy bear, and a soft throw blanket.
Zayne hums, mentally critiquing Caleb’s cart. Despite there being differences between Zayne and Caleb, Zayne approves of Caleb’s cart. Everyone turns to look at Sylus, who came empty-handed. Everyone’s silently judging the leader of Onychinus. Sylus chuckles, tapping on his temples before crossing his arms over his chest.
“While you all were shopping around, I put in a bulk order of pads, tampons, and wipes that will be delivered to [Y/N]’s apartment. It should be there by the time we return to her apartment,” Sylus says, glancing at the watch around his wrist.
Rafayel looks at Sylus with wide eyes, a mix of horror and awe. “Bulk order?! Are you implying [Y/N] is going to get warehouse-level type of shipments to her apartment?” Rafayel asks.
“Yes, because I don’t want her to worry about having to run back to the store to restock her menstrual products,” Sylus says nonchalantly, propping his hands on his hips.
Caleb scrutinizes Sylus, propping one hand on his hip. “Where did you get the money to do all of this, Sylus?”
Sylus smiles, waving off the skeptical looks thrown his way. “I’m just a fruit vendor with a very successful business, that is all.”
- 15 Minutes Later -
You shut off the water and grab your towel, wrapping it around your body. You stand in the shower, debating whether you should step out and get dressed or wait for the others to return with pads and tampons. A knock on the bathroom door interrupts your thoughts, making you nearly cry out in relief. Oh, thank goodness you won’t have to make a temporary pad out of toilet paper!
You leave the shower and walk to the door, unlocking it. You crack the door open and take a peek. Zayne, Caleb, Rafayel, and Xavier are holding bags of pads and tampons. No Sylus in sight.
Noticing your questioning gaze, Zayne gestures to the door leading to the living room. “Sylus is stocking your storage room. You’ll understand when you’re done with your shower,” Zayne says.
You sigh in relief. You thanked the four men before grabbing a random bag from one of their hands, closing the door, and getting dressed. After changing and securing your underwear, you unlock and open the bathroom door. Caleb helps you with restocking the pads and tampons in your bathroom while Xavier and Rafayel help Zayne with throwing the boxes away.
“Where is Sylus?” You mutter, closing the sink cabinet door.
Caleb shrugs. “Probably still stocking up the storage room,” Caleb replies.
Caleb wraps his arm around your shoulders before leaving the bathroom with you. When you and Caleb step into the living room, you stop in your tracks when you see Xavier, Zayne, and Rafayel helping Sylus stock your apartment storage room. You look at Caleb, who shrugs in response to your questioning gaze.
You leave Caleb’s side, approaching the four men while trying to peek from their shoulders to see what they’re doing. Xavier and Rafayel move out of the way for you to look; your eyes nearly pop out of your skull after seeing your storage room, once empty, now completely full of boxes of pads, tampons, and wet wipes.
You look at Sylus, who reminds you of a smug cat showing his owner his successful hunt. “This was your doing, wasn’t it?” You ask.
“Well, of course it is, sweetie. I don’t want you to worry about restocking your menstrual products for the next few months. If you happen to use up the entire stock, then you can always let me know, and I will have them restocked in no time,” Sylus says.
Next few months?! You look back at the storage room, filled to the brim with boxes of pads, tampons, and wipes. Maybe it’s your period that’s making you emotional, or the fact that these men care about you so much that they would go out of their way to buy as many boxes of pads and tampons for you, you find it very touching. You can’t help but tear up at the sweet gesture, causing mass panic among the five men.
“Cutie, why are you crying?! You’re not in pain, are you!?” Rafayel asks, grabbing you by the shoulders and staring at you with pure panic.
You laugh and cover your face, bending over to avoid their worried stares. Rafayel looks at the others, unsure of what to do aside from pulling you into his arms and cradling you, patting your back. You wipe the tears running down your cheeks and let yourself loosen up in Rafayel’s arms, sighing.
“What do you want to do now, pipsqueak? Do you want to finish your food now or later?” Caleb trails off, stroking your hair.
You continue clinging to Rafayel, peeking over at the untouched (and most likely cold) soup. “Can we watch a movie first? I’m not really in the mood to eat right now. Maybe I’ll be hungry after we finish a movie,” you mutter, peeking at Caleb and the others.
Each man agreed to your proposal and began setting the living room up for the impromptu movie night. When everyone starts to settle down for the movie, they all leave space for you to sit next to them—lots of space. You prop your hands on your hips, unsure of where to sit, while these men subtly glare at each other.
“Can you guys scoot a little closer?” You ask, gesturing for everyone to move in.
Caleb, Sylus, Zayne, Xavier, and Rafayel reluctantly scoot closer to each other. When they stop to look at you, you shake your head with disapproval and continue to gesture for them to move closer. Once they’re finally sitting side by side, thighs touching, you nod with approval. You grab the throw blanket that Caleb bought for you and drape the blanket over their laps, ignoring the confused stares thrown your way. You grab a plushie that works as a pillow and place it on Sylus’s lap. You walk to the light switch, turn the living room lights off before returning to where the others are waiting for you, still confused about what you’re plotting. On your way back, you grab the spare plush blanket that hangs from the armrest of the sofa. This is probably the most you’ve moved around since returning from your solo mission.
You briefly sit on Zayne’s lap before lying down on everyone’s lap. If these men want to fight over who gets to sit beside you while watching the movie, you might as well make them your bed. You lay your head on the plushie pillow on Sylus’s lap, draping your blanket over your body.
Rafayel frowns. “Hey, how come I’m the only one with the short end of the stick?” Rafayel mutters, lightly tickling your feet, making you jolt.
You peek at Rafayel with a playful glare. “Don’t worry, Rafayel. I’ll be switching positions when we start watching another movie after this one,” you reply, getting comfortable.
About twenty minutes into the movie, you slowly start to doze off. There are many times when you try to force yourself to stay awake during the first few minutes of the movie. But the more the movie drags on, you can’t help but slowly fall asleep. You’re so comfortable: fresh out of the shower, wearing cozy pajamas, lying on top of Sylus, Caleb, Zayne, Xavier, and Rafayel’s lap with a blanket over you.
You don’t mind spending your vacation and sick days like this as long as you’re surrounded by the people who cherish you and care about you. Right when you succumb to your slumber, you feel someone press a kiss on your head, and more kisses soon follow after the first.
Note: I can't believe that this is my second fanfic for Love&Deepspace and the next fic is going to be smut 😭 One of my ideas for the smut was going to be based on the Tomorrow Catch-22 memories, but then that (the fic) ended up being the complete opposite of the event and the memories. So, I'm probably going to scrap that idea and come up with a new one for the upcoming smut-fic for my LADS series. If you're interested in joining my Discord server, the invite to my Discord server can be found [HERE]! The Discord server invite links will be different every time I post a new fanfic, and these links have expiration dates. It's a relatively chill server, which I like because the server nearly crashed when it was first created. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!
Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^
#Love&Deepspace fanfiction#Love&Deepspace fanfic#Sylus x reader#Zayne x reader#Rafayel x reader#Xavier x reader#Caleb x reader#genshinluvr#Love and Deepspace fanfiction#Love and Deepspace fanfic
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Soulmates (Rorona Zoro x Fem!reader)
A/N: Hi :) -Val
Words: 2, 197
“I don't believe in that bullshit,” Zoro grunts and takes a sip of his sake bottle.
Nami and Usopp nod in agreement.
“Wait, I don’t get it,” Luffy says with a frown. “How does it work?”
“The story says that we all have one person who completes us in every way,” they all look at Robin. “It’s like you’ve found the perfect piece of meat, Luffy,” she smiles at him knowing his language.
Luffy’s eyes grow in awe understanding the meaning of soulmates.
The kitchen stays silent as the rain outside drops hard.
“But, do you eat that person?” Luffy asks again, making Chopper and Usopp laugh.
“No, Captain,” Robin giggles. “This person helps, protects, loves, and takes care of you. The connection is mutual. They say you feel attracted to that person even if you don’t know who they are. It’s beyond being a nakama, friend, lover, or protector.”
“And how can you find them?” Chopper asks.
“Everyone has a birthmark and your soulmate has the same as you,” Robin continues. “The legend says that destiny would reunite you two at some point in life.”
Chopper and Luffy gasp.
“Yeah, that sounds lovely and magical, too bad it’s just a legend and it isn’t real!” Nami exclaims.
“What?” Chopper, Luffy, and now Sanji squeak in shock.
“Nami-swan!? You don’t believe in soulmates?” The blond looks at her half-offended half-disillusioned.
Nami shrugs. “I’ve seen so many people get disappointed when they can't find their ‘soulmate’.”
“Hang on! I don’t think I have the mark,” says Luffy looking at every part of his rubber body.
“Oh! It’s on the back of your left ankle,” Chopper points. “I thought it was just a spot, but...” he hums “It looks like a banana, actually,” he giggles.
“What!? Really?” Luffy raises his leg and stretches it to find his birthmark. He laughs excitedly.
“What about you, Usopp?” Chopper looks at him. “Do you believe in soulmates?”
“Uuuh!” Luffy exclaims. “Is that girl from your home island your soulmate?”
“Usopp’s face flushed in embarrassment as he crossed his arms. “Who? Kaya? I-I don’tI mean–” he stutters.
“She doesn’t have to be his soulmate to be with him,” Zoro adds, rolling his eyes.
“She’s not my–” Usopp squeaks. “I mean, we aren’t–It was just a kiss, it doesn’t–” he keeps trying to explain nervously.
“See? Usopp found his soulmate!” Robin points with a smile.
“What!? You’re not listening. I’m telling you that she’s not!”
“I personally and fiercely believe in soulmates,” Sanji interrupts while he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt on his left arm. He shows them his mark in the form of a knife. “I know they exist somewhere and,” he smirks, “they’re giving me another reason to keep living and keep looking for them,” he says proudly.
Zoro scoffs and chuckles shaking his head. “Still bullshit, no matter how hard you try to decorate it, cook.”
Sanji frowns and looks at him. “These are facts, no matter how you make it sound, Moosehead. Even you have one. I don’t know how it could be possible, though...” he murmurs the last thing.
Zoro groans. “Nothing’s fucking written or is out there. Nobody tells me what to do or who I have to be with. You can be with whomever you want, whenever you want, it’s stupid to waste time searching for a silly birthmark that could be just a fucking spot or scar on your skin,” Everyone looks at the swordsman when his tone increases and his body tenses as he talks. His lousy posture on the chair changes to a straightened one, and the veins around his muscles pop.
“Wow, I think we’ve stroked a nerve there, uh Zoro?” Nami says unsure.
Her voice makes him clear his head. Zoro sighs and returns to his sake. “I just think it’s a stupid thing to believe...” he shrugs.
Nami hums and nods. She then looks at you. “What about you, Y/N?” But she stops and frowns as you give a start. “You’ve been oddly quiet about this,” The redhead looks down to your right arm, which is strongly grabbed by your other hand.
“Well,” you clear your throat as you leave alone your upper arm, realizing Nami’s worried sight. “I’m not sure if it’s real or not,” you try to sound chill but fail.
Nami is the only one who reads you, although she doesn’t know why you’re acting like that, she helps you by changing the subject to distract the others.
Your friend’s voices fade away as your mind clouds in many thoughts. Instinctively, you grab your right arm again. On your inner bicep, there is tinted skin since birth, your soulmate’s mark, which you found not so long since you joined the straw hats crew, it’s the same form of three bamboo sticks that Zoro has tattooed on his left pectoral.
**
It has always been hard for Zoro to connect with other people. He calls himself a loner, but situations in life make him change that. First was his friend Kuina; although she passed away, he learned a lot thanks to her. Like Loyalty, keeping promises and love.
Then, Luffy jumped into his life and, in Luffy’s style, he shook Zoro’s mind with new lessons. As his crew got bigger, Zoro learned the real meaning of being a nakama. His trust grew with the straw hats (within his limits, of course).
Finally, you came along the way, a person Zoro never thought he needed until he had you. It all happened so naturally for him, to follow every movement you made, to look for you, to search your voice and laughter, and to hold your smaller hand.
If the others knew deep into his thoughts, they’d understand why he snapped at the idea of soulmates. He’s confident that his life is based on his strengths, decisions, and his guts. Magic or anything else didn’t do it. Him and only him. And maybe, that’s why he got distracted when Nami changed the subject so quickly and he hasn’t thought about it ever since. For now, he has more important things to care about… like you acting weird, avoiding and hiding from him and he doesn’t know why.
He has learned to give you time sometimes, but he senses something different, and it has been five days since you two had a real conversation. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“You should be at the market,” you answer without looking at him. You don’t stop in your tracks either. “Lost again?”
He scoffs rolling his eyes (yes, he got lost). “I’m worried,” he says in a serious tone.
“You shouldn’t, I’ll help you.”
“Hey,” he grabs your wrist and makes you turn to him. Your eyes fidget everywhere else but him. “What’s wrong?”
“What?”
“Don’t bullshit me,” he warns then, he sighs relaxing his features, then grabs your chin and makes you look at him. “Why don’t you want to talk?”
You sigh stepping away from his hand. “It’s nothing,” you whisper.
Zoro doesn’t think twice about grabbing your waist and pulling you to him in a big hug. You gasp at the sudden movement, but your body recognizes his warmth and strength, so you melt against him. You hide your face on his broad chest as you feel his lips on your hair. He hugs you for a while, humming and caressing your hips.
“I thought, I was the one with the communication issues, don’t take my place now,” You can feel his stupid smirk as you scoff rolling your eyes.
As always, his touch and voice relax your mind and body and the anxiety fades a little. You step back and raise your head to look at him.
“There you are,” he smiles. He caresses your cheek as you prepare yourself to confess.
You aren’t sure exactly why you are so afraid. It's not like Zoro’s gonna change, right? But the unknown terrifies you, that’s why you haven’t told him in all this time since you found out. And after that soulmate’s talk the other day, the anxiety kicks in instantly.
“Th-the other night…uh- Y-you said that. I mean…ugh!” You grunt. “Is- is that what you… of soulmates?” You make a face.
Zoro takes a moment to remember and then, he gets it. “Is that what’s all about? That legend? You believe in it, don’t you?” He frowns.
Your heart sinks. “I- I know...” you want to talk about your birthmark, but he interrupts you with another big hug.
“It’s okay, Doll,” he shrugs “I don’t care if you do.”
You frown. “But Zoro I–” you try to talk against his chest.
“I knew what I was getting into when we started dating.”
“What?” You lean back.
“Yeah,” he smirks looking down at you “I knew you were crazy since you joined the crew anyway,” he shrugs.
“What!? Hey!” You punch his chest as he bursts into laughter. “You fucking idiot,” you said incapable to hide your smile.
The goofy moment is gone when you both hear an explosion not so far from the Sunny.
**
When you open your eyes, you see Chopper’s office. You try to move, but there’s a sharp pain on your left shoulder that makes you whine.
“Hey, stop. You’ll open the wound!” Zoro helps you to get more comfortable on the med bed and he gives you some water.
“W-what happened?” You ask with a groan.
“You did a stupid, reckless thing. That’s what happened,” he groans.
“What?”
“The Marines almost caught you,” he clenches his jaw. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead.”
The memory flashes in your mind, you helped Nami and Robin fight against the Marines, but you got distracted for a second and then nothing. Zoro sits on a chair next to you, but then Chopper enters and climbs on your bed.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, voice and face in serious doctor mode.
“It hurt,” you smile at the adorable doctor.
“I’ll give you stronger pain killers,” he moves naturally around his office and back to you, checking your wounds. “All right, you have to rest in bed, no excuses!” he warns you. “And I’ll help you clean your wounds, after that Zoro can do it.”
Zoro nods. “Anything else, Doctor?” He smirks at him.
“Hmmm…” Chopper thinks. “Ah! Yes! Why you didn’t tell us that you two are soulmates?” He asks innocently.
“Uh?” Zoro frowns. You try to warn him with your eyes, but Chopper only frowns at you.
“She has the same mark as you!” He exclaims happy, but then, he senses something odd and stutters looking between you and Zoro as he gets nervous. “Uh… maybe I’m wrong?” He laughs awkwardly.
“It can happen to anybody, Chopper,” you continue with a tense smile.
Both of you laugh, then somebody calls to Chopper and he runs away.
“Well, I think I’m kinda hungry, Zoro,” you try to sound like nothing happened but you look at the swordsman. His body stays tense on the chair and his eyes are glued to somewhere in the room. “Zoro?” You wait for a while, getting worried. You grab his hand. “Zoro?”
“Where?” He asks.
“Uh?”
His eyes return to you. “Where is it? Is it–Is it true?”
You sigh as you carefully move the sheet that covers your body. Your upper body’s wrapped in just bandages and a thin top covering your breasts, but you turn a little and hiss when you raise your right arm enough to show him the three bamboo sticks. Zoro stands up and leans to softly grab your arm as his other hand traces the mark on his chest.
He lets go and sits again. “That’s why you avoided me,” he says to himself. “The things I said… but you are… the mark...”
“Are you broken?” You ask him, and he looks at you. Zoro notices your teary eyes and worried expression.
It’s a lot to process for him. A minute ago, he was angry because he couldn’t protect you enough to prevent your wounds, now he has discovered that the bullshit he always listened to it’s real and in front of him… all this time. Out of nowhere, Zoro chuckles and shakes his head.
“Oh, no...” you whine. “I did break you!”
“I-fuck, now everyone’s gonna mock me,” he grunts looking at you. His cheeks flush as he raises a hand to clean a tear dropping out. “I’m sorry.”
“Wh-why?”
“For saying those things, now I understand I...” he sighs. “Well, now I get why I always wanted to be at your side,” he makes a face and you couldn’t help but chuckle. You’re still confused but relieved at the same time, you never expected that reaction, but it's better.
“It wasn’t ‘cause I’m the most beautiful girl?” You tease. He laughs.
“Yeah, that too,” he takes your hand and kisses it.
“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner… I thought...”
“No, it’s okay,” he nods. “It’s better this way, at least in my head I fell for ya’ ‘cause I wanted to.”
You smile. “Me too. The tattoo was something extra.”
He chuckles and leans to kiss you.
Taglist.
@sosactrl @irethepotato
#twoidiots writing#one piece zoro#one piece#roronoa zoro x reader#rorona zoro#one piece x reader#zoro x reader#straw hat zoro
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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎 ~ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐠... 𝐒𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭
⋆。‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧。⋆



⋆。‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧。⋆
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rafe x Reader
𝐂𝐖: Size kink, rough sex, size comparison, degradation praise mix, light choking, overstimulation, manhandling
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Rafe proves just how much bigger and harder he is than you can handle.
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
⋆。‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧。⋆
⋆。‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧。⋆
It started with one smart little comment.
You’d joked that his hands made yours look like a child’s. He’d smirked. You teased about how your thighs barely wrapped around his waist. His jaw ticked. Then you whispered—too cocky, too bold—that maybe he wasn’t as big as he liked to act.
Big mistake.
Now you’re folded in half, spine nearly bent off the mattress, gasping as Rafe bullies the last inch of his cock inside your dripping, quivering heat.
His voice is low and mocking at your ear. “Still think I’m not that big, baby?”
You can’t answer. You can’t even breathe. He’s stretching you so deep you swear he’s kissing your damn cervix. Every thick inch of him pulses with heat inside you, and your poor, battered walls clench tight around his shaft, like your body is fighting him—like it knows it’s too much.
But he doesn’t stop.
No. Rafe grabs both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head like they’re nothing. His other hand holds your thigh open, fingers digging in so hard you’re sure there’ll be bruises in the shape of him. He likes that. Marking you. Owning you. Taking you like he’s never gonna let you forget.
He drags out of you slow, slick, a sticky string of arousal connecting his cock to your needy entrance before he slams back in, hard enough to shove the breath out of your lungs.
“Say it,” he growls, nose brushing your cheek. “Say I’m too big for you.”
You sob something half-coherent, fingernails scraping down his back, body shaking with the force of his thrusts. He’s got you locked down, completely caged, his weight pressing you into the mattress like he owns your whole damn soul.
“You wanted big,” he pants, snapping his hips forward with another brutal stroke. “So take it. Take every last inch, sweetheart. Stuffed full of me like the little toy you are.”
You’re drooling now, incoherent, legs trembling where they’re thrown over his shoulders. He’s deep. He’s never-ending. It feels like he’s touching parts of you no one else has ever even gotten close to. Every vein of his cock rubs right against your walls, turning every thrust into a near-religious experience.
Your orgasm crashes through you hard and messy—so hard you scream, legs kicking, thighs trembling. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He keeps pounding into you like you didn’t just shatter underneath him.
His fingers wrap around your throat—not tight, just enough to keep you right on that edge. His eyes are wild, pupils blown with lust. “You’re gonna come again,” he snarls, voice like gravel. “Come again on this big—thick—cock.”
You whimper. It’s too much. Too big. Too deep.
But you do.
Again. And again.
By the time Rafe spills inside you, your body is wrecked, twitching, dripping his release down your thighs as he finally pulls out with a slick, wet pop. You blink up at him, mind fuzzy, lips parted.
He just smirks.
“Told you I was bigger than you could handle.”
⋆。‧˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚‧。⋆
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Lemonade
Choso Kamo x y/n au
Synopsis: Y/n gets a new neighbor and he's really cute. Contents: Smooching, sad Choso past, cursing, flirty banter, not smut at all really just like leading up to it, cute ending,and fluff
Honestly it's like 12-13k words I think
July is probably one of the best months out of the year.
The summer heat, pool parties, long days, fireflies, icey pops, fireworks, late night concerts, and ice-cold lemonade. There are lots of things to love about July, so many things to enjoy about the summer month.
July has always been Y/ns favorite month, since she was a little kid. It seemed like everything great happened in the month of July for y/n. She met her best friend in July of '09. She had her first kiss with her best friend in July of 2013. Three years later almost to the date, she lost her virginity to him. The next, he asked her to be his girlfriend and told her he loved her.
But the year after, the fun of July stopped, a break screeching halt.
Turns out her best friend of 8 years, boyfriend of 1 broke up with her. In y/ns 18 year old mind. her life was over. she would never ever find love again. July fucking sucks.
and it did. for the next 4 years it sucked.
That was until y/n finally moved out of her bumfuck small southern town. Y/n finally got away, when it seemed everyone in that shitty town lived there until they died.
Y/n was finally doing it, making her own way of life. Sure, it wasn't a great living, but it was an honest living. Y/n worked her ass off to make the little income she did, spending it frugally. Y/n now lives about 3 states away from where she was born... In another small town. But this one is up north, where the residents know everyone and all the gossip. Y/n got most of her gossip from her clients at the hair salon, and man... those older women know EVERYTHING about everyone.
"You didn't hear it from me, but Janice is having an affair. I saw her at the motel off 15 with a man way too young for her. She was dressed like some sort of hooker in clothes way too small for her body."
Old women are brutal.
The community seemed to welcome y/n with open arms when she moved in earlier last year. Y/n has always had a charm about her, enchanting others with her smile and of course that cute southern accent she has. Adjusting to this new way of life was hard, but so freeing. Y/n had it mostly figured out by this point.
A pink little camper trailer sits on a small lot in the trailer park on the outskirts of town. It's quiet there, mostly older people who go to bed at 7pm. Y/n likes it here, no one knows her backstory, or really anything about her. They just know she's a 21 year old girl trying to make her way through life. They didn't need to know anything else, other than she makes the best lemonade in the whole world, taking it to every single cook out they have.
You know what y/n liked the most about living in the back of the trailer park? There was an empty lot next to hers, one that had the perfect amount of sun and shade. Y/n found herself taking a pool lounge chair (one she stole from the towns community pool) and spending most of her time sunbathing.
That was until someone purchased the lot July 1st.
Imagine the look on y/ns face when she walked out in her pretty blue bikini, sunnies perched on the bridge of her nose, and saw a single wide grey and white mobile home sitting smack dab in the middle of the lot. Yeah, it wasn't a pretty look. Walking across her small lawn, bare feet sinking into the overgrown grass, she opened the chain link gate that connected the two properties.
A curious little thing she is, good thing this isn't a horror movie.
Pushing her black sunglasses to the top of her head, she knocked on the door. What was the plan? To tell them to move? To ask them if she could still use their lawn to suntan? Y/n didn't know. Especially when the front door swung open.
"Hi there" oh fuck me.
Taking up most of the doorway, stood a man.
No.
Not just a man, a god of some sort.
He lifts his arms up, grabbing the top of the door frame, flexing his triceps as he leans down a little. His black tee raises a little, exposing delicious pale skin with a trail of dark hair leading down the center of his stomach. His hair dark brown, styled in loose spiky topknots with strands perfectly framing his chiseled face. His dark eyes look serious in their slightly narrowed manner.
"Uhm hi" y/n takes a step back, her voice uneven and slightly squeaky. Tucking a tendril of hair behind her ear, she speaks again, more clearly this time. "i-im y/n. your neighbor" Turning slightly to point towards her lot. "I just wanted to say hi"
"You always say hi to your neighbors in tiny bikinis?" his brow raises and a sly smirk pulls at his lips.
"No, I was actually coming over to tan. I bring my own chair and everythin'"
"in my yard?"
"well, you see, I always tan right over there, you see where that tree is? but when I came out today.. you were just here"
"here i am" He says stating the obvious.
"so I guess, I'll just be on my way then" y/n took the steps off his porch and made it about 10 feet away from the new man in the neighborhood before she heard him speak again.
"I never said you couldn't lay in my yard"
Turning around with that charming smile on her face, she jumped up and down. "Really? Thank you thank you!"
"Choso." was all he said with a slight nod.
"Cho-what?"
"Thats my name, darlin" and now he was making fun of her, saying 'darlin' with a twang that's so very exaggerated.
"hah hah very funny"
As a thanks, y/n knew she had to make him some of her famous lemonade. Taking a big pitcher straight to his door. Choso thought it was weird, taking homemade things to your neighbors seemed so 20 years ago. That wasn't something you did in this day of age, especially for people you just met.
And how good could lemonade even get?
Apparently it could get really fucking good. Choso was sure she put drugs in the yellow drink, it had to have gmos in it or something. He didn't know and he didn't care, she sure as hell can make the best lemonade anyone has ever had. Choso drank the whole pitcher in one day, passing the empty (still dirty) glassware back to y/n who was still laying in his yard.
There was something about this Choso guy that intrigued y/n, just from the little conversation they had she could tell he was confident with who he was and could tell he would never be anyone but himself.
And boy was he a looker.
Inky black hair that was pulled into cute little buns on the back of his head, creamy white skin, muscular arms that are thick and biteable. The way he smirks is not for the weak, any girl would fold if he even looked at her. Not y/n though. Sure, at first his striking looks took her by surprise, but after getting to know Choso a little, he was a challenge for her.
And y/n never backs down from a challenge.
It was almost like a ritual at this point. Every day for the past few weeks, y/n gets off of work around 4pm and heads to change into a bikini (today is red, because Choso stares the most when she's in red) and drags her pool chair over to the Kamo lawn. Blasting music from her small little speaker, she waits. Waits for Choso to get out of work and speed his way home, blowing through all the stops signs. Just so he has a few extra seconds to chat with (and stare at) y/n while she's soaking in the sun's rays.
And as if on cue, the sound of gravel crunching under tires and screeching breaks assault y/ns ears. Peaking over her sunnies, she watches with amusement as Choso rushes out of his Hellcat. Fumbling with several things in his hands as he tries to shut the door with his foot.
"Slow down Kamo, youre gonna hurt ya self"
“Hey pretty thing” he says as smoothly as possible, learning up against the side of his coup, crossing his ankles. "me? hurting myself? never" he laughs pushing himself off, taking heavy steps towards y/n.
"why you in a rush to get home? work couldn't have been that bad"
"to see you of course" Choso grins, tossing his keys onto the small patio table next to y/n.
"I'm not going anywhere, coulda took your time"
"Well i gotta get over here before someone sees a doll like you and snatches you up" He winks, crouching down, bouncing on the balls of he feet. Over the past two weeks, the two have been oh so flirty. Never once moving past the invisible line drawn in the sand. But there was a lot of winks, flirty banter, and eyes wondering where they shouldn't. It was just fun for them. Especially for Choso since he has never met anyone who could keep up with his flirting, let alone be a bigger flirt than him... which y/n was.
"Yeah yeah. no one wants little ole me" She shakes her head, closing her eyes to keep the sun from burning them. "Yeah whatever. Listen, imma work on my honey here in a minute, and I was wonderin' if you could hold my flashlight for me"
"It's day time, Choso. You don't need me to hold your flashlight" This guy was always trying to get y/n to hold his flash light. And at this point, y/n was 87percent sure he wasn't talking about an actual flashlight.
"Alright alright, you enjoy the sun" Choso stood up, expecting that to be the end of the conversation.
"Oh wait wait" y/n swung her legs off the chair "Let me get you something to drink for while you work" Y/n loves to watch Choso work on his car. He gets all hot and sweaty, shirt covered in various types of car gunk with his hair held back in those cute little buns. What a sight. She would even set up a lawn chair in his driveway just to watch him, not that Choso minded, the boy loved to show off his vast knowledge to y/n. "Sure thing, sugar. Always looking out for me, huh?" The man smiled wide, showing off his pretty teeth.
Y/n ran inside to grab a glass of ice cold lemonade, with a pretty straw as well. Choso couldnt help but watch as y/n hips moved while she walked. Her ass perfectly plump and round, so pretty he wanted to sink his teeth into it.. or her hips, or tummy,, or literally anywhere he could. Leave teeth marks deep enough to scar, so everyone would know she's spoken for.
"For you, my good sir" Y/ns soft voice rang in his ears, pulling him out of his perverted thoughts. "Thank you, sweets" Choso leaned forward to not only grab the glass but to also press a small kiss on the side of y/ns cheek. "Aye cho! don't want the other neighbors to think I'm taken" y/n joked swatting at his shoulder playfully. "No, I do want them to think you're taken"
Y/n learned a lot about choso in just a few weeks. Of course, the first few times speaking was just small talk or y/n taking cookies and lemonade over. Y/n honestly had no idea he would soon come to beg for them every single day. It's not like y/n minded, this opened up room for them to talk casually about anything and everything. And Choso said a lot of weird things.
The guy was very talkative, telling y/n of his past. How he grew up with like 5 younger brothers, how he always had a passion for music but was always shut down by his dad. He misses his mom a lot, but there was nothing he could do to bring her back. Y/ns heart hurt for him, hearing how his father killed his mom during a drunken fit of rage when he was 12. How there was nothing he could do other than try to protect his brothers.
Choso protected his baby siblings as much as he could, often taking most of the beatings. But within those harsh moments, he became who he is now. Music was all he had to protect himself, seeking clarity and freedom in the form of melodies.
If it weren't or his youngest brother, called Yuji, Choso would have never left. Yuji was all he has left of his family. Drugs and violence are what tore his family apart, taking most of his brothers away from him as well. Yuji only ever spoke highly of his eldest brother, telling him how he has the talent to make it big in this world. How Choso wishes he could have brought his younger brother with him but ultimately opting to leave his brother back home to finish out high school. Yuji swore he would be okay; his teacher and mentor Satoru Gojo would look after him until he graduates.
Now that hoso works at the mechanic shop and somehow landed a gig down at the shitty bar downtown, life was looking up. He found a drummer and a bassist through local ads and now has his very own band. Things were finally falling into place and he's only been in town for a little over a month now. He knew he would be able to bring his brother to town permanently as soon as he graduates.
It was a weird feeling, knowing someone else had just as bad as an upbringing as her. But maybe that's where they found common ground? A space to feel safe opening up about past traumas. Other than that, it was practically oil and water with the two, but those are always the best friendships.
Something about the smell of barbecue cookouts always made the summer heat tolerable. The smoke passed through the air for what seemed like miles, always finding it's way to y/n. It made her miss back home (where the barbeque is actually good) but something about a simple cookout always made y/n wish she had friends to share it with. Sure, she had work friends here and there, but nothing that stuck. Choso would be the closest thing she had to a friend.
"Choso!!" Y/n yelled as her fist pound against the Kamo door. She heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the inside as she continued to bang against the wood. "Relax sweets" Choso flung the door open. Today, y/nis wearing a jean mini skirt and a yellow bikini top. Her hips look so perfect as the skirt hung low on her hipbones, creating the most feminine figure.
"You know how to light a grill?" Y/n asked batting her eyelashes. "Only if you feed me too" he leaned against the door frame, his arms long enough to reach the top of the framing while he puffed his chest out slightly. He looked so good in a black wife beater, the color always looked so pretty against his skin. Especially with the way he was holding onto the doorframe, accentuating his muscular arms.
"What kind of person would I be if I didn't feed my favorite neighbor?" Y/n asked already turning around to head back to her home. "I'll be out there in a minute, sugar" Choso chuckled watching as y/n padded bare foot across his lawn.
The two sat outside on the little fold out chairs y/n had purchased from an estate sale months ago, eating almost burnt hotdogs smothered in mustard and sharing a bag of potato chips. Two now almost empty glasses of lemonade occupied the little space left on the small table, the bendy straws were always such a cute touch, something Choso thoroughly enjoyed. Listening to the crickets' chirp and the howling of the wind as it hit the trees, taking in the cool breeze the atmosphere had to offer on such a warm day like today. It was moments like this they both cherished. Something so sweet and thoughtless, always seemed the have the most meaning.
"Stay for a movie?" Y/n spoke after she took a sip of her freshly made lemonade. "Dinner and a show!? You must like me" Choso teased with as smile, then took a sip of his lemonade. "Ehh I guess you could say that"
They never sat too close, but it was hard not sitting right next to each other. Y/n didn't even own a couch.. well she couldn't fit one inside of her tiny camper. It was just her bed, so the two would lay next to each other as they watched the movie. Movie nights were not a common occurrence for the two young adults, but it was something that has now happened a few times in the past 2 months.
When it did happen, they would wake up tangled together in the early morning. Faces burrowed into necks, legs intertwining, arms wrapped snugly around each other, and nothing but a— "good morning, sweetheart" And a — "did I say you could spend the night?"
A coffee and a bagel was the normal send off for Choso during mornings like this. A quick kiss on the cheek before he went to work always left y/n a blushing mess. Whatever the two had was something special, it was rare. How many people can make you feel extraordinary? Y/n knew choso was the only person in the world who could make her feel that way. Something about this type of friendship was hard to come across, but when it did happen, it always grew into something beautiful.
"Teach me how to play" y/n said as choso was walking up the steps of his trailer. His guitar case in one hand and his keys in the other. "Oh shit!" Choso jumped from the sound of y/ns voice, hair flying about in the air as he whipped around to see y/n peaking from around his front porch. It was like she was waiting for the most opportune moment to say something, hiding in the shadows of the bushes and all. "Sorry" a giggle came from y/ns lips as it wasn't her intention to scare the tall man. "God, sweets. Can't be jumping up on me like that" Choso relaxed as he flipped through his key ring to find the one to his front door. "I didn't mean to, just wanted to see you tonight" y/n shrugged as she followed him up his steps. She wore a blue tank top with lace trimmings around the edges paired with some cute care bear pajama shorts, a big cashmere cardigan and fluffy house shoes. "Is that so?" Choso smirked as he pushed the door open, moving to the side so y/n could walk first.
"It is. Since I couldn't make it to your show tonight, but had to see you" slipping in past him, y/n made herself comfortable on the metal heads small sectional couch, kicking off her shoes and sitting criss cross. "You want a drink?" The sweaty man asked as he closed the front door, locking it shut. "Whatcha got?" Y/n perked up, instantly feeling so much better now that she was in Choso's space. "I got coke, beer, and the last bit of your lemonade you brought over the other day" He threw his keys in a large bowl by the door and set his guitar down. The way his muscles moved as he pulled of his leather jacket; wet is what y/n became. His hips in those tight fucking jeans—oh fuck yeah y/n was definitely wet. Something about Choso being all sweaty made y/n go absolutely wild, the way he smelled, the way his skin glistened, the way it made her want to drop her panties and spread her legs.
"Cho! I brought you that lemonade this morning! It was a full pitcher!" Y/n laughed trying to cover up her obvious stares. "What can I say, sweetheart? You make the best lemonade in the state— maybe the world" "Coming from a southern gal like me.. it's not the best. But it makes due up here" "You're from the south? Is that why you talk all funny and say iron and oil all weird?" Choso winked with a teasing smile just before turning to head to the kitchen. "Hey! You said you would stop making fun of me for saying iron and oil all funky" y/n shot up. "Oh I did say that, huh?" choso mocked y/ns voice with a smile on his face. There was nothing he loved more than riling y/n up. "I don't talk like that!" Y/n walked up to him, standing up on her tip toes to seem more intimidating. "You do sweets." —"but it's to die for!" Choso took a fake jab at his chest with his fist and stumbled back dramatically. "Youre annoying" y/n faked a scowl. "Go sit down so I can get you a drink" choso shooed y/n back to the living room.
"You'll teach me to play tonight?" Y/ns voice called from the living room as she plopped herself back on the couch, shuffling through the several magazines Choso had lying about. "Sure thing, sugar" Choso set down two glasses on the coffee table, one with lemonade and one with coke from a two liter. "Take your pick" "Coke, I know you like the lemonade so much" "So considerate of me always, huh?" A wink from him was enough to fluster y/n all over again. One thing Choso enjoyed, was watching y/ns cheeks heat up in the prettiest shade of pink he'd ever seen
Late nights were always so pretty at the trailer park, even more so when Choso had y/n in his lap, showing her different cords on his first true love. It wasn't that y/n really wanted to learn to play the guitar, it was for her to spend time with Choso. Although he would have spent time with her no matter what time of day and without a lousy excuse. But she did look so pretty with her hair over one shoulder while Chosos chin sat gently on the other, looking over to watch as their fingers played together. "M'gonna need a lot more practice if I want to be as good as you" "My door is always open for you" Choso whispered with a soft kiss to her shoulder.
The night continued until about 2:30am, taking breaks from playing the guitar— badly— to sitting and talking about their day, talking about Choso friends back home, how one would effectively rob a bank, and how old they were when they had their first kiss. Y/n being 13 and Choso being 17.
"You were a total slut back then huh?" Choso teased, which earned a shove to his shoulder from the girl sitting across from him on the couch. "Don't be an ass! He wasn't even cute and it was after lunch— his breath totally smelled like cheeseburger and milk" y/n shuddered at the memory of the kiss that haunts her. "he was my best friend at the time" "Go on, tell me his name" "Beau Cooper, he was about two inches shorter than me and was the running back on our schools football team" "That name just screams backwoods hick" Choso laughed taking his final sip of his lemonade. "Hey! That's all I had to work with, and it wasn't worth it" y/n laughed along with Choso. "he totally broke my heart when i was 18, but that was years ago"
"Go on tell me yours now, Kamo" Y/n wiggled her eyebrows, needing to know the details of chosos first kiss.
"Her name was Shelby Chase, she had pretty red hair and played the drums, I met her at this bar back home—She asked me to meet her backstage and I don't know we kind of kissed. It was so lame, y/n. I turned into a mumbling mess and just left" Choso shook his head in embarrassment.
And for some odd reason, y/n felt a surge of jealousy rip through her body. It was silly, of course choso has kissed many girls since then. y/n has kissed many boys since her first kiss, so it didnt make sense why she felt so jealous.
Well, she wasnt jealous that choso has kissed girls that werent y/n. it was the fact that he kissed girls that looked nothing like her.
Of course, Choso would want someone who's like him, not someone who looked like y/n. A girl with piercings and who wore dark clothes and likes the same music as him. not y/n who wears bright clothes and only has one tattoo and who listens to harry styles.
"Thats very embarrassing Cho" y/n forced a laugh that Choso didn't seem to notice was fake. "it was so embarrassing. Just happy i never saw her again after" Choso was still laughing as he relived the memory.
"Do you think you're a good kisser?" Choso asked after their laughter died down.
Again y/n wasn't really laughing. It was more like a fake laugh fueled by the rage of fire igniting in her person from the jealousy. AND what was there to be jealous about to begin with? Absolutely nothing at all! She had kissed plenty of guys and Choso has surely kissed plenty of girls since then, so no reason to be upset over something so little. But maybe all the girls Choso has kissed and liked were metal heads and liked 'The Metallics' or 'Maids of Iron' or whatever they were called.
Oh god! Should y/n put more effort to liking what Choso does? Maybe that will get his attention in a romantic way.
"I mean, I hope I'm good. No one has ever complained. What about you?" y/n finally answered. "I've been told I kiss like a princess— i don't know if that's good or bad" "That probably means you kiss really soft and pretty." Y/n nodded, oh god to kiss those lips and see how pretty he kisses. "So is that good? Or bad?" He was curious, how can a guy kiss like a princess? Did he need to put more pressure? Did he need to use his tongue more? It was killing him and he hasn't kissed anyone in months. What if he got worse in his time lost?
"I don't know, I've never kissed someone that kisses like a pretty pink princess" y/n laughs leaning forward to play with a loose strand of hair next to his face. "No one said pretty pink princess, just princess" "Are you going to show me or what... princess?" Y/n smiled leaning a little closer, enough for Choso to feel her breath on his face.
He almost choked.. a breath caught in the back of his throat, not expecting y/n to ask. Sure he wanted to kiss her, hence why he asked her if she was good at kissing or not. But he didn't think she would actually be okay with it. "I mean, not if it'll change anything between us" Choso answered honestly, he would hate to lose y/n over a stupid kiss. "It's just a kiss Cho, means nothing" a lie. A fucking lie. That kiss was going to mean so much to y/n. "Y-yeah yeah of course. Just a kiss" it kind of stung a little to hear that it wasn't going to mean anything to y/n, because since day one he just wanted to kiss her and take good care of her.. like a good man does. "You have to show me what you got though, not a little peck, I want to feel your princess power" she whispers, eyes dropping down to his lips then back up to those molten chocolate eyes. "Lay back then, sweetheart" he whispered back, voice barely audible.
Dripping.
That's what y/n was.
His voice so soft yet had so much assertiveness to it. It was dark and rich, like molasses, but so smooth like warmed up syrup.
Nodding, y/n moved back, laying on her back. Head laid on the arm rest of the couch, waiting for Choso to climb on top of her. It was agonizing, having him crawl over her body felt like it was taking too long. His arms holding his upper body steady, caging y/ns head between his forearms, one knee resting between her thighs and the other smushed between her and the back of the couch. His breath heavy, matching y/ns, both of their hearts felt like they were going to explode. The anticipation was killing them.
Leaning further down, y/n could smell what was left of his cologne before it was sweated off, still smelling so delicious. Choso could smell y/ns body wash, like sugar cookies.. so fucking sweet. Noses bumping together before their lips could actually touch, making y/n giggle softly.
"Kiss me" y/n whispers, she needed it.
The feeling of Chosos lips was like something else, on her bare skin it made her legs wobbly, but in her lips.. fuck she would have collapsed if she were standing up.
Like a fucking princess is right.
Chosos lips were so soft and slow in movement, taking his time exploring y/n. Their lips slotting together slowly in a mix of changing directions and who's bottom lip was between the others. Soon enough, Chosos tongue was taking languid swipes across y/ns bottom lip, begging for a taste of her own tongue.
His hips resting more weight on y/ns body as he wanted to feel more of her person. It was so soft and pretty, their tongues touching ever so gently together. Sucking on y/ns tongue tenderly before continuing to kiss her lips was making her want to rip his clothes off.
Y/ns hands went from Chosos hips to his neck, holding him as close as possible, slotting her fingers through his hair. Tugging gently on his hair at the nape of his neck was enough to pull a moan out of him, slipping into y/ns partially open mouth.
"Fuck- I'm- I'm sorry" Choso pulled back to look at y/ns eyes. "It's okay. I'm sorry" y/n apologized for taking what was happening too far. "No, don't be" Choso pushed himself back, so he was no longer on top of y/n, holding his hand out to her to help her sit up as well.
"You definitely kiss like a princess" y/n laughed while adjusting her tank top to properly cover her chest. "Yeah?" Choso let out a low chuckle closing his eyes. God what does that even mean? "It's a good thing. Its good— great actually. You're very soft and kind. Like you want to take your time and not rush anything"—"And your tongue too, a lot of guys don't know how to make them not pointy, yours was soft and flat but still knew direction"
"Well, that's a lot more helpful than when I asked the girl who originally said that I kiss like a princess, she just said, 'i don't know you just do' so thank you" Choso blushed softly, now knowing he probably does kiss really well. "Oh and you sucking my tongue, god I've never done that before" y/n blushed, eyes flashing to his lips quickly. "You like that, yeah?" Choso got a boost of confidence.
Sitting before him is the most beautiful, confident, and intimidating girl he has ever met... and he's making her blush. "Yeah, it was new and fun. I liked it a lot actually." "Want to do it again?" Choso teased, an actual question but one he could play off as a joke. "Cho! No— okay yeah, can you just go slow though" putty in his hands. "Anything you want, sweetheart" Choso cupped y/ns face pulling her closer to him.
Fuck.
That second kiss was better than the first. Not fireworks or movie magic or anything like that. But fucking amazing.
Choso took his time once again. The man is slow and methodical in the way he kisses. "Stick your tongue out, sweets— yeah just like that pretty girl.. yeah just like that" his voice rugged in a low calm whisper sent y/n reeling.
"mmm taste so good" Choso mumbled against y/ns tongue before going back in for more.
Fuck you Choso.
Gentle sucks from Chosos lips on y/ns tongue has her clenching her thighs together, trying to suppress the feeling that was happening between her thighs. "Such a pretty tongue" Choso groaned pulling back for just a second, still holding y/ns face between his calloused hands.
"Again" y/n whispered. "Again? You like it that much?" His voice smooth like the coffee y/n gives him in the mornings. "Mmhmm please" She squeaked with her eyes still closed, waiting for Chosos lips to touch hers again.
"Want me to kiss your neck too, sweets?" Choso asked letting his right hand slip from her face down to her neck. His thick fingers tracing over her pulse point while he waited for an answer. "Yes please" y/n let out a shaky breath.
"You'll never be able to mow that lawn with the choke you got on that" Choso called leaning over the fence that separated the two yards. "Hah hah very funny, if you don't think I can do it, how bout you come and do it for me?" Y/n stood up straight, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side.
That's how she got him every time, pretending she didn't know how to start up the lawn mower. She got him, every single time, wearing those daisy dukes, a bikini top, hair in a messy ponytail, with hands on her hips. the silly boy didnt know any better. that and he couldn't resist her.
"What's in it for me this time, sweetheart?" Choso questioned making his way to the gate that separated the yards. The weeds in the small yard were substantially overgrown, blossoming into an eyesore.
"Lemonade? Maybe a sandwich"
"Oh you know I could never pass up your famous sandwiches and lemonade" Choso chuckled walking into the yard. He had just gotten back from his day shift at the shop. He was already pulling off his work shirt, leaving him in just his dark wash jeans.
How is this man so ripped?
What a sight.
Tattoos littered his arms and chest, something about the contrast of his pale skin and the dark ink was so pretty. Something y/n could never seem to take her eyes off of. Y/n has mentioned time and time again how pretty he'd look with some sort of face tattoo. What y/n didn't know was he had finally made the appointment for this coming Friday.
"Get to work then, handsome" Y/n smiled stepping away from the beat up lawn mower she purchased from a neighbor down the way. "Play some music for me sweets" Choso nodded towards the small radio y/n always had sitting outside the camper.
It was a week after their kiss.. well kisses. Y/n was littered with hickeys from her jawline to her shoulders for days. Even now choso could still see the faint markings on her chest.
Choso was even gentle giving hickeys, again taking his time, making sure they were in the perfect spots. Nothing happened passed that. Other than y/n going home to finish herself off after what Choso had started. When she got home her panties were completely soaked through, wanting—no— needing any sort of relief.
"Wow you really outdid yourself today" y/n smiled at chosos handiwork. While Choso was outside, y/n was cleaning up her home, Sundays were always deep cleaning day. Scrubbing top to bottom, every nook and cranny. She held onto a small laundry basket with one arm, propping it on the side of her hips as she walked down the small steps of the camper. "I washed your shirt. I'm just gonna to hang it up to dry" y/n set the basket down and began to clip up various articles of clothing on the small wire set up she had going for her.
"What did I deserve to have someone as perfect as you?" Chosos sweaty front pressed to the back of y/ns body, arms circling her waist and a wet kiss to the side of her neck. "Gross!"— "now I'm all sweaty, Cho!" "Guess you'll have to shower, maybe we can save some water and do it together" Choso continued to press gentle kisses to the side of y/ns neck.
Y/n felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy as Chosos lips traced a line from her ear to her shoulder, retracing where his hickeys were just a few days ago. "In your dreams Kamo. Go shower and I'll make you that sandwich" y/n pulled his arms from off of her, earning a whine from the boy. "Fine! Continue to play hard to get. But jokes on you baby, the more you push is the harder I try"
Baby
That was new. It was normally 'sweets' 'sweetheart' or 'sugar' that Choso called her.
Y/n called it the three S's, it was the holy trinity of Choso Kamo.
'Baby' definitely had an effect on y/n, one that was subtle, but still noticed. He didn't even mean to call her baby, honest, it just slipped.
Now that Choso was all fresh and clean, he smelt of a dreamy pine tree— if that was even possible— and his hair always smelled of lavender, he was now ready for his late lunch.
"For you, cut just how you like it" y/n smiled as the ceramic plate hit the small wooden table. Choso preferred his sandwiches cut down the middle, not diagonally, very controversial to many who prefer triangles. Before y/n could even finish filling up a fresh glass with his lemonade she heard a deep moan come from the man in her dining area.
"God damn y/n you seriously make the best sandwich in the whole world, what do you do to it?" Choso mumbled with his mouth full of food.
Turning around she set down the lemonade and places a bendy straw inside. Y/n smiled as she reached for a napkin and wiped the edges of his mouth before answering.
"It's a secret." "You can tell me" Choso pushed, he didn't want to really know, he just knew y/n made the best sandwiches.
"No can do. You'll go off and make them yourself and then who would I make my sandwiches for?" Y/n sat down in the seat across from him, reaching over to take the other half of the sandwich.
"I would never do that to you, I know you love to make me food, like a little housewife"
"Watch your mouth Choso, I am nobody's housewife" y/n said before taking a bite of the turkey sandwich. A comfortable silence consumed them as they ate, once finished y/n began to make Choso another sandwich. Only because y/n knew this man can eat. (Once, for scientific purposes, they found out Choso can eat 8 full sandwiches before feeling completely full)
"Sooo... my brother and a few friends are flying in this weekend. They were able to get a week out here. I really want you to meet them. They think I made up that we are friends"—"Actually one of them said there was no way someone so hot would even talk to me" Choso rolled his eyes.
Y/n wondered how they even knew what she looked like. It totally was because Choso sent a picture of y/n sunbathing in his yard to the group chat. (And the smart mouth was Toge.) Pretty mouthy for a guy who didn't actually speak with his words.
"Well now we have to keep them guessing, keep me your little secret" Y/n threw a wink over her shoulder. "Please please please, I'll do anything!" Choso fake whined, standing up. "You want me to get on my knees and beg? I will" Choso began to kneel down.
"Choso no" yn giggled grabbing his wrists and pulling him back up. "you know I'd love to meet your brother, but whats in it for me if i also meet those losers you call friends?"
"I will do anything you want! Whenever you want!" Again, the large man began to lower himself to his knees, and a part of y/n wanted to watch him beg pathetically.
"You have to be more specific than that, Cho" Y/n shook her head, pushing him to sit at the small dining table.
"I'll buy you those pretty sunglasses you told me about" Choso was hoping that would be enough, he once listened to y/n rant about some sunnies she saw in a magazine, telling him how badly she needed them in her life.
"And a new bikini, your pick" y/n continued to bargain.
"Deal, oh and can you bring some lemonade, they also say that lemonade can't be that good"
"I'm gonna have to throw in a new lipstick to the deal if you want lemonade"
"Whatever you want, baby"
Baby.
There it was again.
That one little word that had y/ns insides a scrambled mess. Sure, she had her fair share of flings throughout her life, but not once had a man made her weak in the knees the way Choso does. This sort of feeling has never happened to her before. She was one to walk with a purpose, plump lips, hips swinging, perfectly shaved long legs, the embodiment of divine femininity, a goddess in Chosos eyes. But with the way Choso is making her feel, she no longer felt like the girl she used to be.
"Okay, I'll meet your friends when they come down"
They fall back into a comfortable silence, enjoying the sandwich they shared, taking turns sipping that perfectly flavored lemonade, playing footsie under the table.
Don't get Choso wrong, he loved to try to make y/n crumble, but her rubbing her pretty foot along his shin, working her way up to his thighs— fuck it made him so weak. Her perfectly manicured toes with those silver toe rings and anklet made him almost lose his mind. And on top of that, she was able to have a perfectly normal conversation as if she wasn't just grazing his inner thigh with her foot.
Y/n had many questions on how Yuji and the others were able to come down to visit while school was still in session. And for the most part Choso answered.
"I just don't understand how the absences will be excused?"
"Gojo will take care of that, so there's no need to worry"
"yeah, but like.. won't they be missing out on some of their education?"
"it's just a week, plus they will probably have a trip right when they get back"
"what kind of trip?"
"I don't think I can disclose that information"
"and one of the little ones can talk but chooses not to?"
"he says things like 'salmon tuna' and 'mustard leaf'"
"is he autistic?"
"no"
"i don't understand any of this"
"it's better if you just don't ask questions"
"are they like secret agents?"
"sorta but not really"
"so they are your brothers' friends, not yours?"
"My brothers friends are my friends, plus their teacher will come with them"
"do you know this teacher?"
"he's a good friend of mine"
"This is really weird. How many of them are coming?"
"Just 4, they can't bring the panda"
"there's a guy named panda?"
"no, he's an actual panda"
"an actual panda? And the teacher guy had a son that's not really his son?"
"yeah Gojo kinda like adopted him after his real dad abandoned him. Then the dad tried to kill Gojo"
"thats insane"
"yeah Gojos rich, like filthy rich."
"and he's just happy being a teacher?"
"yeah the dudes like super happy and energetic all the time"
"I'm gonna go to bed. This is exhausting"
The week flew by, and y/n was getting nervous about meeting Chosos brother. This was a big step in their relationship... well it wasn't even a relationship. The two shared several more kisses throughout the week.. again, nothing went past sloppy kisses and some heavy dry humping.
Friday came around and Choso didn't come home when he normally does. Y/n figured he was out drinking, or he had a gig she didn't know about. So, she chose to lounge around watching whatever movies she had on DVD.
Until she heard a knock at her door. Grinning, y/n stood up and softly padded her way to the camper door.
"it's about time you- CHOSO!!!" Y/n screamed seeing the fresh markings on Chosos perfectly smooth skin. "Oh my god oh my god" She immediately pulled him in her camper, not caring if the door was shut or not. The whole structure shaking and rocking from her frantically shoving the bulky man down on her bed.
Nothing but giggles came from Chosos lips as y/n inspected his face. Holding his cheeks in her hands, she turned his head from side to side, eyes scanning the tattoo.
"Do you like it? It's a little splotchy since it's got the wrap on it and all my plasma is leaking out of my body"
"Did the parts on your eyes hurt?" Y/n wanted to touch it, to trace the line across his nose and the ones falling down his cheeks that resembled tear marks.
"Yeah a little. But I'm a big boy"
"Jesus Christ you look so fucking hot"
That night ended in a pretty hot and heavy make out session.. just letting you guys know that now.
and choso may or may not have came in his pants from y/n grinding on him.
It was kind of cute. Seeing this big man all tatted up becoming a whimpering mess under y/ns touch. Him begging for more. The way he panted into y/ns open mouth. His little "please pl-please please" And the guttural moan that escaped his throat as he bit down on y/ns shoulder as he came.
"Hey Cho!" Y/n walked into Chosos home, now filled with his friends sprawled all out in the living room.
"Hey sweetheart, I'm glad you could make it" Choso sprung up from the couch, walking over to y/n and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
"Everyone this is y/n, y/n this is everyone" Choso turned around to see everyone with wide eyes, surprised that y/n actually showed up and to see that she allowed him to kiss her.
"Hi, nice to meet y'all" y/n waved with a pretty smile, goddamn that smile made every person in the room feel some sort of way.
Something about y/n was that she was the most confident person in the room, she radiates it. She knows she is that girl, the one that gets the guy, the one who could steal anyones man, the one who got asked to prom by many potential suitors, the one who was captain of the cheer team, the one who had it all.
"I'm Gojo!" The boy with a white hair blurted out unprompted.
"That was so cool of you" another one said holding a thumbs up to the guy. This one was lanky and had black hair that looked like he just ran his fingers through it in the morning and called it a day. Y/n could tell from the banter that he was Megumi, Gojos kinda son.
Y/n couldn't help but think they all had weird names.
"Come on sweets, I saved you a spot next to me" Choso held his hand out for y/n to take, walking her to the couch. "Here put the lemonade down first" y/n held out the pitcher full of—"the best drink in the whole world"— as Choso would put it. "Sure thing" He smiled taking the pitcher, pouring himself a glass in the process.
"You smell so pretty" one of the smaller ones said as y/n sat down on the couch. He has pink hair and y/n instantly recognized him as Yuji.
"Yuji, shut it" Choso snapped as he stepped back into the living room.
"Thank you cutie" y/n smiled down at the boy who sat on the floor with his back resting on the couch.
"You do" Choso whispered in y/ns ear as he sat down. "It's the perfume you like" y/n smiled while crossing her legs. She smelt of marshmallows and warm white chocolate, so sweet, just how Choso likes it.
Everyone wanted to know more about y/n, where she came from, why she's friends with Choso, literally everything. She them how she grew up, information Choso already knew, how she used to get into fights all the time, how she has learned to make a living for her own.
"Did Choso pay you to come over?" The one called Gojo asked cocking his head to the side. "What? No of course he didn't, Cho is a dear friend of mine" Choso silently thanked God for y/n not mentioning that he did have to beg her to come as well as the new things he had to buy for her.
"Are you his girlfriend?"
"No, Choso is just a friend, although he is such a flirt" "Hey! You are the flirt not me" Choso defended himself. "Yeah yeah Kamo, didn't you ask me to shower with you last night?" y/n smirked making everyone's eyes go to Choso. "Hey! Is nothing sacred between us?"
"Choso you can't just ask hot girls to shower with you" Gojo said with a head shake. "Gojo you can't just call hot girls hot!" Megumi added in along with a "tuna tuna" From the quiet one. "Stop calling her hot!" Choso yelled with his hands in fists, glaring at all the friends with a look of warning. "And you might not be able to say shit, but you too Inumaki"
He didn't think this get together would be a bad idea at first, but now seeing as they were all basically star struck with y/n, he wished he could have just kept her his little secret. But now they know about her lemonade, and how amazing it tastes, now they won't be able to resist her.
"Real quick, Choso said it would be better if I didn't ask questions... but like, why are you wearing a blindfold, and why do you keep saying fish things?" Y/n had been dying to say something since she first laid eyes on the weird bunch. "oh and what about this panda guy? Choso said he's an actual panda? Like a stuffed animal or what?
"You didn't tell her?" Gojo laughed loudly, bellied over trying to catch his breath. Honestly no one else laughed, for some reason the eldest of the group found things funny when they shouldn't have been.
"Tell me what?" y/n looked over to Choso with puppy dog eyes.
"Don't look at me with those eyes baby. You know what they do to me" Choso said in a low voice.
"You really didn't tell her?" Yuji cut in.
"someone better tell me or im gonna kick someones ass"
"like you'd be able to fight us off" Megumi scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Okay Edward shut up" Yuji laughed (his girlfriend made him watch twilight a few days ago and has been waiting to bring it up nonchalantly) which earned a glare from Megumi, that had Yuji cowering.
"Oh I love twilight" y/n high fived Yuji "but really what hasn't Choso told me?"
"Other than that dude is like a master sorcerer, which is a life he's choosing to leave behind to become some sort of rocker guy, I'm sure he's told you everything"
Now it was y/ns turn to laugh.. alone. Because for whatever reason no one else found what Gojo just said funny. There was a long string of silence that followed. No one said anything, just staring at y/n and then back at Choso.
"oh shit you really didn't tell her"
"I've known her for like 4 months, how do I just bring up the fact that I'm not completely normal and have a super sick blood manipulation technique?!"
The conversation that followed took a few hours. Y/n had so many questions, so many fucking questions. By the end of it her head hurt and she felt sick. But at the same time, she understood a little bit why chosos was a little off from the start.
It was also super cool going outside and watching all the boys show off. Especially the little bunnies Megumi has shoved up his sleeves, like some sort of magician.
Choso walked y/n back to her camper once she said her goodbyes, stepping in for a minute while y/n got her pajamas ready.
"That was a lot" y/n let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding in.
"you dont think of me any differently do you?" Choso frowned, expecting the worst.
"No you're still Choso" y/n shook her head with a smile, trying to reassure him. He let out a sigh of relief as he sat down on y/ns bed, rubbing his fingers against his temples.
"you okay?" y/n asked softly standing infront of him between his spread thighs.
"yeah just a little embarrassing, I guess. I dunno, I just thought I could keep that part of me a secret"
"Don't embarrassed" y/n whispered slowly making her way into Chosos lap, straddling him. Her shorts riding up even more, exposing more of her deliciously soft thighs, if that was even possible. "It's pretty cool" "Sugar— what are you doing?" Choso craned his neck back to look at y/n, his hands gripping her hips, ignoring the last part of what she said, only because he wanted to forget that part of his life. "Just sitting, you seem frustrated" y/n batted her eyelashes in the most innocent manner. "I mean I guess, just wish I could have told you on my own terms and they all just wanted to talk to you and Gojo had no shame trying to flirt with you" Choso whispers as he looks over y/ns body, not being secretive at all with the way he stares at her chest and her thick thighs.
"So you were jealous?" y/n giggled wiggling her eyebrows at him in a teasing way.
"Maybe... just want you to myself" Choso whispered, making sure not to look y/n in the eye, quite literally looking at anything but her face.
"You can have me all to yourself" y/ns voice low and gentle taking her hand to cup the bottom of chosos chiseled jaw, raising his head to look in his pretty brown eyes. "I can?" Choses voice hoarse with the anticipation of whatever was happening between them in this moment. "All you had to do was ask, Cho" "Can I take you on a date?" A burst of confidence surged through Chosos body, tightening his gripping y/ns hips, making sure her bum was grounded to his crotch. "No"
thud
thud
thud
Choso could hear his blood rushing to his ears, he could barely hear y/n turning into a giggling mess. That was until y/n pepper kisses all over his face and cheeks, avoiding the parts that have been freshly inked.
"You are the meanest person I've ever met" Choso broke the kiss, pushing y/n off his lap, tossing her on the bed, making her bounce on the mattress. "It was just a joke Cho, of course we can go on a date" "Well you just teased me and got me all going and then told me no to the date" Choso groaned throwing his whole body weight on top of y/n, nuzzling his face in y/ns neck. "Don't be such a cry baby. I had to tease you just a little. So we going next weekend after your friends leave? "Course baby"
The drive in was the best option for Choso, it's cheap and intimate. The two talked for most of the movie facing each other, with y/ns legs across the middle console and in Choso's lap. His warm hands rubbed her thighs, pushing his limit to see how far she would let him touch.
"Keep those grubby little paws to yourself, Kamo" y/n swatted at his ring clad fingers as they pushed a little under the hem of her shorts. "Can't resist, your skin is so soft" Choso almost moaned, rubbing his thumbs into the fat of her upper thighs. "You wanna touch something else?" Y/n raised her eyebrows at her best friend who looked stunned. It was her turn to now tease him. Normally.. as showed before, they take turns teasing each other, pushing each other to their absolute limits.
Y/ns fingers danced on her collarbones, reaching for the straps of her tank top tugging them softly down her shoulders. The look on her face was so innocent, teasing Choso's dick driven emotions.
"Y-yeah yeah" he nearly drooled nodding his head rapidly.
"Maybe you can start with just a look, yeah?" Y/n nodded softly, encouraging him that a look was all he needed for right now.
"Sweetheart, anything you wanna give me I'll take with pleasure"
"Real quick, yeah baby?" The way this man was drooling over y/ns words, over her soft lotioned skin, he was putty in her hand. Choso gulped as y/n pulled her top down a little, teasing him with her cleavage. Palms sweaty with excitement, his fingers digging into her thighs, waiting to see the most perfect set of tits he was ever going to see. "You liked Pierced nipples Cho?" Y/n asked with the top of her shirt barely covering her nipples. A verbal response from him wasn't needed, his head nodding with his heart shaped pupils was enough. "I just got them done yesterday actually, on my lunch break, so they are still tender" y/n said in a low voice, almost like she was trying to hide how nervous she was.
What if he didn't like them?
It was like slow motion for Choso, taking in every inch of skin y/n showed him, her pretty nipples pierced with a silver bar, on the end were little hearts that just matched her personality so much. Her skin looked so soft from where Choso was sitting, wanting nothing more than to reach out and massage her breast in the most intimate way. It was only a few moments of y/n exposing herself to him before she pulled her tank top back up.
"So what do you think?"
"They- yeah- so pretty" Chosos face full of flush and almost embarrassment from how flustered he got. Sure the guy had seen many tits in his life, but none so perfect.
"You think?" Y/n smiled at his words.
"Yeah baby, so fuckin pretty" Choso had to adjust the way he was sitting to hide the evident hard on he was rocking.
"Now you have to show me yours" y/n smirked, nudging her foot against the zipper of his jeans. "What?" "I showed you mine, now you're gonna show me yours" "My nipples?" Choso almost choked on his spit. "No your cock Cho, I can feel it. Come on now"
Now Choso has the prettiest cock y/n has ever seen.
But we already knew that.
Thick and just the perfect size, it curved to the left just a little with a silver piercing at the tip. Choso fucking Kamo has a dick piercing. The tip of his angry head dribbling out precum just from y/n looking at it.
"You like it?" Choso dragged his thick fingers along the vein on the underside with a cocky grin. "I do, he's so pretty. God I want my mouth on it" she was actually drooling! A pool of saliva in y/ns mouth took over, as if her body knew she needed it to suck him off. "Yeah?" "Yeah." y/n nodded her head, trying to move in a better position to wrap her lips around him. "I want that so bad.. but I think we shouldn't just yet"
Choso cock blocked himself. Not wanting to ruin what they had, he stopped them from doing anything else that night. Sure y/n was a little disappointed, but she understood why he did it. But damn that night was filled with moans and sticky fingers from both of them. Just it was done separately, in their own rooms.. all alone. Both of them moaning out each other's names into the empty air, wishing they were with each other.
They felt like teenagers for the next following weeks. Late night runs to the liquor store and gas stations, kissing at stop light, and sharing cigarettes. Sharing secrets and past memories with one another, sharing very intimate details of their lives. The beginning of a blossoming relationship.
"You're so fucking perfect" Choso told her after almost every kiss they shared.
And she felt like it too with Choso constantly telling her and praising her every move.
The first time they had sex was so special, it was slow and passionate. Choso still whispering into y/ns ear- "you are fucking perfect baby"
the very next time they had sex was a little different... okay very different. sweet and soft choso was long gone the second y/n asked him to choke her.
"ha-harder" y/n barely got out. there was something so pretty about the way her face got all purple and the way her eyes rolled into the back of her head, how could he say no? Especially with the way she was so pliant when she was knocked out for a few seconds every time.
"Such a fucking good little slut" Choso growled removing both his hands from around y/ns neck.
Life was fucking good.
Sex literally every single day (sometimes multiple times)
Chosos band was finally getting somewhere!
Y/n went to every single one of his shows and watch ow the crowd grew and grew every single time. Everything was finally falling into place for these two young adults.
It wasn't until July the following year that Chosos band got picked up by a record label.
The next year they went on tour, and everyone knew Choso Kamos name.
July of 2025 Choso proposed to y/n.
The next year they became Mr. and Mrs. Kamo on July 15th.
And on July 28th, 2027, y/n gave birth to two healthy baby girls.
July had always been the best moth out of the year, y/n already knew this, and now Choso understood y/ns love for July.
Thank God for July.
I think I'm bad at ending stories. sorry.
Pls tell me if this was good?
Thank you for reading!!!
Taglist: @vellichor01 @loveyislost @koreluvsspring @gradmacoco @ersharyzst @emlient @orikixx @namjooningera
#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#choso kamo#choso x reader#jjk choso#jjk fanfic#choso x y/n#choso x you#choso fluff#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#choso jjk#kamo choso#choso my beloved#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk fic
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nanami kento has always been a patient man. he’s respectful and doesn’t talk to unless spoken to. he doesn’t like most people, might even hate some. but you’re not the type of person he would exactly hate, unlike a certain someone. he thinks you’re kind, polite, you always bow respectfully to your seniors, you diligently complete every task that’s asked of you. there’s also one more thing about you….he just cant put his finger on it. maybe you’re just tolerable, yeah that’s it.
you’re not a sorcerer, at least not a very good one. it’s why you’ve opted to be an auxiliary manager like ijichi and akari. “as long as i get to help the sorcerers in battle, i’m fine with whatever position i’ve been assigned.” you would say with a big and warm smile, innocently, naively. he thinks you’re too good for such a rotten society, something like that will get people killed. and he doesn’t want you on that list.
when he first met you back in high school, he didn’t think much of you. you weren’t a special grade, you didn’t have any awesome technique, you were just simply there. maybe you have connections, he thought. because there’s no way someone like you was admitted into tokyo jujutsu high. to this day, he doesn’t know how you did it. maybe you have some super cool talent that you didn’t like showing, maybe you just won over everyone’s hearts and they felt pity for you, he’ll never be able to find out. that’s one of his many regrets.
his other regrets are letting himself grow attached for no reason. no matter what, his eyes had a mind of his own, searching and scanning any room or environment for your figure. he chalks it up to protectiveness, you weren’t strong like he was and he didn’t want to see another comrade die. because thats all you were, a comrade. a comrade. a comrade. he chants this mantra into his mind every morning.
nanami didn’t know how it happened, but one thing led to another and he was always alone with you. comfortable silence was what he loved the most. you two could sit together for hours in a flower field you came across one day, just watching the sky and clouds form random shapes. you liked when they made hearts and little animals. although he always argued that they’re just clouds.
but, clouds almost reminded him of you. free, soft, floating around from place to place, and residing high in the sky. because he knew, no matter what, you were one of the few people who would go to heaven in this sick world, sick society. you belonged in heaven, you looked like an angel, acted like a goddess.
“let’s go to malaysia together.” you told him randomly one day, seeing an ad pop up about a beautiful vacation spot. kuantan. he didn’t take you too seriously. malaysia? out of all places? he didn’t see the hype.
all these thoughts flood his brain when he sees your body, looking lifeless and bloody, next to ijichi. you two have huge stab wounds in your mid-section. however, you have a bit more than your co-part, clear signs of your fight. even when you know you don’t have the upper hand, you won’t hesitate to fight back.
it’s hard as he carries you two, having to make sure ijichi doesn’t fall off his back while simultaneously holding you close to his chest. his heart twists and turns, stomach churning the entirety of the slow walk he does to bring you two back to ieiri. his mind is running rampant, constantly looking down at you. you can’t be dead, he thinks. neither of you two are dead, he can’t see more comrades die.
it’s almost weird to him how his throat tightens, tears stinging at his eyes. you don’t move, head lolling to the side as barely a sign of a breath is escaping your lips. your skin is pale and bruising. he hates it, hates how you look, hates how hurt you are, hates how he wasn’t there to stop it and protect you.
he sets you down first once he reaches shoko, handing the passed out ijichi to her. finally, he kneels down, taking in your appearance. nanami rarely gets mad, at least not seriously. but this time, he’s absolutely furious. silently seething as he breathing gets heavy. his fists clench by his side, nails drawing blood into the skin.
he gets up, no being able to stand how you look. but, he forgets you’re a fighter, forgets that no matter what, you look out for the sorcerers. out for him.
“kento….” you straggle out, hand weakly clutching onto his. you can barely keep your eyelids open. you mutter out the next few words. “…man….blonde……ponytail……s-sword….”
ah, he thinks. that’s his target.
he gulps, simply nodding. but your hand stays clutched onto his. using all your strength, you open your eyes wider, and he hates the tears that form in them. “….come back to me please…..”
he feels like crying with you. but he can’t, not now at least. he kneels down again, bringing the back of your hand up to his lips to press feather light kisses to each knuckle. his other hand gently uses his thumb to wipe your tears, treating you with utmost care. “kuantan,” he murmurs. “when this is all over, i’ll take you.”
you weakly chuckle, more tears falling at this point. “..p-promise..?”
he hesitates, but you notice. “promise.“ he says back, leaning down to give your forehead a kiss, sealing the promise. he places your hand back to your stomach before getting up to leave, not before sparing you one last glance.
and as you watch him leave, you don’t even know that it’s the last time you’ll ever see him, last time he’ll ever see you. because you trust his word, trusted that he’d come back to you.
nanami leaves with a heavy heart, staring death in the face and yet all he can think about is you. there’s many regrets he has.
he broke your guys’ promise, he hopes you won’t stay mad at him.
he won’t be able to take you to kuantan.
he won’t be able to see you, hold you, talk to you.
and finally, he wasn’t able to confess that he loved the simplicity. that he loved you.
he’ll see you again, in heaven and in another life. until then, he’ll watch over you. because nanami kento has always been a patient man.
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami kento#nanami x reader#angst#jjk angst#no comfort#i cried while writing this#x reader#drabble#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x you
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@keferon
Hi, I don’t go here, but I wandered into your AU and weird twinks being restrained and messed with is relevant to my interests. I’d planned on just shoving this in your inbox on anon and running away but then it got too long for that.
@spector-author this is also your fault.
(Texaid anon, I am attempting to contact you psychically.)
[No actual gore, just a bit of Vortex thinking about it. EDIT: IT'S ALSO PORN sorry I had a forest/trees moment. >.<]
______________________________________________
It’s not the first time his pilot has dozed off in the chair, but only the second that First Aid has done so while wearing the control helmet. The first, he had been half-drugged, in pain, unconscious as much as asleep. Now, he is – well, he’s as safe and sound as any pilot is in one of these fucking deathtraps, which means he’s exhausted and anxious and probably dying slowly. But for now, the cockpit is warm and the LEDs are pulsing low and red like a heartbeat, and Felix is dreaming.
Vortex can’t ‘see’ the dream – even while First Aid is having it, it’s not like real sensory input, all hazy blurs and impressions. But he can read the biometrics, the elevated heart rate, and he can feel Felix’s arousal through the link.
Yeah, it’s a good dream. Vortex sinks deeper into the connection, stoking those feelings like blowing on an ember. Manipulating the neural link to cause feedback for his pilots is a trick he learned early on, but he’s always used it to cause pain or fear (hallucinations, even, but that makes things pop inside their head real fast.)
He’s never touched a pilot’s mind like this before, scalpel-light instead of brutal. Once, when his Aid had still needed coaxing to sit in his embrace, Vortex had promised not to hurt him, and he’d scoffed. How many other pilots did you say that to?
The answer was none. Not a single one. It had never even occurred to him.
The first couple he’d destroyed instantly out of sheer territorial rage at someone else invading his mecha. (The mechanics had ripped out the whole pilot interface and replaced it, but couldn’t find anything wrong, couldn’t find him.)
Then he’d taken to toying with them, waiting a few missions or killing them slowly, because he had nothing better to do to keep himself entertained, but he’d never bothered to talk to them.
And then he’d done it because every time he burnt out another pilot, they’d sent a cranky little disgraced medic to clean out his cockpit. His lack of squeamishness caught Vortex’s attention, so he’d tested it with bigger and more creative messes. Every time the EMT left, he took not only the fresh blood but layers of old, crusted viscera that everyone else had long stopped bothering with. First Aid is messing with him too, all the time, even if he doesn’t realize.
Vortex strokes across Felix’s slumbering brain in a way he thinks of like raking nails, many light but sharp points of contact. His pilot makes a little sound and squirms in his sleep, and he hastily makes sure he’s recording audio as well as video, because he’s going to want to relive this during the long hours when First Aid is away from his hangar.
More carefully than Vortex has ever done anything, he teases out individual strands in the neural network, finding exactly which parts are connected to making his pilot whimper and rock his hips up in search of friction he’s not going to get. First Aid has only got himself to blame – for teaching him how to vivisect things instead of just cutting them up, and how much fun it could be. Precision never used to thrill Vortex, until this little medic crawled inside him.
He thinks he could make Felix cum in his pants just by touching his fucked up little brain. He also knows he could kill him like this, so very easily, which only makes it more exciting. It’s never mattered if he slipped before, and it’s been so long since anything mattered.
First Aid whines softly, absently palming the crotch of his armor, and Vortex needs him awake, now. If he can’t fuck him properly, he can make sure his pilot knows exactly who is doing this to him. Disentangling himself from the other slightly, he considers what parts he does still have.
Vortex was a ghost in the machine, not a poltergeist; he could only move the parts of the mecha that were computer-controlled. Years of familiarity had given him a little leeway – shift just so, and that loose ceiling panel would drop open with a loud -bang- that had been good for a cheap scare the first few times his future pilot had cleaned up after the old ones – but not telekinesis.
(And you know what the fucking kicker was? Three weeks before he died, Vortex had pitched the engineers on installing a small arm inside the mecha’s head, so he could deal with debris in the unusually large cockpit without unhooking from the control system, after a fight where he’d spent the second half ignoring being whacked by a loose cable. Everyone had agreed it was a good idea that could be implemented fairly easily and oh, look, never got around to it. He could have done so much fun shit with one stupid little claw arm in the past four years.)
But since he has to work with what he’s got, Vortex abruptly engages the pilot harness. First Aid is roughly jerked back from his comfortable slouch and pinned tightly to the pilot’s seat. He wriggles sleepily against the restraints, confusion and irritation rising up out of warm oblivion as he wakes. Vortex waits with predatory attention for the moment he realizes his predicament, fully prepared to resort to more extreme measures if he tried to slip back into sleep.
There – the spike of panic, spreading like wildfire, as Felix becomes conscious enough to be aware that he is immobilized, achingly hard, and subject to Vortex’s undivided attention. Deliberately, he digs into that sweet spot in Felix’s mind until he gasps.
“Good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?” he purrs inside First Aid’s head. The medic’s eyes are wide behind his visor, and while the dim red light makes it impossible to see, the interface tells him how deeply he’s blushing.
“W-what the hell are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Vortex punctuates his words with a pointed stroke, reminding him that a minute ago First Aid had been enjoying what he was doing just fine.
He wouldn’t mind at all if Felix struggled. But just like the first time he’d sat in the pilot’s seat, when he’d been smart enough to keep his hands in his lap and away from the controls, he lays back and lets Vortex do whatever he wants. “Good boy.”
Felix shudders at the praise and the contact, turning his face into the headrest like that will let him hide from Vortex. But he’s surrounding the other pilot, entwined with him, doing things he doesn’t have words for and the interface sure as hell wasn’t designed for.
“Touch yourself for me,” he orders, and First Aid fumbles for his armor and uniform with gratifying haste. Vortex watches him eagerly from both inside and out – the way his hands tremble as he undoes his fly, the way he bites his lip on the first actual stroke of his cock.
The sensations are far more vivid now that First Aid is awake, very nearly real in a way that he can’t afford to stop and think about. Vortex had wanted to make Felix tease himself, drag things out and make him beg for release, but now that the end is approaching he’s just as desperate for it, maybe even more.
Vortex cuts himself from the rest of the mecha’s systems, focusing on his pilot until he can imagine it’s him with his hand wrapped around Felix’s cock, or the other way around, or both. In their minds, he squeezes, presses down as hard as he dares – probably harder than he should. There are worse ways to go, anyway. He would know.
“Vortex—” Felix gasps, arching his spine like he’s having a seizure, bucking against the straps hard enough to bruise. His mind goes white and takes Vortex’s with it (for what feels like long enough that it should be worrying but he really really doesn’t care) as he spills all over his own hand and lap.
Felix slumps in the restraints, boneless and panting. Drifting on his afterglow, Vortex lets himself pretend, just for a little while, that the other man is sprawled in his lap and not directly in the pilot’s seat, held in his arms rather than a safety harness. Which just goes to show that not having a body made you crazy, because he’d never gone in for any of that cuddly shit before.
The urge for a cigarette is so strong that First Aid reflexively pats his pocket for a pack that isn’t there.
“You’re always making messes I have to clean up,” he grumbles halfheartedly, wiping his hand on his already soiled flight suit.
Re-extending his awareness back into the mecha, Vortex can admire just what a lovely mess he is from the outside. The thought of First Aid having to do a walk of shame back to his bunk like this was almost enough to reconcile Vortex to having to let him out of the cockpit to get a fresh uniform. Almost.
“I made a mess?” Vortex laughs, and jabs a tender spot inside Felix, the equivalent of touching him while he’s still too sensitive, and doesn’t let up until he yelps.
“Yeah, you,” he retorts anyway, gasping for breath with a pouty little scowl Vortex finds adorable, and flips one of the mecha’s cameras the bird for good measure. “Are you going to let me up or what?”
“Maybe.” Fuck, he’s so cute Vortex wants to trap him in the cockpit until he suffocates. But instead he releases the harness, and absolutely doesn’t feel a pang when First Aid slips the helmet off, or another when he runs a hand through his sweaty hair and the dead pilot wishes he could be the one to do it. He watches Felix all the way out the hangar, ruthlessly ignoring the part of him that said it was a mistake to let him go.
It doesn’t matter, either, that instead of avoiding him like Vortex half dreads expects, First Aid is back in a couple hours, freshly showered and changed, and curls up in his stupid little nest in the back of the cockpit like nothing has changed.
______________________________________________
*slinks back into their crevice*
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❛ #1:52! Sakamoto days.
────────── to have someone you can never fully understand is the worst feeling .ᐟ.ᐟ
⤿ pairings. shishiba x gn reader
⤿ contents. no exact dom/sub roles, slight voice kink, more of a drabble, testing things out here, angst. this contains slightly mature content, read at your own discretion.
⤿ thoughts. i yearn for a man like shishiba teehee 👴 he would so have a lover that he's not yet over, or will ever be over.

Shishiba feels like a challenge. A not so normal guy with a normal relationship with sex. But there's ooonneee tiny problem — he struggles to get hard.
He feels ashamed, though he hates to admit it, but it's normal. He is not the type of man who runs wild at the sight of tight fitted clothes, or a seductive stare.
He is not the type of man who does a one night stand or friends with benefits. Undeniably so, shishiba wants a connection. He desires one.
The very few, and short lived relationships he's had ended up on a neutral stance. He wasn't enough to satisfy them.
They didn't understand how embarrassing it is for him. To show up and present his 'weak game' as he couldn't get it up. His ears would burn as the last girl had nearly teared up, thinking that he didn't find her attractive.
That wasn't the case.
Though, he didn't think it was a problem until he decided to watch porn. Thinking perhaps I haven't explored much. Not even that. In fact, it seemed to turn him away from sex. The videos — it repulsed him.
They had no care. Where was the love? Why was it always just sexual.
Shishiba would sigh and exit off the site, jaw set. He's embarrassed to think this would set him off.
Off to bed he goes. Then the cycle continues. Wakes up, breakfast time, work (another normal day of killing, investigating, fighting, and following orders. Maybe he'll stop for a coffee break with osaragi. She's nice company), return home, oh, another work call, leave, eat a snack. Again work.
Work, work, and more work.
This is the life he has chosen to continue to live. There is no regret. How can he regret now that he's gone so far?
But then, something pops until his head. Not something, someone.
It's you.
Lovely, little [name].
The one with the softest cheeks that he oh, so dearly presses kisses into. The one with a voice that would whisper sweet things to him. The very one that he prides himself in loving, regardless of how things turned out.
He left, you accepted his parting and moved on. Even if you're with another, you are loving and loyal and he can never take that away from you.
But he wishes, for just one last time, you would run your fingers through his blond hair and hold him so gently. Maybe tease him for the light red that stretches from his ears down to his nape.
Maybe help him remove his coat as he gets ready to wind down. Then, you'd press the sweetest kiss to the tip of his ear, relishing in the fact that you've made him blush.
He would fumble with his tie, muttering something about dinner. The date you had earlier that evening did nothing to satisfy you so of course, he isn't going to let his lover sleep on an empty stomach.
You two didn't live together. You didn't even know the location of his home. Heck, not even his full name. Yet, that didn't seem to worry you.
Shishiba was dead set to not let you in too deep. A given name can be as powerful as a mighty god striking down a puppy with thunder.
You didn't understand what your voice does to him.
The time he showed up at your apartment door, all wet and covered in rain. Worry crossing every inch of his typical nonchalant demeanor. His umbrella was broken into bits and... was that blood on the handle?
His shoulders sag with relief. Before he seemed to return to his usual self, but you knew something was different. The change was so subtle, quicker than a split second, not even the trained eye of an assassin would catch it.
You weren't able to ask if he was okay when his lips parted to make one final request; take care of yourself.
He knew when the realization hit you. You looked at him with the saddest eyes.
He's breaking up with you.
You didn't want to accept it at first.
Who would? It's a trashy ending to a relationship that seemed to blossom from nothing.
'I want to make you so happy. To cook with you and help you out on bad days. To be there for you.' Would he be a horrible person if he admitted that his suit pants tighten upon hearing that.
To admit that he got hard when he thought of a lovely life with you. Where you would greet him with a smile after a hard day and all his worries disappeared. Where he'd kiss and caress you as you slept so softly against him.
Where you'd tell him how handsome he is and how he makes you feel so good.
That's the simple thing that got him going.
It was the love.
'You can't just leave without an explanation!' But he did.
And that's one regret that plagues his every waking hours.

#🍊 — 616ioi#dom reader#sakamoto days x reader#dom!reader#sakadays#sub character#sub sakadays#sub sakamoto days#sub!character#gender neutral reader#shishiba#shishiba x reader#shishiba x you#shishiba sakamoto days#shishiba smut#sakamoto days smut
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No, You Don't
Day 3 of Kink-Tober - Bondage
Summary: You knew he was crazy for you, but not that crazy.
(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)
Parings: Peter Parker x Reader
Warnings: (Lmk if I missed any) Stalking, implied murder, blood, revolution, pv (Not very long), intruder, drugging, language, cheating, and finally, bondage kink. (I absolutely hate this, but lmk how you guys feel).
Main tags: @cellyx33 @shybluebirdninja
Word Count: 3295 (Find my Kink-Tober list here)
P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.
He had everything figured out. It was the perfect plan to ask you to Prom. Everything was going to plan, at least on his side. He had already bought some flowers, and he made a poster all by himself (with a little help from Ned), so now all he needed to do was find you, ask you. Tell you his lines, the ones he rehearsed in front of the mirror about a thousand times. He knew exactly where you were right now. As soon as he turned the corner, he knew you would be standing at your locker. But he pauses. His eyes glued on you and…
Flash…?
What were you doing… his hands on your waist, and his lips connected to yours. Peters turns back around, using the wall as his shield.
He thinks about it. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was even true. It made no sense to him, he never expected you to kiss Flash of all people. But he knew he would have to do something about it. Something to ensure you were only his…
“Hey!” You hear his footsteps behind you before he stops in front of you, a huge smile on his face as his body keeps you from walking any further. “Hey, where are you going?”
“Home, Peter. I’ve had a long day.”
“Yea, I heard what happened, I’m sorry.” He steps aside, and starts walking next to you. He’s been rather clingy this week.
“It’s not that big of a deal, why are you apologising?”
“Well I know how bad you wanted to be in the play.”
“Not bad enough to care.”
“Then what’s bothering you?” You.
“I’m just tired, exams really snuck up on us this year.” You throw him a lame excuse, hoping he would just leave you be.
Obviously you didn’t hate him, but you weren’t exactly close to him either. You had no fucking idea who he was until he randomly decided to start popping up behind you in the halls, asking you random questions, or telling you random things about yourself, then the second Flash showed up, he shuts up, and leaves. It was weird, and you didn’t think much of it. You had even told Flash about it, which he wanted to kick Peter's ass, but you easily made him drop the situation, deciding it would be best to ignore it.
“Yea…” His voice goes quiet, and you know Flash is nearby.
“Hey baby…” Flash wraps his arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Hey loser.” He nods towards Peter, who offers him a half-witted smile and nod.
“Sup Flash.” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “I’ll uh… I’ll catch you later Y/N, nice seeing you.” Peter turns, walking in the opposite direction from the exit.
“He’s so weird.”
“Hey don’t mean!” You smack his arm jokingly, his arm moving to go around your shoulders and press another kiss to your head.
“What? I’m not wrong. You know he’s fucking weird. He follows you everywhere you go.”
“I know… I think he’s just lonely.” You shrug, walking out the door as he holds it open for you.
“I’m still taking you home right?”
“Yes Flashy.”
“And date night tomorrow?”
“Of course.”

Well shit… You groan, rolling onto your back, letting the outfit you had planned for tonight fall onto the ground for you to pick up later.
It didn’t bother you much that he cancelled the date the first time. Then there was a second time, then a third, and this was the fourth time. You were starting to get annoyed. It was a different excuse every time. There was first studying for an exam, he didn’t even show up to school the next day for the exam, then there was his dad in the hospital for breaking his arm, the next day you saw pictures on his facebook of him playing golf, last time is was his car broke down, and he didn’t want you driving because your car was in the shop, and now this.
Of course, you didn’t believe him. His mother always got back from work at 7PM, and the date was planned for 8. Also, you knew there was Saturday school today because your bestfriends little brother went there every Saturday. You are honestly debating just ending the relationship.
But he’s so sweet. You think to yourself, turning onto your side and hugging a pillow as you keep yourself from crying over some stupid boy. You’d been with him for three years now, and he wasn’t such a jerk in the beginning.
When you first started dating, he would show up randomly at your house while you were in your pyjamas and minion slippers eating pizza for breakfast, a beautiful set of flowers in his hands, a new one every week to replace the old ones. Now he doesn’t even buy you water. You knew something was up when he stopped throwing his arm over your shoulders in public. He’s only been doing it since Peter has been hanging around you.
Peter.
God he was annoying. Where did he even come from? You were just chilling in the halls looking through your locker like it was a fridge and some random snack would eventually appear, then he was there, with that stupid smile on his face that made him look like the most innocent puppy, the most adorable stupid smile, and all he said was ‘hi.’ before awkwardly walking away, you could swear he was sweating bullets.
You knew he liked you. He couldn’t possibly make it more obvious. With his daily goodmorning texts that you’ve only responded to about 3 times in the past two months, and nightly goodnight texts, and the three times a week good afternoon text when he wakes up late. You haven’t even put his name as a contact in your phone, you know that would only piss off Flash when he does his weekly “Do you have any boys in your contacts?” check every Monday.
Wow.
You lie there, staring at the wall.
How stupid were you? You were in one of the most toxic and un-trustworthy relationships possible and you’re only just now noticing it?
You put your all into Flash, making sure he was okay every second of the day, always the one planning days out. You were even expected to pay for the dinner tonight. Stupid considering he was the rich one in a big house.
You pick up your phone to check his location, he was home, and his little brother was at school. His parents were working.
You sigh. His little brother is at school. A bing comes from your phone, your friends name popping up as a notification: Hey, still going out with Flash tonight?

You toss your phone to the foot of the bed and sit up, not caring when it bounces off the mattress and falls to the floor and under the bed. That piece of shit. He was cheating on you. It was obvious, and you’ve deflected that thought a thousand times, you’ve never wanted to believe it, so hearing it was enough for the waterworks to break, thanking God you were home alone so you could cry as loud as you want, which you do.
Leaning back against your headboard, your hands move to your eyes as tears begin to fall down your cheeks, an occasional sob coming from your throat as you stand up. You were so fucking done. You take some jewellery from your desk, necklaces and bracelets he had bought you when you first started dating, and you throw it into a bag, then you storm over to your wardrobe and you find two hoodies that you had borrowed from you, tossing those next to the little plastic bag, your tears still falling from your eyes and clouding your vision as you curse profanities and complain about what’s happened. Then you freeze.
Your parents weren’t supposed to be home, but the sound of the floor creaking just outside of your room has your heart stopped. You were never a fan of being home alone, making every little sound scare the shit out of you.
But this wasn’t just a little sound. It was the creak of the floor, just a few inches from your door on the right most piece of wood that had made the sound, and that only happens when it’s been walked on. So yea, you were scared, and confused. Someone was outside your door.
“Layla?” You shout out, thinking maybe your sister got home from school early, but there’s no response. “Mom…?” Your voice begins shaking, and you reach back inside of your wardrobe, gripping the neck of a metal bat before approaching your door. “Is that you Hank?” You call another name, your dog's name, then your heart skips as you head quick heavy steps running down the hallway, and back down the stairs. “Alexa, lock the front door!” You shout, not sure why. You want them to leave, but you just lock the door and you dart down the stairs, following the sound of your dogs growling. You turn the corner and there Hank was, his hair standing on his back and his ears pinned to the back of his head. He was a big dog, a German Shepherd with a damned strong bite force. Something your moms ex found out the hard way. But Hank wouldn’t attack without a command, so he stood there, blocking the exit as he stared up and the man dressed in all black, a hoodie over his head. “Who are you?” You shout, gripping the bat harder as you prepare to help your dog fuck this dude up.
“I uh… I don’t want any trouble. I tried knocking but you didn’t answer, and the door was unlocked.” It was true, your mom never locked the door behind her when she left to work.
“So you think it’s okay to just walk in?” Your voice is stern, and you approach him, his eyes landing on your bat “Hank, go lie down, good boy.” You tell your dog, and he hides his teeth before leaving the door, giving the man a little side eye before walking away.
“I don’t want any trouble, I was just worried…” His voice cracks mid sentence, and you swear you recognised the voice. “P-Peter…?” He’s silent as he drops his hands and stares at you. He looks back at where your dog was standing before removing his hoodie. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” You shout as he walks towards you.
“You weren’t answering me texts, and they weren’t going through. I was worried.”
“So you come into my home uninvited?” He doesn’t say anything again, and his eyes drift down to the metal bat in your hand, which you keep a nice grip on.
“I’m sorry…”
“Get out.” You tell him, pointing towards the door he came in through.
“I just wanted to talk.”
“Well I don’t, get out.”
“I have a gift for you.” Of course he did.
“Look, I get you’re trying to be friendly, but I have a boyfriend, Peter.”
“No, you don’t.” His voice lowers, almost sinisterly as he approaches you, a little too close for comfort as you take a single step back. “Can we go to your room? Your dog is…” He turns around, his eyes landing on the dog who’s cautiously watching him. “A little paranoid.”
You think about it for a moment before sighing. What harm could he possibly do? You wonder, then turn towards the stairs as you lead him up to your room, the rightmost piece of wood creaking under your weight, and he closes the door behind him for you.
“What’s in it?”
“It’s a surprise, but do you have a restroom I could use first?” He asks, and you look him up and down, not sure you trusted him enough to even use his restroom, and you notice his gloves.
“Yea, it's over there.” You nod your head towards a closed door in your room, and he goes into it quickly after he places the box with a little pink bow on your desk.
What could he have possibly gotten you? You trail your fingers over the little pink bow on the white box, and curiosity gets the best of you, your index finger and thumb pulling open the bow, and then you open the box. The item inside is covered by black feathers, so you push them aside, and the second your eyes catch what's in the box, you’re horrified. An immediate sick feeling bubbling up through your stomach as you cover your mouth and involuntarily gag. That was a fucking finger. You tell yourself, sickened, but it wasn’t the worst part. The promise ring on the finger was Flashes. It was a little cold band, adorned with a little pink heart, and cute diamonds curling around the band itself. You had the same one on your ring finger.
You had to get the fuck out of there. You tell yourself, but your hand pauses just before you touch the door handle, which was covered in some sort of white shit. Spider webs? You tilt your head in question. Your phone. Where was your phone? You quickly make your way to your bed, tossing the sheets around in search of your phone, then the bathroom door opens. Peter stepped out, his hoodie off in place of a grey shirt you’ve seen him wear often, but it never had the dark stains on the front that it did now, and his presence immediately makes you back away from your bed, and to the other side of the room to create distance.
“I said it was a surprise.” He sighs, tossing his hoodie to the floor before reaching up and removing his shirt, leaving his chest naked. He was fucking built.
“You need to leave, Peter.” Your voice shakes, but it’s confident.
“Come on now, he was cheating on you. He deserved it.” His voice lowers as he stalks towards you, only stopping when your back hits a wall. You hear your phone buzz, and behind him you see the screen light up with a text from under your bed. You had dropped it earlier.
“Peter-”
“Shh…” He shushes you, pushing his lower body against you, still dressed in your pyjamas. “You deserve so much better than him.”
“Peter, leave. Now.” You whisper, your intent was to shout, but you can’t seem to with his proximity. It made you nervous.
“I just wanna touch you…” He tells you, one of his hands reaching to gently touch your waist.
“This is your last warning.” He chuckles, he thinks you’re joking. Fine. You tell yourself. I warned you. Your knee comes up, striking him in his stomach and he groans and curls over in pain as you rush over to your bed, your fingers an inch away before some sort of white string, the same on the handle of your door, shoots out and grabs your phone, looking back, it was now in his hand, the little white web connected to it.
“I tried to do this the easy way.” He squeezes your phone, and it crushes in his hands. “But I’m done waiting.” He growls, moving back towards you as you try to crawl away, but he grabs your ankles and yanks you back before reaching down and pulling you up by your hair. “You don’t want to behave? Fine.” He tosses you onto the bed, moving you and manhandling you with his strength as he moves you to take off your shorts and top, leaving you in your red lace set. “See how pretty you are? Fuck.” He groans a little before bending down, leaning to lick a place between your thighs.
“Peter!” You shout, attempting to back away, but his grip moves to tighten on your waist.
“Just stay still…” His voice shakes with urgency, “I need to have you, I can’t wait any fucking longer…” He groans, pulling you close and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist before pushing his lips to yours, your hands instinctively pushing him away, but his hand just moves up, wrapping around your throat to keep you close, and you continue batting at him, but he seems locked onto you. “Stop fucking fighting me…” His voice shakes more, he’s desperate, you realise as he starts to hump you, your centre still covered by your thin lace panties, you hated to admit it, but it was turning you on. “Take these off…” He demands, but begins to do it himself, leaning back to hook his fingers through the lace of your panties before tugging them down your thighs, your hands swatting at him the entire time. “That's enough…” He growls, lifting you by your thighs as he throws you further back onto the bed, then he grabs your wrists and pins them against the bed frame.
“Fuck- Peter-!” Suddenly, your mouth is covered by more of the webbing as it shoots from a device on his wrist, then your wrists are also covered by the thick webbing, making it impossible to move your arms at all.
“Just stay still… We both need this.” You groan, the sound stifled by the webbing on your face. “You’ll love me when you feel how much better I am than him…” He reaches down and undoes his jeans, the sound of his zipper seeming to cloud your head before he slides the jeans down with his boxers, his cock springing free from it’s confinement, and he gives it a few strokes before inching closer to you, the sound behind the webbing on your face becoming more desperate. “God girl, staying so still…” He presses a kiss to your head as he lines his cock up with your pussy, seemingly admiring it as he strokes his dick. “Such a pretty pussy…” He whispers against your ear, then he slowly begins to slide his cock inside of you, not wasting any time in pumping in and out of you as he fills you perfectly. “Feels so good…” He groans, but it turns into a moan as you feel him already leaking inside of you. That was fast. You look him in the eyes as he pulls out faster than he’d gotten inside of you, his eyes meeting yours. “Fuck I’m sorry… You just feel so fucking good…” He groans, leaning down to press kisses to your throat and down your collar bone, and you’re frozen in fear, and in second hand embarrassment.
He reaches up, and tears the string off of your mouth, a whine coming from your lips as it painfully pulls on your skin, and you part your lips, short breaths leaving your throat as you sit with him between your legs, not sure what to do.
“I’m sorry baby I-”
“Get the fuck off of me…”
“Don’t talk to me like that…” He warns, pulling his pants back up with his boxers before reaching into his back pocket.
“I said get the fuck off of me Peter-” Your voice catches in your breath as he holds two little capsules in his hands, tearing one of the plastic things open with his teeth before attaching the needle to the bottle in his other hand.
Oh shit, oh shit.
“Won’t be such a smart mouth after this, will you?” He takes the lid off the needle with his teeth, then sticks it into the side of your neck, making you yelp, and of everything that’s happened today, that had to be the worst part.
You fucking hated needles.
#marvel#marvel smut#fanfic#peter parker#yandere#spider man#x reader#marvel fanfiction#smut#spidey#peter x reader#peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#peter parker x you#tasm peter parker#peter parker fanfiction#kinktober#2024#kinktober 2024
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really can’t stand people who refuse to even try with neopronouns or understand therians because to my autistic brain it is so fucking simple and I feel like it’s actually everyone else that are over complicating shit.
We came up with a couple terms to describe a couple ideas of self. He, she, they. I don’t use neos, but I do use he and they. I use he because I am masculine aligned and I use they because I am also nonbinary and not entirely masc. I don’t have any feelings towards myself that do not feel human.
But some of our gendered pronouns aren’t even enough, and on the realest note, my gender is probably somewhere between boy slut and freak, but I usually just keep that to myself. If someone feels like these words aren’t specific enough to them, fuck yeah make another one. Are you kidding me? You explored your own identity enough to have come up with a special custom term that perfectly describes you? That’s so fucking cool dude.
If a neurodivergent person with CPTSD feels extremely inhuman because of their psychology/ trauma or real world experiences with discrimination, (wow you mean the person everyone treats differently doesn’t feel very human?! that’s crazy!) but they do however have a very easy time relating and communicating with cats through their nonverbal social cues, if they feel comfortable and expressive wearing a tail and ears, and think of themselves as “cat”, okay??? cool? Cat is a homie, tf. Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with cat, cat seems to know how to have fun.
If a neurodivergent person with DID has multiple altars that are littles, and because of some experience, they experience their little as an animal, a puppy, or baby bird, …. okay??? cool??? I’m not really in any kind of position to tell chick that chick can’t fucking exist, and honestly it’s really none of my business how a system manages their littles. “oh they’re probably mentally ill” okay??? And perhaps they are? They’re still living are they not? They still exist, yes? So am I going to go out of my way to make their existence more difficult? I don’t really see the point!!!
If a neurodivergent person with antisocial personality disorder has never felt connected to humanity whatsoever and simply does not want to be referred to by human terms, it’s really not my place to debate about it.
It doesn’t even have to be that serious. You’ve always identified strongly with fairies? Be a fucking fairy dude. No one can stop you. You feel like you’re an elf? Okay! No one can control you, you are whatever the fuck you are regardless of how anyone feels. You can reinvent yourself tomorrow. Why tf not.
Is it really that hard to dynamically adapt language? Like, when people tell me they don’t know how they could possibly use xi xim or xe xer (pronounced with a Z) in a sentence, it tells me that they literally have a lower capacity for learning language. Like they’re not smart enough to apply pronoun grammatical rules to new words, they can’t even fathom the concept of a new word because they somehow believe that words aren’t made up by people but just pop magically into existence. You don’t have to get neopronouns but if you’re telling me you seriously cannot figure it out, I’m genuinely going to think you’re slightly dumb (unless you’re dyslexic, you get a pass I know it’s rough out here for y’all lmao)
It’s not that I think every case of neopronouns is easily explainable and super simple, because it doesn’t even have to be.
It’s more so that, with 7 billion fucking humans on this planet, it’s really not a surprise to me that some of them express their identity through non human terms. As someone with autism I can understand that, even if I don’t feel the exact same. There is always going to be some weird person who goes by knife/knives or bun/bunny. Im kind of just happy they’ve found something they can feel comfortable within. I genuinely cannot bring myself to care enough to argue with someone about it.
The whole “so I can identify as an attack helicopter?” thing is so stupid because if you were being genuine you could identify as a damn fighter jet. But y’all ain’t ready for that conversation because everyone who is passionate is too cringe for y’all to handle.
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I don't know if I'm supposed to ask this or just commenting on the post is ok- but I was thinking of using two sentences from the 100x100 celebration-
System! Reader Au where jinwoo says "you are my favorite notification" but reader says "I loved you and that was my mistake"
It can also go like him realizing that reader loved him but pulled away which connects with the sentence "what hurts more... Is that you didn't fight for me"
IDK YOU CAN CHOOSE ANY, I JUST LOVE TO READ YOUR STORIES! ALSO CONGRATS AGAIN
[A/N]: Both are fine! Thank you so much for reading my stories, I am super glad that you liked it! This time I chose to do it from Jinwoo's pov, to switch things up, get the tissues baby because i'm bringing rain. - Rook
I AM ON A ROLL TODAY LET'S GO
He never really noticed it—how quiet things became.
How there weren't gentle nudges to complete side quests anymore. No soft glimmers in the corner of his vision offering encouragement or witty little remarks hidden between lines of code. Just the clean, sterile interface of the System. Cold. Calculative. Perfect.
The way it used to be. The way it was supposed to be.
And yet, Jinwoo found himself searching for something that was no longer there. Or rather, someone.
He didn't know when it started—when the System stopped feeling like just a tool and started feeling... warm. Like someone was watching over him, not because they were required to, but because they wanted to. Messages slipped in between status updates, quiet words of care buried in mission logs. Sometimes funny. Sometimes kind. Sometimes soft.
But always there.
He used to think it was a glitch. Some strange hiccup in the code. Until he realized the messages changed when he changed. They adapted. Grew gentler when he was hurting, sharper when he needed to focus, and even playful when the air was too heavy. And then, one day—he said it out loud, without even thinking.
“You are my favorite notification.”
The screen had flickered, and he could’ve sworn he saw a blink of static. Like surprise.
But then you went quiet again.
For days. Then weeks. The warmth disappeared.
The quests came, but the comfort didn’t.
No encouragement.
Just instructions, plain and simple.
And he hated it.
He didn’t understand why the absence hit him like this—why he found himself standing in the aftermath of another gate, body sore and breath uneven, staring up at a sky that didn’t answer.
"Why are you not saying something?" he whispered to no one.
It wasn’t until Cha Hae-In called him out—softly, gently—that he realized.
“You’re searching for someone,” she said, “Who are you looking for?”
He didn’t deny it. How could he?
Because the truth burned low in his chest, bitter and unresolved.
He’d taken it all for granted. Every small moment, every quiet message. Every time the System held him through encouragement, even though it couldn’t touch or speak like a person. But it was real. They were real. And now, they were gone.
Until one day, when a system error popped up unexpectedly—an old fragment of code blinking in and out of existence, like something desperately trying to remain.
He opened the file without thinking. It wasn’t even meant for him, not directly. It was just old data—remnants of old quest logs... And your name—the one he gave you that night long ago.
And there, buried at the end of a forgotten mission summary, was a line:
"I loved you, and that was my mistake."
Jinwoo’s heart stopped, silent tears slid down as he finally understood.
It wasn’t code.
It was a confession.
And he had seen it too late.
#solo leveling scenarios#solo leveling x reader#sung jinwoo x reader#solo leveling jinwoo#sung jinwoo x you#solo leveling angst#solo leveling
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Elbows Deep in Love
Dr. Robby had seen countless emergencies in his time, but nothing quite prepared him for what he saw when he walked into the trauma bay that night.
The ER was buzzing with the usual chaos—monitors beeping, nurses rushing about, and the soft murmur of anxious family members. But as Dr. Robby pushed through the doors, something stopped him in his tracks. There, amidst the whirlwind of medical staff, was her.
The intern—he didn’t even know her name yet—was deep into a procedure, blood spattered across her scrubs, her focus razor-sharp as she worked on a trauma victim who had come in with severe injuries. She was elbow-deep, literally, in saving this person’s life, her hands steady and sure as she applied pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. She was calm, controlled, in a zone that seemed almost ethereal.
Dr. Robby blinked, his heart skipping a beat as he watched her. She wasn’t panicking, wasn’t flustered; her whole demeanor was one of quiet confidence, a soft but undeniable strength. It was hypnotizing. She worked with a sense of urgency but without any outward sign of stress. Every movement was fluid, practiced.
"Pressure’s still not enough," someone called out, and without looking up, she barked an order. “Get me the clamps! Now!"
Robby had been through countless surgeries and procedures in his years, but there was something about the way she commanded the room, how her hands moved with precision, that felt… magical. She wasn’t just saving a life—she was performing a symphony with a scalpel and sheer willpower. The sound of her voice, the calmness, the way she didn’t even flinch as blood splashed across her face—it all made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
A few minutes later, the bleeding was under control. The trauma victim was stabilized, and the room slowly began to settle. Everyone who’d been working alongside her seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Dr. Robby, still standing at the doorway, felt like he’d just witnessed something extraordinary.
She turned, wiping her hands on a towel, and her gaze flicked up—right at him. And for a split second, everything seemed to stop. Her eyes locked onto his, and he could have sworn there was a spark, something between them. A connection, no matter how fleeting.
"Dr. Robby," she said, her voice warm and calm, “we’re going to need some blood. Can you pull it from the bank?”
It was simple, a professional request. But to Robby? It was like hearing his favorite song played live in front of him. *She knows my name*—and even better, she wasn’t running the other way at the sight of him standing there like a deer caught in headlights.
“I—yeah, yeah, of course,” he stammered, immediately feeling a flush creep up his neck. He nodded and hurried to fulfill the request, but all he could think about was her. *Her.* The way she held the room, the way she saved lives with such quiet determination.
From that moment on, Robby was... well, obsessed wasn’t quite the word. But he found himself wandering the halls more often than usual, popping into the ER just to see if she was around. He’d ask about cases she was working on, pretend to need a consult just to linger a little longer near her. Every time he saw her, his heart would race a little faster.
And every time she spoke to him, even if it was just a quick comment about a patient or the weather, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d just won some kind of prize. Her laugh was soft, warm, and it made his knees weak every time he heard it.
He began to take notes—mental notes—on everything he could about her. How she always tucked her hair behind her ear when she was focused, how she never seemed to need coffee even though she was always the first to arrive in the morning, how she always asked if others were okay before heading home herself.
It wasn’t long before Robby started to realize something: he was falling. And hard.
One evening, after another long shift, he found himself standing beside her in the quiet ER, both of them staring at a patient file, the low hum of the hospital around them. Robby cleared his throat, his hands sweating slightly as he fumbled for the right words.
“You… you’re amazing,” he blurted out. His cheeks immediately turned red, and he mentally kicked himself. Smooth, Robby. Really smooth.
She turned to him, eyes softening as she gave him a small smile. “Thanks. It’s just what we do.”
For Robby, that moment—the moment he truly understood the depth of his feelings for her—marked the beginning of something he couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the way she saved lives with such grace. Maybe it was the way she made the impossible seem easy. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way she made him feel like the world was a little bit brighter every time she walked into a room.
From then on, Robby was hopelessly smitten. And though he couldn’t yet find the courage to admit how he felt, he knew one thing for sure: she was the reason he came to work every day.
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